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Skyrim: Plaything	By : GE_The_Beast Category: +A through F > Elder Scrolls - Skyrim Views: 21445 -:- Recommendations : 3 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: This story is made for fun, profit and entertainment. In no way do I own anything discussed. I do not own Skyrim or The Elder Scrolls fandom in any way, nor do I intend any profit from this story.

Chapter List
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The carriage ride from Dawnstar to Morthal was short, mercifully. Elayne told the driver she would only be gone less than an hour, and she kept her word. Jorgen, who had a piece of the artifact, was fairly simple to convince. All she needed to say was that she needed it to kill Alduin, and the man gave it up without a word. Seething mad about something, but Elayne was on her way before he could take his anger out on his woodpile. The last thing she did was go to Jorgen’s wife and buy almost all of the alchemical ingredients she could, and some fresh bread.
Then it was off to Falkreath. Fighting bandits seemed to excite Lydia, and Elayne shivered under her long dress until the carriage got to warmer lands. They both stayed awake the entire carriage ride, more than a day. Neither wanted to dare sleep in the open. They didn’t know what would happen. So, bleary eyed and tired they crawled into the Dead Man’s Drink Inn, and passed out.
“We might be cursed.” Lydia whispered into her ear in the morning after. “We can’t keep waking up like this together.” She winked, awakening Elayne into full wakefulness.
The mad scramble for clothing began, but Elayne is fairly sure that she and Lydia were swapping breastbands at this point. She needed more, anyways. She wore a long dress, even though the weather was uncharacteristically warm. “There has to be reason for this.” Elayne mumbled. “Maybe it’s the piercings?”
Lydia watched as Elayne laced up her heels. “Maybe it’s the book.” The housecarl growled. “It’s getting dangerous.”
“It’s helping us!” Elayne insisted.
“I have a collar around my neck I cannot remove.” Lydia hissed. “I am your housecarl, but the more we use this the greater I fear the consequences. Things of oblivion are not for us mortals to contend with.” She seemed to realize that she was angry, and looked at the floor. “I’ll go see what the blacksmith says about some of these weapons. I’ll be back when I’ve cooled off.” Lydia stopped at the door. “My Thane.” She stomped out, mad.
Elayne left soon after, trying to sell more of the items they had gained in Blackreach. But eventually she ran out of people with willingness to buy her items, and found her way to the Jarl. He was reading a book, piles of open letters on a small table to his left. None of them appear to be replied to, and Elayne could see the seal of the Imperial Legion sitting on some of the more yellowed pieces of paper.
“The Jarl is busy.” One of the women in the room spoke up, an Altmer. She seemed to stare at the dragon priest mask with respect. “My name is Nenya, Lady Dragonborn. How can I assist you?”
“I had questions about some bandits in the province.” She replied.
“Normally when people say that, I am due for a long conversation about road safety.” Nenya seemed to smile. “Somehow I feel as though your questions are different.”
“There are some orc bandits that may have been at Cracked Tusk Keep for some time.” Elayne tried to keep her voice even. “I was wondering if they might still be there.”
“Oh they are.” Nenya assured. “Five years now, they’ve been squatting there. Their leader prefers to raid Markarth, or the Forsworn. We receive complaints from local miners every year.”
That didn’t reflect well on Jarl Siddgeir. “Is there anything that has been done?”
“We have a reward for their removal. They have killed at least three miners last year alone.” Nenya pulled out a ledger that had listed bounties. One looked to be a dragon, somewhere to the south. “If you remove them, we will pay you handsomely. The Jarl has not been aggressive in pushing for the bounty, as the pay comes from his limited funds.” She said the last quietly. “But your help would be appreciated. The people of the hold will be pleased.”
Elayne nodded. “Can you tell me anything about the bandits?”
“They are all orcs. Kept in line by their leader. They’ve been there long enough to make their own touches to the fort, with their leader in the highest tower. What we know is that he has gotten a large store of mead and alcohol and manages to keep those louts in line using it.” Nenya explained. “That tower of his connects to the mountain above. If you could come from above, you’ll be able to avoid most of the bandits. But the mountain is steep. Especially in those shoes.”
