AN: I rewrote this chapter and now I am much happier with it. This should be a cleaner version and I want to hear your feedback on it! (13.02.2019)
General note: When I was thinking of this story a while back (five years as of now, college tends to intervene with those plans) it somewhat occurred to me that the dragons would never ever stick to Skyrim and mostly likely spread to the other provinces. Therefore people will be desperate in a sense about this threat. Now the Thalmor, as much as many dislike them, you have to give them that they are efficient and do not tolerate anything which would threaten their power. Dragons could definitely weaken them enough so they would lose their hold on the Empire and others. And with three years they could have gathered enough information to know "there is a Dragonborn. There is this prophecy." And think "If we had someone that powerful on our side, our power would be uncontested." Hence they sent out spies to track her down which would be difficult with the civil war going on and Ayera mostly operating in the underground for quite some time. Therefore there is the misinformation that Ayera is an acquaintance of the Dragonborn and not the Dragonborn herself. An agent sent by the Dominion might be desperate enough to go to an acquaintance and "persuade" her in the Thalmor way to co-operate.
It was widely recognized that once something was set in motion it tends to stay in motion and only an external force can stop it. Everyone fell under the law, Kings, Queens, Merchants, Jarls and even the dragons. Including the Dragonborn.
It all started when Ayera woke up on a cart on the way to Helgen on her way to be executed. Ones she had been innocent of, which had not changed her being hauled off to the block. The rest was a blur lines and fire until it all cleared up when she stumbled into a keep with Hadvar right behind her muttering something about dragons.
Living legends that then followed her every step, into Bleak Falls Barrow and then attacked her newly found home in Whiterun. They felled the dragon, the very moment its massive body crashed onto the ground sending them all on their knees, it burst into fire. Its soul rushed into her and was proclaimed Dragonborn: an old Nord hero.
Duties were piled on top of her shoulders, thaneship of Whiterun, the Greybeards and then the Blades. All their expectations and conflicts, never asking her what she wanted. Until it all came to a blow and she left the Blades in their decaying temple, without looking back once. Only her equal hatred towards the Thalmor made her stop short of ratting them out.
A sentiment that had resonated with the Stormcloaks. While the Thalmor left her be relatively, the Stormcloaks hounded her. Constant invitations to take part in the Windhelm court, expecting her involvement in the civil war in their favour. Until the day she decided to take up the offer and travelled to the Stormcloak court, with the fulfillment of a bounty written out by the Steward on Lydia's suggestion. It ended in her fleeing Eastmarch, vowing to never return. Ulfric had been disappointed to see her elven appearance, eyes hardened when she was introduced and dismissive when she petitioned him about protecting the outlying settlements in his hold. In the end she should not have accused him of being the same as the Thalmor.
Since then, she avoided Stormcloak occupied territories. Until she was roped into the Dark Brotherhood after Lydia's death in a Nordic crypt. Forgotten were her duties and the Dragonborn faded from memory from most people.
Her contracts would take her everywhere in Skyrim. Disguises only got her so far when no one looked too closely at her too large eyes and hidden ears so she passed as a Breton most of the time.
Fate loved irony so much, that the man who wished her gone pushed her back into what prophecy ordained.
Ayera was on the road to Dawnstar after a successful contract in Lower Yorgrim. Between Anga's Mill and Fort Fellhammer, the bushes and the trees that lined the stretch of road she was walking on rustled. Stopping in her tracks, she concentrated on the sound, her ears twitching slightly. Bandits or trolls? She should have gotten the cart back to Dawnguard with the armed escort. But this had been a high profile contract and she could not rely on her disguise of dyed hair and war paint to cover her identity.
No more rustling. Her hand settled on her dagger still, the hair on her neck prickled. She should be more vigilant. The familiar crackling of her magicka rushing to her hand in preparation of a lightning spell, something was going on. If this had been a critter, there would be more rustling. Ambush. Taking a few steps forward, she slouched her shoulders visibly and started to pick up her walking speed. Beneath her armour, her muscles tensed up while her ears strained for the tell-tale sound of a bow string being drawn.
The creak of wood being bent was loud.
Diving to the nearby rock next to the path, she heard the arrow being released. It clinked against the stone, bouncing off just above her head. She crouched down and looked back. Who was attacking her? Blue armoured soldiers burst from the bushes opposite her, weapons raised and charging towards her. Stormcloaks! Five of them as far as she could see. Her hand thrust forward and released it into the largest charging forward. Smoke rose from his chest and they were thrown back, ramming into another. They fell backwards, the crunch of bones breaking filling the air.
She could not fight them like this: warhammers against her magic and dagger. No chance if she stayed. Whirling around, she threw another lightning spell back. Yelps of pain was all she heard before she bolted down the hill side, sliding down the dirt and towards a group of trees. Easy to lose pursuers in.
