The Last

by mavlexNerd

Summary:

Luiseth Sadri: Half-Dunmer, Half-Nord, Aspiring Mage. And nephew of Ulfric Stormcloak. Not that he wants to talk about that. He'd rather stay out of politics all together thank you very much.
But on the way to Winterhold, a stop at Helgen leads to Luis getting mixed up in both mortal and immortal politics. Especially with revelations that this might not be his first time on Nirn...
Between scheming daedric princes, a crush on a Legion soldier, being intermittently possessed, pressure from his uncle, and a strange white haired women calling him "Marty", will Luis be able to keep his sanity and save Skyrim?

CHAPTER 4 HAS BEEN REWRITTEN

Chapter 1

Notes:

Me? Posting multiple unfinished story ideas so I can rotate through working on them? Couldn't be.

“Go to Helgen,” his mom had said. “Travel close to the border. The rebels won’t want to go near there. Plus the cart fare is cheaper.”

So that’s what Luis had done. A cart from Solitude to Markarth, avoiding the dangerous swamps of Morthal. Another cart from Markarth to Helgen, a large trading town near the border.

After that, a cart up to Whiterun, then to Dawnstar in the Pale, and finally to Winterhold.

That had been the plan after Helgen, but that’s not what happened.

What happened was that the day that Luis was to depart Helgen, he woke to the sound of rumbling cart wheels and soldiers shouting. Grumpy from lack of sleep, Luis went downstairs to see what the commotion was, still rubbing his eyes while holding his glasses in his hand.

When he reached the first floor of the inn, he saw people crowded around the door and windows, peeking outside. Luis walked to the doorframe to get a closer look. Outside he could see the carts and the soldiers that had been making all the racket.

Legion soldiers, standing next to the buildings and gates, waited for the carts carrying people in blue chainmail armor. Very familiar looking chainmail armor...

“They actually got him...” he heard the barkeep mutter, still polishing a glass. “Those crazy bastards finally got him.”

Luis didn’t have to ask who he meant. He saw the man himself, jumping out of one of the carts. Hands bound, mouth gagged, dressed in gray furs.

Luis gulped, trying to hide behind the doorframe from Ulfric. He wasn’t sure what his uncle would do if he caught sight of him, but he was pretty sure it wouldn’t be good.

Then again, would Ulfric even recognize him? It had been about ten years after all. Still, Luis thought, trying to get a good view without being seen, best not to risk it.

The Stormcloaks had been shuffled into lines now. There were probably about thirty men and women, basically all of them Nords. Ulfric stood near the front. Luis could see people scanning the crowd of Stormcloaks. They were probably looking for people they knew, he reasoned. He scanned the crowd as well. Nobody he knew. Or at least nobody he recognized yet.

Two Legion soldiers took position in front of the lined-up Stormcloaks. One was wearing a silver helmet and had more decorated armor than the other. The other was a tall, muscular Nord man, with auburn hair. He was holding a quill and a piece of parchment, checking it over. “Step forward when we call your name!” called the one wearing the helmet. “One at a time!”

So that’s the lady who’s yelling woke me up, Luis thought grumpily, rubbing his eyes. At least the soldier next to her was easy on the eyes...

“Those Empire folks love their lists, don’t they?” muttered the innkeeper. Luis just shrugged.

The auburn-haired Nord began calling out names. First up was “Ulfric Stormcloak, Jarl of Windhelm!”

Ulfric grumpily walked forward, glaring at everyone and everything. “It has been an honor, Jarl Ulfric!” one of the Stormcloaks yelled. He sounded about Luis’ age. Luis just sighed. How many people had Ulfric pulled into this idiotic scheme of his?

“R...” The auburn haired Nord stuttered on the next name. He cleared his throat. “Ral...Ralof of Riverwood!”

A blonde Stormcloak passed by the list reader. Even from where he was standing, Luis could tell that the blonde was glaring at the auburn-haired Nord. The auburn-haired Nord, for his part, seemed to be trying to avoid looking at the blonde entirely. Did they know each other? It seemed like it. Luis couldn’t help but wince. He wasn’t sure who to feel worse for.

The list continued, all Stormcloaks, without issue, save for one hapless man who tried to run away. He got an arrow in the back for his trouble.

All of the Stormcloaks marched, solemnly but without complaint, towards the middle of the town square. The auburn-haired Nord and his superior followed them. In the square, Luis saw what had been set up while he’d been focusing on the Stormcloaks.

It was an execution block, executioner included, a broad Redguard holding an ax taller than he was. So that was how it was going to be. No trial, nothing spectacular. Just killing them and being done with it.

Luis couldn’t help but wonder if the Stormcloaks deserved a bit more dignity than this. Then again, maybe they were just trying to kill them before they escaped?

Ulfric was pushed out to the front, and an important-looking Imperial walked up to him, crossing his arms. This must have been the “General Tullius” Luis had been hearing so much about.

“Ulfric Stormcloak!” the general yelled. He gestured around them. “Some here in Helgen call you a hero! But a hero doesn’t use a power like the Voice to murder his king and usurp his throne!”

Luis gulped. So it was true. Luis couldn’t quite believe it before, but now...Ulfric had done it. He’d really used his Greybeard training to kill High King Torygg. And now the consequences were coming back to bite him.

“You started this war, and plunged Skyrim into chaos!” the general continued. “And now the Empire is going to put you down and restore the peace!”

As the general finished, a strange sound came, seemingly from the sky. It sounded like a roar, maybe? But not the kind of roar that came from a normal animal.

And yet it sounded familiar. Luis couldn’t put his finger on it, but he felt he’d heard a sound like that before.

“What was that?” Luis heard someone ask. It sounded like the auburn-haired Nord.

The general looked around, then regained his composure and shook his head. “It’s nothing,” he replied. “Carry on.” Luis wasn’t sure if he was talking to the auburn-haired Nord or to himself.

Out came a priestess, wearing orange robes. She raised her arms. “As we commend your souls to Aetherius, blessings of the Eight Divines upon you!”

Oh, the Stormcloaks weren’t going to like that. Sure enough, one man stepped forward, interrupting the priestess with a shout of “For the love of Talos, shut up and let’s get it over with!”

The priestess stepped back, obviously miffed. “As you wish.”

The man was guided over to kneel on the block. “My ancestors are smiling at me, Imperials! Can you say the same?”

I wouldn’t be too sure of that, thought Luis mournfully as the ax swung. Luis closed his eyes tightly, wincing as he heard the ax hit with a sickening crunch.

“You Imperial bastards!” Luis heard a woman yell.

“Death to the Stormcloaks!” the superior from before replied as the Stormcloak’s headless body was pushed off the block.

The roar came again, louder this time. “There it is again...” said the auburn-haired Nord, sounding worried. “Did you hear that?”

“Next prisoner!” the superior yelled. Another Stormcloak was pushed forward, the blonde from before.

But before the blonde could take another step towards the block, it appeared. A giant black form, swooping around the mountains and towards the town. It got bigger and bigger as it approached, bigger than Luis thought was possible.

“What in Oblivion?” someone yelled.

“Sentries! What’s going on? What do you see?”

“It’s in the clouds!”

And then it landed on top of the keep. Blacker than night, with eyes glowing like red-hot coals. The visage was one Luis had only seen in carvings and illustrations. But there was no mistaking what it was.

“Dragon!”

The dragon roared, and everything was chaos.

---

Luis couldn’t move. There was fire all around him. People were screaming. His eyes and throat burned.

He couldn’t move! He had to move! He was going to die! But where could he go? What could he do?

The chapel! He had to make for the chapel! He could go in, maybe petition the gods for this thing to go away. It was better than nothing, right?

His thoughts were cut off by a voice in his head screaming MOVE! Luis jumped away just as the door of the inn collapsed. Luis could hear the screaming from inside. “There’s people in there!” he yelled.

“We’re on it!” A group of soldiers and civilians descended on the ruins, trying to dig their way through the rubble. A hand grabbed his bicep and Luis let himself be quickly led away. He looked to see who was pulling him along and recognized the auburn-haired Nord from earlier. “Where are we going?” yelled Luis.

“I don’t know! Somewhere safe!”

“What about the chapel?”

The auburn-haired Nord looked at Luis, confused. “Chapel? What-” His eyes widened. “Get down!” He tackled Luis against a wall as the dragon landed overhead. It breathed a large jet of fire, then flew off.

The auburn-haired Nord let Luis off the wall, panting heavily. “Come on! You’ll be safe in the keep!”

Right! The keep. That was way more stable than a chapel… “This way!” Luis was pulled along again. He tried to keep up, but it was hard when he was half a head shorter than the Nord pulling him.

Distantly, Luis could hear the shouts of the Legion soldiers.

“What is that thing?”

“Nothing kills it!”

“Someone get something to stop the bleeding!”

“Hadvar!” That was the general’s voice. “Into the keep, soldier, we’re leaving!”

“Yes sir!” Hadvar yelled. So that was the auburn-haired Nord’s name. Luis wasn’t able to think about it too much before Hadvar stopped dead in his tracks. “Ralof...” he growled.

Luis peeked around the larger man to see the blonde Stormcloak from before. He was free from his bonds now. He glared at Hadvar, no less intensely than earlier. “We’re escaping, Hadvar! You’re not stopping us!”

Hadvar looked between Luis and Ralof, then shook his head. “F...fine! I hope that dragon takes you all to Sovngarde!” He grabbed Luis’ arm. “Come on!”

Luis looked at Ralof, trying to put as much sympathy into his expression as possible, before Hadvar shoved him in front, into the darkness of the keep. Luis heard the door slam behind them, and all was quiet.

Chapter 2

Summary:

Hadvar and Luis make their way through Helgen, which is complicated by Luis being...distracted by things.

Luis let himself fall onto one of the beds inside the keep, panting heavily. “Oh gods…” he whispered. “Oh gods…”

Hadvar came and sat beside him. “Are you alright?” he asked.

Luis took a deep breath, trying to calm his hammering heart. “I mean, other then nearly being roasted alive, I feel fine,” he said sardonically. He looked up at Hadvar. “How’s your day going?”

Hadvar stared at him. “Sorry,” said Luis. “I…I think I’m fine…physically, I mean.”

Hadvar nodded. “That’s good. And you have the right to be a bit snarky, I’d think.” He laughed a bit, but then his face turned serious. “We can’t stay here though. This keep will only hold up for so long…”

Luis shivered. Hadvar was right. With some effort, he pushed himself off the bed. “Do you know a way out?”

Hadvar nodded. “There’s some caverns under the keep that lead outside. We should be able to escape from there.”

The keep shook again, and Luis nearly fell over, only being stopped by Hadvar catching his arm. “Steady there,” said Hadvar. “Don’t break your head on the floor before we even get out.”

Luis blushed at the contact. “R…right…” Focus, Luiseth!

Hadvar began searching through the chests, pulling out a bow, a quiver, and a shield. “Can you fight?” he asked Luis.

Luis summoned fire in both his hands and nodded. “I’m pretty useless with a sword, to be honest,” he sighed. “But I can use magic.”

Hadvar looked at Luis and nodded. “Alright. No summoning daedra though.”

