Akatosh sighed, cradling the fragment of a much larger soul in his hands. The very last fragment, in fact.
"Ah, sending along another Dragonborn to defeat your firstborn, I presume?" The voice of Kyne sounded from behind the Divine.
"Yes...Kyne, I tire of this endless cycle. I send another Dragonborn into a different timeline, and every time, each one succeeds, and events always unfold the same way. The College rises and falls, the Companion's gain a new leader, and so on. This does not irk me, but it's the repetitiveness of this Dragonborn that never ceases of bother me. Never the same face, but always the same words."
"Well, they tend to marry or adopt different children, and some do not pursue all of the options, opting to stick to one of their mortal-made organizations."
"I'm aware, but does it not bother you that...virtually the same words escape this Dragonborn in every timeline?"
"I suppose that may prove to become maddening with time." Kyne hummed in understanding. "You never really constructed a true reason for this Dragonborn to come to the land of Skyrim, did you? Perhaps if you did so, things may variate." Kyne mused.
"What do you mean? Of course I have."
Kyne frowned. "It is rarely any more than them appearing on a whim."
Akatosh sighed, knowing he'd been beaten. Curse him for being so sentimental for the sake of his creation. Ah, his creations. One of them was to be destroyed, destroyed for good shall this Dragonborn succeed. "I do not know what to do with this one, though. This one is quite special, or will be."
"How so?"
"My son, my firstborn...he is weakening."
Kyne gazed down at the fragment cradled in Akatosh's palm, and her eyes went wide. "All-maker's wisdom...is that the last shard there is?"
Akatosh nodded sadly. "I'm afraid so. The time for my firstborn's end is drawing near."
Kyne touched his shoulder in comfort, peering at the final shard. "This Dragonborn will need all the strength we can give to them. Alduin will be his strongest; he will not be willing to die."
"I know."
Kyne hummed, straightening. "I'll summon the others."
It only took a moment, but each and every Divine and Deity arose from the ground, huddling around the final shard. Arkay, Dibella, Julianos, Shezarr, Mara, Morihaus, Reman, Stendarr, Talos, Zenithar, Herma-Mora, Jhunal, Maloch, Orkey, Stuhn, Shor, Tsun, Ysmir, Jephre, Lorkhan, Magnus, Phynaster, Syrabane, Trinimac, Xarxes, Xen, Jode, Jone, Lorkhan, Xarxes, Y'ffre, Auri-El, Jephre, Phynaster, Syrabane, Almalexia, Azura, Boethiah, Dagoth Ur, Mehrunes Dagon, Mephala, Molag Bal, Nerevar, Sheogorath, Sotha Sil, Vivec, Diagna, HoonDing, Ius, Leki, Malooc, Morwha, Onsi, Ruptga, Satakal, Sep, Tava, Tu'whacca, Zeht, Phynaster, Sheor, Z'en, Alkosh, Baan Dar, Hircine, Masser, Secunda, Ja-Kha'jay, Khenarthi, Rajhin, Riddle'Thar, Sangiin, Clavicus Vile, Kin, Trinimac, and Malacath all crowded the room, talking, laughing, and arguing.
Akatosh brought his fist down sharply, creating a mighty boom. The room fell silent. Kyne stood in front of Akatosh and addressed everyone.
"Everyone, please. Settle down. The time has come."
"For what?" Y'ffre asked, leaning forward.
"It is time to send out the soul of the last Dragonborn."
Malacath snorted. "And? Why're you bothering us about it?"
"You do not understand. This is the final Dragonborn, the last there will ever be. Alduin can hide no longer."
The room fell into stunned silence, the divines and deities looking among each other.
"Surely that cannot be the last?" Magnus asked, looking sadly at the final shard.
"I'm afraid so. Alduin will not go down easily; he is unwilling to die. I have brought you all before us to bestow something upon them before they are sent on their way. They will need the help."
"Before we do that," Auri-El began, "Who will they be?"
"Ooh, ooh! Make them a handsome boy!" Morwha cried, her four arms swinging wildly.
"Morwha, calm yourself." Azura drawled, shifting her weight onto one foot. "Besides, we have more than enough male heroes, why not make it into a girl!?"
"Ha! Only a man is suited for this grueling task!" Clavicus Vile barked a laugh. "Women are too emotional for this dirty work!"
Sangiin hurled his mug at Clavicus. "Shut yer mouth," He slurred. "Girls are fucken amazing!"
"You're just saying that because you like their boobies!"
The room erupted into squabbles, shouts of each and every race filling the air. Gender, eye color, hair, personality, everything was argued about and every sense of dignity and order in the room was thrown to the wind. Mara slowly approached Kyne and Akatosh as the fight continued.
"Give the shard to me," Mara gently ordered, reaching out her palm. "This Dragonborn must be strong. The strongest power there is, is love."
"Mara," Akatosh cried weakly, furrowing his eyebrows at her embarrassing words.
"It is true. I will give them their strength. I know what must be done."
Akatosh helplessly handed the shard to Mara, who cradled it gently. A golden glow enveloped her, drawing the attention of the squabbling deities. There were cries of outrage, but they knew they could do nothing, lest they jeopardize the soul shard itself. Mara's hood fell from her head as she tilted it back and rose from the ground, her eyes gently closed. Her auburn hair waved around her face, falling loose from it's braid as it floated upwards. She began to speak loudly and clearly as the shard shivered in her palms.
"You are the last Dragonborn, a Redguard, destined to defeat Alduin. The road ahead of you in treacherous, that is undeniable, but with these blessings may you persevere and allow your path to guide you to victory. I name you...Ishtar Alanis, the 13th Shaman of the ancient Alanis family. You will face many hardships in your life that will teach you lessons, and the meaning of sorrow. I bestow upon you the gift of my maternity. May it show you the light in the dark and allow you to spread joy wherever you go. I give you Dibella and Morwha's seductivity, may it guide you from a bind. I give you Herma-Mora and Magnus's wisdom, may it give you the ability to strategize."
Mara intoned her blessings onto the final Dragonborn for a long time, leaving no god out. When she was finished, she sank to the floor in exhaustion, slumping into Akatosh's waiting arms. Every deity stepped forward and touched the fragment to make Mara's words come true, murmuring words beneath their breaths to the soul.
Akatosh left Mara to Kyne, standing above the soul. Slashing his palm, he watched droplets of his own blood fall upon it. Sadly, he held the soul over the edge of the rushing river of time in which the All-Maker, his creator, resided.
"Ishtar Alanis, 13th Shaman of the ancient Alanis family, and the Final Dragonborn, I send you on your way. All-maker guide you."
The All-maker smiled at him, or so he felt, and the water gently floated upwards to just touch his hand. He watched as the soul fragment gently floated into the current, quickly washed away out of sight. He closed his eyes, feeling his heart ache.
"Farewell, my son," He muttered to himself, thinking of his firstborn. "Good luck, Final. You shall need it."
All things considered, Ishtar had to say that her brief time in Skyrim had been kind of entertaining, but this really wasn't the ideal way for it all to end. Between slapping some entitled soldier after he fondled her where he certainly shouldn't have, and ending up knocked out and stripped of all her belongings, dying because her hands were bound together behind her back while she was face-down on the ground really sucked ass. It sucked even more ass considering there was a dragon rampaging just feet away and she had no idea what was going on. Judging by all the screaming, she was pretty sure everyone was dying. Fantastic. At least that gag the asshole soldier had put in her mouth had fallen out in all the confusion, so if she started to get burned or chewed on by the dragon, she could scream. Despite all the wailing and dying noises, Ishtar caught the sound of someone approaching from the left. Maybe they could help her!
"Hey!" She yelled, squiggling a little as if to announce that, hey, she was still alive. "Whoever's over there, could you make yourself useful and cut me loose?! I'd like to die with a little bit of my dignity intact!"
The person gasped loudly and she could hear their feet skid on the crumbling pathway as if they'd jumped. "By the nine, you startled me! I thought you were dead!" A familiar man's voice sounded from close behind her, closer than she'd expected.
"Yeah, that's great and all but I'm going to be dead in a minute anyway if you don't get your ass in gear and cut me loose." Ishtar spat, wiggling vigorously as if to prove her point.
