Whiterun, Whiterun Hold
Skyrim, Nirn
The 20th of Sun's Dawn, 4E202

Pears.

Pears were a sweet, juicy, decadent fruit with a grainy texture, whose flavor and sweetness was unmatched in the Multiverse. And you could do just about anything with them. Cut them up and dip them in chocolate with chopped nuts and a caramel drizzle, make them into wine or juice (no pulp thank you very much), puree them into a sauce, pickle them in honey and spices, make them into spiced pear pie with a scoop of ice cream on the side, or even just eat them as is. Pears were like that. So when Belinda Rosalyn Scale saw that the lovely Carlotta Valentia had two barrels at her market stall, she jumped for joy and that drew attention to them both.

Belinda was 5'6" tall with an hourglass figure. She was pale-skinned and had naturally magenta lips; had a pair of dazzling, silver-flecked, almond-shaped, amethyst eyes; and wore her long, jet-black hair in tightly woven braid. She wore a sleeveless, grey dress over black leggings and a black, long-sleeved shirt; black leather boots with silver buckles, a black apron, and a heavy, purple, velvet cloak trimmed in white wolf fur and had a silver dragon clasp with eyes of marquis-cut amethysts. And she simply adored pears.

"How much per pear?" she asked Carlotta.

The Cyrodiilic smiled. "Same fare as the apples," she answered.

"Three Septims a pear? A fair deal!" Belinda responded. "I'll take a whole barrel!"

Carlotta looked at her like she had grown an extra head. Had she heard Belinda Scale, the Dragonborn and Hero of Skyrim, Slayer of Alduin, and a brave woman who rode on the back of a Dragon say she wanted to spend approximately 300 gold on a barrel full of pears? It had cost Carlotta a hundred gold for a barrel of a hundred pears, so she had reasonably marked it up two Septims to pay for the fruit, making an extra hundred, and the remaining third paid the taxes. "You realize there's a hundred pears and that will run you up 300 gold, right?" Carlotta asked. As a merchant, she had to be good at math.

"Yep," Belinda answered. "It's been months since I've had the pleasure of enjoying pears." She reached into her purse and started counting by the tens.

Carlotta sighed and helped her. This was to be a long day, but at least she sold half of her pears and made good coin from it. Of course, she wondered: How did the Dragonborn plan to get a barrel full pears home?

Jorrvaskr

It looked to be a normal day.

As far as the Nord warrior Sieghard Wolf-Son, Harbinger of the Companions and husband to the beautiful Aela the Hunter, was concerned, it was just that. A normal day, one of which he used to put his carpentry skills to good use. He was out on the back yard behind Jorrvaskr, sawing, sanding, and carving wood to make the beautiful crib for his soon-to-be-born pup. When he had returned to Nirn from Sovngarde months ago, he discovered his wife was two months along with a baby. No she was four months along, soon to be going on five months. This made Sieghard glad for his carpentry training in his youth.

He was a 6'4" man, all muscle with little to no fat in his body, though compared to his shield brother Farkas, he was still rather average. He had messy blond hair and a matching, almost-brown beard and thick brows; the beard had grown long enough for him to put into two thin braids and a thick one in between. His eyes were moonlit-silver, which seemed off at first unless you knew him well and he trusted you with the secret as to his true nature. He was a werewolf, one who could control his transformations as all members of the inner Circle of the Companions could. Not everyone in the Circle was a werewolf. Vignar Greymane wasn't. He had just been with the Companions for a long time and therefore earned the right to be in the Circle without the beast blood. Everyone else in the Circle had the beast blood, including Sieghard's wife Aela and their shield brothers Vilkas and Farkas, whom were twins.

Vilkas soon joined him out back, wearing his Wolf Armor. He was a couple inches shy of Sieghard, with the same silver eyes as he, though they were always tired with a hint of irritation. His hair was messy, chin-length, and pitch black, with stubble around his mouth. He was pure muscle, though he was a little narrower than Sieghard, shoulders not as wide.

"The crib looks good," he commented.

