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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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Lost Valley was better than Hendraheim but also worse. It looked like it had been abandoned for a long while. Tent poles were still standing in some places, but the furs and coverings had been taken for profit and salvage elsewhere. But the eerie part of it all was the bones. People had been piled upon the bonfires, and the small shrines to Hircine and Namira had been removed. Or destroyed, she couldn’t find any evidence of it. A sabercat had taken residence in the half-collapsed ruin that her aunt had used as a storehouse for food and ingredients, the walls stripped bare. The shelves were dusty and full of cobwebs, and rats inhabited the lowest reaches of the Redoubt.
Some of the secret caches had been uncovered, exposed and raided. Whether by her own people or treasure hunters, some of them had been cleared. But at least half were still untouched. Staves, potions, gold and gems tumbled into their bags to the point that Lydia was leaving hers behind at her aunt’s hut posts, and they were traveling together with their bags to get more gold and valuables from the upper reaches of Lost Valley. Chests were obvious, but small boulders were not. An entire cave system was hidden behind old iron grates in the aquaducts, and infested with spiders. She and Lydia got bitten many many times by the small ones, but eventually dragged out a couple of staves of wall of flames. One of the more powerful Destruction spells out there, Elayne whistled when she figured out what they did.
It left a scar thirty feet wide and burned for a minute or two before the mana ran out. In that time, Elayne had promptly screamed and run for cover, while Lydia laughed hard from her position of safety. That was when the burst of magic came. It started like a chill wind, causing her skin to goosebump. In the area she knew her aunt’s tent to be, a shadow seemed to grow, until the light of afternoon sun was showing almost a whole person. Then it filled in, the darkness letting free the form of her Aunt. While it didn’t make noise, the feeling of magic washed over her.
“Namira forgive.” Gwynabyth murmured. She looked around, seeing only the signs of the dead. “It looks worse than we found out after we escaped Markarth. Elayne?”
“Aunt Gwynnie!” Elayne yelled, trotting over to hug her. “You came earlier than we expected!”
“I was running half the night!” She said, looking affronted. “We barely got back and started in the morning.”
“But you are here!”
“What are you wearing.” Her aunt cackled. “Oh my gods what are these things?”
Lydia groaned, carefully walking over. “They’re locked upon us in three places. I hope you brought lockpicks.”
She cackled harder. “Oh my bones, this is adorable! I can’t wait for the rest of the Forsworn to see it!” She leaned over, biting her lip and wiping tears off her face. “Something like this? Oh, one of the Hagravens knows the spell.”
“We have to see the Hagravens?” Lydia closed her eyes.
“Of course you will. You want to be the hero of the world? If our council declares you a hero, then you’ll have your army. For the dragons, for Skyrim, for whatever you need. Just don’t expect us to forget the asking price. Hospitality is one thing, but fighting another woman’s battle is not my comfort. Now, let’s get you some materials. Though by the looks of it you’ve done everything except the leap.”
“The leap?”
Gwynabyth pointed at the waterfall. “The Bard’s Leap. Underneath the platform is a lot of materials. So, go climb up the mountain and get it for me!”
“But you just got here.” Elayne muttered.
“I just ran all damned night for you, so you better run up that hill, or else!” Her auntie let some sparks fly between her fingers. Elayne chose to run, as survival was far better than taking a lightning bolt to the ass. She moved all the way up to the thin platform, the old rotten wood hanging over the waterfall.
“Underneath this?” Elayne murmured, her vision swimming as she looked down. Carefully, she got down on her knees, the water from the falls spraying her thighs and ankles. Underneath the rotted wood, there was a small cavity. Her hands closed around the bag her aunt had promised was there, the heavy object shoved deep under the wood structure. The wood cracked, her weight enough to cause it to buckle. More frustratingly, it was keeping the sack from being drawn out. Giving a mighty pull, the sack came out. But she was sliding off the edge of the summit. Panicking, she screamed out a dragon shout to help her. The whirlwind sprint should instead pushed her further off the edge, and now she was falling towards the slim pool of water at the bottom.
