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Skyrim: Plaything	By : GE_The_Beast Category: +A through F > Elder Scrolls - Skyrim Views: 21453 -:- 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
- 37
- 38
- 39
“Before I say anything in regards to our current situation, I wanted to express my sincere thanks to the Vigilants of Stendarr.” Baalgruf stated. There was no crown upon his head, but the stains of blood upon his armor showed that he was a warrior king in truth. During the night he and the rest of his wedding party resisted an attack through the porch at Dragonsreach. Wuuthrad was still upon his shoulders. At his side was the Emperor, along with his bride. Irileth looked radiant, somehow proud to be covered in the gore of last night’s conflict. She had a weapon on her belt that felt horrid to look upon. Elayne could tell it was Daedric just by the dark color of the curved weapon and its handle. “Their knowledge of the rites of Arkay have prevented all of our fallen heroes from rising again to fight us. It would be too gruesome a cost to fight our brothers and sisters after they gave their lives to allow ours to continue. We honor those who have fallen. Last night we defeated a foe more ancient than Tiber Septim. It seems only right that we honor those who have died with a statue or marker. But I cannot say that our sons and daughters can yet go home to drink toasts to this battle.”
Baalgruf folded his arms, a softer pose. “We still have Alduin to kill. Our scouts report that all of Eastmarch is aflame. The smoke will be here soon, thick enough to blacken the skies. The dragons are leading our noble dead against us. The draugr are going to be coming in their thousands. Our very ancestors shall come! But if they were alive right now, they would demand that we fight. That we put our lives on the line. We have perhaps a day before they come. There aren’t many trees in Whiterun, and we are critically short on arrows and potions. Anyone with ingredients, or uncrafted bits for arrows? We are going to need them. Harkon destroyed our siege weapons in the battle last night, before his demise at the hands of the Dragonborn.”
Elayne was still wearing her Forsworn armor. She had never put anything else on after the battle, helping pick up the bodies and move the dead or heal the injured. She was exhausted, but could feel many eyes upon her. Or maybe it was just the fact that her ass looked amazing in this getup. Looking around, she could see more than one man quickly averting his gaze. But the comment about arrows and potions had her thinking. “-Advance forces will be going to Valtheim Towers to slow the draugr march. Ditches mean nothing against the Draugr. What I want is for every able bodied man and woman to make tall piles of rocks. Walls and anything else we can raise to make places that we can take cover from the breath of dragons. Whiterun will be a tomb. The entire city is made of wood, and we are evacuating. My people are going south, to Riverwood. From there they will be going towards what’s left of Helgen. Jarl Siddgeir claims that there are only a few bandits in between there and the road to Bruma.”
He took a deep breath. “I’m going to fight and give everything I have in the name of Tsun and Shor. But those who cannot fight should not be forced to be dragged into the conflict. Children and the infirm must go. There are still plenty of vampires and daedra on the loose from Solitude to Winterhold. We cannot go north to rescue anyone yet. Alduin is coming for us. Ulfrik died last night, a hero. You who followed him? Aye, even myself recognize that he fought well. He showed no fear against something that likely has killed more than all of us combined. He fought as he lived. And he died as one of us. I have no doubt that his soul has moved on to Sovngard. Where we yet may go!” He glared at the crowd. “Yes, our hearts are heavy with grief! I have buried two bastards and one son! One wife may yet rise as a Draugr to fight against me! It turns my stomach the worst kind of way to think that I may have to defend myself against the blade of a loved one. We will bury more dead before this is done. But by Shor, Tsun and Kyne we will not be the weak link! All of Tamriel is watching us now! The Empire is with us, and the longer the dragons wait the more legionaries come to our aid! Our lands will not be burned or trampled! Not while any good soul still draws breath! This may be a funeral but there is blood still unshed! Alduin lives! I’ve read the book!” There was some grumbling about said book, as there always was.
“The gods saw fit to give us a Dragonborn in this time of need. I will trust in her, as each of you should trust in me. I will not be the last crowned king of skyrim. I will not see the end of my days tied to the end of all life! Tamriel does not end with us!” Baalgruf held up one fist, clenching it. “I fear not death, for only Sovngarde awaits me!” The answering yell and shout was carried by Bretons, Dunmer, Orcs and Nords alike. But most especially the Nords.
The eulogies continued into the late morning, as the deaths were revealed. Ulfrik was not the only one who died in the night. Igmund of Markarth died from a stray arrow. No one seemed surprised, but the arrow was thankfully a vampiric made one. That would be a problem later. Jarl Korir was so heavily wounded that it was worried he wouldn’t make it. The lack of potions meant that his life was at risk. Jarl Elisef was injured at the wedding, and hadn’t yet woken up. A lot of people were worried about her. Strangely, the death that she was most surprised by was Amaund Motierre. He was the first to die to the vampires attacking Dragonsreach. Elayne felt no pity for him.
“Excuse me.” She grabbed hold of one of the runners for the Imperial Legion. “Can you get me a few people? Astrid, She’s a Nord from around Falkreath. As well as Brynjolf. I need them and all of their associates to meet me at the Whiterun stables.” The buildings were basically empty now. By the time her shorter stride allowed her to reach the place, it was packed by darkened leather clad figures.
