Disclaimer: I do not own Skyrim, All rights except the ones for my OC Dovahkiin go to Bethesda. I'll not repeat this every chapter – ALL RIGHTS GO TO BETHESDA, EXCEPT MY OC'S.

So, I've started playing Skyrim again after quite some time. Then, whilst exploring Nchuand-Zel, this little idea popped up. Then I found out nobody has ever tried something similar even though the archives and fanfiction sites are quite full of fanfictions. Therefore, I had to try this. I hope you enjoy, and I'll accept any constructive criticism not along the lines of 'burn this garbage'.

That said, Fjaldi, Mellte, Saarimda, Uncle, and any other OC's are mine. You may use them, as long as you ask nicely first.

Also, MANY LIBERTIES ARE TAKEN WHEN IT COMES TO LORE AND ACCURACY! I REPEAT, MANY LIBERTIES ARE TAKEN! I do not know all there is to know, and not even wiki can help me enough – if I make mistakes, feel free to mention them, but try and consider them artistic liberty, this is fan-fiction, after all, and not official lore.

NOTE: After this chapter, Dwemeris will be in bold.

Thoughts

"Speech"

"Dovahzul"

Chapter One – Sleeping Beauty?

There's something that can be said about the comfort and familiarity of nightly rituals.

But, for the love of all that is logical, I wish that my mother and uncle wouldn't repeat the same things over and over every night when they think their children are fast asleep.

How could anyone sleep through all that screaming?

"I say HOW DARE THEY? The Snowmer are KIN, elvish Kin! How could they betray them?! How could our people stab their backs like dishonourable scum! It is betrayal, I say, betrayal!" The words are called loud enough to be heard clearly, if dulled, through even a solid metal set of doors.

I roll over, trying to get more comfortable as well as unsuccessfully block out the screaming of my mother. My eyes catch those of my cousin in the next bed over, and he raises an eyebrow with a wry grin. I roll my eyes with a huff, even as we both keep listening intently to the unfolding argument.

"They should not have attacked the Men, my dear sister. They were too arrogant. And still are!" He tries to placate her, agreeing with the treatment of the Fallen Mer residing deeper in the city, in the mines and barracks since there aren't enough rooms to house them in – or so we were told.

Actually, the Elder council has given order to poison our elvish kin, to feed them fungus to blind them, and enslave them so our workers no longer need to work in the mines. It's not fair to them. Not fair at all. I've always been proud to call myself part of the Dwemer race… But this? This is a crime I cannot condone, not that I can do much about it. I don't have to be an adult in order to realize that poisoning those that sought only sanctuary is wrong.

"Saarimda! Are you saying it is our people who need to perish in the mines?" My uncle yells, and she, of course, has an answer at the ready: "Are you saying that they do not have rights because they are Surface Dwellers?"

My cousin groans softly, rolling onto his back before sitting up, rubbing his sapphire eyes with the back of his hand, his pale skin gleaming in the blue light coming from the always-burning generator, and I imagine I look much the same, only my eyes are not jewel, but metal – a bright gold, like my father. "I don't suppose we'll be getting much rest tonight, Fjaldi dearest." He quips then, and I chuckle, our voices low as I, too, sit up to face him cross-legged on top of the furs.

"Indeed. They probably won't be getting much sleep, either."

Mellte buries his head in his hands. "Ugh, your mother is impossible when she runs on little sleep! That's it, pray to the gods, you'll be attending my funeral in less than twenty-four hours." Now it's my turn to give him a wry grin, even as I shrug my shoulder.

"Want me to hold a speech? You'll be sorely disappointed, I'm warning you." We share conspiratory smirks even as Mellte rummages around in his drawer to find his writing supplies. I, too, give up on sleeping for a bit, taking out a book on soul gems and their workings in enchanting equipment, making my cousin huff and wave around a piece of charcoal in my general direction as if chastising, shaking his head in disbelief. I find my thoughts drifting as I open the tome, the furs pooling at my waist as I settle in more comfortably.

It's quite warm in the room thanks to the steam pipes running through the walls. Luckily for us, my uncle is quite well-off and so we don't live near the actual mechanisms, which can be quite deafening when approached… I should know, there's an enormous array right next to the forges, and I pass it each day when on my way to my studies with my mentor. Mellte leaves with my mother for the Animunculi Operations Station – AOS for short, instead.

Mellte, who is like my brother, who helped me get over the untimely death of my father, who is my best friend in all the ways that matter, who is currently occupied with throwing small objects at me since I've been spacing out again, apparently.