"Oh, yeah," The man seemed to shake himself before kneeling behind her.
There was the tell-tale scrape of a knife leaving it's sheathe before Ishtar felt the rope binding her hands behind her back snap, setting her wrists free. Ishtar scrambled to her feet and wordlessly yanked her companion upright, keeping her eyes on the movements of the nearby dragon. The sky swirled ominously in her peripheral vision. In any other situation, she might've laughed at the cliche feeling of the moment. Swirling, dark sky, screaming people, fire everywhere, buildings collapsed? Check, check, check, and check. Classic scene in some horror stories she'd heard in the past.
"Thanks for that. I'd figured I was kind of screwed, face-down on the ground like that, but I guess not." Ishtar rubbed the sore part of her wrists, turning to look at her savior. "You're that talkative dude who was in that cart with me. Ralof, wasn't it?"
"Yeah, but I don't think this is time for introductions. Let's get moving! If we don't find somewhere stone and not wood sometime in the near future we're dead!" Ralof tugged on Ishtar's arm as the dragon swerved in the air towards their general direction.
"Good call," Ishtar whirled around, dashing into a nearby stone tower with Ralof close in tow.
There were already three men and a woman taking shelter inside, all in navy blue and tan cuirasses, except for the Ulfric Stormcloak guy whom she'd hear Ralof speaking highly of in the cart no longer than twenty minutes prior.
"Jarl Ulfric, what was that thing?! Could the legends be true?!"
'Of course it's fucking true' Ishtar thought, knowing full well that there was most certainly a dragon circling outside, inwardly rolling her eyes. 'What the fuck else is it supposed to be?'
"Legends don't burn down villages,"
There was a horrendous crash outside the doorway and flames began to lick the edges of the nearby dying grass. "We need to move, now!" Ulfric loudly announced, herding Ralof away from the door.
Ishtar turned her attention to the fallen men and the woman who were huddled in pathetic balls on the stone ground. One of the men wasn't even injured, so Ishtar kicked him sharply in the back to get him off his ass, whereas the man to the left had a copious amount of light bruises and scrapes, and the woman had a sizable gash on her side that she was clutching, her face pale. Now, Ishtar was no master of restoration magic, but she knew enough to get by. Gently grabbing the woman's wrist, she pulled away her hand and let a golden glow fill her own. The woman began to tremble, but seemed surprised as she watched her own wound close.
"Is that all there is?" Ishtar murmured, tugging down the woman's cuirass.
The woman nodded, choking out a shaky, "T-Thank you."
"Whatever, I'll just work on your friend here, stand up and start moving. Try not to die." Ishtar told the woman coarsely, kind of winded from the single use of her healing spell alone.
Gods, she seriously needed to work on her magic. Otherwise, she'd need to figure out how to do alchemy. She leaned back on her haunches and fixed up the other guy before helping him up. It was in that moment that the dragon decided it was a fantastic idea to bash it's face into the side of the stone tower, creating a gigantic hole in the stonework. Ralof screamed. 'So much for shelter', Ishtar thought, pressing her lips into a thin line. A column of fire singed the stonework as Ishtar ducked down, pressing her back against the wall. As the dragon flew off, most likely in search of prey that was easier to get at, Ishtar noticed the top of the nearby inn was destroyed.
"Hey, I'm gonna jump through there. The rest of you, follow." She ordered sharply, pointing at the collapsed roof of the inn.
"What?! Are you insane?! There's a dragon out there!" The woman cried, looking between her and the darkened sky incredulously.
"Yeah, no shit! And if we stay here, we're going to be dragon dinner! I don't know about you, but I don't fancy being a sitting duck!" Ishtar seethed at the woman.
The woman stared at her without moving. Without another word, Ishtar jumped from the tower and sailed through the air, rolling onto the charred floor of the inn.
She felt the jab of metal dig into her palm as she landed, and hissed quietly as she quickly healed herself. Wiping the blood from her palm, she looked around for whatever she'd stabbed herself with, figuring it was a weapon of some kind. Her spindly fingers brushed over the hilt of an iron dagger. It was a pretty shitty weapon, but it would have to do. She heard a series of landing thumps behind her, and she turned to see Ulfric, Ralof, one of the men, and the woman who'd been in the tower. Nodding at them, she turned heel and lead the way out, running straight into Hadvar. Ishtar barely had a second to think 'fuck' before the dragon landed right in front of them all. 'Damn it all to Oblivion,' Flynn cursed, but stopped short when it registered that there was kid right in front of the dragon's maw.
A kid.
'Oh, fuck no!' She thought. Doing what was most likely the stupidest thing she'd done in her life, Ishtar stooped down to pick up a large stone and lividly hurled it right at the dragon's snout. Waving her arms wildly to attract it's attention, she charged forwards with the dagger she'd picked up in the decimated inn at the ready. She roughly pushed the child out of the crossfire and to the safety of Hadvar's arms, then sliced the dragon straight across what appeared to be it's nose. The dragon let out a keening sound, and stared her in the eyes for all of two seconds. She could see herself reflected in the red irises. The dragon looked...just as afraid as she did. The dragon tore it's eyes from hers and flew up from the ground, sending down gusts of air great enough to bring her to her knees. The dragon loomed above her and let out a terrible roar. A great gout of flame spurted from it's throat as it screamed, "Zu'u fen ni oblaan!"
'I will not end!' rang in Ishtar's head. She shook it off in favor of dodging the incoming fire and preparing to run like Molag Bal was about to throw her into his sex dungeon.
"Everyone to the right!" Ishtar darted out of the way of the fire before it could char her entirely.
The child from before (wasn't he the kid who'd wanted to watch the soldiers?) ran into her legs, clutching at her waist with his little arms. Crouching down and wrapping herself around him, she covered his head and turned her back to the dragon, waiting for the dragon to try to torch her. Except, for some reason, this dragon decided that this small group of delicious-looking humans weren't worth it's time and it flew off elsewhere. Not looking a gift horse in the mouth, she picked up the trembling kid, who quickly hid his face in the junction of her neck. She looked at the group of people she'd amassed.
"You lot," She addressed them, looking sharply at Ralof and Hadvar, who had decided that now was a great time to squabble like skeevers over a breadcrumb. "Now is not the time for bad blood. Some of us are Imperials, some are Stormcloaks or whatever, and some of us are just people. That doesn't matter right now. What matters right now is not dying, because there's a dragon out here. We need to get underground, and we need to get there fast before this dragon comes by again. Got it? Stop bickering." Ishtar looked between her small group.
The new additions were another (very, very anxious looking) woman, a Breton man, Hadvar, and the kid in her arms.
"Flynnigan is right," The Imperial woman agreed, her eyes fluttering between both Flynn and the boy in her arms. Ishtar remembered this lady; she was standing by as a soldier before she'd almost gotten executed. "I know where the keep is. Keep carrying Haming for me, will you, Flynnigan? Let's go!"
Flynnigan? Ah, Flynnigan. Gods, why had she chosen that name on the spot? Why had she panicked and used a fake name in the first place? That was an awful name. Still, Ishtar supposed it would be awkward to say her name wasn't actually Flynnigan, so she supposed Flynnigan was her name now. Fantastic. Flynnigan was long as hell though; 'Flynn' was less of a mouthful. 'Alright, Flynn it is," Ishtar, or rather, Flynn thought to herself. If she wanted to not sound like an idiot when introducing herself (assuming she made it out of this alive), she'd need to start thinking of herself as Flynn. Yes, her name was Flynn, and she was a very brave woman who was certainly not scared shitless right now. Good. Besides, if she made it out alive from this shit-show, it'd be good to have a fake name to fall back on, lest some people from Hammerfell tried to find her, which she could not allow. She'd had enough close calls in the past. Her foot scraped against some gravel and she stumbled before she corrected herself as followed behind the Imperial woman.
"Where are your parents, kid?" Flynn asked the young boy quietly as she jogged, dodging pillars of fire and the dive-bombing dragon.
"D-Daddy isn't here anymore," The kid said in a terribly shaky voice, his tears and snot rubbing into her shoulder.