“Well, Lass?” Brynjolf called. “You did it.”
“A fine work, sister.” Astrid complimented. “But what draws us here?”
Elayne shut the door behind her, Serana keeping pace. The vampire hadn’t said a word since the battle. She hadn’t even flinched as the bitch tamer was reapplied. She was probably the one most hurt by all of this. “Brynjolf, you wondered how I could walk Oblivion. Well, I have a plan. It’s not the nicest of plans and it involves theft on a scale that I have never done before.”
“Well.” Brynjolf chuckled. “Anything to know how you crossed the entire province in less than two days.”
She moved a wood block into the center of the room, casting a candlelight spell for ambiance. Then she pulled out Captured Dreams. “This is how I walk Oblivion. Back in the second era, someone fought Molag Bal and tore some of his skin from him. It ended up in the hands of Hermaues Mora. The binding of this book comes from one daedric prince, and the pages from another. When you read what is on the pages, you are transported across Oblivion. I’ve been using this to go back and forth, and each time I pay a price for doing so. All of my things I can’t remove? From this.”
“Do the Daedra know you are crossing over using their power?” Astrid asked carefully. “Or do you have to defend yourself after using this?”
“They know. And they know me quite well enough, thanks for asking.” She headed off that question. “I don’t want to get into the details. But I want to have the best chance against Alduin that I can. The other world I walk through? Magnus moves faster through the sky. So one day there is roughly a few hours here.”
“Which lets you travel faster.” Brynjolf put together. “But you would use this all of the time if it wasn’t for the price of using it.”
“Right. But in this moment? I need what the other world has. Weapons, potions, and all the tools of war that it owns.”
“How much are we talking?” Gabriella asked, from her position deepest in the stables.
“As much as each of us can carry, and then some. Whatever you are in contact with comes with you when you use the book. Though, um, you might want to be naked when you go back. It has a sense of humor.”
Nobody laughed. Astrid just sighed, rubbing her eyes. “You wouldn’t have called us if it were for nothing.”
“In the other world, there is another Dragonborn. His name is Shashev Helseth. He defeated Alduin with daedric artifacts, daedric armor and probably other secrets that I couldn’t discover. He freely enslaved every woman he came across, defeated Harkon with a combined force of Imperials and mercenaries on his home island, and killed the entire Dark Brotherhood. He is also somehow associated with the thieves guild.” Elayne gave Brynjolf a long stare. “If he isn’t the leader then he has your guildmaster by the balls so hard that he controls every ounce of information about himself. The Bard’s College was completely under his control. Their dean had a slave personally gifted to him from Shashev to keep him happy, some Dunmer named Karliah.”
Brynjolf knew that name. His features tightened. “Describe her to me.”
“Dunmer, roughly six inches taller than me. Purple eyes.” Elayne flushed, remembering kissing that woman. “Uh, kind of curvy. She had dark hair. I’ve got a note from her.”
“I don’t know her writing, but she’s the only dunmer I’ve met with those eyes.” Brynjolf mutters. “But she’s an old member of the guild. Associated with the last guildmaster.”
“I don’t really care about your history, Brynjolf. What I want to know is if you are able to recognize someone like Shashev.”
“I should be able to. Why?”
“If you see him, I need you to run. Any of you.”
“You assume we are all coming?” Vex muttered. “Crossing Oblivion?”
“I’m asking for volunteers for a heist that will be on a scale that none before have been. I want every arrow and potion and ingredient stripped from Whiterun. Every weapon we can carry. Armor is just going to weigh us all down, so consider this a quest not for gold but for everything an army of thousands of individuals needs to fight dragons. That’s what I’m after. If your guild doesn’t feel up to the task, Brynjolf, I’ll just rob them blind myself.” A hero cannot go against their nature. And in this moment, Elayne couldn’t help but feel that this would make the difference. She already ruined the sun in the other world. Her people here needed her. They needed what the other world could offer. “I’m going to take what we need right now, and I don’t care about the consequences. I can apologize when we defeat Alduin.”
“We’ll need a minute to confer.” Brynjolf said, taking the time to talk in the corner in hushed whispers with his people. Meanwhile, Astrid just nudged Elayne’s shoulder.
“We were killed in this world?” Astrid asked quietly.
“Hunted down like animals because you were a threat to him.”
“Then we will not be spared any quarter if we are seen.” Gabriella said, a harder edge to her voice. “What about the Companions?”
The massive form of Arnbjorn cracked his neck. “Leave that to me.”
“We will work in pairs. Go through back doors and leave as little a trace as possible.” Nazir considered. “Babette and I spent a lot of time in Whiterun for the last job there. Most of the shops have a backdoor. Locks are mediocre. Dragonsreach is a tougher nut to crack. Avoid it, the shops have more stock than their guard barracks. And we know their patrol routes.” The Redguard gave Elayne a smile. “Guards are the same in both worlds?”
“Most of them. Anyone with a green armband? They serve the other Dragonborn. They’ll have better equipment and better gear.” Elayne explained. But as she would have mentioned how eager they were to go after her, Brynjolf came back over.