A few moments later, she hit the water. And somehow, she lived. Sputtering, she got to the surface and gasped for air, awkwardly swimming from the depths towards the stairs. Her aunt and Lydia were there, scrambling into the water. “Gods! Are you alright?” Her housecarl screamed. Gwynabyth was far more quiet, looking scared and ashen.
“I’m okay.” Elayne said, the tight dress even worse when wet. She was shivering. She got cold very easily, and diving into mountain spring waters was a recipe for shivers. “But I got it!”
They pulled her from the water, towards the spot where Captured Dreams lay open. Collectively, they all shivered. Even Lydia was cold. “Did you find out?” Gwynabyth asked. “What happened to them all?” She had her arms wrapped around herself.
“The Forsworn were hunted down. Every man, woman and child.” Elayne explained. “By the Dragonborn and the daughter of Madanach. Who was the last to die, with any survivors being taken away out of the Reach.”
“Hunted down? By two people?” Gwynabyth scoffed. “That isn’t possible.”
“I have a book full of dates, and numbers of Forsworn killed on those days. And their armor to prove it. There were hundreds of sets of Forsworn armor in the place. A monument to the consumed. They would take patrols before the actual villages. Stalking down the hunters first before going after the rest.” Elayne said. “And fighting that Dragonborn? It doesn’t matter if you brought an army. He would end anything less than the full might of the Forsworn in Lost Valley.”
“You’ve got big britches to fill, then.” Gwynabyth shuddered. “Gods, that water is frigid. Come on, let’s go back using that book.”
Lydia and Elayne huddled together with her aunt, as Elayne pressed the rune on the book to return. All of them held heavy bags of gear in their free hands. The world around them brightened, and in a flash they were within her tent. A tent with a warm fire, and blankets and comforts. All three of the women sighed in relief, and huddled around the fire until they felt less cold. Elayne looked all over herself, trying to find the price. The book always demanded a price, but she wasn’t seeing it. Lydia’s was clear. The maid dress could barely conceal the new additions to her nipples, the soul gems tenting the fabric. Her aunt looked to have anklets and thigh bands exactly like her, but in Forsworn armor it didn’t seem to bother her at all. Hers also seemed to be iron, and not moonstone. But try as she might, she didn’t see any additions to her body or form.
Gwynabyth stood up, staring at her legs. “Well. Without a blacksmith I’ll have to wear this getup like a badge of honor. I’ll go get someone who I know can get you out of those dresses. Then we can bring you before the full council.” Gwynabyth dug into a chest. “Ah! Here, housecarl. You’ll fit in around here better if you’re dressed.” She handed Lydia a set of Forsworn armor, patting her on the shoulder before stepping out of the tent.
“I should just-” Lydia started saying, as Elayne cut her off.
“It will be better on your new additions.” She interrupted. “I promise it might feel nicer, and you can at least travel through the hills without getting killed.”
“I’ve been thinking about that, my thane.” Lydia changed the subject. “I think I should carry as much as I can back to Breezehome. Empty your pockets and let you get more gathered. As well as keep the Elder Scroll out of the hands of your aunt’s people.”
Elayne considered that, huddled near the fire. “It would be safer to keep the other pieces of the Razor away from them, too. I don’t always trust that they would share my goals.”
“Let’s organize our bags.” Lydia agreed. She took the weapons, armor, jewelry and the elder scroll. Impossible to hide, but it was clearly there. Four feet long golden scrolls are not easy to conceal, so they didn’t try. The pieces of the Razor were concealed at the very bottom of her pack. The hilt was hidden with some necklaces, while the shattered pieces of the blade were in the bag of soul gems. They were just hashing out who should carry a piece of gold ore when the tent flaps opened once again, and Gwynabyth stepped inside. “You ready?” Elayne nodded, and a second figure stepped into the tent.