“I’ll be alright.” Elayne promised. “I’ve been through worse.”
Nenya gave her a bow. “Good luck, then.”
She found Lydia by the gate, a sour look on her face. “Ready to go fight some bandits?” She asked her housecarl.
“It will be the first thing to make simple sense since Blackreach.” Lydia nodded. They never even used the secret entrance to the fort. Lydia went on a near-rampage. Whatever had her angry, Elayne did not know. The woman was on the warpath, and between the two of them the orcs had no chance. They returned to Falkreath that night covered in the signs of battle. Evidence enough for Nenya, who paid them five hundred coins!
They had more than two thousand septims now! Her bag was very heavy with the coinage. Falkreath had mostly smaller denominations of coin, so the weight was getting rather impressive. By Lydia’s request, they both got separate rooms at the inn. To avoid causing whatever had happened the last time they had gone to sleep in the same room.
When morning came, it brought no comfort. Elayne shivered awake, seeing that she had again woken up naked. “I think something in the other world cursed us.” It couldn’t have been the book. It was an object of power, but it shouldn’t have been the book. Lydia might think so, but it wasn’t in the nature of Hermaeus Mora to do that. That was more like Sanguine.
“Where to now, My Thane?” Lydia asked, in a much better mood as the weather started getting overcast.
“Up the road. We passed a fort along the way. My aunt is one of the leaders of the Forsworn there.” Lydia stiffened. “Don’t be rude, Lydia. They are still people that will die if Alduin wins.”
“I won’t draw my weapon first.” Lydia promised. That was perhaps the best she could expect from the Nord. “I’ll give them a chance.”
Fort Sungard was a looming edifice above the road leading west, into the Reach. As they passed by, it was clear it had been taken over by the Forsworn. No flags were flying, and no bandits were lounging on the walls to demand anything. It just felt too quiet. Elayne took off her mask, not wanting to be associated with her Dragonborn self. Blue hair fluttering around her, she set off down the road wearing her ill-fitting dress.
“Halt!” A single woman yelled, as they approached the fortress gates. She was wearing a normal outfit, but the marks on her face and body betrayed her as one of the native Bretons of the Reach. “Don’t come any closer.”
“Hello!” Elayne waved. “I’m here to see Gwynabyth.”
“Gwynabyth?” The woman seemed to stare more deeply at Elayne. “Oh! You’re her niece Elayne! I didn’t recognize the hair. Come on. Welcome to fort Sungard.” She seemed much more cheerful, coming up to welcome them. Through the gaps in her outfit, Elayne could see Forsworn armor beneath it. The bones and furs were a giveaway. “She is in charge here, it’s been a while since we last saw you! Lost Valley hasn’t had fresh potion ingredients in too long!”
“Nice to see you too, Vyctara.” She barely remembered the woman’s name, only remembering now that they were closer. “Where is my aunt?”
Lydia’s hand was near the pommel of her sword, but relaxed as they were led inside. While the warpaint made everyone look scary, most of the Reachmen were just trying to survive. They knew Elayne, and their smiles were wide. Her Aunt came from the upper parts of the fort, her headdress more ornamental than the others. “Elayne!” She cheered. “I’ve missed you!” Her hug was strong.
“Aunt Gwynnie!” She said loudly, making the other Forsworn snicker. “I’ve got so much to tell you about!” Her nickname would earn any of them a lightning bolt if they tried to use it.
“Come on, you can tell me about your life. Who is your friend?” Her aunt was a shrewd woman. “She seems more warlike than your usual type of friend.”
“This is Lydia.” Elayne introduced. “My housecarl.” They were people of the Reach. They knew exactly what it meant to have a housecarl. A sworn sword. It meant you were a landed noble of some part of Skyrim. There was a collective glance around by the other Bretons. “I became a Thane for one of Skyrim’s Holds.”
“How?” Aunt Gwynabyth looked betrayed. “Why would you do that to us?!”