“We’ve decided to help.” He stated. “But! Not all of us. Vex and Sapphire have already given a lot for you, and don’t want to put their lives on the line. This other world sounds a bit risky for them to be involved in. Niruin and I will help you.”
“Why only you two?”
“The likelihood of this going wrong, and us killing people is high.” Brynjolf pointed out. “Niruin and I don’t mind getting our hands dirty when it requires it. But Vex? She ain’t the type to want that. Sapphire neither.” He shrugged. “Quick heist, fewer hands available. If we had the entire guild at our fingertips? Well, that would be maybe fifteen pairs of hands we could muster for something like this. It hasn’t been good times for the guild. Civil war hits us just as hard as anyone else.”
“When we introduced Sister Sapphire to you, there was a lot more of you.” Astrid considered. “Down on your luck?”
“Don’t think we haven’t noticed your own decline.” the Nord muttered, his voice frazzled. “But I would have expected you people to thrive in a civil war.”
“People stop paying assassins when you can just fight them on the field of battle.” Arnbjorn replied, not liking the way that Brynjolf was talking to his wife. “I’ll keep the companions off of your path. Avoid Jorrvaskr. While they have weapons of war, they are also some of the best fighters in the province. We’re made if we are seen by them.”
“The walls are damaged, from a Stormcloak siege.” Elayne spoke up. “There are lots of ways out. But I will say that we will take three hours and steal as much as we can carry, before meeting back up in these stables. That way we have enough time just in case someone gets caught and we need to break them out of prison. There is an old tunnel from the prison to the northeast guard barracks. It’s a bit small for someone with Arnbjorn’s shoulders, but Gabriella and I climbed through it once.”
“There is an old barrel in the tunnel.” Brynjolf started speaking. “It’s got a false bottom with copies of all the cell door keys and the prison key.”
“How helpful.” Astrid actually complimented him. “Now, how do we all use this artifact?”
“For going there? Everyone needs to be touching the book as well as touching everything you want to bring with you.” Elayne explained, reaching into her bag and starting to pull out a dress for herself. “But Forsworn armor and signs of the dark brotherhood will get you killed on sight.” She pulled the dress on over her armor, unlatching the leather and bone and letting it hit the ground. “Sapphire, Vex, Serana? I need you all to watch my bag. Traveling with elder scrolls between the worlds is absolutely the stupidest thing I could do. It gets attention like no one’s business.” She set it aside, sliding her Forsworn armor out from underneath her dress and back into the bag. “If anyone is confused on how women are treated on the other side of this walk through Oblivion, assume that they are treated terribly. Or as if they are slaves to men. It’s not a pretty sight. When we return, that world is kind of discriminatory. Since the artifact came from Molag Bal, any woman that uses it to return should go naked. Otherwise your worn gear just gets destroyed during the process.”
“Lucky day.” Brynjolf chuckled, earning a growl from Arnbjorn.
“I’ve never traveled with a man before. You’ll probably need to strip, too.”
Nazir laughed deeply. “My lucky day.” It was Brynjolf’s turn to feel abashed.
“That doesn’t matter. We swore an oath to Sithis to blind that damn demi-god. With Motierre dead, our contract with him is gone. The entire family is here to make good our promise. And this world has already refused us once.” Astrid and the rest of her weird family huddled in a circle over the book. “Show your courage, thieves. Get over here.”
The circle of men and women all were touching the book, as Elayne began to read the daedric script. “It’s all swirly. Kind of hard to read.” Gabriella said, the Dunmer people all trained to read and write in daedric. Part of what caused some friction with the Aedra-loving Nords.
“When Fair Umbriel sailed the skies upon torment and blasphemy,” She carefully read the first line, as lines of darkness reached out from the pages and grasped each and every person in the circle. “Mournhold was the crucible.” Darkness gripped all of them, as many of the people in the circle seemed to panic or squeeze harder onto the book. But after a very long moment, the effect ended. Niruin and Brynjolf stumbled behind a couple of haybales and sicked up, vomiting. Strangely, all of the Dark Brotherhood members seemed calm. But even as Elayne closed the book, she could hear the sound of a dagger entering someone’s throat.
Twisting, she saw Cicero holding the newly made corpse of Skulvar. “No one may know.” The man chuckled. “No witnesses.”
“Elayne?” Astrid asked quietly. “You stay here. Hide behind the stables and dispose of the body. Let us be the ones to risk our lives this time.”
Brynjolf looked a little green in the face. “Alright, lass. I don’t think I want to walk Oblivion any more than necessary. Here, all of you follow me. There’s a good spot to climb the walls behind Sarethi’s place. Oh, and there is a dark spot behind the stables here that can be a good spot for a body dump.” He muttered. “Let’s move.”
Elayne dumped the stablemaster’s body through a window, where Arnbjorn skillfully moved it behind the stables. She started walking around herself, but caught her first view of Whiterun and its surroundings. The farms were all still there, of course. But the red film over the skies made her shiver. Perhaps it was colder than normal, too. Dozens of people were moving around, carrying supplies towards a platform in the middle of the fields south of the main gate. She ducked behind the stables as she saw a large carriage arrive, the green flags of Shashev Helseth flying behind it. Heeled boots came down the small ladder first. Elayne didn’t risk getting seen further. Those were dragonscale heels.