Behind the first tree, doused into the relative darkness that the leaves threw in the setting evening sun, she pulled her bag forward. Invisibility… where is that bottle? Dashing to other trees, further away from the road.
The ground gave out underneath her. Air rushed past her ears, she could not breathe for that very moment she was in free fall. She landed hard on her stomach, her bag rolling to a stop outside her reach. Groaning in pain she looked up. Earth rose up around her, clumps of it falling down onto her face and back. Pushing herself up on her elbows, she grabbed for the bag. Legs and arms hurting, sharp pains racing out from them, her fingers finally closed around the bottle.
It had not broken, thank the Divines. Shouts could be heard above, close but still muffled through the earth. Sweat dripped down her eyebrows when she pulled the bottle out of her bag, thumb snipping away the cork. She downed the entire contents in one gulp.
They'd look down this hole. Could only hope that they would not stay for too long.
Familiar tingling spread from her stomach, her heart was pounding in her ears as she waited for the potion to run its course. So she waited with bated breath, as her limbs grew more transparent and the loud stomping of boots drawing closer.
Four frantic exhales later, a Stormcloak leaned over the pit's edge. Their eyes roaming the ground down below, passing over her now invisible body. Pressing her lips together, she breathed out slowly. These potions did not mask sound.
"She is not in here." The soldier gritted through his teeth.
"How could she get out of sight?" Another spit back.
"She is an elf. Probably used magic." The first grumbled turning away from the pit.
"So she got away."
"And lost Dengoth and Lia!"
"Talos watch over them." A third voice chimed in solemnly.
"What do we do now?"
"We have no choice but to return and report our failure."
Ulfric… She should have known he was going to try harder to get rid of her. When had been the last time he had sent troops after her? To capture or kill, she did not know. Nor did she care to find out. At some point, she needed to confront him about this. Provided she escaped this….
A loud yell, a thunk and the soldier who had peeked into the pit fell back first. Blood spurted from their slit throat, eyes dull and staring straight up to where the trees blocked the now darkening sky. Clangs of metal against metal, grunts and then the familiar crackle of a lightning spell being discharged rang out. Someone was fighting them.
Rescue? But who was out and about this late?
Groans of pain ended the clashing then everything was quiet. Heavy booted thudded closer to the pit. Black armour, shield and a blood drenched sword shimmered in the semi-darkness. Their face was obscured.
"I know you are down there. A Thalmor commands you to reveal yourself." A haughty voice called out, not even breathy from the brief combat.
The hair on her neck stood on end, goosebumps spread over her arms. Thalmor? A sole Thalmor agent? One that had been capable of handling three Stormcloaks with ease? Divines… Auriel… whoever was willing to listen! She could not fall into either hands! Her invisibility would last a few more moments, as long as she made no noise or moved too suddenly, they would not notice her being here.
"You can do this the hard or the easy way. This is up to you if I have to use detection magic." Exasperation evident in their voice.
Tingling of the potion losing its effect spread over her, even as a knot formed in her throat. She knew no magic that would hide her from any spell revealing life nearby. So she merely stared up to where the Thalmor stood. Their stance wavered in surprise. Frankly, she expected a condescending remark with how pathetic she must look to them.
"How did you get down there?" They sounded confused, almost amused in a sense.
Not the scathing remark she had expected? Still her mouth was glued shut, now surprise. What kind of Thalmor was she even dealing here with? They had not the robes or the golden armour on from the patrols.
"Can you speak?" They asked, the amused tilt gone from their tone.
Ayera shook her head, observing the Thalmor who had become her unlikely rescue. Yellow light sprang up between his hands, and she felt herself being pulled up from invisible strings. As soon as she reached to the edge, her knees touching the edge, an armoured hand grabbed her collar and pulled her further up. Unsteady on her feet, she looked more closely at who had pulled her out.
A male high elf, of course, a pale golden face underneath his helmet stared at her. Assessing and calculating. By the looks of it, he held a high rank within the Thalmor. Ebony armour, a shield that had intricate carvings on it and a sword with a plain bone-white hilt. High ranking and rich. He took his helmet off, green eyes hard and focused on her every move.
Finally the knot in her throat dissolved. "Thank you." She said, bowing her head slightly as she had seen some High Elves do with other Thalmor.
His eyes softened a bit, the corners of his mouth twisted up, genuine surprise. Late evening sun fell on his black hair that was pulled away from his face which reached to his shoulders. In this light he looked… less like other High Elves she had encountered.
"Why were Stormcloaks going after you?"
Ayera blinked at the rather direct question. How could this man be a Thalmor? Why would one help her without having or gaining an advantage?