“Stop!” Elayne said. “It wasn’t because I chose it.” She stepped over towards a clear spot, before looking up at the mountain. Drawing in a deep breath, she released it into a Shout. Fire poured out of her, scarring the mountain and burning a few weeds upon the stones. But the fire did not spread further. It was too hot for that, and not sustained enough to catch anything else on fire. “I’m some Nordic hero meant to stop the dragons, Auntie. They made me a Thane of Whiterun for that.”
Instead of looking appalled or insulted, the older woman looked intrigued. “Well? The Nords can’t say we aren’t meant to be here, too. The Reach produced a Nordic hero! The Forsworn are not forgotten by the Divines.” The latter statement was for the rest of the people here, who looked suspicious even with the display. “Come inside, dear. We are just cleaning this fort up so that we can house women and children when the snows come. The tents over at Lost Valley won’t keep us warm when the snow comes.”
The Forsworn did this during the winter. They would quietly inhabit a ruin or location they could keep their people warm within, and leave as little evidence of their staying there as they could. Once spring came, they would move out. Elayne and Lydia followed her into a central space, where a cookfire burned merrily. Dusty crates and old pieces of furniture were around it. “Sorry for not telling you, Auntie.”
“I was worried when I didn’t hear from you for a long time. Thought you might have been caught by some war party.” Her face was like leather from spending so much time outside. Age lines bent as she smiled. “I was going to tell you to come and settle down this winter. You’ve got fine hips for bearing children, and I know a few men who will treat you right.” The smile slipped a little when she noticed something glittering near Elayne’s feet. “What are you doing in those shoes?”
“Ah.” She felt some color in her cheeks. “It’s a long story, Auntie. Perhaps you should listen a while.”
“Your Aunt Gwynabyth can make some juniper berry tarts while you share it all.” Lydia perked up at that. The woman had a sweet tooth. “It’s been almost three months since we saw you last! I bet you have so much to tell me!”
Elayne shared with her Auntie everything since Helgen. Well, perhaps not giving Belethor a blowjob, but nearly everything. The book, the elder scroll, and everything else. She waited until the end, taking out a small journal and tallying her thoughts. Her Forsworn bones and furs rattled as she finally sat down after the long tale, and a platter of food was set before them. “So, you are using a Daedric artifact to step between this world and another, with a different Dragonborn. The daedra demands a price from you whenever you use it, but hasn’t explained what happened to others who have used the book.” She noted another thing in her small journal. “While dangerous, it sounds like this other world has a lot less threats, or dangers ever since the other Dragonborn saved the world.”
“We don’t know how he did some of the things he did.” Lydia pointed out. “The book only seems to allow us to be in the world for a short time.”
“I was stuck there for days.” Elayne reminded Lydia.
“Days?” Lydia blinked. “It only took a few hours to solve that riddle and get back to you.”
“Time flows differently.” Gwynabyth noted. “How curious. I have a thought about this other world. You pay one price for your journey. But that journey seems to reward someone with your soft heart very little. From what I can tell of this other hero, he doesn’t seem the scrupulous sort. Dedicated to gold rather than glory or song.”
“People speak highly of him!”
“We spoke highly of Ulfric and his militia, too.” She pointed out. “People still sing praises for great men good or ill.”
“So you are saying he might be evil?”
“Hah!” Gwynabyth laughed. “Of course he could be! Good and evil are poor descriptions of people! Look at us and Markarth. I grew up in the richest part of that city, and was driven out as an adult. Was that evil? I felt it justified my actions with the Forsworn. Most of us simply want what was once ours to be returned. Your mother was raised in that house! And now some Silver-blood sleeps in a bed that your grandmother’s grandmother bore her children on.” She threw her arms up, the bones rattling on her wrist guards. “What happened to us was unfair, but it is not evil. It certainly wasn’t good, but it wasn’t evil. Stop letting your mind wander into Nordic thoughts!” She said forcefully. “This other Dragonborn doesn’t have your kind soul. Or perhaps he lacks your concern for others. Let an ego grow enough and good and evil stop mattering.”
“We aren’t here to discuss the other one’s ethics.” Lydia pointed out. “What idea did you have?”