Balls.
"What about your mama?"
The kid pointed a soot covered finger at the Imperial woman who was leading the way to the keep.
"That's your mom?"
The kid nodded, leaning his head back on her shoulder. Someone in her group screamed.
"Why am I holding you, then?" Flynn chuckled, lightly prodding the boy's side in a half-assed attempt at a joke.
The kid huffed a laugh, hiccuping a little. "Mama says she can't carry me like than anymore because I'm too big."
Flynn had the distinct feeling that the kid's mom would give no shits about how big he was at this point so long as he stayed alive, but she'd keep that to herself for now. "Fair enough, little one."
The dragon dove behind her and snapped at her. Throwing herself to the left, Flynn protected the kid's head and slid down the wall before the dragon flew off. The kid screamed until she got back up and reunited with her group. The Imperial woman looked very relieved to see them both again.
Soon enough, the Keep came into view. "Come on! Go! Go! Go!" Hadvar yelled at the group, ducking into the keep as the Imperial woman held the door open.
Flynn was the last one inside, and she caught a glimpse of the dragon landing right behind them before she hastily slammed the door shut.
"Mama!" The kid yelled, and for a fleeting, heart-stopping moment Flynn thought she'd closed the door on the Imperial lady before the little boy wriggled out of her grip, running into his mother's arms.
Flynn winced a little as the kid barreled into his mother's chest, knowing that had probably been painful for both of them.
"Oh, Haming, you had me so worried!" The Imperial woman cried, immediately beginning to sob as she clutched her son close to her chest.
"I was so scared, mama!" 'Haming' babbled, fat tears dribbling down his cheeks as he hugged his mother tightly, seemingly unfazed by slamming his face into her armor.
Damn, it never ceased to amaze Flynn how metal kids could be.
Huffing for breath, Flynn leaned against the stone wall, the dying screams of people outside making her chest feel tight. Shit, that was close. What the hell had she been thinking, charging a dragon like that?
"Alright, is everyone accounted for? I counted 5 guys, two women, and the kid." Ulfric addressed the group.
"We're missing 2 guys..." Hadvar bit his lip. "Has anyone seen Edelhard?"
"If you're talking about the guy with red hair, the dragon got him." The Stormcloak lady reported. "We're missing Gunnar. We lost Frey earlier because he wouldn't leave the tower, but you didn't see him."
"Fuck," Ralof hissed.
They were down to 7 people.
"Okay, first and foremost, I'm not going to refer to everyone as "you there". What's everyone's names?" Flynn huffed, pulling herself upright.
"My name is Alfhild, and that's Ralof and Ulfric." Alfhild pointed to her Stormcloak friends respectfully as she went along.
"I'm Eira, and this is my son, Haming. Hadvar's over there." Eira squeezed her son's shoulder.
"Well, I'm Flynnigan, but for the love of Mara, call me Flynn." Flynn introduced herself. "I'm the only one here not affiliated with Imperials or Stormcloaks, so I'm the leader since I'll be the least biased. Anyone who argues will be hit."
"But-!" Ralof began, before Flynn slapped him on the shoulder. "Hey! Ow! Who said you were the leader?"
"I did, jackass- Sorry, Eira -you have ears, don't you? Now, shut your mouth and cooperate." Flynn snapped, slapping Ralof on the back of the head for good measure.
Hadvar snickered and Ralof threw a pebble at him, which earned them both a sharp look from Flynn. "Now, is everyone capable of defending yourself, got a weapon? I don't imagine everyone in this tower is going to be as cooperative as Eira and Hadvar when faced with three so-called prisoners."
"I don't have anything," Haming said meekly.
"I wasn't expecting you to, little one. Borrow my dagger for now." Flynn said gently, handing the dagger she'd picked up in the decimated inn. "I don't imagine you can even pick up a sword, yet."
Haming pursed his lips, looking down at the dagger.
"Hold it like this," Flynn instructed as she tilted his wrist and held it in place, "Keep a firm grip and go for a motion like so," She helped Haming bring down the dagger in a clean swipe. "There. Don't cut yourself, Haming."
"Okay," Haming mumbled, repeating the slicing motions Flynn had shown him.
Leafing through the contents of the room, Flynn picked up a brittle and entirely shitty iron sword and donned some Imperial armor quickly, ignoring the glances she got from Hadvar and Ralof. She stretched her fingers out in the steel gauntlets she'd found, testing the mobility of the steel. It was a little stiff, but it'd have to do. Rolling her shoulders and stretching out her arms, she kept a firm grip on the sword and tilted her head at her group, cuing them to move. Eira scooped up Haming and all 6 adults went careening down the stone hallways, ignoring the roars from the dragon outside. Everyone came to a halt as Ralof and Alfhild gasped.
"Gunjar! No!" Alfhild cried breathlessly, creeping towards the corpse of a fallen Stormcloak man.
"Didn't we lose Gunjar outside?" Eira quirked a brow, peering at the unfamiliar body whilst pressing Haming's face into the crook of her neck so he wouldn't have to see the corpse.
"No, this is Gunjar, not Gunnar." Ulfric explained briefly. "May Talos lift their souls to Sovngarde."
"Yeah, okay. Does he have a weapon on him better than this shi- crappy, sorry Eira-, iron sword?"
Hadvar turned and shot Flynn an incredulous look, flicking a hand towards Gunjar's corpse and the two mourning Stormcloaks.
"Why do you keep apologizing to my mom?" Haming asked from his perch in the crook of Eira's left elbow.
"I'm trying not to curse in front of you, 'cause you're a kid." Flynn explained, before turning back to Alfhild and Ralof's direction. "Well, then? Does he have anything good?"
Ralof gestured kind of helplessly towards Gunjar's corpse and said, "Flynn, he's dead ."
"Yeah? So what?! I'll be dead soon if I don't get a weapon better than this iron sword! What am I supposed to do with this thing anyway?! Kill butterflies?! That'd honestly probably be difficult with this piece of crap anyway!"
Everyone was staring at her as if she was insane.
"Oh, he's a corpse now! Boohoo! Yeah, that's great. All of us are going to be corpses if we don't get back on our feet, all with decent weapons, and get underground before that dragon outside decides that this place is a really good place to destroy! " Flynn spat savagely, looking between the occupants of the room.
"I hate to say it, but she has a point." Hadvar said meekly, stooping down and plucking a steel dagger out of Gunjar's boot. "Will this be better for you?"
"Yes, very much so." Flynn nodded, throwing her iron sword across the room, listening in glee as it clanged loudly against the nearby metal gate and broke in half.
"What was that?" A familiar, and entirely unpleasant voice sounded from where Flynn and her group had come from.
Ugh, fuck. It was the Imperial Commander who was going to send her to her death for no reason. Flynn had some choice words for that bitch.
"Eira, hide with Haming!" Hadvar whispered harshly, readying his sword arm.
Eira quickly ducked behind the bit of the stone wall that jutted out, concealing her and Haming from sight.
Ralof shot Hadvar a questioning look, who hissed, "My commander isn't going to take kindly to us hanging out with you prisoners. We'll probably have to kill her; I don't want the kid to see that."
Ralof nodded as the Imperial Commander rounded the corner, her slanted eyes narrowing to the point that it looked like she probably couldn't see properly.
"Lieutenant Hadvar," She drawled slowly, eyeing the prisoners and Ulfric Stormcloak himself behind Hadvar. "What is the meaning of this treachery?"
"With all due respect, ma'am, there is a dragon destroying Helgen outside. I don't like these stormcloaks any more than you do, but rebels or not, I want to stay alive. If they can help me remain that way, so be it. Do you want to stay with us, or am I going to have to do something drastic?" Hadvar's voice was pure ice, and if it wasn't for his sword shaking in his hand, Flynn might've been a little impressed.
"Is that a threat?" The commander asked, her voice so cold it seemed to make the room drop a few degrees in temperature.
"Maybe it is."
"Sergeant Marcus, help me take down these traitors!" the Imperial Commander commanded the soldier by her side, and without another word she charged forward with her sword arm at the ready.
