Hey yeah a crossover. I've thought about this story for months. Hope ya'll like.
Armored flesh gave way under his blade.
He could feel the power of the Archdemon ripping through him, it was a pain like a hundred thousand sewing needles piercing through his skin tied with spider silk. In the back of his mind he heard that mourning cry of his friend, the new King consort. He opened his eyes and saw only flames.
"MARTIN!" a woman screamed.
Something burst outside of him and he clattered, broken, to the stony bottom. To his left he heard sobbing. Heart wrenching sobbing, a sound he had heard far too often in his life. Pain wracked as he was he forced his eyes open and looked toward the sound. It was a woman, hard to tell with the armor and red hood covering the head but the voice was female. Laying next to her was a sword, discarded when she fell to crying.
"No, Martin, how could you!" she sobbed. "You promised, Martin."
A door creaked and thumped open a head of him releasing booted footsteps the crashed closer.
"By the Nine! Quickly shut the door!" a man gasped and then ordered. It was the sound of a man who knew how to lead.
A few pairs of footsteps padded over to him and he felt himself being flipped over onto his back. "Gently men, we don't know how badly this man is hurt." he voice came from...an elf?
The elf wore red robes that fit nicely with his golden skin. Three armored men were with him, though the armor was nothing like he had seen before. This elf was surprisingly tall compared to the men in armor. The elf turned to look at the woman on her knees and gave a sharp intake of breath.
"Atia!" he cried and rushed out of Alistair's vision. "Atia please, the men-"
"Blast you Ocato I don't care what the men think!" the woman growled, tear choked and angry. "Martin is gone! We have no Emperor! It was for nothing!"
"Where is Martin?"
There was silence and Alistair flopped his head over to see Atia pointing up...at the dragon statue that loomed over him. His brow knit in confusion. How can a man become a statue? Why was the statue a dragon? Were dragons revered as gods here? Was this Tevinter?
"He turned into Akatosh?" Ocato asked in wonderment.
Atia nodded and for the first time since he came to be in this place she noticed him. She glared at him and then her brow relaxed into soft sympathy and she slowly got to her feet. Her armor was ebony etched in gold gilding dark against drab gray. She came over and knelt next to him, studying him. There were no visible wounds but she knew wounds were not only on the inside.
"We need to get this man out of here." she replied but where would they take him? He wasn't here a moment ago when... "We need to get him to the Arcane University, the Mages Guild owes me."
She dug a tiny vial out of a pouch tied to her sword belt and tipped the contents into his mouth. He felt the liquid slide down his throat and then darkness consumed him.
Rabbit was licking him to wake him up and Alistair hated that. He tried to push the hound away and was met by small hands and shushing. Rabbit was a dream and the tongue turned to a soft, wet cloth that slid over his bare arms. He tried to open his eyes but his lids were too heavy. He groaned in protest and sighed in surrender.
"It's alright, hatchling." a raspy voice cooed and he could swear it sounded female. "You are safe, relax."
Hatchling?
Alistair forced his eyes open and he looked towards the sound of the voice. Shrouded by candlelight was a creature that looked like a lizard and person had mad love and birthed a child. He screamed, a high pitch scream that would rival any maid. The Lizard woman jumped out of her chair and dashed out of the room, her robe fluttering behind her.
He continued screaming in shock until the door opened again and a white haired man, in blue robes and a smiling face, came in. He came over to the bed and stared down at the Warden until he stopped screaming.
"What was that?" Alistair gasped as he tried to catch his breath.
"That was Tar-Meena, one of my best archivists in Tamriel." the man chuckled. "As for what she is: she is an Argonian. A race of Mer that make their home in Black Marsh, to the southeast of this Province."
Alistair watched the man with a wary eye. "Who are you?"
"My name, dear boy, is Hannibal Traven, and I am Arch-Mage of the Cyrodiil Mage's Guild" the man smiled and sat in the chair that Tar-Meena had vacated with his screaming and flailing. "and you are in the mage's quarters of the Arcane University in the Imperial City."
Alistair's brow furrowed in confusion and held up his hands in surrender. "The what in the where? Is this in Tevinter? Are you from the Circle? Look, I know I'm supposed to be dead but please don't cut me open."
Hannibal tried to placate the boy and lowered his hands with a tsk. "I have no idea where this Tevinter is or who the Circle is supposed to be but no one will be cutting you open. Do you remember what happened to you before you came to be here?"
Alistair lowered his gaze. "I-I killed the Archdemon and it felt like his soul was ripping me to shreds through my armor. Then I heard screaming and when I opened my eyes was in this world and a woman...Atia? She was crying and calling someone's name."
Traven nodded at the last bit. "Young man you were found in the Temple of Akatosh under a statue of what used to be a man who should have been Emperor. Martin Septim gave his life to save our world just as you gave your life to save yours. But what is your name? I am sure you will tire of me calling you "young man" in a short while."
"My name is Alistair." he answered.
"Well, Alistair." Traven continued, "You are welcome at the University and you may explore the campus as you wish. Chancellor Ocato will be happy to hear that you are awake. Are you hungry?"
Alistair almost refused but his stomach had a different idea. "Um... yes, thank you. For everything."
Traven stood to leave. "I'll have one of the apprentices bring you something."
The older man gave him another smile and made it to the door before Alistair had the nerve to speak.
"Uh- Arch-Mage Traven?" he bit his lip and pressed on with his question. " Is Atia here? At the University? I-I wanted to thank her."
Traven nodded. "I do believe she is in the city, somewhere, if she is not on the campus grounds. I shall send her to you."
