Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Destiny could be a wondrous thing.

My parents were the biggest example of this fact. Maman, a Turkish woman from an Anatolian city, and Papa, a Parisian gentleman.

They first met in Canada as exchange students. Pining for each other but never making a move, they spent one semester being friends before returning to their respective countries, thinking they would never cross paths again. To their surprise, years later, they quite literally bumped into each other in Switzerland.

Papa was a romantic man and always relayed that moment in a way that made Maman blush and roll her eyes.

“The flames had dimmed to embers, only to rekindle again the moment I saw her in the breakfast aisle, holding a jar of Nutella.”

“Must have been a sight with my Crocs and pajamas.”

Papa laughed at Maman's words and pressed a kiss on her temple.

“I saw you during the finals, mon cœur. Nothing could have driven me away after that.”

Maman shrugged, smiling.

“True enough.”

Years after that encounter they were married with two children and still disgustingly in love.

It was a nice story but did not really appeal to me. I had studied and worked all my life, only to do it more as an adult in the IT department of some company. Life was boring and repetitive. Finding a spouse and settling down sounded even more monotonous.

I wanted something exciting, something different – to learn and discover with fervor.

But dreams do not come true.

That’s what I was thinking as I fell asleep in my bed in Istanbul, warm and safe—

Wake up.

It's cold.

Wake up.

I can’t. It's cold and I can’t open my eyes.

Why are my legs numb?

Wake up, or you will die.

I want to sleep.

The voice seemed to sigh and suddenly—

Warmth.

My eyes flew open and I started gasping. Sitting up, I hugged my shivering torso and rubbed my arms for friction. Only then did I take a look around to see that—

I was shrouded in darkness.

Chapter Text

I’d always been an anxious person, and I was not ashamed to say that it didn't take me long to start shouting for help. I didn't really think it through, since pondering the idea of being kidnapped didn't exactly sate my terror.

My ally, the dim light flickering through the frame of the locked door, aided me in scouting the room. There were no windows, latches, switches, or furniture. Just a weird stone pool that was too shallow and an old wooden door—

and coldness.

It was freezing.

I also tried to rack my brain to remember what had happened to me. I had come back from work, eaten, watched a movie, and gone to sleep.

Nothing else.

Was I grabbed from my own bed? Inside a secure apartment complex with a doorman? The sole reason I was paying that ridiculous rent?

Alone with my swirling thoughts and desolation, I almost missed the sound of footsteps coming from outside. A strong female voice echoed.

“... you sure…”

A male responded, “yes... it was… check…”

To shout, or not to shout, that was the question. If they were the people who'd kidnapped me, alerting them to the fact I’d regained consciousness didn't seem smart. But they could also be my only chance of escaping before dying of hypothermia.

Making my mind up, I stumbled to the door before they could walk away.

“H-Help me! I’m locked in here!”

There was a pause in the chatter. Footsteps neared me as I waited in trepidation. The male responded first, his voice was extremely elegant.

“Who might you be?”

Almost sobbing in elation - they weren’t my captors - I slumped against the door.

“E-Elena Noyer. I’m just an IT employee. Please, get me out of here.”

Hushed and indiscernible whispers came to my ears, making me grow even more anxious. The woman called in.

“Is the Augur of Dunlain there?” The fucking what now?

“The… what?”

The woman sighed.

“A great ball of light floating above the pool.”

I made a show of sarcastically looking around, partly to entertain myself. The weirdness of the question hadn't registered yet.

“No, there is only me and subpar weather conditions.”

The man snorted.

I continued, “Please, I don’t know where I am. I just woke up in here. Let me out. Please.”

I was not above begging - nope.

They whispered again for a few minutes and I started losing feeling in my hands and sock-covered toes. Finally, the man cleared his throat.

“Distance yourself from the door. We shall open it.”

The female voice cut in piercingly with a threat, “No sudden moves, put your hands where we can see them.”

Doing as told, I stepped backward till my butt hit the edge of the pool and held my hands above my head. A weird woosh sound came and the door clicked softly. Blinking against the sudden influx of light, I saw two silhouettes standing by the door. When my eyes adjusted to the brightness, I almost brained myself falling to the floor.

The woman was a little taller than me and normal looking if not bizarrely dressed.

The man was not a man.

He was the demonic version of the Genie from Aladdin.

—

Suffice it to say, a calm discussion did not help my panic nor diminish the rising skepticism of both parties.

“I am a Dunmer, child.”

“I am so sorry… I–I don’t know what a Dunmer is…?”

“Dark Elves, they originate from Morrowind.”

My eyes bugged out of my skull.

“Elves? Morrowind?”

It took them a few minutes to calm me down.

—

“You are in the College of Winterhold.”

“A college? Are we in a university?”

The woman, whose name was Mirabelle as I'd learned a few minutes ago, seemed exhausted.

“In a way. It’s an Arcane school focusing on magical education.”

An incredulous laugh escaped me, the sound echoing in the chamber.

“As in ‘so marvelous it is almost magical’ type of magical?” I asked.

They shared a look - Mirabelle drained and Savos puzzled.

“...No, we teach magic,” she responded.

"Right. Magic. Magic that definitely exists. That magic."

A moment of silence followed after my words.

Then a horrible dawning realization slowly spread across all our faces.

—

Realizing my shivers were decreasing, which meant my body was getting dangerously cold, I nervously told them so between chattering teeth. They seemed mollified by my pitiful state and agreed to take me somewhere warmer. Mirabelle wound a warm arm around my shoulders.

I almost brained myself a second time upon seeing the walking skeletons. Savos Palpatine'd them by throwing lightning from his hands. Mirabelle had to stumble under all my weight whenever I got light-headed by the show.

“I must be dreaming,” I managed out as my body warmed by the trek.

“You are not,” answered Mirabelle, almost apologetic.

We exited the god-forsaken medieval basement – or The Midden as Savos called it.

—

It was dark out. I only managed the see the towering stone pillars and a weird blue beam with a statue behind it before Mirabelle and Savos ushered me inside a big door.

Climbing a bunch of stairs in a haze, I did not even notice my own panting until reaching the top floor. Another grandiose set of doors opened to reveal a circular room.

It was otherworldly. Instantly zeroing in on the glowing garden in the middle, I almost missed the scattering of weird objects around. Mirabelle pulled a chair from a corner and made me sit. Savos handed me a tankard of sweet-smelling and lukewarm but dubiously blue beverage.

“Drink, it will warm you.”

It did. I couldn’t tell what it was. Mirabelle waited a few minutes as I stared around in wonder. The situation made me feel like a child rediscovering the world.

“Start from the beginning and leave nothing out.”

And so I did.

Chapter Text

The verdict was clear. I was not on Earth anymore.

Master Savos Aren the Arch-Mage, as I'd learned during the ludicrous chat, decided I could stay in the College.

“There must be a reason you’ve arrived here in particular. Furthermore, you seem intelligent enough to be a student.”

I blinked up at the demonic elf.

“Sir, I… I don’t have magic.”

He waved my words away. “One does not have magic, it is learned and cultivated through willpower.”

Master Mirabelle, who had somewhat softened during my explanations, now gazed at me in clear sympathy and nodded along with him.

“You didn’t have any adverse reaction to the resist frost potion, meaning you can stomach magical substances. We can easily see if you have a Magicka pool with simple draining spells.”

I stared at the empty metal tankard in my hands. I hoped it was not lead.

Agreeing to the ‘draining spell’, I closed my eyes as Mirabelle held a glowy hand toward me.

We learned that I had, in fact, a ‘Magicka pool’.

—

I stayed inside Master Savos’s chambers for a week.

During that time I learned the basics of Nirn. The Races, Aedra and Daedra, Mundus, Oblivion, Aetherius, countries and politics, Arcane Schools… There was a lot.

I was immensely grateful for Master Savos’s and Master Mirabelle’s help – even if Savos was clearly helping me out of curiosity he had for my circumstances. Our lessons were much rather conversations in an equal exchange of information and debate. He was amazed at the prospect of Technology, something I was more than happy to explain in detail thanks to my Computer Engineering degree.

On the other hand, Master Mirabelle had tunnel vision about preparing me for Skyrim. She showed interest in Earth but was mostly keen on finishing my training. It was also she who taught me to use a chamber-pot and lectured me on my first-ever conjuration spell of vanishing its contents.

Learning spells was not easy. It was like trying to flex an invisible mental muscle – a muscle I most definitely did not have back on Earth. I had to focus both on its ligaments and the concept of the spell itself as I tried to cast anything. It was exhausting and required way too much concentration. I refused to believe people did this during battle. I couldn’t even speak or walk when casting.

However, I was apparently a quick study despite learning magic for the first time. Mirabelle theorized it was thanks to my extensive studying during middle school, high school and university. The effort allegedly shaped my mental fortitude in a positive way. Turkey was unforgiving about entrance exams, a fact I never imagined I would be grateful for.

Casting spells was also exhilarating and a feeling akin to getting an IV drip. The Magicka flowed through my veins in a chilly sensation. However, because of that particular detail, I still wasn’t sure if I was in a coma-induced haze and feeling the literal IV. That was a notion to poke at another time.

After learning the magical plumbing spell on my third day of arrival, I asked Mirabelle where the vanished object went. To Oblivion seemingly, with no certain destination. I was horrified to learn it could have landed on some poor Dremora’s head. No wonder they despised mortals, I would too if someone chucked poop at my hair.

When it was nighttime and all the other residents went to sleep, either Mirabelle or Savos took me outside to discover the keep. I met Urag gro-Shub, the grumpy Orc. He didn’t give a shit about who I was or what I was doing as long as I took care of the books that were handed to me. I liked him.

The sky was marvelous, especially at night when I could see the literal shapes of the constellations behind the dancing Aurora. The moons, Masser and Secunda, could be perceived to the tiniest details with the naked eye. I couldn’t believe they were the body parts of a deity who tricked other deities into creating the mortal plane. It sounded like a conspiracy theory – or better yet, Greek Mythology. Every part of the Nirn was magical and new.

During all this, the absence of my parents was crippling. I severely missed my family – my parents who were probably freaking over my disappearance and even my brother with whom I never really got along. Life felt exciting for the first time but the guilt of enjoying it when I had friends and family left behind wrecked the benefits. Fortunately, distractions were aplenty.

We also addressed the elephant in the room: me spontaneously teleporting from a magicless human world. Savos had some ideas that were all based on magic. A spell leftover centuries ago coming alive, an energy anomaly, or even some divine intervention. Those went over my dumb-ass Agnostic head. Savos was disturbed by the lack of ‘Mer’ we had on Earth and grew alarmingly uneasy at the prospect of no magic and divines. Mirabelle did not seem any better than him.

I also tried explaining some theories such as The Big Bang and Steady State along with religious beliefs when questions sprouted about the creation of Earth. Savos drew the line at Evolution, not accepting elves shared ancestry with n’chow fish. I learned two things during those discussions. One, Dunmers had a colorful vocabulary and two, they were extremely reverent of their ancestry. I made sure to apologize to Savos and dropped the subject to focus on our dilemma.

Deciding to go and see this ‘Augur of Dunlain’ Mirabelle mentioned before, we visited the Midden on several occasions. And, of course, it wasn’t there EVERY SINGLE TIME. Both Mirabelle and Savos were sure it had been the Augur that spoke to me before I woke up. But having no confirmation from the entity itself, we had no way of being sure.

The first week passed.

“You are ready.” 

I bit my lip and peeked over the book I was reading to see Mirabelle staring at me. Savos was gone and had instructed me to read books on Restoration before leaving. It was surreal that these guys did not need antibiotics and could literally heal a gorged gut on foot. It felt like cheating compared to our modern medicine. As did many other things, to be honest...

“Are you sure? What if I fuck up?”

Mirabelle sat at the end of the bed I was lounging on. Savos did not even use it since he meditated the sleep away, whereas I felt completely drained after holding a lesser ward up for five seconds. The dude was on a whole another level of magic. Mirabelle patted my knee.

“The new novices are not the most… usual bunch. You will fit in. Don’t worry.”

Meeting new people sounded nice. Especially when they weren’t ‘the most usual’. Not to mention I was sick of sneaking around.

“And my studies? Am I not behind the newcomers?”

She shook her head. “Compared to Onmund, one of them, you are not. I needn’t even mention you will easily catch up with them at the pace you learn. As long as you maintain the dedication, there will be no problems.”

I couldn’t help but smile at her reassurance, feeling better already. “Alright then, I will join them tomorrow.”

“Good. Come to the Hall of Countenance after breaking your fast and find me. I will show you to your room in the dorms before the lecture starts.” Eyes sliding to my current reading material, she quirked a brow.

“While I’m here, do you have any questions regarding the subject?” How could I not?

Sitting up excitedly, I started my inquiries about prolonging life and the effects of Restoration on mental illnesses. Mirabelle was engrossed immediately.

—

People woke up early in Skyrim. That’s why I was eating a simple breakfast of cheese and bread with Savos as the sun rose. We went over my cover story. (Breton, family dead, born in High Rock Evermore, recruited by Master Savos, yadda yadda yadda…)

He stressed to be careful with my secrets and gave a few words of encouragement as I fiddled with the hem of my warmth-enchanted novice robes. Mirabelle had given them to me after the impromptu interrogation.

“Faralda usually stands guard at the door, she will demand answers upon seeing you inside the College. Tell her that I’ve brought you here.”

I blinked.

“Faralda? The Destruction Master?”

Nodding, he plucked some snowberries from the fruit basket to throw inside his mouth.

“We used to have others performing the guard duty - apprentices usually - but we’ve been lacking the manpower. Several of our members, both novice and advanced, have either passed away or left the College,” He paused. “...and some were banished on the basis of… well, malpractice of magic.”

“Malpractice? Like… Necromancy?”

He smiled sardonically at my hesitance.

“Precisely. Mages in Skyrim have a horrendous reputation as it is, we needn’t add kindling to the fire.” Knowing Savos, he most likely disagreed with the Nord conception of magic but had to make sacrifices as the Arch-Mage. The village was already blaming the College for the Great Collapse, something Mirabelle fervently argued was a natural disaster.

I frowned. “I’m sorry.”

He gave a sigh, bone-tired. It reminded me of his age.

“Don’t be.” A hint of a smirk appeared on his lips. “Do, however, be hasty. Mirabelle dislikes tardiness.”

Gasping, I stuffed the last bit of bread in my mouth before chugging down the tankard of water.

Before I knew it I was rushing out of the door with a ‘see you!’ flung over my shoulder, the sound of Savos’s chuckles following me down the stairs.

Chapter Text

The novices were chaotic, in the best way possible.

When I entered the lecture hall after Mirabelle dropped me off at the tower door, cackling sounds and a bleat welcomed me.

There were two people standing over a… goat?

“I am so sorry Onmund! Hold on, I will fix this!”the Dunmer was having a meltdown. The other person, a bipedal cat, was yowling with laughter at the ridiculous scene. I was probably standing there with an open mouth.

“Baaaaa!”

The Dunmer flung a spell at the goat, turning it bright red to her visible horror. The Khajiit was leaning on a pillar for support, choking.

“BAAAAAA!” The goat took off, running in circles around the circular pool and almost toppling me over. The Dunmer shouted in dismay.

“Onmund! Calm down!”

I wasn’t sure if ‘Onmund’ even understood what she was saying, since he continued bleating and galloping around. He even had a bell clunking along with his steps.

I cast a half-assed Calm on him.

“Baaaa,” he stopped, wagged his tail, and started chewing the cud. Ew.

“Oh, Azura be praised. Thank you,” the Dunmer approached, face sunk with stress. I grinned.

“No trouble.”

Sighing, she stared at Onmund - whose scarlet coat was clashing atrociously with the decor. He was also bleating at random intervals.

“A great way to start the first day, isn’t it? Let me give you some advice, don’t use untested spells on people – even if they volunteer.”

A snort escaped from me, making her smile slightly. Her sharp and alien face was extremely attractive against all conventions.

“Will he be fine?”

“Onmund? Of course, the spell can’t hold forever. It’s better to let it pass on its own – lest I make it worse…” She cleared her throat, “I am Brelyna Maryon. I haven’t seen you before, have I?”

“No, I just arrived. Name’s Elena.”

A husky voice cut in.

“Do you know any Expert spells?”

I first blinked at the question. Then turned around and blinked at the person asking the question. The Khajiit was talking to me.

Nirn just got ten times better.

“Errr, no. I barely know any Apprentice-level ones,” I said, trying not to stare wide-eyed at the adorable Khajiit in front of me. I failed fabulously.

“Hmm? J’zargo will only have to compete with the elf then, even if her spell failed.”

Brelyna sputtered in indignation whilst I was trying to understand who J’zargo was.

Oh, right. The Khajiit spoke in third person.

“It’s experimental! Have you ever even tried creating a spell? It’s much more difficult than learning from written sources!”

J’zargo’s fluffy tail whipped for a second, hypnotizing me. Had I ever mentioned how much I loved cats?

“J’zargo works with scrolls and has already created several Destruction materials.”

Brelyna scoffed and Onmund bleated in the background like a weird echo.

“Really? Do they work?” asked the Dunmer. J’zargo shifted on his feet, ears flicking. Oh my god, I’m gonna die…

“Well, J’zargo hasn’t had the chance to test them…”

They started bickering. Seemed like the College was going to be very similar to an Earth university. Onmund slowly approached us, inconspicuously nearing J’zargo, who was too busy snarking at Brelyna to notice, and calmly turned his butt towards the cat. And bucked.

J’zargo yowled as the hooves walloped his hamstrings. Suddenly, a limping but snarling Khajiit was sprouting fire from his hands at the sprinting cattle. Brelyna freaked out and tried to protect Onmund while I was still watching the entertaining and outlandish scene.

“Wh-what is going on here?”

A pale haired Dunmer was standing at the gate, gawking at Onmund and the scorch marks splattered across the room. We all paused.

“Baaaa.”

—

The Dunmer was apparently the Illusion Master Drevis Neloren, aka the poor bastard responsible for our first lecture.

Seeing as none of us knew Dispel and there was a conveniently placed literally bright red target to demonstrate on, Drevis started the lecture on that particular Restoration spell.

Finally turning Onmund back, he forbade us from practicing on each other before casting a weak Courage on us to self-dispel. J’zargo had a dangerous glint in his eyes while glowering at Onmund, whom I pulled aside to introduce myself and to give J’zargo some time to calm down.

“Sorry about that, I did not exactly have control over my actions. Brelyna created quite the spell,” chuckling, he fiddled with his satchel. The guy was positively towering over me and so far was the tallest person I’d seen. Despite that, he was also sheepish and gentle in an amicable way.

“I actually find it scary that she didn’t originally intend to turn you into a goat. What was the spell supposed to do?”

He glanced at Brelyna, who was asking Drevis some questions.

“I believe it was an Alteration spell to sharpen the senses.”

I laughed.

“Well, goats do hear and smell better than humans.”

“I suppose…” Shrugging, he continued, “If she can alter the spell in a way that doesn’t strip the target of their self-awareness, it can be useful. Putting that aside, I didn’t quite catch your name,” he extended his hand, “I am Onmund.”

“Pleasure. I’m Elena,” I answered, shaking it. J’zargo called over.

“Now that introductions are over, how about you focus on the spell? Let us see who casts it first, hmm?”

“Is everything a competition to you?” Brelyna huffed as she strode over as well. Drevis was mumbling to himself in a corner, already having lost interest in us.

J’zargo showed his teeth – or smiled, maybe?

“Of course. J’zargo came here to learn and to be the best. Competition is a necessity for that.” His arrogance was somehow charming when mixed with his friendly ambition – and I liked people who were good sports. Brelyna and Onmund seemed to think so as well since everyone shared similar smirks before silently agreeing to the contest.

Onmund cast it successfully first. Then Brelyna, me, and lastly J’zargo.

We didn’t let him live it down until the lecture was over.

—

“Destruction or Conjuration?”

Humming thoughtfully, I took a spoonful from the stew that Onmund had cooked for us for supper. After discovering that he was used to cooking in a pot for all five of his siblings, we declared him the cook of the dorm – much to his bashful pleasure. He clearly missed his siblings.

“Destruction is very –”, I made explosion gestures with my hands, “– showy, but I like Conjuration better. The field is far more vast and branched out.”

Brelyna nodded at me in agreement. “That’s why I prefer Conjuration too. There is still so much we don’t know about it.”

Onmund and J’zargo were inclined to disagree. Making a weird face at his bowl – the Khajiit were reputable by their sweet tooth and how they added moon sugar to everything – J’zargo drummed his claws on the table.

“Destruction has variety in all difficulties. Unless one is advanced enough, Conjuration only offers weak familiars and elemental Daedra.”

Onmund clicked his tongue. “You’re forgetting bound weapons, they can be very useful if you know how to handle them. My apprehension about it is the Necromancy part.”

“That’s it!” Brelyna exclaimed, pointing at Onmund and making us jump, “I don’t understand Nord aversion to Necromancy! Your crypts are protected by draugrs - who, by the way, use a large quantity of frost magic! It makes no sense how Nords nowadays dislike magic so much!” The rest of us stared at the sudden outburst for a few seconds before Onmund held his hands out placatingly.

“I agree that we are a little–” a brief wince there, “– contradictory about magic. However, It’s my personal feelings about Necromancy. Nords dislike Illusion magic as well, but I like it the most out of all other schools.” Onmund smiled sadly before continuing, “I understand your frustration about this, I felt the same whenever people told me to focus on more ‘honorable’ things instead of magic and whatnot…”

Biting my lips, I peered over at Brelyna, who was looking at Onmund like she was seeing him for the first time.

“You came here through Windhelm, yes?” J’zargo asked Brelyna, whose face closed off before nodding stiffly.

“I pray to never go there again. It’s a despicable, horrible place.”

Gulping down my mouthful, I frowned at the sudden hostility.

“What? Why?”

Onmund’s brows climbed to his forehead. “You don’t know?”

Oh shit, was I supposed to? I only shook my head mutely.

“Windhelm has the closest Skyrim docks to Vvardenfell. When the Dunmer escaped from the Red Mountain eruption by fleeing to the Mainland, some came to Windhelm as refugees. Since Windhelm is under the control of Jarl Ulfric, you can guess how non-humans are treated there.

Brelyna picked up from where Onmund left, “The Dunmer there live in slums and are ridiculed at every turn. I almost got arrested for no reason other than being a Dunmer and wearing mage robes.” She scoffed. “They accused me of being a Thalmor spy and ransacked my bags. I thought I would have to fight my way out.”

I gawked.

“Did you?”

A sigh escaped her. “No. A Nord called Brunwulf told them to stop harassing me before escorting me outside the city.”

Ah, so not all hope was lost. Onmund inclined his head.

“Good to hear there are some who see reason.”

“Yes.”

I never liked tense atmospheres, so when the air thickened with angst I cleared my throat to cut through it.

“So, J’zargo. Does it hurt to get kicked by a goat?”

Onmund groaned at J’zargo’s look while Brelyna and I chortled.

—

A month passed.

Sun’s Dusk, which was November on Earth, left its place to Evening Star, December.

Yes, somehow Gregorian Calendar coincided with Tamrielic Calendar. And so did the days of the week. And English. And the Latin Alphabet along with Arabic Numerals… Yet another mystery to puzzle Savos and Mirabelle since I stopped actively thinking about it to preserve my sanity.

And against all odds, as well as the disturbing lack of sunlight, the days were relatively fun.

On Earth, I was used to boring education methods: all theory, and almost no practice. But the lessons at the College were unlike anything I’d had before.

Master Tolfdir had us practicing alteration spells, almost always resulting in hilarious moments whenever something went wrong. Onmund was particularly bad in this school and once stone-fleshed his clothes instead of his body. When he crumbled to the floor under the weight and all his clothes broke into dust, only Tolfdir tried helping him. The rest of us were rolling on the floor, in tears and laughter while Onmund attempted to run back to the dorms buck-naked. Moreover, this was not the only nude mishap in the following weeks.

Master Drevis was an absolute airhead and sometimes acted like he accidentally wandered inside the College, bewilderedly blinking at some of us. During a class, J’zargo and I decided to act like he was invisible, ohh-ing and ahh-ing whenever he spoke. Brelyna and Onmund quickly jumped in to join the farce. When Drevis refused to cast any spells for fear of breaking his invisibility and started to literally tiptoe around, the rest of the staff joined in. The poor guy was “invisible” for 5 days until Urag body-slammed him for trying to sneak out a book.

And Faralda. I think half the College, including myself, had a crush on her. Her classes were always precise and the only ones we couldn’t fool around in. She was scary. Which was good, considering how goofy we could become with spells. Destruction and dim-wit novices don’t mix well. We learned that well when Brelyna burned her robes and caused another nude show.

Master Colette? Master Collette was a lunatic. Whispering in her class? You were slandering her! Accidentally meeting her eyes in the halls? You must have been planning something! Approaching her for a question? Don’t. Just don’t. Silently walk away. Spooking her will only result in more screeching. Despite these harpy habits of her, she was fantastic in Restoration. If only we could learn more from her outside classes.

If Master Sergius had been born on Earth, he would have made an excellent businessman. The guy cared for nothing other than enchantments and selling them. I didn’t really like his classes since soul gems were unsettling for me. The idea of trapping souls inside tiny little stones and then using them to create warming enchantments sounded… well, horrible. It was like creating batteries out of living beings. Nope nope nope.

Master Phinis was… creepy? The guy smelled of mothballs and disappeared for hours every few days. He vehemently complained about how people were bigoted towards Conjurers and then arrived at the lecture the following day looking half-dead on his feet. Not helping the cause there.

Master Mirabelle and Master Savos were perfect as always. They had been nothing but understanding toward me. Although, I did learn something new about Savos.

He was a bona fide prankster…

Imagine waking up in your warm and safe dorm to a booming roar in the ass crack of dawn. You jump from your bed in panic and see that there is a fucking ice troll inside the building. All the novices start shrieking. The absolute tank of a magical monster hulks towards you. You suddenly regain faith and start praying. And the Arch-Mage calmly walks in, paralyzes it, and articulately starts explaining how troll skins are regenerative and magic-resistant. You listen in stupefied silence.

Apparently, our dear Archmage had deemed it necessary to improve our knowledge about beasts and had brought the troll inside the dorm. Brelyna couldn’t sleep for three days. J’zargo’s tail remained puffy for the rest of the day.

Aside from these shenanigans, Aunt Flo didn’t hesitate to pay a visit. Mirabelle grimly taught me how to use fabric wads as a tampon and then clean it. At least fire salts made a good bleach substitute. Not that it made doing laundry by hand any better though…

And then the Thalmor poked its nose inside the College and ruined all our peace by sending the most arrogant person I ever had the pleasure of meeting.

It was Morndas afternoon during Faralda’s lecture.

“Elena!” called out Mirabelle, looking pale and alarmed, as she came barging inside the hall. Even Faralda faltered at the sight.

“Master Mirabelle?” I’d never seen her so frazzled. She took a look at Faralda before grabbing my arm.

“Apologies for interrupting. I need to borrow Elena for a second.” Barely waiting for approval, she tugged me toward the Arch-Mage’s Quarter. My heart lurched in my throat. Did they figure out how I arrived at Skyrim?

“Mirabelle, what’s going on?”

She hushed me.

“Keep quiet for now. We’ll talk upstairs.”

We entered Savos’s room, who was idling in the middle of it while stroking his beard pensively. He looked up.

“Ah, Elena, there you are.”