“This other world seems like the question of the Forsworn and their future has been reached.” She notes. “I have a request of you, and an offer. You want to get enough power to convince Drascua to give you a piece of a daedric artifact. She won’t part with it for the world, Elayne. That’s how those Hagravens are. Cunning and avaricious bitches. If you want it, you’ll have to steal it or fight her for it.”
“Sounds like fun.”
“Drascua has only a few followers and no Briarhearts.” Gwynabyth informed them. “So you could probably take her. If, of course you are a real hero.”
“Auntie.” Elayne warned. “I’m paying a hefty price to become one.”
“And your people won’t forget it. I have a cunning plan.” She winked. “I’m going to mark down all of our sanctuaries and secret caches. This other world has already had their great hero be of use to them. I don’t believe in luck. Perhaps in fate, but not luck. This other world will have supplies and weapons you can use here. To trade for things here. Potions and poisons.” Gwynabyth stopped, holding up a hand. “Enchanted staves are what we do best. We don’t have much in the way of smithies or permanent blacksmiths. But we do enchant weapons and gear.”
“So you want me to steal from the Forsworn in the other world?”
“Your little heart is too good, Elayne.” Her aunt chided. “For once in your life take what belongs to you. A Breton hero would take what they need at the cost of all other’s needs. This other world is something you take information from without paying for it besides the book’s price? Then fully take advantage of it. I’ll open the book here. Tonight I’ll run to Lost Valley. I’ve got to deliver some of these alchemical ingredients, anyways. It’s safest to travel the Reach at night.”
“You’ll use the book?”
“You and your housecarl are going with me. And then taking every single thing of value from here to Lost Valley!” Gwynabyth smiled a predatory grin. She wasn’t a Forsworn shaman for nothing. “If your notes are accurate, I’ll open the book and see you in a few days. And you’ll be loaded with enough gold and gems to fund any kind of need! Armor, weapons, armies! You take what you need and you find any advantage you can get!”
“I’m not sure I agree with this plan.” Lydia considered. “That book takes a heavy price!”
“We don’t know for sure if you’ll be able to meet with us on the other side.”
“I might have my own motives.” Gwynabyth admitted. “I want to know what happened to the Reach in the other world. Knowledge is the only way we can win, and the Forsworn only have one leader that can unite us. Our King is alive somewhere, and as far as we know his descendants are dead.”
“So you want me to find out what happened?”
“I do.” She nodded. “Use this book this one time, for me. If you really are the hero you are supposed to be, fate will spin you back to us. And we will have given you all the supplies and powers that you need. Perhaps, if you can help us we can even give you something better.” Gwynabyth brightened. “If the Forsworn can get settled enough, we can help you fight the Dragons!”
It was a very nice offer, but Elayne wasn’t feeling perfectly happy about it. “I still need other ways to harm Alduin!”
“Other Daedric artifacts?” Her aunt seemed a bit pale at the thought.
“And a blade called Dragonbane.” She noted. “But I don’t know what that looks like.”
“Most of the Forsworn clans worship a daedra.” Gwynabyth noted with care.
“None of you worship the divines?” Lydia blurted out.
“Watch your tongue, Nord.” Her aunt said with vigor. “The divines have never smiled upon our people. We worship Hircine, Namira, Molag Bal and even Mehrunes Dagon.”
“But he invaded Tamriel!”
“So do all of the Daedra.” Elayne countered, trying to calm things down. “But in the Reach they believe that the torment and pain that are caused are things to be overcome. Reasons to fight on when others might be weak and stand down. The Forsworn don’t see the Daedra like the Mythic Dawn cult ever did.”
Lydia didn’t like it, but she pursed her lips. “You are my Thane.”
“I am not the most knowledgeable about Daedra. But I do know of those who are. At Lost Valley I will speak with the elders and find out if they know the location of any other artifacts. Brave we might be, but if we had any champions of the daedra the clan would never admit it.” Her aunt seemed concerned. “I am sure that if you find out what you can in the other world, but more importantly take everything you can carry. And then take more. Get every single object and powerful item you can find over there, and you’ll have what the other Dragonborn worked so long for. Just without as much suffering.”