I catch the next object with a scowl, flicking the offending bead back at his face.

"I can't believe you're studying." He grumbles petulantly.

A raised eyebrow is my only response as I resolutely turn away in silence, holding the book close to my face as if to make a point, though my playful smile gives me away to the well-trained eye of my cousin. He only sighs with all the weight of a veteran well-versed in the grievances of having a studious sibling.

"You're terrible." He groans, flopping back on his stone bed gracelessly. Unlike me, who got dragged through hell and back in weapon's training before my mother dared leave my birth city of Bthardamz behind, he's always lived in the lap of luxury.

Speaking of Bthardamz… I look at my nightstand, which holds only a lantern and my most precious possession – my father's amulet. A simple Dwemer metal chain with a golden oval pendant, bearing a carving of Xrib's anvil and holding a strong protective enchantment to keep the wearer from being affected by any fire or heat.

Xrib, the god of Creating. Perhaps the only god many Dwemer believed in - unlike surface races, Da had claimed. They had many gods. The amulet was a gift from my father's father, a famous Forgemaster, to be given to da's firstborn in hopes of inspiring them to become a fine smith one day.

Perhaps he knew I would wear it with pride. I suppose I'll never know. They're both dead.

Mellte observes my staring and stands up to ruffle my loose hair. Unlike him, his tightly bound braids and golden beads shimmering in the blue light, I'm not yet an adult, and therefore not allowed to use more than two beads to keep my hair out of my face, nor am I allowed to grow a beard until marriage.

Thank the gods that Mellte doesn't have an intended yet. I don't think I could handle the hilarity of seeing him reduced to a stuttering wreck like Kleffdis was a summer solstice ago, wooing some Dwemer lass.

My lips twitch as he walks through the room - paces, really, wearing a contemplative frown on his face. "How about we go train and leave Da and Mentor to do the talking?" He finally asks, and I shake my head regretfully.

"No way. They'd spot us if we tried to sneak away, remember what happened last time? I'm not going through that humiliation again!" I feel red creeping onto my cheeks at just the thought, and Mellte, too, turns the colour of ruby.

"Please, no. You know, for a brat, you're pretty smart. Must be your da's influence." He flops back down on his bed, facing me once again as I put my book aside. If Mellte is this chatty, I'll not be able to get any reading done anyway.

"I learn from my mistakes, unlike you, apparently. Also, I'm nineteen winters. I'll be an adult and finish my studies in under a year!" I would be lying if said I wasn't miffed at his continuous barbs about my age.

He snickers. "I hope you'll get Xrib's Blessings when you master your art, Fjaldi. Da always ever talks about your natural talent for the forge." I smile softly, eyes gleaming.

"I hope so, as well. I'm sure you'll receive a Blessing too… Once mother is through with you, there really is no other option." I end with a humorous tone, thinking about my mother's headstrongness. He laughs at that, deep and belly-aching, his body shaking and I find myself laughing along, the voices in the next room having gone quiet a little while ago.

"And then, we'll both get married to lovely lasses and live out our years here, together. Maybe I'll have a child better than you at forging! Gods know that the talent skipped a generation with you!" I snicker, before quieting in silent contemplation once more, leaving my cousin to roll his eyes and roll over to go to sleep.

Stay here in Nchuand-Zel for the rest of my life… huh? After tasting the fresh mountain air, and smelling the crispness of pine trees, and seeing the Aurora far above me in an endless sky... Also, marrying a lass?

I don't think that life will be an option for me.

I frown, staring down at my hands. Perhaps I'm reading too much into things.

I sigh, deciding that reading into the intentions of the gods, existing or not, is a little too much effort, so late at night with a long day ahead of me. I glance at Mellte once more, before turning over and looking at the grey wall, tracing the intricate carvings without much difficulty until my eyes droop and my mind drifts off into the land of dreams.

…

What seems like only seconds later, my eyes reopen. There's a dull ache in my skull, and I remember wisps of an odd dream, where I was addressed in a strange, guttural language by a creature clad in lavish purple robes – and he apologised to me, for what he was going to do.

I blink away the last remnants of sleep, wearily wiping it from my eyes as I shiver in the cold.

…Wait. Cold? I look around, only to see that Mellte had pulled off a bad prank, once again. He'd taken my covers, my pillow, and even the fur I'd been laying on..! What the… He'd also taken his own possessions, and had brought them out of the room.

