ACT 1: Chapter 1

- The Beginning -

Inspired by Markmak's 'Skyrim Falls' artworks in deviantart. I recently picked up Skyrim again, and I just finished watching both seasons of Gravity Falls. I've always wanted to try writing stories for both of them, so I thought, eh, why the hell not.

Anyways, on with the story!

Perched above a cliff on the far northern side of Skyrim, the College of Winterhold was a sight to behold, a majestic albeit scarred castle that housed those who chose to walk the path of sorcery and study the wonders of magic. Such was the impression to those who travelled far corners of the Nordic province of Tamriel to set their eyes on the famed College, and travellers were growing far and few between. The blizzards grew heavier this time of year, while bandits and other things foul prowled the roads, further dissuading its denizens from leaving the comforts and safety of their homes, such as they were.

At least, that's what he understood from his many books that filled up his half of their living quarters, stacked haphazardly in messy piles across his expansive bookshelf. Charts, open scrolls and other various diagrams of the arcane were nailed to the wall, with little use of magic to hold them in place.

With a small yawn the young Breton stretched, wincing slightly as he gingerly stood up, his rear flaring after sitting down for many hours. Dawn was still hours away, though further sleep seemed to elude him, courtesy of growing excitement for the day ahead, for today marked the Pines twins' nineteenth birthday, the stage of life that bestowed youths of Skyrim lawful recognition of adulthood. And that came with certain perks the twins decided to make the most of.

Closing the book he set it back in its place on the bookshelf, fondly recalling the many years he has spent in the company of his vast collection, the many nights of comfortable studies. Though it was impractical to bring them all with him on their pilgrimage, they were nonetheless his prized possession. Still, as long as he entrusted their safekeeping to the right person, he had little to worry about, though the same could not be said for his sister's. Herbs and other peculiar 'organic' alchemical ingredients had much shorter shelf life than books, after all.

Said sister mumbled incoherently in her sleep, muffled under her fur blanket dyed with strange hues of pink and purple swirls, similar to the pattern of her robe hung on the wall next to her bed. Her oddities extended beyond her choice of garment design; in place of shelves filled with tomes – as students of wizardry were wont to do – several cupboards occupied much of her half of their quarters, one filled with various alchemical ingredients and reagents, another with bottles and vials of varying sizes and shapes, some filled and others empty. Despite its close ties to magic, alchemy in general was, more often than not, left out from various college curriculum. As such, she was one of the few who studied alchemy within the college, and much of what she knew, she learned from books and occasional visiting alchemists from different corners of Tamriel.

Still, lack of formalised training certainly bore their marks in the form of scorch marks on the stone walls and strange array of scents that found permanent residence within their section in the Hall of Attainment. Suffice to say, there were many memories tied to their shared room of years since childhood, both good and bad.

Hours later Mabel stirred awake at last, slowly wiping the last vestiges of sleep from her eyes. "Morning, Mabel."

"Morning, Dip," Mabel yawned. "Been burning midnight oil again?"

Dipper shook his head. "Nah, just couldn't sleep. That reminds me, happy nineteenth."

The young Breton's lips curled into a wide grin. "Happy nineteenth, broseph. Awkward sibling hug?"

Dipper laughed. "Awkward sibling hug."

The Pines twins embraced one another, ending their long-held familial shows of affection with synchronised "pat, pat."

"So, what's the plan? Do we leave as soon as we tell the Arch-Mage, or do you want to wait around for some cake, first?" Dipper asked, fully aware of his sister's notorious sweet tooth.

"Like you need to ask, Dippin' sauce! No adventure starts without a good cake or few!" With the declaration she threw on her robes, just as he donned his. It was a standard attire given to apprentices, imbued with traces of magic that grew fainter over the years.

The Pines twins headed for the Dining Hall, located several floors above the Hall of Elements, connected by spiralling stairwell. It was still a little early in the morning, as only a few seats out of many were occupied. They chose to settle in their usual spot, a table sequestered in the corner, close to the door that led to the kitchen.

"Well, look who's up early!" The twins looked up to see their favourite chef, Lazy Susan, hovering near the table. "My favourite twins! Happy birthday, dears!"

"Aww, thanks Sue!" Mabel said as she invited the older woman for a hug.