“Where is my grand-daughter!” The snide voice of her grandmother came. “Morgausa calls!” A hagraven was the height of Forsworn power in the Reach. They did not ask permission, they demanded attention and obedience.
“Right here, Grandmother.” Elayne waved. “We appreciate you coming to our aid.” There was little warmth between them. Elayne’s mother had married a merchant and gotten out from under her thumb long ago, and Morgausa had never forgiven her. Or Elayne, for that matter. Gwynabyth had told her late one night that losing her sons to the war and all but one of her daughters to High Rock made her become a hagraven.
“Your thanks are received.” Morgausa’s yellow eyes moved over each of their forms. “And you are marked by the magic of oblivion. Powerful sorcery has been used upon you. And you have been marked by it.” She took one strand of blue hair into her claws. “The colors of Namira or Molag Bal.”
“Not Hermaeus Mora?” She questioned.
“No. The power you use has its sources in another prince. But these powers are not small.” The Hagraven was making Lydia’s eyebrows rise straight to her hairline. She had never been so close to one of them, Elayne could tell. “I will do my best to remove the things that bother you. And your pet Nord.” Her yellow eyes passed over Lydia dismissively. “Sit.”
Elayne sat in front of her grandmother, who squatted. Her bird like feet didn’t let her sit down the same way anymore. “The dress is locked around the biceps and waist.”
There was a heavy clank, as the collar around her neck broke. Elayne’s eyes went wide, watching the sections of iron hit the dirt. “No descendant of mine belongs to a Nord. Alive or dead.” Morgausa declared. “Let me get you taken care of. Do you want to keep the dress?”
“Yes.” Elayne answered immediately. It just felt right, in a way. She needed to know more about that world, and it might help. “Though I don’t want that.” She motioned to the broken collar on the floor. Her neck felt wonderful without it. Morgausa’s claws expertly cast spells, the different locks on the dress popping open one by one. The shoes were released in another burst of spells. She was free of it! Morgausa gave once glance at the moonstone bands around her ankles and thighs, before scoffing. “Elfin magicks. These I don’t think I can remove.”
Elayne nodded. “You still have freed me from the worst of it, Grandmother.”
“Get dressed. The council will want to see you.” Morgausa began working on Lydia, whose moonstone collar was also too difficult to remove. Gwynabyth’s leg bands could be removed, but by that time Morgausa was nearly out of magicka. She looked tired, for having spent so much time casting. The items must have been powerful if she was feeling drained by it. Elayne went into her bag, looking at all of the ill fitting dresses she owned. Gwynabyth reached in for her, drawing out the fur and bone bundle from where she kept it in her bag.
“You want their help? You’re a daughter of the Reach.” Her aunt insisted. So, in her small tent she and Lydia got dressed in Forsworn armor. Twin glittering gems hung from their navels. Elayne blushed at the armor, feeling like everything was on display. Especially the moonstone bands around her thighs and ankles. Just to be annoying, she decided to wear one of her pairs of high heels. The moonstone looked good on her, and she just seemed to like her feet being arched as time went on.
“Auntie, can you send Lydia back to Whiterun first? She’s carrying all of the things I need to keep things going.”
“You’re splitting up?” Her aunt seemed to consider that.
“Lydia is taking supplies to Whiterun, and I’ll meet up with her later. I need to confront Drascua and find other solutions to fighting Alduin.”
Morgausa nodded. “There are many things we could consider doing. The Daedra are erstwhile allies of their worshippers. But those secrets are for full members of the Forsworn.”
“You can’t hold her to that!” Gwynabyth hissed. “Not when she hasn’t spilled blood for the cause! Or fought the Nords! Her mother wasn’t with us when the Reach fell!”
