A.N. Yay! First FanFiction! Well, the first on this site anyway. No doubt I'll lose interest after the first chapter, but what the hell. Just one more thing before I start – this is based loosely on the main plot of the Oblivion game. Loosely. That means that, although many of the characters may be the same, the plot is quite different to what really happens. So no, I'm not just retelling the Oblivion story.

Disclaimer: I do NOT own the Elder Scrolls series. Some of the characters and plotlines/themes in this FanFiction are from the original game; some are of my creation, and I ask that you do not steal, copy or claim them as your own. Thank you.

"Is this the child?"

"Yes, master."

The high elf peered scrutinisingly at the infant, taking in every flaw, every blemish. "And the parents…?"

"They will trouble us no further. We have made sure of that."

The man nodded in acknowledgement, his eyes never leaving the babe. "You are certain it is her?"

"The stars do not lie, master. We are quite sure."

"Very well." His cold, hard eyes flickered up to the guard standing over the crib. "Take her away, then. We have no use for her here." He glanced back at the child with a slight smirk, veridian visionaries suddenly dancing deviously. "Not yet, at least."

- - -

The sun peered hesitantly over the horizon, filling this lifeless, monochrome landscape with colourless light. Shadows of night slunk wearily back into non-existence as day, equally weary and forlorn, slipped into the same, never-ending routine. The sky was a flawless grey, never blue but grey. I liked to think it was part of the gods' cruel humour in an attempt to colour co-ordinate this bitter, icy world, this Bruma. Only the little glimpse, a pale, sickly yellow, even dared to contrast this black-and-white picture. That, and one other.

I suppose it may have been surprising at this hour to see a young woman, dressed in thr brightest of crimson robes, curled up beneath a large boulder. Not quite as surprising, I should imagine, to learn that I had been sitting there all through the night and had not yet lost an ounce of flesh to those bloodthirsty wolves, nor frostbite, for that matter. Perhaps the more heroic of onlookers would have strode over, offered me a hand and sat me up on his great white steed, and we'd gallop away over the horizon, laughing til until we went hoarse and choked ourselves to death. Ilani always said I read too many fairytales as a child.

How fortunate, then, that there was no one here to see me. There never was anyone travelling to Bruma, and certainly not at the crack of dawn. That was the one advantage of being put on night duty. You could sleep all night and no one ever knew. Though, amidst the bitter cold, the snowstorms, and the wild animals, it wasn't much of an advantage. I remembered all too well the day before yesterday, when Sigard and I got into one of our arguments. He was drunk, as always, but Ilani just had to side with him. "He was a very well-thought-of warrior in his time," she'd say. "You'll treat him with proper respect." And so here I was, assigned to a week of night watch. Fortunately, it had been a relatively calm night, with no snow as of yet, though the winds had been particularly bitter. Still, what can you expect in the Jerall Mountains?

Perhaps it will come as no surprise that, having stayed awake almost all through the night, I soon slipped into a light slumber. Or, at least, I imagined I had done so – for when I next regained consciousness the sun seemed a little higher on the horizon, though veiled somewhat through a mist that must have accumulated while I slept. My fingers had turned a pale peachy-blue, as, I imagined, had my face. Even my toes, hidden beneath layers of stocking and hard leather boots, seemed to be frozen together. But it quite soon became evident that something had woken me, or at least I had a sixth sense of some sort; for no sooner had I opened my eyes once more than I caught sight of three figures riding up the path through the trees. Horsemen, at this hour? Ilani would want to hear about this. Only after a few moments did I realise that they were headed straight for me, and suddenly I was wide awake. Oh, Talos, I couldn't let them see me… As quickly as I could with my body as stiff as an icicle, I scrambled to my feet and slipped behind the boulder, crouching as low as I could. The hoofbeats were coming closer now, my heart racing ever faster in my chest… I couldn't mess this up, not now…

As they came nearer, the hoofbeats slowed. What were they doing? Had they seen me? But no, they were talking. Even if I couldn't see them, I could still listen.

"Look!" I was instantly alarmed by how close the voices sounded. They couldn't be any more than a few feet away by the sound of it. "We can see the Imperial City from here. Isn't it beautiful?" The voice was deep and powerful; that of an Imperial, I guessed.

It was answered by a little chuckle. "You act as though you've never seen Cyrodiil before, Martin." Another Imperial, though this voice was lighter and somewhat more humorous, unlike the heavy tone of the first. There was something about it that I liked, something jovial and good-humoured. Subconsciously, the tiniest of smiles thawed at my ice-cold lips.