Before she could prevent it, she spoke: "I am no friend of Ulfric and I may have voiced that."
The Thalmor snorted in laughter, holding a fist briefly to his mouth, before commenting. "How? Ulfric is known to be lenient towards the races of men."
Ayera hesitated. Her disguise that passed her as a Breton fooled him enough? But… somehow it felt like she should not correct him about her being half Altmer. Not like he would ever know, once they got to the road, they'd part and never think about the other ever again. He sighed, looked up, squinting his eyes.
"Look." He suggested. "It is getting late and I am sure whatever you are telling me is of use to me. I can provide protection to you from the Stormcloaks to an inn if you provide me that information."
How had he… alright, if he was ready to make a trade for it, she should get away from him. As far as she could run to Dawnstar and to the sanctuary. Delphine's warning hung in the back of her mind now about how dangerous Thalmor were. All subtle and smiles while they stabbed their target in the back. Even if she had gotten in a fight with the Blades, she could not dismiss any advice they had offered. Either way she could not be around him, not even for a night.
"You have my gratitude." She started, turning over her words before speaking. "My destination is not far however. I should be fine from now on."
He raised his other eyebrow at her, clearly not believing her.
"The closest shelter before nightfall is an old Nordic crypt." He deadpanned quickly.
By Sithis, he knew the area here. Damn… think think. What else is near?
"I was heading to Fort Dunstad actually." She said.
He burst into disbelieving laughter. "Fort Dunstad is too far away now. And you would be going past a giant's camp. Nightgate Inn is nearby and they don't ask too many questions."
She knew that inn. Far too well and she could only hope that they would not get the room down in the cellar. For now she had to play along, go to the inn and hope he would not become suspicious with how perceptive he seemed to be. As long as she got a window to leave and have a headstart on him, then she would reach Dawnstar before he could catch up.
The only problem that would be to sneak away from him… she shifted slightly on her feet. The leg she had landed on ached and she hissed slightly. This was going to bruise.
"Doesn't look broken to me, but I will need more light to see. Can you stand properly?" The Thalmor asked, holding out a hand for her.
Hesitant, Ayera grabbed his and he slowly wound an arm around her waist, steadying her more off the hurt side. He was about a head taller than her, so when he started walking towards the road, the pace was awkward and slow. A few times they had to stop to re-adjust their grip on the other.
"I left my horse on the road, so the rest of the way should be easier." He said, hauling her over a rock.
"Why would you help me?" She asked finally.
He snorted in amusement: "Bretons were created by Altmeri and there are new diplomatic routes that have been opened up with the dominion. So… it is the duty of a Thalmor to aid all allies."
High Rock had allied themselves with the Dominion? Since when? Why? Or was this more out of necessity than actual desire? With the Empire splintered there would be advantages to be on the Thalmor's side. Hadn't Hadvar commented years ago on a court intrigue when she was hauled off the prisoner cart?
"You do not hold us in high standing, do you?" He remarked flatly when she remained silent.
"No one here does."
"And why would you listen to them? Not very smart."
"Well…" Now she snapped her mouth shut.
The interactions she did have with the Thalmor were when she had acted as the Dragonborn. He did not need to know that.
"And you cannot even think of a reason?" He sounded indignant even.
"I know that you imprison people without a trial and they rarely survive the interrogations."
"I am not aware of these proceedings were open to the public? What would you know?" His voice gained a hard egde towards the end, his grip tightened on her waist, his gauntlet pressing hard through her clothes.
She should not have… damn. Now she had to think of a way to explain this without spilling that she freed the Grey-mane son from Northwatch Keep.
"You meet a lot of people if you travel Skyrim." She began. "And some claim to have survived your interrogations from the war."
She looked up to him. Hopefully he bought this hastily thought of reason. Though, his eyes narrowed down nor did his grip on her lessen.
"Have you ever interacted with us here in Skyrim?"
"Yes."
"Were you raised here?"
That was an odd question. What could she even say? She did not grow up here and only arrived three years ago with the dragons. But then again, what would he think if she told him she had no idea? What was one lie if she would never see him again?
"Yes." She said smoothly, ducking her head away from a lower hanging branch.
"Then you heard about the Dragonborn? You know the one who just showed up three years ago?" He sounded genuinely curious.
Was he trying to start up a conversation? While taking her to somewhere so he could trade for information? Was she in a dream? But… this felt too forced of a topic. This must be the information he was trying to get. Not good… not good! And he had not realized who she was!
Play dumb… her only way out.
"Three years already?" She asked back, forcing herself to sound surprised.
"Yes? Does not seem that long ago, no?"
"No…" She agreed quietly. "What did you hear about them?"