"Only if it's not a bother. I'm sure she's busy doing something important."
"It's no trouble at all." Traven soothed. He shut the door behind him leaving Alistair to study the room he was now in.
The bed was wooden, heavy oak foot and headboard with durable linens and a thick blanket. They were inside someplace well built with precisely cut stones. The floor was smooth stone with finely woven rugs and furs scattered about like islands in a grey sea. Tapestries in red and green hung from the wall, absorbing some of the warm glow from the tall candelabras that sat in the corners of the room and the small trio on a dresser near the door.
If he had walked passed it with an open doorway it would have been ordinary in Ferelden but laying this bed it was foreign and slightly sinister. There was not a comforting thing about it. Even the books looked foreign to him. Slowly he reached out to the nearest volume and tried to read the cover but the language was nothing he had seen. It was like looking at a page of Orlesian love poetry for the first time. He put the book back and sighed he body back into the downy pillow that held his head.
Nothing was making sense. Where was Wynne when you needed her? Traven told him that he had appeared when their Emperor-to-be died. He should have been king in Ferelden. Was that coincidence or did the Maker want to mess with his head? He and Martin both sacrificed their lives for those that they would have ruled. Save for his friend sold him out to marry a pretty queen. Alistair felt his face close in with betrayal. The man who he called brother talked him up into being King and then smashed him against the walls of Denerim.
"Maker take you!" he shouted and hit the mattress with a forceful thump that was softened by a horsehair and pillow filled mattress. A soft knock sounded on the door and Alistair slunk back into his pillow. "Come in."
The door opened and a young girl in a green robe much like Traven's poked her head into the room. "Sir? I've brought you some soup and sweetrolls from the kitchen." she replied softly.
"Oh. Uh, thank you." he looked around to see if there was anyplace she could put down his food that he reach easily.
The girl came in with a tray carrying a bowl, a plate and a goblet. The smells of fresh bread and herbs made his stomach roar with hunger. She kept her eyes lowered and moved placed the tray down on a desk a few feet away. It was too far for him to reach and she noticed this. Alistair watched her make room on a table next to the bed and placed the tray to its final resting place.
"Smells delicious." he replied and picked up one of the three fresh rolls on the plate. The sweet, buttery taste of the rolls made him moan in pleasure.
"Sir?" the girl called his attention away from the food. "May I ask you something?"
"Shuwe." he replied around a hunk of a roll.
"We're you really in the Temple of the One with the Champion of Cyrodiil? Is she as amazing as the other apprentices say?"
Alistair swallowed his bite and thought for the moment. "The Champion of Cyrodiil? Whose that?"
The girl looked aghast. " "Whose that?" She's the slayer of Mankar Camaron! Trusted of the Septim line! She single-handedly closed the Great Gate at Bruma!"
"Did she wear a red hood and black armor?" he guessed.
The girl's look changed to pure exuberance. "Yes!"
"Then, yes, I was but I was barely breathing." he studied the girl's face for a moment.
"By the Nine!" the girl chirped. "I've got to tell the others! Thanks!"
The girl sped out of the room just like Tar-Meena had, leaving him alone to his glorious food.
Atia was burrowed deep in her bottle of wine when Tar-Meena fished her out of the Bloated Float. The owner had gotten a message to her on how she tried to get him to set sail with her so that she could drown herself in wine and then throw herself off the boat to drown herself in the bay. She was taking the death of the last Septim very hard. Her loyalty to the last of the Septim line was strong and that had some of the population wondering about how close she was to the priest-prince.
Her table at the tavern had half a dozen wine bottles line up in front of her and a plate of mutton was half eaten amongst them. The Altmer who ran the place was pleasant enough to the young Imperial since she saved him from the Blackwater Brigands a couple of months ago. He was wringing his hands behind the bar and looked at the Argonian with pleading brown eyes.
"I didn't know what to do." he replied quickly. "I can't kick her out but she'll try and do something like steal the ship if I let her sleep here."
"Say no more." she replied and walked over to the Imperial. "Enjoying yourself?"
"Eat me scaly." Atia sneered. "You can tell Traven I'm not helping him so he can go do his own dirty work."
If she had an eyebrow Tar-Meena would have raised one of them or maybe both of them. Instead she crossed her arms over her chest and tapped her foot impatiently on the decking. Atia was not known for insulting people unless it was to insult them with a parry and thrust.
"Traven didn't send me here to make you do anything except to see the young man that you saved at the Temple."
Atia snorted and glared up at her. "I don't want to see him. He shouldn't be here." she drunkenly slammed his fist into the table causing her row of bottles to shake with small clings.
"Well he's here and he asked about you so we are going to sober you up and after you sleep in someplace other then the Bloated Float you are going to see him and you are going to like it." the Argonian grabbed Atia's upper arm and hauled the drunk woman to her feet.
The weight of her armor and her compromised state of mind Atia knew she really didn't want to fight. She groaned at the feeling of being completely upright. Her hands grabbed a hold of the mage's robe in a death grip. Going to the Arcane University meant going through the Temple District and she couldn't handle being near Martin's tomb just yet if ever.
"Please Tar-Meena," she pouted giving her eyes a doey look that could tug at peoples' heart strings. "Don't make me go by the Temple. He's there."
Tar-Meena's stern look melted at the mention of the Temple. She patted the girl's hand and nodded sympathetically. "Of course, we don't have to enter the gates. There is an outer route from here to the University we can go that way.
"Thank you," Atia sighed and leaned against her as they made their way out of the tavern and into the dark Waterfront.