Nodding my head, I peered up at their faces. Savos didn’t look as alarmed as the Breton.

“Did something happen? Have you found something about—”

“No, no, nothing concerning your case. It’s rather something we felt we must warn you about.”

Blinking at the cryptic wording - Savos liked speaking like that for some reason - I turned to Mirabelle who translated for me.

“The Thalmor sent an agent.”

My brows furrowed. “They can just do that?”

Lips curling in distaste, Mirabelle nodded.

“The inconvenience of being neutral. We claimed to take no sides, therefore became exempt from politics. So,” she sighed, “we cannot refuse the Thalmor entry without aggravating them. They could twist our words around and interpret them as animosity.”

Savos was silent.

“So, where is the Agent right now?” I asked.

“Being distracted by Colette at the bridge.”

I couldn’t help it, a guffaw escaped. “Nice.”

Mirabelle smiled at my delight. “It is. However, there is another point to discuss.”

Her eyes slid to Savos, who acknowledged her with a head nod before clearing his throat.

“You must, under no circumstances, let this Thalmor learn of your origins.”

Well, naturally..?

“I thought that was the case for everyone,” I said slowly. Savos raised a brow.

“I had the impression you’ve grown close to the other novices. You do not wish to tell them the truth?”

“Well, maybe… But not in the near future.”

“I rest my case. Regardless, let us stay on the topic.” Red eyes suddenly sharpened, “The Thalmor are notorious for their obsession with powerful magical artifacts, anomalies, and of course people.” Oh. “Stay out of his sight and show a certain amount of obedience, which means—” he held his pointer finger out in emphasis, “do not talk back to him. Do not say or do anything that will draw his attention.”

I nodded silently, muted by how somber the Arch-Mage looked.

“Good. Now return to your lecture before Faralda comes sniffing.” Smiling at the light jab, I exited the room after offering them gratitudes.

My heart continued to flutter with adrenaline.

Just as I arrived at the ground floor, the wooden doors blasted open with a loud bang.

The Thalmor agent stepped inside, long and slender body moving sinuously with a sneer painting his immaculate face.

His eyes, a molten gold, slid across the hall to rest on my paralyzed form.

I felt like a deer in headlights, body frozen and breath stuck.

Pausing in his steps, he regarded me for long seconds. I couldn’t look away.

And then he slowly tilted his head. The action suddenly reminded me of a predator sizing its prey.

A gasp escaped me. I could see how his nose flared.

My hands were trembling. He opened his mouth—

“YOU CANNOT JUST ENTER AS YOU WISH!”

Ah, sweet Master Colette. The raging Breton burst inside, screeching like an avenging banshee at the Altmer.

Taking advantage of the distraction, I scampered inside the lecture hall. Thankfully all eyes had turned to Colette and gave me ample time to calm myself.

What in the hell was that?

Chapter Text

Ancano is a little bitch.

Thank you for coming to my TED talk.

Jokes aside, after that bizarre first encounter, the Altmer was fortunately too occupied with hounding Savos and Mirabelle to pay me any mind. But the fact that he got on everybody’s nerves did not change – especially after announcing his position as the ‘Advisor’.

At first, I only caught glimpses of him as he skulked out of the dorm in the mornings. Since all rooms were conveniently occupied, Mirabelle had gleefully assigned him the bed inside the storage – which was quite clearly intended to house servants. He made his displeasure known by openly and loudly complaining about it for days until Mirabelle snapped and told him to stay in the village inn if he was so uncomfortable. I guess the prospect of having to stay in a Nord-populated establishment was enough deterrent since he stopped grumbling after that alternative was offered.

But, he became more insufferable as a result.

He started monitoring the lectures, ruining our fun and agitating the Masters with his unsolicited advice. Even Master Tolfdir, also called Lenience™, was miffed by the interruptions.

We, the novices, tried very hard to ignore the jerk. He blatantly ridiculed Onmund about being a Nord, criticized Brelyna for ‘shaming her Telvanni ancestors’ by studying in Skyrim, and threatened J’zargo to ‘not dare steal from him’. And me. Sweet mother of god, me.

If anyone had told me two months ago on Earth that I would be bullied by an arrogant nazi elf on a daily basis, I’d be laughing my ass off.

But, I was - being bullied by a nazi elf on a daily basis, that is.

He started off by passing comments about how easily I exhausted my Magicka, which was true since I regenerated it slowly and had a shallower source compared to the others. So, I just acquiesced with a tight smile and silently hated myself for being attracted to such a prick.

Then he started deriding my other aspects. Off-hand remarks about my short stature, the informal way I talked, how I laughed loudly and lacked knowledge about the most common things…

So what if I didn’t know that mora tapinella was poisonous? It was in a Magicka potion recipe! And I was advised to nibble on ingredients to figure out their effects. I confess that Phinis didn’t tell us to eat a whole piece but that didn’t mean the Thalmor was justified in mortifying me by jeering loudly when he saw me about to munch on it. Especially in front of Nirya, an adept who’d arrived from her excursion to some Dwemer ruin to gather College funds. All members who were above the novice rank were supposed to support the College like that.

And Nirya wasn’t so bad unless you gave her the opportunity to be. Unfortunately, Ancano gave her quite the material by pointing out my misgivings.

She also didn’t like that my benefactor was Master Savos and tried to question me about how we'd met several times. I always evaded her jabs and interrogations by being overly friendly, a behavior she disliked enough to leave me alone after a while. Managing this many people and secrets was honestly getting to me.

After ten days of this torment, the final straw came when Ancano found me sitting on the terrace floor, poring over a book and heaving from Magicka exhaustion. I had been trying to summon a familiar, but so far all my efforts had been futile. It was a rude awakening to the fact that liking a subject didn’t mean you could excel at it.

Sneering, as usual, he glided over. I was already frustrated, and the sight of him made me tense even further.

“You seem exhausted,” the Mer drawled. Gritting my teeth, I nodded, refusing to look up from the book at his face. He was towering over me to the point where I was completely cast in shadows.

Remember what Savos said. Subservient and aloof.

“I am.”

“What were you doing?”

None of your goddamn business.

“Summoning,” I answered, still staring down at the book. His feet shifted in front of me.

“Oh? What, pray tell?”

“... Familiar.”

After three seconds of silence, he gave my words a disbelieving laugh. Startling at the sound - I’d never heard him laugh before - I glanced up reflexively to see his amused grin. I could almost call the expression friendly, had he not uttered the following sentence.

“And you call yourself a mage when such a simple spell has you pale as a ghost?”

Well, that’s fucking it. Ignoring the alarms blaring in my brain, I smiled venomously.

“I don’t need to hear that from someone who has the complexion of a frog.”

He gaped for a few seconds before rage twisted his face, making the said complexion a lovely orange-brown.

“How dare you—”

I glared back, the anger making the blood rush to my head.

“Oh, I dare alright! You try to elevate yourself while putting others down! I’m fucking tired of having to listen to your disgusting insults so that you can stroke your own ego! You want respect? Recognition? Fucking earn it!”

Not regretting my words, not after being made a mockery for days, I furiously scrambled to my feet without looking at his face and stomped inside.

He didn’t move or speak as I left.

—

I didn’t mention what had happened to anyone and seeing no one came asking about it, I assumed Ancano didn’t either. He also stopped antagonizing all the novices for the following days and we gave a collective sigh of relief at the breather. Assuming he took my words to heart, I started to relax. Which was a mistake. Because he struck again. Full force.

Urag spoke to me for the first time unprompted.

“The elf came asking about you a few days ago.” Startled at being addressed – the Arcanaeum was void in exception for us – I looked up from my book. The Orsimer was staring at me from his desk. My brows arched.

“Elf? You mean Brelyna?”

Grunting lowly he stacked a few books together.

“No, the Thalmor.”

Well, that froze my blood. Clearing my suddenly parched throat, I stood up to retrieve some books littered across the tables.

“What did he want?”

Urag was the only person other than Savos and Mirabelle to know that I had hidden out in Arch-Mages’s Quarters during my first week of arrival.

“Information. Things like your family name, how and when you arrived, how much you progressed, and what kind of books you read... He thought me a fool and tried asking covertly by making a conversation out of it,” a short snort there, “He kept turning the topic to you.”

Feeling slightly dizzy from the revelation, I handed him the books and took a seat on the floor. He busied himself with putting them away before crouching in front of me. I looked up. It was very hard to read his expressions.

“What did you tell him?”

“Nothing, of course.” He eyed my relieved look. “You’re a member of the College, girl, and we seniors are responsible for your safety. If you have trouble, don’t hesitate to ask for help. This is the reason the College was built, for mages to support each other.” He patted my shoulder before heaving up, “Now get going. I need to lock the doors.”

—

Ancano went around asking everyone about me.

Even my friends, to whom he used to be just as awful as he was to me. Like they would tell him shit.

He didn’t learn anything of value from anyone else either, a fact he was visibly getting irritated by each passing day. It was extremely satisfying to see him fail at his job.

Mirabelle reminded me to be careful time and time again, saying there was a reason he was a high-ranked agent among the Thalmor. I begrudgingly agreed to that, the asshole was capable of casting master spells in every school – as he'd demonstrated in many lectures he’d intruded upon.

Then he disappeared. Poof.

Befuddled but relieved by his sudden departure, I finaly managed to cast my first Conjure Familiar. I almost cried from happiness over seeing the ethereal wolf trotting around the dorm. Brelyna, Onmund, and J’zargo shared my elation and they decided the occasion deserved a celebration. Somehow managing to convince my alcohol-hating ass - I disliked the taste - they brought in the goods.

And so we got blackout drunk.

In the morning I remembered glimpses Brelyna gifting me a Conjuration book, J’zargo telling a story about his threesome with two lovely Argonian ladies and Onmund getting positively more flustered as the story got progressively more Rated R. Then Enthir, a Bosmer Adept that had come back recently, entered the scene and joined us. At some point someone was playing the lute, I was off-key singing something explicit from Earth, everyone was dancing while cackling at the unhinged lyrics, Faralda screeching upon entering the dorm… and, yeah the rest was a blur.

That experience made it official. The College of Winterhold was just a glorified, magical university.

A few days went like this peacefully, then the High Jerk appeared on the horizon again and started skulking around ominously.

Realizing he was cooking something up, It didn’t take me long to figure out Ancano’s new tactic.

He was hounding me. Like a genuine, fucking dog.

Staring.

Watching.

Dissecting.

The comments I’d declared to not regret a week prior, had come back to bite me in the ass.

I knew he was waiting for the right moment to corner me since he never tried approaching when there were other people around, which encouraged me to avoid being alone.

If the novices realized I was acting weird, they didn’t give any indication. They even allowed me to stick to them like some annoying little animal.

Despite all the precautions, the strategy of avoidance was clearly not feasible.

He would catch me alone one way or another.

He was a stubborn bastard like that.

—

“You,” the sneer echoed in the small alchemy chamber.

I sighed as my second-to-last favorite person on Tamriel started casting her humongous shadow over my extremely sensitive water-breathing potion. I knew that she knew light was extremely important during the distillation process for body-altering potions—

“Nirya,” I managed to grit out between gritted teeth and smiled sweetly at her over my shoulder. “What a pleasure to see you.”

J’zargo remained silent beside me but his swaying tail betrayed his amusement. Traitor.

As I’d mentioned before, the best way to deal with Nirya was to be nice. She always acted like she was allergic to the concept before scurrying off to god knows where. Probably her cavern, where she planned to overthrow Faralda from her hypothetical throne.

“The Arch-Mage is summoning you to his room.”

Both J’zargo and I blinked at that. It was a little unusual for Savos to send anyone but one of the masters to summon people.

“Whatever for?”

She scowled, her dark eyeshadow adding to the effect.

“How am I supposed to know?” Grumbling about ‘humans’ and ‘waste of precious time’, she skulked away. I sighed at my Khajiit companion.

“Nothing brightens my day better than a bitchy Altmer insulting my heritage.”

J’zargo snickered in response.

“J’zargo likes how you deal with unsavory people.”

Grinning at the Khajiit, I poured the ruined potion inside Hamelyn’s pot – a decades-long plant ‘experiment’.

Named after the guy who first poured a failed strength potion inside its pot, the giant nirnroot had grown into something monstrous with its curling and wilted yellow leaves. It was customary to pour any unusable potions down its pot. According to Tolfdir, it had stopped chiming and glowing after someone gave presumably skooma to it. Enthir, probably.

The already wilting plant gave a visible shudder as it absorbed my potion. I straightened up and grabbed my satchel before responding to J’zargo as I walked away.

“Well, you know how it goes. Kill’em with kindness…”

—

The college yard was beautiful in the snow. Walking towards the Hall of the Elements, I grazed my hand through the blue beacon to feel its tingles. It never failed to fill me with warmth and giddiness despite being an extension of a weird-ass magical entity residing below the College. I also saluted good ol’ Gauldur’s Statue. No one was in the yard to see me being silly. I hoped.

Pushing open the grand doors of the hall, I veered to the right to climb up the stairs. The building was eerily devoid of commotion since several senior members were away on business, so I could hear the howl of the wind sneaking through the wooden doors. Suddenly a familiar feeling of restlessness settled over me. Like something was about to happen.

I soldiered on up the stairs, the sole reason I hadn’t gained any weight gorging on cheese and bread the whole time. Considering I frequented the Arcanaeum and Savos’s rooms often, the steps were my constant tormentors. I knew the seniors used Levitate spells to glide up, something the junior staff considered cheating. We had a long way to go before culminating the amount of Magicka it takes to fly up the tower after all. Magicka exhaustion was worse than physical fatigue, I knew that well.

Slightly heaving and cursing under my breath, I took a moment to breathe before knocking on the door.

Silence.

Perturbed, I knocked again, “Master Savos? It’s me, Elena.” No reply.

Maybe Nirya had lied? But that wouldn’t make any sense, save the fact making me climb up the damned tower for nothing. She wasn’t that petty. I paused again to listen in.

“Master Savos? I-... I’m coming in?” Hoping I was not stepping on some ward that would blow my legs off, I slithered through the door crack. My eyes scanned the room. It was empty save for the insects flying about the enchanted garden.

“...Did she really prank me?” I snorted despite myself before turning to leave. I didn’t know she had it in her to resort to this. Before I could muse further about that I was suddenly slammed into the door, my forehead whacking the hardwood with a firm sound. Ouch - and what the hell!? I felt more than heard a husky chuckle from the body smothering me.

“No, she did not.”

Hearing the familiar insipid voice above me, I sucked in a breath as my muscles tensed. Fucking—

“You bastard – let me go!”

Ancano was pressing me down using his whole body, literally looming over the top of my head. He laughed at my attempts to wriggle out.

“I don’t think I will - unless you answer several questions of mine.” I tried calling lightning to zap the asshole, but my pitifully poor connection suddenly snapped like a punch to the gut. He cast Silence on me. Embarrassment and anger were raging inside me - I couldn't believe I had fallen for such a stupid trap. Suddenly, he seized my wrists and flipped me around – only to slam me back into the door again. Whipping up the sharpest glare I could muster, I looked up – and up and up. And. Up.

This fucking giraffe, I swear to God—

My neck cracked with the angle. Ancano was staring down at me with a smug smirk painting his lips. My mouth twisted in a snarl.

“I already have an answer–” his brows rose at my words, “–Fuck. You.”

He twitched weirdly. Before I could think much of the reaction, he tsk-ed and tightened his hold.

“How unbecoming of the College’s finest. You were such a polite little thing at first. Profanity does not suit you, little Breton.” Always with the height.

Ignoring his remark, as well as the flush on my cheeks, I retorted.

“You’re the one using Invisibility to creep inside the Arch-Mage’s room. I don’t really think you have the moral high ground to lecture me about manners.” Not pausing for his reply and still struggling to get out of his clutches, I glanced around disdainfully. “Where is Master Savos?”

He took a moment to compose himself. It was hilarious how agitated he got whenever I talked back.

“With the other ‘scholars’ I imagine. Not about to return from their excursion to that infested crypt.”

I frowned at his derisive tone.

“So what, you sent Nirya to trick me?”

His gloved fingers were flexing and overlapping around my wrists and his hands are huge what the fuck—

“She was more than eager to assist – took my word for the truth. Now, ” I felt a chill behind my back as he cast something over the door, “ we shall remain undisturbed.”

As soon as I sensed his hands getting loose, I shoved him away from me to turn around and open the door—

THE BASTARD ICE-TRAPPED THE FUCKING DOOR.

I gaped at the frankly more than ridiculous amount of arcane prowess as my hands met the chilly surface. The whole frame was covered in a smooth layer of ice. And I was stuck. Inside. With Ancano.

Fuck.

Chapter Text

“Are you amenable to answering my questions now that you’ve composed yourself?”

Ancano was still standing in front of the garden after I finished freaking out over being trapped with a racist megalomaniac. I sputtered in indignation.

“Seriously?” My arms opened wide to emphasize the point, “You did all this to ask me questions!?”

“You’ve been evading my friendlier attempts—”

“I fucking wonder why—”

“Therefore,” he continued serenely, “I had to resort to a more… radical approach.”

I crossed my arms and glared at the floor.

“Yeah, right. ‘Radical’ my ass…” Trying not to look at his attractive form, my eyes danced across the room. “Well, congratulations, you got me. Will you let me go if I answer your stupid questions?” I could feel his intense scrutiny.

“If you wish.”

My face was in a perpetual state of scoffing. “Oh, I wish alright.”

He twitched weirdly like before but said nothing in response. Sighing, I wiggled my fingers in the air.

“Fine, ask away.”

“...Very well.” Suddenly he stepped closer, making me stumble back, “First question. Where are you from?”

“...What?” Hadn’t he already learned that? I’d told whoever asked that I was from High Rock.

“Your homeland. Where is it?”

I cast a dubious and deliberately dense look at him. “You are not trying to recruit me, are you?”.

He scoffed at my tone. “Don’t be obtuse, you wouldn’t survive a week. Answer the question.”

Not forgetting to frown at his derogation, I shrugged calmly.

“High Rock.”

He hummed as he stepped closer, ignoring my warning look.

“Yes, yes, but which city?”

“Uh— Evermore.”

“Hmm, truly? That accent of yours is quite peculiar. Do all Evermore residents have it?”

Yeah, well. Merde. I had this faint Turkish-French-American accent meaning that sometimes I garbled my words and sometimes spoke way too clearly as if I was saying the words one by one. It was weird.

Everyone was kind enough not to comment on that particular quirk of mine. But of course, Ancano was anything but kind.

“No,” I said with clenched teeth, “I’m a particular case.”

“Do elaborate.”

Yeah, Elena. Elaborate. Mirabelle had told me the accent was bizarre enough to arouse suspicion and I'd better be prepared for questions about it.

I was not prepared for any questions whatsoever. Because my dumb-ass had forgotten.

Alas. When in doubt, go for absurd.

“...I was kicked by a horse.”

Ancano blinked.

“You— were… I. What?”

Shrugging, I pressed a knuckle to my temple. “I got kicked by a horse in the head when I was a kid. Changed the way I speak.”

A moment of silence passed between us. He was still staring bewilderedly at me.

“You…”

I shrugged again, swinging my arms. A soft and unexpected chuckle rose from him. It was startling every single time to hear him laugh. Shaking his head with a smirk at the corner of his lips, he gazed at me.

“You are ridiculous.”

I smiled sweetly in response.

“Thank you.”

He stood quietly for a few seconds, still staring at me thoughtfully.

“And your parents?” No more questions about the accent? Well, who am I to argue.

“And my parents…?”

“Where are they and where are they from?”

I didn’t really like lying about them – they were amazing parents and didn’t deserve to be lied about – but my safety was on the line. I answered quickly to not sound fishy.

“Gone. And they were from Evermore as well.”

“Siblings?”

I swallowed, my older brother’s face flashing in my mind.

“None.” Fewer people from my past, fewer to lie about.

“And you’ve come to Skyrim for what purpose?” Would you believe me if I told you I haven’t a fucking clue?

…

Wait.

He wouldn’t.

HE WOULDN’T BELIEVE ME IF I TOLD HIM THE TRUTH BECAUSE HE WOULD THINK I WAS FUCKING AROUND!

Mischief coursing through my veins and brain sparking with a ‘Eureka!’, I wrestled my expression to one of neutrality.

“You really want to know?”

Ancano crossed his arms, impatience dripping from the motion.

“Yes, human, I do.”

Shrugging, I held my hands up in a ‘whaddya know’ gesture.

“Well, Sir Advisor, you see, the whole situation was very spontaneous and unexpected to me as well.”

Face shifting to intrigued, he raised a brow despite my clearly sarcastic storytelling. I continued.

“To be precise, I just closed my eyes, and ‘BAM’—” I was also acting with expressions, to incite maximum irritation. So, I blinked up at him with eyes and hands wide open while declaring in astonishment, “I was here. Sooo, I have no clue about what I'm doing here either.”

For whatever reason, that made him falter. He blinked haltingly.

Recrossing my arms over my chest and mimicking his posture, I raised a brow. Not forgetting to subtly check if the Silence spell was expired, I additionally tried casting Night-Eye as it was unnoticeable from the outside. Nope, as expected from Mr. Major Magicka, he’d cast a potent Silence.

Ancano tilted his head – like when we had crossed eyes the first time. The pale locks were falling tantalizingly over his broad shoulders, contrasting beautifully with the dark Thalmor robes.

…I was really tired of noticing these things about him.

Snapping out of my reverie, I saw him frowning in what seemed like a deep contemplation.

…Had he taken my words seriously? No. OH NO.

Just as I was getting panicked and imagining Mirabelle whooping my ass for – nevermind ignoring – outright bulldozing over her warnings, his eyes rose in a glare.

“Speak the truth.”

Crisis averted. I shrugged, feeling the cold sweat running down my back. I was a true believer in Fuck Around and Find Out and really needed to stop taking risks for shits and giggles. Trying to maintain a calm façade, I smiled.

“It’s the truth.”

He looked even more rattled before squinting his eyes.

“I will not let you leave until you give me a proper answer.” Well, this conversation was giving me a proper headache. Why was he so interested in me anyway? I was just a random mediocre mage wannabe. It was true that I was a little different compared to the others. Just slightly more hygienic and unruly… and crass.

… And maybe a little compulsive... With a pinch of defiance…

Also, VERY unconventional…

…

Yeah. Nevermind.

Not knowing what else to do, I raised my arms in an exasperated manner.

“...To study Magic? It is a college, you know”

Silence took hold of the room as he mulled over my words, still glaring at me and making me shuffle in place as I waited for His Highness’s verdict.

At last, he closed his eyes with a grimace and waved a hand, compelling me to turn around and see the ice surrounding the door evaporating away with a loud sizzle.

“Go, you insolent creature.”

Blinking at the sudden change of heart, I hesitated for a second in confusion. That was it? Those were the so important questions? Seeing me waver, he snarled.

“GO.”

Yikes.

A little peeved at how easily he had let me go, I peeked a quick look behind over my shoulder as I bolted out of the room.

Ancano was intensely looking down at something in his palm, a scowl decorating his face.

The door slammed shut behind me.

—

The High Jerk ceased his attempts.

As relieving as it was, I couldn’t help but feel unsettled by how easily he’d given up during his questioning. He stopped trying to talk to me and only blessed the seniors with his delightful company. Despite this, I caught him staring at me from a distance too many times to be a coincidence. Anytime I turned my head towards him upon feeling his gaze, the Altmer would just walk out of sight. I really wanted to know what was going on inside his head.

Amidst all this chaos the spring approached and soon, First Seed arrived.

Master Savos brought up Apprenticeship during a lecture. It was something like an internship, a process in which the novices were sent away to learn from Master Mages across Skyrim. Not only the novices built connections this way, but they also made some coin by running errands or doing odd jobs. After successfully completing two months and acquiring a letter of approval from their mentor, the novice became an apprentice.

According to Onmund, The apprenticeship period was usually during the Summer –before the arrival of new novices during the Fall. However, the Civil War was heating up and it was going to get worse as the weather got warmer. Since the novices would be traveling on roads, a collective decision was made to move the Apprenticeship period forward before the war made it too dangerous to travel.

As a result, the masters accelerated the lectures, burying us under assignments and creating a schedule so busy that I blissfully became too occupied to think about Ancano. We had several excursions for foraging and crypt-dwelling. Unfortunately, I sustained my first fatal injury during one of those dwellings.

Normally, the masters cleaned out the crypts before we entered. But the fucking undead creepers had this horrible habit of sleeping – during which they appeared to be, well, dead and evaded being noticed.

The Draugr had sneaked up behind me despite its ginormous greatsword. By the time I noticed its wheezing, it was too late. I had only felt an agonizing pain spreading across my back before feeling warmth gushing down. There was ringing in my ears, I was laying on the floor.

I hadn’t even realized I’d collapsed.

Someone screamed my name.

The pain left its place to numbness. I truly thought I was going to die there and then.

When I woke up, I was laying on my side with a pain beyond words pulsing on my back. Brelyna was sobbing, J’zargo was healing my wound and Onmund had gone to get Master Tolfdir. I was in and out but I remembered throwing up from the pain and being levitated before Tolfdir ultimately put me to sleep. I was pretty sure I called for Maman.

When I woke up from my magical coma a week later in my dorm, the wound was completely healed. There wasn’t even any pain. Apparently, Colette had been beside herself healing me day and night while chugging magicka potions like a champ. The novices had taken over whenever she was about to collapse.

Brelyna said my heart had stopped 5 times the first day before they managed to stabilize me.

Well.

I cried. She cried. J’zargo and Onmund watched us awkwardly while surreptitiously sniffing. I thanked Master Colette when she came in to check on me and got a huffy motherly berating in turn. She also explained the extent of my injury.

My spinal cord had been cut clean like butter along with the majority of my back muscles. She said I had been lucky that Brelyna knew the proper procedure to heal spinal injuries. While J’zargo had been healing me, Brelyna had kept me in the proper posture to align my spine. Moreover, it was Onmund who had found me with the Draugr. Just when it was about the finish me off, he had killed it and shouted for help.

I would have been paralyzed or, worse yet, dead if it wasn’t for them.

Alas, I was perfectly fine except for the leftover scar – a silvery puckered monstrosity diagonally encompassing my whole back – and the occasional ghost twinge.

I also got a good tongue-lashing from Mirabelle before she eventually gave me a teary-eyed hug. Savos congratulated my survival. It was very sarcastic so I called him out for being sappy. He threatened me with my Apprenticeship before handing me a strength potion. The rest of the staff visited me, and so did Ancano since he also slept in our dorms.

It was an insult session more than a visit though. He made some off-hand remarks about how I shouldn’t be going to dangerous places when I was weak enough to get injured and how I didn't even know to cast Stoneflesh in crypts before he got chased away by a raging Brelyna. He didn’t approach with a monologue again but still lurked around.

Perils like my ordeal increased in amount as we progressed with our magic. Consequently, the novices became extremely close. After sharing several near-death experiences and depending on each other during combat, a kind of trust and loyalty I’d never experienced before blossomed among us. We’d bled and cried in each other's arms, defended and helped one another. I truly could put my life in their hands.

I didn’t want to hide the truth about myself anymore, so I decided to tell them about my origins after the Apprenticeship, which was just a few weeks away.

The last spells we were obligated to master before leaving were Mark and Recall, which substituted for a safety belt in case things went awry. Mirabelle had made it extremely clear that the spells were crucial for survival.