Luis huffed in frustration. “Why is that always what people assume…”

Hadvar tossed Luis some Imperial armor. “Sorry about the weight. Can’t afford to be choosy at the moment though.”

Luis strained to lift the heavy breastplate. “Oh dear…” After some struggling, he managed to get it on. He decided to forgo to boots and helmet, however.

“All good?” Hadvar asked, helping Luis fix the straps.

Luis nodded, blushing again. He’s almost touching me… Stop it! This is a life or death situation! Now is not the time!

“Good, then let’s get going!” Hadvar led Luis over to a door and opened it. He made to go into the room beyond but stopped at the sound of running.

“We have to get out of Helgen!” yelled someone.

“Just give me a minute!” someone else yelled. “I’m out of breath…”

Stumbling into the room came two people in blue chainmail. Hadvar looked at Luis. “Maybe we can reason with them.” He sheathed his sword and walked into the room. The Stormcloaks rounded on him, drawing their weapons. Hadvar put his hands up in a gesture of surrender. “Hold on, we only want to- “

“Death to the Empire!” Hadvar barely had time to get his sword out in order to block the axe swing from one of the charging Stormcloaks.

“Talos smite you!” yelled the other, drawing her mace.

“Hey!”

The female Stormcloak was hit in the back by a fireball and screamed. “He was just trying to talk!” yelled Luis, readying another fireball.

The distraction Luis provided gave Hadvar an opening to stab the Stormcloak attacking him in the side. The Stormcloak fell on one knee with a loud cry, at which point Hadvar slashed his throat, and the Stormcloak fell for good.

Meanwhile, the female Stormcloak had turned to face Luis. “Coward!” she yelled. Then she saw his face and smirked. “Oh, that explains it. Die, elf!”

She swung her mace at Luis. Luis tried to jump out of the way, but the heaviness of the armor made him stumble. All the same, he managed to create a small flash of fire, which skimmed the woman’s face and made her yelp.

“Quit it!” yelled Luis. “We’re all trying to- woah!“ He rolled out of the way of another mace swing.

The woman raised her mace again. “Stop! Dodging! Die!”

“No!” yelped Luis. He summoned fire in his hand again and grabbed the woman’s arm.

The woman screamed as the smell of burning skin hit Luis’ nostrils.

Then the edge of a blade protruded from her chest. Her eyes rolled back, and she fell to the floor and laid still.

Hadvar was standing behind her, holding his sword and looking sadly down at the woman’s body. “Th…thanks for that,” panted Luis, still on the ground.

Hadvar startled. “Oh! Um…” He reached down and extended a hand to Luis. Luis took it gratefully, letting Hadvar pull him up. Once Luis was back on his feet, Hadvar sighed sadly. “I was hoping not to have to do that…”

Luis shook his head. “They attacked first, right? You shouldn’t blame yourself…”

Hadvar smiled sadly. “Right.” He looked at Luis. “Did that lady call you an elf because you were using magic?”

Luis shurgged. “I mean…she’s not wrong. My mom’s a dunmer…er, a Dark Elf.” He shook his head. “Sorry, I haven’t even introduced myself.” He held out a hand. “Luiseth Sadri.”

Hadvar stared at his hand a minute, then reached out and shook it. “Hadvar of Riverwood.”

Luis really, really hoped that Hadvar would write off the redness of his face as being from exertion.

Chapter 3

Summary:

Riverwood time!

Notes:

Apologies, I accidentally posted the wrong chapter, forgot I hadn't posted this one. Sorry!

After a long, exhausting half an hour battling Stormcloaks, spiders, and sneaking past a bear, the two men finally came out the side of the mountain.

“Wait!” yelped Hadvar, all but tackling Luis behind a boulder.

Luis was about to protest when he heard a roar from above. He was pinned under Hadvar and couldn’t see anything (oh fuck he was pinned under Hadvar oh fuck oh fuck). Then the sound of flapping wings, first loud, then quieter and quieter. Until they faded away.

After a few seconds, Luis felt the weight lift from his back. He heard Hadvar sigh in relief. “Sorry about that. Looks like he’s gone for good this time though.”

Luis sat up, brushing dirt off himself. “Thank the gods,” he muttered. He looked up at Hadvar. “So…um…what now?”

Hadvar put his hands on his hips, then looked around. Then he offered a hand to Luis, helping him up. “My hometown of Riverwood isn’t far from here. My uncle’s a smith there. I’m sure he’d help us out.”

So off they went down the path, Hadvar pointing out various landmarks along the way.

One of these landmarks were three momuent stones standing by the side of the road. “These are the Guardian Stones,” Hadvar said. He walked over and patted one of them. “My sign’s the Warrior. I always touch this stone for good luck when I pass here.”

Luis smiled. “I was born under the Lord. It’s one of the Warrior’s charges, I think.”

Hadvar laughed. “Huh. Would’ve pegged you for a Mage kid. Still, I’m sure the extra constitution still comes in handy.”

Luis cocked his head. “You believe in that stuff?”

“You don’t?”

Luis shrugged. “I mean, I would. But I was a sickly kid. Which makes no sense if I’m supposed to be healthier.”

“But imagine how much worse it might’ve been under a different sign!”

Luis laughed. “I guess I can’t argue with that.”

---

Riverwood was a nice town, about the size of Dragon Bridge. Like Dragon Bridge, it wasn’t big enough to have the interior streets paved or have walls. That sort of thing was reserved for the hold capitals.

Hadvar led Luis down the central street to a house with a forge attached to it. At the forge was a man with dirty-blonde hair, hammering away at a piece of metal. “Uncle Alvor! Hello!”

The hammering man stopped and looked up. Luis was surprised. Alvor’s features were much rounder and longer then Hadvar’s.

If Hadvar hadn’t called him Uncle, Luis would never have guessed the two were related.

Alvor set down his tools and wiped his hands on his apron. “Hadvar! What are you doing here? I thought your leave wasn’t until…” He startled as the two came closer. “Shor’s bones! What happened to you? And who’s this?” He nodded to Luis.

Hadvar smiled and clapped Luis on the shoulder. “A friend. Saved my life, in fact.” His expression turned serious. “But we should go inside to talk.”

Alvor sighed. “Alright, come inside, both of you. Sigrid’ll get you two something to eat and you can tell me about it.” He walked over to the front door of the house and opened it. “Sigrid! We have company!”  He then gestured for the two men to come inside.

The house was cozy and was large enough to have a second-story loft. Near the hearth, a woman with rusty hair and a young girl with brown hair sat. The woman was stirring some kind of broth. The young girl looked bored but perked up as Luis and Hadvar entered. “Hadvar!” she yelled, running over.

Hadvar grinned and knelt down to catch the young girl in a hug. “Hey! How’s my favorite cousin doing?”

“I’m your only cousin!”

The woman looked up and smiled. “Hadvar! Good to see you. Who’s your friend?”

Luis waved. “Hello. I’m Luiseth Sadri. But most people just call me Luis. Are you Miss Sigrid?”

The woman nodded, chuckling. “That would be me.”

“And I’m Dorthe!” said the young girl. “Are you in the Legion too?”

Luis blushed. “Er…no. I was just passing through town when…well…” he looked to Hadvar. “Maybe you should explain.

Alvor took a seat at the dining room table. “So, what’s the story? What are you doing looking like you lost an argument with a cave bear?”

Hadvar sat down heavily in one of the chairs. Apparently the adrenaline from their escape had worn off because he looked exhausted. Luis felt his body start to feel heavier as well, and he also took a seat.

Hadvar blew out a large breath. “I’m not quite sure where to start…well, you know I was assigned to General Tullius’ guard. We were stopped in Helgen when it was attacked…by a dragon.”

Alvor raised an eyebrow. “A dragon? You aren’t drunk, are you boy?”

“I…it’s true!” yelped Luis. “I was travelling through town, like I said, and I saw it as well! The whole place burned…”

Sigrid shivered, pouring the broth into bowls and getting out slices of bread. “Mara’s mercy, a dragon…what happened after that?”

Hadvar shook his head. “There’s not much more to tell. Like Luis said, the dragon just sort of flew over and wrecked the whole place. There was mass confusion and panic…I don’t even know if anyone else got out alive. I probably wouldn’t have gotten out alive if it weren’t for Luis…”

Luis shook his head rapidly, blushing again. “What are you talking about? Y…you practically carried me out of there!” He looked at Alvor. “Don’t listen to him, he would’ve been fine on his own.”

Hadvar chuckled. “I’d have had my head caved in by a mace if you weren’t there. Don’t put yourself down like that.” Luis blushed even harder. “Anyhow, I need to get back to Solitude and tell them what’s happened. I was hoping you could help us. Food, a place to stay, that kind of thing.”

Alvor nodded. “Of course!” He turned to Luis. “Any friend of Hadvar’s is a friend of ours.”

Luis smiled. “Thank you very much.”

---

“So, how did Ulfric end up captured anyways?” asked Luis after dinner.

Hadvar grinned, polishing an apple on his sleeve. “A masterstroke by General Tullius. He’s only been in Skyrim for a few months, but he’s turned things around!” He bit into the apple and chewed thoughtfully. “We’ve been trying to capture Ulfric since the war started. But he always seemed to slip away, like he knew we were coming…”

Luis sighed. “Spies?”

Hadvar nodded. “Most likely. Well, this time the General turned the tables on him. He rode right into our ambush with only a couple of bodyguards. Surrendered pretty meekly too. So much for his ‘death or glory’ reputation.”

Luis’ stomach twisted and he scowled. “That…that hypocrite! All his talk about how the Empire should’ve pushed back, and he can’t be bothered to do the same?”

Hadvar blinked and flinched back in surprise. “That turned around quick. Are you alright?”

Luis took a deep breath, rubbing his face. “I…yeah, sorry. My mom and I used to live in Windhelm, you see. But…” He thought. Hadvar wouldn’t judge him, right? Not for this? He seemed so nice… “I…” Luis sighed. “Well, you’ll probably find out eventually from your commander…”

Hadvar stared at him, squinting and frowning. “Wait…don’t tell me you’re Ulfric’s bastard child or something!”

Luis stopped. Then he burst out laughing. “No! No no no, thank the gods, no!” He giggled until his cheeks hurt. “No…I…” He shook his head to sober up. “Ulfric’s my uncle. My father was Niejorn Stormcloak, the previous Jarl of Windhelm.”

Hadvar sighed in relief. “Oh…okay, okay.” He chuckled. “That makes a bit more sense. I can deal with that.” He looked at Luis. “Still, I’m surprised…I’ve heard things about the people of Eastmarch feel about elves.” He put up his hands. “I mean I’m sure your father was different-”

 “No, you’re about right. My grandfather and Father were trying to change that. But Ulfric…” Luis shook his head. “Well, that’s why my mom took me and left. She didn’t think it was safe for either of us there anymore. Not without Father.”

Hadvar sighed. “Oh…I’m sorry to hear that. I guess you know from personal experience what Ulfric is like, then.”