"Back in Kvatch-" It was the first Imperial again, the one they called Martin. "-we rarely ever left the temple, let alone the city." His voice was somewhat sad now, and the second man seemed hesitant to reply.

"I'm sorry," was the final, reluctant response, quieter now, so that I had to strain to hear. "About Kvatch. We won't let that happen to you again, not while you're here. Speaking of here…" I could hear his horse start up again as rider turned towards the third member of their company. "Jauffre, how much further?"

"It's just up that hill. We've made good time, you know." The third rider sounded different to the other two; more serious, older, somehow. Their voices were growing more distant now, and I could hear the regular beat of their horses hooves as they made their way up the slope. "I'm sure the Blades will be surprised to see us." It was Jauffre again. "It's not every day the Grandmaster, the Hero of Kvatch and the Emporer's son decide to pay a visit." I stifled a gasp. But the Emporer's sons were dead…

I could hear a short, bitter laugh that I guessed to be Martin's. "At this rate, I doubt I'll ever become Emporer. Without the Amulet of Kings…"

"Jauffre, Martin." The second Imperial's voice was suddenly stern and wary. "Be careful what you say. You never know who might be listening." I felt my heart skip a beat. Had they seen me? Was I breathing too loud? But their voices were distant now, the hoofbeats and the clank of steel fading as they moved up the path. I couldn't make out the reply. Not that it mattered; I had all the information I needed. As soon as the coast was clear I rose and hurried back towards town, trying to picture the look on Ilani's face when I told her. Somehow, I imagined I wouldn't be put on night duty for a while once she heard about this.

- - -

"Riders in Bruma? How many?"

The dark elf's voice was croaky and agitated. She ought to be glad of this information, I thought; instead she seemed as though she were about to tear my eyes out for not spitting out the answers quick enough.

"Three. I - I heard their names, too. Jauffre, Martin and the other…"

The dunmer's devilish eyes widened and she leaned closer, close enough for her foul breath to pollute my nostrils. "Martin? They called him Martin?" I nodded weakly. Ilani's face remained there for a moment, searching for any sign of deception in my eyes. I could almost feel her searing hot gaze burning at my facade, searching for the truth, in the way that only she could do. The silence was chilling – I had to say something. "They said he was the Emporer's son…" I burst out, swallowing hard. "But the Emporer's sons are dead, aren't they?"

She scowled, so hard that her forehead seemed to lose itself amidst wrinkles. "Yes, yes," she snapped. "Never you mind, Laelia. You ask too many questions." But it seemed to have been the right thing to say, for she wheeled round and stalked off, towards the other side of the room. "You can leave now, child," she called over her shoulder. "Run along and play or something, I don't care. Just don't forget you're on night watch again tonight."

I groaned inwardly. So much for gratitude. I suppose I ought to be happy I was getting the morning off. Normally I'd rest for a bit after staying up all night, but Ilani looked like she wanted to be alone. I grabbed my cloak off the back of the chair, glancing back as I did so. The dark elf was sitting hunched over the table, writing furiously; I don't think she even realised I was still there. All the better for me, then. Pulling my cloak over my shoulders, I slipped silently out the back door and back into reality.

I was greeted instantly by an icy gust of wind, so violent that I had to squint to prevent my eyes from stinging. I let my chin drop in a vain attempt to protect my face from the cold, my arms instinctively wrapping themselves around my shoulders. My tattered cloak wasn't much protection on a day like this. On a better morning I might have wandered around a little longer, perhaps pay a visit to the chapel, but today I just wanted to get out of the cold as quick as I could. The streets were deserted – bizarre, considering the time of day. My eyes flickered up to the sun, not far from its pinnacle. It seemed to be about eleven or so. I reached Olav's Tap and Tack and swung open the door, instantly breathing a sigh of relief as the warm air hit me. The others didn't seem as pleased.

"Hey! Shut that door, lass! Yer lettin' the cold in!" someone called. I did as I was bid, muttering an apology. A fellow at the nearest table glanced up at me, raising an eyebrow. "Eh, Olav," he muttered. "Ain't this girl a little young to be in here?" I rolled my eyes. When was everyone going to stop treating me like a child? Seventeen wasn't all that young. The bartender seemed too preoccupied to reply, and I wasn't about to remind him. Quietly I slipped into a seat in the corner, arms folded on the table, shoulders hunched as I scanned the room. There he was, as always. That fool of a Nord Sigard, clanking tankards with Ongar. He noticed me and grinned his toothy grin, beer sloshing from his cup.