“Mark, as the name indicates, marks the location of the caster. Recall teleports the caster to that location.” She held a soot-smeared finger up, courtesy of J’zargo’s unhinged fireball spell, “Only one location at a time can be marked. That being the case, one must be prudent in choosing a location for Mark – it should be a safe and well-stocked place with necessities such as health and resist-poison potions.”

Onmund shrugged. “Well, the College sounds perfect for that overall.”

“It is, especially for you novices. During your Apprenticeship, you will find yourselves in dangerous situations and Recall is a great way to escape from such predicaments – HOWEVER,” she paused dramatically here and eyed us contemplatively. ”...A few years ago the Masters proposed two new rules, which passed after a majority voted ‘for’.”

Spontaneously developing a hive mind, we all shared an apprehensive look while thinking the same thing.

Well, shit.

“First rule, if you return from your Apprenticeship before two months end, your Apprenticeship will be denied and you will need to try again next year.”

Yep, there we go.

Exasperated but not surprised, I spoke up.

“But that means if we Recall to the College before two months, we will fail.”

Mirabelle only nodded in agreement. The Dunmer standing beside me clearly found this unsatisfactory. Frowning, she squinted at Mirabelle.

“Then, what is the point of learning those spells for safety?”

“It will teach you to value your lives more than a title.”

Groans echoed in the hall in unison.

“What if I just think ‘Oh well, rather than repeating a year I’d rather fight a bear!’ and get killed because I refused to Recall? Isn’t it weird to think that this rule enforces safety?”

Mirabelle shook her head at my words, smiling.

“Before this rule, more than two-thirds of our novices died every year. We realize that the rule appears to be counterproductive to safety but somehow, fatality rates dropped after its implementation. It seems like the students become more vigilant at the prospect of repeating a year and cease throwing themselves in danger senselessly.” Raising a thin brow, she held up two sooty fingers and wiggled them.

“And, before you think of Marking other safe spots and coming back to the College on foot – the second rule is that you are obligated to return to the College via Recall. If you don’t, your Apprenticeship will be annulled.”

Well, shit. x2

J’zargo hissed in irritation and the rest of us looked up skywards. There goes the loophole.

We had no choice but to acquiesce and be appeased by the goodwill shown to us. The seniors seemed to really care about whether we lived since they wouldn’t put such regulations into effect otherwise.

But, holy shit, were they ridiculous.

—

Savos arrived at the dorm during dinner to announce the Apprenticeship locations – and to have us draw them out from a pouch. J’zargo lunged from his seat to be the first.

Plunging his clawed hand inside the burgundy pouch, he picked a piece of parchment. Unfolding it, he read whatever was written on it before blinking up at Savos.

“Well?” I said, “Where did you get?”

When he didn’t answer my question Brelyna snatched the parchment so that we could take a look at it.

“...Hall of the Vigilant, Keeper Carcette.”

The Vigilants of Stendarr? No wonder J’zargo was shocked! They weren’t mages, they were Daedra hunters! Turning our eyes at Savos in befuddlement, we stood in silence. He cleared his throat before offering the pouch to Onmund, who picked his parchment with the solemnity of a deserter ready to be beheaded.

“...Markarth, Court Wizard Calcelmo."

Oh boy. J’zargo made an aborted motion with his ears folded back, "Is this a joke!?”

Rolling his eyes, Savos shook the pouch towards Brelyna. "Quit your whining J’zargo. Knowing Calcelmo, you are much more fortunate than Onmund.”

The said Nord paled.

“W-what? Why?”

“Never you mind.” He jiggled the pouch again. “Go on, Brelyna.”

We all held our breaths as she unfolded her paper.

“Kynesgrove, Dravynea.” She slowly stared down at her feet, face expressionless – to which J’zargo squinted, sharing my puzzlement.

“Where even is that?”

“South of Windhelm. What is a mage doing there?” asked Onmund, turning to Savos – who was staring at Brelyna with a grim look.

“It’s a mining settlement. Dravynea is an expert in Alteration and single-handedly maintains the integrity of the mines. She agreed to train a novice.”

We all were aware of how much Brelyna disliked Windhelm, and to spend two whole months so close to it… I grimaced in sympathy just as Onmund cleared his throat tentatively.

“Can we… switch our locations?”

The Arch-Mage raised a brow at the question. “If both parties agree, certainly.”

Smiling, Onmund turned to Brelyna who was gazing at him affectionately.

“So, how about Markarth?” Switching a Dwemer city with some village in the cold ass of nowhere? We truly didn’t deserve Onmund. I was pretty sure Breylna was thinking the same thing. Chuckling somewhat wetly, Brelyna shook her head.

“Thank you Onmund – but it’s alright. I will go to Kynesgrove,” she clasped her fingers in front of her, “I believe this will help me grow a thicker skin.”

“Well… if you change your mind don’t hesitate to tell me.”

The beautiful Dunmer nodded with a soft smile. Savos looked bemused.

“Now that is over with… Elena?”

The pouch was shoved into my face.

“Oh yeah! Sorry.” Quickly grabbing the last paper, I fumbled while unfolding it. “Uhh… Whiterun. Court Wizard Farengar… Secret-Fire?”

A neutral city! Onmund sighed with what seemed like relief whereas Brelyna grinned in delight. I blinked up at them in confusion. Why the heck were they so happy? I had gotten the best place, shouldn’t they be mad?

“Good,” said J’zargo, “even you can’t die there.”

What the fuck? An indignant sputter exited my throat. Brelyna was nodding alongside the Khajiit.

“The city walls should be secure. We won’t have to worry about your safety.”

Even Onmund seemed to agree with them. “I have relatives working the out-skirting farms. I will send them a word about your arrival.”

My arms flapped in a futile attempt to stop their commentary.

“Guys! C’mon, I can handle myself!”

They shared a look of doubt, which made me groan in embarrassment. Even Savos was smirking.

“It warms my heart to see you getting along so well. Good.”

Well. Yeah. We did get along. I cherished them. Chuckling, Brelyna wound an arm around my shoulder.

“Whatever,” I muttered, glancing to the side and feeling charmed despite myself, before looking up at Savos sharply, “but, what is this about Kynesgrove and the Vigilants?”

The others also stared at him in askance. Sighing, Savos crossed his arms.

“Because of the war, many are apprehensive about letting members of the College train under them. The news about our resident advisor’s presence has spread and Stormcloak sympathizers don’t want us anywhere near them.” He had a legendary frown on his face. “Imperials have their own mages to train. The neutral parties don't want to step on any toes.” Gesturing the papers in our hands, he continued, “In the past, we had no end to Apprenticeship offers, but now? We had to call in favors to find you masters.” That was humbling news. “Therefore…” he paused with pursed lips, eyes solemn.

“Do make the most of this opportunity.”

—

After Savos left, my dormmates explained why they were worried about me.

During the foraging excursions, I hadn’t quite hidden my lack of even the most basic skills of survival –such as hunting and cooking on a campfire. I didn’t know which waters had slaughterfish or which stones were mudcrabs. I also became queasy at the thought of skinning a rabbit.

Not to mention my pacifism. Brelyna had always been exasperated at my refusal to hurt people, saying bandits didn’t care if people were nice or bad. She didn’t hold back her punches while going over the dangers of traveling while Onmund and J’zargo added a few more points.

As a result, I became positively terrified of traveling. I mean, not traveling. Traveling in Skyrim.

On foot.

For days.

Haha…

According to Onmund, who was accustomed to the roads of this godforsaken frozen land, it would take five days for me to make it to Whiterun and Brelyna would be accompanying me for the two of it before we ultimately separated on the road near Windhelm.

Five days of constant danger.

After hearing about the bandits, thieves, wolves, bears, sabre cats, and many other things I didn’t want to think of ever again, I took a very deep and sudden interest in restorative alchemy. So much so that, Brelyna told me I began mumbling recipes during sleep. Who could blame me? Dying because of a disease-ridden skeever sounded horrible after all this effort.

Potent potions were difficult to make because of their complex processes but weak ones took too much space, which forced me to go quality over quantity. I simply couldn’t carry so many potions – even with the old travel bag I’d found abandoned in a corner of the dorm. This was a genuine concern that kept me awake, but I tried to keep it quiet to not worry the others. And also to… to not prove them right. It was annoying how weak I was perceived.

I’d already packed the dusty travel bag with a bedroll and what little spare clothing and commodities I had – only to remember I’d forgotten to add a book. So, just as I was coming back from the Arcanaeum with one under my arm, I encountered Ancano leaving the dorms. Crossing eyes momentarily, we both startled. He looked like a deer in headlights. Before I could even think of something to say, Ancano scoffed and sauntered across the courtyard to enter the Hall of Countenance with a loud bang of its ancient doors.

I couldn’t help but roll my eyes.

Drama queen.

Forgetting about the annoying Thalmor, I made my way inside the empty dorm to wrestle the poor bundle of pages inside my ratty bag – which was already filled to the brim. Or so I thought it was.

There was more than enough space for the book.

Brows furrowing, I weighed the bag qualitatively by lifting it. It was considerably lighter.

Instantly suspicious, I laid everything out on the bed again – only to discover several vials missing.

What in the actual fuck?

Suffice it to say I was enraged.

There was only half the amount of every potion I’d packed. Furiously popping one of the health potion vials open, I sniffed it.

It smelt… like a health potion?

Peeking through the opening, I took a look at its color.

The potion looked much better than the one I’d brewed.

Anger abating somewhat, I considered the glass vial for a few seconds before tentatively taking a tiny bit of a sip.

woAH.

HOOOOLY SHIT. IS THIS WHAT ASTERIX FELT LIKE? WHAT THE FUCK.

It was like drinking liquid HP, I felt like a feather!

Staring down at the potion, I realized someone had switched the ones I’d made with MUCH better and more potent potions.

Potions that required extremely high quality and expensive ingredients.

I didn’t need to carry a shitload of fragile glass vials anymore, those would last me for a two-way journey.

Grinning like an idiot, I felt all warm and tingly from the kind gesture. I had to thank whoever gave me the potions for making my life a hundred times easier.

So, I subtly asked J’zargo, Brelyna, and Onmund about the gifts. They were absolutely gobsmacked. I asked the masters. Nope, not them. Urag? Nuh-uh. For heaven knows why, Nirya? Not her either.

Perplexed, I sat on my bed that night, staring at the ugly bag. If not one of the other novices or the teachers, who would do such a thing for me? I tried to wreck my brain for any other possibility but the only person I hadn’t asked was…

Ancano?

Before I even knew it, I was running out of the dorms.

I had to find that insufferable elf and demand some answers.

—

He was gone.

Groaning in fatigue over running all over the College in search of the Altmer, I laid on my bed amidst the symphonic snores of the other novices.

I’d looked everywhere, even that goddamned Midden where several skellies were parading around, before giving up and asking Savos outright where Ancano was. He’d apparently left without early notice just before dusk – which meant right after we’d seen each other.

He’d taken off right after swapping my potions.

Ugh.

I really couldn’t tell what was going on inside that gigantic head of his.

—

The next morning, all members were standing inside the courtyard, ready to see us off. We’d already cast Mark inside the Masters’ Dorm, Hall of Countenance, as it was stocked with emergency equipment.

“We trust you will return in one piece,” said Faralda with an affirming nod. Phinis handed us steel daggers with magicka-absorbing enchantments. Urag unapologetically demanded we bring back some lost books presumed to be in our respective areas before giving everyone Grand Healing scrolls. Again, everything was fuzzy and sappy until Colette pulled me aside for a second.

“Yesterday you asked me about some potions, yes?” she was whispering for some reason so I just nodded mutely in response. “Well, I have a guess as to who might have done it.” She glanced around. “When you were injured someone supplied me with potions of Ultimate Magicka. If not for those, I couldn’t have healed you completely.”

Ultimate? Those were the strongest Magicka potions! I held her shoulders to keep her eyes on mine.

“Master Colette, please, who was it?”

Pursing her lips, the neurotic Breton glanced around again. It had to be Ancano, right?

“They made me promise not to tell anyone and I’m breaking my promise by even telling you this much.” Her withered hand patted mine resting on her shoulder before squeezing it warmly. “Don’t ask me more and have patience. I have a feeling you will end up speaking either way.”

Fixing my hood with a mutter while ignoring my pleas, she told me to take care of myself before taking her leave.

I stupidly stood there for a few seconds.

The secrecy of this mysterious benefactor had thrown me for a loop. If they wanted to be kept a secret, it was possible a member I’d asked the night before was my potion-maker.

Not to mention Ancano hated my guts and insulted me at every turn. It didn't even make sense for him to help me so abundantly.

Giving me this mystery right before I was leaving? I mean, c’mon!

“Elena, it’s time to go!”

At Onmund’s call, I sighed and turned around to have my ear chewed off about being careful by Mirabelle. Whatever, I would solve it once I returned.

With the last of our farewells, we took our leave of the safe walls of the College.

Here we go.

Chapter Text

Traveling was a miserable, sad thing – especially in this freezing temperature.

After separating from J’zargo and Onmund just outside of Winterhold, I continued southward with Brelyna whereas the boys kept to the West.

Feeling my spirits being lifted somewhat at the sight of Azura’s beautiful statue, I asked Brelyna what she knew about the Mistress of Dusk and Dawn. Her stories made the trek much more tolerable.

The first day passed without problems, excluding some feral wolves. We camped under the stars and giggled in exhaustion over some gossip.

On the second day, a snowy sabre cat chased us and the fucker took 4 solid ice spikes before going down. I stayed away as Brelyna gleefully removed its teeth and eyes with her dagger in revenge. The squelching sounds would remain forever in my mind.

On the morning of the third day, we stood at a crossroads. Brelyna hugged me warmly.

“Write to me once you arrive.”

Nodding while trying to hold back my tears, I managed to garble out an answer with my head buried into her shoulder. "You better respond.”

Her bell-like laughter followed my words.

I watched as she walked away before continuing to the South.

—

It only took a few hours for the trouble to come knocking on my door.

“Well well, look at what we have here.”

Three men in identical armor jumped from their cover behind the trees, blocking the road. Despite their clangy armor and weapons, I hadn’t heard them due to the howling wind shaking the trees.

The burly blonde who’d spoken grinned with darkened and rotten teeth, leering up and down my body. I felt the blood drain from my face, realizing his intent. Another one with a hide helmet grabbed his shoulder, giving it an encouraging push with a chortle.

“Looks like Dibella heard your prayers, brother.”

They all roared in laughter, elbowing each other and I belatedly realized that they were drunk. The blond refocused on me.

“A mage, eh? You from the College?”

The third with the blue swirly war paint squinted at my face, absolutely wasted compared to the other two.

Blue war paint and blue sashes... These were Stormcloak soldiers.

Fuck.

“Gotta be, ain’t it? Look ‘ow clean an’ proper she is. They always think they’re so ‘igh an’ mighty, don’t they,” he hiccupped, swaying on his feet. Maintaining my silence, I gripped the straps of my bag as a plan started to formulate in my brain.

The fear gripping my heart made it near impossible to cast successfully, meaning I couldn’t take all three of them down – drunk or not.

Would I be fast enough to get away running?

“Oi, lass, speak. You mute?”

I could only shake my head.

“Aww, Rulf, look at ye! Ya gone an’ scared ‘er, haven’t ya?”

The blonde, ‘Rulf’, pushed the helmeted one away with a grumble before taking a step towards me. I stumbled back. His leer came back full force.

“Nay, lassie, we just want some fun. You’ll enjoy it, I promise.”

I felt sick as whistles and laughter followed his words.

“Ye better save some fer us!”

Before I could even think as much as to move my legs, he struck out like some snake to grab my wrist in a crushing grip. I shrieked in pain.

“Oh, see Brynn, she can speak!”

“NO!” I started trashing but he was almost twice my size, he didn’t even flinch against my fists.

Rulf laughed.

“She’s tiny,” he grabbed my face with his disgusting paws before pulling me against him.

I sobbed as his revolting breath hit my face.

“Let me go! No! I don’t want this!—” momentarily freeing my face, I didn’t see his hand coming down again. Feeling only the reverberating ring in my left ear and the distant numbness on my skull, I realized he’d slapped me. My head had snapped to the right with the force. He roughly grabbed my face again as if nothing had happened and leisurely thumbed my lips.

“Looks like some noble. Her teeth are like pearls.” He started feeling me up and manhandled my bottom. Bile rose in my throat and wrath woke up along with it.

How dare they do this to me? How dare they touch anyone like this?

A feeling of calm settled over me as I observed myself from outside. These were disgusting monsters preying on what they thought was weak. They weren’t people. They were animals, beasts. I could hurt them.

I wanted to hurt them.

Focusing on my lessons, I remembered the heat. Focus. My magicka responded readily, harmonious to my emotions.

“I said. Let. Me. GO!”

Yellow flames shot out of my hands, hitting his face and melting his skin instantly. Freeing myself from his clutches and ignoring the agonized screams, I turned to bolt into the forest.

“RULF!”

The other two tried to help their brother-in-arms but couldn’t even see straight in their intoxicated state. Ignoring their alarmed shouts and threats, I kept running.

Tears were streaming down my face but I felt nothing except for a dark vindication.

—

I couldn't remember when I’d stopped. When my senses returned, I was lying on the ice-covered ground, shivering and sobbing under a thin layer of snow. The sun was going down, indicating I’d spent hours in shock.

I’d imagined the wildlife attacking me, hell, even a Daedra-worshipping cannibal – but a rapist? Every member of the College was respectful, making me think the rest of Skyrim was so as well. Never did I imagine getting such a wake-up call.

I stood up staggeringly, joints and muscles aching because of the cold. I needed to warm up, the enchantments on my robes weren’t enough after being buried under the snow.

Forgoing a fire for safety, I started to draw a heating rune to lay over the floor under the cover of tree shades. Succeeding on the third try, I laid it on the ground before taking a seat. Steam rose from my clothes. Melting some snow in a small pot, I also furiously scrubbed my face with soap and cleaned my teeth with a crude paste and rag I’d prepared when I’d first arrived in Nirn. By the time I felt my mouth cleansed of filthy touch, my gums, and lips were oozing blood.

I spent the night there, renewing the rune and trying to ignore the phantom feeling of hands pawing at me.

—

The next day, I woke up just before dawn.

Finding my way back to the road wasn’t easy and I was terrified of crossing paths with those monsters again. Thankfully, the road was empty.

Normally I was planning to visit a dragon burial mound in the region but I kept on walking, deciding to make up for the lost time yesterday without taking breaks and eating on foot.

Other than the occasional fox and deer, the day went without disturbance – a relief I could almost cry for again.

When I noticed a bruise was forming on my right wrist, courtesy of Rulf, I chugged a quarter of one of my health potions with wrath. With the energy provided by it, I kept walking for a few hours more after the sun went down, trying to forget the whole ordeal and ignore my conscience.

Luckily, the rest of my journey remained undisturbed, barring the wildlife which tried to gobble me down for dinner on several occasions.

Who knew Savos’s impromptu troll lesson would ever come in handy?

—

Whiterun was an imposing sight.

Acres of farms surrounded the stone city walls, the earth seeming to bleed under the red light of the dusk. I could hear the blacksmith tempering something and the wayward barking of a dog.

It felt peaceful.

“Hey! You, lass!”

Startling at the voice, I turned to the left to see a tall Nord woman approach. Her brown hair was braided back, revealing a sunburnt and friendly visage. She smiled crookedly, skin taut and dry over her cheeks.

“Are you Elena?”

“Yes, I am-wOAH!”

The epitome of a bear hug. I wheezed with my legs hanging in the air as she squeezed the living lights out of me with a merry laugh.

Is this what being constricted by a boa python feels like?

Stumbling to my feet as the Amazonian released me, I took a moment to just breathe. She slapped me on the shoulder before grabbing it and shaking my frame, still grinning. She was obviously showing physical affection but it still reminded me of a cat mauling a mouse for funsies. Not to mention I had no idea who this person was.

“Just like Onmund wrote, tiny and pretty. Thought you were a pup before noticing your robes.”

Onmund? OH. This was the relative. Onmund’s aunt, the fierce woman who’d supported his interest in magic single-handedly against the whole family.

“Y-you must be Yrsa,” I said, wincing a little from the heavy handling.

“Right, I am. Come come, you must be hungry.”

“Oh, yes thank you–”

“No need for thanks between us. TYR!”

Jumping at the sudden bellow, I saw another Nord with a cap hoeing the earth at least 50 meters away. He startled out of his work before lifting his head up in askance.

“Take a break! Elena’s here!” She planted her fists at her hips and shook her head. “You would think he’s blind in both eyes!”

“Why need eyes when I have ears with your voice, woman!” the gruff voice was lighthearted despite the words. Yrsa rolled her eyes and gestured to the approaching man with her hand.

“That’s my husband, Tyr.” What a refreshing dynamic.

“He sounds fun.”

“Aye, especially when he’s deep into his bottles. I can’t hold a candle to his drunken singing.”

Considering how gruff his voice was, I couldn’t help but laugh.

“Oi, stop embarrassing me,” Tyr shared the same sunburnt complexion as his wife, his crimson beard exaggerating the red undertones. When he smiled I realized his left eye was cloudy.

“Nice to finally meet you. We thought something happened with how late you were.”

A grimace formed on my face before I could school it. Yrsa’s brows crossed immediately.

“Pup? Did something happen?”

Panicking, I waved my hands in front of my face. “No, no – don’t worry, I’m fine.” At her pursed lips, I sighed, “Just crossed paths with some unsavory people. I managed to get away unharmed.”

They shared a look, disturbingly similar to the ones Onmund and Brelyna would share.

“Well, you better tell us about it. Now, come. You’ve been on the road for long enough.”

—

Yrsa cooked a mean stew.

“This is delicious. I see where Onmund gets his talent from.”

Yrsa seemed delighted, pushing more bread buns toward me. They were freshly baked and smelled heavenly. Tyr tried to grab one, only to wince when his wife slapped the offending appendage away. I snorted at his pouty expression.

“Thank you, pup. Eat as much as you want, there’s more. And you, ” she pointed a callused finger to her husband before gesturing to me, “that’s how you compliment the cook.”

He grumbled in return but threw a covert wink at me before replying.

“It’s delicious, my love. Thank you. Now, may I have some more bread?”

Yrsa huffed but got up from the table to bring him some. There was a distinct blush painting her cheeks. They were really adorable.

As she busied herself in the small kitchen, Tyr turned to me. “About that… ‘unsavory people’, what exactly happened, lass?”

Taking the last bite from my wooden bowl, I chewed on it slowly to plan my words.

“I…” He patiently waited, expression open. “It happened near Windhelm, after Brelyna and I separated. You know her?”

It was Yrsa who answered.

“Of course.” Taking her seat, she placed a basket of buns in front of Tyr, who smiled appreciatively before grabbing one. “She’s the Dunmer, right? Nephew mentioned her in his letters. Sounded like she’s got a good head on her shoulders.”

“Yeah, she does. The only one among us that does, probably.”

“Don’t sell yourself short. From what I’ve read it’s you two who keep the boys in check.”

Unbidden, the memory of J’zargo and Onmund trying some Jump spell they’d unearthed from the Midden flashed before my eyes. They’d almost cracked their skulls open before I’d arrived to chew their ears off.

“So, what happened after that?” asked Yrsa, cutting my reverie short.

“Oh, right. I walked a few more hours, everything was well. Then three men blocked my way,” grimacing, I looked up at their faces from beneath my lashes. They both seemed worried. “They were drunk and I assume were supposed to be standing watch since… they were Stormcloak soldiers.”

Yrsa clicked her tongue at the last bit and Tyr placed a calming hand on her arm. Pausing in apprehension, I tried to discern whether her reaction was in my favor or not.

“It’s always like this,” she said, blinking angrily, “Disgusting pigs, not knowing a thing about honor, thinking screaming Talos’s name justifies their crimes.”

“...Did this happen before?” I asked apprehensively. Tyr, still patting his wife’s arm, nodded.

“Sometimes news of missing daughters and wives reaches us. There is no evidence on Stormcloaks but… it only happens to non-Nord women traveling in Eastmarch,” meaning, Windhelm’s Hold. Yrsa reached out towards me to cover my hand with hers.

“Did they do anything to you, pup? How did you get away?” Her touch was motherly.

“Their intentions were… obvious. One of them grabbed me. I—”

The smell of alcohol and disgusting sweat.

Burning flesh and hair.

Screams.

“—I probably killed him.”

Silence permeated the air.

I hadn’t thought of that –or just didn’t want to but it was the undeniable truth. The yellow fire I’d cast was much hotter than normal fire, and Rulf’s skin had melted into his muscles right in front of my eyes.

We had been kilometers away from Windhelm and Stormcloaks were notoriously against magic – meaning there was no help around for them. I’d given a painful death sentence to a would-be rapist.

“Good,” said Yrsa sternly. I blinked up at her. “You did well. They wouldn’t have let you go.”

“They wouldn’t?” I parrotted, uncertain.

“No. To protect their name, they would have killed you – as they likely did with the other ones.”

I imagined my body dumped twistedly on the corner of the road after being used, left for wildlife to pick at.

The stew rose in my throat from nausea.

I still couldn’t quite believe the men were going to rape me. The College was civilized, people respectful, and other than occasional bullying, I was never seriously harassed. But I guessed the naivety was on me. Such crimes existed on Earth, why the hell would I think they wouldn’t on Nirn? An almost medieval world? Blood debts were legal, there was no concept of being underage, and blatant racism was everywhere. Of course, rape would be common.

Tyr tapped a finger on the table

“Don’t you blame yourself, lass. You protected yourself, be proud that you did so.”

That was… true. I’d managed to injure my assailant and get away. The attack had happened, yes, but I was ultimately safe.

“And the other two?”

“They were way too drunk to give chase. I got away easily once I burnt the one holding me.”

Yrsa nodded firmly, fist banging on the table. “I hope they fall in their own trapping pit with their breeches down.”

I guffawed. Tyr pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Yrsa…”

“What? It’s the least they deserve.”

“Just wish death on them.”

“No. Pain first, death later.”

“They will be denied entry to Sovngarde. That’s the worst pain a Nord can have.”

“Well, they can feel a little worldly pain before that.”

They started bickering. How bizarre it was. To be able to debate such a thing with ease.

I was thankful though, at how they refrained from coddling me. I needed time to digest murdering a person, evil or not.

—

Afterward, Yrsa kicked Tyr out to visit their neighbor for a drink so that I could bathe.

I mean, not bathe exactly. It was actually doing your best with a bucketful of soapy water.

Fortunately, Whiterun was much warmer with its low altitude, and having a wash on foot was not the torture it used to back in Winterhold.

Yrsa gathered my robes to wash them despite my objections, saying, “I will not allow you to see the Jarl in rank clothes. Go wash up and stop worrying.” Well. Who was I to argue?

Feeling tons better after gleefully scrubbing the days worth of road dirt, I wore my spare tunic before Yrsa came back with my remarkably clean but wet robes. I had no idea how she scrubbed them so well without fire salts. We laid the robes over some heating runes and took our seats at the table for some night-time tea.

“Tell me about the College, how is Onmund?” asked Yrsa after taking a deep slurp from her drink. It was something herbal and spicy with a smidge of honey. I could feel the tension leaving my frame with every sip.

“It’s amazing how attentive and caring the masters are,” I said with a smile, the clay mug warming my hands. “They truly wish us the best. Onmund, as far as I can tell, really loves it there. I know he misses his family though.”

“Not surprising. He’s used to having them swarm him,” mused Yrsa. She had a reminiscing expression.