Luis nodded. “That’s what makes me so mad! All those people standing in front of the block this morning? He tricked them! He told them they're fighting for Skyrim, but...they're not! It was bad enough when he was talking about it around the palace, but now he’s actually getting people killed? I just…I wish he’d give up and go home. And nobody would have to die.” Luis sighed. “Mom’s still scared stiff of him, you know. After what happened with the High King, she refused to let me go to Solitude. Even though they cracked down on security afterwards…just the fact that he was there, that he was this close to our new home…”

Luis shook his head. “Ah! Sorry, you didn’t ask for my entire background, did you?” He wasn't sure why he'd spilled his guts to Hadvar. Maybe he was just naturally trustworthy, or...

Hadvar smiled. “You needed to get that off your chest, huh?”

Luis groaned. “Yeah. Probably. I was supposed to go to Winterhold, and I was hoping to forget about all the Civil War…but…” He waved his hand. “You know…”

Hadvar’s brow furrowed. “Winterhold? Oh, right. The mage’s college.”

Luis nodded. “I was supposed to go from Helgen to Whiterun…” Then he remembered what he’d said to Alvor. That he’d warn the Jarl. “I guess I’m going to do that, just in a different way then I thought.” He chuckled softly. He put his head in his hands. “Ugh…this day…”

Hadvar leaned back. “No kidding.”

Luis suddenly remembered something. “S’wit! I need to write to Mom! She’ll hear what happened at Helgen, no doubt!”

Hadvar nodded. “I can stop at Dragon Bridge on my way back to Solitude. I can tell her what happened.”

Luis could’ve cried with relief. “You’d do that? Thank you!” He shook his head. “I don’t want her to worry about me…”

Hadvar smiled. “You’re a good son. She’s lucky to have you.”

“…thank you.”

Notes:

I thought about keeping Luis' relation to Ulfric a secret for a bit longer, but also like Luis said Hadvar probably would have found out from Tullius. I doubt Tullius wasn't told that "hey Ulfric's sister in law lives in the town like two hours over".

Chapter 4

Summary:

Whiterun time, and then Luis finally gets to Winterhold

He was running. No…that wasn’t right.

He was being pulled. Pulled along by a hand much bigger then he.

He looked back. He always looked back. Even though in the back of his head he knew it was a mistake. Because he knew what he would see.

His mother, stabbed through the chest. The elf in glass armor pulled his sword out of her.

He screamed. He tried to. But a hand stifled his cries as he was lifted. “Hush!” said a woman’s voice. “Hush!”

He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t move.

Hadvar awoke, grasping at his chest and gasping. He closed his eyes again, swallowing a few times to try to calm himself. His fingers went to the ring on a string around his neck. Mama…

He hated that nightmare. Hated it. He could never get back to sleep after that.

Hadvar sighed and sat up again. It wasn’t even light out yet. Maybe he could get the fire going before everyone woke up…

Then his eyes adjusted and he nearly had a heart attack. Someone was in the kitchen. Just standing there.

Hadvar reached slowly for his sword, which was sitting in its sheath near the nightstand. He slowly slid his legs out from under the blanket as he slid the sword partway out of its sheath as he approached the figure. It still wasn’t moving, and it didn’t seem to see him, even when he was close enough to see his face.

It was Luis.

Hadvar let out a breath of relief, and a little laugh. Right. Luis. “Luis? You nearly scared the crap out of me.” Luis didn’t reply. “…Luis?”

Luis was just standing in the middle of the room, staring off into space. Hadvar snapped his fingers in front of his face. No response. “Luis? Hey, wake up!”

Luis seemed to be whispering something under his breath, but Hadvar couldn’t make it out. It was kind of freaky, Hadvar wasn’t gonna lie.

---

It started out as the same dream he’d had many times before: a burning town, cobblestone roads. A great beast flying through the skies. A large portal with flames behind it.

People running, screaming. Alien beings running around, killing people. A booming voice: “Find him! Kill him! Our lord will reward you in Paradise!”

The gates in the walls of the town seemed to have disappeared, leaving everyone trapped in a deadly stone circle.

But people had to be coming, they had to!

He took someone’s hand and ran to the chapel. Even inside the sturdy building, they could hear the screaming from outside, smell the burning.

He couldn’t do anything. He wasn’t a fighter.

Was this a punishment for his past? He thought he’d made up for it but-

He knelt at the alter and prayed. “Please, send help. Please. If this is my punishment, let it be on me. Don’t make everyone else suffer!”

Then fire surrounded him and filled his vision.

Normally the dream ended here. But this time, he heard someone yelling. A woman. She sounded upset. He couldn’t make out what she was saying.

Then another voice. Old, loud, resonant. “Kos tiid, Thurviinnus. Praad.”

Luis started awake in a cold sweat. “Ah!”

He heard a thump beside him. “Talos’ beard! That’s second scare you’ve given me!”

Luis turned to see Hadvar on the ground beside a chair, rubbing his rear end. “Sorry…” said Luis sheepishly.

It was then that Luis realized he wasn’t in bed. And standing straight up. “Oh…Shor’s balls, not again!” He looked at Hadvar apologetically. “Sorry…this hasn’t happened in a while.”

Hadvar looked at him, a wry smile on his face. “You sleepwalk?”

Luis rocked back and forth. “I…haven’t, for a while. It used to happen a lot when I was a kid. But I haven’t done it in years.” He had the dream regularly, but the actual walking hadn’t happened. “What are you doing up?”

Hadvar looked away. “I…couldn’t sleep. And I woke up to see someone standing in the kitchen so…”

If Luis had been more awake, he might’ve found this suspicious. But given he had just woken up, he accepted this explanation without complaint. “I can’t blame you. I’m surprised I got to sleep at all.”

Hadvar sighed. “Yeah. I wouldn’t be surprised if you had a nightmare and it just reawakened that old habit.” He winced. “Er…no pun intended. Come on, let’s get back to bed. The sun won’t be up for hours yet.”

---

The day after next, Luis and Hadvar found themselves facing down a very imposing Dunmer in heavy armor. Hadvar had decided to accompany Luis since he’d never been to Whiterun before. “It’s a pretty easy place to navigate, but it’d still be better if there was someone who knows people.”

Luis, of course, accepted. He appreciated the help, and plus it meant he got to spend more time with Hadvar.

So together they stood before Jarl Balgruuf the Greater, the Jarl of Whiterun. Well, more specifically, they tried to stand before him but were stopped by his very intimidating Dunmer housecarl. She had her hand on the hilt of her sword and a face like stone. “Jarl Balgruuf is not receiving visitors,” she snapped.

Luis flinched back because holy Shor this woman was imposing. “But it’s important!”

The Dunmer rolled her eyes. “That’s what the Legion said the last time the walked in here.” She gave Hadvar a hard look. “The gate guards might not recognize Legion fatigues, but I do.”

Hadvar winced. He’d hidden his armor in his travel pack specifically to avoid this situation. “This isn’t about the Legion.”

“We came from Riverwood,” gasped out Luis. “And they’re worried that they’ll be next after what happened with Helgen!”

Hadvar nodded in confirmation. “We were both at Helgen, but managed to escape to Riverwood. My uncle lives there, and he sent us to get…to ask for help from the Jarl.”

The Dunmer looked at them closely, probably watching for any sign of deceit. But finally, she sighed, nodded, and sheathed her sword. “I see. Well, that explains why the guards let you through the gate in the first place. In that case, the Jarl will want to speak to you personally.”

Saying that, she turned and walked back towards the throne where the Jarl was sitting. She said something to him that the two men couldn’t hear clearly, but whatever it was, the Jarl nodded and gestured for Hadvar and Luis to come forward. He gave them a hard look as they did.

“So. You two were at Helgen? You both saw this dragon with your own eyes?”

Hadvar bowed, and Luis mimicked him after a moment. “Yes, my Jarl,” said Hadvar. “The Imperial Legion was about to execute Ulfric and the Stormcloaks…but then the dragon attacked.”

"The Legion was trying to fight it, but nothing could scratch it," whispered Luis. "Everything was burning...it was horrible!"

The jarl had a dark look on his face. "I see..." He turned to a man beside him, an Imperial dressed in fine green clothes. "What say you now Proventus? Shall we continue to trust in the strength of our walls? Against a dragon?"

"My Jarl," said the Dunmer. "We should sent a detachment to Riverwood at once! If that dragon is still around, its in the most danger."

"But the Jarl of Falkreath will take that as a provocation! He'll think we've joined Ulfric's side and are going to attack!"

"Proventus, I will not sit idly by while this dragon burns my hold and slaughters my people!" The jarl nodded to the Dunmer. "Irileth, send a detachment to Riverwood at once."

Irileth nodded, and Luis could see Hadvar visibly relax. "Thank you, my Jarl."

The Jarl looked down at the two men. "Well done. You both sought me out on your own initiative. May I have your names?"

Hadvar nodded. "Hadvar of Riverwood, my Jarl. Nephew of Alvor the Smith."

Luis bowed. "Luiseth Sadri of Dragon Bridge."

"Thank you both, Hadvar, Luiseth. You've done Whiterun a great service. I won't forget it."

---

Despite the dragon news, the Bannard Mare was still lively that night. "You're not going back home?" Luis asked Hadvar.

Hadvar shook his head. "No, I need to catch a carriage to Solitude as soon as possible. Whiterun's the best place to do that."

Luis nodded. "I guess I'll be heading to Winterhold tomorrow as well." Why did this feel so bittersweet? He'd only known Hadvar for three days at most!

"Hey, Hadvar?" Luis asked. "Um..." Gods why was this so awkward. "If I were to write to you...where should I send the letter?"

Hadvar blinked. "Huh? Oh yeah, it might be better to keep each other updated on the dragon situation."

Luis blinked. "Right! Yes! That!"

"Just sent it to Castle Dour. They're usually good at getting mail to us even if we're stationed elsewhere."

Luis nodded. "Right. I guess its the same for me, but with Winterhold Col-"

Luis was cut off when he heard a voice. "For the last time, Mikeal, back off or I'll put a dagger in your throat!"

"Ah, such a feisty woman!" came another voice. "You cannot resist me forever!"

Luis scowled. "Shor's bones, not this guy again!" He walked to where the conversation was happening to see a blonde Nord with a lute looming over a brunette Nord woman. "Hey! Cut it out!"

Mikeal turned to look at Luis and scowled. "Do you mind? I am trying to woo a woman here!"

"No, he's being a creep," said the woman.

Luis took a deep breath and looked Mikeal in the eyes. "Four Shields Tavern, 4E 193. I was eleven years old. Remember me?"

Mikeal went extremely pale. "Um...I've gotta go..." And he ran out of the tavern so fast he almost left an afterimage.

"What was that about?" asked Hadvar, who had come up behind Luis.

The woman stood up. "Thanks for that. He is such a scumbag. How'd you get him to be afraid of you?"

Luis blushed. "Oh...that. Well...long story short, he showed up at the tavern where my mom works. And he started bothering her. And I...may have set his pants on fire for doing that."

Hadvar burst out laughing.

---

It took a few days for Luis to finally reach his original destination: Winterhold College. As Luis walked through the capital, he looked around sadly. His father had told him how Winterhold used to be important and rich, the original capital of Skyrim. Now this place looked even smaller then Riverwood.

The Great Collapse really did do a number on this place, thought Luis sadly. Jarl Korir had occasionally come to events in Windhelm when Luis was young. Even back then, Luis had a perception of him as a bitter old man. This was probably why.