"Thanks," Sieghard responded. "As soon as it's assembled, I'll paint it. I'll need to talk to Belethor or Ysolda about getting quality paint." He thought about that. "Ysolda. She can find me quality paint for a good price."

"Aye," Vilkas agreed, helping to hold the crib steady. "Your woman is getting fussy and irritable. Barked at Ria about getting pears."

"Pears?" Sieghard asked. "Of all the things the woman could crave, it had to be something that you can seldom find in Skyrim, even if they are in season." He sighed. "At least she's warmed up to Bells."

"I saw Bells riding Allie yesterday," Vilkas pointed out.

"She really loves the horse," Sieghard chuckled.

"Sieghard!" came a cry. The two men turned to see Belinda running around the side of Jorrvaskr and over to them.

"What is it little sister?" Sieghard asked, standing to his full height.

"I did a dumb," Belinda answered. "I bought an entire barrel of pears!"

"How do you buy a barrel of pears?" Vilkas asked, trying not to laugh. Of course, he was genuinely curious as to how the young woman had bought so many pears.

"Easily when you save up 300 gold by doing bounties for the Jarl," Belinda answered. "Now I have a barrel of pears and no idea on how to get them home. I need some muscle."

Sieghard made a face, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I'd love to help you little sister, but I need to finish this crib," he pointed out. He turned to face Vilkas, asking, "Would you help her?"

Vilkas looked between the two. He then shrugged and answered, "Sure. I'll get Farkas."

"Thanks! I'll pay you both with five pears of your choice," Belinda responded. "Each."

"Interestingly enough, Aela is craving pears," Vilkas chuckled, heading inside Jorrvaskr. Belinda followed like a pup.

Breezehome

The smell of pear blossoms filled Lucien Nightmist's sense of smell like the beloved memory that it was. He was 2,000 years younger, but still ancient. He lay between the roots of a pear tree, watching white, pink, and yellow petal drift in the soft wind in Amanisa Dragonspeaker's pear orchard. He looked up, opening bright blue eyes to the star-littered sky of perpetual twilight. The Crystal City, called Avalon by many, was beautiful, untarnished, and glittering, the realm was the center of the Multiverse, with magic coursing from the Wellspring of Magic to all corners, while magic came back to be recycled and renewed before flowing out again. The black lynx had called this place home for millennia since his bonded friend, sister, and mother, the Elven Planeswalker Amanisa found this place and raised a splendid city of crystal around the Wellspring.

It wasn't all crystal. The streets were beautiful with mosaics and there were areas of lush, emerald-green grass; a hedge maze of roses in every color, and this, the pear orchard where Lucien would often nap or read. Mages and magical animals passed by, checking the trees. They all hailed from so many places in the Multiverse. A good number of them were Planeswalkers, powerful and immortal like him. Others were simply mages. Calmed, Lucien shut his eyes again and inhaled the scent of pear blossoms. He himself, was a Planeswalker, but he seldom travelled there days. He merely wished to relax. For now, he had seen all there was to see. It would be a while before he ventured off again.

The front door to Breezehome, the house he occupied with the Planeswalker Belinda Scale, opened, dispelling the wonderful illusion of 2,000 years past. He looked up from the fireplace, looking to see Belinda enter her home. Vilkas and Farkas followed, the latter ducking his head so he wouldn't hit his head on the doorframe. Between them, they carried a barrel. Lucien took a sniff. Pears. He was almost in disbelief, but stood from his large pillow and went over to where the large Nords set the barrel down, waving his unusually long and fluffy tail almost happily. He hadn't had pears in a while.

"Do you like pears, Lucien?" Belinda asked her friend and housemate. She opened the barrel and the twins eating picked out five pears and left.

"Very much so!" the lynx replied. "Amanisa used to have a fantastic pear orchard!" He tended to reminisce about his lost and forgotten home, the Crystal City.