“I’m really glad he has you,” I said softly. “From what I’ve heard, you’re the reason he got so far with his studies. He always mentioned how lucky he was to have you.”

“Ah, hush, you’re making me blush,” she laughed breezily, waving a hand in front of her face, “It wasn’t me, it was his determination that got him far.” Seeing my inquisitive look, she continued.

“When he was a kid, he had this spark no one knew what to do with. He was so smart. My brother, his da, knew this and tried to shape Onmund to his whims. He’d say he was going to be a Companion and make the family proud.”

“He never grew interested in blades and showed talent in magic, doing small light tricks and whatnot. He would come bounding and show me flames dancing in his tiny palms,” she brushed her thumb to the palm of her other hand with a far-away look. “His ma disliked magic too, which didn’t help at all. Tyr and I tried our best to encourage him but had to move away to Whiterun when the land couldn’t feed 2 families at once.”

Onmund had mentioned this part. The farm simply couldn’t produce enough income to support them all, so Yrsa and Tyr had to find new jobs, which happened to be on another farm in Whiterun.

“Onmund wanted to come with us, so I begged my brother to take him but he wouldn’t hear it,” she sighed, looking defeated. “So I did the only thing I could do, sending Onmund coin for books and lending him an ear through letters. I wish I could’ve done more, he’s such a sweet boy.” This woman was precious and I wanted to protect her forever.

“You did more than enough Yrsa,” I said tentatively, trying to convince her with my eyes. “Never think otherwise. Onmund is where he always wanted to be and it’s all thanks to you. You were his pillar in that family, the only one who cared for his dreams. I know very well how much he appreciates you.” I really did, from the childhood memories he’d shared with me.

The happiest ones always included Yrsa in them, with a guiding and helping hand. She looked ready to cry at my words.

“Oh, pup,” said the woman laughing wetly and patting my arm, “thank you.”

The rest of the evening was spent in a similar atmosphere, trading stories and sharing laughs.

—

We woke up before dawn.

“I will take you to the gates. Did you see the big manor at the end of the city?” Tyr asked as he buttered a slice of bread. He ate it in one ginormous bite under my amazed scrutiny.

“The one that towered over the city? Yeah, it was pretty amazing.”

“That’s the Dragonsreach, Jarl’s palace. Farengar lives there as well.” He was buttering another slice at the speed of light, oblivious to Yrsa’s glare.

“Do you know him?” I asked, hoping to get some clues about the wizard’s character.

“Eh, no. No one does, honestly, he’s a little bit of a recluse,” he paused slightly, “a little bit arrogant too, with that attitude of his—”

“Tyr! You’re worrying her.”

Tyr held up his hands placatingly, bread hanging from his mouth.

Yrsa turned to me, voice earnest, “It will be fine, pup. Just be yourself, I’m sure he will be charmed.”

Tyr nodded, still munching. “Well, yeah, he’s a man–.”

“Husband!”

I couldn’t help but laugh this time, making Tyr smirk beneath his beard and Yrsa sigh.

”Just go up there and introduce yourself. You’re here to learn and he will do his job. Also,” she wagged a finger in front of my face, making me go cross-eyed looking at it.

“Don’t be a stranger. Come visit when you can.”

—

Whiterun really was a proper city compared to the barebones of Winterhold, even by size alone.

As we neared the looming walls, the sounds of the bustling town reached my ears, reminding me of the lively cities I used to inhabit back on Earth. I couldn’t help but feel a little emotional. I’d almost forgotten the sound of it.

We stopped a little way back from the gates.

“Here we are, lass. Go to the guards and tell them why you are here. Can you find your way from there?”

“Of course, I just need to climb up, right?” I answered jokingly. Tyr laughed.

“That’s right. If you have trouble, don’t hesitate to ask around for help.”

Just as he finished a deep feminine voice resounded from behind us, “I didn’t know you had a daughter, Tyr.”

I turned my head to the voice, surprised someone would think us relatives. Tyr clapped a hand on my shoulder.

“Nay, Aela. This is Elena, a family friend.”

Aela was a redhead Nord with silvery eyes, wearing a mix of iron and hide armor. She definitely cut an imposing figure with her large longbow and green war paint streaked across her visage.

“A mage?” Her voice was pleasantly void of judgment.

“Here to be an apprentice to Farengar. Elena, this is Aela the Huntress, a member of the Companions.”

Companions? Weren’t they those warriors Onmund’s father liked so much? I didn’t know they had female members.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” I quipped, grinning brightly, and saw her mouth twitch slightly in return. Gotcha, grumps.

“Farengar, huh? You have your work cut out for you.” First Tyr, now her?

“How do you mean?”

Full lips shaped in a lopsided smirk, revealing shockingly sharp canines and making me stare at the fierce beauty of the image.

“You’ll see. Shall I accompany you to the palace?”

Blinking at the sudden change of subject, I glanced up at Tyr who nodded encouragingly.

“Go on, lass. We will be expecting to hear from you.”

“Alright, thank you so much for all you’ve done for me.”

“Nay, stop with that garbage. Shoo.”

Laughing at the words, I nodded and walked towards the gates after Aela, who was already there talking with the guards.

“She’s with me.”

The guard, whose face was indiscernible behind that ridiculous helm, sized me up before giving a nod.

“As you say, companion. OPEN THE GATES!”

These people had some really impressive lungs.

The massive doors opened with a resounding creak and we stepped into the city.

—

A place so beautiful shouldn’t have been so stinky.

The stench of excrement, both human and animal, wafted out heavily from the earth, strengthened by the warmth of the morning sun. At that moment I realized there were some merits to Winterhold’s cold climate, including frozen organisms' lack of smell.

Aela chuckled in front of me, throwing a glance from the corner of her eyes.

“What’s wrong? City stench too heavy for you?”

I was taking shallow breaths from my mouth and gave a pained involuntary smile.

“You guys don’t have sewers?”

She scoffed as if the question was offensive.

“Of course not. It’s not easy to dig such a thing up on a whim.”

“Other cities have it?”

“Solitude and Riften do. Markarth as well, but only because it was built by the Dwemer.” Onmund, you lucky bastard. “You’ll get used to it.”

“I certainly hope not...” I muttered, staring at the wooden houses and manors. Colorful flowers decorated the city and roads were inlaid with large stones, giving the whole area a welcoming rustic feeling.

Like I said, pretty but stinky.

“This here is the Marketplace. You can get your Alchemy stuff from Arcadia’s shop,” she pointed to a house with a signboard saying ‘Arcadia’s Cauldron’, “I imagine Farengar will have you running errands to pick up deliveries from here.” Great.

She mentioned some other stores and inns, greeting what seemed to be all the residents of the town by name, before moving on.

“This is the Jorrvaskr, the hall of the Companions.”

I stared at the structure, weirded out.

“It’s… a ship.”

There was also a gigantic bird statue residing over the hill behind it, covered in the black fumes of a forge.

“Aye, it’s the ship some of the Five Hundred boarded during the Return. Whiterun was built around it.”

The Five Hundred Companions were Ysgramor’s men, who’d come from Atmora to enact revenge on the Falmer – something that had happened over 5 thousand years ago. I gaped at her.

“How is it still standing?”

She smiled proudly, gazing at its wooden beams.

“Renovations and repairs. It’s well taken care of.” That was quite the feat. “Up there is the Skyforge. Eorlund Gray-Mane works it, the steel forged there is unlike any other.”

“What’s with the bird?” I asked, gesturing to the statue with my chin.

“No one truly knows. It was here along with the forge before Jorrvaskr was built.”

Just then the angsty voice of a man bellowed, “We are but maggots, writhing in the filth of our own corruption!”

Aela and I stared at the pale-robed man, who was standing in front of a statue, hands held high up to the skies. “While you have ascended from the dung of mortality, and now walk among the stars!” What the fuck?

“Is he… preaching?”

Aela sighed, a hand resting on her hip. “Aye. That’s Heimskr, a priest of Talos.”

The guy gave another passionate cry before shaking his fists in the air.

“He’s very… enthusiastic,” I commented lightly, making her snort.

“That’s putting it lightly. He’s very dedicated to giving the same sermon every day, starting from dawn. It’s like having a man-shaped rooster.”

Ah, yes. He was right next to the Jorrvaskr. Suddenly Heimskr noticed us staring and started pointing at us in sync with his words.

“I do this for you, Red Legions,” his arms opened wide as Aela grabbed my arm with a swear, walking away quickly with me in tow.

“I know what comes after this,” she muttered.

“ – for I love you!” kinda howling at the end, Heimskr fell to his knees dramatically. I had to clamp a hand to my mouth not laugh out loud.

Quickly climbing up the stairs leading to the Dragonsreach, we lost sight of the man – but, unfortunately, not of his voice.

Passing a guard looking half-dead on his feet, we finally made it to the grand, carved doors of the palace. Aela didn’t even blink as she pushed them open, entering inside in a confident and assertive manner. I scrambled in behind her.

It was less grandeur and more warmth inside, with an atmospheric built-in bonfire in the middle of the great hall. I could see a man lounging on what looked like a throne. There was also a huge reptilian skull on the wall above him.

Wait.

Was that a dragon skull?

“Companion, what brings you here?”

He was a middle-aged blonde Nord man, wearing expensive clothing and a golden crown. Clearly, this was Jarl Balgruuf the Greater. Was I supposed to bow? Curtsy? Salute?? I was also trying my darndest to look at the royal man and not the skeletal remains of a mythical beast which was much more interesting than some Nord man to be perfectly honest–

“My Jarl,” greeted Aela simply. “I’m here to collect the bounty on Bleakwind Basin’s giant and to,” she gestured to me, beckoning me closer, “bring your wizard’s new apprentice.”

The Jarl appraised me with intelligent eyes, quite unlike Jarl Korir’s who had only disgust in his gaze for College members. I kept silent, accustomed to doing so in Korir’s presence, and waited for him to say something. The Jarl raised a brow.

“Don’t be afraid, girl. Speak, what’s your name?” Just after his words, a Dunmer female in leathers materialized at his elbow, glaring menacingly. I couldn’t help but tense.

“Elena,” I said, wetting my lips. “I was sent from the College of Winterhold to learn under the tutelage of Farengar Secret-Fire.”

The Jarl sighed, rubbing the bridge of his hawkish nose.

“Farengar didn’t mention a new apprentice,” said the Dunmer with a smokey voice. Balgruuf squinted up at her from his seat, incredulous.

“Are you surprised? He did the exact same thing with all his previous assistants.” The more I heard about this guy, the more I liked him. Sarcasm very much intended.

Turning back to Aela, the Jarl nodded at the huntress. “Your service is appreciated, Aela. Proventus will send the coin before noon.”

“Thank you, my Jarl.” She turned back to me, heavily clapping my shoulder. “Good luck and come visit me at the Jorrvaskr sometime.”

I smiled. “I will take you up on that offer. Thanks, Aela.”

She sauntered away, leaving me alone with the scary Dunmer and bemused Jarl.

“Irileth, I need you to get Farengar.” The dark elf, Irileth now, gave a sharp affirmative to the Jarl before making her way to the right wing of the palace.

“I hope you don’t quit as quickly as the previous students.”

Startling slightly at the sudden address, I turned to see Balgruuf smirking.

“...Sorry. Quit?”

He nodded, looking at the archway where Irileth had disappeared into. “Farengar has a… difficult personality and a clear distaste for apprentices. Whenever a new one comes, he gives them the most menial tasks. They usually leave after a week, frothing at the mouth.”

I frowned, feeling irked to hear that after traveling this far. “Why does he accept taking apprentices in then?”

“You’ll need to ask him that.”

Irileth appeared again, in tow with a robed tall man – a man that looked like some Merlin knock-off with the cowl and his belt made of a rope. And he had mutton chops.

Mutton chops.

They came to stand by the steps leading up to the throne. Irileth gestured towards me, impatient.

“Here’s your new apprentice.”

Farengar scanned me from head to toe before frowning.

“Ervine didn’t mention a child.” Oh, the nerve of this guy…

“Fortunately,” I said, with clenched teeth and a forced smile, “I’m 24 years old. Not a child, you see – if you can from under that hood, that is. ”

Balgruuf coughed in the background, audibly stifling a laugh. Farengar didn’t look as amused.

“What I see is that the College became lax with its students. I will not tolerate disrespect.”

Balgruuf waved a jeweled hand, smiling placatingly. “Now now, Farengar. You didn’t even mention her arrival. If Aela hadn’t escorted her in, she would’ve been stuck at the gates.” That was news to me too. “You’re the one that failed her from the start.”

Farengar, at the mercy of his lord, pursed his lips. “That’s… well…” sniffing, he crossed his arms. “Very well. I shall ignore your insult for this instance. Now, follow me."

Turning on his heels, he started walking toward what I assumed was his quarters. “You need to familiarize yourself with your work.”

Fumbling slightly and offering speedy gratitude to the amused Jarl and Irileth I tailed after Farengar the Asshole.

—

He introduced me to the outlay of his laboratory and told me what things were off-limits. After he finished listing them all, I asked him why he just didn’t tell me the things I could touch, since it would be a shorter list. He started to berate me for being a smart-ass before pausing in the middle of his lecture to demand my name.

The dude hadn’t even cared enough to learn it.

After that, he summoned a servant called Gerda to show me where I could sleep and store my bags. She was a kind elderly lady, completely sympathizing with me about Farengar. She led me to the servant’s quarters and we laid out a cot for me in the corner. It wasn’t my room in the College but it was a bed to fall into at the end of the day.

And so started my first day with Farengar, who had me grinding dead bugs for the first few hours.

“Make sure the wings are well powdered.”

“Remove the chitinous part outside.”

“Clean out the pestle before moving to a new species.”

“Is that how they taught you in the College? The standards certainly have dropped.”

Then he handed me a bowl full of troll fat. I thought he wanted me to make a paste of it or melt it for a potion –but no.

What he had me doing was conditioning his leather-bound books with the fat. I was retching the whole time, it was disgusting. It got everywhere, including my nailbeds, and smelt positively horrible. Not to mention the books were cracked beyond belief –meaning Farengar himself didn’t like doing this either.

Gerda, fortunately, knew how to remove the remaining bits from my hand and cuticles with distilled alcohol.

By the time dusk arrived, I was stained with questionable alchemy ingredients up to my elbows whereas my new mentor was pristine as ever. I didn’t even know what Farengar had spent the day doing since he was mostly in his small study, which was connected to the laboratory.

Exiting the said study, he just took a look at me before grumbling and telling me to change before dinner.

Like it was my fault that my robes got dirty.

When I returned, the hall was filled with the members of the court and good food. Taking a seat and maintaining my silence, I quietly listened in on the names and conversations while sipping on my soup next to Farengar. I was only startled out of my spying when a redheaded kid plopped down on the empty seat next to me.

And promptly started staring at me.

Without blinking.

Clearing my throat, I glanced at the child from the corner of my eyes.

“Hello?” I offered with a tentative smile. He frowned.

“Who are you?” The crotch goblin hadn’t even acknowledged my greeting.

“I’m Elena.” Looking to the other side of me to gesture at Farengar, I discovered his seat to be empty. The dude had sneaked out without telling me.

I turned back to the kid, feeling like an idiot thanks to Farengar, and scratched my head with the hand I was pointing at the seat, “Farengar’s new apprentice.”

He glared harder, eying me with a newfound distaste.

“No. Who are you?” There was a small unhinged glint in his eyes.

I suddenly felt tense, my tongue drying under the intense scrutiny.

There was a feeling of spidery spindly legs crawling across my back, dancing on my skull.

Shivers of disgust and unsettlement.

A languid laugh of a woman.

I could hear–

“Nelkir!” Balgruuf’s voice boomed across the hall like artillery fire.

Before I could realize what had happened, the kid fled the room, toppling his chair down to the floor. I blinked dazedly after him.

“Elena? Are you well?” Balgruuf was looking at me from the table across the fire, face solemn.

“Yes,” I said, throat still dry as a desert. “I am. Thank you,” I paused, still feeling weird. “Who was that?”

“Nelkir,” Answered the Jarl, “my youngest.”

“Did he say something to you?” It was Hrongar, Balgruuf’s younger brother, who’d asked the question. I frowned at the sluggish feeling in my mind. Why was it so hard to remember?

“I think… I think he asked me who I was?” I realized he expected me to elaborate. “That’s it. I answered but he asked again.”

Balgruuf sighed.

“Tell me if he bothers you again. Now, Proventus, about the provisions…” The hall quickly filled with chatter again, ignoring the event as I sat there, lost and nauseous.

Was it just me or did the Jarl just ignore his kid doing some weird shit to people?

I looked around, trying to catch someone’s eye. Everyone was adamantly ignoring my gaze.

Why was this world so weird?

Chapter Text

9th of Rain's Hand, 4E 201

Dear Brelyna,

I am well, thank you for asking a million times in your letter. The first 5 times were not, as you predicted, enough for me to understand that I needed to convey this point as articulately as possible in my answer.

Iterating again: I am safe and well in Whiterun. I hope the same goes for you too.

How is Dravynea treating you? I’m really curious about how the other masters are, now that I’ve met Farengar. He’s… quite the character.

In the last three days that have passed, I’ve barely left the palace. I’m preparing ingredients and cleaning around all day long. I have no idea what Master Savos was thinking when he agreed to make Farengar one of the mentors…

He doesn’t even teach me anything! Spends all his time bent over his desk pouring over books! I’m not allowed to help with his research since he thinks that my intellect falls inadequate in juxtaposition to his (his exact words). I told him to get off his high horse and inaugurate living betwixt us obsequious mortals. He kicked me out of the lab for the remainder of the day.

The joke's on him, since the break gave me the opportunity to make new acquaintances and visit friends.

I also met a Companion on my first day here called Aela the Huntress, she was the one that showed me around the town and escorted me up to the palace. Following my untimely exile from the lab, I went to visit the Companion, to find her training some members. After watching them spar for a few rounds she asked if I could help them train against magic.

You should’ve seen the fear in their eyes, Brelyna. Aela had me throwing lightning at them, ignoring their pained yelps and shouting at them to ‘stop being a milk drinker’ and dodge properly.

It was the best targeting practice I’ve ever had so far. Despite my obvious glee at zapping them, the members were good sports (except for Njada, I don’t even want to spend ink on her). The newest one, Ria, offered to teach me how to handle a blade. They all laughed at my stance and awkward hold over the sword but still gave me pointers. Definitely learned much more in a few hours with the Companions than with Farengar in days.

Have you received news from Onmund and J’zargo? I will write to them as well but who knows when the letters would reach them, not to mention an answer making its way back to me.

By the way, I’ve been sleeping a bit badly. My cot is placed in the Servant’s Quarters and there is a constant low-humming draft. I think my subconscious thinks the sound is some kind of whisper or something, I keep hearing voices in my dreams. Do you have a recommendation for better sleep? I tried that tea you recommended before but it didn’t help.

Take care of yourself and stay safe in those mines, alright? I made friends with my roommates so I’m sending you some dried jerky and fruits sneaked out of the kitchens.

I can't wait for the apprenticeship to end. I miss you all.

All my love,

Elena.

—
Everything came to a boiling point on the fifth day.

“Where are you going?” I asked upon seeing my pseudo-master leave his small study.

Farengar had a satchel filled with scrolls and potions thrown over his shoulder and was tugging some enchanted mittens down his hands. He looked up absently upon hearing my voice.

“Some Necromancer activity was reported to the Jarl, I was asked to take care of it.”

My body gave an reflexive lunge forward, excitement sparking in me.

“Take me with you!”

Farengar flinched at my loudness and turned to fully face me, wide-eyed. “Pardon?”

“Take me with you,” I repeated, a little embarrassed by the outburst but still insistent. “I could help! And -and you could teach me things.” The word finally went unsaid.

Face souring and getting all haughty, Farengar crossed his arms.

“I suppose I haven't made myself quite clear. I have been assigned to kill a Necromancer," he paused and looked me up and down, as if gauging my intelligence, "a mage who raises corpses to fight for them. You’d be nothing but a burden.”

I know what a necromancer is you fucking—

“I can fight,” I argued with a scowl, which he mirrored.

“This is not some Destruction practice you would have at the College.” Completely disregarding my obvious indignation, he grabbed his enchanted dagger from the table. “You can’t even begin to imagine what these kinds of fights entail.”

I could feel my face flushing with anger and my hands tightening to fists.

“I traveled to Whiterun from Winterhold," I hissed through clenched teeth. "I fought off sabre cats, wolves, and trolls. I killed a man to defend myself. I did all that all alone in this frozen land without your deprecating inputs! I am STRONG.” My clenched fist shot up, finger pointing at Farengar’s chest, emphasizing my wrath with the violent gesture.

“But you? You make me feel like a burden by treating me like something you merely tolerate. You are not a mentor or a master -don’t you dare call yourself one!" Farengar had paused all his movements and was looking down at me in shock. "I learned more from the town alchemist while I was doing your goddamn chores! So, instead of an apprentice aspiring to be a proper mage, go get a servant and stop wasting everyone’s time!”

Silence—

except for my bull-like breathing.

It only took me a few seconds to realize the gravity of the things I had roared at the top of my lungs to the whole palace. The lab had no doors to muffle the sounds.

Standing with a perfect ‘resting bitch’ face that had slowly taken over the shock, Farengar was giving away nothing. Several people passed by the door, peering inside in what they thought was a surreptitious manner.

I wanted to crawl inside the ground and die.

“Calm yourself until I return,” saying those last words, Farengar left without a backward glance.

—

In my embarrassment, I couldn’t leave the lab to go to my cot and pack up, as I was sure to get kicked out after pulling shit like that. However, my face wasn’t thick enough to face the residents of the palace after giving them a whole drama show.

Deciding to do the very healthy thing of ignoring problems and focusing on tasks, I started to painstakingly copy a Wall of Fire scroll. It was particularly intricate with overlaying runes and slow Magicka emulsion – the ideal distraction for hours. Then recharged Irileth’s enchanted sword, nipped new quills, and refilled inkpots.

By the time sun went down hours later, I’d finished all my chores except for dividing Farengar’s newly ordered ingredients into portions.

Then the halls would be emptied and I could do my walk of shame down to the Servant’s Quarters.

Head bent over the desk and filled with those thoughts while studiously ignoring the pang of hunger in my stomach, I didn’t notice Farengar entering the lab.

“Here.”

An old book slid across the desk to softly thump against the balance scale I was using to measure frost salts. Startled, my eyes caught the title.

‘There be Dragons’.

Excuse me, what?

Slowly looking up at the dusty and slightly singed wizard, I stared at his surly face in confusion.

Did he want me to condition it?

He gave a long-suffering sigh, all dramatic.

“You made your distaste for your current responsibilities extremely and loudly clear.” Cringing at the deliberate choice of words, I asked meekly.

“...How loud was I?”

“Very.”

Not holding your punches back, huh, Farengie?

He continued, unbothered by my lack of an answer.

“It was mortifying to be made a spectacle to the whole palace, including the Jarl.” He did hear it after all. Yikes. “Nevertheless, you were right.”

…

I was what?

“I only accepted to take an apprentice because I owed Ervine a favor and wanted it erased. The previous apprentices I voluntarily had were incompetent buffoons incapable of brewing even the simplest of potions. I thought you would be the same and decided early on to waste minimal effort on you,” he placed his satchel on the desk and eyed the scroll I’d left out to dry.

“However In the last 5 days, you’ve proven you know the basics well and showed dedication to even the measliest tasks. Moreover, I see you demonstrating genuine effort,” grabbing the book he’d slid across the desk upon arriving, he held it out to me like an offering of peace.

“Taking all that into account, I’ve decided to give you a chance in helping with my research. From this point forward, I will oversee your training properly.” I gingerly grabbed the book from his hands, feelings of shock coursing through my body at how the events had turned out.

“...I was quite honestly expecting you to kick me out,” I managed weakly, clutching the book. He gave an uncharacteristic smirk and moved toward the washing basin.

“I contemplated it,” the wizard paused slightly just as he was about to wash his face, voice echoing and muffled. “I admire your tenacity, but don’t mistake this for leniency. I will not tolerate such disrespect again.” Despite hearing that sentence numerous times before, I wasn’t exactly counting on it this time.

“...Now go get something for both of us to eat from the kitchens," he ordered. "We have much to do.” Then promptly returned to his cleaning, water sloshing to the floor.

“...Fine.”

Well, it would be weird if he’d changed too much.

Or apologized.

—

Farengar kept to his word and let me in on his research, which was about dragons.

Dragons.

The wizard was investigating their sudden disappearance, much to Balgruuf's displeasure.

“He thinks I need to focus on subjects that will benefit the city or the garrison,” scoffed Farengar when we were going through writs in Dovahzul. I had no idea where he’d gotten them from or how we were going to translate a dead dragon language. “There’s so much I can take before getting tired of devising new stamina potions.”

“I thought he supported your research.”

“Not this particular one.”

Using a sparse amount of sources, we managed to glean some meaning from the writs – albeit slowly. I had made it into a habit of greeting Farengar with Dovahzul in the mornings and memorizing words for the fun of it. It was something I was used to doing since birth – I had a Turkish mother and a French father after all. My parents kept moving to different countries throughout my childhood, so I picked up English pretty quickly too. Imagine a house using three separate languages at the same time. I had a terrible time in kindergarten.

Farengar hadn’t expected me to catch up with him in Dovahzul but still encouraged my progress saying the research would be faster with two people knowing the language.

The writs were revealed to be about not dragons but people. They sounded like gravestone carvings -sometimes lamenting, sometimes advising. The wizard finally divulged they were indeed from these great walls scattered across Skyrim, theorized to be left from Nords who lived under the thumb (or claw?) of the dragons during the Merethic Era.

Farengar didn’t forget to add arcane tutoring to our schedule, our main focus being Restoration since he was surprisingly proficient in it. I took over some of his responsibilities in healing the watchmen on towers. It also gave me the opportunity to visit Yrsa and Tyr more.

One day, I returned from Western Watchtower to an unusual scene.

Farengar was talking with a hooded woman in furious hushed whispers, rustling through some books and pointing at maps. I stood at the doorway awkwardly, afraid of disturbing the intense atmosphere.

The woman, as if feeling my presence, threw a glance at me from the corner of her eyes.

“You have a guest.”

Farengar raised his eyes, surprised for a second. “Ah, that’s Elena, my apprentice.”

“You have an apprentice?” the woman asked with a disbelieving tone.

“I’m standing right here, you know.” Approaching the duo, I put Farengar’s satchel of potions I’d borrowed in a cupboard.

“How long have you been working here?” demanded the woman. Having a clear view of her face, I realized she was a blonde Breton with stern features. Her eyes were sharp and intelligent.

“...Almost five weeks,” I answered after a second. Farengar was uncharacteristically silent.

“Explains the sudden progress in translations,” observed the woman, making me blink and turn to the wizard.

“How does she know about that?”

The Breton answered in his stead, “I’m the one providing you with those materials and paying you to analyze them.”

“Huh.” So she was the benefactor. “Well, thanks. It’s really interesting to be able to study this.”

“You can thank me by keeping all this,” she gestured to the desk sprawled with research papers,” to yourself.”

“Don’t worry, Farengar already gave me the confidentiality speech.” And it was killing me not to write to the others about it. She nodded, pleased with my answer.

“Good,” she glanced at Farengar pensively, who looked back at her for a second before giving a nod. “Then you can hear this too.” Approaching the map stand next to the desk, she pointed at some clearing located Northwest of Riften.

“There’s a dragon burial mound there that used to be untouched for centuries –since the dragon resting in it was slain, to be more precise.”