Luis kept his hood up and tried to make his way through the town as quickly as possible. Luckily, no one stopped him and he was able to make it to the stone ramp that led up to the College Bridge.

As he reached the top, however, his way was blocked by a stern-looking Altmer woman with her hair pulled back into pigtails. "Cross the bridge at your own peril! The way is blocked, and you shall not gain entry!"

Luis did a double take. "Er...what? I'm sorry, I'm not here to cause trouble. I'm here to enroll?"

The Altmer woman seemed to relax as he said that. "Oh. Is that so? Apologies. The Jarl's been whipping some of the guards into a frenzy, saying that they should...well, never mind. Suffice to say we've been having some people with the locals." Luis winced. "Don't worry, they won't be getting in so long as the College Guards and I are here."

Faralda had Luis demonstrate some magic for her to check his skill, and when Luis demonstrated a sufficient Firebolt, she led him inside.

"Mirabelle!" called Faralda. "We have one more!"

Ahead of them in the courtyard with a Breton woman with chin length brown hair. Luis' stomach clenched as he saw who she was talking to. Thalmor. He'd know those black and gold robes anywhere.

Mirabelle turned around. "Ah, Faralda. Thank you, I can take him from here." She turned back to the Thalmor. "Remember, Ancano. You are a guest, here at the pleasure of the Archmage. I hope you appreciate this opportunity."

Ancano the Thalmor stood stiffly. "Yes. Of course, the Archmage has my thanks." How could he fit so much smugness into such a short sentence? It must be an art form.

"Good. Then we're done here." Mirabelle turned her back on Ancano and walked towards Faralda and Luis. "Thank you Faralda. I can take him from here."

Faralda walked back towards the gate and Mirabelle turned to Luis. "Welcome to the College. I'm surprised how many new students there are lately...I would've thought the war would've slowed down enrollment more. In any case, may I have your name?"

"Luiseth Sadri, miss. But most people just call me Luis."

"Well met, Luis. My name is Mirabelle Ervine, the Master Wizard of the College. I'll go ahead and show you where you'll be staying, and then you can get to the first lecture."

---

"Our lecturer's late," sighed a female Dunmer as Luis walked into the lecture hall.

"If he does not show in the next fifteen minutes, that means we can leave, yes?" came another voice with a heavy Elswyer accent.

"I don't think that's how it works, J'zargo."

As Luis reached the middle of the lecture hall, he could see the group that was speaking to one another. There were three students: a tall male Nord, a female Dunmer, and a Khajit with grey fur who Luis assumed must be J'zargo.

"Hello?" asked Luis. "Is this the lecture hall?"

The three students turned around to see the newcomer. "This is the Hall of Elements, yes." said the Dunmer. "Are you a student here too?"

Luis nodded. "Luis Sadri. I just got here today. There were...travel delays."

"Nice to meet you," the Dunmer pointed to herself. "I'm Brelyna Maryon." She pointed to the Khajit. "This is J'zargo." She pointed to the Nord, who had yet to speak. "And this is Onmund."

Onmund looked Luis up and down, his eyes widening. "Hey...hey! You're a Nord, right?"

J'zargo stared at Onmund. "Yes Onmund, the one with purple eyes is a Nord. Obviously."

Onmund did a double take. "But, he kinda looks like-"

Luis shrugged. "I mean, I'm half-Nord technically, but-"

He was cut off by Onmund squeezing all the air out of his lungs with a hug. "I thought I'd be the only Nord here! I'm so happy!"

"That's...great!" Luis gasped out. "Only half Nord though! Guys, help!"

Notes:

Kos tiid, Thurviinnus. Praad – (it) is time, king-shine-statue. awake

Chapter 5

Summary:

The group goes to Saarthal and learns some things. Including the fact that Onmund can't pronounce the word "Psijic"

Luis groaned as he picked up yet another ring. “I be Phinis won’t be happy with this one, either…”

It was a week after the first lecture. After listing to Tolfdir talking about safety and only being able to practice wards (which Luis was plenty good at already), the field trip to Saarthal should have been a welcome relief. As it was, Luis had been assigned to work with Arniel Gane, who was about the crankiest Dwemer expert Luis had ever encountered. “Don’t break anything!” he’d snapped at Luis, as if he was berating a naughty child and not a nineteen-year-old mage in training.

So off Luis went, through the catacombs. Occasionally, he would run into one of the other students. Onmund, nervous about violating a tomb. J’zargo, not so nervous, to say the least. And Brelyna who was studying the wall carvings.

But recently, he hadn’t run into anyone at all. Even when he was walking around alone, Luis could usually hear people talking in the distance. But now it had gone as silent as…well, a tomb.

Never yell in a tomb, Luis had been told. Be respectful of the dead. But what if they had left without him? They couldn’t have left without him, right?

“Hello?” Luis called quietly. Even quiet, it still echoed off the walls. “Onmund? Brelyna? J’zargo? Master Tolfdir?”

No response. “Hello?” Luis called, a little louder.

He hated this. He thought oppressive, silent stone walls couldn’t be more intimidating than the Palace of Kings after his father had died. Even though there were people there, that time, it still felt empty. Hollow.

This somehow felt even worse. “Anyone?” Luis called out, even louder now. “Hello?”

It was cold, so cold. Had the tomb been this cold before?

No, this wasn’t regular cold. It was different. Luis couldn’t put his finger on how but…

It was wrong. Something felt wrong.

And he turned the corner and saw it. Arniel Gane was leaning over his table, still as a statue. Behind him stood a woman in warm clothing covered in dust, maybe and archeologist. She was also still.

“Hello?” Luis walked over and touched the woman’s shoulder. She didn’t react at all. He waved his hands in front of her face, then Gane’s.

Nothing. Not even a blink. Not even a breath.

Luis felt it in his bones. No, not his bones. Somewhere even deeper. This was wrong, wrong, wrong!

Luis threw all warnings to the wind and began sprinting through the halls, yelling. “Someone! Anyone! Are you awake! Please!” He couldn’t be the only one unfrozen! He just couldn’t!

Then, as he passed by a small alcove he stopped. He heard talking. He turned towards a small side tunnel that he hadn’t seen before. Had it been there before? He could’ve sworn he passed this alcove…

Well, whatever. He made haste down the tunnel, towards the talking.

“…Judgement has not been passed, as you had no way of knowing. Judgement will be passed on your actions to come, and how you deal with the dangers ahead of you.” The voice was that of an older male.

Luis turned the corner and finally saw who was talking. There was a glowing projection of a High Elf dressed in robes. Standing in front of him with a freaked-out look on his face was Onmund. Tolfdir was there too, and appeared to be frozen in the same way that Gane and the archeologist lady were.

“Who are you?” yelled Luis, interrupting the elf. “What did you do to everyone? Onmund, get away from him!”

The elf startled, turning to Luis. “What? How are you…? You should be…? Never mind. Do not fear, we mean no harm.” He turned back to Onmund. “The Psijic Order wishes you luck. Know that we believe in you, and we will be watching.”

The apparition disappeared, and the cold receded. “I…swear I felt something very strange just then,” said Tolfdir as he started moving again.

“Master Tolfdir, you’re alright!” said Onmund.

“Wait, what just happened? Why did everyone get frozen? Who in Shor’s hairy balls are the Psijic Order?” Luis began rocking back and forth rapidly, his eyes wide. “I’m freaking out!”

“The Psijic Order?” questioned Tolfdir. “What on Nirn are you talking about?”

“When we walked in here, you froze and a projection appeared. He said there was some kind of danger here and mentioned something about ‘the Physic Order wishes you luck’.”

“Psyjic,” Luis corrected.

“And in the middle of that, Luis ran in and started yelling.”

“Everyone else upstairs was frozen, too! Like you were!”

Tolfdir frowned. “Frozen? And the Psijic Order? Why? They shouldn’t have any connection to these ruins.” He looked around the room. Besides what looked to be an altar in the middle in the room, the walls were lined with coffins. Tolfdir walked up to one and touched it. “I wonder…”

“Wait!” yelled Luis and Onmund.

But it was too late. The coffins all fell open. And stumbling out of them came skinny, withered, grey corpses. All of them wielded weapons.

“Shor’s hairy balls!” hissed Luis under his breath. “I should’ve kept looking for Gane’s stuff!”

(LINEBREAK)

“Let us never do that again,” said Luis later, after all the students stumbled back to the college.

“If I never see the inside of a tomb again, it’ll be too soon,” groaned Onmund, nursing sore shoulder.

“J’zargo didn’t think it was that bad.”

“You weren’t there for half of it!” Luis protested. “You got frozen!”

“Ah, yes. The mysterious time freezing spell,” said J’zargo. “That hit everyone except you and Onmund.”

“I can see why they didn’t hit Onmund,” noted Brelyna. “Since they were talking to him. But why didn’t it hit Luis?”

“I don’t know,” Luis admitted. “The projection…mage…elf...seemed just as confused as I was.”

“I still don’t get why the Physics-“

“Psijics,” corrected Brelyna.

“Are interested in those ruins at all,” said Onmund. “I mean, I guess it must be the orb, right?”

“That’s my guess,” agreed Brelyna. “It certainly looked powerful, though in what way I can’t say.”

Luis shook his head. “I didn’t like it. Just looking at it made my head hurt.”

“Yeah, you didn’t look too good in that room,” Brelyna noticed. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

Luis waved her off. “I’m fine. I don’t think the flashing light was good for me.”

What Luis didn’t say was that the feeling had been worse then a headache. He could swear he heard…things, right on the edge of his hearing in that room. And the runes on the orb…he felt like he recognized them…or should have recognized them….

“Well, I don’t care what we found down there,” said Onmund. “I’m going to report this to the Archmage and then its out of my hands. I don’t care what that Physic guy said-“

“Psijic.”

“I’m not having anything else to do with that orb!”

Two days later, the students were tasked with retrieving books that might have information about the orb. Onmund was less then pleased.

Chapter 6

Summary:

We catch back up with Hadvar and learn some of what's been happening on the other side of Skyrim.

Hadvar pushed open the door to the Four Shields Tavern, surprised at how empty it was. Maybe its because of the war, he thought. Disrupting travel, maybe?

Hadvar’s stomach twisted at the thought. They had been so close to ending the war. But then, that dragon…

Where had it come from? Could the Stormcloaks have summoned it somehow? Woke it up? But how? And from where?

Hopefully, either General Tullius or Luis would have some answers.

Speaking of Luis, Hadvar was easily able to find the bard playing at the side of the tavern, a Dark Elf woman with purple eyes and dark hair. She idly blew through her flute, looking tired. She lowered the flute as Hadvar walked up to her. “Got a request?” she asked. “I’ll play anything but ‘Ragnar the Red’ for the five thousandth time.”

Hadvar laughed a bit. ‘Ragnar’ was a classic, but gods it was repetitive. Rumor had it that it was the first song they taught at the Bard’s College after ‘Twinkle Twinkle Little Nirnroot’. “No, I’m actually not staying here. You’re Alerra Sadri, right? Your son sent me.”