"Well, Carlotta got a ship of a hundred pears from Southern Cyrodiil," Belinda pointed out. "West Weald Pears no doubt! They have the second best pears in all Tamriel. Only better pears are found in Valenwood and those Bosmer are very antsy about their Greenpact."

"Wood Elves typically are," Lucien agreed.

"Eh." Belinda took a few pears and peeled and sliced them.

"You going to make a sauce with some?" Lucien asked.

"Well, we have a hundred pears," Belinda answered. "We can do just about anything with them! I'm thinking pear spiced pie, pear juice and give the pulp to the farmers to nourish their grounds, keep a few seeds to grow into trees, and maybe even a pear harvest cake! Oh, we should store some pears slices in a jar with honey and cinnamon until next year!"

"Oh by Kynareth's earthly knickers, yes!" Lucien cheered. Belinda set down a bowl of sliced pears and Lucien ate them happily. His tail swished in joy. "Ah! The West Weald has excellent pears!"

"We should visit the West Weald one of this days," Belinda pointed out. "The roads into Cyrodiil are safe to travel again." She sliced up more pears, this time for her beautiful horse Queen Alfsigr, nicknamed Allie for short. She intended to go riding today and figured she'd love pears. "So, what were you thinking about?" she asked Lucien.

"The Crystal City," Lucien answered. "Amanisa loved pears, as I'm sure you know. She had a pear orchard there. I used to spend my time there, napping or reading under blossoming trees."

"I wish I could go there and see it," Belinda sighed. "It just sounds so beautiful."

"I wish I could take you there," Lucien muttered. "Alas, it is lost."

Belinda nodded. Lucien was over 10,000 years old, and had seen civilizations rise and fall, planes be born and then turn to nothing. He, like so many old Planeswalkers, had caused cataclysms, started wars, had been in love many times, and had taken on shapes beside that of the one he was born to. But things were different now. Had been for over a hundred years. The loss of Amanisa and the Crystal City had hit him the hardest though. Amanisa had been his dearest friend, a sister, a mother, and teacher. She had shown him the world and the Multiverse. She died a thousand years ago of her own volition to protect secrets from a former student of hers: A Planeswalker named Nathiel.

Nathiel had tried to kill Belinda multiple times last year and had tried to deter her path as the Dragonborn. He thankfully failed each time, due to last minute rescues and Belinda's own stubbornness. She had been poisoned by the man, and despite her injuries and the poison coursing through her, she had managed to drag herself out. To her good fortune, Lucien came in that time with an antidote for the poison in her, almost like he knew she'd need it.

"Will you be riding?" Lucien asked, stealing Belinda's attention from her thoughts.

Belinda looked to him, his blue eyes fixed on her. "Yes," she answered.

Lucien nodded. "Well, be careful," he told her. "My scouts have informed me that the Stormcloaks and Imperials have picked up where they left off. They're fighting again." He turned back to the fire and his own thoughts, grumbling about how stupid this civil war was.

Belinda wrapped up the pears she sliced, grabbed her riding gloves, and went down to the stables. The air of late winter was cold and wet. At least it wasn't hot and wet, but that was a matter one did not need to worry about in Skyrim. It was slick on the roads, so Belinda decided to ride out in the plains. Sure, the ground was soft and covered in snow, but Queen Alfsigr was a Skyrim Warhorse, a breed meant for the rugged, wintry terrain of Skyrim. She could easily plow through snow.

"G'day Miss Scale," greeted the stable-master, a Nord named Skulvar Sable-Hilt. He was an average sized Nord, though he leaned toward the shorter end of the spectrum, with tan skin, light blue eyes, and brown hair and a thick, drooping mustache. He wore thick boots, dirty white pants, brown leather gloves, and a green tunic over and dirt beige shirts. He carried a small, one-handed axe of iron with horses cave on the blade and a pine handle – a family heirloom, no doubt.

"Good afternoon, Skulvar," Belinda responded.

"I had a feeling you were going to be riding today," Skulvar said. "So, she's all saddled up and ready to go for you."

"Thanks, but you didn't need to do that," Belinda chuckled.