"Thanks, Susan," Dipper said.

"You're welcome, dears." The lazy-eyed chef sniffed. "Seems like only yesterday I was baking cakes for your tenth birthday. You children grow up so fast, I swear."

"Speaking of which, any chance you could-" Mabel trailed off with a hopeful look.

The chef laughed. "Of course, dear! I left it sitting in the oven, should be done in a jiffy! But no sweets before breakfast!"

Mabel groaned good-naturedly. "Yes, ma'am."

Lazy Susan headed back into the kitchen, while the twins waited for their breakfast. Though it was possible to convert base ingredients into desired dishes, Lazy Susan was the kind of woman who preferred non-magical means of cooking. Homemade dishes, she once told the twins, could not be replicated by any magic. Many, the twins included, wholeheartedly agreed with her once they had a taste of her non-magical cooking.

"This seat taken?" Onmund, another fellow apprentice mage, asked as he sat down across the twins.

"Morning," Dipper and Mabel greeted in unison, earning a chuckle from the young Nord.

"Thought I'd see you two here. Good thing I checked, otherwise I could've missed seeing you two off. Oh, and here," the Nordic mage dug into his satchel, and took out two bundles wrapped in cloth.

"Oh, how did you-" Mabel unwrapped her bundle, revealing several balls of yarn in various colours, and a sewing kit. "Where did you get these?"

Dipper's present was a book in leather bindings. The cover was too faded to make out the title, but the pages within were still in superb condition, and his eyes widened in surprise as he recognition set in. "Whoa, this is-"

"You once told me you liked knitting," Onmund sheepishly pointed out. "And I remembered how you wanted to get your hands on books about enchantment for some time, so…"

"Oh my gosh, thank you SO MUCH!" Mabel reached over the table and wrapped her arms around the surprised Nord.

"That's really thoughtful of you, Onmund. Thanks."

"Glad you liked 'em." Lazy Susan brought over their breakfasts then, and the trio dug in. More mages trickled into the Dining Hall, and their table was joined by their friends, some with gifts and others without, but all of them wished the twins happy birthdays. When Lazy Susan was finally done with her cake, the twins invited her to join them as they cut it into small slices, inviting the rest to help themselves to the treat.

The bell tolled, signalling the start of the morning lectures. The group of friends dispersed, each heading off to their respective classes, though not without bidding them good fortune for their pilgrimage.

"Remember to wear this on your neck at all times," J'zargo purred as he pointed at the pendants that now hung around the twins' necks. "J'zargo's friends travel around as trading caravans. They see your necklaces, they'll know you're J'zargo's friends. They'll give you a good rate, if you fancy some rare baubles and trinkets."

"You rock, J!" Mabel smiled, a gesture returned by the only Khajiit mage of the College.

"Before you go, J'zargo wonders if you'd like to trade one of those cotton balls with one of J'zargo's scrolls…"

Dipper shook his head, but quietly watched as his twin bartered with the sly Khajiit. He surreptitiously prodded the amulet, a minute sigh escaping his lips when nothing happened. Given his mischievous tendencies, Dipper didn't think the Khajiit wasn't above a little prank as a parting gift, which was probably why he got on so well with his sister.

"Some things never change, hmm?" Brelyna commented from the side.

"You got that right," Dipper said.

The Dunmer mystic nodded. "So, pilgrimage, huh? Looking forward to it?"

Dipper smiled. "We've been waiting for this day for months, so yeah."

Brelyna chuckled. "Ah, to be young again. It's been a long time since I felt any real excitement. Oh, don't give me that look, you know we elves have longer life span than you humans."

"It's the voice. You can't blame people for not taking your age seriously when you sound like that," Dipper shrugged. The bell chimed again, prompting them to rise to their feet.

"Guess that's our cue." Dipper stood up just as Brelyna stuck out her hand. "Huh?"

"For luck," the Dunmer said. The young Breton took it with a firm grip. "Good luck out there, Dipper."

"Thanks, Brelyna." The Dunmer took her leave, as did the Khajiit. With a final wave Dipper looked around to see Mabel with Onmund. Remembering the history between the two, Dipper wordlessly motioned to his sister that he would wait for her outside. She flashed him a grateful smile, before addressing the nervous Nordic mage.