Alerra’s eyes widened. “Luiseth?” Hadvar nodded. “Oh Azura…” She beckoned Hadvar into one of the inn rooms and set the flute down on the table. Hadvar looked around and saw the single shelf in the room was absolutely crammed with books. It definitely looked like it would be the shared of a bard and an apprentice mage.

Alerra closed the door and turned to Hadvar. “Is he alright?” she asked, her eyes wide and worried. “The rumors about Helgen aren’t true, are they? About the dragon?”

“Luis is fine. Last I saw he was on his way to the College. He asked me to come back and tell you he was okay.” Alerra breathed a heavy sigh of relief and sat down on a chair. “As for Helgen…well, its true. A dragon attacked. Luis and I both made it out, but I’m not sure about anyone else.”

Alerra gulped. “Reclamations save us…an honest-to-gods dragon? And…is it true Ulfric was there too?”

Hadvar nodded. “We were going to execute him but…the dragon interrupted that.”

Alerra closed her eyes. “Hmph. Ulfric probably woke it up somehow. That would be so fucking typical of him.”

Hadvar was shocked by the sudden amount of bitterness in her voice. But then he remembered what Luis had said. She didn’t think it was safe for either of us there anymore. Not without Father. “We don’t know that for sure. I was headed back to Solitude to check in with General Tullius. And Luis said that once he got to the College he’d do some of his own research. Between those two, I’m sure we’ll figure something out.”

Alerra smiled. “Luis…that’s my boy, always trying to help.” She stood up and fixed her hair. “Thank you for telling me. If there’s anything I can do for you, please, let me know.”

Hadvar shook his head. “That won’t be necessary, but thank you.”

Alerra thought. “If you and the General can’t find anything about dragons, you should try asking at the Bard’s College. It’s got the biggest collection of ancient legends in Skyrim, and Headmaster Viarmo knows the Eddas backwards and forwards.”

“Right. Bard’s College. Got it!” Hadvar turned to leave. “I ought to make my way to Solitude and meet up with the General. Luis said he’d sent letters when he got to Winterhold.”

Alerra nodded. “Thank you again…I didn’t catch your name.”

“Hadvar of Riverwood.”

“Thank you, Hadvar.”

---

As soon as Hadvar left, Alerra sat down heavily on the bed and put her head in her hands. A dragon. An honest-to-gods dragon. And it had nearly killed her son!

Alerra was worried from the start. She couldn’t help it, she had always worried after Luis. From the time he was young, he would constantly get sick. There was talk, for a while, about him possibly not making it past the first winter.

But even after he had, he was still small and somewhat weak. And that wasn’t even getting into the nightmares…and the occasional seizures…

You ought to have they boy exorcised, Ulfric had said. That’s some evil daedric influence, that is.

What are you, nuts? Nierjorn Stormcloak had said. You know how brutal those can be! It would kill him!

Nierjorn had always been more levelheaded than his brother. Alerra smiled fondly as she remembered. Even with improving relations between the Dunmer refugees and the rest of Windhelm, actually marrying one had been an unprecedented move. Alerra had heard complaining, of course. How dare an elf and her mongrel spawn live there? What would Ysgramor say?

Alerra hadn’t cared what Ysgramor, or anyone else, said at the time. Of course, she was concerned for Luis, but only for his health and social life, never his safety. They were part of the Jarl’s family, after all. They were untouchable.

At least, until the plague hit. As awful as it had been, no one thought the Jarl himself would die. But of course, he had to go out and try to help personally. He had never been hands-off. But he’d seemed invincible, at the time.

Until he wasn’t. He fell ill, and a week later, he was gone. Ulfric was on the throne.

As soon as the quarantine lifted on the city, Alerra took Luis and left. And they’d run and run until they got to the last place Alerra remembered feeling safe: the Bard’s College in Solitude.

But even Solitude didn’t feel safe anymore. Ulfric’s fault, once again. “You just had to make a point, didn’t you, Ulfric?” Alerra muttered.

And Korir, Jarl of Winterhold, was one of Ulfric’s most vocal allies… “Stop it!” Alerra hissed to herself. “Knock it off! Ulfric won’t attack the College! Winterhold isn’t that strategically important! Luis will be fine!”

Luis would be fine. He wouldn’t get involved in the war of his own choosing, and Ulfric would never bring his “mongrel” nephew back to the Palace as an heir.

He was safe from politics.

---

General Tullius sat at his desk, hovering his pen over a piece of parchment. He took a deep breath and wrote:

Your Imperial Majesty,

As you know, we were able to mostly rout the rebel forces in Western Skyrim. We had a grand success in capturing Ulfric Stormcloak and a group of his rebel Stormcloak forces.

As you ordered, and as I agreed, we took them to the nearest town (the town of Helgen in our case) and prepared to execute them.

However, things did not go as planned.

Tullius stared at the parchment for a few seconds. “Ugh, that’s the understatement of the era,” he grumbled, crumpling up the parchment to join the many other discarded ones on his desk.

How did one tell the emperor they had failed? More importantly, how did one tell them they failed because of a legendary creature that hadn’t been seen since the founding of the current Empire?

Tullius knew the stories. Any Imperial did. The story of how Saint Alessia was given the Dragon’s Blood to found the First Empire. Then Reman, who founded the second. Then Tiber Septim, who founded the Third.

But there was a difference between knowing all that and seeing an actual real life dragon burn down a town, take hundreds of lives, and let an important political prisoner escape. And there was certainly a difference between talking about dragons in theory and telling the godsdamned emperor that one had attacked a town.

“General Tullius?” A guard peeked into the room. “Someone here to see you. Lieutenant Hadvar?”

General Tullius looked up and nodded. “Send him in.” He couldn’t help but breathe a sigh of relief as he saw the Sergeant peek his head in. The General didn’t know everyone in the Legion by name of course, but he made an effort to at least remember the names of those in his cohort, his guard. He was fighting directly with them, after all.

He liked Hadvar. The kid worked hard, and was good with organization and requisitioning supplies. And…well, there was something familiar about him. Something the General couldn’t quite place.

But that was beside the point. He nodded again as Hadvar came in and saluted. “Reporting for duty sir!”

“At ease, Lieutenant,” said the General. “You made it safely out of Helgen, then?”

“Yes sir. More or less.”

The general looked up. “I don’t see anyone else with you. Did you escape alone?”

“No sir. I escaped with a civilian staying in town at the time. He was an apprentice heading to the College of Winterhold.”

“…did this apprentice have a name?” Odd. Hadvar usually didn’t omit details like that.

“Luis Sadri, sir.”

Oh. That explained it. Hadvar must’ve known. “Sadri…I can’t imagine that’s a very common family name. Half Nord, Half Dunmer?”

Hadvar looked nervous. “You know him, sir?”

“I know of him. He’s Ulfric’s nephew.” The General let himself smirk. “But you must have known that, too. Otherwise, you would’ve told me his name.” Hadvar looked sheepish and rubbed the back of his head. “At ease. I’m not planning on going after the kid as long as he stays out of the war.”

The General had met with Alerra Sadri when he had first arrived in Haafingar. He had wanted to gauge if she had any remaining loyalty to Windhelm, if not to Ulfric himself.

She had wanted nothing to do with him. Or Ulfric. “Mount his head on your wall if you want, I don’t particularly care. I just want to stay here and not be bothered by this stupid war."

Behind her in the shadows had stood Luis. A lean, pale-half elf, purple eyes large behind round glasses. He had said nothing, but watched Tullius carefully as if he was afraid he might attack his mother.

Tullius hadn’t, and he’d been on his way shortly thereafter. So Alerra had been telling the truth, then. For both herself and her son.

“Anyhow,” said the General. “Onto the business at hand. Obviously we need to do damage control. We’re sending another offer to Jarl Balgruuf. Hopefully this time, he’ll accept. And furthermore, we must find out where that dragon came from, and quickly!”

“Do you think Ulfric…summoned it somehow?”

General Tullius sighed. “We can’t say for sure, yet. If he did something, I doubt he did it on purpose. And…there is another option.” Of course, he couldn’t say the other option out loud. Even here, you never knew who was listening in. “But enough idle speculation. We need to find a lead.”

“If I may, sir,” Hadvar said. “I met Alerra Sadri on my way here, and she suggested the Bard’s College as a possible source.”

Tullius nodded. “Not a bad idea. It’s closer than the College at any rate. But for now, head back to the barracks and wait for your next assignment. Get some rest, you’ve earned it. Dismissed.”

Hadvar nodded. “Yes sir. Thank you, sir.”

As Hadvar left, he passed by an Altmer with shoulder length curly hair, dressed in Penitus Oculatus armor. Hadvar saluted him as well as he left, and the Altmer nodded in return.

Hadvar closed the door behind himself, leaving the General and the Altmer alone.

The general nodded. “Agent Chamire.”

“General Tullius.”

“Please tell me you have some good news. Or at least a way to tell the emperor that we lost a whole town and Ulfric to a dragon?”

The agent shook his head. “Can’t help with that, unfortunately. I do have a source in Whiterun that says the court mage has a bit of a dragon obsession. It might be worth asking him when you deliver that message.”

The general groaned. “Dammit! I can deal with Ulfric. I can deal with war! But a dragon? Why? And how?”

“We’ll keep our ears to the ground,” said the agent. “On that note, I think I might be making progress on my other assignment as well.”

The general started. “Are you serious? You don’t mean…”

“I do.”

Tullius nodded. “Well, lets hope so. We could do with some good news for once.”

Chapter 7

Summary:

The college apprentices get to Dawnstar. The museum attracts J'zargo. Things go downhill from there, but not in the way you might expect.

Notes:

I suddenly have brainworms for this story.

Dear

To

Hello Hadvar,

I hope you got to arrived at Solitude well. I managed to get to Winterhold alright. Between the war and the Great Collapse, the class is small this year. But everyone here is nice. There’s even someone from another Nord student here, which I didn’t expect.

I haven’t had any luck with the dragon research yet, sadly. Everything I can find is a retread of old legends I’ve already heard. I hope you’ve had better luck.

You might’ve heard the rumors about the College digging in Saarthal. The rumors are true, we went down there just recently. Neither Onmund (the Nord student I mentioned earlier) or I were happy about it, but I don’t think we didn’t get cursed so I guess we got lucky.

We found You might have heard There were some strange things down there, but I don’t think I should say much more in this letter. People are watching, even around here. But we’re going to try and find out more.

I hope you are safe well, despite the fighting going on.

Sincerely,

Luiseth Sadri

“It’s called Fellglow Keep,” explained Mirabelle. “The group there used to be part of the faculty until they were discovered doing…offensive experiments. The kind that everyone outside the college thinks we do.”

“I heard those stories,” Onmund clarified later. “I was told that if I came up here, they’d cut me open and pour weird potions inside my body to see what I would do. Or be used as a sacrifice to summon daedra. Or…other, more horrible things.”

The other three students stared at Onmund. “That’s terrible! Where did you live where they said that?” Luis asked.

“…Windhelm,” Onmund admitted, wincing.

“Oh, there.” Luis sighed. “That’s not too surprising, then.”

“They don’t seem to like much of anything, down there.” Brelyna wrapped her arms around herself. “I had to travel through there to get here and I kept getting these looks…”

“Nobody did anything to you, did they?” Luis asked, worried.