“They still haven’t mounted the archway!” Someone growled.
“Don’t worry, love.” A masculine voice said. The juicy sound of someone being spanked followed. “These people have never made an Oblivion gate before. Neither have I, but the notes are all in the Mysterium Xarxes. We only have the one page, but still! The theory is sound!”
“But what if Beleval doesn’t make it?”
“She will! She has the artifact we need, and she will be there. Once she is in the right place, the matching symbol will glow, and the portal will open.”
“But Shashev…”
“But nothing.” His voice said cruelly. “Make certain that the archway is stable and completed tonight, Janessa. Or else you’ll be the pony pulling my cart through that portal once it’s open. Mjoll is coming with the troops, and Mercer with the goods we will need. You need to break out those whips you’re so fond of and get those men working.” Elayne swore she could hear a gasp and a moan from the woman. “I’m going to go tell Baalgruf that this sun business won’t last long. But we need to be ready. The northern Jarls say that the sea of ghosts is freezing over. It’s summer and no food is growing. Ice is creeping forwards, and someone is going to figure out that my pact is at risk.”
This was the first time she had ever heard him. The other Dragonborn. His tone allowed no compromise, and it seemed that he was unused to being told no. “Yes, Shashev.” The woman, Janessa finally stated. “Your will be done.”
“Good. I’m going to Windstad Manor. Grandmother’s crown is there, and I’m not going anywhere without it. We will be back before the portal is done.” There was no warmth or promises of longing in his statement.
“You’ve been to every home but Dead Man’s Dread.” Janessa spoke up. “Do you have everything?”
“Everything I need to rebuild once we cross over. I’ll have to thank Elenwen more personally once we arrive.” Elenwen? Elayne shivered in horror. She now knew what happened to the Thalmor representative. But cross over? That didn’t bode well. “Get this done, Janessa.” He said, the woman whimpering.
Both of the people left, and Elayne just sighed in relief. Until the body of Skulvar began twitching. It was pulling itself back together, like it was being animated. But she hadn’t cast the spell! No one had! Squealing, she glanced around for any of her weapons. She hadn’t brought any, to her shame. So instead, she kicked the body back into the dirt. Her short steps took her away from the back of the building, and she looked for a nearby farm to hide in. Meanwhile, the body of Skulvar fully animated, and stumbled out of the darkened area. The corpse picked up a rock, and started advancing on the people building the gateway. It barely made it a quarter of the way before an arrow took it down, a woman in scanty covering dragonscale taking it down in one shot.
“World’s gone mad.” She realized this was Janessa. “Burn this body! Before the bones start reforming!” She spat on it. “Fuck! That was the stableman! Someone get the Whiterun guard! First the boy, now his father? Who is going to water the damn horses!” She sounded more annoyed than concerned. “Whatever. It’s their problem.” The Dunmer stalked off, approaching the large archway under construction.
Elayne hid in the barn, waiting and watching as the red sun glared across the fields. It should have been warm, but it felt chilly instead. Like the world was wrong. Undead were rising without a mage to conjure the body’s connection to Mundus. Fields were dying. The sun wasn’t as warm, and the wind had a bite to it that she could only remember being in Winterhold. “This is what would happen if I did it in the other world.” She voiced what her heart knew, but her mind didn’t want to admit. “I did this.”
Solitude and Dawnstar were frozen over. It was a thousand times worse than anything that a single iceberg had done. Or perhaps what Harkon had done. In the height of summer, the world was freezing. In six months, when this world experienced Evening Star, would there be anything left to be found? She wanted to retch, to scream, to just expend all of her magicka in any way to get rid of this feeling of agony. She was a hero, not some asshole like Shashev. He was supposed to be a hero! He should have been the one saving people!
Her mind hung on that thought. Shashev could be trying to save everyone he cared about. At his core, he could be the kind of person to save a few people. But taking them to another plane of Oblivion? That wasn’t wise. Maybe safer than here. There was a small altar in front of the archway that she couldn’t see which deity it was dedicated to. It looked like something dedicated to an aedra, at least. It had that shape to it.
“Can’t be Oblivion if they have an Aedric statue, but there aren’t many places outside of Nirn that you can go to that aren’t planes of Oblivion. So it might just be Oblivion after all. Aetherius, maybe. Gods, what if they are going to something like the Battlespire or the realm of the Hist?”
“What are you yammering about?”
She would have shrieked if not for her training with the Greybeards. Standing behind her was Arnbjorn, the man looking bemused. “Trying to figure out where they are going to go. That doorway is going to go somewhere.”
“Doesn’t matter.” Arnbjorn muttered. “Fretting about shit like this is why I left the Companions. Family matters more. Worrying about whatever they’re building there isn’t going to make the time you spend with us more valuable. I’ve led the Companions away. They won’t be in the city while Nazir steals anything that isn’t nailed down.”
“I was more worried about Festus.” Elayne tried to joke, but Arnbjorn wasn’t light hearted enough to appreciate it. The Nord snorted his nose in annoyance, not endearment.