“Give Lydia and I a few minutes to talk about it.” Elayne offered, standing up and heading for one of the barracks rooms. Her shoes echoed loudly across the stone of the old fort, Lydia’s heavy footfalls concealed behind her own. She could easily convince her aunt to part with another shoe out here, but for some reason Elayne liked whatever these shoes did to her feet. Her ankles still hurt sometimes, but somehow she felt they were worth it. “I want your opinion.” She whispered, once they were in the old barracks.
“You already seem to have made a decision.” Lydia said sourly. “You want to use the book.”
“My aunt isn’t telling us something. I think she knows more than she is letting on.”
“Then why isn’t she telling us?” Lydia countered. “You’re family!”
“Her mother is one of Lost Valley’s Hagravens. My grandmother is a Hagraven. Please don’t tell anyone.” Elayne whispered. She barely accepted it at times. “And I think Gwynabyth has to make a deal with her for my sake. That’s why she wants powerful items.”
“Then they might know where more artifacts are?”
“Many of the Hagravens are as immortal as Mer. If there are any who would know or remember, they have long lives and longer memories. I think there are a few who have been around since the Second era. Though they are jealously guarded by the Forsworn.”
“And what about Drascua?” Lydia whispered.
“I don’t know. I barely ever spoke to any of them, and they want me to be something I am not.” Elayne muttered. “A spy for their cause, and if I am the Dragonborn it’s only a matter of time before they ask me to do something for them.”
“So that’s a foregone conclusion?” Lydia considered. “By showing them your status as Dragonborn, you’ve just gotten involved with the Reach’s rebellion?”
“My hair is blue, Lydia! I can’t hide that with magic, ink or oils right now. So yes, I have to show them what I am! I can’t learn magic from the College of Winterhold, and there are few people who can teach me more. Court mages can show you the basics, but as I get better and better the teachers become few in number. The Forsworn embrace magic, and I can learn from them. We just need to find a way to leverage the Hagravens.”
“The book is your answer, isn’t it.”
“It’s damned useful!”
“We are going to trust your Forsworn aunt with this book, the only way back and forth between our world and this other one. Price or not, I think that’s a bad idea!”
“Lydia, how hard is it to trust her?”
“My parents died fighting in the Markarth incident.” Lydia said coldly. “I was raised in the guard without them. So, for me? I find trusting any of them very difficult.”
“But you can trust me, can’t you?”
“You aren’t afraid of anything.” Lydia admitted. “Dragons, Dremora and Daedra don’t even worry you. But I do agree with your aunt on one thing. You are too kind of heart. Even those bandits back at Cracked Tusk, we took the time to place enough gold on each body for the burial rights. You won’t take more than you feel is necessary, or look for profit anywhere.” She grumbles. “That’s the reason you’re always scraping for septims.”
“But it always works out.” Elayne said, feeling a bit attacked. “We always win in the end.”
“Tell that to the other world’s Lydia!” Her housecarl bellowed at full volume. “She died for her Dragonborn!”
Elayne didn’t know what to say. It was true. “But I don’t want you to give your life for me!”
“Every day we have is a gift from Akatosh.” Lydia seemed to remember from somewhere. “Every breath a gift from Kyne. So long as my blade is yours, I will treasure those moments. I am your housecarl. My life is and ever shall be forfeit to the needs of yours. That doesn’t mean I will throw that life away.”
“You think I am doing that with Captured Dreams, don’t you.” It wasn’t a question.
“I think we are wasting time chasing another world while our own has all of the answers you already seek! We are paying a price for knowledge we could earn fairly.”
“The other Dragonborn took three years of adventuring before Belethor said he saved Skyrim from all of its enemies!” Elayne countered. “I’ve known I am the Dragonborn for two months! Most of that was spent running around for the Greybeards! If this can save people faster, then so be it! That world has answers I seek, and there will be ways we can benefit.”
“I,” Lydia seemed torn. “I accept your reasons for using the book. To stop others from suffering and dying at the hands of the Dragons. But if we are going to trust your aunt, I want some form of guarantee.”
“She taught me everything about Skyrim, Lydia. Fighting. The way I fight and the way I do things, she taught me. How to live off the land, when to fight and when not to fight? You’ve had that guarantee all along.”
