Author's Note: Well here we are again. I'll probably update this infrequently at first, since I'm mostly focusing on Story of Octavian. I just got some inspiration that I don't want to whaste. It is the continuing adventures of the Nerevarine after Morrowind ends. Some characters from the Story of Octavian may have a cameo appearance.

Disclaimer: Bethesda owns The Elder Scrolls.

Free from Prophecy

Atonement, Dreams and Plans

The tall, well built Nord stood atop a hill overlooking the city of Narsis in Southern Morrowind. It was here that he would find who he was looking for. This Nord was named Jongard, but he had another name around the country that was now as much his home as Skyrim: Nerevarine.

Jongard had come to Morrowind, a prisoner and outlander, a friendless orphan who had no idea of who or what he was. After a year, he was where he was. Immortal, Hortator, and a hero. He grinned his wry, amused grin as he thought the word, "immortal."

He looked down at the town square. There was a great commotion. One of the hiers of the Oreyn blood had been found. Jongard removed the Dragonbone helm from his head and let his long, blond hair blow in the breeze. He stared long and hard at the helm, and the very thought of how he had obtained it made him sick at himself.

He had killed a mer to get the helm. It once belonged to Oreyn Bearclaw, a false hero. He had been ordered by a Daedra to do it, and his friend and second-in-command Percius Mercius tried to rationalize that Malacath would have killed him had he not done it, but he would still hate himself. Wearing the helm as a symbol that he would someday amend his many wrongs.

Today was the day he would begin to seek forgiveness. Today he found the cousin of the Dunmer he had killed to get the helm, and would return it within the day. But first, he had someone else to meet. He felt the familiar magical pulse as the white door appeared and out stepped his advisor from another life.

He gave a nod. "Vivec, my friend. Are you feeling any weaker?"

The gray-and-gold mer with large eyes gave a small chuckle. "Apple-polishing or genuine concern?"

For the first time in months, Jongard laughed out loud. A full, bellowing laugh that echoed down the hill. "A little of both, friend." He joked.

It was mostly genuine concern. Vivec was dying. It may take many years, but he was. Without the Heart of Lorkhan, he would begin to age and die. Jongard would live forever, unless someone could ever kill him. "Yes, I feel weaker. Only a little, but still."

"How do you plan on spending what's left of your time?"

"I will travel, I suppose. If you could ever believe it, I've only ever seen Morrowind and the Northeast corner of Cyrodiil. One would think I would have gone to see more when I was not at risk of death."

"Then I'll go with you. I need some time to think, at least. You know why I was sent to Morrowind."

Vivec nodded gravely. "the murder of your companions."

A tear welled in Jongard's eye. They were his dear friends, fellow orphans who had formed a band of swords-for-hire in Skyrim. Viskar One-Ear, Malaea Sea-Eyes and Gar the Axe-Man. Only he had no family name. They had been old enough to know who they lost. He never knew his own family, or if he even had relatives alive today.

He had killed them. His brethren, his misery's company. They begged him to do it, but he still blamed himself. That horrid night in the ice cave haunted his dreams whenever Dagoth Ur did not. With him dead, they took his sleep every time he closed his eyes.

But back to the present, the ceremony for Oreyn was beginning in the square.

"I will return in two days to set up our travels. We cannot just up and leave, you understand," Vivec said, "we need a cover story."

"You got it, but make it three." Jongard said as he waved back at his old friend. His almost youthful energy returning as the white door appeared for Vivec. His amends to the Oreyn family, and to all else, would begin today.

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After the ceremony had ended, Jongard waited by the stables behind Oreyn's house. The mer himself rounded the corner for his horse and jumped out of his boots at the sight of the ebony-clad, cloaked figure with the package.

"Who the hell are you?" Oreyn exclaimed.

Jongard's mouth, the only visible part of his face, slanted into the wry, half-grin that was his signature in Vivec City, where he lived. "A stranger."

"What do you want?" The jumpy, battle-ready Oreyn snarled.

"To be forgiven. I'm starting with you."

"Forgiven?"

Jongard hung his head. "It was me who killed your cousin."

"You did what? You bastard! It was you!" With that, Oreyn drew a pitiful iron long sword and charged at Jongard. He stood there, head hung, until the last second, when he grabbed the swinging blade with his bare left hand, inces from his obscured visage. He shook his head. His cape billowed back as he sent out a shock wave to throw the young man back. He was a good fighter, but not good enough.

"I came to bring this back to you." Jongard mournfully said. "May your ancestors rest easy." He unwrapped the helm, and tossed it to Oreyn, who stared at it in shock. "My ancestors…"

"It rightfully belongs to you." A tear slid down Jongard's cheek. "I hope you and your ancestors can find it in your hearts…"

"I still hate you. But I can see that you hate yourself even more. I'll try to forgive you. I probably never will, but I can try."

"Thank you, and goodbye. Never make… the mistakes I made."

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"Jon…gard" Gar was bloodied on the ground, but still alive. He rose up, and ran at the creature behind the disarmed Jongard.

"Gar! No!" Gar lopped off the creatures head with his axe Razor Wind, but not before receiving one more bite.

"AAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" he yelled as he collapsed backwards clutching his shoulder.

"GAR! GAAAAAR!" Jongard yelled at his fallen companion as he held his head like a child.

Gar's eyes opened weakly. Tears flowed down Jongard's cheeks. "Please..., Kill me, before the curse takes hold!"

"No, Gar, I won't kill you."

"Do it, I won't be one of them!" Gar's strength was returning, but he was twitching and groaning in pain as he resisted the curse in his viens.

"No!"

"DO IT!" Gar yelled as his mind began to weaken.

"RAAAAAAAAHH!" Jongard's scream echoed through the cavern as his sword went through his friend.

"The… others… may still be…. uuuh." Gar went limp and a look of peace consumed his face. Tears poured from Jongard.

"Gar…"

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"Ah!" Jongard bolted up with a little yell. Gar had been the first of his friends to die. He knew the sequence. First he would see Gar die, then Viscar, then Malaea. At least tomorrow night he wouldn't dream, that he knew…

That's the rewritten first chapter. It's been edited for spelling and repitition.