With nimble feet, Flynn swept in front of Hadvar and blocked the swing of the commander's blade, small golden sparks flashing as steel met steel. The commander grunted as she skidded backwards, leaning forward and swiping at Flynn's left side, the leather of her armor giving easily underneath the blow of the steel sword. Flynn sharply gasped as she felt her skin split open, but she could feel it was a shallow cut. Swinging her arm in a graceful arc, she went to cut the Commander's face but cursed loudly as the commander disarmed her by slamming the flat of her blade against Flynn's wrist. She watched in dismay as her steel dagger skidded across the floor, landing behind the boot of Sergeant Marvin or whatever his name was. The commander smiled victoriously and swung at Flynn again, who ducked out of the way in the nick of time. Suddenly, Flynn got an idea, one that was equal parts moronic and brilliant.
She was wearing gauntlets, wasn't she? Gauntlets made of very hard and probably painful metal. Plus, she'd be damned if she couldn't throw a punch. Not to mention, this bitch wanted to kill her for no gods damned reason. So, logically, this would work. Flynn's left fist rocketed forward and landed right on the commander's nose, which made a satisfying crunch before it spurted out blood. She heard the dying gasp of Sergeant Marcus as he fell by Alfhild's hand, and saw everyone freeze in her peripheral vision. The Commander stooped down from the force of Flynn's punch, stumbling backwards as her right hand flew up to clutch at her nose on reflex.
"You whor-!" The commander began to yell before getting cut off by another blow to her right cheek.
Flynn wasn't quite sure what she was trying to accomplish, but whatever she was doing appeared to be working. She rained punch after punch on the commander, her gauntlets staining with blood. The commander's screams were quickly drowned out by the ringing in Flynn's ears. Or, perhaps she'd stopped screaming. Flynn couldn't tell. The ringing in her ears was so loud, it was too loud, but she couldn't stop throwing swing after swing. She could feel her knuckles split open, and she could feet blood running freely all over the place but she didn't care. Everything was so loud, so bright, so overwhelming and she could feel herself slipping. She could vaguely register cracking and crunching noises, but she felt like she was underwater. She felt like she wasn't there at all. Like she'd disappeared, and she was nothing more than a floating head. A feeling begin to bubble in Flynn's chest, and it wasn't a good feeling; she felt like she was burning. She felt her eyes crinkle and her body start to tremble. Everything felt hot, so hot. It was like she was on fire. She wanted everything else to be on fire.
She punched harder. Her hands shook.
Crack.
The commander had wanted to kill her for no reason.
Crunch.
She punched harder. The commander wasn't moving anymore. There was so much blood.
Pop.
The commander's body collapsed onto the ground; Flynn collapsed with it. Fragments of rock dug into her knees and she punched harder. All she'd wanted to do was get out of Hammerfell. She wanted to live a peaceful life, all by herself and have a fresh start-
Squelch.
-And this commander almost took that opportunity away from her, when she'd been so close to finally being safe! Was it so wrong to want to feel safe?! To not feel like every step you took was wrong?! Someone was screaming.
Crunch squelch pop.
Someone was yelling at her, but she didn't care. She didn't care . Her cheeks felt wet. Her throat felt tight. What did 'safe' even mean? She had no idea.
Crack crack squelch squelch.
She had made it out of that skeever-hole known as home, where everything had always been her fault. It was all over! She was finally free, finally going to live a normal life and be happy-
Squelch squelch squelch.
-but no! Everything she'd worked so hard for was going to be ruined . And not only that but there was a fucking dragon outside! Was she just not good enough to live a happy life? What had she ever done to make the gods hate her so much? Did the gods even know she existed?! Did they even fucking care?!
Squelch Squelch Spurt.
"FLYNN!"
Someone was yanking her arms back and yelling at her. Her cheeks felt wet, and her throat felt raw. She swayed dangerously to the left and caught herself with her hand.
Her hand.
Holy shit her hand. The gore caked all around the gauntlet suddenly slapped Flynn back into reality, just in time to hear Alfhild start to yell at her.
"Woman, what the fuck was that?!" Alfhild looked Flynn in the face, her eyes wide and hands shaking.
Alfhild was afraid. Afraid of her. As if her gauntleted hand wasn't enough before, that was striking enough to catapult Flynn back to full coherency.
"I-I...fuck I'm...I'm sorry I just, I-I don't know." Flynn inwardly cringed at how bad her voice shook, flexing her fingers absently.
Flynn's chest heaved as she looked down at the mess she'd made. The commander was completely unrecognizable, and definitely dead. Her entire skull had been caved in by the force of Flynn's blows, brains and blood splattered everywhere. Slowly, Flynn looked down on her gauntlets again to see them caked with mutilated flesh, fragments of bone, and a copious amount of blood. Looking back and forth between both the body of the commander and her gauntlets, Flynn felt sick. That was the first person she'd ever actually...killed. She could hear one of her group members vomiting. Gods, what had she done? Her legs shaking terribly, Flynn scrambled back onto her feet, trying to focus on staying upright instead of the body of the commander.
"What's going on over there?!" Eira demanded from her hiding place with Haming.
"Eira! Stay over there, don't let Haming see any of this!" Flynn barked out a command, struggling to keep the tremor out of her voice.
"Haming, stay here. I'm going to see what's going on." Eira said to Haming, emerging from behind the wall.
Eira strode towards the group with purpose before stopping short, her eyes widening at the sight of the commander's body. Her eyes flew directly to Flynn's gauntlets.
"Dammit, Eira, I told you to stay over there!" Flynn hissed, hastily ripping her gauntlets off her hands and hurtling them towards the wall.
Eira stared at Flynn with a mixture of several emotions flitting over her face, not speaking for a long time. "What have you done?"
Eyes darting back to the commander and back to Eira, Flynn exhaled shakily, pushing a trembling hand through her hair.
Her fingers knotted into the coarse black strands and she yanked on her hair lightly. "I don't...I don't know what came over me. I was just-just so angry. Fuck, I...I need to burn her body. Haming can't see this."
"Mama? What's going on? Can I come out now?" Haming called from behind the wall, his little foot beginning to peek out from behind the stonework.
"NO!" Eira yelled savagely, loud enough to make Ulfric jump, "Stay behind that wall! Don't come out until I tell you to, you hear me?!"
Haming gasped and his foot disappeared behind the wall again. Without waiting for anyone to say anything else, Flynn called forth a flame into the palm of her hand before sending a plume of fire towards the Imperial Commander's corpse. Unable to bring herself to look away, Flynn watched as the commander's body was consumed by red, quickly deteriorating to nothing but ash. Gods, what the fuck was wrong with her? She didn't even know the commander's name, and yet...she'd done that. Flynn stared at the place the commander's body had once occupied long after it was gone, long after Alfhild and Hadvar had moved Sergeant Marcus and Gunjar's bodies out of sight, and long after Haming had been allowed to come out from behind the wall. She stared in silence until Ulfric called her name.
"Flynn," He said, scuffing the ground with his boot as if he was apprehensive about talking to her. "since you're the self-proclaimed leader, what do we do now?"
A loud rumbling noise echoed from somewhere down the hallway and Flynn heard people screaming. Right, there was still a dragon outside. This was not the time to have a crisis with herself.
"Hadvar, Eira, you two have been stationed here. Which way will take us underground?" Flynn asked, turning to the two Imperial soldiers.
Hadvar stiffened as she looked at him and Flynn felt her chest ache somewhere. She'd already fucked up.
"Down there. We better hurry, though," Eira pointed to the left.
"What are we waiting for, then? Let's go." Flynn turned, her hair swishing behind her as she strode quickly down the hallway.
Sunlight streamed into a large hole in the ceiling, briefly blotted out by the swooping dragon. Ushering Haming and everyone else away from the gaping hole in the ceiling, Flynn kept an eye on the dragon until everyone was safely out of sight into the next room. The next room was blissfully empty of any soldiers. Looking around, Flynn spotted a shelf packed with a ton of healing potions. 'Jackpot', Flynn thought with glee.
"Hey, there's a bunch of healing potions over here. Let's take them." Flynn pointed.
"How are we going to carry them?"
Pursing her lips, Flynn looked around the room for any bags. That was a good question. Eyes landing on an innocent looking chest across the room, Flynn went to open it to find it was locked. 'Dammit.'