Lydia paced along the room. She seemed to put a lot of thought into it, judging by how often she kicked a bucket from one wall to another. “Only if you promise me that you will take anything of value you can in the other world.”
Elayne blinked. “What kind of promise is that?”
“I know you. You have a good soul. So while we are in the other world, when we use that book, I want you to treat it as a life or death situation. You take any advantage you can, and we steal anything that can hold value in this world. If you promise to do that, I’ll go with you. And,” She skewed her face. “Trust your aunt with the Elder Scroll and the Black Book.”
Elayne gave Lydia a hug, which the Nord accepted. “Thank you, Lydia.”
“You are very welcome. I thank you for wanting my opinion. A more brutish Thane would simply expect obedience.” When the hug broke both women returned to the main room, where Gwynabyth waited with some wine.
“So? What’s your plan?” The Forsworn shaman asked them.
“We accept your help.” Elayne said. “But you’ll have to carry some extra weight on your hike. I want to carry as much as I can in the other world.”
“Anything to help you, Elayne.” She nodded. “You’re a hero, but you’re also a woman of the Reach. Though we are a fractured and tribal people, we protect our own. Especially when someone rises above the normal riff raff and does more than rattle some bones and obsidian together.” The older woman smiled, her age lines pulling across her cheeks. “Now, give me everything you need me to carry, and I’ll send you out from one of the nearby outcroppings.”
Lydia handed over as much of their loot and supplies as she could. Until their bags were down to food supplies, emergency potions and spare clothing. All three of them went back towards the road, finding a gentle outcropping with a view of the area. “I’m going to have to get two people to carry all this with me.” Gwynabyth smiled. “Alright, Elayne. Show me what you’ve got.” The Elder Scroll was left in a chest back in the fort to keep it away from Captured Dreams.
Lydia held onto one arm, and Gwynabyth the other. Captured Dreams unrolled from its wrapping, the black binding sucking in the daylight. Elayne opened it, the page only left with one single line. “The Library of Epigraph carries its own currency.”
The world swirled around them, a few details changing around them. The grass was different, and there was a new building on the horizon. It looked large, almost like a village unto itself. The fort behind them was stationed with Imperial soldiers and flags. It looked clean, and well taken care of. Gwynabyth stumbled slightly, unused to the feeling.
“This doesn’t appear different.” She murmured. “Other than the soldiers inhabiting the fort. I’ve told both of you where to find all of the secret caches from here to Cradle Stone tower. Take as much as you can carry, and especially grab the war staves. They don’t weigh very much, but they will impress the Hagravens. Take from that village, up there! Just stop fooling around with these visits to this world. Take what you need. Take what doesn’t belong to you. Or else this world will suffer from the wasted effort.” Gwynabyth took the Black Book. “I’ll see the both of you in three days at my tent in Lost Valley. Meet me there. It hardly ever moves, even though the seasons change. If you’ve forgotten, it is right next to the old alchemy structure that the ruin has.” The woman grinned. “I’ll be there. You both get a move on.”
“We’re putting a lot of trust in you.” Lydia murmured. “Please don’t let us down.”
“I’ve been a Forsworn for twenty years, housecarl.” That was better than Nord. “I can get through those mountains without trouble tonight. You just use that brain of yours and help Elayne get every ounce of value she can from her time here. Those Imperials are already giving me chills. They are actively patrolling, which can’t be good. Keep off the road. Go over the mountain.” Her hands pointed to the hills nearby. “There is a goat trail up that mountain, and past that village. Stay low, stay out of sight. And steal any books that seem new or suspicious!” The older woman grinned. “Don’t die out there, Elayne.”
“You too, Auntie Gwynnie!” Elayne whispered, starting to walk. Lydia sighed, laughing once they were out of earshot.
“Gwynnie?” She asked, chuckling.
“She liked to spoil me as a child. Anyone else would take a lightning bolt to the face if they tried to call her that.” Elayne laughed along with her. “Let’s make this trip count.” For some reason, her collar felt heavier as she said that.
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Skyrim: Plaything