“Individually, every single person in the family is a brutal killer. You included. We each have our methods. But you put all of us in one city. We aren’t thieves that strip bodies of coin, or seek coin where our actions will be found.” His features hardened. “Cicero blames the world for the loss of his family. And now you’ve allowed him free reign in a place where his actions won’t have consequences.”
Elayne felt a pit open in her gut. “He’s going to kill the guards just for having arrows.” She stared back at Arnbjorn. “We have to stop him!”
“Why? As you said, these people don’t matter. And the guards will have good arrows.”
“Not that, Arnbjorn! Dead bodies rise without a conjurer! And he’s going to kill all the people that can stop the problem!”
“The Companions will be back before sundown. They’ll handle it. Stop feeling pity for people that you aren’t going to care about tomorrow!”
“You don’t know what haunts me at night! You have no idea!” her voice was serene and quiet. She didn’t want that Janessa woman coming near her.
“You don’t know me either, Sister.” Arnbjorn emphasized. “Family we may be, but some things we don’t say aloud. Some things you just bury with Sithis.”
“You’ve lived in Whiterun, too! You’ve known every single person there!”
Arnbjorn seemed unmoved. “Yet they declared me an animal no better than a dog. Put a price on my head for fighting the very people and things they hired me to!” There was an edge to his voice. “The only one that ever showed me any kindness was Olava, and the one in this world won’t die if Cicero comes upon her. I don’t care if people die, Elayne. I never have.”
“But I do.” She whispered back. “I will kill only by necessity, but in the last year I’ve killed so many people. Bandits, a few score.” She didn’t want to think about it. “The ones whose names I remember sometimes haunt me.”
“If you leave some coin on them for Arkay, that should be the only thing that calms your mind. It makes sure that the family will be able to handle the death. As a killer or a hero that is the best kindness you can leave them.” He softened his tone. “Elayne, you don’t have the heart of a killer. Astrid and I have known that for a while.”
“Then why haven’t you kicked me out of the Brotherhood?!”
Arnbjorn just closed his eyes. “Astrid and I cannot have children. That part of her was ruined long ago. The only family we have are all of you. Just because you can’t kill without regret doesn’t mean we would ever close our door to you. In the old days, the Brotherhood had members in plain sight. People that would have real jobs and careers. Priests, Lords and even Dukes of Colovia were part of it. Family is a force that goes beyond our different races. Even if you chose to stop killing, what you’ve done for us and by us has been nothing short of love. In our own fucked up way.” He seemed unused to speaking for so long. “Astrid would never give up on you. Even when the Night Mother refused our Black Sacrament against Alduin, Astrid spat on her coffin and demanded that we be allowed to do something for you.”
“Which we all agreed that we would not share with her.” Both of them twisted, turning to see Gabriella and Astrid step out of the gloom. Elayne’s eyes keenly saw a lack of blood on their weapons. “The Night Mother told us that Sithis would find it appropriate for us to blind the son of Akatosh.” Astrid was smiling, but her bag bulged with gear. “You were right to raid this place. A little bit of poison and the blacksmiths had to take and afternoon nap.”
“Babette and Festus were going to the alchemist’s and the main market. Nazir and Vazeera were going to the general store and drunken huntsman. Brynjolf and his bosmer thief were going to Warmaidens once we had carried off as much as we could.”
“We got what we needed!” Festus croaked, invisible somewhere. “And Babette found herself quite the motherload of potion ingredients. I feel like an ox.”
“I can see the others coming this way. Cicero and Nazir are coming.” Babette said clearly. “No sign of the thieves.” The young voice trailed off, and then she swore. “What in the name of Sithis?”
They all leaned on the doorframe of the barn, and saw a curious sight. Two horses were being led by Niruin and Brynjolf, saddlebags piled so heavily with gear that it seemed to be slowing the poor creatures. Both were pulling a wagon that had also been stuffed with bag after bag of material. Brynjolf was wearing Whiterun guard armor, and no one even questioned him as he made his way to the barn. “All of you better help me unload this!” He called. “You all just took everything you could carry. Well.” He scoffed. “I think I took everything not nailed down. And then I got them to help load it.” Brynjolf looked pleased with himself. “Well, Lass?”
“You did wonderfully, Brynjolf!” But their actions were not unnoticed. She could see men in armor with green scarves heading this way, along with Janessa. “Some of the Dragonborn’s people are coming this way!” She hissed. “Quickly, move!”
The wagon was only half unloaded when Janessa strutted her way into the area. “What are you idiots,” She started to say, before noticing Brynjolf. “Ah.” The dunmer cleared her throat. “You didn’t kill anyone for that, did you?”
“Nope.” Brynjolf said, neutrally. “You going to turn me in for it?”
“Normally, I would. I don’t like thieves. But Shashev has a soft spot for you. Try not to interfere with our plans. Stealing a wagon of supplies to sell to the Stormcloaks is fairly ingenious. Just don’t get caught, alright?” Janessa’s eyes turned to the others in their group, alighting on Gabriella. A spark of recognition bloomed. But that was her mistake. All of the armored men with her fell to a single spell, cast by Festus. The only one that shook it off took a thrown scimitar from Nazir, while Janessa tried to back away from all of them. “Dark Bro-”
She couldn’t say anything more as Astrid shoved the blade of Woe through her back, the dragonscale armor not stopping the weapon. She gasped, going still as her body ended its life. Elayne moved forwards, holding up a flame spell. “Now we’re in for it! This is one of Shashev’s women! Look at her collar!”
