Hi, this is my first story. So please rate fairly.
I also feel as if I have to explain. Ever since I first saw the trailers for elder scrolls online, I have fallen in love with the three characters that were shown. As I have not yet played the game, I am going to give them my own names and change their appearances a bit. This will be a one-shot. It takes placed after Molag Bal invades and is sent back to Oblivion ( I would presume so anyway) and this will be a Truce that they have decided to make. If you want me to turn it into a story with chapters and such (back story, during the war, after the war etc.) I will post more chapters if people request it. Without further ado, here it is. Enjoy
I do not own the Elder scrolls games or it's characters. I have however created these names myself and have slightly changed their appearance and the story slightly. It is based off the trailers not the games
Tamriel was in a state of utter destruction. Ruins of a long battle scattered on the cold, hard ground. Dark, dried blood at the feet of the High Elf as she walked, magic tingling at her fingertips, ready to strike those who would dare attack. She walked gracefully, careful with every step as if to not trip up and fall over. Her emerald green elf-eyes, sharp and hard, scanned the area as she remembered the details of the long, hard battle. Her long hair fluttering around her like a cape as she walked. Her red hair was as red as the blood of her enemies, of which she now walked upon. Her armor, leather and black, was tight but allowed her to move freely. Her silver headgear and ring signified authority. She belonged here. In the aftermath of a battle she had fought. Smirking to herself. Her delicate, but sharp features becoming a look of utter beauty. As is the way of the elves.
Her walk slowed to a stop. Scanning the destruction again, before turning to look behind her. Her eyes darted in between the piles of rubble. She was expecting someone. But, she did not know how they were to appear. She blinked and he was there.
The Breton was silent. He could draw his bow and strike an enemy with a blink of the eye, and do it with great care and be utterly silent as he did so. He moved much like a snake towards the High Elf. His dark hood was pulled up to cover his hair and a mask covered his nose and mouth, leaving his piercing blue eyes to stare at the High Elf. His bow was to his back, ready to be unsheathed if the High Elf's intention was to fight once more. But this time with no interruption.
The last time they were both standing here, was when they were trying to kill each other. Two Generals of Two Alliances both fighting for the same thing. They were missing one though. The Third General of the Third Alliance.
They stared at each other as they waited for the third party to arrive.
The Nord stomped towards them, not caring for discretion, because he did not need it. His large war-axe could take the head off the most toughest of enemies and could do it was quick precision. His heavy armor clanked as he walked, his long, grey beard was practically to his knees. He stopped before them and stared. His dark brown eyes looking at his old enemies with a neutral expression on his rugged face.
The last time they were here, they were with others. But this time, if the High Elf's intention was to do so, they would be alone, and it would be a fight to the death.
Each General stood in silence. The Nord stood with a firm grip of his large, steel axe. He would have no qualms against separating their heads from their shoulders.
The Breton had a delicate hand to his bow, the other reaching for an arrow. He had no qualms against shooting an arrow in between their eyes if he had to.
The High Elf stood straight and proud, chin up, so she could look down at the humans before her, as all Elves do. For, in her mind, she was above them, and she was sure she could burn their faces off if they attempted to start another battle.
With a sigh and a deep breath, the Breton spoke. "Why were we called here, she-elf?" he asked, his voice soft, he spoke quietly so only they could hear, and make sure there were no spies around them.
"It's all right. There's no-one here. We're alone." The Nord boomed, his voice loud and deep. "As the Elf instructed."
The High Elf smiled as the Nord turned to her. Even after most of the war was over, the Elf and Nord still did not trust each other.
"And I thank you for doing that, friend." The Elf said, her voice gentle but bitter and sharp. She continued: "And I thank you both for appearing before me. I'm sure you'd agree that we've had some problems in the past."
The Breton closed his icy blue eyes as if remembering every gruesome detail of the glorious battle that lead to many deaths. Of his and the enemies side.
