Chapter 1
'Click.' Vitzu smiled to himself as he heard the all-so-familiar sound of the lock giving in. In the darkness around him was the machine-like shuffling of the legionnaires doing their rounds through the streets of Riften. They would not present much of a problem if he was caught, which would never happen. They were his legionnaires after all, and he their legate. The guild-master took one last look around to make sure nobody was watching and slipped into the house of Mjoll the Lioness.
Maven had become annoyed with her, as was expected. Vitzu himself was getting at the end of his patience with the axe-swinging barbarian, always pestering him with her talks about destroying the thieves guild. His guild, though that was unbeknownst to her. He scoffed internally. As if severing heads in broad daylight was any more honorable than manipulating politics through well placed valuables, and unfortunate 'accidents'. She would fit in well with those idiotic companions.
Finally, he presented Maven with a plan to take care of her. Of course, he would have to incriminate her, as he had often done with so many others. But this was no ordinary shill job.
As the door closed behind him, Vitzu made his way up the stairs to where Mjoll was sleeping, his inherent Khajiit agility keeping him unheard. He opened the door to her room, glad to find that she was still asleep. He gently rummaged through the belongings on her person, seeing that she still only had one healing potion with her. His feline features contorted into a sadistic smile. 'Vitzu will finally be rid of you,' he thought.
Taking the potion from her, he opened the bottle, drinking it himself to avoid leaving evidence around. From the satchel on his belt, he removed his secret weapon. He poured the contents of his vile into her empty bottle. A powerful frenzy poison, lasting only long enough to get the desired effects. He placed The bottle back in it's original place.
Now for the fun part. He moved towards the door to make sure his escape route would go unhindered. Everything seemed to be in order. One final breath in anticipation, one final moment to bask in his malice before he struck. He lifted his hand and felt his own strength sapping away as it usually does when using his magic. He aimed for her hip, clustering good amount of blood before tearing it straight through her skin. She had not even registered the pain before he silently bolted out, not leaving a trace. He closed the door behind him, replacing the lock and leaped onto her roof, disappearing into the night where he could watch the show. Seconds went by with the steady beat of his heart.
One... Two... Three... Four...
Then a scream. Two screams, actually. One in bloody rage, and the other a call to their feeble gods. The soldiers in the streets made way to the house with weapons drawn, forming a line of shields in their disciplined fashion. A short moment later, the door to the house came bursting off its hinges, revealing the murderous and blood-stained face of Mjoll. She took one look at the guards and charged, battleaxe held high. The blow fell onto the shield of a legionnaire, getting stuck in it as the imperial struggled to hold steady against the frenzied woman.
The two soldiers at the side of the formation broke off and moved behind Mjoll, one kicking her leg out from under her, the other aiming his shield for her head. The steel kite struck true, and Mjoll fell unconscious.
Vitzu dropped down behind the house as the guards were pulling her away, making his way to the secret entrance to the Ragged Flagon. He had removed a major thorn in their side, and the Jarl would hear of his success soon enough.
He pressed the button, letting the floor slide open and checked one last time that no one had followed him before closing the entrance behind him, slipping down in the Cistern. Brynjolf and Delvin were leaning on both dies of the archway, awaiting his return.
"Well well, boss. From the fact that you're smiling like you just pissed on a shrine of Talos, I take it everything went well?" Vitzu looked at them gleefully from underneath the scarlet linen wrapped around his head. "Vitzu was. Riften's protector will now be protecting her own rear. Or not. People have many strange tendencies."
Brynjolf and Delvin laughed at their guild-master, though the former looked slightly more uncomfortable. "We should have a drink, lad," said Brynjolf. "A huge annoyance has been taken care of, and would you ever guess..." Vitzu, who had walked past them, turned around and gave Brynjolf his full attention, a traditional Alik'r cape swaying behind him. "From the information in our ledgers, we're not just back to full glory. The guild is richer than it has ever been in history! We're even struggling to find room for all the gold that's flowing in!"
Vitzu chuckled at his friends, motioning for them to follow him. "Drinks on Vitzu, then. And fear not, my friends. Khajiit has many great plans for us!" He dramatically raised his arms, gesturing to the cistern around them.
They made their way to the bar, ordering spiced rum for the three of them before sitting down at a table in the corner. "Well, boss," Delvin drawled in his nasal voice. "I'm more than eager to hear these plans of yours."