Janessa was wearing a collar made from dragonscale and ebonite. It looked ornate, and came off her neck only because she was dead. “Strip the bodies. Then burn them.” Astrid ordered. “The dead seem to rise on their own.” Dragonscale leotard and heeled boots seemed to be the basis for Janessa’s armor as well as Serana’s outfit, and Elayne’s hands moved quickly to remove it. But within a half hour, inside the barn they had more bags of loot than any of them could carry, and played a very odd game of threading as many arms through bags as possible, everyone laying down naked around the open book.
“Public indecency never felt so good, huh?” The naked Festus grinned towards Brynjolf, to his direct left.
“It really could be better.” Brynjolf replied. “I’m laying on top of a bag of arrows, and one of them is going to poke my-”
“Stow it!” Elayne cut him off. “I’m going to take us back. When that happens? Everyone will be given an item. A price.” Outside, there was a lot of loud voices. People had found them out. “Some can be removed. Others might be gifts. Molag Bal has a cruel sense of humor. It might be him, or it might be Hermaeus Mora doing the deed. Either way, don’t complain about it. Or if you do, make sure you have a way out of it.” She noticed the doors to the barn were starting to open. “Here we go!”
Holding everyone’s hands, she pressed the rune. With a flash of bright magic, all of them appeared back in the barn near Whiterun’s stables, the multitudes of bags of gear coming with them. Though there was a lot of squabbling and commotion as she did so, with Astrid and Festus cursing. Elayne felt something get added to her, another drain on her magic. She didn’t flinch, casting a Candlelight spell. Even though it had only been a few seconds, Brynjolf was already half dressed, and Niruin close behind. None of the Dark Brotherhood were in any sort of shape for that. Astrid seemed to be marveling over a set of heavy steel anklets. They looked to have hefty enchantments upon them. Arnbjorn had a collar with a leash, making him growl in annoyance. Heavy nordic steel decorated him. Cicero was wearing a pair of rings, the man giggling madly. Gabriella looked to have a small headband, a daedric appearance to it. It wasn’t the queenly large one that adorned Eola, but something sleek and slim against her head.
“Lover’s kiss, eh?” Festus grinned. “It’s like I have a woman caressing me at all times!” Elayne made a conscious effort to not look at the old man and his new piece of jewelry. Nazir she spared a glance to. The Redguard was wrapping his head before anything else, a flash of metal upon his neck as well. It didn’t look very ostentatious, unlike Arnbjorn’s. But anything else Elayne would have wanted to notice was taken up by a massive pair of breasts to fill her vision. And then promptly smothered her.
“You’re marvelous! Just marvelous!” The sing song voice declared. Elayne looked up, seeing a collar very much like the one Serana wore around this woman’s neck. A fountain of blood red hair flowed from her head, and a set of orange eyes delighted upon Elayne.
“Babette?” She made the association. “Wait, how?!”
“Molag Bal blessed me! He did! Oh, he did!” Babette was no longer a child. She was a full figured Breton, an adult that could never be called childlike. “Look, Elayne!”
Elayne could hardly avoid looking, as Babette’s curves pressed up against her gems, the cold vampire’s skin frigid against her own. “I can see them!” She said, breathily. “Gods, you’re cold!”
“I don’t care!” The vampire was kissing her. Lips, face, neck and nose. But there were no accompanying bites to go with the touches along her neck. “For four hundred years I’ve been a child! Four centuries! Four centuries of this hell!”
Brynjolf was looking on with appreciation, even as the rest of the Brotherhood of assassins got dressed. Tentatively, Elayne offered the dragonscale armor that Janessa had been wearing. It was fairly revealing, but seemed like it would fit her curves. She had them for certain. Elayne could remove the collar with the same commands that Serana’s collar had. Which is when they discovered the dark curse upon it. Babette’s adult body was only hers if she wore the collar. Only when it was locked upon her neck and under the command of Elayne was she could be an adult. In fact, Babette was forced to accept any command from any woman who spoke to her.
“I guess that’s the price I pay. You must be his champion.” Elayne shuddered at the thought. Champion of Molag Bal?
“Harkon was his champion. Is his champion.”
“He’s not dead?” Babette seemed curious more than afraid of that.
“I banished him to Oblivion. He’s not dead. So I can’t be the champion.” There was no way that she was going to get spanked by Talos again. “Please don’t infer that I am!”
“You belong to Sithis, like the rest of us.” Astrid said, giving both of them a hug. “Now, let’s surprise the generals with your ill gotten gains.”
Elayne didn’t spend much time looking at her upper arms. She could feel the moonstone and quicksilver bound there. She knew what they meant. If she touched money ever again, they would shock her with her own magic. Her life would not be simple if she couldn’t even handle going to an inn without bartering for what she wanted. That knowledge stung, but no more than the reminder of how short her steps were.