"What is it, Onmund?"

"Mabel, I just, I know that things didn't really work out for us back then-"

"Onmund-"

"Hold on, let me finish, okay?" Mabel nodded, and allowed him to continue. "What I wanted to say was, that even though we may not go back to how we were, you'll always be important to me. So can you promise me that you'll take care?"

"I will, don't worry about me," Mabel replied softly. "And thank you, Onmund."

"Safe travels." With that the Nord left. Mabel waited until she could no longer hear his footsteps, before leaving the hall through the same way.

"All done?" Dipper asked gently. He was aware of her relationship with the kind Nord, and how it ended. He never delved too deep into the matter, respecting Mabel's need for privacy.

Said twin nodded. "Yep, just smoothing things over." Nothing more was said as the twins headed back into their rooms to sort through the gifts, picking out the ones they wanted to take along on their pilgrimage, leaving the rest behind. After that, it was a simple matter of making their towards the Arch-Mage's quarters. The door opened just as they attempted to knock, almost as if they were expected.

"Ah, Dipper, Mabel, come in, come in." Savos looked up as the twins entered, setting down his quill.

"Headmaster Savvy!" Mabel greeted with enthusiasm, decorum be damned. Dipper rolled his eyes, all too used to Mabel's eccentricity. "Morning!"

So too did the Arch-Mage, as he simply grinned in response. "Yes, good morning to you too. Please, sit. Tea?"

Dipper politely declined. "With all due respect, Arch-Mage, I believe you know why we are here."

The aged Dunmer sighed, noticing the satchels the twins carried. They also had their heavy fur cloaks on, the kind of apparel mages wore only when they had to brave the bitter chills of Skyrim. "Yes, I'm aware. Personally, I'd feel much more at ease if you postponed your pilgrimage until you have furthered your training, but as it stands, from this day onward, the two of you are, by law, adults, and I have to respect that."

"We've been studying and training for this day, headmaster. Trust us; we're ready."

"Yeah, what he said!" Mabel piped in.

"Perhaps," Savos said as he returned to the parchment he was working on moments prior, placing it inside an envelope and sealed it, before he slid it towards the twins. As Dipper took it, Savos took out a scroll and unfurled it, revealing a map of Skyrim.

"For your safety, it would be suitable if you were to begin your journey from the Guardian Stones," The Arch-Mage pointed at the small mark near the southern section of the icy province, "and receive the Mage Stone's blessing. Rather fitting to mark the beginning of a mage's pilgrimage, don't you think?"

"Wow, that's so far away from here!" Mabel exclaimed as she pointed at the dot on the map practically on the other end of the map. "But how will we get there?"

"Why, teleportation magic of course. Given how the Standing Stones are saturated with magicka, it isn't difficult to establish a link to here in the College," Savos answered. "That being said, it would be in our best interest to keep that information strictly confidential."

The Pines twins nodded. "And the letter?"

"For an acquaintance of mine who goes by the name of Farengar Secret-Fire. He was once a scholar in the College many years ago, but left some time before you two settled in. Now, he serves as a Jarl's court wizard in Whiterun," Savos said. "Give him the letter, and he is sure to help you with your pilgrimage. Just a word of warning, he can be somewhat… odd, to put it kindly."

Dipper snorted as he gestured at Mabel. "I've shared a room with her for years already, can't be anything I haven't seen or heard already." He winced a little when she viciously poked him in the ribs. "Ow!"

"So, when can we leave?" Mabel cheerfully asked.

"The conduits have already been set up, you can leave right now if you wish to do so." Savos rose from his seat, folded the map and handed it to Mabel. "And here, you'll need it more than I."

The Dunmer Arch-Mage reached for his staff, and pointed at the stone glyph circle near the entrance. "Take your places on the rune, if you will."

The Breton twins obeyed, and as they did the circle began to glow in faint hues of blue, humming with energy. "Close your eyes, children, and remember, good luck."

There was a flash of light, accompanied by an odd sensation of weightlessness, before everything faded to white.

For one Wendy Corduroy, there was an overwhelming surge of white, before her eyes adjusted back to her normal vision. The Helgen Keep was scarcely lit, and the subsequent parts of the cave even less so. All the same, it felt refreshing to smell the Skyrim air again, in all its frigid, harsh glory.

