Chapter One

"Human beings, we have dark sides; we have dark issues in our lives. To progress anywhere in life, you have to face your demons."- John Noble


The battlefield was silent.

Imperials and Stormcloaks littered the ground, tangled together like lovers with painted faces of horror. Though they fought for two different sides, the men here died the same. These men were once proud and loyal like lions, and tore each other apart just the same. However, for as much loyalty and pride as they possessed, they fought senselessly. In truth, what were they truly fighting for? These solders- these men- died like lambs to protect their lords' honor. High above, the carrion birds began to circle and then swooped down to begin their feast upon the dead, picking out flesh and eyes, or squabbling over a chunk of bone marrow.

Erin stepped mutely over the dead. People said that blood was thicker than water, but not on this day. It ran like the rain that poured overhead. She had seen battle before, and how a man's blood began to stir because of it. She had watched from a distance, she had watched Shield-Brothers and Sisters turn against the other simply because of their lord's command.

Soldiers, in simplicity, are dogs and chained until their lord releases said chain.

Oh, they thought this was good idea, really they did. Fighting for the freedom of Skyrim seemed like an excellent plan, or even defending the White-Gold Concordant and the Empire seemed to be a good plan. People of magic knew better, however mages aren't without fault, they simply learn where - and where not - to put their footing. They had preferred to stay in seclusion, far from politics and sometimes even other people who weren't mages. But this confounded civil war included everyone in Skyrim, even the mages, the Khajiit, and other free races.

The thought of the civil war expanding made her shudder. Perhaps Tullius would leave, and then Ulfric would calm down. A woman could dream, couldn't she? Her jarl had begun this rebellion, and at first she thought it was good idea. Skyrim was Skyrim; it was a free land not Cyrodiil. But now, she was beginning to have second thoughts about it - the death and emotional toll upon the people was beginning to make her unsettled.

"You aren't one for death, are you?" The voice snapped her from her thoughts and caused her whirl around. "I can feel it radiating from you, my lady."

Erin watched this man, but in the palm of her hand, she conjured lightning forth. She took in the man before her; by his dress he was a Master Wizard, most likely freelance because he did not bear the symbol of Winterhold. The magic about him was wild and touched her mind's shields like a fly tapping glass. Oddly, he stopped circling her and nudged an Imperial Legate with the tip of his boot.

"Men killing each other, such a… Interesting sight," The man commented thoughtfully. Erin's mind released the lightning spell and she remained silent. The man's power intrigued her to say the least. A tiny part of her hissed and growled with fear fueling its fury. Had she not been a stronger sorceress, she might've lost control of that spirit within herself. She mentally quieted the hissing creature.

She gained enough confidence to allow her voice to surface, "Who are you?" She demanded. The man glanced up from the prodding of the dead Legate. His gaze was like that of a predator, or a hunter watching prey. He smiled wryly and moved toward her and her mind threw up even stronger walls to prevent him access to her mind. "Why are you here?"

"I wish to speak with the Sorceress of Windhelm," The man replied smoothly. "You are the lady of Windhelm, are you not?"

"I am," Erin replied. This man was strange; mages, especially those who were freelance, rarely ever went near other mages from Winterhold. To think, he had walked up to her as if she were a friend and spoke to her openly. No formalities, no nothing, just him and his sly appearance. Men possessed such nerves though, women where a bit more secluded and preferred the company of their own kindred. "Well, I suspect if you wandered all this way, you must have good reasoning. Speak."

The man walked up to her silently. She could not see his face or his eyes, but only his mouth and the tail of a braid that held a hawk feather. The tail of said braid was a mixture of black and silver hair giving her the impression that the man was around her age, maybe a few years younger. His lips were tight and pulled back into a foxily grin.

"Have you ever thought about ending this?" The man asked making a sweeping gesture to the dead bodies around them.

"Ever since I have been the one to heal the men and women being cut by blades, yes. But I support the man I serve with every bit of my soul," Erin saw his smile fall.

"But do you want to end this war?"

"Yes, I do. What of it?"

"Perhaps, I could give you an alternative. Clearly, this war needs to end, but it is not going to end if men are slaughtering each other like sheep."

Erin's eyes narrowed. "What are you suggesting?"

The man sat back on his heels. "You have the power, my lady. But if you and I were to put our heads together, I am sure we could come up with a way to soothe the beasts, no?"