But none of that compared to the sight upon everyone’s face when she pulled up to the command tent on a wagon filled to the brim with arrows and supplies. Tulius looked like he was sucking on a particularly painful piece of lemon. If she could, that would be the way she wanted to remember him for the rest of her life.
“To our victory!” She shouted. Victory sounded good. Victory was what they all needed.
“To Victory!” The answering shout came, even the Emperor joining in the reverie. “Now that’s how you make a living legend!” Baalgruf clapped her on the back, making her stumble in her Forsworn armor. A legend victorious. That felt good to think about. Now if only she could figure out how to stop Alduin for good. Aedric creatures were difficult like that. Maybe Miraak might know, if she summoned him again.
As soon as she could, she got back to the Western Watchtower with Serana. She was still not ready to talk about what happened, and was getting the cold shoulder from most people. Elayne dug into her journals, something tickling her understanding. The shout to summon Miraak was invented by the man for a reason. Just one word, and he was a ghost. An apparition. Two words and he was summoned physically for a short time. What would the third shout give him? Elayne shrugged, standing up and brushing off her hands.
“Rel! Gaar!” Miraak was never happy when he got summoned. But this time he would get a different reaction. When the tall Nord came swearing into Nirn, he found Elayne waiting for him, kneeling. It was off-putting.
“I am no atronach.” He stated, more for himself than for her. “What do you want to know, Elayne?” His arms were folded, and he stepped back from her.
“I assume you’re mad you lost to Harkon?” She brought up first.
“It is painful to lose to another champion.” He admitted. “I am the champion of Hermaeus Mora. Though I rarely get to see battle, I am not accustomed to any kind of defeat.” He looked down at her. “Were you victorious?”
“Harkon has been exiled to the realm of Boethia. No matter how long he is exiled from Tamriel, his base of power is shattered and I can deal with Alduin without his interference.”
“I see.” He sneered down at her. “Get off of your knees. I feel like you’re about to use your feminine tricks upon me. A Dragonborn shouldn’t be kneeling, anyways!”
She stayed kneeling, knowing it made him uncomfortable. And there was an ache that she felt he could fill. “You don’t like being in control, Miraak. I don’t mind being on my knees if it means I win the war.”
“You’re Dovahkiin! You have the souls of conquering spirits personified! The very essence of Akatosh given to you to dominate the world!” He glared. “I begrudgingly admit you’ve done well against the champion of Molag Bal. You were more amenable to fight with than fight against.”
“Miraak, I’ve never fought you.”
“You took of my essence! You contested my willpower!” Elayne tilted her head, thinking. She didn’t remember doing anything of the sort!
“Are you made I gave you a blowjob?” She asked, carefully.
“I forgive you for not understanding your nature.” Miraak was rolling his shoulders behind his mask. “The Dovah consider all things a competition of wills. Interaction between them has a clear superior and inferior.”
“And you believe you are superior because you came first?” Elayne laughed.
“When a Dovahkiin absorbs a dragon soul, they gain parts of that dragon’s powers. Their longevity and immortality included. Absorb the right souls, and you gain the knowledge of their race. Speaking, combat, and mating are all considered an expression of dominance of will!”
“So you are claiming, let me get this right.” Elayne stood up, heels clicking. “That I dominated your will by mating in such a way with you?”
“Yes.” The larger man admitted with vitriol.
“Miraak, I think you listen to dragons too much. You rebelled against them, didn’t you?”
“Their dominion over man was flawed. It was imperfect.” Miraak said, happy to change the subject. “I also absorbed the soul of one of Alduin’s favorite Dovah. He already suspected humans of being trouble, and he was in charge of the cycle of rebirth for dragons that fell in battle against one another. Being a Dragon Priest, I was responsible for the safe collection of the bones and preparation of the burial.” He seemed on edge as he shared that. “I betrayed Alduin when I took the soul of the dragon. I saw no other way to protect the entire peninsula than to defend what I had done. And I took more souls as I did so. It filled a void in my heart that I had long considered impossible to fill.”
“So what happened?”
“Alduin’s other priests came for me. Vahlok was the most powerful. I tried to face them upon the land bridge that led towards Saarthal, but I was forced to run. Tired and winded, Alduin met me at the temple I had been in charge of.” He seemed to rest his eyes on the far wall instead of upon Elayne. “Nothing is passive in Tamriel. There will always be something superior to you, and things that remain inferior. Knowing your place in that balance is the key factor in your survival.”
Elayne held up a hand, balancing a small dagger upon it. “Yet since you’ve been sent to Oblivion, the world has changed. New building materials have been discovered. New empires have risen and fallen.”
“The Dovah and us remain unchanged by time.” He stated, as if it were fact.
“If the dragons were such timeless creatures, then their ideology should have been superior to Man and Mer all this time, then?”
“They remain superior.”
“Then their dominion shouldn’t have collapsed? You sound like you aren’t giving us mortals enough of a chance. Some of our empires have lasted longer than that of the dragons.”
“We are not like the other two legged fools that walk this earth. We can conquer as we are supposed to do, in the name of Akatosh.”
“In the name of Akatosh?!” Elayne giggled. “Do you even hear yourself? You sound like a pompous windblown tyrant! But you own nothing.”