“Used to be?” I parrotted.

“It’s opened and empty.”

Squinting at the map, I re-evaluated its distance to Riften – a city well-known for its thieves. “I didn’t know dragons had grave robbers.”

“Me neither, that’s why I found it suspicious – but I need to know more before reaching a conclusion.” She then pointed at another location on the map, this time Southwest of Whiterun and near Riverwood, “This is Bleak Falls Barrow, an ancient Nordic tomb. According to my sources, the Dragonstone is likely buried there.” I was getting confused by the sudden jumps in the subject, whereas Farengar lit up like a Christmas tree at the word ‘Dragonstone’.

“How did you find it?” asked the wizard fervently, in contrast to my dull, “What is the Dragonstone?”.

“It’s a map revealing the locations of all the dragon burial mounds in Skyrim – and as to how I’ve found it… don't concern yourselves with that.”

Farengar seemed to be used to that answer.

“Confidentiality?” I offered, smiling wryly and receiving a frown in turn.

“Word alone is not reliable in this case. You will make do with the information I give you.” Geez, she was too stern. “We need to recover the stone as fast as possible.”

Farengar and I glanced at each other, sharing the same thought for the first time ever.

“You can’t do it?” I asked the woman.

“I have other matters to attend to, not to mention I will need you to decipher it either way. I don’t care whether you retrieve it yourselves or find someone else to do it.”

Turning to Farengar with a manic grin and begging eyes, I opened my mouth to implore but was beaten to it by his surly voice saying “No.”

“But you can’t leave the palace for that long–”

“–And it’s too dangerous for you to go alone," cut in the wizard with a sharp tone. "There are more than enough muscle-brained mercenaries out there we can pay. The stone might not even be there for all we know, you would risk your life despite that?”

The woman sighed and tugged on her hood, making sure it concealed her steely features well.

“Decide fast, my employer is waiting.” She left with feline-like steps and abandoned us to our argument.

I turned back to Farengar, crossing my arms.

“Do you really want to pay some people whom you can’t trust, might I add, to find such a valuable relic?”

“Of course not, but it’s a better alternative to your likely demise.”

My body slumped on the desk, a groan crawling out in sync. “I will be fine. I navigated ancient tombs before.”

“I refuse to take responsibility for your death and explain it to the College.” Still scowling, he opened his letter drawer, one of the forbidden items on his list. “Ervine is already hounding me about your safety.” He held out several letters, “These are all from her.”

There were at least half a dozen envelopes, all sharing the same elegant handwriting of Mirabelle.

A sudden lurch of emotions encompassed my chest. Farengar must have noticed it from my expression because he gave a heaving sigh before putting the letters back in the drawer.

“I understand your… excitement about this, I share it after all. However, you must realize the dangers surrounding such a place, especially when ventured alone or with someone you can’t trust.” With a jolt, I remembered being almost killed by a draugr’s offhand slash of the blade. My survival was all thanks to my friends.

A brief moment of silence passed before I huffed. "Fine, yes. You’re right.”

Nodding with a surprising absence of egoistic inputs, he grabbed a few parchments to scribble on.

“Tell the innkeepers and guards we’re looking for a brute who would be willing to risk their lives for some coin.”

“...Would you like me to use those exact words?”

“I trust your judgment.”

Snorting at his deadpan answer, I grabbed the parchments to distribute among the guards.

“I’m honored.”

—

Farengar had offered 300 coins for the ‘relic’ and just in a few days, any adventurers who turned up at our door and left for the Barrow never returned again. I was honestly feeling bad about sending so many people to their death in a roundabout way but also thankful to Farengar for convincing me not to go.

If those gigantic men and women with their equally gigantic weapons couldn’t retrieve the stone, there was no way I could alone.

One afternoon during my seventh and final week in Whiterun, just as I was considering proposing to ask the Companions for help to Farengar, a light commotion echoed from the throne room. Used to witnessing even brawls on occasion, we ignored the sounds until the Jarl himself barged inside the lab with an agitated look.

“Farengar, I think I’ve found someone who can help you with your dragon project.” Then a lanky and sickly-looking Nord entered the room, with hair so pale it looked white.

He was young, halfway out of adolescence, with angular features. His shoulders gave the illusion of bearing the weight of the world with their slumped form despite only carrying a wooden bow. Also, he was covered in soot.

I was pretty sure my face was just as skeptical as Farengar’s about both Balgruuf’s extremely sudden interest in the research and the candidate man, or boy, who looked half-dead on his feet.

“Go on, fill him in. And Axl,” the Jarl said, turning to the boy, “tell them what you’ve seen. I must go talk with Caius.” Then he left with a charismatic swish of his fur cape.

“...Right,” I said, squinting up at ‘Axl’. I couldn’t see if he had any wounds or not beneath all the dirt and dust. “Would you… like some healing?.”

He blinked down at me in return before answering awkwardly, “Err, no – I’m not hurt.”

“What did the Jarl mean when he said ‘tell them what you’ve seen’?” asked Farengar, unconcerned with the boy’s health.

“I’m coming from Helgen. A dragon attacked it.”

…

“Come again?” I blurted out just as Farengar yapped a blank “What?”. Sparing me a weird look – I really needed to stop using slang– Axl scratched his head.

“We were getting our, uh, heads chopped off when this huge and black dragon came swooping down.” He looked nervous enough just talking about it and I realized with a jolt he’d said ‘heads chopped off’. “It burned the whole keep to the ground, killed a bunch of soldiers and imprisoners before taking off.”

Well. Wow.

“How did you get away?” I questioned, feeling a little dazed at the news and glancing at Farengar who had a highly distracted expression going on. His brain was probably malfunctioning a little.

“A friend helped me escape, I did almost die several times.”

“We’re lucky you didn’t. Good job making it all the way here.”

Huffing at my words, he laughed self-deprecatingly. “I didn’t know what else to do after everything. It still feels like a dream.”

I smiled at that, feeling kinship. “Believe me, I know what that feels like.” I waved a hand at Farengar, “So, are we sending him to the tomb? This clearly became a priority now.”

A dragon attacking a village out of nowhere, their graves being emptied out… There was something fishy going on.

“What exactly do you need from me?” asked Axl.

“A tablet needs to be retrieved from the Bleak Falls Barrow. It’s a Nordic ruin west of Riverwood,” Farengar answered, having shaken his stupor off.

“And, what does it have to do with dragons?”

“The tablet is actually a map,” I began. “It contains the locations of dragon burial sites. Seeing as dragons are somehow returning to life, the graves might be helpful in untangling the mystery.”

Axl nodded.

“Alright, I’ll go get it,” he promptly turned around to go on his merry way.

Oh my god, we were sending practically a kid to his grave.

“Wait! Wait – I’ll come with you.”

Axl turned back to me with a startled expression. “Huh?”

“Elena–” Farengar started but I beat him to it.

“No, I’m not letting him go all alone.” Huffing, I faced Axl. “Give me a few minutes to grab some stuff. I’ll meet you at the city doors.”

“A-alright.”

The wizard was standing there with crossed arms, face thunderous. I rolled my eyes.

“Stop that.”

He sighed in response, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Stay in one piece and watch out for the traps, I’m expecting you to return with the stone.”

“Aye aye, cap’n.”

—

Axl was awkward –especially when evading my small talk with all the grace of a teenager. He wasn’t rude by any means, just standoffish.

Also, all my worries about his safety evaporated away when he shot a wolf right between the eyes from 100 meters distance with that primitive bow of his.

I didn’t think he actually needed me at all.

“Why did you want to come with me?”

We were nearing the mountain where the Barrow was perched. I shivered involuntarily at the snowy peaks, having had enough of them in Winterhold.

“Honestly? We sent at least a dozen people before you,” I answered, glancing at his profile. “None returned. It didn’t feel right to send you here alone after that.”

He met my eyes, steps still light and fast despite not looking at the road. “Most wouldn’t care.”

A snort escaped me, “I think they would when it’s a kid in question.”

He stopped mid-stride, pale eyes wide with indignation.

“I’m not a kid.”

“That’s exactly what a kid would say.”

Then another deranged wolf jumped us, which Axl immediately stabbed with his steel dagger and I crème brûlée-d with a firebolt.

“...Well, maybe a kid couldn’t stab a wolf like that.”

“Please stop calling me that.”

—

Making it past a bandit-infested tower on our tip-toes, we finally neared the steps of the Barrow.

We could barely see it since, you know, fucking snowstorm.

“Have I ever mentioned how much I love Skyrim’s weather!” I shouted against the violent wind, shielding my eyes with my hands. Axl didn’t seem to be doing any better, despite being a cold-resistant Nord.

“Who wouldn’t?!”

Just after he responded, an arrow lodged itself between my feet, inducing a shocked yelp from me.

A roaring woman in tattered pieces of hide armor came out of the snow-filtered air with an axe raised above her head, ready to strike.

I didn’t even think.

Throwing my hands in front of my face, I struck the woman with a lightning bolt – hitting her right in the chest.

She sprawled to the floor like a ragdoll.

Magic was truly terrifying in how it made killing so easy - and this world was horrible for making me get used to it.

Axl was swiftly taking care of another bandit, his light frame easily evading the attacks and daggers slashing the vulnerable parts. Blood spilled on the white floor, melting the snow with its heat.

That man fell quickly.

Taking care of the archer with his bow in a single shot, Axl inclined his head towards the metal doors with expressionless eyes.

At that point, I realized the kid was actually a seasoned killer.

—

Ancient Nords were dumb. They were really really fucking dumb.

The puzzles were shit, the draugr was fucking blind since they couldn’t see Axl crouching right in front of them and the bandits inside the tomb were even dumber.

Not to mention the mercenaries we’d sent here.

Half of them had died in the poison dart room, pulling the conveniently placed lever that was located at the right smack middle of the chamber. We found their bodies piled in a corner.

I almost threw up several times upon discovering several similar piles throughout the tomb.

The draugr apparently functioned as forensic cleaners too.

Then a fucking giant spider that spit fucking venom like some demented llama crawled out of nowhere.

I peed on myself a little bit.

Just.

A little.

We were fortunate enough to shoot at it from the safety of the previous room – as the fucker was too big to fit through the door.

Then an idiot Dunmer thought it was smart to swindle two people who’d saved him from a slow death inside the giant spider’s web.

He bolted away the moment we released him, shrieking how stupid we were to think he would relent the treasure to us.

He got impaled by a swinging door upon stepping on its pressure plate.

Like I said, idiot.

Solving the ‘puzzle’ of the Golden Claw door, I ceded the claw to Axl, on the accord I could sketch it. He was astonished I’d opened the door so quickly, making me sigh in exasperation.

I guess Farengar wasn’t exaggerating when he complained about the average intelligence in Skyrim.

By the time we reached what looked like the final room, I had enough of draugrs and bandits to last a lifetime.

“So, where the heck is the stone?” I glanced around the cavern, spotting a sarcophagus and a chest.

Axl was staring unblinkingly at a decorative wall, mouth slightly hanging open.

“Kid?” Approaching the unresponsive Nord worriedly, I realized the wall had very familiar markings.

It was a Wall. Capital w.

With a gasp, I immediately wrestled some parchment and charcoal out to copy the Dovahzul words down.

I’d only written the first line when a cracking sound resonated behind us.

We both slowly turned around, spooked.

A draugr rose from the sarcophagus eerily, joints creaking and clanking.

With a terrified scream, the concept of crawling out of a sarcophagus had somehow scared me more than the average sleeping draugr, I threw a firebolt at it – scorching its chest.

The draugr, in response, roared with fury while stumbling – and got interrupted when Axl shot it right in the glowy eye.

It slumped back inside the sarcophagus unceremoniously.

We stared at its skeletal legs for a second in silence, breaths labored from the sudden adrenaline. Axl let out a thin, aghast laugh.

We retrieved the Dragonstone with quaking legs and checked the chest to find an old enchanted blade and a common soul gem. It was easy to decide who got what. I also managed to copy the whole wall down onto the parchment.

Leaving the accursed tomb and its freaking undead behind, we exited through a hidden door quickly.

—

You know what I really like after returning from a day's worth of journey?

Fighting a dragon.

Yeah.

Hanson, a guard I’d healed before, was crouched amongst the rubble and was warning us to get away.

The dragon had left the watchtower in ruins and flames.

As we were scouting the area and looking for cover, the air reverberated with a distant roar.

An enormous reptile appeared out of the clouds like some misshapen angel of death, ready to collect our lives with its blazing breath.

I prayed to the Divines for the first time.

Arrows and spells dotted the sky, at best annoying the dragon and compelling it to land. I was lucky enough to cast a ward every time it swooped down to rain fire at us.

"I had forgotten what fine sport you mortals can provide!" the dragon acclaimed right after biting Hansen in half and flinging his remains to the side. I was already in way too much shock to react to his speech.

Irileth roared with wrath, her blade slicing the leather of its wings smoothly. The dragon rumbled and swung its tail to strike the Dunmer. She flew across the field, landing in a tangle of limbs.

“Irileth!”

She didn’t get up.

Axl slid beside me, eyes wide and delirious.

“Elena! I’m out of arrows!”

The guards weren’t doing any better – half fallen, half struggling to hit-and-run. The dragon couldn’t fly after Irileth had sliced its wing, yes, but it was still a tank on the ground with its sharp teeth and deadly appendages.

I scanned Axl again, remembering how sneaky and fast he could be.

“I will distract it. You need to sneak on it and stab a vulnerable part.”

Axl laughed incredulously. “It has a vulnerable part?”

“Of course it does.” I risked a quick look at the dragon, who was trying to bite a guard that had it engaged in melee. “Its eyes.”

“You want me to stab its eyes?!”

“Do you have a better idea?!”

Just then the body of the guard flew above our heads and landed a few meters away. He was missing a head. I retched. Axl exclaimed in terror.

“Can we really kill that thing?!”

The dragon laughed, clearly having fun at our demise. “Brit grah.”

“The fucker’s enjoying this,” I hissed, temper rising, and grabbed a potion of extreme Magicka out of my satchel to gulp down. “We need to take it down before it kills more. Axl!” He looked up at me, eyes wide. “You can do it. I’ll make sure it’s focused on me, you only need to be quick. Here,” I handed him a potion of strength, “drink this,” and jumped out of my cover before I could rethink it.

“Hi mey! Bo’o krif zu’u!” I shouted, hoping to attract its attention

The dragon turned to me, visibly startled at the Dovahzul. Against my expectations, it rumbled in laughter with glinting pebble-like eyes instead of getting angry.

“Joor, zu’u honaan ni Dovahtinvaak do froniil ko lingrah bok.”

Uhh.

“...Sorry, can you repeat that?”

Still purring with mirth, it approached me, bending its long neck to look me in the eye.

“You are brave. Bahlaan hokoron.”

I stumbled back, a ward spell ready in both my hands. “I’m, uh, nonvul. High praise, coming from a dragon.”

“Oblaan nonvul, then.”

It didn’t even wait for a second to spit fire. I barely managed to cast the spell, hoping it would hold long enough for Axl to do his thing.

After a few seconds of a continuous barrage of heat, the ward started to crack along with my focus on it.

“AXL!”

I barely saw a blur jumping on top of the dragon's head through the flames, which snuffed out just as a shriek of pain rose from the serpentine beast.

Axl had successfully pierced both its eyes with his daggers, hanging on for dear life as the dragon screeched and swung its head around – trying to throw the Nord off while screaming some words.

“Dovahkiin -ni!—”

Axl let out a war cry before driving the blades in deeper and twisting them. The dragon gave a final fearful shriek—

and collapsed to the ground with a heavy thud.

A beat of silence peacefully passed as Axl wrenched his daggers out and jumped down, all survivors staring at him in wonder. I squealed in joy.

“You did it!” with a cheer, I threw myself at the Nord, the rest of the watchmen quickly following suit to celebrate the victory in similar shouts and whoops. Irileth approached on clumsy legs, having woken up and chugging a potion of health. She was probably supporting a major concussion.

Our sounds of triumph suddenly changed tone and became alarmed when a weird misty aura appeared around the dragon – which Axl absorbed in a whirlwind of sound and magic. Only a skeleton remained from the serpent after the light show.

At the prompt of the guards, he also shouted an awkward ‘Fus’ in Dovahzul – I had no idea where he’d learned the word.

Following his loud and impressive demonstration of lung strength, the men dubbed him the Dragonborn, the legendary figure who could slay dragons and steal their powers.

We shared a look.

Axl’s full of dread while mine was of fatigue.

I needed a nap.

Chapter Text

“Are you returning to the College?”

“Yeah, my apprenticeship is going to finish in a few days. I was thinking of visiting Solitude before immediately returning, though.”

Axl hummed at my answer, fingers tapping on his leather bracelets.

“It’s a pity you can’t come to the High Hrothgar with me.”

I smiled sadly.

“I genuinely wish I could but the city needs my healing abilities right now.” The Temple of Kynareth couldn’t take care of all the wounded so both Farengar and I spent a lot of time there, aiding Danica and her acolytes as much as we could.

“Being a mage sounds exhausting.”

“Said the Dragonborn.”

“Hah,” the Nord huffed heavily, eyes scanning the horizon.

We were loitering at the stables, Axl’s new housecarl Lydia was respectfully standing a few meters away with a proud stance.

“How are you feeling?” I asked the new Thane of Whiterun. When I was his age, 18, my biggest concern was my exams – not fighting dragons. I couldn’t imagine what he felt like.

“Like shite,” he answered with a grimace.

“Obviously.”

“But thanks for asking.”

“Anytime,” I sighed, patting his shoulder. “Write to me and come visit me at the College, alright? I’ll worry otherwise.” He snorted.

“Sure, you old hag.” I gasped, hand on my chest in a faux-offended manner.

“Youth these days, no respect at all.” Shaking his head, Axl smiled.

“Take care, Elena.”

“You too, kid.”

—

Dear Master Mirabelle,

I’m sure you already received news about the dragons but I thought it would be best to tell you firsthand as well.

They are genuinely back, considering we killed one here in Whiterun.

It still feels surreal.

The city needs my help in healing its soldiers, so I will lengthen my stay here for a few days.

Also, don’t worry, nothing happened to me.

I’m thinking of visiting Solitude before returning to the College. It makes sense to do it now than later, as I’m closer to it while in Whiterun. After all the praise Onmund sang about the capital, I have to see it with my own eyes. I’m going to take a carriage though, I’ve had enough of walking.

Apart from Farengar’s letter of approval, I’m also sending three vials of dragon bone dust. I hope you’ll have discovered their properties by the time I’m back.

Take care of yourself and see you soon.

Best wishes,

Elena.

—

We translated the Dragonstone and deciphered the map carved on it.

Here lie our
Fallen lords
Until power of
Alduin revives

The ancient Nords had revered their serpentine slavers to the point of awaiting their return – and the translation clearly meant this ‘Alduin’ was bringing them back to life. I was even more confused when Farengar told me some Imperial scholars thought the Ancient Nords used the name 'Alduin' for Akatosh, the Dragon God of Time - who loved men enough to literally sponsor an empire, provided it was ruled by his Dragonborns.

There was so much to look into and so little time – but, alas, it was time for me to go.

I spent a whole afternoon going around saying goodbye to a great number of people – including several companions, guards, court members, citizens, and even some kids.

I hadn’t realized I’d befriended so many during my stay in Whiterun.

Not to mention people kept congratulating and thanking me for helping the Dragonborn kill a dragon.

Bit weird, since I almost died doing it.

I had particular trouble in bidding farewell to Yrsa and Tyr, especially when the dragons were threatening the folk outside the walls. I had to force them to accept several resist-fire and health potions. My heart couldn’t take it if something happened to them.

Farengar was as aloof as ever – he did however grumble about my stupidity in taking a leisure journey to Solitude. I told him I’d miss him too and he waved the comment away with a disdainful sniff.

We were going to keep corresponding to update each other on our progress in the research since I was going to have access to a greater source of knowledge – namely, the Arcanaeum.

Feeling giddy and restless, I repacked my bag with necessities and the gold I’d earned during my apprenticeship. It was liberating to be able to protect myself and travel without fear – as my confidence and abilities had grown after all the things I went through in just two months.

Finally, I was climbing Bjorlam’s carriage I’d rented with 100 gold in the early hours of the chilly morning. There were 5 other travelers along with me, kind enough to spare some friendly smiles. A married Nord couple, their infant daughter, an elderly Redguard lady who was fawning over the baby, and a steely-eyed middle-aged Imperial man called Corvus.

The travel started well and the group was good company – our safety wasn’t even in question as between Bjorlam, me, and Corvus the carriage was well-defended. Everybody had their own stories to tell, making the hours pass briskly until Rorikstead.

I also didn’t quite understand how the horse was able to pull all of us for 15 hours a day until I caught Bjorlam mixing a potion into its bucket of water.

Horse on magical steroids, apparently.

We spent the night in Rorikstead’s only inn, Frostfruit. I met the innkeeper Mralki and his son Erik, who was very excited to hear about the dragon. The settlement’s residents sharing our fire were extremely unconvinced but still entertained by the story. When I tried to insist the whole event was true, Bjorlam shook his head and prompted me to let it go. I just didn’t want anyone to be caught unaware by a murder lizard.

The following day, as the sun rose, we departed from Rorikstead with the intention of reaching Solitude a few hours after dusk.

All was going well until the Dragon Bridge.

I was half snoozing when the carriage wheels suddenly started to rattle, jolting me awake. I blinked sleepily and noticed we were on a stone bridge. It had a dragon skull bust adorning its arc.

Right, Dragon Bridge.

The carriage slowly made its way into the small village, coming to a stop in front of the inn. Bjorlam turned to look at us with a relaxed posture.

“We have a few more hours until Solitude and won’t be taking a break from here on out. You may want to relieve yourselves or get some supper.” Groaning, I got up from my seat in sync with the others. Wooden seats were harsh on the butt.

Then I noticed one of the houses was gigantic even compared to the inn. It had Imperial insignia banners in front of it along with several majestic-looking horses, awfully out of place in such a tiny settlement.

“Corvus?”

The Imperial, the only one still on the carriage with me, paused rummaging through his bags to look my way.

"What is that building?” I asked, pointing.

“The Outpost for the Penitus Oculatus.” He sighed at my blank look, “They are the Emperor’s special guards.”

“Why the heck do they have an outpost here out of all places?”

“He visits the capital sometimes because of the war. I imagine they decided to establish a headquarters near the city to protect him during those visits.”

As if hearing our conversation, the door of the outpost opened and… half a dozen Thalmor poured out.

A very familiar-looking Altmer was among them, just as striking as I remembered with his regal features.

Heart jumping in palpitations, I turned and stumbled down from the carriage with a gasp, inducing a raised brow from Corvus who glanced back at the building – only to mutter a curse of his own.

This wasn’t how I’d planned to face him -to ask him if it was him who’d switched my potions and given Colette the Magicka potions to heal me. I needed to be back in the College, not surrounded by his comrades.

They were mounting their horses, uncaring of the common people in front of the inn, and giving me ample time to sneak away.

Until.

Until a fucking roar echoed in the distance.

My heart stopped.

Unthinking, I turned to face Corvus, who’d gone pale staring at the sky.

“Corvus.” He was still looking up whereas I had grabbed my bag to fish out the only Frost Atronach scroll I had. “CORVUS.” He snapped out of it. “Tell the people to exit the inn and go hide by the mill. It’s stone, can’t be burnt.”

Nodding, he ran inside.

“It’s in the clouds!” screamed one of the few local guards scattered around. The Thalmor had stopped and were squinting up, their horses nervously stomping.

A barrage of people exited the inn to run towards the mill.

“Elena!” Bjorlam came to a halt by me, “What—”

The dragon's shadow passed over us, raising up dust with a strong beat of its wings. I pushed Bjorlam, futilely as he was twice my size, toward the Penticus Whatever-the-fuck-itus building.

“Go get the Emperor’s guards!”

He took off without question – good man understanding what I meant instantly. I looked up, the dragon was still circling around, probably checking the outlay of the village.

Was it too much to ask for stupid dragons? And not these intelligent people-lizards? Akatosh??

The Thalmor had dismounted and scattered. I barely managed to cast a ward as the dragon dove down with a rumble.

“YOOL TOR SHUL.” Fire engulfed my body but the ward held. The dragon landed on top of a Thalmor, crushing him before he could even as much as scream. I heard his skeleton crunch like a nut.

Bjorlam exited the building with a thunderous expression, running towards me. “Cowards! They are not coming!”

The dragon roared as a lightning bolt struck it.

“Forget them! DUCK!” Jumping on Bjorlam's crouched back, I cast another ward against the fire. As the flames dimmed I saw the serpent getting ready to take off again.

“NO! DON’T LET IT FLY!” Grabbing my scroll and bolting toward the beast, I invoked the magic on the parchment. A frost atronach came hulking out of the Conjuration portal.

“Attack its wings!” I shouted. The dragon, seeing the atronach approach, gave a shriek and got interrupted by an icy fist in the maw.

I scanned around hurriedly, looking for a certain High Jerk.

Just then, the dragon literally back-handed the atronach like a bitch – making it topple over before taking off.

I realized all the guards of the settlement were dead, littering the ground with an array of scorched limbs and blood.

Where the hell is that elf?!

“ELENA!?”

Arms grabbed me to push my body onto the ground as the dragon came back for another fire seance. I felt the vibrations of a ward and an arm tightening around my waist – which then pulled me up on my feet. We stumbled behind a cover. I turned my head around to look up.

Ancano was breathing heavily, golden eyes tracking the dragon before glaring down at my face. They were alight with adrenaline.

“What were you thinking, standing out in the open like that?!”

“I was looking for you,” I blurted out dumbly. His breath hitched – which I could feel since his front was completely plastered to my back in our crouched position – before a snarl appeared on his lips.

“Foolish girl, Recall to the College now!”

The dragon heavily landed on the ground once more, rumbling and looking for prey. I scowled, feeling irked he would try to command me in such a situation.

“I’m not leaving when there are people in danger!”

The flames danced around the rock formation we were hiding behind – the lizard had heard us. Ancano muttered something in presumably High Elven before casting Ironflesh on himself. I stared as his skin turned metallic.

“Stay. Here,” he breathed forcefully, arm squeezing my waist once more. Then he promptly jumped out of the cover, ignoring my hands grabbing at his robes.

“Ancano!”

He started slinging Ice Spikes at the dragon, lightning and fire escorting his attacks from random places around the settlement – making me realize The Thalmor were attacking from cover, without giving away their exact positions.

My cheeks burned in embarrassment as something dawned on me – Ancano had probably forsaken his cover to pull me to safety.

I glanced back up. The Altmer was being assisted by my Atronach in mauling the dragon. It was bleeding profusely from several gashes and looked far too exhausted to fly again. Despite that, it managed to bite the Atronach by the head, its teeth cracking the ice

The atronach collapsed with a crunch, disappearing back into the Oblivion.

Ancano’s skin was losing its metallic glint and I knew he’d exhausted his pool too much to recast the spell. I had to help him.

Calling frost onto my palm, I focused on drawing what was an enormous amount of Magicka for me. Ancano howled in pain, making my blood freeze.

I stumbled to my feet, magic unsteady and about to explode in my face. I had never cast anything so strong without a scroll before.

But it was now or never.

“Hey! Come fight someone your own size, dickhead!”

The dragon turned to me with a snarl, all look of intelligence having abandoned the beast long ago.