“No, but…I sure didn’t feel welcome.” Brelyna looked over to Onmund. “Er…”

Onmund shook his head sadly. “No, you’re right. My family runs a farm just outside the city, and…well…I’ve seen stuff…” He looked away with a look of shame.

J’zargo made a hissing noise of disapproval. “J’zargo thinks he should go to Windhelm. Teach a few lessons. J’zargo is the only one that should be intimidating the other mages!” Brelyna blushed a little bit, but J’zargo didn’t seem to notice.

“It didn’t used to be that way,” said Luis sadly. “I…heard the old Jarl, the one before Ulfric, was married to a Dunmer. But after Ulfric took power…well, I know my mom didn’t feel safe there anymore, so we left.”

That got Onmund’s attention. “You used to live in Windhelm? I thought you looked familiar.”

Luis nodded. “Until I was nine, about. We left right after that…plague that hit.”

Onmund was silent for a bit, tugging on his braids. Then he spoke quietly. “Did you…lose anyone? Is that why you left?”

Luis nodded. “My father…you?”

“My sister. One of them, an older one.”

Luis nodded in understanding. Brelyna and J’zargo looked at the two of them. “Well, this conversation turned into a downer,” J’zargo snarked.

“J’zargo!” scolded Brelyna.

“J’zargo only speaks the truth!”

---

The group unanimously decided that they did not want to go through Eastmarch after that conversation. That left the other major route through the Pale. Well, for a given definition of “major”. Dawnstar was a well-known port, but competition with Solitude and Windhelm meant that it got much less trade.

“Maybe that’s why they allied with the Stormcloaks,” said Brelyna thoughtfully as they began walking (they had to walk because carriages only came to Winterhold carrying students. Most didn’t stick around long enough to take any outgoing people). “Maybe he thinks he can benefit from Windhelm’s trade and not have as much competition from Solitude?”

Luis shrugged. “Maybe.” He didn’t know enough about Dawnstar’s economy to comment further.

Once they got to Dawnstar, they knew they would at least be able to catch a carriage to Whiterun. That was all the group could think about as they hiked through the freezing snow. “At least there’s not a snowstorm!” commented Onmund cheerfully.

As soon as he said that, there was a crack of thunder in the distance and the wind picked up. “Ah. Khenrethi heard you,” snarked J’zargo.

Luis laughed as Onmund blushed. “Sorry,” he said sheepishly.

---

The group managed to hike through the snowstorm for long enough to reach Dawnstar. They pushed through the snow and into the Windpeak Inn. The tavern owner looked up and smiled. “Cold enough out there for you?”

Luis brushed the snow off his shoulders as Brelyna approached the counter. “Hello. Can you tell us when the next carriage to Whiterun takes off?”

The owner shrugged. “Should only be in a day or two, assuming the weather clears up. At least if you don’t mind catching a ride on a lumber cart.”

“In the meantime, you can go visit that museum Silas set up!” someone yelled from a table, laughing.

Another patron, a Dunmer dressed in priest robes, glared at him. “Daedra are not a laughing matter. If that man had any sense he’d close down that ‘museum’ and burn everything inside!”

“Museum?” asked J’zargo, sounding interested.

The owner tapped a flyer that was on the bar. Luis looked over.

Silas Vesuius Presents

The Museum of the Mythic Dawn

A History of The Cult that Toppled the Septim Dynasty

The feeling of cold ice sliding down his back assaulted Luis’ senses. “The…the Mythic Dawn?” he whispered.

“As in, the cult behind the Crisis?” said Onmund, gulping heavily. “What in Oblivion is he thinking?”

The owner shook his head. “Apparently, some of his ancestors were in the cult, and Silus has got it in his head to make it a point of pride that his family was part of history.”

The Dunmer priest simply sighed and took a swig from his tankard. “I’ve tried to talk to him many times, as have others, but he won’t hear of it. Being part of a cult like that…its nothing to be proud of.”

J’zargo snatched up the pamphlet. “You are all ignoring this museum is free!” He practically bounced out the door. “Come, come! Let us see these artifacts! Perhaps there will be something powerful! What could be so bad?”

---

Brelyna had a very bad feeling about this. Telvanni weren’t much for religion, but Mehrunes Dagon was considered one of the Bad Daedra for a reason. She could see it Onmund and Luis’ faces that they thought it was a bad idea too. Luis in particular was looking so pale it was a wonder he didn’t blend in with the snow around them. But all the same, they didn’t want J’zargo to go off alone.

Brelyna and the others followed J’zargo down the snow-covered street until they got to a house that had a large red banner hanging on it. In front of it stood an Imperial man in red robes, arguing with a woman in mage’s robes. “Your ancestors wouldn’t want this, Silus!” the woman was saying as they approached.

“Why should I hide from it?” retorted the Imperial. “This is my family’s legacy!”

“It’s in the past! Dead oaths on dead lips! Let it say there!”

“The museum is opening, Madena!” The Imperial crossed his arms, and his demeanor suggested an end to the conversation. As the group approached, he turned to them, smiling. “Ah! Here come my first vistors! Welcome! The Museum of the Mythic Dawn is open, friends! Come, let’s go inside!”

J’zargo chuckled. “Yes, let’s! J’zargo is eager to see what artifacts you may have!” He grabbed Luis’s arm, who by now seemed to be legitimately ill. “Come along Luis!” The three vanished inside.

The mage, Madena, sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. Looking closer, Brelyna could see under her hood that she was a tired looking Breton. “I hope your friend knows what he’s getting into…”

“What’s with the museum?” asked Onmund. “Why would someone…I mean…”

“Several of Silus’s ancestors belonged to the Mythic Dawn,” Madena explained. “Their involvement was only found out well after the crisis had died down, but it still ruined their reputation. This is Silus’s way of trying to rebuild his family’s reputation. It’s…misguided.”

“You can say that again,” said Onmund.

Madena looked the two up and down. “You wouldn’t happen to be from the College of Winterhold, would you? You finally got my letters, then?”

Brleyna and Onmund looked at each other. “Letters?” asked Brelyna. “I’m sorry, we’re just apprentices. I’m not sure what you’re talking about.”

Madena deflated a bit. “Oh. I hoped…well, never mind. Suffice to say we’ve been having a bit of a problem.”

“With the museum?” asked Onmund.

Madena shook her head. “No, more then that. None of Dawnstar has had a decent night’s rest in days. People keep having nightmares they swear are real, and they go to bed and wake up more tired then yesterday. A priest of Mara came some time ago, saying the Divines would lift the curse, but that…remains to be seen.”

“That’s awful!” said Brelyna. “And you don’t know what’s causing it?”

“No. And…I’m afraid it might be getting worse. If this keeps up-“

Madena was cut off by a scream from inside the museum. The door slammed open, and Luis flew out. His eyes were wide and wild, and he sprinted past everyone and down the street.

Brelyna looked back at J’zargo and Silus, who were still coming down the steps. “What happened?”

“J’zargo does not know! That one was just standing there, looking around, and he suddenly started screaming!”

Brelyna looked around. “S’wit, s’wit, s’wit! Come on!”

“I’ll go get the priest!” Onmund yelled. “You guys find him!”

“W…wait!” cried Silus. “Maybe I can help! It happened in my museum-“

Onmund stared at him. “I think you’ve done enough, frankly,” he said in an icy tone.

“But-“

Onmund ignored the Imperial’s protests and ran back towards the inn.

Chapter 8

Summary:

Turns out going to the Museum of the Mythic Dawn was a bad idea. Who knew, right?

Brelyna and J’zargo tracked Luis’ footprints out of town. They were sprinting, both of them, trying to fight the wind and snow that was still blowing around them.

“Luis!” called Brelyna. “Where are you!”

“Luis, you are out of the museum! You can stop running now!” yelled J’zargo. He’d summoned some fire in his hands, but was having trouble keeping it lit against the strong winds.

They ran across the snowy plains until eventually they ended up in a forest of evergreens. Brelyna pushed some branches out of the way. “Luis?” she called.

Finally, they saw him standing in the middle of one of the forest clearings.

---

The smell of smoke and sulfur assaulted his nose. Shadowy figures darted around him. Screams filled the air.

He felt powerless. He couldn’t do anything except try to run away.

---

Luis was looking around wildly, flame in one hand and ice in another. “Luis!” called Brelyna. “There you are!”

---

Two shadowy figures were coming for him, out of the mist. He panicked, throwing a spell at them. It went wide. “Leave me alone!” he screamed.

---

Brelyna jumped to the side as Luis’ fireball flew past her head. “What in Oblivion? Luis! It’s us!”

“J’zargo does not think he sees us!”

He was right. Now that Luis had turned to face them, Brelyna could see that his eyes were wide and unfocused. He continued to look around wildly. “Who are you?” he screamed. “Why are you doing this?”

---

“Such a powerful nightmare,” purred the shadow towering over him. “Such deep and terrifying memories…” The shadow looked to be of a woman, but he couldn’t see her face. It was obscured as if by a mask. “Let us see what else your mind holds…” The shadow reached towards him…

And it was immediately smacked by a giant golden wing. A golden dragon, just as big as the shadow, appeared and let out a roar, baring its teeth at the shadow.

His head felt like it was about to split in two. He clutched it-

---

Luis stopped throwing fire and ice and clutched at his head, screaming. But there was something wrong with the scream. It didn’t sound human. It sounded animalistic, almost.

Brelyna and J’zargo both stumbled back in surprise. “What in Azurah’s name was that?” yelled J’zargo. Luis cracked one eye open. Even from where she was, Brelyna could see that it was glowing gold. “Oh, that is not good…”

“No s’wit, J’zargo!”

“Vaermina, vuth!” Luis yelled. “Lif sen naalien!” But something was wrong with his voice. It didn’t sound like him, not exactly. There was an undertone, something Brelyna couldn’t place, but that she knew didn’t sound like a mortal should sound.

---

“So it is you,” purred the shadow. “Typical, really. Always so protective of your chosen.” The dragon growled. “Oh, now that’s cute. You and I both know you can’t drive me out on your own. The effort would reduce the poor boy to cinders. And you wouldn’t want that to happen again, would you?”

---

J’zargo rushed forward, now that Luis was distracted. He drew his shortsword and slammed the hilt down onto Luis’ head. Luis fell to the ground, groaning. “J’zargo!” snapped Brelyna.

“What? What else was this one going to do, light him on fire?”

“There they are!” called a familiar voice. “Come on!” Brelyna and J’zargo both turned to see Onmund running towards them, followed closely by the Dunmer in orange robes they had seen back at the tavern.

“Onmund!” yelled Brelyna. “Thank the gods, we don’t know what’s going on!”

The Dunmer ran up and began examining Luis. He bowed his head. “Merciful Mara, guide me to help take care of this child…” He nodded to Onmund. “Help me get him up. We need to take him back to the inn. I can treat him better there.”

---

The blow to the head seemed to have calmed Luis down a bit, as they managed to get him back to the inn without him fighting them too much. On the way back, Brelyna explained what had happened. “It must have been something in that damned museum!” she insisted. “Something in there…I don’t know, cursed him or something…”

“That may be part of it,” said the priest, who had introduced himself as Erandur. “But I believe there may be another cause.”