"Hey, hey! It's Ilani's gi'l!" he slurred, his voice slow and laboured. I rolled my eyes. "Leh…Lil…"

"Laelia," I replied calmly. He raised his tankard in triumph, spilling beer everywhere as he did so. "Laelia! Da'sh the one." He took a long swig, turning back to Ongar with a wolfish expression. "I met a lash once called Lilla. Pretty gi'l. She 'ad a bit of a thing for me, she did. Thish one time…"

I roll my eyes and do my best to block out his voice. Mid-morning and already he was drunk. I don't know why Ilani even bothered to keep him around. Oh, he had his own little house, not that he was ever sober enough to remember where it was. Sometimes he stayed with Ilani and me, when he was too drunk to find his own way home. Perhaps we made a bizarre threesome – a crabby Dunmer mage, her young Imperial apprentice and an old, drunk Nord. No doubt the people thought us a little strange, which was perfectly true. We were strange. Still, I at least could pass for a northener, with my honey-blond hair and bright blue eyes. I had lived here for as long as I could remember, Ilani longer, and if the locals had put up with us that long, what was a few more years? Oh, I wouldn't stay here. I wasn't going to spend my life in the bitter cold and end up like Ilani, all withered and bad-tempered. One of these days I'd get out of this hellhole. I'd have a little alchemy shop down south, where it's always warm and sunny. Oh, but Ilani would never allow it. Once born into the cult, always in the cult, she says. I wouldn't want to dishonour my parents, would I?

But look at me. A morning off, and all I could do was think about that accursed Dunmer. Even my thoughts were guarded now – I hardly dared to think about what I had heard that sunrise, that conversation. Subconciously I had barred it from my mind, banished it, forgotten it. Ignorance meant freedom. Knowledge can twist and distort the mind, especially the wrong sort. If Ilani had taught me anything, it was never to question. And yet, this was different. Somehow, on some level, this was about me. And so I let my thoughts drift back to that morning, that sunrise…

They called him the Emporer's heir. The Emporer had no living son. The Septim line was dead. Everyone knew that. An imposter? Perhaps. But what of the others, what of his companions? The Breton Jauffre didn't worry me too much – no doubt he was just a bodyguard or some high-ranking official. But the other, the one who's name I didn't hear. He seemed… different to the others. Whether it was the way he spoke, or his jovial laugh, or his amicable manner, I did not know, but something about him entranced me. Perhaps it was only the mystery of not knowing who he was. Certainly I had not seen any of them with my own eyes, merely heard their voices; yet while I could picture the others, he seemed utterly incomprehensible. I just knew that I had to know more about all three of them, whatever the rules may say. I had to find out more.

I was interrupted in my thoughts by a loud slam, as a worn Nordic hand thrust a tankard of ale down in front of me. I looked up, bewildered, at Olav's weary, disinterested face. He jerked his head towards a figure sitting in the corner, watching me intensely. I started in surprise, instinctively averting my eyes. Was this...? No. This couldn't be right. Any second now Olav was going to come back and take the drink away, telling me he'd thought I was someone else. No one ever paid attention to me... But the stranger had stood up now and was coming over to me. I shifted uncomfortably in my chair, still avoiding eye contact. Not now, of all times. Please. Just go away. I stared at the wall, trying my hardest to ignore him. Please, let me be...

He was here now, at my table. Fingers rested on the chair opposite mine as he paused, waiting for some sort of acknowledgement, I imagined. It was times like this that I wished I was more charismatic. I'd be able to retort with some witty remark and stop him in his tracks, send him sidling back to his own table. But I could only ignore him and hope he'd get the message. My eyes flitted briefly, awkwardly upwards; only for a split second, but long enough to take in his sincere (if slightly bemused) smile and youthful features. Feeling my face burn ever brighter, I looked away again, at the walls, the table, anything but him. He wasn't like the locals around here - his gaze was intelligent and perceptive. And it frightened me. If I even looked at him, perhaps he might see through my eyes, those telltale peepholes. Perhaps he could read my thoughts, uncover my secrets. Just ignore him, Laelia, and he'll go away. But he didn't seem to have got the idea – on the contrary, he had every intention of staying. He took a breath now, words forming on his lips. Still I didn't respond, didn't enlighten him with another glance, a smile. Maybe he'd get the message and leave. Please, just go away…

And then I heard his voice... and suddenly it was another matter entirely.

To be continued...

Who is the mysterious stranger? And what does he want? If you'd like to find out, REVIEW! Even if you hate it, please, let me know. I'd love to hear what you think, and when I don't get any reviews I tend to lose interest in what I'm doing. So yes. Review. And a big thank you for reading!