"Not much, honestly." He shrugged. "Only that they are supposed to have the blood and soul of a dragon. There is probably something in the Blade's archives about them."
The Blade's archives? The one Esbern had mourned for when they had reached Sky Haven temple? If he had noticed her tensing up slightly, he did not show it.
"That is what I heard too."
"I know the Thalmor are looking for them." He said casually, stopping again for re-adjusting his grip on her.
Hang on… they were? Why would he tell her…?
"Wait…" she blurted out. "Why are you telling me this? Shouldn't it be a secret?"
He quirked an eyebrow at her, a smug grin forming slowly. "You caught on then? Good." The grin fell and a sharp, determined look settled on him and fear froze her. "I know you have information I want. And I consider it repayment for saving your life back there. Nothing personal, purely Thalmor business."
She should have known… it had been too good to be true! Of course he would not help her because of diplomatic relations! Stupid, stupid, stupid!
Jerking her head, she butted her head into his nose. A yelp and his grip lessened slightly and she wiggled more. Nearly was she out and for a moment she could feel her feet hitting the ground to run.
But… then his hands were gripping her waist again. Gauntlets now digging painfully into her unprotected skin. For a moment she was lifted off her feet. Wind whistling past her ears.
Until her head connected harshly with a tree trunk. Nose burning from the impact she blinked up at the Thalmor who had her pinned to the tree, keeping her hands trapped between her back and the tree.
His free hand came up and forced her chip up. "Now. Before you try to fight. I have no qualms breaking both of your legs. You have information I need and I was cordial to offer a trade. One that still upholds. You will hear me out. Am I understood?"
She found no words, frozen still in his tight grip on her. No one had ever succeeded in restraining her for a year now! Who was he? Was he one of the special operatives Delphine had warned her about? Why had she been so trusting?
Stupid… stupid!
Her head was shaken roughly.
"Am I clear?" He asked again.
"Yes." She pressed through her teeth.
"Now listen: You and I will go to the Nightgate Inn. If anyone asks you are my wife and we are on route to Falkreath. Can you remember that?"
"Please, I do not know what information you wish to have over the Dragonborn! I am no one!" She begged.
A dark laugh was all she got in response, all white teeth glinting in the now dim light. "Then you underestimate what I know of who you are. You know about the Dragonborn and lying to me won't help your case."
What could she do? Running was out of question now. Her leg would force her to stop at some point and he had a horse! She had no chance and… damn. Trapped, she was utterly trapped and all she could do now was follow him.
In that moment, he released her arms, letting them fall to her sides uselessly. This Thalmor was cunning, dangerously so. She would have to watch out more. Her belt felt surprisingly light… her dagger! It was gone!
"Looking for this?" He taunted dangling her familiar dragonbone hilted dagger in front of her face. "A curious blade don't you think?"
She said nothing.
"It looks old…" He commented. "The runes are of ancient elven origin. Where did you get such a blade?"
"I found it in a Nordic crypt in a burial chamber." She explained. "I suppose the old Nords kept some elven artifacts from the wars."
He snorted derisively. "You managed to survive a crypt? Maybe they are not that much of a challenge."
Her nostrils flared. Challenge?! Did he seriously think that…. That crypt had nearly cost her life! A dragonpriest and Lydia's sacrifice was the only reason she was here now! Her loyal housecarl died slowly outside, blue sky and green pine trees surrounding her. And there had been nothing her healing magic could have fixed in time. She just died away under her.
All for a word and now the crypt was Lydia's tomb. The highest honour she could afford to give.
"It is getting dark, so we need to move." He did not let any room for her to get a word in.
She was hoisted up on his shoulders, his pauldrons pressing painfully into her stomach. Why had she decided not to wear her armour while travelling? This all could have been avoided if she had… But no! Guards would have been suspicious of her if she had arrived in plain clothes and left in full on armour.
Bile rose to her throat when the Thalmor continued walking, his shoulder pushing harder or lighter into her irregularly. It was uncomfortable… The trees here were tall, she looked up as far as she could. In her hurry to escape she had not noticed that they looked similar to the ones around Lydia's tomb.
The road she had fled from earlier was not too far away, the Thalmor climbing the slope up easily. Too easily in her opinion. There was a black horse was tied to a small tree that was growing between two taller ones when he stepped over the crumbled remains of a stone wall running alongside the road. Most were falling apart these days, the civil war sucking most funds out of the Hold treasuries.
He grabbed her again and threw her unceremoniously on the horse's back. All air was pushed out of her and she had wheeze for breath. That had been unnecessary! Her head swam from being upside down.
Fingers pressed into the place where her neck met her skull. Sharp and burning pain shot into her skull and mind. Then everything went black.