He refused to elaborate until they were back at the inn and had settled Luis into a bed. Erandur had given Luis a potion that was apparently supposed to help him sleep, but Luis was still thrashing occasionally, eye twitching beneath the lids. He was whispering, too, but luckily it was in a normal voice without the strange undertone Brelyna had heard before. “Jauffre…Baurus…Skilja? Where are you…?”

Onmund’s brow furrowed. “Do you guys recognize any of those names?”

Everyone in the room shrugged. “We’ll deal with that later,” suggested Brelyna. She turned to Erandur. “You said something about another cause?”

Erandur sighed and nodded. “Yes. Forgive me, I was hoping not to have to do this so soon…or at all, to be honest.” The apprentices were silent, waiting for the explanation. “Are you aware of the problems Dawnstar has been facing as of late? You may have heard people talking of nightmares…”

“The mage we met outside the museum told us about them,” said Brelyna. “What does that have to do with Luis?”

“These nightmares come directly from the Daedric Prince Vaermina,” explained Erandur. “She has a hunger for mortal memories. Why I cannot say, but in place of these memories, she leaves nightmares. There’s a tower near here, Nightcaller Temple, that used to be home to a cult dedicated to her. I believe that the source of the nightmares is coming from there.”

Onmund looked over at Luis. “But Luis was awake when this happened. Why would a nightmare artifact affect him then?”

“That I am unsure of. I do believe something in the museum affected him as well. And when it combined with the nightmare power…” Erandur shook his head.

Brelyna closed her eyes. “If we go to Nightcaller Temple…can we stop these nightmares? Can we help Luis?”

Erandur sighed. “I believe so. I don’t know the exact causes behind this, but that, I believe, is the only way to break the curse on this town and save your friend.” He looked away. “I never thought I’d return after all these years?”

“What was that?” asked J’zargo.

“Nothing,” said Erandur quickly. “Are you willing to help me?”

The three apprentices looked at each other. “One of us should stay behind to keep a watch on Luis,” said Brelyna.

“I’ll stay,” said Onmund. “Make sure he doesn’t run off again.” He smiled wryly. “Also, no offense, I don’t feel like tangling with a daedra today, especially a powerful one.”

“One of the thirteen most powerful,” corrected J’zargo. “That is fine by this one. J’zargo shall collect any powerful artifacts.”

Brelyna rolled her eyes and stood up. “By the Reclamations, have you learned nothing? Looking for powerful artifacts was how we got in this mess!” She shook her head and looked at Onmund and Erandur. “Don’t worry. I’ll make sure he doesn’t touch anything he’s not supposed to.”

Erandur nodded. “Excellent. Lady Mara will be most pleased! The temple is but a short walk outside of town. Please, make any preparations you need and meet me in the front of the inn.” Saying that, he started to walk out of the room. Then he stopped and turned around. “I…thank you. I mean it. This means a lot to me.”

“We haven’t even done anything yet,” said Brelyna in a confused voice.

“No, but just agreeing…thank you.” Then he left the room and closed the door behind him.

Onmund walked over to the others. “Brelyna? J’zargo?”

“Hm?”

Both of them yelped as they were pulled into a tight hug by Onmund. “You guys be careful, okay?” whispered Onmund. “I don’t want anyone else getting hurt today. Please?”

After a bit, Brelyna and J’zargo hugged him back. “We’ll be back before you know it,” promised Brelyna as the three shared a proper group hug.

Notes:

Chapter Illustration: https://www.tumblr.com/myhandsarentsmudgediusedigital/703330477384335360/luis-stopped-throwing-fire-and-ice-and-clutched-at

Translation:
Vaermina, vuth!...Lif sen naalien! - Vaermina, stop!..Leave him be!

Chapter 9

Summary:

While shit is going down in Dawnstar, it is also going down in Solitude. Poor Hadvar is not having a good day.

Meanwhile, across the country, Hadvar was late for a meeting. He jogged up to the courtyard of the Blue Palace just as the sun reached its apex. General Tullius stood just outside, looking impatient. “General Tullius!” Hadvar saluted. “I apologize for my tardiness, sir. I was accosted on the way here.”

The general raised an eyebrow. “Accosted? Were you attacked?”

“No sir. The local madman cornered me and...well I didn’t want to be rude...”

The general stared at him, then sighed. “You’re too polite for your own good. Come on, then. Her Highness is waiting.”

Hadvar didn’t miss the slightly sarcastic tone. Even though Elisif was High King Regent, most people didn’t have confidence in her ability to lead. At best, she was too young and traumatized. At worst, she was merely a puppet.

Perhaps that was why she had insisted on meeting General Tullius about the situation at Helgen: to prove she could handle difficult situations. The general had asked Hadvar to come along since he had been there as well, and could talk of things the general might not have seen.

The two soldiers were met in the front hallway by who Hadvar assumed was the steward, a tall man with fiery red hair. “Welcome,” he said politely. “Jarl Elisif awaits you in the Pelagius Wing. Right this way.”

He led them to a door on the left side of the hallway. As he opened it, a cloud of dust came out, causing Hadvar to sneeze. General Tullius turned to the steward. “I was under the impression we would be meeting the Jarl in her office.”

The steward nodded. “I understand. However, considering the...sensitive nature of the meeting, Jarl Elisif believed a more private setting would be appropriate.”

General Tullius looked skeptical, to say the least, but entered the room anyways. Hadvar followed behind.

In front of the two stretched a long hallway, which looked like it had been abandoned for decades. The air was thick with dust and cobwebs covered all the furniture. General Tullius wrinkled his nose as Hadvar sneezed again. “What is she playing at?” he muttered.

“General Tullius,” came a female voice from above them. “Good of you to come.”

Hadvar looked in the direction of the voice to see a slightly built woman with red hair descending the stairs next to them. She wore fine clothes in red, bronze, and brown, and a circlet on her head. “La...Jarl Elisif,” General Tullius corrected himself. “I must admit, I was caught off guard by the choice of location for this meeting.”

The Jarl wilted a bit, but seemed to remember herself and stood up straighter. “I understand. However, if the rumors of what happened are true...I wanted a place where we could speak frankly, without being overheard by the...well, you know.”

Hadvar looked around. “Well, it doesn’t seem that anyone has come in here in a long time, that’s for sure.” 

Hadvar wasn’t sure what to make of Jarl Elisif. He knew his uncle considered her too fragile and easily manipulated to lead Skyrim. She couldn’t be much older than Hadvar himself, looking at her.

“That’s right. Everyone thinks this wing is haunted, so it's been sealed for literal centuries,” Elisif explained. “However, I’ve been here several times and never noticed anything. So we should be safe.”

Pelagius...why was that name bothering Hadvar?

“Now then,” Elisif began walking down the hallway, leaving the other two to follow. “I just want to know two things: was there really a dragon, and can we expect an attack here?”

She seemed to be trying to sound confident, but she was fidgeting nervously. Either General Tullius didn't notice or didn't care, because he looked annoyed at her tone. Finally he sighed. “Yes, the rumors are true. We were executing the Stormcloaks when a dragon swooped in out of nowhere. It scattered our forces and leveled Helgen.”

Elisif swallowed. “And Ulfric? Did he make it out?”

Hadvar was briefly taken aback by her seeming to care more about that than the dragon. But then he remembered why she was Jarl in the first place. Of course she would want to know if her husband's killer was alive.

“The ruins were searched, but his body wasn't found. Combined with the continuing Stormcloak attacks, we can only assume he made it out,” General Tullius pinched the bridge of his nose. The dust was getting thicker the further they walked. Hadvar could hardly see two feet in front of him.

Elisif looked down with a defeated expression. “...I see.” She finally said. “So when-”

She was cut off by the sound of laughter. It was an odd laugh, the kind that went “Oh-hohoho!”

The group finally paid attention to their surroundings again. They were no longer in the Pelagius Wing. 

They instead seemed to be surrounded by woods, with trees stretching in all directions.

General Tullius and Hadvar turned to look at each other. “Lieutenant, what in Oblivion are you wearing?”

Hadvar stifled a laugh at seeing the general’s getup. He was wearing a stiff looking red jerkin on top of a green tunic, with a blue cape round his shoulders. Completing the look was a brown fur trimmed hat that flopped over at the top. “With all due respect, sir, I could ask you the same thing.” 

It wasn't as if the clothes would be out of place at a formal party. It was just hilarious to see Imperial General Tullius wearing “backwards Nord'' clothing. Especially in such garish colors. Hadvar looked down to see that he was dressed similarly, only his jerkin was purple and his tunic was red.

Elisif, whose clothing had remained unchanged, looked wildly around. “What's going on? Where are we?”

“Not in the Pelagius Wing, I assume,” the general snarked.

That was when Hadvar remembered where he'd heard the name Pelagius before. “Talos’ balls. Er, sorry,” he amended, seeing the others’ faces. “Sir, remember how I told you I got accosted by the local madman?”

The general nodded. “Wait, is this somehow his fault?”

“Well...”

Hadvar explained how the madman had begged him to help him find his “master”. Something about how his realm was dying. Hadvar had agreed in order to calm the man. “And then he handed me a pelvis and ran off. I was still carrying it when I came in here, and now...well I just remembered he said something about not being able to get into the Pelagius wing without it...”

“You were carrying around a hip bone?” yelped Elisif.

“I was going to turn it into the Hall of the Dead after the meeting!” Hadvar protested. “On my honor!”

Tullius groaned. “And that hip bone opened some kind of portal? Great.”

Hadvar nodded, his stomach in knots. Whatever way you looked at it, he'd made a horrible mistake that led the General of the Legion and the Intirm High Queen getting spirited off to who knows where.

Elisif sighed. “Well, what do we do now?”

The laugh from before came again, coming from just beyond the trees. Hadvar grabbed for his sword before realizing it wasn't there. Based on the general’s expression, he'd tried to do the same thing.

The group snuck towards the direction of the laugh, at which point they began to be able to make out two voices.

“More tea, Pelly?” asked a woman's voice.

“No, no. I couldn't. Goes right through me,” grumbled a man's voice.

The group eventually reached a clearing and were able to see who was talking. Sitting across from each other at a table laden with food of all kinds were a man and a woman.

The man looked more or less normal, with fine clothes and dishwater blonde hair tied back in a ponytail.

The woman across from him, on the other hand, was wearing the strangest getup Hadvar had ever seen. She wore a top that was short enough to expose her navel and low cut enough to show her cleavage. 

The top was divided in half between a pointy red and black gothic style and a gold and purple jester like style. Her skirt was the same way, but with the patterns on opposite sides. As the woman turned her head, Hadvar could see white hair in a messy bun and a half mask on the right side of her face that resembled a butterfly.

The very strange woman took a sip of tea. “You are far, far too hard on yourself, my dear, sweet, homicidally insane Pelagius.”

“Pelagius?” hissed the general. “As in the Mad Emperor?”

Elisif nodded “That's who the wing is named after. You can see why people avoided it.”