“I am better than you could ever hope to be!” He loomed over her.
“You have experience, sure. And you have a lot of time alone to think your way through problems. Not to mention inventing your own shout to free yourself.”
“The knowledge of it was taken from me, though I recognize that it seems to be attuned to only me.”
“We don’t know the third word of the shout! It could be attuned to any Dragonborn that is lost in Oblivion!”
That seemed to stop him in thought. “I am willing to believe that there are no others in any other corner of Oblivion.”
“Why?”
“Because I would lose much value in the eyes of my host if I were no longer unique.” Miraak admitted, cruelly. “So while the shout may work as such, you aren’t summoning Talos when you express your Thu’um.”
“True, but I only know the start of the final word.”
“This isn’t a matter of grammar. This is a matter of meaning! You have a name that the Dovah call you, as do I.”
“Somehow I doubt that you had the education needed to understand that I am inferring that I know how the third word starts.”
“If you try to utter it, I will be dragged back into Oblivion.” He folded his arms. “Mora tolerates you knowing two of the words. Attempting to use me to learn more just leads to both of us feeling his anger.”
Elayne could see he didn’t want to pursue any further conversation on the topic. “Was Mora angry that I defeated you?”
“You did not defeat me in combat!” He fumed.
“But you claimed that you view sex as a form of dominance.” Elayne knew her mask was hiding her bemused smile. “So, I defeated you!”
“That was not a defeat! That was,” He paced back and forth, fingers grasping as he searched for the words. “It was an unexpected turn.”
“Miraak.” Elayne muttered playfully. “I do believe you liked it.”
He said nothing, absolutely fuming. Elayne just matched his stare, the two dragon priest masks going eye to eye. Nothing was said for a moment, but she could feel the connection between them starting to slip. Of course, he didn’t want to let her have the last word in the argument. “Any mortal man would consider it an honor to have you. But I;” He growled, his hands flickering first. “I will not beg. I will not be subservient to you! I am the conqueror! You conquer nothing! You will only achieve victory upon your knees!” He looked like he wanted to say more, but he was returned to whatever part of Apocrypha he was kept in.
Conqueror. Victory. Both words started with the same phonetics in the dragon language. Kron for victory. Kroniid for Conquerer. To dragonkind, both were linked. To accomplish one was to have the other. To take something was to be victorious. The words tumbled in her mind, the meanings pushing their way back and forth. Perhaps the original intention of the shout was to free himself from Oblivion. Or perhaps he meant to come back to Tamriel and conquer more than he did in life.
“That won’t do at all.” Elayne murmured. If he could invent a shout that freed him from Oblivion? She could change the meaning. Her journal came out, and she started writing by pressing the tip of her quill as if to form the diagonal cuts that made up the dragon language. Rel Gaar Kron. Rel Gaar Kroniid. Dominion, release, victory. Or alternatively conqueror. Fluid meanings in both languages, but only the dragon souls that she had taken told her that. There was a basis of understanding, but there wasn’t a fluency. There was no intrinsic knowledge to back her up. “How long did he take to invent this?!”
The room darkened as her candlelight spell flickered, and one of the walls of the old tower seemed to be darker than true night. Her earrings rattled, a sure sign that Oblivion was being touched. She already knew who it was, before the first tentacle extended from the pale green light of Apocyrpha. “An entire Era, young Ysmir.” The voice spoke as if coming from dozens of mouths at once. She heard more than one language express that, and at least one of them was the dragon tongue. “You do not have the time or the ability to accomplish such a power.”
“I welcome you, Hermaeus Mora.” She spoke carefully. Serana was panicking off to the side, her heels scraping as she moved as far away from the tentacles as possible. “Though I do not know the nature of your coming.”
“Without Tamriel, the chains that bind Oblivion to Nirn will shatter. A new world will be born from the shards of this one. As I have seen done before. But the Aedra are not so kind. Mortals will be lost in the conversion process, as the Dreugh experienced. For their kind came from another Ada. Hiding in Namira’s shadow until the new world came. Somehow I doubt your willingness to experience such.”
“My gods.” Elayne felt something click. “The Oblivion Gate! He’s not saving anyone! He’s…”
“He cannot escape Nirn yet. For he lacks a foci. A way to form a new sigil stone. And you and he shall both face Alduin at the same time. For all of his aspects shall be upon all shades of Nirn. The Aedra are cunning. Defeating Alduin upon one shade of Nirn makes no difference. Not when the son of Akatosh can simply walk between reality and enter another shade to heal or avoid death.”
“You don’t want him to win?”
“Never assume the mind of a daedra, mortal.” The tentacles twisted, slapping the floor and leaving wet marks. “I did not come to give you knowledge. I have come to bargain.”
“I did not ask you to come. Nor did I offer anything in exchange.” Elayne knew the rules. Hermaeus Mora never did anything for free. Never.
“I was already paid. For I come to bargain on behalf of another mortal. Will you hear my offer?”
Serana gave muffled screeches, but Elayne dared not look away. Not when He was looking right at you. “On whose behalf?”
“Shashev Helseth.”
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Skyrim: Plaything