The Nord scoffed. "What is it you want, Aranden. I have business elsewhere."
The High Elf, Aranden, turned to the Nord. "Know your place, Sjorak. If you want to stay I suggest you shut that ignorant mouth of yours and listen."
At this, the Nord roared and charged. It was the Breton that saved the High Elf's life.
He drew his bow with quick succession, placed an arrow to the bow and aimed, all of this done before Sjorak could even lift his axe.
"Peace, Sjorak. Aranden would not call us here if it was not important." The Breton said quietly, still wary of spies.
Aranden smiled as the Nord grunted and stepped back. She turned to the Breton. "Thank you, Theodelis. You are quite correct."
Theodelis sheathed his bow and with a nod of his head, Aranden continued.
"I stand here before you, on behalf of the Aldmeri Dominion. I have brought you here to offer you a deal."
"A deal?" Sjorak asked, loud voice unusually quiet with shock.
"What could a High Elf possibly offer us?" Theodelis asked with the same expression on his face. Did this bring shock to him? The Elf could not tell. For he could hide his expressions better than she could.
"I am here to offer a Truce."
With this, the Breton lowered his mask and thought carefully before responding. "A Truce?" he echoed.
The Nord said nothing.
"Yes. We will surrender if your sides surrender. We will resume with our lives as normal. The City will belong to the Imperials. Not us." she said, eyes darting between the two faces, looking at each of their reactions.
"But...Why?" the Nord asked, with a small voice. So unusual for this big brute of a man. "Why would you so freely surrender when you could easily win. Just as we could. It's an unpredictable war. Anyone could win at this point. Why surrender now?" He said as he finally found his voice. He was now shouting. The Breton shot him a warning look, fully aware of the power of the Nords, and how they use their voices.
"The threat of the invasion from Oblivion has ended. Molag Bal was sent back to where he came and will stay there for many more years to come. But, a consequence of this is..." Aranden lost her composure and sighed sadly, her gaze drifting to her feet. "We have lost many men, good men. As I'm sure you have."
At this the Breton and Nord looked down in grief.
Aranden looked up once more and they could have sworn she saw tears in the elf's eyes.
"I do not want to lose more because of this petty war." she said, scowling at the two to prove a point. "Do we have an agreement?" Her usual cold, sharp voice returning to her and she glared at the men.
"I agree to these terms, Aranden of the Aldmeri Dominion. I'm sure the Daggerfall Covenant would gladly agree to this, for we have lost many soldiers on the battlefield." Theodelis said.
The Elf and the Breton turned to the Nord with anticipation. Nords had a reputation for being stubborn.
"There is no way I would accept the terms of an elf." He said, dark eyes darting between them. He sighed deeply. "But, we have lost men too, and the Ebonheart Pact are weary, we would not last a week in battle. I agree to these terms."
"Thank you, Theodelis of the Daggerfall Covenant and Sjorak of the Ebonheart Pact. May our blood bind this Truce to our very deaths." She said, stepping forward in the circle as she drew a small dagger. The Breton and Nord stepped forward, with a dagger of their own. They held out their hands.
In unison, they dragged the blade across their skin, drawing thin lines of blood. They held out their bloody hands and watched as their blood dripped onto the muddy ground. When they came together, the Truce was set and Aranden smiled as she brought her hand to her lips. Sucking up the remainder of the blood.
"It was a pleasure doing business with you. I hope we will remain allies and close friends." she said, looking at them both, pleased with herself.
"Of course, Aranden. We shall speak to each other soon." The Breton said, as he put his mask back on before turning and leaving, satisfied with the deal that had been made.
The Nord turned to the red-headed elf and smiled a warm smile.
"Thank you. It means a lot to me and the Pact for you to offer this Truce."
"And I am glad you would accept it. Even from an Elf."
They took off their separate ways and returned to their homes.
Comment/review if you want me to turn it into a proper story. I hope you've enjoyed. If I do start a story leave suggestions. :)