"Does anyone see a key or maybe some lockpicks?" Flynn asked over her shoulder, moving papers around on a nearby desk.
"Uhh...aha! I found a keyring." Alfhild yelled from across the room.
There was a clattering sound a few feet away from Flynn's left foot and she looked over to see that Alfhild had thrown the keys to her. "You have terrible aim, Alfhild." Flynn shook her head, scooping up the keys and shoving random ones into the chest's lock.
"I never said I was an archer," Alfhild replied before walking somewhere else.
Finally, one of the keys on the key ring slid into the lock and Flynn opened the lock, smiling. Hopefully the chest had something good in it. Opening the lid, Flynn saw that the chest had something even better than 'good' in it; it was filled with goodies, including her belongings! Excitement bubbling in her chest, Flynn yanked out her cloak and her enchanted bag. Jangling her bag, she felt that it was still as heavy as usual and still locked, meaning it still held her belongings. Gods, she was so glad to see her bag again; it was the only good thing that had come from her family. It had been passed down to her great grandmother, her grandmother, her mother, and finally her. It had been enchanted by a snow elf long ago to be big enough to hold anything inside of it. The only downside is that, while it could literally fit anything, it could get really heavy if you had a lot of shit in there, so you had to be pretty strong if you wanted to carry around a lot. Other than her bag, she was glad to have her cloak back. It acted as some sort of security blanket for her (Gods, that sounded really pathetic, even in her own head!), and it was enchanted to be resistant against magical damage and melee damage alike, so she was sure it'd be coming in handy more than once.
"What did you find in there?" Ulfric peered from behind Flynn's shoulder blade, eyeing her pleased face warily.
"My belongings." Flynn smiled gleefully, swinging her cloak around her shoulders and clipping her back onto her left hip.
"My sword is in here! Alfhild, Ralof, I think this is where they stored our stuff!" Ulfric yelled over his shoulder.
Ralof and Alfhild trotted over, eagerly searching through the chest and reacquiring their belongings.
Ralof spoke up once he'd grabbed everything that was his. "You know, there's some nice stuff in here. It'd be a shame to let it all go to waste, but we can't carry it all."
"What a pity," Alfhild shrugged.
"Actually," Flynn began, casting the opening spell on her bag, "I can get it. What's of worth in there?"
Alfhild eyed Flynn's small bag and snorted, "If you think you can stuff a whole sword in that tiny bag, be my guest."
Looking Alfhild dead in the eyes, Flynn wordlessly pulled a steel sword out of the chest and began to shove it into her bag. Alfhild briefly looked amused as if she thought Flynn was joking, but her face quickly melted into an expression of shock as the whole sword fit into Flynn's bag.
Spluttering and pointing a finger at the bag with wide eyes, Alfhild gaped, "What in the name of Oblivion?! Am I the only one who just saw that?!"
"Saw what?" Haming asked, peering over at Flynn.
Still silent, Flynn pulled the steel sword back out of her bag, watching Haming's eyes go wide.
"Whoa! How are you doing that?!" Haming gasped, looking down into Flynn's bag. "You've got a lot of stuff in here!"
"I know," Flynn smirked cheekily, "this was actually my great grandmother's bag. It was specifically enchanted to hold anything in it. The only downside is that it gets pretty heavy if you have too much junk in it. I remember that when I first got this bag, I shoved 50 apples in here just for laughs. Even then, it hardly weighed a thing."
"That's so cool!" Haming laughed. "Do you think I could fit in there?!"
"I think you're too big to fit through the opening, but it's plausible. I wouldn't try it though; you might get stuck in there." Flynn ruffled Haming's hair. "Help me shove all this stuff into my bag."
Together, Haming and Flynn made quick work of the contents of the chest. Haming laughed loudly, and Flynn peered over his shoulder and started laughing too. There was a bunch of nice clothing in there...and a bunch of lady briefs and loincloths. Haming and Flynn both exchanged a look and, while laughing, shoved all the clothes and underwear into her bag. Eh, she'd probably sell them later. Might as well humor the kid, and hey, if someone pissed her off enough, she had underwear to fling at their face. After everything was in her bag, Flynn clipped it back onto her hip, along with an Elven sword. Better safe than sorry. Afterwards, Flynn unceremoniously dumped all of the healing potions into her bag, knowing that the bottles wouldn't break. The bag was magical for a reason, and even if it wasn't magical enough, she was sure all the loincloths would cushion it.
"Alright, that's everything. Let's get out of here. Lead the way, Hadvar, Eira."
As they ran with haste behind Eira and Hadvar, Alfhild pulled on Flynn's cloak to get her attention. "Hey, I forgot to mention, but I found these gauntlets back there. Dunno what they're supposed to be made of, but given what happened with the, uh, other gauntlets you were wearing, I figured you could use these," Alfhild shrugged a little, extending a pair of somewhat worn gauntlets.
Flynn huffed a laugh when she recognized the carvings on the gauntlets from some of the books she'd read in the town library back home in Hammerfell. "What kind of Nord are you meant to be? These are of Nordic craft. See the carvings?"
"Oh," Alfhild muttered dubiously, "I've never seen any Nord-made armor like this."
"Where did you grow up?"
"Darkwater crossing. I've only lived in Windhelm for a little while...well, before I ended up here."
"Makes sense that you haven't seen these, then. There aren't a lot of good Nordic smiths in that area from what I've heard. It takes a skilled smith to make something like this." Flynn explained. "Thank you for giving me the gauntlets though, I appreciate your concern for me."
"No problem. For the record though, there IS a good smith in Windhelm, his name is Oengul War-Anvil. You'd do well to not insult him; he's my uncle."
"Oops, sorry. I suppose he's a good blacksmith, but he certainly isn't well known."
Alfhild scoffed and playfully punched Flynn on the shoulder. "You just haven't been in Skyrim long enough to hear about him. I'm telling you, he's making ripples!"
"Mhm," Flynn hummed disbelievingly and kept running, seeing Alfhild exasperatedly shaking her head in her peripheral vision.
Sliding her new gauntlets on her hands, Flynn flexed her fingers and smiled. A perfect fit.
"Through here!" Hadvar yelled, pointing at a large open area.
As everyone hurried against the creaking bridge, the floor began to rumble and the walls began to shake. Loose rocks and dirt began to tumble from the ceiling above. Flynn barely had a moment to even think of a curse word to yell before the first huge rock came crashing down, destroying the wood plank just behind her. The breeze left behind from the stone's plummet ghosted against the back of her neck, making her shudder. More large stones tumbled out of the ceiling, making horrible crashing noises as they collided with wood and rock. Just as the ceiling completely caved in, Flynn made it across, whipping her cloak away just in time to see a large rock slam where she would've been just a fraction of a second ago. The horrible rumbling stopped and Flynn gaped at the pile of rocks before her.
"Damn, that was close. You almost got crushed there, Flynn." Alfhild slapped her on the shoulder, a puff of dust appearing after her hand, "You're supposed to be leading us, not kicking the bucket."
"Well, we're not going back that way," Ralof unnecessarily commented, gesturing towards the rock pile and chuckling. "Hope no one dropped anything."
"I don't think we did. Well, we're here. We're underground, and pretty much safe." Hadvar sighed, slumping on a nearby rock. "I can't believe we're all still alive. Flynn, d'ya think it's fine here, since you're our self-proclaimed leader?"
Flynn scoffed, scuffing her boot against the loose gravel. "The ceiling just caved in a little ways behind us. Who's to say this area won't too? We're underground, but not far enough. We still need to locate an exit. We can sit for a minute, but we can't stop moving for long."
For a couple minutes, everyone stood around and chatted a little, very much glad to still be alive. There was a healthy amount of moaning and groaning when Flynn told everyone to get back up, but they had to keep moving for obvious reasons so no one really complained. The roaring of the dragon was a little too close for comfort. Following the happily gurgling stream, Ulfric and Flynn led the way down the damp, bumpy path.
Haming gasped loudly and pointed a chubby finger ahead. "Mama, is that a dead guy?!"