Ancano was wheezing beneath its wing, his hands clawing at the scaly hide as he looked at me with wide eyes – trying to speak but unable to. I forced myself to ignore the scene, resisting the urge to scream at the dragon to let him go.

“What? Out of breath, you oversized lizard?!”

Growling menacingly, it stepped off the Altmer and fully turned to face me. I heard Ancano gasp and cough before the dragon raised its head – up and up, until my neck strained to keep looking up at its eyes.

“YOOL”

The spell vibrated between my fingers, begging to be released.

“TOR”

Ready.

“SHUL–”

GO.

I flung my hand out, the Icy Spear bursting smoothly from my palm just as flames sparked at the back of the dragon’s throat.

The spear lodged firmly in its mouth, piercing through the back of its head.

The dragon froze for a perfect second, the whites of its eyes glistening in shock, its maw twitching.

My pulse thumped in my ears.

It collapsed to the ground – body and wings sprawling out like a lifeless puppet.

I couldn’t believe the plan had worked.

“E-Elena–” a voice called weakly.

“Ancano!” Bolting around the carcass and diving a hand into my satchel, I slid on the ground and knelt beside the Altmer with a Magicka potion. Supporting his head with one hand, I encouraged him to gulp the liquid down. I knew he could heal himself much better than I ever could – and just as predicted, his hands rose to rest on his ribs with a grunt.

Healing light illuminated both our faces, bathing his abdomen in a golden glow.

“You–” he wheezed, ribs still crushed.

“Don’t spe–”

“You need to leave,” he bit out, looking up at me with furrowed brows. I frowned. Footsteps were approaching us along with raised voices.

“You’re hurt. I’m not leaving,” I answered, feeling thrown by his hot-n-cold treatment. He groaned, whether in pain or annoyance, I couldn't tell.

“Stupid girl.” Grabbing my hand, the Altmer pulled me closer with surprising strength. I yelped as my face approached his. “I know you’re hiding something,” he murmured, voice much more clear now. I stilled. “You just slayed a dragon and my colleagues saw everything. They are going to get interested.” The last word was hissed, sending a shiver through me. “I’m not allowing that to happen. Recall, now.”

“Sir, who–” an elegant voice started behind me.

“GO,” snarled Ancano, pushing me away.

And I was gone.

—

I gasped and opened my eyes to the blue glow of the Hall of Countenance, still kneeling on the ground.

“Elena!?” I hadn’t gotten my bearings yet when a certain Dunmer glomped on me. I hugged her back haltingly.

“B-Brelyna–”

“What happened to you?! Why are you,” she delicately sniffed my hood “...singed?”

“Long story,” I managed. “For short? Dragon attack – again.”

“Again?” Asked the Dunmer, voice thin.

“Mirabelle didn’t tell you?”

“Didn’t tell me what?” I lightly pushed her away to look her in the eyes. There was only bewilderment in them.

“...I guess not,” I murmured, brows furrowed. “Did J’zargo and Onmund return?”

Brelyna gave me a look for changing the subject but allowed it anyways.

“No, only I did – yesterday. I was reading and waiting for you.” Just as she said that, Onmund appeared with a swoosh of a portal – standing tall and expression dazed. Brelyna and I squealed like teenagers, the dragon business immediately forgotten.

“Onmund!” and promptly jumped on him, startling a laugh out of the Nord.

“Elena! Brelyna!” He hugged both of us at once, familiar and brother-like as usual.

“Look at you!” I exclaimed, scanning his features and robes. He’d gotten new, flashier ones that accentuated his wide shoulders with a clean and fitting look. And best of all, there was a happy glow to him. “What happened in that city? Was the plumbing that good?”

Onmund coughed at my last sentence, face turning red.

I blinked at the reaction, puzzled – a sentiment reflected on Brelyna’s visage. Then I gasped.

No.

Way.

“Who?” I demanded, face lighting with glee. Brelyna was looking between us, a shit-eating grin slowly forming on her lips as well. Onmund was vehemently shaking his head, eyes on the ceiling. “Tell me!”

“No one–”

“LIES!”

“I mean– it wasn’t– that is…”

Brelyna groaned, slapping his shoulder.

“Out with it!”

“Aicantar!” shouted the Nord, face completely flushed.

…

“Who is that?”

Onmund sighed, unshouldering his bag and plopping down on one of the wooden benches.

hoLD UP.

My bag.

My bag was still in the carriage. With all my research papers and money. And necessities.

Fuck.

“Master Calcelmo’s nephew.” Shaking off the bag separation anxiety for the moment, I stared at Onmund with wide eyes.

A snort escaped my mouth. Brelyna had clamped a hand on her own, shoulders shaking.

“...Your teacher’s nephew seduced you?” I asked, voice high.

Onmund, who blushed even at the slightest mention of sex, getting it on with his master’s nephew?

Wow.

“Actually… it was the other way around.”

“Gods be praised!” I exclaimed, hands raised to the skies and imitating Heimskr.

Brelyna burst into loud laughter whereas Onmund squirmed in his seat, groaning and covering his face with his hands. I laughed at his reaction, patting his shoulder.

“Joking, joking. I’m glad that you found someone who clearly makes you happy.” Onmund glanced up at me, hands falling to rest on his knees. There was that classic soft smile of his.

“Thank you, Elena.” Then he frowned, looking me over, “But – why do you look like you stumbled inside a bonfire?” I laughed again – nervously this time.

“Yeah, about that–” Another sound of portal resonated, interrupting my sentence like a serrated blade. J’zargo’s distinct form appeared inside the oval shape – but there was something wrong with his posture.

He completely materialized in front of us with bloodied robes, slouched, and ears folded back.

“J’zargo?”

He buckled down to the floor, knees painfully hitting the stone surface.

“J’zargo!” Lunging forward, Brelyna grabbed the Khajiit before he could fall on his face.

“Vampires,” he hissed, hand weakly supporting a bleeding gash on his side. His eyes looked unfocused. “Vampires attacked the hall…”

Body suddenly sagging in Brelyna's trembling hold, he passed out. Onmund helped her lay him down on the floor, face twisted with worry.

“I’m getting the masters!” I shouted, bolting down the stairs.

“Colette’s at the Arcanaeum!” screamed Brelyna after me, the twinkling sounds of the healing spell following her words

First dragons, now vampires?

What the heck was happening?

—

“Vampiric Drain,” explained Master Colette as she rejuvenated J’zargo back to life. “It’s a vampire spell. Steals the target’s life force and feeds it to the caster. It’s also one of the few ways to contract Sanguinare Vampiris.” With a hand smoothing the fur on the Khajiit’s forehead, Colette pushed one of his eyelids open.

His eye had a red sheen on it.

I gasped, Brelyna and Onmund echoing the reaction.

“Don’t worry, I already administrated the Cure Disease potion. He just needs to heal properly to have everything out of his system.”

“...And the Vigilants?” I asked tentatively, glancing at unconscious J’zargo with worried eyes. “Shouldn’t we check on them?”

“There is no point,” said a voice behind me. We all turned around to see Savos standing with his hands at his back, eying us pensively. “The hall is days away in distance, waiting for J’zargo to answer our questions is the smarter thing to do. Putting that aside,” he turned to me, brows raised.

“What is this mess about dragons?”

I sighed.

So much for a happy reunion.

—

J’zargo woke up the next day, grieving and silent. According to him, the Hall of the Vigilant had been ransacked beyond repair, with its residents long dead. The only reason he was alive was that his Mark location had been the College - not the hall like the Vigilants'.

An air of solemnity hung on everybody’s heads, faces grim with all the bad news of the war, dragons, and vampires. We tried our best to distract J’zargo, who wandered around like some specter with haunted eyes for quite a while.

I also had time to organize my thoughts on, well, everything – Ancano being the primary subject.

I know you’re hiding something, he’d whispered.

But not what I was hiding.

His words and actions contradicted each other. After forcefully interrogating all the staff, I was certaiin it had been him with the potions as well.

What was his end game? Other than keeping me on the edge constantly?

Another issue I had to deal with was coming clean with Brelyna, J’zargo and Onmund. I talked with Mirabelle about revealing my origins to them, seeking assurance. She smiled in response and told me to trust my gut.

So I told them.

“That’s… wow,” said Brelyna extremely unconvincingly after my long uninterrupted monologue.

I blinked at the lack of reaction. Onmund and J’zargo were staring at me, faces a little sheepish.

“You took this better than I thought you would.” There were no exclamations or interrogations. No one accused me of lying or trickery. I was confused.

“We knew you weren’t from… around here,” Onmund answered from his seat at the dining bench where I’d sat them down to have a talk.

“What.” My tone was dry.

“You talk in your sleep–”

I slapped a hand to my forehead. “Oh my god–”

“And say that – or those other weird things only to freeze afterward.” Continued Brelyna without missing a beat.

“Merde,” cursed J’zargo in French, making me stare at him – aghast.

“You lack common knowledge.”

“Your handwriting is… interesting.”

“Weird accent.”

“The songs you sing when drunk.”

“Too squeamish and clean.”

“Obsessed with waxing–”

“ALRIGHT. Alright, I get it. Thank you.” Clearing my throat and sending Brelyna a glare for mentioning the last part, I rubbed my face in disbelief, “So, you’re fine with this?”

They glanced at each other.

“Why wouldn’t we be?” answered Onmund.

“I… lied? About a lot of things? And I’m literally from another world?”

“You are still Elena,” said J’zargo simply, before pausing. “...That is your name, yes?”

I laughed, a little manic, nodding.

“Yeah, Elena Noyer, to be exact.” I breathed for a few seconds, all the weight dissolving from my chest, before bursting into uncontrollable tears. Brelyna immediately threw an arm around my shoulders and pulled me close across the bench.

“S-sorry, I don’t– don’t know why…” Tears were just streaming down my cheeks, despite the wobbly smile I was wearing. There were so many mixed feelings of relief, love, and sadness.

“Don’t you apologize,” tutted the Dunmer, wiping my tears away with her hands to no avail. “I can’t imagine how difficult it must have been for you.”

J’zargo conjured some ice inside a goblet – melting it before handing the lukewarm liquid to me.

“J’zargo thinks you are strong,” he eyed my blotchy face as I sipped from the goblet with a soft ‘thank you’. “J’zargo would have gone insane having only Savos and Mirabelle as confidants.” That prompted a startled laugh from all of us – with me almost choking on my mouthful.

“Thank you for trusting us,” Onmund added, grinning warmly. “—and your secret will be safe, have no worry.”

“No, thank you,” sniffing, I gazed at their faces. “For being such great friends and trustworthy people. I honestly can’t believe how lucky I was to meet you.”

J’zargo rolled his eyes skywards, contradicting the purr rising from his larynx. “And then there is that.”

“What?” I asked, confused. Brelyna chuckled with a bashful expression.

“You say such touching things with absolute conviction all the time – while having no idea about the effect they have on people.”

“It’s very charming,” offered Onmund. “Makes me wonder what kind of life you led to be so open with your emotions.”

Therapy, probably.

“I can tell you about it if you’d like.”

“...We are not letting you leave this room until you do, Elena.”

“Right. Obviously.”

—

Days passed, and I felt a great weight lift from my shoulders. It took some time to satisfy their curiosity, and each explanation sparked more debate about cultures, races, and religions.

Suffice it to say, we had no shortage of subjects to discuss.

The revelation improved my mental health as well.

I stopped constantly watching my words when I was alone with the apprentices. The dorm became a safe place with people who knew me.

At least it had, until Ancano made it back – which had taken him two whole weeks to do.

I’d returned from the lecture hall to the dorm, tired after working on Fire Atronach summoning with Master Phinis. They were really mischievous, twisting commands to suit their whims.

J’zargo and Brelyna had gone to the inn to grab some drinks while Onmund was in the Arcanaeum, looking some stuff up on the Dwemer at Aicantar’s request.

They had this adorable long-distance relationship going on, I loved it.

I walked inside my room, yawning – only to freeze upon seeing the Altmer lounging on my chair. He was staring at me. Excitement and relief fluttered in my stomach.

He rose up elegantly without any sign of broken ribs and walked up to me. I could feel my pulse jumping, blood rushing to my head.

Stopping a meter away, he scanned me from head to toe.

“You look well,” he said matter-of-factly.

“You… too – I mean, less injured,” I gestured at his abdomen meekly. He didn’t respond. The silence was awkward. I cleared my throat.

“Was there something you wanted?”

Ancano, seeming to snap out of whatever he was thinking, pursed his lips and glanced at my desk. I followed his gaze instinctively.

My travel bag!

Gasping with joy, I grabbed the ratty object to hug against my chest.

It was just as heavy and bulky as I remembered!

“You brought it back with you?!”

He was watching me with a raised brow, expression entertained. “No, it grew legs and walked here.” He sighed at my glare, “Yes, woman, I brought it back. Not that it had been easy to have that coachman acquiesce it,” and grumbled with an irked tone, “one wonders why he was so protective.”

I had already opened the bag to lay its contents out on the bed, half listening to his words.

I paused to stare at him, perplexed.

“Coachman? Protective?”

He sniffed, eyeing the papers and the books I’d unpacked, “Some Nord named Bjor or the like–”

“Bjorlam?”

“Yes,” answered the Altmer through clenched teeth, “Him. I had to give my word to a peasant of all people to retrieve that,” -he gestured at my bag, grimacing- “thing you call a bag.”

I snorted.

“Yes, your highness, thank you for bringing my thing back to me.” I took a second, glancing at the Altmer.

He looked constipated.

“I appreciate it,” I amended, releasing the bag and turning to face him properly. “Really. I was quite sad to have lost it.”

He granted me a stiff nod.

“You’re welcome. Now, I have matters to attend to.” He moved to exit the room. Panicking, I grabbed the back of his robes. He jolted at my touch, turning to look at me with wide eyes.

“Wait! I need to ask you something!” Not giving him a chance to react, I continued hastily, “Was it you who gave me those potions?” Ancano stared at me, gaze quickly turning blank.

“What potions?” he drawled, voice dripping with ennui. I sputtered.

“The ones in my bag! And – and Colette’s Magicka potions!”

Rolling his eyes and smirking meanly, he sharply tugged his robes out of my grasp.

“I couldn’t care less about this potion delusion of yours. I have far more important things to concern myself with.” Annoyance was building up in my skull. Throwing my hands in the air, I exclaimed in exasperation.

“Would it kill you to admit it?!”

He turned around, completely ignoring me.

“Ancano!”

The doors banged loudly as he left.

—

Our previous cat-and-mouse game resumed after a long break - except this time, the roles were reversed.

He was doing his absolute best to evade and alienate me with barbed words and cold shoulders.

The worst part? It was working.

Especially when my feelings regarding him had taken a 180-degree turn.

I had deciphered how the Altmer ticked after he’d revealed the key to me in Dragon Bridge.

The insults were a disguise for his concern – like a magician grabbing your attention with one hand to do tricks with the other.

He’d called me a ‘stupid girl’ during the dragon attack, only to shield me with his body – had mocked my fatal injury at the hands of a draugr yet also given Colette the means to save me.

He cared, but loathed showing it.

This realization pushed me harder to make him give up on that weird pretense of his.

Regardless, my every attempt to reach him filled me with more and more bitterness especially when the only non-master he spent time with was Nirya.

As the frequency I caught them together increased, so did my misery.

Eventually, Brelyna implored me to forget the whole thing – worried it would only get worse for me.

I agreed, bitter and wondering why I was wasting time on such a capricious person who clearly had no problem with treating me like–

nothing.

So I gave up.

Whenever I intruded upon him and Nirya talking pleasantly, I left the room – ignored his presence and walked past him in the halls.

Brelyna was right.

It was best to nip any feelings of that in the bud – even if it bled to do so.

—

Axl appeared at the College doors in Last Seed, donned in some weird black leather armor with a cape.

I burst into laughter upon seeing the Dragonborn standing there in that getup – and even more when he removed his mask and hood to reveal a horrible bed hair.

We’d kept sending letters to each other; me giving him updates on the research while him assuring me he was alive. It was not a regular correspondence since he never stayed in one location long – so I had no idea he was coming to see me.

Rolling his eyes and giving a smile, he greeted me with a soft ‘old hag’.

He’d matured a lot in four months.

“Not that I’m complaining but – what are you doing here?”

I’d invited him inside but he’d declined, saying he was in a hurry.

“I need your help.”

“Alright.” Nodding, I raised an inquisitive brow, “What is it?”

“I need to infiltrate the Thalmor Embassy. You’re the only one I can trust to help me.”

“...You’re gonna owe me a lot for this.”

Chapter Text

Axl summed everything up very simply.

“We think the Thalmor may have something to do with the dragons.”

“We?”

“I’m working with an undercover Blade.”

“Holy shit, Axl.”

“...I’m not sure what that means, but yes.”

Only managing a hasty goodbye to an alarmed Mirabelle and irritated J’zargo who would have to tell the others about my departure, I packed a bag to join Axl at the city entrance. He was waiting with a beautiful spotted mare called ‘Horse’.

“Real creative, kid,” I said once seated behind him. He scoffed, urging the beast into a trot.

My butt hurts.

“I had more important things to deal with than thinking of a name for a horse.”

I banged my forehead against his back and tugged on his ridiculous cape. The Nord yelped, exclaiming “Hey!”.

“Let’s think one now!” I exclaimed. No response. “Axl?”

“...It’s fine,” he muttered after a second, voice low, “there’s no point when she won’t survive for long, being with me.”

I couldn’t say anything after that.

It had been clear from the start that Axl was apprehensive about letting people in.  I’d tried to break through his walls with our letters but one-sided affection had become awkward after a while.

He was gradually opening up but I still didn’t know why he was so aloof – which made it harder to understand his boundaries.

I opened the subject at our camp.

“Can I ask some intrusive questions?”

He was poking the fire with a stick, languid and full after the dinner he’d caught for us. My words had him pausing.

“Depends on the question,” the answer had been apprehensive but the Nord was relaxed enough still, “what do you want to know?”

I stared at the flames, mind in turmoil over what to ask. I settled on something I’d been wondering about for a while.

“Why were you at Helgen?”

Snorting dryly, Axl tossed the stick into the fire. It crackled loudly with a pop. “That’s really intrusive.”

I shrugged, glancing at him, “I don’t know much about you. I was curious.”

“...Fair enough,” he said. “You deserve to know after everything.” Pausing for a second, he scratched his head sheepishly.

“I don’t know where to start.”

“Start from the beginning. We have time.”

Nodding at my answer for a second, Axl cleared his throat.

“I was a Stormcloak soldier.”

I choked.

He handed me a waterskin without pausing, unfazed by my coughing episode.

“I was young when I lost my parents – and nearly my life – to Blood Rot.”

I blinked up with teary eyes, still coughing and overwhelmed by all the info.

I didn’t mean the literal beginning.

“I recovered from the disease but it left me bedridden. My older brother, Arne, had to raise me. It wasn’t easy for him, having to care for a sickly child while making a living.”

“He was also a devout worshipper of Talos – like our parents had been. I never cared much for the gods, especially after a disease took so much from us. Arne never pressured me about it though, saying everyone’s faith was between them and their gods,” a melancholic smile tugged on his pale lips, gaze distant. “He was both a good brother and a father to me.”

“We lived in the Falkreath Hold, away from the city in a small shack – for Arne to keep his worship hidden. I miraculously got better when I was eleven, old enough to help my brother out. We were hunters, catching game and selling meat and hide for coin. That’s how I learned to use the bow,” he gave a nod to the unstrung black bow resting by his side.

“Arne eventually fell in love and got married to Daga, a farmer’s daughter. They had my nephew, Kell, a year later.”

“Daga was kind,” the Nord said softly, “and never hesitated to act motherly with me – even after Kell came along. He was a calm one, and very attached to me. Arne was quite disgruntled when Kell’s first word turned out to be ‘Axie’. ”

“They both brought so much life to the shack,” his words were affectionate but his eyes turned dead. My heart lurched, sensing where this was going.

“I still don’t know how—” He took a breath. “The Thalmor found out about the shrine in the basement.”

My hands flew to my mouth. No.

“I came back from my hunt to find Arne and Daga hanging from the ceiling and little Kell charred in the chimney.”

I stared at the Nord, horrified. He was looking down at his palms.

“His tiny body was still warm from the flames,” whispered the Dragonborn, transfixed by his soot-black gloves.

The forest fell into a suffocating silence, mute in the face of such barbarity.

“I don't remember how,” he said quitely. ”I somehow tracked the bastards down and put an arrow through their skulls,” a grim chuckle, “I still regret making it so fast.”

“Knowing they would send someone after me, I ran off to join the Stormcloaks – for both protection and revenge.”

“That was a year ago. I can’t even remember how many I’ve killed for Ulfric while convincing myself I was doing it for my murdered family.” He looked up at me, mouth in a wry twist, “Would you like to know what’s really funny? I only killed Imperials the whole time.” Shaking his head, he grinned wolfishly. It was filled with hatred - for himself. I could only gaze back in silence, feeling sick.

He’d gone through all this.

He was seventeen.

“I ignored that,” he continued, “deciding instead to believe I was doing something my brother would have approved of – even when I started noticing some… things,” he hesitated for a second before continuing apprehensively.

“It reached a point where I couldn’t justify ignoring them anymore. My side wasn’t good or honorable – and Arne would be disgusted by the things that they— …that we were doing.”

“So, I started to think of just – leaving. But my squad was ambushed before I could. They brought us to Helgen for execution,” he gestured vaguely with his hand, “and that’s why I was there.”

What could I even say? What could anyone possibly say?

“I… I’m sorry,” I managed, still numb.

“It’s alright.”

It wasn’t. But he was probably used to pretending it was.

“I can’t imagine this is easy,” I said lamely. He raised a brow at my vague words, confused. ”Going to the Embassy, I mean. After what the Thalmor… did to your family.”

“...Honestly?” A pause, then a grimace. “It would have been much harder before.”

“What do you mean?”

“...The things I mentioned,” he replied, eyes flickering away from mine, “I saw what war turns people into. I heard soldiers boasting about how many elves they’d killed – not even Thalmor, just elves. Random innocents got caught in the crossfire but no one cared because they weren’t Nords.”

I remembered the three men that had jumped me, wondering for a flittering second if Axl knew them.

“ What happened to my family… happened to other people,” he said, as if reading my mind, “and it was us that did it this time - the Stormcloaks.”

“That made me realize that the Thalmor had to have soldiers like me, people who saw the wrongdoings but ignored them for the cause – or, knowing how the Thalmor punishes their own, had to ignore them to stay alive.”

Axl stared at his palms contemplatively as I mulled over the points he’d just made, surprised I’d never thought of them before. He continued.

“So, I... I try to see the low lifes that murdered my family apart from the other Thalmor – like they were elves who happened to be Thalmor. I can somewhat handle my hatred that way. But it’s not always easy,” a shrug, “thinking like that I mean – especially when all the Thalmor I’ve met so far have been irredeemable bastards.”

“...That’s really mature of you,” I replied, genuinely amazed he’d managed to reach such a healthy state of mind all by himself.

“Thanks,” smiled Axl bashfully before peering at me through squinted eyes, “...Is it mature enough for you to stop calling me a kid?” That startled a loud laugh out of me before I bit back ferociously.

“Never.”

He chuckled at my answer.

We sat in silence for a moment, levity fading.

“...You really don’t care?” he asked quietly.

I stared at his sunken face and pale eyes. He looked right back.

Did I look like this when I was in his place? Revealing my past?

“I don’t,” I answered simply, remembering J'zargo's words to me, “you’re still Axl, the kid who never combs his hair and calls me an ‘old hag’.” It was he who laughed this time.

The next day, Axl let me name the horse.

Then tried to retract the offer when I named her Mudcrab.

—

Malborn was one of the most aggravating people I’d ever met – but I decided to ignore it since the guy was risking his life to sneak us in.

Until he eyed me with reconsideration and made the following observation.

“You’ll do well. A lot of Thalmor have this obsession with small humans – I think it’s got to do with their domination tendencies.”

I threw a horrified glance at Axl, who looked just as disgusted as me.

“Wait, wait, is this how I’m supposed to distract them? I’m gonna be a prostitute?”

“It’s a party, not an orgy,” he stated without blinking an eye. “You’ll be a serving wench. Just trip over someone and land on their crotch or something.”

I gaped, astonished by the flippancy. “Sure. Or something.”

We hatched our plan. Malborn would bring me inside along with him as staff whereas Axl would arrive as a guest. Then, I would do something to attract all the eyes for a few precious seconds – allowing Axl to sneak through the backdoor.

“Don’t slouch and for the love of Auri-El, get some proper sleep,” groused the Bosmer, inspecting the Nord in distaste. “The eyebags aren’t doing you any favors.”

Fucking hell.

We were ready the next day before dawn, waiting for Malborn to come get me from our room inside the Solitude’s inn.

“You look ridiculous,” I mused, scanning the Nord from head to toe. He looked like a child wearing his father’s clothes. The fur cloak was extra cringe.

He frowned, squinting at my cleavage and bare arms, revealed as they were by the dress I had on. It was provocative by Skyrim standards and Malborn even had me put on some make-up – namely, kohl and rouge.

I was feeling a little defenseless after having worn only enchanted robes for so long.

“I would say the same – but honestly?” Axl drawled, grinning, “You look exactly what you were supposed to look like.”

“...That’s not the compliment you think it is, asshole.”

He sniggered, ignoring my slap to his arm.

“If you’re done messing around?” Malborn was standing by the door, arms crossed and face annoyed.

Axl and I shared a look.

—

It had been easier than I thought.

The guards standing by the doors hadn’t even blinked at me, easily accepting Malborn’s excuse about an additional servant and letting us in. The Bosmer did press a pouch to one of their palms surreptitiously as we entered, though.

Not all Thalmor were loyal, it seemed.

Glancing around while rubbing some silverware with a cloth, I observed the fancy room. It was still empty except for the guards and the staff.

Brelas, the other wench, stood on the opposite side of the table – mirroring my actions with her own set of plates.

“Are you nervous?” asked the female Bosmer idly. I jumped, not expecting the small talk.

“N-no. Why would I be?”

She shrugged. “It’s a Thalmor party, even the smallest mistake can lead to horrible consequences.” Lovely.

“Why are you here, then?” I asked. She blinked at me.

“Probably the same reason as you. It pays well.”

Humming a strangled affirmative, I threw a subtle glance at Malborn. He was at the bar, arranging beautiful crystal glasses in a row.

I hoped he had been able to smuggle Axl’s stuff in.

Just when I managed to calm my nerves, a striking Thalmor lady strolled inside. She was attractive in a sharp, no-nonsense way. All the guards straightened up.

“Madame Ambassador,” whispered Brelas upon noticing my bafflement.

Oh shit.

Heart suddenly racing at 200 km per hour, I swiftly returned to my polishing with a bowed head but, of course, couldn’t escape the notice of the shrewd mer.

Black boots embellished with golden lines entered my field of view, stopping half a meter away.

“Who might you be?”

Peeking up beneath my lashes, I saw Elenwen gazing down at me – face void of hostility. I tried to relax.

“Lady Elenwen.” Doing what probably could barely pass as a curtsy – one of the guards had snorted coughed –, I smiled up uncertainly.

With soft blinks and rouged lips pursed, she took a long deliberate look down my body. It took every bit of my power to not glance at Malborn in terror.

A gloved hand suddenly reached out to twirl the end of my hair, making me flinch. Elenwen chuckled at my reaction.

“That’s not the answer to my question, is it?”

Licking my lips - they’d gone dry from fear - I nodded stiffly. Her eyes had followed the motion of my tongue.