If I am lucky, I'll find my stuff hanging from the highest pipe, nevermind how he got it there. The chest against the wall is the only thing he left untouched. Honestly, I'm not that surprised, as dragging it out of the room would have made enough noise to wake me up!

I look down at myself, seeing that I'm as naked as the day I was born. No wonder I'm cold!

"Mellte, when I get my hands on you…" I grumble as I grab my amulet from the nightstand and stand up unsteadily, feeling a wave of vertigo overtake me for a few moments. Did the bastard DRUG me? He'd better have left some clothing!

Gritting my teeth, I wrench the chest open, to find precious few of my belongings still left… And somethings new as well. Confused, I lift the mail and leather travelling gear from the ornate wooden chest, as well as thick pants fit to brave harsh climate and taking hits, sturdy leather boots with thick fur covering the inside, and my old travelling cloak.

The very same cloak I'd worn three years ago, when first arriving here. It looks as good as new, I'd expected it to gather dust. My old bracers I find as well, and I adjust them to my size before putting them on. I find a small purse too, filled with metal disks with a face on them. It looks a little like the coin the Snowmer use. Where could Mellte possibly have gotten these?

Aside from my Dwemer dual axes, forged by my own hand, there really isn't much else in the chest aside from a steel dinner knife. Or, well, a dagger, if I must get technical.

I wonder what Mellte has planned that requires gear like this, or weapons at all. Maybe he's planning to spar? I shut the chest, checking his dresser, but it's empty. This has to be the most elaborate scheme he's come up with in quite a while… If anything, I'm impressed by the amount of planning, and he didn't give away anything last night!

He's getting better, perhaps he should have asked for an apprenticeship under a Traps Master instead, they would have appreciated his creative streak more than the AOS workers.

I try and hear if he's in the next room, but it's quiet. It's… never this quiet, now that I think about it. Not even my uncle is snoring, and I can't hear Ma preparing breakfast… Pursing my lips, a strange feeling washing over me and settles heavily in my chest, I push open the door. It moves with a hideous creaking sound, like it hasn't been oiled in months.

Now, I'm officially wary. Ma and uncle both absolutely despise creaking or croaking furniture, we lost many a good chair that way. I loop one of my axes onto my belt, keeping the other at my side in a loose grip as I enter the kitchen, stopping dead in my tracks.

…This is the kitchen, isn't it..?

What was once the fire pit, always warm and inviting and surrounded with food and pots and barrels, is now but a pile of ashes, not even the cooking spit still present, and I was sure that thing was bolted into the wall. I blink at it in shock, worried now at how all the furniture seemed to have been removed, save for a lone barrel in the corner, one that doesn't even hold anything when I check.

But the silence bothers me most of all. It's a common fact that a Dwemer city is never silent, never is nobody working. One of the perks of not being constricted to a solar cycle. But now… Now it's quiet. An unnatural quiet. I don't like it much at all.

Feeling a rush of panic I hadn't expected, I throw open the doors in our humble house. "Ma?" I call out, "Mellte? Mentor? This is not funny! Show yourselves!" My mother's room once more has me stand still in surprise and not a little bit of unease.

There is absolutely no way I slept through the removal of all ourfurniture – and there's cobwebs everywhere. I take a deep breath, taking in the murky, dusty air and coughing harshly, a pressing feeling of urgency making itself known as I run to the next room. My uncle is gone – and so are all his possessions. I open the wardrobe cautiously, but dust is the only thing that greets me inside. I bite my lip harshly.

"Uncle? MELLTE! MA? Is anybody there?" I call out again, but the unnerving silence remains, the dust stirring faintly beneath my the soles of my strange boots. I swallow thickly, feeling the faint stirrings of hunger rise from not having had breakfast.

Normally, if I want a snack, I'll just walk right over to Ma, or to the communal kitchen in the next hall over, but somehow I get the feeling that I won't get it that easily now. I go back to my bedroom, opening the drawer on my nightstand to find… a ruined book, faded and yellow and falling apart from age. I carefully pick it up, and even more gently rub a finger across the cover, the familiar title the exact same as I'd read last night. Was it… Had that been last night? How long…

How long have I been asleep? This book was brand new, a gift. This isn't possible! I mean, surely some of the scholars had been researching the time and space continuum, but they never got beyond theoretical debates, or so I'd heard. Had they been lying? I take another breath, my throat aching with the dust that entered my lungs, sending me into another coughing fit. Feeling wariness and trepidation creep up on me, I push open the doors that lead out of our halls.

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