Vitzu threw some of the moon sugar he carried around with him into his rum before taking a good long swig at the concoction. "Vitzu wishes to know your opinions, as they are the most valuable in the guild. But first, an observation. An un-poetic proverb, if you will."
He gestured to the door at the front of the Flagon, between all the new merchants. "Our halls are littered with gold and jewels beyond what even Khajiit can pine for. But beyond that door, my friends, nothing has changed. Vitzu has killed most of the vagabonds in the Ratways and the Warrens in his last encounter with the Thalmor. Now, we have an entire city at our disposal. Empty. Discreet. Just ready to be turned into a glorious home for the Thieves guild."
Delvin rubbed his chin, adopting the same scheming smile of his guildmaster. "I like your plans, boss. With our hold spreading across Tamriel, we'll soon be one of the most influential forces in the land! Though I must ask, how will we remain discreet with all this expansion?"
Vitzu took another long drink, wiping his mouth before he continued. "Khajiit has experience with these things, my friend. To remain discreet, one can either hide... or you can blind the eyes watching you..." he leaned forward. "Or, you can make them look away willingly. And to do that, you must have the appreciation of the people. The upper classes know our value. We have already established our grip throughout Skyrim because of that. The middle class fears both us and the upper class. And the lower class... I'm sure you have noticed every city has a few beggars, but few enough to be discreet."
"What are you suggesting, lad?" asked Brynjolf, the cogs in his head already turning to make this new dream a reality. Vitzu smiled at his favorite guild members. "The lower classes can easily be bought. They may not be thieves, but they are always willing informants, smugglers and smugglers. With all the gold we have, I'm sure that we could help renovate some of the more secret parts of each city to make them comfortable. I have already spoken to a lot of them. With their support, there is almost no-one left who would stand against us."
Delvin hummed in agreement, still nursing his rum. "Your plan sounds good, boss. Where should we start, hmm?" Vitzu ordered another bottle as finished his first. "Right here in the Ratway vaults," he said pointing towards the door. "As you may know, Vitzu has recently bought Riftweald Manor. I am renovating it into an inn, though one intended for... wealthier clients. Ones that want to do business with us in a more discreet fashion. There's a secret entrance into the house from the Vaults, and if we can remove all of Mercer's traps, it would go a long way in attracting more clients and recruits."
"I'll get started on it, boss," said Delvin. "Though, I don't think we should be going too fast. We may be makin' a lot of gold, but property has a way of sucking the wealth out of you." But Vitzu simply waved a dismissive hand. "Tell Khajiit what you need, and I will pay for it."
Brynjolf raised his eyebrows. "Your serious about that, lad?" Vitzu laughed as he added more moon sugar to his drink. "Of course. Vitzu has so much gold, I could buy the throne out from under Queen Elisif's ass if I wanted to." He looked down in thought and added, "Though, it would be just as easy to persuade her without coin."
The three of them laughed and raised their drinks. "Well then, to a brighter future," said Brynjolf, and the others echoed him. Delvin grimaced down to the strong liquor in his hand after taking a swig that was too large. "With that settled, may I ask where you will be off to next, boss?"
The Khajiit stretched out, the candlelight in the cistern being absorbed in his fur that was as black as the void itself. "The night mother gave a contract to Khajiit. Three days ago I talked to the leader of the Silver Hand, and would you guess who they want Vitzu to kill, hmm?"
Brynjolf looked down over his bottle, rubbing his thumb over his leather-clad thigh in focus. "I've heard of them before... Aye, their an offshoot of the Vigilant of Stendarr. Hunt werewolves, or something." Vitzu nodded at him. "Indeed, my friend. They offered a hefty amount of gold that I'll give to the sanctuary to help with the new recruits. Hmmm, but when Khajiit heard the contract, I almost did it for free. They want me to kill the companions!" He threw his head back laughing. "Ahhh, a dream come true for Vitzu!"
They smiled at his antics. "Well, I'm glad to see the Dark Brotherhood isn't losing it's touch," said Delvin, to which Brynjolf added, "I have to agree, it would be nice to be rid of those warmongers with sticks up their hypocritical arses. Though, I don't have to say this, but make sure no-one sees you. The companions are revered by most in Skyrim. Having our guild-master associated with their murder wouldn't bode well for us."