Eira immediately covered his eyes just in case, but the "dead guy" (who was most certainly dead) had long since been reduced to nothing but a skeleton, which really wasn't that traumatic. Eira uncovered Haming's eyes and Flynn plucked up the coin purse next to the poor sap. Free money was free money. Squeezing through the small rocky opening, the area opened into a large space with a suspicious amount of webs and egg sacs. Ulfric didn't seem to care and pushed past Flynn unabashedly.
"Sir, I'd be careful if I were you, these egg sacs look pretty...fresh…" Alfhild's voice slowly died out as she looked up, and following her gaze, Flynn saw why. "...Sir!" Alfhild said, a note of urgency in her tone.
"What the matter? Even if those little gremlins are still around, they're not that bad. Get a grip, let's go." Ulfric said grumpily, swinging his arms around exaggeratedly.
It was in that moment that a ginormous Frostbite spider descended from a large hole in the ceiling...directly on top of Ulfric. Letting out an entirely undignified shriek, he fell to the ground and flailed wildly. Reflexes finally kicking it, Flynn dashed forward and dealt a swift end to the spider on top of Ulfric with her new Elven sword. Gross spider juices spurted out of the wound she'd left behind, and the beast let out an ungodly high-pitched shriek before it knew no more. More (thankfully smaller) spiders began to descend from the ceiling on thin strands of webbing, and Flynn hopped around in a fashion that looked to be some sort of crazed version of the polka, killing the spiders as fast as she could while Ulfric continued screaming for no other reasons than the fact that there was gross spider juice in his mouth and tiny spiders were crawling on him. Once all the spiders were sufficiently destroyed, Ulfric, in all his kingly grace, scrambled upwards and threw up off to the side.
The rest of their group, who'd wisely (and dickishly) stayed back, came walking over to her. Alfhild rubbed Ulfric's back sympathetically while Eira and Hadvar burst into peals of laughter.
"Oooh! That's our High King everybody! Look at that grace, that majesty! He's so amazing!" Eira mocked, falling over herself with laughter.
Hadvar's words were nearly incomprehensible as he gasped out in between wheezes of laughter, "Did you see his face?!"
"Both of you, quit it. I think anyone would freak out if a gigantic spider landed on top of their heads!" Flynn swatted Hadvar upside the head. "Yeah, the shriek was a little undignified, but I'm sure you'd scream like a bitch too."
Ulfric shook himself, trying and failing to fix his expression. "Shut up!" He hissed, blushing a furious red. "Let's just go!"
Slipping and sliding on the mossy, slimy rocks, they all followed a stomping Ulfric until they came across a sleeping bear. After a bit of squabbling, they decided against attempting to sneak past it, mostly because Flynn exasperatedly had stomped forward and stabbed it in the neck, killing it instantly. Almost too soon, the exit of the cave came into view.
"Oh, thank Arkay that there's actually an exit. I was afraid there wouldn't be." Eira sighed, leaning against the wall, basking in the dim glow of the light for a minute. "Haming, are you okay?"
"I'm okay, mama. Are you?"
"...Not really, but things are going to be okay." Eira sighed, running a hand through her brown hair, messing up her bun.
"Your husband...he didn't make it out, did he?" Ralof asked, coming into close proximity to Eira.
"I don't think so." Eira choked out, growing teary eyed as she hugged her son close. "I don't know what I'm going to do if he didn't."
"Hey, it'll be alright. Riverwood isn't far from here, and I'm sure my sister wouldn't mind you and Haming staying with us until you can get back on your feet." Ralof offered, squeezing Eira's shoulder. "What about the rest of you guys? Have anywhere to stay? Don't answer Ulfric; I know you have your palace." Ralof asked, looking behind him.
"Ralof, you daft idiot. I grew up with you, you don't even need to ask me that. I'll just stay with Uncle Alvor and my cousin." Hadvar rolled his eyes, swatting Ralof on the shoulder.
"I'd just stay in the Inn for a bit until I can go to Whiterun and get a carriage back home to Windhelm with my uncle, the very good smith," Alfhild said, saying the last bit pointedly at Flynn.
Everyone looked expectantly at Flynn for her answer as to where she'd stay. For the first time that day she balked a little. She didn't have an answer.
"I, uh...I actually don't live anywhere. I have no family here or anything, I actually came to Skyrim a day or two ago, trying to make a new life before I got corralled with you Stormcloak idiots." She answered, looking at the ground sheepishly. "I was probably just going to find a nice Inn and get a job there, but that got a little derailed."
"How'd you get into cahoots with the Stormcloaks anyway?" Hadvar asked, shifting his weight to his other leg.
Oh boy, story time."I arrived in Darkwater crossing a little while before the Stormcloaks got there. I was doing some work in the mines for some extra coin when some Imperial soldiers came by to set up camp. I could tell they weren't really welcome there but everyone was too scared to tell them to fuck off, so I figured I'd do it myself. Instead of responding negatively to my threats, they just laughed at me and said some shit about how a pretty girl like me couldn't do shit, and one of them touched my butt. Me being me, I didn't really like that, so I slapped the shit out of the guy. His friends ganged up on me and knocked me out just as you Stormcloaks arrived. In the confusion, the guy I slapped put me in the cart with you idiots. That's why I smacked the back of his head, had my hands tied behind my back earlier, and why I was gagged too." Flynn recounted, idly rubbing her wrists. Looking up, she saw the horrified expressions on everyone's faces. "...What?"
"So, you came here to build a new life for yourself, and nearly got executed for no reason just for defending yourself?" Ulfric asked slowly, his eyebrows scrunched together.
"Yes."
"...By the Nine, you're serious, aren't you?"
"That's why you were so brutal with the Imperial Commander! She was sending you to your death for no reason!" Alfhild gasped, slapping her hand to her forehead. "Okay, yeah, I would've been pissed too! Maybe not so mad that I'd, y'know, but yeah, I'd make sure she was dead too. I was wondering why you reacted to strongly," Alfhild sighed, slumping against the jagged wall of the cave.
"I have a question. Why did you come here? Daddy said that Cyrodiil was a nice place." Haming asked, leaning his head on Eira's arm, frowning a bit at the thought of his father.
"I've actually been all over Tamriel. From Elsweyr to High Rock. Nowhere has really felt right, but time and time again I've heard of Skyrim and thought it might be. I never actually came here though, thinking I was just crazy. Since I've been everywhere, I realized that the only place left to go was Skyrim. The moment I set foot here almost felt like coming home. It was...surreal, and since then I've decided that this is where I'll stay." Flynn shrugged, rubbing her boot on the gritty ground.
"Why did you ever leave Hammerfell anyway, assuming that's where you come from?" Ulfric asked, crossing his arms.
Flynn stiffened visibly and tugged on a strand of wavy hair, looking away. Dammit, that was the one question she was hoping no one would ask. "Because Hammerfell was not...good."
"What do you mean by 'not good'?" Ulfric continued to prod.
"I mean exactly what I said! It sucked there! That's all there is to it!" Flynn suddenly snapped. "Quit pestering me! I don't need to prove anything to you!"
"Oh, tragic backstory. Hooray. Ulfric, back down, she doesn't want to talk about it." Eira cast Ulfric a disapproving look. "She's right. She doesn't have to prove anything to you, big scary Jarl or not."
Ulfric grumbled under this breath and leaned against the wall next to Alfhild. "Whatever. We still don't know where she's staying."
"Right, that was the point of this. You can stay in Riverwood for awhile with either me or Ralof, if his house is big enough." Hadvar told Flynn, patting her on the shoulder.
"Eira can just stay with Ralof. I'll hang out with you." Flynn shrugged. "Come on, let's not go outside just yet. Let's rest for an hour or two so we can decompress from this shit and make sure that stupid dragon is gone."
"Good call." Alfhild muttered, sliding down the wall, Ulfric sliding down next to her. Hips popping, Hadvar winced as he sat next to Alfhild. Ralof sat to the left of Eira, and Flynn sat to her right, Haming sitting on her lap.
"So...what should we do for the next hour or so?" Ralof asked dubiously, rubbing his knee.
"I dunno, but Haming, you should take a nap. It's been a long day, sweetpea." Eira stroked his hair.