"She's eager to go running," Skulvar pointed out. "What's your intended route today, if I may ask?" he questioned.

"I think I'll ride around the western wall and ride around the plains by the northern watchtower," Belinda answered. "No intentions to ride too far out."

Skulvar nodded. "Just be careful around the northern wall of Whiterun," he pointed out. "Guards suspect Skooma dealers 'round there."

"Damn; I should've made sure to ask before heading out," Belinda muttered. "Now I have to head back up to the city and get my sword." It was a 20 minute walk back up into Whiterun, and then she could easily climb down. Ugh, why did it have to be built on a hill and have convoluted path up to the gates? She asked herself in annoyance.

"I have a spare sword if you'd like to barrow it," Skulvar offered.

"That would be wonderful, thank you!" Belinda responded.

Skulvar fetched the sword from his house. It was steel blade with a horse head carved of bone for the pommel. Another family heirloom, perhaps?

"It has nothing on Dragonbane, but I imagine it'll serve just fine against a few bandits," he chuckled.

Belinda accepted the weapon. "I'll be sure to return it safely," she assured the stable-master. Once the sword was secured at her side, she pulled herself into Allie's saddle and adjusted her cloak and dress. "I'll see you in a few hours."

Skulvar nodded, watching Belinda ride off.

The North Plains

Belinda had given the northern wall of Whiterun a wide breath. She didn't want to damage the sword Skulvar lent her on petty Skooma addicts and dealers. At the Northern Watchtower, she dismounted to give Allie a break and to feed her the treat she brought. Allie gobbled up the pears excitedly. She whinnied in delight, making Belinda smile.

"MOVE!" she heard someone shout. It was male voice with a Summerset accent. Thalmor.

Belinda looked to the road where three Altmer led a Nord man in rags. Two Altmer wore the standard armor of the Aldmeri Dominion, a combination of steel, moonstone, and gold. They carried teardrop shaped shields bearing the insignia of the Aldmeri Dominion and standard issued swords, both of which matched their boring armor. The third Altmer wore black robes of material that appeared to be leather. The robes were trimmed in gold thread. The sign of a powerful mage and Justiciar. The warriors of the group brought up the rear of the group while the Justiciar pulled on a chain that connected to the manacles around the Nord man's wrists. Just another nameless man, looking pretty standard. One of the warriors shocked him with a small lightning bolt.

Treaty or no, they can't treat people like this, Belinda thought bitterly. She should do something. She would be no better than these Thalmor TWATS if she did nothing. She went over to the Justiciar and stood in his path, looking angry, fierce, and defiant. She raised her chin at him, making sure her glare was a judgmental one.

"Stand aside girl," the Justiciar ordered.

"Why should I?" Belinda responded, hoping she sounded condescending. "You have plenty of room on the road to go around. Or are you afraid of soiling your precious robes?"

"You are interfering with official Thalmor business!" the Justiciar snapped.

"Really? So tormenting some random Nord is official Thalmor business?" Belinda asked. "Well, now it's become my business."

"I'm warning you-."

Belinda spat in his face. Not her first idea, and the Thalmor looked thoroughly disgusted. "Oh, what's the matter?" she chided, giving a pouty lip and an even more condescending for. "Did I get hooman spit on your pwecious Elven face?" She smirked then. "Of course, your face could do with a fine grounding in some mud."

That's when the Thalmor attacked.

"Three on one, boys? That's hardly fair," Belinda giggled, dodging an attack. She wanted to get them away from the Nord. The warriors had their sword drawn, swords at the ready, and the Justiciar conjured a Daedric sword. Belinda drew Skulvar's sword while she reached into the surrounding lands to power her magic. Sword in one hand, she brought a spell of lightning to the other. She pushed her will outward, reaching far. Not far enough. She'd never be able to reach Dione's presence. She'd have to make do without. Of course, arcane lightning and a steel sword wasn't all she had at her disposal. She was the Dragonborn, and once she had the Nord out of her range of attack, she Shouted.

"Fo-KRAH-DIIN!"