I realized with a jolt that Elenwen was one of those Thalmor Malborn had mentioned – the ones obsessed with small humans.

“I’m sorry, m’lady,” I answered, smiling nervously. “My name is Thea, the second serving girl for the party.”

Elenwen hummed, delicately pinching my chin to nudge my head. I shivered in fear as she inspected me like some cattle, turning my face this and that way.

Taking the opportunity, I risked a quick glance at Malborn, who was very deliberately not looking my way.

Asshole.

Finally releasing me and stepping away with a pleased expression, Elenwen opened her mouth to say something—

“Madame Ambassador!” only to be cut off by a boisterous, sing-song voice.

The Altmer’s face instantly soured in ire, before smoothing out neutrally.

It was like watching a chameleon change colors.

“Razelan,” greeted Elenwen as she turned around swiftly, tone diplomatic. “It’s… a pleasure to have you attending this evening.”

The Redguard laughed merrily, the sarcasm going way over his head.

“It’s mine when there is such pleasant company – and drinks, of course!” He followed the exclamation with chortles. It sounded like he’d already drunk before arriving.

Fortunately, some other guests arrived right at that moment, drawing Elenwen’s attention and freeing me from it. A sigh of relief escaped my chest as she walked away to play the host.

I busied myself with handing out drinks and planning a distraction while watching the room gradually fill with more people and music. Several scenarios played out in my mind.

Telekinesis a chandelier?

Paralysis a guest?

Frenzy a guard?

Axl entered the salon, cutting my reverie short. He looked terribly out of place with his lackluster pallor compared to the burly Jarls and elegant diplomats.

His only saving grace was his calmness as Elenwen swooped down on him like some polite horror.

I could barely hear what they were talking about from my corner but Axl seemed calm enough. Luckily, Malborn jumped to divert Elenwen’s attention away.

Axl walked around the room, making conversation and blending in as planned. Soon, he would ask for a Cyrodilic brandy from me as a sign before moving closer to the bar. Then I would do my thing and he would sneak in.

Voila, easy as pie

Finally deciding on casting a covert paralysis on Razelan, I moved to stand by the pillars, waiting for Axl to approach while ignoring Thane Erikur’s leering gaze. He shifted his focus to Brelas instead.

Sorry.

Axl came to a stop by me, sighing dramatically. “A Cyrodilic brandy.”

“Of course, sir. Right away.” With a silver tray in hand, I made my way to the bar where Malborn was watching me like a hawk. “Cyrodilic brandy for the good sir.” My finger tapped the tray twice to signal the Bosmer, who glanced behind me before filling a goblet up.

“Here.”

I placed it on the tray to move back

“Your drink is ready, sir.”

Axl took the goblet from my hand with a haughty nod and light sniff before walking away idly. I had to fight the urge to laugh at his theatrics.

Suddenly Elenwen’s voice resonated, high with surprise, “Ondolemar, Ancano, what a pleasure.”

I froze before glancing at the entryway with wide eyes.

What was with this elf and horrible timing?!

The Ambassador was at the doorway, greeting the new guests. I turned around to hide my face as Ancano’s eyes scanned the room in disinterest.

“Thea,” called Elenwen, startling me. “Two Firebrand wines.”

I had the worst luck available to mankind.

Covertly turning my head away while walking up to the bar once again, I tried to think of what to do.

If Ancano were to blow my cover, it would be over for Axl as the whole Embassy would likely go high alert.

Not to mention Malborn was risking his neck for this plan.

“What’s wrong with you?” hissed the Bosmer as he quickly poured the drinks. I probably looked like I’d seen a ghost.

Might as well.

“Nothing.” Arranging the goblets once again on the tray, I breathed in and out slowly before whispering, “Nothing. Don’t worry, I’ve got it.”

The trio had moved further inside the room, making conversation. Ancano still hadn’t noticed me.

It felt like I was walking to my death, getting closer and closer to my destination with increasing dread. I came to a stop at Elenwen’s elbow, adamantly refusing to look up at anyone’s face.

“Ah, there you are,” said the Altmer, gesturing toward the two new arrivals, “Go on.”

I grabbed the first goblet to present it to On-something-mar with a meek ‘sir’ and downcast eyes.

This was humiliating beyond belief.

He took it from me with an appreciative hum. I grabbed the other one to offer it up to the next Thalmor with a repeating ‘sir’.

He didn’t take it.

I slowly raised my eyes to look at his face.

Ancano was staring down at me, face void of any expression. Except for his eyes.

Those were baffled.

“Sir,” I repeated, voice bordering on rude, before holding the drink up higher.

C’mon, asshole. Just take it and shut your trap.

Completely ignoring my subtle cues, he opened his mouth, brows furrowing.

“What–”

Alarms blared in my brain.

I HAVE TO—

HAVE TO STOP. STOP HIM. I—

I threw the drink down on his robes.

…

The whole room had fallen death-silent.

Everyone was staring at us, mouths agape and horrified.

Ancano was looking down at his dripping robes, shocked.

To be honest, I was staring at what I’d done with a similar expression.

That’s a distraction alright.

“What– you– what is the meaning of this?!” Elenwen grabbed my elbow to wrench me to the side like I weighed nothing. The silver tray and goblet fell to the floor with a loud clatter, accompanying my pained yelp.

“Guards! Take her away!” Oh shit.

The armored guards approached but Ancano snatched my wrist before I could panic and pulled me away from Elenwen sharply.

“No need,” the Altmer spat out, face thunderous. “I will handle her myself.” He didn’t wait for a response before storming to exit the room through a side door with me stumbling behind him.

I only caught a glimpse of Malborn’s alarmed face and managed to shake my head.

Stay away—

Ancano pulled me inside a hall where two Thalmor guards stared at us in intrigue. Climbing some stairs, we arrived on another floor. Before I could think of anything to say, I was shoved into a room.

He slammed the door behind us.

“You really need to stop locking people inside with you,” I muttered, rubbing my abused wrist and casting a look around. A well-decorated bedroom, utterly boring and Thalmor in all its glory with the exception of table filled with ingredients.

Ancano took a threatening step toward me.

“What are you doing here?”

I smiled sweetly and looked at him from beneath my lashes. His breath caught. It was probably the first time he saw me in make-up and clothes other than some ratty robes.

“Why, dear Advisor, I decided a change in profession was in order. I've found my calling in serving drinks and attending parties.”

He was still eying me, so I cocked my hip and crossed my arms under my chest. The dress was very flattering. Based on how his nostrils were flaring, Ancano obviously thought so as well.

Huh.

Interesting.

I started wandering around the room, chin held high and steps slow. His gloved fists flexed.

“How did you get in?” he managed to rasp out, completely ignoring my previous answer. If the voice went right into my gut, well, no one had to know.

Approaching the table laid out with expensive alchemy ingredients – holy shit, is that a Daedra heart – I shrugged.

“Easily. Looks like you aren’t the only Altmer who has a thing for,” my hands rose to mockingly mimic air quotes, “little Bretons.”

I expected him to huff and puff and deny my words. What I didn't expect was the sudden snarl before I was slammed against the table. Several ingredients and potions went crashing to the floor.

“SERIOUSLY?!” I barely had time to mourn the spilled void salts before Ancano’s arms wound tightly around me. A hand snook behind my scalp to clutch the locks of hair tightly.

I gasped.

“Whore,” he sneered in my ear.

My knees went weak. Heat bloomed. My whole body flushed with arousal in seconds.

What the hell is going on?

“W-what?”

He was plastered against my back, chest to hips, I could feel him hardening against the small of my back. My palms smacked down the table as he pushed me further, grinding against me.

This was so filthy, why was I so into it – why is my underwear soaking—

“You’ve bewitched me. You are everywhere.”

I knew his fingers were bruising the skin of my waist. The words, the sensations, it was both too much and also not nearly enough.

“A-Ancano—”

“I should’ve known you – you…”

I wanted to know what he was going to say. But he only hissed between his teeth before redoubling his efforts of grinding against my body, cheek pressed to my temple. I inhaled sharply at the skin-to-skin contact, my heart pounding.

I wanted to see his face. I needed to see his face. What was he feeling, why was he doing this?

He only groaned at my attempts to turn around before tightening his arms, hand gripping the strands of my scalp harder. My feet were off the ground at this point, my body halfway up the table.

I am NOT letting him evade me again.

Bending my head up at a neck-breaking angle, I grazed his jaw with my nose to meet his flushed face. He flinched before his wide eyes roved over my visage. He looked ruined. I must have been the same. Our rocking motion stuttered to a stop.

It felt like a precipice, frozen perfectly.

He was an incorrigible asshole, yes, but he was also brave and devoted and I knew he would let me go the moment I told him to.

“Tell me what this is about,” trying to harden my breathy voice, I stared at his golden orbs. He still held me but his limbs had gone lax.

When he maintained his silence, I slipped from his hold to turn around and sit on top of the table. Before he could mistake it as rejection - which he had as his grimace revealed - I wound my legs around his hips to pull him back to me. For once, it was he who stumbled into the table with a grunt.

Ha, revenge.

“Answer me,” I pressed. His hands rested on the table, caging my body. His face twisted again, self-deprecating.

“What do you want me to say? I— ” he took a wavering breath, “I want you.”

My heart lurched in palpitations. I couldn’t believe this was happening – and so, a tiny voice in my head compelled me to ask.

“You really don’t hate me?”

The Altmer eyed me in disbelief.

“Of course not. I only hated how you made me feel.”

I bit my lip, “How I made you feel?”

He gave a disbelieving huff.

“Don’t insult my intelligence by denying being aware. You’ve manipulated me taking advantage of the fact often enough.”

My brows furrowed, mirroring his disbelief. Certainly not.

“What are you talking about? I only tried to talk to you! But you kept insulting and ignoring me! What was I supposed to think when you were being so unpredictable?!”

He shifted, as if chastised by my anger.

“I admit I’ve… managed myself poorly. One of my strategies was to make you less desirable by reminding myself of your flaws.”

What in the actual fuck, Ancano.

“It proved to be futile. My taunts were returned by witty remarks, intelligence, and beauty.”

I stared at him, fondness and annoyance warring within my chest. For such a smart man, he made some very stupid decisions didn't he? Despite the fluffy feelings, a thought made me frown.

“And my friends – the apprentices? You’ve been terrible to them as well.”

When he tried to visibly escape from that question, I tightened my legs and plastered his hips to my core. He gave an aborted twitch as his erection pressed against me. Shivers.

“C’mon Ancano. Remember how I answered your questions back then? It’s your turn now.”

His face darkened despite his orange-tinted cheeks.

“Yes, I remember well. Your answers.”

I blinked at that.

I know you’re hiding something.

Oh. I’d forgotten he’d said that.

“At first I thought you were…" he hesitated with a scowl, "...liberal with your fornications.”

What–

“Seeing how affectionate you acted with your ‘friends’, I had the impression you’d laid with half the faculty. By the time I discerned your character, it was too late for me to make amends.”

I held up a finger, shocked by the sheer audacity.

“Alright, first off, even if I had slept with half the College,” molten glare, “which I didn’t, you wouldn’t get to judge me for it. Second, you didn’t answer my question.”

Still refusing to reply, he continued to glare at me. His hands were flexing again. I paused.

“Were you… jealous?”

“Yes, you vexing woman. I was jealous.”

I snickered at his disgruntled expression. Without even realizing it, I had reached to hold his face between my hands. The expression turned brittle.

“Honestly? I hated seeing you talk with Nirya.”

And now he looked stupefied.

“You did?”

I grinned up as his gloved hands settled snugly on my hips.

“Yep. I just couldn’t posture around like you. Ran off whenever I saw you together.”

Ah, there was the smug Ancano I knew. A sigh escaped me.

“I can’t believe we were both so oblivious.”

He leaned down, our faces centimeters away.

“Both?”

I hummed, combing his silvery hair with my fingers. His eyes fluttered shut, our noses almost touching.

“Remember when you shielded me from that dragon? I’ve had feelings for you since then.”

There had already been an attraction before – something I’d been vehemently denying to myself. The Dragon Bridge had been the point of no return, forever altering my perception of the Altmer.

His eyes snapped open at my confession.

“That… was four months ago.”

“Err, yeah?”

His fingers tightened. Before I could blink, he was rocking his hips again.

I moaned uselessly against the unexpected onslaught. Lips pressed against the corner of my mouth, making me gasp.

Kiss me, kiss me, kiss me–

“We shall make up for the lost time,” Ancano breathed before finally capturing my lips.

—

Ancano kissed like he did everything else in life, resolutely.

His hands encompassed my hips, lips stole my senses. He was possessive in his hold of my body and I could feel the hunger in his touch.

As his tongue breached the seams of my mouth, a shiver raked its nails down my back. With a moan, I wound my arms around his neck and pulled him impossibly closer. He was so fucking tall and big, I had never felt more protected.

Ancano’s fingers started wandering down my thighs, bunching up the dress and revealing the quivering flesh underneath. His gloves were an obstruction between our skins.

I broke apart and grinned as he bent further down to follow my lips, eyes dazed. Hair mussed and mouth swollen red by my rouged lips, he painted a sinful image of depravity. We were panting in unison.

“Gloves,” I managed to verbalize while tugging insistently on his arms and staring up at him – adamantly ignoring the crick in my neck while doing so.

There was a brief pause as he regarded me silently.  Just as I began to grow worried, his hands grabbed the back of my knees and lifted, making me yelp and hug him like a koala.

“Ancano!”

He chuckled in response, breath tickling my ear - which he  pressed a kiss on. My toes curled in delight at the affectionate gesture.

“Before someone sustains a neck injury,” he said while carrying me presumably toward the bed, which was hot, “we’d better take this to a more reasonable location.”

I pressed a smile against his neck and started unclasping the buckles of his wine-wet robes with one hand.

Only wrangling one of the clasps open, I huffed when Ancano deposited me on the bed.

He was towering over me, eyes lingering on my cleavage and legs as he removed his gloves – finger by finger.

Deciding to give him an eyeful, I stretched over the huge mattress like a cat and squealed with laughter when he grabbed my ankles to tug me over the side. My dress had ridden over my belly, revealing the utterly drenched underwear. He muttered something in High Elven.

“Look at you,” he said softly as one of his knees planted next to me. A whimper escaped me when bare palms slid across my calves, feeling tiny pinpricks of electricity under their wake.

“Ancano…” Of course he was the type to use magic during sex – not that I was complaining. He paused.

And promptly zapped me on the thigh.

“Ancano!”

Chuckling at my strangled shout, he reached for his collar. One hand popped the remaining two buckles open as I toed off my slippers. His shoulder piece fell to the floor, revealing the rounded shoulders.

I realized with a flush I’d never seen his real frame before, hidden under all the sharp lines of the Thalmor robes as it was. That made it all the more enthralling to watch him remove his layers of clothing and let them flutter to the ground carelessly, his eyes on me the whole time.

I lunged forward greedily as he peeled his undershirt off - my hands reaching out the caress his golden skin.

He inhaled sharply as my lips carressed his defined collarbones, my nails grazing his nipples and raking down his taut belly.

His sculpted body was that of a mage, with just enough muscles to give the illusion of normalcy. I knew better though. It was full of power as it was beautiful.

He bent to grab the hem of my dress, kissing me deeply as doing so. His tongue caressed mine before his hands removed the clothing in one swift move.

I remembered I hadn’t worn any chest bindings at that moment. His eyes roved over my breasts, halfway annoyed and halfway helplessly aroused. I stifled a laugh and seized the drawstrings of his trousers, pulling him closer.

“What’s wrong?” I whispered against his lips while untying the strings. His one hand grabbed my hip while the other palmed a mound on my chest. I hummed, feeling tingles of pleasure spreading.

“You vixen,” he growled. Tiny sparks danced on my nipple and I mewled in surprise, clutching his arm. That was good. “Have you no shame?”

I laughed breathily and finally pushed his trousers down to reveal his toned legs and covered hips. I grazed my fingers on his erection over the loincloth. Ancano grabbed my hand with a snarl, compelling me to look up at him, smirking.

He was angry I wasn’t wearing a bind with that skimpy dress. But, of course, it was more fun to goad him than to acknowledge the notion.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I sang, feigning ignorance. He grabbed my hair, bending my neck and kissing me furiously.

I plastered my body to his and tugged his loincloth down with my free hand. A garbled moan hit my lips when I caressed the lengthy silken cock revealed to me. I broke apart to look down, pressing my cheek to his chest while doing so.

His heartbeat was frenetic against my ear, reflecting the interest of the flushed and twitching erection in my palm. How the hell was he so pretty even down here?

Precum dripped off the tip. I whined, incredibly aroused by the scene.

“Insolent girl,” he gritted out, “You are playing with fire.” His hand was untying the hip strings of my underwear.

“Good thing I’m a mage,” I said, leisurely pumping his cock and looking into his eyes. “I can handle it.” And promptly bent down to press a kiss against the crown of his shaft, licking the precum off.

“Elena!” he gasped as I sucked the head into my mouth. Before I could swallow it further down, he grabbed me to toss me on my back. I pouted, sprawled on the bed.

“Later,” he hissed, climbing on top of me sinuously. “I’ll have you choking on my cock later.”

My underwear was tossed away and my knees were spread open by his hands. I trembled at his words with a moan as he eyed me down there, still rumbling.

“Pretty thing. You will beg for release, all that impertinence finally gone.”

A whimper escaped me as his hand parted my lips, thumbing the little nub of nerves. I mewled, clutching the sheets, and gave a cry as sparks left his fingertips.

“You will submit.”

“H-hah!” I grinned up defyingly, panting. “Make me.”

He stared down at me, expression blank. Then—

My whole body lit up.

I gasped, crying uselessly at the onslaught of pleasure spreading from my cunt. It bordered on pain, crawling under my skin – reaching to my fingertips. Even the sheets I was writhing on added to the sensation. His fingers slipped inside me, pumping along. My vision went white, thoughts swirling away.

I was heaving when I came to it, thighs twitching with tremors while Ancano was kneeling between them with heated eyes, watching me intently. I blinked back, dazed. He chuckled.

“Did you just make me come with magic?” I asked breathlessly, hands reaching for him. He came down to let me hug his shoulders, eyes dancing.

“Am I to understand you liked it?”

I giggled, pressing a kiss to his lips. He reciprocated eagerly.

“I loved it.”

His cock was still hanging heavily between his legs - pressing against my thigh, neglected. I wrapped my legs around his waist, urging his hips against mine with bated breath—

Only to freeze with a realization. He leaned back to look at me.

“Elena?”

I gave a nervous laugh, peering up at his golden eyes.

“Uh, what are we gonna do about…” He raised a brow, waiting for me to spit it out, “I’d rather not get pregnant at the moment,” I finished lamely, cringing at myself for ruining the mood. He regarded me for a second, eyes flickering down to my navel before a smirk tugged at his lips.

The tip of his erection nudged my sensitive and wet entrance, rubbing against the clit deliciously.

I gasped both with pleasure and ire, smacking his arm.

“Ancano! I’m serious!”

He grabbed my hands to press them against the mattress, tutting.

“Calm yourself. I shall brew a contraceptive afterwards.”

Ignoring my grumble, he pressed in. The head of his cock entered me slowly. I echoed his appreciative sigh with my own. It was rubbing all the right places.

“Although,” he whispered against my ear, startling a shiver out of me with his dark and possessive tone. “I do like the idea of you swelling with my seed.” He followed his words with a sharp thrust, bottoming out with a single move. I choked, both stunned and aroused by the words.

“A-Ancano—”

He started a heavy rhythm, still clutching my wrists as I writhed helplessly on the bed – completely under his mercy.

“Everyone would see who you belong to,” he panted out, ignoring my nonsense pleas while pressing open-mouthed kisses to my neck. “No one would- no," with a snarl he ground down, hands leaving my wrists to grip my hips. "No one will touch you again.”

I clutched his neck, nails scratching his back before tugging him down to pant back in his ear.

“Possessive bastard.”

He chuckled again, only to gasp when I nipped the tip his flushed ear in retaliation.

Grabbing my jaw, he turned my head around to thrust his tongue inside my mouth, in sync with his hips. His other hand found my clit, long and elegant fingers pinching and rubbing it. I trembled, feeling an orgasm approaching fast. It was so so good.

“I am,” he said once he released my lips, allowing me some air. I couldn’t formulate words anymore – just moans and cries as my hips rode his fingers and cock. “And you’re mine, Elena.”

I sobbed, barely hearing him. He bit my neck.

“Say it. Whom do you belong to?”

When I didn’t answer, he removed his hand – denying me release. I whined in objection, trying to shake my head against his hold of it.

“D-don’t stop–”

“Say it,” he breathed, staring into my eyes. I couldn’t help but stare back, tears of pleasure dripping down my lashes onto his fingers gripping my jaw. He ground down again, making me mewl. “Whom do you belong to?”

“Y-you,” I gasped, trying to touch myself for relief. He slapped my hands away with a tut.

“Louder.”

Sparks danced under my skin, just enough to keep me from reaching the peak and make me sob in frustration.

“You!” I managed out, clawing at his back. “You- I belong to you! Ancano, please. Please let me come,” I babbled. He shivered against my body.

“Good girl,” he praised huskily before kissing me deeply. He sped up, fingers slipping down to my clit again. I whimpered against his lips, sobbing his name and clutching his arms.

“I-I’m— A-Ancano—”

“Come,” He snarled, a final and tiny spark leaving his fingers.

Tears streamed down my cheeks as I moaned, head thrown back. My whole body lit and twitched with pleasure once more, my eyes rolling back inside my skull. I felt Ancano press his forehead to my neck and wrap his arms around my waist to crush me against him. He twitched deep inside, fast thrusts not allowing my hips to escape from overstimulation.

He was panting heavily against my collars when I made it back to the mortal plane. Gathering enough strength to scratch his scalp and move my hips languidly, I encouraged him deeper. He groaned some High Elven words incorrigibly, clutching me even tighter.

“Inside,” I breathed, rubbing the tips of his ears. “Come inside me.”

He answered with a filthy moan before spilling inside my cunt hotly. I sighed at the warmth of it. He pumped his hips a few more times, allowing my walls to milk everything out. We both stayed like that for a few seconds, catching our breaths.

Then, he lifted his head up from my neck to stare at my eyes, face still flushed orange. My hands rose up to comb his pale, mussed hair behind his ears.

Ancano captured one of my hands, still staring at me, and pressed it to his cheek. I caressed the sharp cheekbone.

“I’m not letting you go,” he said hoarsely. My heart quivered inside my chest. “Not after this.”

His eyes had a desperate challenging look to them.

“Fair enough,” I answered, holding his face in my hands and pressing my forehead against his. “I don’t think I can let you go either.”

And all was perfect for a moment more.

Chapter Text

I knew that sooner or later, the peace would be shattered.

“Intruders in the dungeons!” Bellowed someone from outside the building. Distant footsteps came from the halls.

I took a shuddering breath, pressing my head into Ancano’s neck and his arms tightened around me in response. We were laying side by side on the bed, our legs tangled.

I hated that this moment had to end.

“I need to go.” I whispered, looking up at his golden orbs. They were filled with confusion, flickering between the door and my face. I soldiered on, “You’ll be in trouble if they see you with me like this.”

His sharp brows furrowed.

“What–”

I pressed my lips to his, silencing him. His hand found the back of my head after a second and massaged my scalp, making me sigh at the gentleness.

I could kiss him like this for hours and still not have enough.

“I’ll explain everything back at the College.” I managed out between breaths, “I promise.”

“...Very well.” He muttered between his teeth, slowly unwinding his arms, “Bear in my mind that I will not be so lenient next time, Elena.”

I huffed a laugh at his dramatics. How weird it was, that I found it cute now.

I crawled up from the bed under his watchful eyes and once I was up on my two feet, wetness dripped to the floor from between my legs.

I glanced down at the white droplets, feeling my face burning.

The sight shouldn’t have been so arousing.

A sharp inhale behind me indicated the Altmer had seen it too.

I turned my head to look at his face but he was already on his feet and making his way around the bed with blown pupils.

A whine escaped me, wanting nothing more than to jump him back.

But, alas, our lives were on the line and at least one of us had to exercise some willpower.

I held up a hand, making him halt in his tracks.

“Later.” I managed, trying to ignore his erection and the slick feeling between my folds. I pressed my thighs together, “We don’t have time.”

The commotion outside suddenly arrived on our floor, which made my blood freeze in my veins. Ancano’s head had turned to the door, sharp ears hearing what I couldn’t.

I grabbed my panties and dress from the floor in panic, tugging them on quickly. Ancano followed my example but appeared presumably much more elegant while doing so.

He was already fully clothed by the time I slipped my footwear on.

“Tell them I Recalled.” I said, approaching him to grab his gloved hands, “Or anything, really, to keep yourself safe and away from suspicion. I will need to escape through the window to get away, I can’t get back to the College at the moment.”

He nodded stiffly but didn’t answer. A jolt of panic squeezed my chest.

“Ancano?” I asked, tugging on his unresponsive hands. His eyes were on the wall, jaw clenched. “...What’s wrong?”

“Was it all an act?” Asked the Thalmor with a voice devoid of emotion. My brows furrowed in confusion.

“What? The sex?” He chuckled lowly. The sound was grating and I was getting increasingly nervous. The doors were being banged open down the hall.

“That and… the rest.” He finally looked down at my face, gaze furious. ”The words. Was it a ploy to distract me?”

We really had a communication problem.

“...Seriously?” I asked, deadpan. Before he could answer the hypothetical question, I violently tugged on his collars to press my lips to his cheek, but it landed on his chin since he was a freaking giraffe. He let out a surprised grunt, hands hovering on my hips.

“No.” I declared harshly a second later, gazing into his eyes. “It wasn’t. I… I want this with you.”

He took a wavering breath just as his hands crushed me against his chest for a quick but mind-spinning kiss. I dazedly realized my body had turned transparent.

Invisibility.

Cool.

“I will not forgive betrayal.” He declared harshly against my mouth, fingers pressing down on my hips again. “And I will have you again, Elena. Don’t make me chase you.”

He turned to open the latch of the window just as the locked doorknob jiggled furiously and fists banged on the door.

“Open the door at once!”

Ancano turned to me with a grim face. “Don’t scream.” He intoned lowly – and promptly pushed me off the window.

I barely managed to hold my shriek as my body floated toward the snow-covered floor slowly. I neared the stone and iron-wrought wall separating the embassy from the outside world. Ancano had also cast Slowfall on me, the lovable bastard.

I grabbed the iron fencing to push myself over it, gliding over the wall smoothly. And I was outside.

Once standing on my two feet safely, I glanced back at the window. It was impossible to see the inside.

I prayed for his safety to whatever Aedra that was listening and, with a heavy heart, tip-toed away – making sure to not leave prints.

It was a long and cold trek to Solitude.

—

“Did you seriously pour wine on a Thalmor officer as a distraction?” Asked Axl once I stepped inside our inn room, wet and cold and incredibly tired from the walk. He was laying on his bed, limbs akimbo.

There was a Thalmor robe abandoned on the floor.

“Aren’t there more important things to ask before that?” I retorted, collapsing on the bed heavily and grimacing at the crusty feeling of my panties.

I needed to wash up.

And find contraceptives.

“Like, ‘Are you alright, Elena?’ or ‘How did you get away, Elena?’. Also, please tell me you found something worthwhile.”

“Oh, yes. Worthwhile…” He laughed. “The Thalmor have no idea about the dragons either.”