"Mama, I'm not a baby anymore!" Haming loudly complained, turning around and narrowing his eyes at his mother. "I'm 7! I'm a big boy!" He further insisted, crossing his arms.
"Hun, no one is too old for a nap." Flynn huffed a laugh, rubbing his back.
"I know you're not a baby, but you'll always be my baby," Eira sighed, "even when you're a 40 year old butthead who never visits me."
"I'm always gonna visit you!" Haming huffed, curling up on Eira's lap. "Even if I die, my ghost will come back to say hello!"
Eira laughed out loud at that one, flicking Haming on the nose. "You're not allowed to die before me, or I'll ground you."
"You can't ground me if I'm dead!"
"I'd figure it out. Take a nap."
"...Okay," Haming finally relented, his lips pursed into a pout as he stuck his face into the crook of Eira's neck.
Within minutes, he was sounded asleep. Rolling her eyes, Eira ruffled her son's hair. "Ha, 'Big Boy' my left tit."
"Now, what?"
"We can talk about politics," Flynn shrugged.
Everyone let out a collective groan at that.
"Hey, maybe I can get some education on this whole civil war shit that's apparently happening here."
"Alright," Hadvar leaned forward, resting his elbows on his thighs, "what don't you know?"
"Everything, pretty much. All I know is that Stormcloaks are a bunch of racist, narrow-minded nords who don't like this whole Aldmeri Dominion bullshit and the Imperials are haughty buttheads who, because they're cowards, support these elves that apparently murdered everyone." Flynn reported, eyeing everyone's offended faces. "What? This is from an outsider perspective."
"If I didn't like you, I'd smack the shit out of you," Alfhild sighed, flicking Flynn on the nose.
"Alfhild, I literally beat a woman to death right in front of you."
Alfhild snorted a laugh. "Yeah. That was horrifying, but in retrospect, what else were you supposed to do? Let her kill you?"
"Ha, yeah. We're getting off topic. So, since I'm so wrong, how about you guys defend your sides of the war, and try to tell me who's right?" Flynn turned to the rest of her group.
Ulfric let the redness in his face die down before he began to speak in a surprisingly calm tone. "We are the Stormcloaks. Some call us an unorganized alliance, perhaps that's what we are, but we would die for our homes. Not only did those Imperial idiots bow down to those elves in a cowardly attempt to save face, but in an act of appeasement, they agreed to ban the worship of Talos, the most important Divine to us Nords! I am a true son of Skyrim because it is my home, I'm not going to just sit back and let it be laid to waste by those tyrannical elves. Can you even begin to imagine not being able to freely worship a god because of some self-righteous elves?! I admit that some of my men are prejudiced, but what reason do they have to not be?! Elves have slaughtered their whole families as if they meant nothing! Elves here in skyrim are usually nothing but trouble. Thalmor are a big example of that. And even if you think my men are racist if the Thalmor succeed in wiping out Talos, do you really believe they'd stop there? Ha! I know first-hand that they don't give a damn about Talos; they just want to break us down and make us easier to defeat, and they're starting with what's most important to us!"
Hadvar seemed to take more offense with every word, and also grew quite red in the face. It was surprising how quickly they'd gotten so riled up. Shrinking a little, Flynn exchanged a look with Eira.
"You want to know why we bowed down?!" Hadvar began to say with a heated, raised voice. "Because our men were being slaughtered every second of that gods damned war! Gods, could you even see how many of us were dying? The elves were too powerful to be taken down, if we'd just kept fighting, everyone would have died! Did you ever even bother to take a look at those piles of bodies every day? Can you even imagine how many faces of the dead are still burned into my mind today?!" Hadvar glared darkly over at Ulfric as he seethed, hands shaking in rage. "What choice did we have?! Not only that, but at least we have structure in our armies! Your men are nothing but racist, slur-screaming rabble! We haven't bowed to the elves, we-!"
"You're contradicting yourself! You just said that you laid your weapons down to the elves, surrendering for the sake of our armies, and yet you say you haven't bowed?! Ha!" Alfhild joined in on the shitshow of a debate, pointing a finger in Hadvar's face. "You're too ashamed to admit that you gave up!"
"All of you, quit it before you wake up Haming!" Eira hissed, rocking back and forth to lull a stirring Haming back to sleep. "Here, let's have a thought-out version of why the Imperials are correct, courtesy of me. Shut up, and listen to someone sensible." Eira cast a pointed look at Hadvar, who was still seething, before she turned back to Flynn. "The Empire lost a rather long and bloody war with the newly formed Aldmeri Dominion, or the Thalmor, after not having a "proper" heir to the throne after the death of Martin Septim in the Oblivion Crisis. Because of a shitload of disagreements, what we call the Great War ensued. The Empire lost, but not totally, enabling them to keep sovereignty. Ulfric Stormcloak here was not happy with the terms of the White-Gold Concordat, which is what stopped the war, so instead of going underground with Talos worship, he chose to challenge the high king for sovereignty of Skyrim, so that he himself could oppose the Thalmor, with Skyrim behind him. However, doing this would require breaking ties with the rest of the Empire, which would leave both the empire and Skyrim crippled and incapable of dealing with the power of the Aldmeri Dominion, who, due to these their terms being broken, would in turn retaliate and destroy both. By getting rid of this Stormcloak business, we can form ties with the elves and all of us can live peacefully, and not worry about losing everything near and dear to you. Doesn't it seem like more than a fair trade? To be dead honest, the Thalmor could've done a lot worse, but all they've really done is prevented the worship of some God. Yes, Talos is important to the Nords, but there's 8 other gods you can freely worship. I suppose in an essence Ulfric's intentions might be noble, but since it's all entirely stupid, I've decided that the Imperials have the right idea, hence why I've joined up with them. Furthermore, Ulfric, no offense, but you also happen to be a rampant racist, or come across as such, and because of that you'd probably turn out to be just as much of a tyrant as an Imperial leader, in different ways."
Eira leaned back against the wall, her point made. Hadvar nodded at her and a self-satisfied smile shone on his face.
"See, this is why every army should be composed on women, they can actually think." Hadvar chuckled. "Speaking of which, what do you think, Flynn? Who do you support?"
"What do I think? I think that all of you are idiots, in different ways ," Flynn mocked Eira's closing words. "Okay, I know enough to form an argument here. Eira, you were more informative, but both of you have holes in your arguments. I'm going to include one of Hadvar's points with Eira's while I rip both Ulfric and Eira to shreds." Flynn clasped her hands together and leaned forward. "I am an outsider. Plain and simple. I am not Imperial, nor am I nord. Therefore, my opinion here is going to be the least biased and less blinded by personal belief, so I'd advise you listen."
"If you're an outsider, how would you know about the strife on both sides? Why should we listen to you if you know nothing of our cause, our reasons?!" Ralof demanded.
"I know of your strife and reasons, both Eira and Ulfric literally just told me all about them. You should listen to me because I could form an opinion without previous bias. Learn to listen." Flynn said shortly. "Ulfric, Eira had a point at the end there; you come across as a racist bigot. If you hold those biased beliefs, how could you rule over the people of Skyrim, seeing that you don't view everyone here as people?"
"You'd be a little bigoted too if Elves captured and tortured you for days on end," Ulfric said darkly, glaring daggers at Flynn.
"Oh," Flynn balked a little. "that uh, changes things a little. But, that supports the idea that you hold bigoted beliefs. If you were to be a proper ruler, you'd need to realize that not every elf is like those ones who tortured you."
"Those weren't just any elves. They were the Thalmor." Ulfric said shortly, his piercing blue-gray eyes never straying from hers.
"Uh, wow. Okay. That's really fucked up. No wonder you're pissed at elves, but still. Not every elf is affiliated with the Thalmor. You can't forget that."
"You can't tell whether or not they are, though," Alfhild chimed in. "And I think that's the problem here."
"Alright, whatever. Let's look at Ulfric. He has a very good point; why would these all-powerful elves just stop you from worshiping a God? Why would it end there? Eira, you cited this as a fair trade; does that not seem almost too fair?"
Eira went wide-eyed at this and sunk a little. "I...you're right."