“I know that better than all others.” Morgausa spat. “I shall not share anything with the unworthy. Prove you are a daughter of the Reach, or else. Now matter your words, we shall not listen to outsiders. Useful you might be as an agent who supplies us, but the Forsworn learned long ago that there is no compromise with the others we share this land with. They will break their promises to us, or shun us. Turn us out of our ancestral halls and drive us from our homes! No, I will not share anything with an outsider. Even family.” The Hagraven’s eyes were lit with some kind of feeling. Anger, perhaps. “Especially family.” She repeated, quieter.
The Hagraven left the tent, and Elayne realized that she had been grinding her teeth. Gwynabyth was at her side, holding her shoulder. “Don’t take her words to heart. She loves you.”
“That is love?” Lydia questioned, from the back of the tent.
“Hagravens become empowered by dark magicks. They stop feeling many emotions that we consider normal. For her? That was love. Morgausa loves us enough to warn us, rather than just telling you to leave the camp.”
“What was she like before she was a hagraven?” Elayne dared to ask. It was one of those rare times that her aunt was willing to talk about the old times.
“Not much better.” Gwynabyth admitted. “But she lost all of her sons. Her line is ending here in the Reach. It weakens her position with the other Hagravens. I haven’t born any sons and my husband is dead. Her sons are dead. Your mother and her other sister are over in High Rock playing at being important. Which leaves the only male cousin you have left to continue her line would be your cousin Alberic.”
Alberic was a whining prat. A mother’s son by any measure of things. Morgausa would never recognize him as anything while he was a blithering idiot. “So I’m the only one she can expect her line to carry through?”
“You admitted you’re some kind of hero. Now she’s worried you’re going to waste those child bearing hips fighting another person’s fight. So it’s a certain kind of love.” Gwynabyth was adjusting the armor, making sure it fit correctly. It felt wrong on Elayne. Besides her massive ass being displayed, she lacked the tribal markings of her clan. She didn’t look like one of the Forsworn, and she shivered. She didn’t grow up here, among the Reachmen. She hadn’t been shaped by their laws and customs. Only the slim bond of family gave her reason to connect. “I’ll find a horse for your Housecarl to ride home with. Bring the staves and any kind of rare ingredients for the meeting. And wear your mask.” Gwynabyth smiled. “It’ll remind them that you are better than they think.” She hadn’t taken off the Dragon Priest mask, and ever since she got that moonstone circlet stuck on her head, she had just been content to keep her face hidden. Helmets just didn’t want to cooperate with it.
Lydia gave her a nudge almost by surprise. “Be careful, my thane. I’ll be in Whiterun and at your service whenever you are ready.”
“I should be with you soon. In a few weeks, at the most.”
“Send a letter, then.” The nord laughed. “It’ll reach me faster.”
A short hug was the only thing they exchanged before both separated. Lydia onto a horse, and she up the hill to the top of Lost Valley. The Forsworn were well aware that something was going on, and all of them seemed to notice her fat ass moving up the hill. Maybe it was the blue hair, the navel ring or the heeled shoes. Her mind screamed that they were staring at her pale skin and bare thighs. But she made her march of shame up the hill, the blush hidden from by the dragon priest mask.
The very top of the Lost Valley was where all of their rituals were performed. She hadn’t been up there very often, but Lost Valley was a very powerful clan. Three Hagravens were in its members, which meant that the full rituals could be performed. Other clans would come and entreat them for powers that required more than one hagraven. So all in all, her aunt was part of a rich clan. All three hagravens were waiting for her at the top of the ruins, along with all of the older shamans. Two Briarhearts, their skin purple and dead stood alongside them. All of the crowd seemed to be waiting for her, the hagravens standing at the highest point. Younger Forsworn hunters and members of other clans here on business stood below her, and her aunt stood by her side.
Her grandmother looked angry, but that was normal. The other two hagravens looked equally mad, but that might be normal too. They were the powers of rage and destruction personified, as some would say. “I bring Elayne, daughter of Gilliane, daughter of Morgausa before the council. Please hear what she has to say.” Her aunt declared, giving her a nod.