Vitzu looked him with glowing solid white eyes, wearing his famous sadistic grin, which, together with his chitin armor and traditional Redguard hood made him look like a demon straight from the sands of the Alik'r desert. "Worry not, dear friend. They will never know what hit them. They won't even know it was the Dark Brotherhood! Ha! But as to how exactly I will handle them... Well, that's a surprise, yes? Just know that it will be a most entertaining story!"
"I look forward to hearing all about it, boss," said Delvin as the three of them finished their drinks together. "Now, Khajiit will be going to Honeyside. Take care of yourselves, my friends. I'll be back in a few weeks with more good news!" With a salute, he left them with confused expressions as to what he was talking about. Vitzu made his way through the cistern and out the secret entrance. The town was mostly quiet, save for the guards who were cleaning up Aerin's house. He avoided them, instead walking through the market towards his house.
He did not take much time to clean up, only removing his armor before falling onto the bed for a good night's sleep, smiling in anticipation of what what he was going to do.
Vitzu walked away from Valtheim Towers at a brisk pace. He had fulfilled a contract for the Night-Mother in Windhelm and was now on his way to fulfill Jarl Elisif's request to place her husbands war-horn at the shrine of Talos. He did, of course, have his own little twist in mind. The bandits at the twin towers had tried to make him pay a toll to use the road, even after he had politely warned them to shove off. So, he had slowed time with his voice, starting a silent contest to see if he could kill the last bandit before he even drew his weapon.
He won the contest. In fact, he had turned his body inside out before he even knew what was going on. Now, he made his way to the shrine on the northern side of the river. The way he tirelessly ran over the rocky mountain side made him appreciate the enchantments he had placed on his armor while in Solstheim all the more. Strength, speed, and stamina. Simple and effective.
He turned right when he got close to the marker on his map, making his way up the mountain to the shrine. First, his duty to Elisif. He took the horn out of his satchel, placing it on the altar in front of the statue. Then he broke out into a feral grin. 'Now, time for do some good for the world,' he thought, removing from his back a gigantic ebony sledge hammer that he carried for purposes like this.
"Hold there!" he heard a voice from behind him. He turned around to the newcomer, or rather, three newcomers who had interrupted him. The were Altmer, two soldiers wearing their silly wide-skirted elven armor while the third was wearing very distinctive black robes. Thalmor.
"The worship of Talos is strictly forbidden. You have violated the laws of the Aldmeri Dominion as declared by the white-gold concordat. Prepare to die, dog!" the justicar shouted at him, drawing out his saber and readying a spell in his other hand.
"Ha!" Vitzu threw back his head. "Talos worship? Khajiit knows the Dominion often employs idiots, but even I am disappointed." He turned back towards the statue. "I will deal with you shortly, elf. But for now... simply enjoy the show! Mul Qah Diiv!" The thalmor soldiers stepped back as the spectral form of a dragon surrounded him, doubling his strength. "Su Grah Dun!"
With newfound speed and power, he waved the hammer in a wide arc, striking the statue in the middle. A loud crack was heard as chunks of stone came flying off. Once, twice, and three times more Vitzu struck, before the statue finally gave in, and the top half fell forward onto the ground. With one final swing, Vitzu brought the hammer down onto the head, destroying it.
The justicar looked down at the broken shrine with a sadistic smile, relishing the destruction of the heathen god's symbol. "An impressive display, cat. However, our presence here must be kept secret, which means you'll have to die all the same."
The Dragonborn returned his smile with one of his own. "Vitzu was hoping you would say that."
Vitzus awoke the next morning feeling fully refreshed. "Ah, such a wonderful dream..." he said to no-one in particular. He laughed when he recalled what had happened. How he had bent the will of the thalmor using Miraak's shout, then ordered them to undress and march into Windhelm to become prey to the Nords. A most amusing spectacle to witness.
He rose from the bed, eager to start with his mission. Only after he got dressed did he notice his housecarl awkwardly staring at him from the top of the stairs. "Iona! It's been a long time!" he said, picking her up in a hug and enjoying the look of shock on her face because of it. He set her down and turned to pick up his bow, Nibiru. It was similar to a Dwemer bow, but larger and with twice the draw weight.
"Umm, hello, my thane... I trust you had, uhhh... good adventures?" He stopped himself from laughing as he put his cutlass into the sheath on his belt. "Very good indeed, dear Iona. You know, you don't have to stay here all the time. Khajiit has money. You can use it. Hire someone to watch the house. I'm sure Rayya would love to explore the lands with you." He grabbed a sweetroll and packed a few breads into his satchel.