“Great.” I groaned, rubbing my face. “So, you learned nothing then.”

“Not exactly.” Answered the Nord with a sigh. “I learned they are looking for a man named Esbern, another Blade – and that they were manipulating Ulfric into a war with the Imperials to weaken both sides.”

“...WHAT.” I lunged back to a sitting position, staring at Axl with wide eyes. “Manipulating Ulfric? How?” He grabbed a leather folder that was laying next to him and tossed it to me.

It smacked my face.

“Ow.”

“See for yourself.”

Intrigued, I thumbed open the dossier.

Status: Asset (uncooperative), Dormant, Emissary Level Approval

Description: Jarl of Windhelm, leader of the Stormcloak rebellion, Imperial Legion veteran

Background:
Ulfric first came to our attention during the First War against the Empire, when he was taken as a prisoner of war during the campaign for the White-Gold Tower. Under interrogation, we learned of his potential value (son of the Jarl of Windhelm) and he was assigned as an asset to the interrogator, who is now First Emissary Elenwen. He was made to believe information obtained during his interrogation was crucial in the capture of the Imperial City (the city had in fact fallen before he had broken), and then allowed to escape. After the war, contact was established and he has proven his worth as an asset. The so-called Markarth Incident was particularly valuable from the point of view of our strategic goals in Skyrim, although it resulted in Ulfric becoming generally uncooperative to direct contact.

Operational Notes:
Direct contact remains a possibility (under extreme circumstances), but in general the asset should be considered dormant. As long as the civil war proceeds in its current indecisive fashion, we should remain hands-off. The incident at Helgen is an example where an exception had to be made - obviously Ulfric's death would have dramatically increased the chance of an Imperial victory and thus harmed our overall position in Skyrim. (NOTE: The coincidental intervention of the dragon at Helgen is still under scrutiny. The obvious conclusion is that whoever is behind the dragons also has an interest in the continuation of the war, but we should not assume therefore that their goals align with our own.) A Stormcloak victory is also to be avoided, however, so even indirect aid to the Stormcloaks must be carefully managed.

...

...What in the actual fuck.

I stared at the elegantly written words with a lump stuck in my throat. Axl was still and silent, watching the ceiling.

“Are… are you alright?” I asked tentatively, putting the dossier away. He shrugged.

“I’m not surprised if that’s what you’re asking.”

“You’re not?” I asked, actually surprised myself.

“It makes sense. The Thalmor always had the resources to catch Ulfric. They never did.”

“That’s… true.” I paused, suddenly remembering Axl’s guilty conscience, “You better not be blaming yourself, Axl.”

He laughed, digging his knuckles into his eyes. I pressed on.

“I’m serious. These politicians manipulated you.”

“It’s hilarious that you call Ulfric a politician.” Mused the Dovahkiin.

“He is.” I huffed back, “A good one, too. He knows well how to play people.”

“...He does, doesn’t he?”

I watched his sullen, pale face. The deeper he dug, the more disappointed he got. How much more could he take before he crumbled?

A pit of guilt formed in my chest.

And me? How would he react if he learned about my relationship with Ancano? Would I disappoint him too?

“Before you ask,” Axl’s voice startled me out of my dark thoughts, “Malborn’s safe.”

“Oh, right! How did you guys escape?”

“They caught him after your little show, apparently. I got him out when he was brought to the dungeons. How about you? I heard the Thalmor you assaulted with wine whisked you away.”

I bit my lip, uncertain as to how to explain.

“Elena?”

“So, the elf I ‘assaulted with wine’?”

He snorted, “Yes?”

“He was from the College. He is an advisor there.”

Axl sat upright, brows furrowed.

“You knew him?”

“Yeah.” I sighed, “We’re, uhh… friends? I guess? He actually helped me escape.” I cringed at how unconvincing I sounded. I could tell from Axl’s dry expression that he didn’t believe me either.

“You’re friends with a Thalmor?” Asked the Nord, tone full of disbelief.

“I-I don’t know how to explain it.”

He seemed to be catching on.

“Elena.” said the Nord, tone exasperated and still disbelieving.

“OKAY!” I exclaimed, springing to my feet. Axl had jumped at my tone, “Okay. So, we were enemies? Strangers? Right. Then he saved my life. Multiple times. Then he denied it.” I walked around the room, “It was like psychological warfare! I didn’t know what to feel!”

I whirled around to stare at Axl, who was looking at me with wide eyes.

“Then,” I continued, “we both finally managed to communicate. In the Embassy. After that…” I bit my lip and sat on the bed again. Axl snorted.

“You fucked?”

Well… what was I supposed to say when he asked it like that?

“...Language.” I ended up grousing lamely.

“Oh, piss off. You say it all the time.” His tone was playful. I raised a brow at his levity.

“I just told you I had this weird romantic drama with a Thalmor. Don’t you care?”

“I do. I can’t believe you let a Thalmor fuck you.”

“Axl!”

“But I trust you.”

“That’s… ugh,” I grumbled for a second, feeling my face heating up, “...Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” He paused pensively, “This reminds me of those novels.”

“What novels?”

“You’ve never read one? A noble elf lays with a lowly peasant human who satisfies his weird fetishes. He denies his feelings until they finally elope. Then one of them dies in a gruesome way.” He paused, grimacing, “Or they both commit suicide.”

I stared, gaping.

“...What the fuck kinda books are you reading?”

He laughed and the pit of guilt in my chest lessened with the sound.

“What I mean is,” Said the Nord, laying back on the bed again, “if you like him, he must have redeeming qualities. And he helped you out of the Embassy. That’s treason.”

My stomach rolled in nausea. Axl, seeing my face, grew alarmed.

“I’m sure he’s fine!” Amended the Nord, “If they sent him as an advisor to the College, he must be a high-ranking agent. They won’t do anything to him unless they have solid proof.”

“They didn’t see me escape.” I granted and calmed down a little.

“There. He’ll come up with something. Thalmor agents are smart if nothing else…” He muttered begrudgingly.

“...I really like him, Axl.” I admitted softly. Apologetically.

He sighed, the sound tired, “And I’m telling you – it’s alright.”

—

After a thorough scrubbing and flaming face of shame upon having to scratch flakes of dried cum from my crotch, I was dressed in my safe and warm robes.

As Axl bathed next, I left the inn to finally wander the city of Solitude.

I needed some time to myself.

And needed to find an alchemist.

‘Cause pregnancy was a no-no.

The sun was about to go down with red hues painting the tall walls. The city was beautiful and most importantly NOT SMELLY.

The stone roads and well-designed manors were completely different from the rustic feeling of Whiterun. Even the people looked much more well-off with their fur-lined robes and glinting jewels.

Feeling my stress abating with every step, I veered toward the crowded market.

It was bustling with people who were hollering and bartering. Wine and pastry stands were releasing delicious aromas – and there were so many imported goods from around the continent.

I almost squealed with joy upon discovering coffee beans from a Redguard merchant who’d imported them from Elsweyr. She told me although the drink wasn’t quite popular among the Nords, it was prominent in Elsweyr, Valenwood, and Cyrodiil.

I wondered if Ancano liked coffee.

Purchasing as much as I could carry along with a manual grinder, I daydreamed of having a hot cup of coffee after waking up in the morning.

That made me feel better about spending a small fortune on it.

I ate sweet rolls with spiced wine, delighting in the luxury while continuing to peer around in wonder.

The city reminded me of Earth. It was clean and bountiful.

No wonder Onmund had gushed so much about it.

After finishing my treats and purchasing shampoo (SHAMPOO!), I eventually entered the alchemy shop.

The doorbell tinkled merrily, compelling the elderly lady behind the counter to look up. She had a soft smile that deepened the lines of her face.

“Well hello! Welcome to Angela’s Aromatics, my dear.”

“Hello,” I greeted back grinning. She was very charming, “I need, uh, something to prevent pregnancy.”

She chuckled, nodding her head, “Of course. Do you need it for before or after?”

“After.”

Humming, she turned around to open some cupboards, “You wouldn't have happen to come from Whiterun, would you?”

Blinking at the abrupt question, I responded, “No but I was there a few months ago.”

“Wonderful.” She turned around with several vials in her hands, beaming at me, “I hadn't really hoped to run into someone who had been there.”

She approached the counter to lay the vials out. “My daughter, Fura, was assigned to Whiterun after she joined the Imperial Army. I was hoping you might have met her. I haven't heard from her lately.” The elderly woman sighed tiredly, “I've tried talking to Captain Aldis but he hasn't been any help.”

I frowned, feeling sympathy unfurling in me, “I haven’t met her, but I… I could try to get information. I have contacts in the city.”

“Oh, that's very sweet of you. Anything you can find out would be welcome news.”

She handed me the vials with instructions before telling me a greatly undercharged total.

I returned to the inn to quickly put my purchases away and write to Commander Caius about the missing daughter. Maman’s face flashed in my mind as I did so.

I wondered if she was looking for me still. Guilt hooked its nails on my heart as I realized my family crossed my mind extremely rarely these days.

Axl was snoring on his bed –deaf to the world– so I placed the pastries I’d bought for him on his nightstand. He would probably wake up in the middle of the night and eat them.

Insomnia was hard.

I also drank the contraceptive and almost threw it right back up. Nasty stuff.

Leaving the inn this time to look around the palace and go deeper inside the city, I walked leisurely toward the Bards College where people were listening to the performance of a soft-voiced man.

Someone bumped into me.

“Oh, I’m so sorry–” I started.

“Please help me!”

—

It goes without saying that breaking into palaces at the behest of random homeless elves is bound to have consequences.

Especially if the said elf hands you an old dusty pelvis bone and tells you, very creepily, that you will need it to enter the forbidden wing of the Blue Palace.

The elf who’d bumped into me, Dervenin, was a poor Bosmer half –or completely– out of his mind.

“My master has abandoned me! Abandoned his people.” He cried with sunken, black eyes. He’d already grabbed a hold of my hands as I tried to frantically look around for an escape, “And nothing I say can change his mind. Now he refuses to even see me. He says I interrupt his vacation! It's been so many years…” He collapsed to his knees, sobbing, “Won't you please help?”

“Alright, alright.” I interrupted, trying to shake his hands off as he sniffed with teary eyes, “I’ll find this master of yours. Calm down.”

He broke out into the biggest and sharpest (because, Bosmer teeth) smile I’d ever seen in my life.

“Oh, thank you! Thank you so much! He’ll hear you out, I know he will!”

From there he’d given me the, uh, pelvis.

I was half inclined to throw the thing away and run back to the inn without looking back, having mixed emotions about this Beauty and the Beast/Bluebeard crossover.

But something held me back. A tiny sliver of excitement.

And also pity – for Dervenin, who’d started rambling deliriously at some point.

Tucking the withered bone away inside my satchel with a cringe, I made my way toward the palace at a resigned pace. The Bosmer was still whooping behind me.

Axl was going to laugh his ass off when I told him about this.

—

The inside of the palace was even prettier than the outside.

It took all my power not to forget the forbidden wing and just droll over the decoration of the entry. It was a pity I would be returning to the College the next day.

This city deserved days of wandering.

After convincing the maid with some gold coins pressed into her palm, I was able to sneak inside the wing with no problem.

My face contorted in discomfort upon seeing the drastic change in the upkeep. There was no way someone was having a tea party in here.

“Dervenin, what have you gotten me into?” I muttered as my feet danced around the debris and the dust cluttering the ground. There were spider webs and rotten furniture everywhere.

The candles, however, were clean and new. Not to mention lit.

I suppressed a shiver.

Making my way up to the second floor, I arrived on a long corridor.

“Hello?” I called out meekly. Horror movies had taught me nothing. “Anybody there?”

Silence.

Sighing and incredulous that I was about to do what I was thinking of doing, I took the hip bone out of my satchel.

I continued down the corridor slowly, shaking the bone.

“Uh, I’ve got a… pelvis? Here? So… Come and get it?..”

A distant but familiar-sounding creak of the old building echoed.

“What am I even doing, for Christ’s sake.” Huffing, I rubbed my eyes with my free hand, “This is ridiculous even for my stan–...”

I opened my eyes.

“dards… Well, I’ll be damned.”

Never mind Beauty and the Beast.

This is Alice in Wonderland.

I was standing in a fantasy forest, the air misty and the trees prettily swaying in a non-existing wind. There was a glow to everything. Butterflies of shifting colors were fluttering around. The stars were moving in the sky.

Where was I?

I looked down on myself to see ugly but expensive clothes. I felt around my head. A hat.

I tried to take it off.

I… I couldn’t take it off.

Why the fuck was there a hat stuck on my head?

WHY AM I WEARING DIFFERENT CLOTHES? WHERE IS MY SATCHEL? THE BONE??

“More tea, Pelly my dear?” Voiced a Scottish accent from the distance. Tea? Dervenin’s master?

“Oh, I couldn't. It goes right through me. Besides, I have so many things to do…” Answered another voice. That one sounded tired.

I slowly approached where the conversation was happening and peeked from behind a tree.

There was a gigantic stone table in the middle of a clearing and two men were sitting at it.

Were those wheels of cheese on the table?

“... are the best Septim that has ever ruled.” Continued the man with the Scottish accent. I realized with a jolt he was wearing the most ridiculous get-up I’d ever seen on Nirn, and that was saying something.

“Well, except for that Martin fellow, but he turned into a Dragon god, and that's hardly sporting. You know, I was there for that whole sordid affair. Marvelous time! Butterflies, blood, a Fox, a severed head... Oh, and the cheese!” He hummed obscenely, “To die for."

What the fuck?

"Yes, yes, as you've said countless times before." Drawled the blonde-haired man. He was skeletally thin but had an air of regality. The wacky guy huffed.

“Well, if you're going to be like that, I think it's best I take my leave.” He snapped his fingers angrily, “I said a good day to you, sir, I said good day!"

“Yes. Leave me to my ceaseless responsibilities and burdens…"

And the blonde man disappeared with a swoosh of a portal.

Alright, I was certainly out of my depth here.

“How RUDE!” Bellowed the weird one. I jumped at the loudness and screamed upon seeing him staring my way.

He didn’t have irises.

“Oh.” He pursed his lips after my shriek, nodding, “That was a good one. Heartfelt. Quite melodic, I might even dare say!” He cackled.

Yeah. No.

I turned around to start running but my legs locked in place. I gave a shuddering gasp as he tutted.

“I see you have problems with navigation,” He said from behind me, “Allow me to… assist.”

My feet turned me around and started moving haltingly toward the table, completely out of my control.

I tried to Dispel whatever hold he had on me, but it felt like I was lapping up at an empty pool of Magicka. My access to magic was cut off.

I was on the verge of tears by the time I made it to the table, standing across from him. He was looking up at me from his seat with a Cheshire grin.

“W-who are you?” I managed to garble out.

A man able to control my body as he wished.

This was scarier than a fucking dragon.

“Me? Me!” He pursed his lips, pupilless eyes -presumably- squinting at me.

I suppressed a shiver, completely mute in the face of this unhinged guy.

“Never mind me.” He said after a second before snorting and slapping his thigh. “HAH. You can only hear that from a Daedra once every millennium.”

I bluescreened.

Weird-ass place. Weird clothes. Crazy double colored-doublet guy. Daedra.

“Who are YOU?” Intoned Sheogorath, the Daedric Prince of Madness, with a grin sharp enough to cut stone.

“A fucking idiot, apparently.” I answered, tone half hysteric and half horrified. He cackled again. I could only stand there like a fool as he tried to calm himself down.

It wasn’t even funny.

“Ooo, you’re a treat.” A giggle, “I might even forgive you for ruining my holiday.”

“Uh.” I gulped, uncertain as to how to address a fucking GOD, “I’m sorry. I-I just–”

“S-S-SPIT. IT. OUT!” He mocked sharply.

“Dervenin asked me to convince you to return!” I squealed.

“...Did he now?” He leaned on his fist, tapping his cheekbone with a finger thoughtfully. “And you –tiny, puny, expendable mortal– think you can convince me?”

“My name is Elena.” I offered, albeit meekly, after the ‘mortal’ bit, “And I would love to try convincing you.”

“Elena?” He parrotted while raising a pale brow, “Elena… ELENA!” I jumped at his loud cry, “You wouldn’t happen to be… THE ELENA who stayed in that little, wee dragon house in Whiterun?” Dragonsreach? How to hell did he know about that?

“I…I– yes?”

“SPLENDID!”

“Wait, wait, hold on.” I held up a hand, “How do you know about me and Dragonsreach?”

“How do I, indeed…”

“...Will you just tell me?”

“No. Of course not. Where is the fun in that?!”

“...In the tiny spark of happiness you’ll get from being helpful to a pitiful mortal?” I suggested upon seeing his smirk. This guy liked bantering, not submission.

“You’re two hundred years too late for that, my dear, but A for effort.”

A FOR EFFORT?

“ARE YOU FROM EARTH?” I blurted before I could even think.

He blinked slowly at my outburst before breaking into unhinged laughter. He laughed and laughed, leaning on the table heavily.

I felt like crying, what the fuck was going on.

“Aren’t you a sharp one!”

I gawked at him, “...Is that a yes?”

He sat back on his chair without answering – but his grin was telling enough.

I gripped the hair of my scalp, needing SOMETHING to ground me, “How the hell are you from Earth!? YOU’RE A FUCKING DAEDRA!”

“Well, you see… at least I think you do.”

“See what!?”

“I’m the Mad God.”

“I got that already!”

“Goood. Or not. Anyway.” He gestured for me to sit down. I did. I mean, who wouldn’t if it was a god telling you to take a seat on his tea table. “It’s a family title. Gets passed down from me to myself every few thousand years.”

“What.”

“Tea?”

“I– sure?” A porcelain teapot floated from the table to pour some steaming liquid inside a dainty teacup. The teapot sobbed while the teacup gave tiny screeches of pain. By the time the cup floated in front of me, it was literally trembling.

It took me long seconds to gather enough courage to take it in my hands.

“There was a Sheogorath before me. And before him. And even before him. And–”

“That doesn’t explain how you came from Earth.”

He huffed. I sipped from my tea only to realize it was water. The cup wiggled.

Jesus Christ.

“Unless you’re partial to jumping rope with your own entrails, I suggest you stop interrupting me.” I froze mid-sip, cold sweat dripping down my back, “Good. Now. As I was saying… What was I saying?”

“...The previous Sheogoraths?”

“RIGHT. The previous Sheogorath gave the title to me. A little of a hasty decision, if you ask me.” I watched as he grabbed a cookie. Instead of eating it directly, he crumbled it in a fist and poured the pieces inside his cup.

Then he drank the contents. I barely held back a grimace.

Monster.

“But astute nevertheless. I was already barmy from all the things I’d seen.” He grinned, “Who better to be a Mad God than a misfit human?”

“So, you were a human.”

“That’s what I said.”

This changed everything. I wasn’t the only one.

“Do you know how you came to Nirn? Or… or how to return to Earth?”

“HAH. No.”

“You’re a Daedric Prince!”

“Of Madness! Do you see me sprouting tentacles?”

“WHAT DOES THAT HAVE ANYTHING TO DO WITH THE CONVERSATION?”

He started cackling again.

I was just about to say fuck it and start strangling the dude.

“I like you, mortal.” He said after a minute, wiping a tear and wheezing.

“...Thanks?”

“You’re so clueless, it’s hilarious.”

“...I retract my previous statement.” I amended, tone dead-pan. He snorted.

“I’ll make you a deal.” Said the Prince of Madness, slouching back and cradling his teacup against his chest.

“Can I… not take it?”

“If you’d rather be stuck here inside a homicidally insane and dead monarch’s mindscape, be my guest.”

I sputtered in confusion.

“Homicidally insane, dead – what are you talking about? I thought this was the Shivering Isles?” He gaped at me and almost sloshed his tea –I mean water– with how fast he sat up.

“Shivering Isles!? THE AUDACITY.” He hissed as I cringed in my seat. It was horrifying how fast his mood changed.

“This place couldn’t hold a candle to the hysteria of my plane! You’ll have to come see it now, no take-backsies.”

“I-I don’t have a choice, do I?”

“Of course you don’t. Now, to the deal.” He stared at me, unblinking, “I’m going to leave. There. You convinced me. Time to get back to my adorably insane peons. And Haskill, poor bore, must be having so much peace in my absence. I should be remedying that.”

Poor Haskill, indeed. Whoever that was.

“Oookay?”

“For that, you need to find a way out. Then we’ll both be on our merry ways.”

“You’ll take Dervenin back?”

He rolled his eyes, “Yes, yes.”

“Answer my questions?”

“Question. I’ll answer your question. Singular. One.” He held up his pinkie and wiggled it.

A maniac who used his pinkie finger to gesture the number ‘1’.

And I was about to bargain with him.

“How about two?” I asked, tone soft and hopeful. He sighed.

“FINE. Fine. Three it is.”

“...” This guy was the personification of a fever dream. “Deal.” I said before he could change his mind. “Where exactly are we anyway?”

“This, my dear mortal, is the deceptively verdant mind of Emperor Pelagius III.”

“Oh.” The Mad Emperor. How fitting.

“Now, now. Don’t sound so dejected! We’re going to have fun!” Taking my dubious silence in a stride, he waved a hand. A staff poofed into existence in front of me, landing on the table and shattering my cup. Hot water spilled everywhere and I yelped while clambering up to my feet.

“Ahaha, oops. I was going to turn that Argonian back to normal. Hmm. Pity.” I stared at him, aghast.

THE PORCELAIN WERE ACTUALLY PEOPLE?

And I… I drank from it?

What in the actual fuck.

“Take the staff. Go on.” I apprehensively grabbed the thing, half expecting to be blown up.

It silently hummed in my palm, the wood thrumming with power.

It was also ugly as fuck.

“Is this…”

“The Wabbajack! Wasn’t expecting that, huh? HUH?”

“I– no. I honestly wasn’t.” I squinted at him, wary of where this was going. “Why are you giving me your artifact?”

“Well, why not? One Earthling to another. Also, you can’t use magic –or anything else really– to escape. So, you’ll need it.” He stretched his arms before slouching back once more. His empty cup was next to the shattered one, sobbing eerily. I wondered if they were family. “Now, go. Take a look around.”

“...Can I take my hat off?”

“No.”

Grumbling, I turned around and started walking down a random path.

—

After a bunch of useless commentary from Sheogorath and the surprisingly substantial mental problems of Pelagius, I was standing in front of the Daedric Prince in one piece.

“Done.” I sighed, sprawling on the chair and still clutching Wabbajack. “I fixed Pelagius’s mind.”

“Hmm…” He mused, munching on some éclairs. He was at least eating it normally – nope, never mind.

He opened one, scraped the cream out with his teaspoon, and ate the pâte à choux only.

I watched in abject horror.

“‘Fixed’ is such a subjective term. I think ‘treated’ is far more appropriate, don’t you?” He ate another éclair, “Like one does to a rash or an arrow in the face.”

“I don’t think I’m qualified to comment.” I answered, apprehensive. He grinned. There were chocolate smudges on his teeth.

Being in Sheogorath’s presence was like riding a pendulum. One moment I felt like crying from fear, another moment I was barely holding my laughter in. At the moment? I was biting my tongue to push down a hysterical giggle.

“No matter,” He continued, unaware of my struggles, “Heartless mortal that you are, you’ve actually succeeded and survived. I’m forced to honor my end of the bargain.”

“Great, can I ask my questions now?”

“You can ask the remaining two.”

“Two? But we agreed on–”

“Three? Yes, you just used the first one.”

“What–” I snapped my mouth shut, seeing the game he was playing.

Breathing deeply, I formed my sentences slowly.

“That didn’t count.”

“It did for me and I suggest you stop wasting my time.”

…

Alright, I wasn’t dumb enough to argue with Sheogorath.

“How did you know about me?”

“Boooring.” He sighed, “But fine. Mephala found you first. Through that kid… what was his name? Nelly? Nelmy? The crazy one that plots his father’s murder? I love it when they do that.” I felt my blood freeze in my veins.

“Nelkir?” I asked. He snapped his fingers.

“YES! That one. HAHA. The Webspinner didn’t even realize the brat was far too insane to escape my notice. He was, also, very diligent in stalking you,” He mused, smirking at me, “I picked all I know from his grimy, little, sinister mind.”

I was feeling light-headed.

“I don’t know which is more terrifying. Two Daedric Princes keeping tabs on me through a child, or the child plotting the Jarl’s death.”

“Eh.” Said Sheogorath, shrugging, “You’d be surprised how common both of those things are.”

“Jesus Christ.”

“Ooo, I hadn’t heard that one in a long time.”

I only had more questions now. How had Mephala even reached out to Nelkir? What had made her interested in me in the first place? Was I safe from her?

“Tick tock, my dear.”

“Right, okay…” I was also extremely curious about him. Where was he from? WHEN was he from? What was his name? How did he become Sheogorath when he was actually a mortal?

But there were more crucial things to know.

Seeing as he’d already said he didn’t know how we came from Earth or how to go back, I settled on a question that had been plaguing my mind since the start.

“Why… were we brought here?” He would know, right? As a god.

Sheogorath drummed his fingers on the table, eerily staring at me for a few seconds.

His posture and expression had shifted with my question.

“To ‘fix’.” Responded the madman after a long pause.

I waited for further explanation.

“...That’s it?”

He wiped his mouth on a tablecloth before jumping to his feet, “Disappointed?” he mocked.

I stood up as well, sputtering “Well– yes! That doesn’t tell me anything! To fix what?!”

“Mortal.” I snapped my mouth shut at his tone, “I… have been known to change my mind. So… it’s time to go. Really.” A sudden cheery hum, “Let’s make sure I’m not forgetting anything.” He patted himself down. “Clothes? Check. Beard? Check! Luggage?”

He looked around as I stared disbelievingly.

“Luggage! Now where did I leave my luggage?” Just then, a portal appeared.

Dervenin stepped out of it, smiling like there was no tomorrow.

“Master! You’ve taken me back! Does this mean we’re going home? Oh, happy times–” Sheogorath rolled his eyes, at least it looked like he did, and waved his hand dismissively.

“Yes, yes, that’s quite enough celebration. Let’s send you ahead, shall we?”

Dervenin was looking into my eyes gratefully as he disappeared inside another portal.

“And as for you, my dear mortal…” Sheogorath turned to look at me, the hysteric grin making a full appearance on his face. He came around the table to stand in front of me.

Thinking he wanted the Wabbajack, I held it out to him. He laughed.

“Keep it.” He sang-song before grabbing my shoulder and spinning me around. I shivered as his hand patted my back amiably. His hand felt deceptively… normal. For a Daedric Prince, I mean. “As a symbol of my…” He trailed off, brows furrowing. I stared at him, perplexed.

“...Of your…?”

“...Just keep the damn thing.”

I snorted as a portal appeared in front of us. A sudden wave of courage washed over me.

“Wait!” I yelled. He looked down at me, intrigued, “At least tell me where you are from! Or- or when!”

“Elena, Elena.” He tutted, “Do learn your numbers. One, three, two, zero? Hmm?”

“I’m aware I’ve used my questions.” I huffed, completely ignoring the fact he was butchering the order of the numbers, “I just thought I’d try again.” The hum of the portal was so loud that I could barely hear myself.

“Well, I do admire the tenacity. Very well. I’m from–” He pushed me inside the portal, “My mother’s knickers! TA TA!”

“OH C’MON–”

I woke up in the deserted hallway with the Wabbajack clutched to my chest and a curse on my lips.

And the damned hat was still on my head.