Elayne reached into her pack, drawing out bloodied headdresses of the Forsworn. The first piece of evidence for what she would declare. Some looked surprised, recognizing their own individual markings on some of the ones placed. One shaman even glanced at her own, to confirm. From her bag, she also brought out multiple journals. First there was Eola’s, and then the family history belonging to Madanach. “My name is Elayne. Though I was not raised here in the Reach like you, I came to join my family. My father is a merchant of Wayrest. My mother was born in Markarth, before it fell. Though she left and forsook her clan to find fortune elsewhere, I returned. More importantly, I am a walker of the planes of Oblivion. I have stepped between the realms, and stolen knowledge from a future yet unknown. As such, I bring warnings of a future that may yet be.”
Elayne was a Breton. She was the daughter of a merchant. And she had days to think about what she had to say to this group of people. “I have walked the plane of Oblivion to take from that future the information to prove that it may yet happen. I am the Dragonborn, a hero spun from time to stop the rise of the Dragons. To end the life of their leader, Alduin!” Her voice carried across the gathered men and women of the Reach. From her bag, she drew out the war staves from the other world, and laid out each one by one. “I bring the buried weapons of war for the Forsworn, which were left buried. Their owners never got the chance to use them.”
“Do you demand something of the Forsworn? Or do you just gloat at your own prowess?” One of the Hagravens screeched. It was their way, at least of being respectful.
“I demand their aid. To fight the Dragons, and to the calamities which shall surely follow in their wake. For this is not the first trouble. Others will come. But I do not demand from the Forsworn people recklessly. I bring you something that can challenge the perils you now face. More than the promise of battle.” She held up the book of genealogy. “This is the personal genealogy of Madanach, going back to the Longhouse Emperors that once ruled from the Reach! And it states equivocally that he has a surviving heir. The Reach’s line of dynastic inheritance is not at an end.” She set it down, as the collective group of Forsworn seemed to be waiting on baited breath. “I know the name and location of the last Princess of the Reach.”
“You bring this before the Forsworn?” The oldest Hagraven noted. “Is this your complete demands?”
“To reiterate: I demand your help in fighting the dragons and whatever other threats are of the same scale. I will not use the Forsworn and draw my family into wars that can be avoided. I won’t involve them in fights outside the realm that already puts them at risk. I only ask that you become part of the solution to fix them, rather than a bunch of saltwives sitting on a fence watching the battle be decided!”
“You wish for warriors?” One of the shamans asked. “What else?”
“I need tools to defeat a creature that is the literal son of Akatosh himself. I need a way to harm an Aedra directly. I need spells suited for the darkest arts and the highest forms of war. Secrets that can assist me and only me prevent the destruction of this world. Alduin is the sign of a dragon break. An end time. If he wins, all lives end. The Reach will end in the hands of the Silver bloods and the Nords. I need anything that will help me stop a god itself.”
The oldest of the Hagravens had more wrinkles than the others. She seemed to loosen her face. “You have the blood of dragons? A Dragon-born?” She grinned. “Let us help you, child. There are few indeed that know how to injure a god. Few indeed. But the coven of hagravens have been learning from the Daedra and Aedra for thousands of years. Secrets we have. Power we have. But we will not do such a thing on a promise alone. Show us your power, Elayne, daughter of Gilliane. Bring us this lost daughter of the Reach. We make this vow before the Forsworn. If you bring unto us this heir, we shall promise unto you the full power of the Forsworn. Warriors, spells, and forbidden arts buried deep.” The three Hagravens all seemed to agree. “It is true you are no blooded daughter of the Forsworn. But as you stand amongst us you seem more capable than many. To walk Oblivion to secure our aid is a daring prospect. Especially for one so young. But this Dragonblood, if it truly exists in your veins may be the strength that defines you.”
“I can show you, if you would like.” Elayne offered. She took in a deep breath, and looked up at the skies. The shout she chose was fire breath, something iconic. Dragons of old were known to breath fire. The pillar of fire rushed into the sky, her shout echoing into the air and making all of the Forsworn wince.