"Thank you, my thane... I'll try to get out more," she said, still not completely over her surprise, when Vitzu picked her up in another hug before heading out the door. "Very well. 'Till we meet again, dear Iona." Not stopping to see her surprise again, he made his way out of Riften, hopping onto the carriage in front of the stables. "To Whiterun, if you please," he said, handing a hundred septims to the driver. "You'll get double the pay if you make it before noon." The Carriage driver needed no further convincing as he urged the horse on, anxiously eyeing the morning sun.
Vitzu sighed as a cool morning breeze carried the fresh air of the rift into his face, rushing through his fur. He undid the linen wrapping over his face, revealing his crimson mohawk and pierced ears to the wind. It was on mornings like these when he would miss his home. Not Elsweyr. He was a cursed child, born when both the moons were bloodstained. His tribe would have murdered him. He was an abomination in their eyes. Vitzu laughed. They were actually right. He would grow up to be the first and only bloodmage in eight-hundred years. His mother had given her life so that they could escape, and his father had taken him to Hammerfell to be raised as a sailor.
The home of the Redguards may have been an inhumanly hot wasteland, but in the morning just before the sun came out Vitzu would sit on the crow's nest of their ship, taking in the ocean breeze as the gulls glided around him. Now, with the gentle bobbing of the carriage and the smell of the nearby river, he almost felt at home again.
He looked out towards the west, where he knew his home was. He wondered why he had never stuck the finger to Skyrim, leaving everything behind and returning to Hammerfell. He had stood at the border before. The narrow mountain pass just west of the old sanctuary. But he could not walk through, and that frustrated him to no end. Skyrim was not his home. It was a land full of cold, prejudice and death. Not that he minded death. In fact, he reveled in it. Though, unlike these idiotic Nords with their heads up Talos' ass, yelling battle cries while swinging their axes around, he knew there was no 'honor' in it. That is why he hated most of them, and why he was especially brutal in the battle of Windhelm.
He smiled fondly as he remembered it. He had specially enchanted an elven sword for that day. A sword that would capture their souls. They would not know victory, and they would not know Sovngarde. When the battle started, he dashed into the thick of the enemy troops, not wanting his legionnaires to get in the way, or to see what he truly was. His sword traveled left and right almost on it's own accord, a whirlwind of moonstone, cleaving the bodies of stormcloacks into writhing pieces. Those who were more persistent were sawed apart from the inside as their own blood turned into rotating blades. He felt accomplishment in that day. The look of terror on their faces when no one, not even their precious Talos, could save them. So great was their fear that they fell on their own swords, desperate to escape the torment.
As much as he enjoyed reaping their souls, he had no intention of living among them. He yearned for the warm sand between his toes and pineapples and good alcohol to feast on. Not the sheep's piss the Nords call mead. So why did he not go back?
He thought of everything tying him down. He was a Legate of the Imperial army. He did not have a duty to them anymore, since he had won the war for them by tearing off Ulfric's head and placing it on a pike. General Tullius had died during the siege of Windhelm, leaving Rikke to step up and take the place of General, and Vitzu's friend Hadvar to be named Legate. He did not complain, since he could finally get to know Rikke better.
Then there was the Dark Brotherhood. There was not much word of them outside Skyrim, so he doubted that he could continue to serve them if he should leave. He did not care much, as he did not feel the same attachment to them as he did to the Thieves guild. Maybe he could relocate along with Cicero and the Night-Mother, and open a new sanctuary in Hammerfell.
Finally, there was the Thieves guild. During the months he had known them, he had grown attached to it's members, becoming especially good friends with Brynjolf and Delvin. He made plans to convert parts of Solitude and Markarth into new dens for the guild before fully reconnecting them with the surrounding lands.
He groaned in frustration. He was literally the most influential person in all of Skyrim, and now, after all the hard work he had done to achieve it, he wished he could just take it all back. If he could, he would have ended the lives of Alduin, Miraak and Harkon and simply went on his way. He would not be owning eight homes. He would not be a thane of all the nine holds. He would not be the listener or the guild-master or a legate or the Archmage. How did all of that even happen?