“What would the people do without you?” the woman continued. “Smile? Sing?” She laughed again. “Grow old? You are one of the best Septims that has ever ruled. Aside from Marty, and let's face it, he turned into a dragon! Not really fair to the rest of you, is it? You know, I was there for the whole thing. Butterflies, blood, a severed head...” The woman trailed off and stared into space for a bit. Then she seemed to remember herself and resumed grinning. “Oh, and the cheese! To die for!”

Pelagius scowled, looking very tired of the antics of the woman. “Yes, you've mentioned it countless times...”

The woman crossed her arms and pouted. “Hmph! Well if you're going to be like that, perhaps it's best if I take my leave. A good day to you sir. I said good day!”

Pelagius stood from his chair, then disappeared in a puff of mist. The woman shook her head. “Unbelievable...” she muttered. “Can’t even be bothered to host an old friend for a decade or two...”

That's when she finally seemed to notice the group. “Well well well well well! What do we have here?” She hopped off her chair and stood before them, revealing bare feet. She stared at them with mismatched eyes, one golden and catlike, the other misty and grey. “A queen without a king, a prince without a throne, and some old fart with a medal or two.”

Elisif flinched back while Tullius scowled. Hadvar just felt confused. “Um...right.” Hadvar cleared his throat. “Excuse me, miss? Where are we?”

The woman gestured around them “In the mind of Pelagius the Third, also known as Pelagius the Mad! Surely you've heard of him?”

“The stories say that he tried to outlaw death itself when he was fatally ill,” grumbled the general.

The woman clapped. “Indeed, discount Jauffre, indeed. Death! Outlawed! Inspired, really!”

“Discount who..?”

“You do know who you're dealing with, right?”

“A crazy person?” asked the general.

“Someone who needs to look in a mirror?” muttered Elisif.

The woman pointed at Tullius. “Good guess! But only half right! I'm a mad god. The Mad God as a matter of fact.”

Hadvar felt the blood drain from his face. “You're...you're the Man...er, Woman with a Cane.”

“Indeed!” the woman grinned again, showing all her teeth. “It's a family title, gets passed down from me to myself every thousand years or so. You can call me Ann Marie, but only if you're partial to being flayed alive and having an angry immortal skip rope with your intestines!” She said this in a tone that would be more appropriate for describing her favorite dessert. “If not, then call me Sheogorath, Daedric Prince of Madness! Charmed, I'm sure.”

The queen, general, and soldier all looked at each other. It was clear from the looks on their face that they were all thinking the same thing: We are so fucked.

Notes:

I love making fun of General Tullius (affectionately).

For HOK!Sheo's costume, I took inspiration from the Six musical costumes, since they're based on a similar Shakespearean style the Shivering Isles is in Oblivion (well, Shakespeare plus Las Vegas show).

Chapter 10

Summary:

The group in Solitude goes on a quest for Sheogorath, while Onmund deals with a stranger in his friend's body.

In the end, Sheogorath had challenged them to find the way out by making their way through the mind of Pelagius. Of course, Sheogorath being Sheogorath, there was a catch.

Elisif held the red staff away from her as if she was worried it might explode (given it was from the Madgod, Hadvar wouldn’t be surprised if it actually did). “I'm not too sure about using this. What if I go insane?”

“I don't think we have much of a choice,” General Tullius grumbled, attempting to remove his hat for the fifteenth time. Every time he got it off and threw it away, a new one would appear on his head. “She is a Daedra, after all, so we're subject to her whims.”

“Well maybe you should take it if you’re so agreeable about cooperating with her,” grumbled Elisif.

“Thanks, but I’d rather be able to lead the Legion effectively.”

“Well I’d rather be able to lead my country effectively. Unless you want another Wolf Queen?”

“Well, one of use has to carry the damned thing!”

The two leaders glared at each other for a bit, before slowly turning to look at Hadvar. 

Hadvar sighed in resignation. They better give me a pay raise for this...

So in the end, it was Hadvar who gingerly held the Wabbajack as the group started down the last of three paths. They’d finished the path of Dreams and the path of Confidence, both of which had been relatively simple to solve by zapping the apparitions with the staff. 

“Ah, the path of Paranoia!” came Sheogorath’s voice. “Good choice! Well, good for me. I find everyone being out to get you so terribly entertaining. Of course, you might find it...less so. See, Peligius’ mother was...well, I won’t mince words, she was a shitty mother.” Hadvar couldn’t help but snort at the casual swearing. “I mean, I suppose in the grand scheme of things she was fairly average for a Septim. Explains a lot actually...anyhoo, that woman wielded fear like a cleaver. Or maybe she wielded a literal cleaver, I never get that part right. But she taught her son well. Peligius learned from an early age that danger could come at anytime, from anywhere...and from anyone.”

“How horrible...” Elisif whispered. “Imagine not even feeling safe around your own mother.”

“How do issues with your mother lead you to outlaw death?” wondered General Tullius. “Did he just want a sense of control? But why? He was already emperor. What more control could you need?” He sighed. “Not that it matters now, of course. We just need to get out of here.”

The three eventually came out to a balcony overlooking a large gladiatorial arena. Directly across from the group was Peligius, watching the proceedings down below with a scowl on his face. On either side of him were two armed guards.

Below them, in the arena, two storm atronachs were fighting each other, appearing evenly matched. “The objective here is simple, simpletons!” Sheogorath said. “Use your Wabbajack to defeat the enemy, while they do the same!”

Elisif crossed her arms. “Simpletons?” she asked in an annoyed voice. 

General Tullius shushed her. “Don’t anger the Daedra.”

“Don’t shush me!”

Hadvar just sighed and pointed the Wabbajack at one of the storm atronachs, firing a shot at it. The storm atronach disappeared in a puff of smoke and was replaced by an ice atronach. But no sooner had that happened then the other atronach was replaced with an ice one as well.

Hadvar frowned and fired again. This time, the atronach turned into a fire one. The other one did the same. Another shot, and both were back to being storm atronachs again.

“Hmm, your creature doesn’t seem to be faring any better than before. Methinks your aim is off, little princeling!” Sheogorath’s laugh echoed around the arena.

Hadvar scowled. “Of all the Daedra we could’ve run into, we ran into the most confusing...”

General Tullius rubbed his temples. “We had to get something like this at some point. Everything else was too straightforward.” He took a deep breath. “We’re dealing with the god of insanity. So we can’t do something expected or rational. What’s the most outrageous, most stupid thing anyone could do in this situation?”

As Hadvar was thinking that over, Elisif seemed to get an idea and walked over. She held out her hand for the staff. “May I?”

Hadvar hesitated, but handed the staff over carefully. Elisif took the staff in both hands and took a deep breath. Then she fired off several shots, not towards the atronachs, but towards the specters of Pelagius and his bodyguards.

As the two Legion soldiers looked on, the guards turned into ravenous wolves, which devoured Pelagius. Hadvar winced and looked away. “Could’ve gone without seeing that, thanks.”

“Well done! I thought you’d never figure it out! Now that the attack has come and gone, Pelagius is under the delusion that he’s safe. And you’re close to home!”

General Tullius looked at Elisif in shock. “How did you figure it out?”

Elisif hesitated as her expression became sorrowful. “When you said that we should do the stupidest thing possible, I remembered the last very stupid thing I saw someone do.” She didn’t make eye contact. “When Ulfric came in that day and challenged Torygg in front of everyone...the first thing I thought was ‘What an idiot.’ Of course, five seconds later I realized Torygg would have no choice but to accept...and then...”

General Tullius nodded sadly. “I think I understand. Attacking a ruler in front of everyone...that was the stupidest thing you could think to do.”

“But in some ways, it was smart. By making it so public, Ulfric made sure everyone would know if Torygg backed down.” She scowled at Tullius. “You might consider it stupid, but to turn down a duel like that...everyone would think he was weak. Unfit. It’s a whole thing.”

Tullius sighed. “I’ll admit...I don’t really get a lot of Nord customs, that’s true. And I don’t think fighting a duel is the best way to pick a ruler. But I do understand the importance of politics, and how your actions affect how people will respond to you. So no, I don’t think Torygg was stupid. You’re right, he didn’t have much of a choice.”

Elisif visibly relaxed at that. “Good. I...I’m glad you understand.” She handed the Wabbajack back to Hadvar and started walking back down the path. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”

---

Meanwhile, all the way back in Dawnstar, Onmund was starting to get worried.

Okay, he’d already been worried when two of his friends/fellow apprentices had left with a priest to track down daedric cult activity, but it had been over an hour and they still weren’t back. Sure, the tower the priest had mentioned was probably a bit outside town, and sure there was a snowstorm slowing their travel, but that didn’t make Onmund feel any better. What if they got lost? What if they froze in the snowstorm? What if-

Onmund’s train of thought was interrupted by a groaning from the bed. He immediately turned to see Luis stirring. “Luis?” asked Onmund.

Luis sat up groaning and holding his head. He turned towards Onmund and opened his eyes. 

And Onmund immediately knew something was wrong. Luis’ eyes were no longer the purple inside lighter people sclara that showed his dunmer heritage, but blue inside white sclara. 

“...Skilja?” asked Luis. But it didn’t sound like Luis. It sounded like the accent that some of the Imperial soldiers had when they tried to get into Windhelm right after the High King’s death. They had been chased away by the Stormcloaks after only a few days.

“N...no,” said Onmund. “I’m Onmund. Um...Luis? Or...you’re not Luis, are you? Your eyes are different. And your voice..."

The person in Luis’ body frowned in confusion, then looked down at himself. “...well I don’t remember putting these clothes on before I got into bed. So you’re not Skilja, and I’m not Luis.”

Onmund nodded. “Right. Um...do you...not know how you got here?”

The man shook his head (or Luis’ head). “No, unfortunately. I remember being in Cloud Ruler temple. I was up reading all night when my friend Skilja came in and more or less threatened me at knifepoint to go to bed.” He smiled wryly. “You look a lot like her, actually. Same hairstyle and everything.”

Onmund tugged on his braids. “So...you fell asleep and woke up here? That’s...not good. Does that mean you switched places with Luis somehow?”

The man frowned. “Oh dear. You could be right. If that’s the case, I imagine your friend is very confused right now. I hope Skilja doesn’t do anything foolish...how did this happen?”

Onmund tried to think about how to solve this. “Um...well...I know there’s some weird stuff going on with Vaermina. Daedric prince of nightmares and stuff...I have some friends who are going to try and solve it. Maybe if you go back to sleep, when they solve it you two will...switch back?”

Onmund bowed his head. “I’m sorry, I’m just an apprentice, I don’t know anything about daedra or swapping minds or anything...”

The man smiled. “It’s better than no ideas at all. Worst comes to worst, maybe one of your friends will have an answer when they get back.” It was obvious the man was trying to hide his nervousness. Onmund couldn’t blame him.

“Right, yeah.”

The man sighed and laid back down. “Okay, just go to sleep. Hopefully things will be back to normal...” It sounded like he was talking mostly to himself.

Onmund turned away and began praying to every god he could think of. Kyneareth, Talos, Mara, Dibella, Stendarr, Akatosh... “Please help my friend...please let the others get back...”

Notes:

I think I accidentally wrote Elisif and Tullius in an old married couple dynamic. Oops.

Also Hadvar with the Wabbajack will only end well, I'm sure.