"For whose sake? It would not better the world. It would only cause disdain and loathing to brew in not only Skyrim, but Tamriel as well. Granted, we'd be saving a few hundred lives but it would not stop a bigger threat. Men need to be united, not divided."

"Let me tell you this, my lady. Mages or any other people of magic, belong to a higher group. We are not caretakers or babysitters, but rather predators of magic's far beyond our knowledge." He sighed, playing with the hawk feathers on his braid. "Do you not long to see all races live together? To see the great city of Solitude stand proudly in the sun and not in the shadow of the Imperial Army? Or even to see the city of Windhelm, your city, no longer having racial disputes?"

"Believe me, there are things in this world that I want to see happen, but I know that they will never happen. Certain things like that give Skyrim her charm. I do not wish for it to change, because I quite like the way things will be once this war is over."

This man and his arrogance were beginning to get on Erin's nerves. He was treating her like a child; a mage lecturing a colleague was like smacking one on the wrist. It did no good because they didn't care. This man was toying with her, it was clear to see for Julianos' sake! Perhaps this man was mad, and she was simply giving into his little sick game. No, she wasn't, she was giving him valid reasons to why she does what she does. Though the terror of men bleeding alive bothered her terribly, and could have haunted her steps. She eyed this man-this stranger- hoping by some stroke of luck he would just leave. She wasn't going to let him see that she was bothered by his presence; it simply wasn't done around other mages of power.

"We may try to fix what has been broken, but nonetheless men will still fight men in the end for the cause of their lords. They will bleed for their commanders, and die protecting their land. People, especially Nords, will die fighting. If we take that away, then we are rubbing salt into the wounds upon their pride." Erin continued. "And I will not stand for such treatment of these people."

The man smiled once more, and he challenged with a chuckle. "You love these… Nords?"

That statement stirred the creature within her. It hissed and caused her skin to crawl. She knew many mages that loved the Nords and their culture, but this man seemed to make it out to be an insult. Her inner pride stirred the blood in her veins. One of her dearest friends was a Nord, a great man in fact. This man knew absolutely nothing! She set her shoulders, curious to see how this played out.

"Word has reached my ears that you will die for only one man… Or so the songs tell me. Answer me this; would you die for him still if he destroyed this country?" Remaining silent, she watched the man intently. He crushed the hand of a Stormcloak beneath his boot. "Because I hear that he is quite the reckless Jarl. People say he loves Skyrim, but I know different. I have seen him before. He is just like his father; a man who gets easily lost in the throes of battle."

"You are wrong," Her own voice startled her, she sounded oddly calm. "But you didn't come all this way just to speak about war disputes, did you?"

The visitor chuckled and turned to her and from the shadows of his hood, she saw his eyes glowing from underneath. This man was a Breton, using the magic of High Rock. He was trying to get past her mental barriers. He wanted to share his thoughts with her, be able to share a sort of strange symbiosis that only family members and lovers could possess.

"Smart woman, quick like lightning, I love it," The man laughed as he folded his hands together. "You're right, I didn't come all this way for simple war disputes because I am sure that you hear enough of those back home, no?"

"Yes, considering the times… But tell me, you decided to come to me… why?" He hesitated a long moment, stone grey eyes flickering with his soul's power. He was thinking, savoring the silence a moment. And then at last he spoke in a strange clarity that impressed her.

"My assailant would love for your cooperation upon a matter that requires… Delicate handiwork." She cocked an eyebrow up at his request. He chuckled, "It evolves the strange occurrence of power that happened a few months ago in Helgen. If you help us; we will pay handsomely."

She shook her head. "My services are required elsewhere. Believe me, I have looked into the strange spike of power and nothing has come to my attention. I am sure your… Assailant would understand."

He gave her a sweeping bow, and then rose and flicked back his hood to reveal more of his face. He was clearly a Breton by his facial features, but there were fine wrinkles around his face that told her he was at least a few years older than she. A handsome smile quirked up the sides of his lips, "He will understand… That much I can assure you."

"I do thank you for your offer…" She hesitated not knowing his name. "I never did catch your name, sir."

"I was named after the world, my lady. You may call me Mundus." The visitor addressed. She dipped her head to him and he turned tossing a glance back at her. "I hope to see you once more, Lady Erin."


Greetings everyone, welcome to my Skyrim Fan-fiction. A few things before you read: reviews are appreciated, but not if they are negative or a flame, if you have an issue with something please Private Message me, and finally, enjoy yourselves.

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