No matter. The truth is he had done all those things, and now he had to complete his duties before he could leave. And so he decided that he would do just that. Expand the thieves guild to a point where his part was done, kill the companions, give over the leadership of the college, and retire from the army.
The carriage rode on for three more hours, finally arriving at the plains of Whiterun just before midday. Vitzu stretched out his arms, thinking that the sun would bring comfort to his fur. To his dismay, the sun failed to produce any form of heat, just as it did in Windhelm. Yawning in boredom, he reapplied the wrapping around his head when his ears perked up. From behind him, a battle cry sounded, though it turned into a rueful scream soon. Before Vitzu could register what happened, the cry got louder as a man in odd steel armor came flying over his head, with a greatsword soon following him. The man fell onto the ground and skid into the river, not seeming eager to get up any time soon.
Vitzu turned around, witnessing a sight that made him laugh. A giant, wielding his club that was easily the size of a man was lumbering though an unfortunate farmer's crops as a tiny woman in scaled armor tried desperately to run away from him. From a distance, another woman was peppering the giant with arrows, though the shots that actually hit did little to dissuade him.
Being deprived of excitement for hours made Vitzu's instincts kick in. He tossed another bag with a hundred gold coins to the carriage driver. "Get out of here!" he shouted to him as he jumped down to the ground, already drawing his bow and extra heavy steel arrows. He vaulted onto the fence of the farm to run alongside it and drew back the gigantic bow to full tension. As usual, Nibiru almost threw him backwards as the arrow launched, landing in the giant's knee, completely shattering it.
Satisfied with the distraction, Vitzu laughed, or rather, cackled like a desert hyena as he stowed away his bow and jumped onto the colossal brute's back, pressing his feet into the giant's shoulder blades and grabbing it's hair to steady himself. He pulled out his steel cutlass, the golden patterns on it glistening in the afternoon sun. "Enjoy your time in the void!" he shouted as he plunged the blade sideways into the giant's neck.
He pulled out his sword and dropped down, calmly sidestepping as the giant twitched one last time and fell backwards. He wiped the blood off his sword on the giant's fur skirt, taking longer than necessary, as if the act was a middle finger towards all the dangers the world could throw at him. Twirling the blade between his clawed fingers, he turned towards Whiterun to make the remaining journey with a bounce in his step.
"You trying to get yourself killed, cat? I could have stuck an arrow right into your eye!" Vitzu twirled around to see one of the warriors who had fought against the giant. The archer, a pretty Nord woman, had run up to him, obviously angry at having her pride wounded. "Perhaps..." Vitzu replied with his trademark grin, knowing his deep, hissing voice would make her uncomfortable. "If what you Nords say is true, dying is half the fun, right? Besides, considering your aim, that giant's back was the safest place to be." He chuckled as he continued on his way again, the woman jogging to keep up with him.
"My aim? I'm the best archer in Skyrim!" she said indignantly. Vitzu smiled and kept walking. "Vitzu has seen much of Skyrim, and truly, being the best archer in Skyrim doesn't say much." Her face almost turned as red as her hair. "You pompous furball! Do you even know who we are?"
"A flying man with an emotionally insecure harem?" Vitzu retorted, finally sheathing his weapon. In truth, he knew exactly who they were. The companions. The arrogant brutes who were the complete embodiment of everything he hated in Nords. "Does it matter?"
The archer, who seemed increasingly close to exploding with anger, stepped in front of him. "Keep talking like that, and you'll find yourself on a tanning rack by tonight!" Vitzu stopped walking, crossing his arms and raising an eyebrow. They were close to the main gate of Whiterun, and the guards were eyeing them nervously. "We're the companions. Unless you've been living under a horker, you'll know that we are the most esteemed group of warriors in all of Skyrim. And don't think you'll be walking through those gates. Cats like you aren't allowed in the city." She put on a triumphant grin as she walked into the city. "And believe me, I'd love to throw you out myself." She turned towards one of the guards. "Feel free to lock him out. His kind isn't welcome here."
To her dismay, the guard ignored her order, and instead turned towards Vitzu. "Good morning, thane! It's a fine day to be visiting Whiterun. Lydia has been asking about you. Says she has an important message." Vitzu nodded to the guard. "Thank you, Hroki. Khajiit is most eager to find her," he said as he walked past them towards his home. "Fool! What on earth are you doing? Throw him out!" The archer shouted at the guard. He turned towards her, his face hidden beneath his odd helmet.