Chills ran down her spine as something else in the mountains screamed, an identical shout. A second pillar of fire roared out from the heights above, and wings flapped as it grew ever closer. “Dragon!” Some of the Forsworn called. “It’s a Dragon!” Many people ran for cover, but Elayne made eye contact with Morgausa. Her grandmother was looking at her expectantly.
“Stand your ground!” She was almost surprised she was the one who said it. “Ice spells first! Take cover from its breath!” Elayne reached into her bag, drawing out a couple of potions of frost and flame resistance. Drinking both, she drew her enchanted dwarven sword. “Fight with me this day, and see what we live in fear of!”
Like a boulder rolling down the mountains, the dragon drew ever closer. It had eyes only for Elayne. It was coming right for her, screaming death threats. Taking a deep breath, she let it come. Arrows and spells were striking it, and the dragon only seemed to want her. It got hit by spells, poisons and far too much. The dragon was small, the kind she had been able to kill with the help of Lydia. Against thirty Forsworn? The creature was dead before it hit the ground. But it seemed to want to take her with it. It put it’s entire body weight as a rock, with her as the target. When it did hit the ground, it was already burning to ash. She screamed at it, with enough force to stop all of its momentum. Her throat felt raw, but inches in front of her was the skull of the dragon. It’s soul was gone, and she had taken it. But the rest of the Forsworn were staring at her in awe. They saw her do it.
Elayne cleared her throat, looking at the hagravens. “I am sorry for attracting the attention of the dragon. I, Elayne accept your oath and offer. I shall bring you the daughter of Madanach.”
“We shall take of these bones, and design for you a token that all Forsworn may recognize you.” The hagravens walked forward to the still steaming bones. “We don’t know of a spell that can strip the flesh that quickly. And neither should it be possible.” Morgausa was smiling. It looked smug, almost too long of a grin. “The Reach once had a hero. Pray you don’t end up facing the same end.”
“I will not, grandmother.” Elayne whispered, as the other Forsworn came out to look at the corpse of the dragon. “But I would appreciate any help I can get.”
“Manners and cunning!” The oldest hagraven cackled. “Your line surprises us, Morgausa. We thought it rotten and empty of promise.”
Elayne met her grandmother’s eyes. There was a sense of camaraderie there. Some part of her immediately understood what kind of treatment they both must receive. “There is one other thing I have need of. Something that belongs to Drascua.”
“Her eye?” The hagravens cackled, a sound that made her want to run far, far away. “You play with fire, for that. Drascua replaced her eye with the stone of Mehrunes Dagon. She sees what he sees, now. She is one of his favorites. She will not part with it.”
“Then you won’t mind if I take it?”
“Dagon would demand no less.” Morgausa grinned, teeth showing. “Her coven is nearly empty, and no men have joined it. Only a few of her brood remain, and only stay with her out of obligation. Her life has value as a shamaness of Mehrunes Dagon. But if you have more need of it than her, the Reach understands. Life and death are coinciding in their requirements. Violence is assured for her and you. Though we must certainly safeguard our prize.” Morgausa clicked her tongue, and one of the shamans with a glittering headdress stepped forwards. “Gather a group of hunters. Guarantee the safety of this one, as she travels.”
Elayne now had more friends. Of course, those friends thought she should run around with half her ass showing. So, not exactly the best of friends. But as she left Lost Valley that night, she had the company of five Forsworn. All of whom would be with her until she had accomplished her goal. And also help her with Drascua. It was almost better than she had hoped. It almost felt like she was family.
“I wish I could fill a skirt half as well as she could.” She heard one of the hunters whisper to another. “Now those are child bearing hips.” Besides the ass she was sure everyone was staring at. Gods, this is why she didn’t become one of the Forsworn when she showed up. At least her blushing could be hidden behind that mask.
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Skyrim: Plaything