"Of course I am. Furthermore, I'm not saying that these problems arose solely because the Imperial's bowed to the elves because, let's face it, that's exactly what you did, but I am saying that that's what made this whole Civil War domino into place. It almost seems calculated. However, it makes sense that the Imperials were forced to bow to the elves; if they had not done so, the Thalmor would still have crushed us and imposed the same doctrines. Bowing was better than falling. But, I already know that back then, Men outnumbered Mer at a ratio of 3:1. Somehow, this minority of mer managed to crush all these men. Why? I believe it's because the Mer had better war tactics. Men thought magic was for the weak, but from what I can tell, the use of magic in the elven ranks is what led to the fall of men. Had magic not been so underestimated, and better war tactics thought out, men could've emerged victorious."
"I remember thinking a lot of our tactics were stupid," Ulfric admitted, rubbing the back of his neck.
"Precisely. Now, circling back to Hadvar's point, your side of the war really didn't have a choice in regards to surrendering. I admit that it was a cowardly thing to do, to appease the elves, but what other option did you have? Elves, namely the Thalmor, were and are the biggest threat at the moment, so they do pose a threat, Eira. They wouldn't stop at banning Nordic worship; they'd keep going until men were beaten into submission. But, while I'm finding myself supporting Stormcloaks, they shouldn't destroy the imperials, much less have caused this civil war at all. Even if the Stormcloaks win, the Thalmor would set sights on our shores and, since their treaty was broken, would lay waste to the Empire. The Stormcloaks are right, the elves, Thalmor particularly, pose an enormous threat. This war alone is stupid; you're tearing your own country apart, and once that's done it'll make it so much easier for the…" Flynn began to trail off as a terrible, striking realization hit her. "Mara's ass...This is what the Thalmor wants."
Ulfric leaned forward. "What? What is it?"
"Ulfric you've...been tortured by the elves, right? Your hatred for elves is what drives you."
"I suppose, but what does that have to do with anything?"
"You idiots! It has to do with everything! How can't you see what's happening here?!"
"What?! What's happening?! Explain!" Alfhild demanded.
"Ulfric, you've played right into the Thalmor's hands." Flynn stared up at Ulfric. "They've used you. This is what they wanted all along, can't you see? You have political power, you're a Jarl. They made you hate them, and they took away what helped you; your worship. They banned the worship of Talos. The Thalmor aren't stupid, and they know that banning Talos worship, and having permission to enforce it themselves, would cause a great rift in the population of Skyrim. They knew you would hate this! They wanted you to, because if Skyrim were to destroy itself with a civil war, the Thalmor could easily crush the empire wanted you to start this stupid civil war! They wanted, needed this war so that Skyrim, the biggest threat to the elves, would tear itself apart for them!"
Ulfric went a ghostly shade of white, and everyone else followed.
"By the Gods," Ralof whispered. "By the Gods, you're right. You're right! How did we never see this?"
It was very quiet for a long time. "Arkay's mercy, what have we done to ourselves?" Eira murmured, looking at the ground.
"Okay...I think that's enough about this. Ulfric, if I were you, I'd try to build up your army more and speak with Imperial commanders. Help them see my point, and join up with them. Stop trying to murder them. That's all I'm going to say about this. Let's just...shut up about politics for awhile."
"Yeah, that's a good idea. I need...time to think."
An hour came and went, and Flynn's awfully silent group stepped out into the light of a beautiful sunset. Haming was walking by himself, still a little groggy but overall okay. He cried a little bit when the true decimation of Helgen came into view, but overall he was okay. However, Flynn wasn't sure that the smell of ashes and burnt flesh would ever truly leave her. The walk to Riverwood was fairly quiet and peaceful, a stark contrast to the horror of Helgen. Haming looked very sad as he walked along. Flynn's heart broke for him a little. He'd lost his father, and most likely a lot of his friends today. No child should ever have to deal with that. Picking a blue mountain flower, Flynn tucked it in his curly hair and lightly pinched his cheek. He looked up at her and gave her a watery smile. Suddenly remembering something, Flynn took the flower back out of his hair and held it in her palm.
"Haming, watch this," Flynn murmured, calling forth a pink glow into her hand.
The flower straightened itself out in her hands before becoming outlined in pink, before seemingly returning to normal. Smiling, Flynn tucked the flower back into Haming's hair, poking him on the nose affectionately.
"What'd you do to it?" Haming asked, his eyebrows scrunched in confusion.
"It's an simple, yet hard to truly master, alteration spell. That flower is now in a permanent form of stasis. You can never destroy it, it will never wilt, nor will it ever die." Flynn briefly explained. "Some Wood Elves taught me it when I spent some time in Valenwood. It's really hard to learn, but once you do, it's very simple for you to accomplish. Maybe sometime I can teach you?" Flynn offered.
Haming's face broke into a stunning smile. "That sounds like fun."
"Glad you think so," Flynn ruffled his hair, and continued walking.
Eira turned slightly and sent Flynn a very grateful look, almost imperceptibly smiling as she squeezed Haming's shoulder. As the hues of red, orange, and pink in the sky began to give way to a violet twilight, the rushing river led them to Riverwood. The town itself was almost mockingly peaceful, the bitter tang of ash in the air the only thing that evidenced the horror that had only taken place mere hours before. A blonde woman who looked strikingly like Ralof was the first to catch sight of them. She dropped the bucket she was holding, water splashing the pathway and creating a huge puddle. She sprinted towards them and crushed Ralof into a hug, nearly knocking him over (and subsequently Eira, who had been behind him).
"Ralof! By the Gods, I was terrified! I'd heard what happened in Darkwater crossing, and news of Helgen just reached here! I was afraid you'd gotten captured!"
"How did you know about Helgen?" Alfhild asked suspiciously. "Did more people come out of there?"
"There was an Imperial fellow who died right in front of Sven. Sven had been out hunting in those parts, and once he'd heard the news, he came back here to alert me of what had happened. I was going to send him to the Jarl in the morning." The woman, presumably Ralof's sister reported. "Wait, what do you mean by more? Did others make it out of there?"
"Yes," Flynn nodded, "we're the only ones who made it out, apparently. That is, if no one else has come here."
Ralof's sister froze, her face melting into shell-shocked horror as she took in the soot-covered, dirty group of people before her. She looked between each and every person, her eyes lingering on Ulfric Stormcloak himself, and she looked to Ralof. Meeting his eyes, he nodded at her. At once, tears began to trickle down her face.
"Oh Gods...out of everyone there, you all are the only ones left?" She choked out, her voice clouded with disbelief.
"As far as I can tell, yes." Ulfric nodded. "And, if it weren't for this Redguard with us, I don't think any of us would've made it out alive. You have her to thank for your brother coming out of there."
A little embarrassed at Ulfric's words, Flynn squirmed as Ralof's sister stared at her for a very long time. Ralof's sister's breath suddenly hitched and she fell forward, pulling Flynn into her arms and hugging her tightly. And, all at once, Ralof's sister began to sob, just as the townsfolk began to gather around.
"Hadvar?!" A masculine voice sounded from the left by the nearby forge.
"Uncle Alvor!" Hadvar began running towards this 'Alvor', and Alvor began running too. They met at the halfway point between them both, and Hadvar was crushed in Alvor's arms.
"By the Eight, boy! I was so worried! I knew you were stationed in Helgen, I was praying to every god there is that you'd come here!" Alvor sobbed, hugging his nephew tightly. "You nearly killed your Aunt with worry!"
"I know, I know, but I'm here. I'm okay, thanks to Flynn." Hadvar said thickly, pressing his forehead into Alvor's shoulder.
Alvor looked up and locked eyes with Flynn, who was beginning to feel very uncomfortable with all the attention she was receiving. She awkwardly rubbed Ralof's sister's back and nodded at Alvor, answering the question that was sure to be on his mind. Alvor's eyes welled up with tears, and just as Ralof's sister had done, he stumbled over and hugged Flynn tightly. Looking back at her group, she pleaded for help with her eyes, only to see they were on the verge of tears too. Sighing, Flynn tried to relax and patted both Alvor and Ralof's sister's back as the town folk looked on.