"I will do no such thing, Aela. This man has saved the city from dragons, vampires, and the stormcloack army. He has more rights here than you do!" the guard said, but Vitzu casually waved his hand. "It's all right, Hroki. She's just making a fool of herself." Aela, meanwhile, had a look of suspicious disbelief. "You mean to tell me that this cat is the Dragonborn? Ha!" she said, but received steely looks from both the guards. "You're serious? Well, you're not at all what I expected. If what they say about you is true, then I guess we could give you a chance. Just come up to Jorvaskrr if you ever feel like testing your mettle against true warriors"
Vitzu waved her off. "Whatever. I will kick your asses some other time. Khajiit has things to do." And with that he left her behind to simmer in anger. Forgetting the annoying Nord, he turned to Warmaidens. The place had grown to quite a lavish shop thanks to his investments. "And how is Vitzu's favorite blacksmith doing?" he asked as he peaked over Adrienne's shoulder, completely startling her. "Vitzu! I hate it when you do that!" she said while picking up her fallen hammer, though her smile told him she was at least happy to see him. "It's going alright, I guess. The Jarl isn't using the sword I made him, though, " she said, her facial expression falling.
Vitzu had a disapproving look on his face. "That sword was far better than anything that ever came out of the skyforge. Alas, Khajiit has something better for you," he said, reaching into his pack and removing several ebony ingots and unwrapped an object, revealing it to be the heart of a recently slain daedra. "Vitzu taught you how to work with demon hearts, yes? Make a sword with this, and either the jarl will accept it, or his head is officially empty."
Adrienne accepted the heart with wide eyes. "W-wow... my first daedric weapon... I- thank you, Vitzu. You think I can forge it tonight?" she asked, embracing him. He shook his head as he looked up to the sky. "Do it on the third night from now. The moons will shine better then." She nodded at him, safely re-wrapping the heart. "Farewell for now. Vitzu must speak to Lydia," he said and she waved as he entered Breezehome. "Hello?" Lydia called, walking out of her room before spotting Vitzu.
"My thane! You're back!" she said, trotting down the stairs and throwing her arms around him, letting her hands linger on his back for a few extra seconds. "How'd your trip to the Boethia shrine go?" Vitzu smiled and moved into his alchemy laboratory to place more packages into the chest. "The shrine is no more, and Vitzu has enough hearts to finish that demon armor you were promised."
She crinkled her nose at the hearts and turned towards a scroll that was lying on the table in the corner. "Oh! Someone came by and left a message for you a few days ago," she said, handing him the scroll. "Thank you, dear Lydia," he said, opening it to read the contents.
I have scouted out Markarth ruins and found a place safe enough for us to hole up in. Considering the amount of new recruits, and our contacts, we won't have a problem filling it up. Delvin will start the process soon.
Rune
Vitzu smiled as he folded the letter and placed it into his pack. Everything was working according to his plan, which meant he could leave Skyrim that much sooner. "Ahh, life just keeps getting better," he said to no-one in particular, dropping his pack and entering the new room that was added to the house with a bathtub. He used the only 'ordinary' spells he new to fill it with ice and melt it until it was comfortably hot. He stretched out after removing his armor. His black fur trapped all light that touched him, making him look more like living shadow than anything else. Only then did he notice his housecarl standing in the doorway, her eyes nervously and yet curiously taking in his form.
"Enjoying yourself, Lydia?" he asked as he slowly walked towards her, his hands quickly finding the buckles of her armor. He had, after all, made it himself. She didn't resist, instead acting as if she didn't notice. "Well, my thane, it's not a sight I get to see everyday. Too bad you'll be hidden in the bath soon," she said as she danced a finger over the darkness of his chest. The dull clank of ebony hitting the floor filled the room as Vitzu leaned closer to his housecarl to whisper in her ear. "There is room for one more, yes?"
Author's note
Just a fun little new story, using my Dragonborn. If some characters like Aela seem seem out of character, that was intentional. The dialogue feels a little rushed to me, though it's probably because I hate writing third person dialogue.
Obligatory disclaimer: I obviously don't own anything to do with the elder scrolls series. This accounts for every chapter posted afterwards as well.
Hope everyone who reads this enjoys it. I will still be updating my other story. Any helpful criticism would be appreciated. Stick around for the next chapter. Or don't. It's your life and you should do with it as you please.