"Wait, get down!" Her companion hissed in warning, and the redhead immediately threw herself into the nearest shrubbery, mere moments before the dragon's terrifying roar echoed above them, before flying off into the distance.

"Looks like it's gone for the time being. I'd rather not stick around, though. If that dragon ever happens to circle back, it'd be best to be far away from here," Hadvar commented.

"Works for me," Wendy agreed. To be unintentionally saved from her unjustly head-lopping by a dragon, only to wind up dead at the hands (or claws, or the equivalent of it in dragon standards) of the same dragon, the irony was hard to miss.

Hadvar nodded. "There's a small town not far from here, called Riverwood. My uncle, Alvor, lives there, and he'll more than welcome us."

"They got a tavern there?" Wendy asked.

"There is one, called Sleeping Giant Inn," Hadvar said with a shrug. "I've seen inns that serve much better ale, but it's refreshing enough, if you'd like to try a pint."

"After the hell we just went through, I'll need more than a pint," the redhead groaned, shuddering as she recalled the thrice-damned spiders that were too damn large and too damn aggressive. "Yeah, definitely more than a pint."

"In any case, I couldn't help but notice how you handled yourself back there," the Nord jerked his head at the war axe strapped to her hips in leather straps. Its blade was still wet with the blood of the Stormcloaks that tried to prevent their passage. "Are you a soldier, by any chance?"

"Wha- me? Ha!" Wendy snorted. "Naw, but reckon my pa was, back in the day. He was the one who taught me how to swing an axe, and not just to cut trees down."

Hadvar regarded her with an evaluative look. "All the same, I have to say that was rather impressive. The Empire could certainly use people like you, more than ever, times being what they are." Wendy shot him an incredulous look, and he raised his hands. "Yes, I know we made a mistake and that nearly costed you your life, but I assure you, not all who fights for the Empire would've done what that woman did."

Wendy frowned, but grudgingly agreed. He, at least, seemed genuinely apologetic when the bitch tried to get her executed along with the rest of the Stormcloaks, despite Wendy protesting how she wasn't with them, could Imperial not tell how she wasn't wearing their signature armour, and whose backside she had to suck up to get promoted as a captain. Naturally, the Imperial woman wasn't amused with the diatribe. Not that it mattered in the end, as Wendy last saw her roasted alive in dragon fire.

"Yeah, nah. I don't care much for all this civil war crap. No offence."

"It's your choice," Hadvar said simply. "Still, the offer stands."

The two began walking downhill in silence, Hadvar in front. It was an odd sight; there was a town engulfed in fire and reduced to rubble by a creature of legends on the other side of the hill, a stark contrast to the peaceful wilderness that surrounded them, almost as if nothing catastrophic ever happened. Hell, even she still couldn't fully believe it; so much has happened so fast.

And to think that it all started when the lure of wanderlust grew too strong for her to resist. Then again, she was a Corduroy, and adventure was often part of their identity. Her father and brothers stayed true to their blood, and she'd be damned if she didn't do the same.

As the road winded around the corner overlooking a cliffside, a thin column of light beamed down from the sky, landing not far from where they stood. Curiosity getting the better of her, she decided to investigate, vaguely noting Hadvar following her lead. The path led to a small clearing at the end, marked by three menhir-shaped stones erected on rocky foundation. Huddling near one of the rocks, her eyes landed on two figures in robes, hoods covering their faces. The stone lit up, and its light enveloped the two individuals, before it faded.

"Uh, 'scuse me?" Wendy carefully approached them, unsure how to address the folks in strange garments.

The two robed individuals drew their hoods back, and Wendy was a little surprised to see how identical they looked. 'Twins,' she thought. And rather young, too, definitely younger than her, given their unblemished, smooth skin.

"Of course, the Guardian Stones," Hadvar commented as he stepped into view. "I've seen many people passing through Riverwood to see these Stones with their own eyes. Judging by how you're dressed, I take it you're both mages?"

The twins looked at each other in silence, communicating wordlessly with small nods and knowing looks. "We are, good sir," the male twin replied politely. "May I enquire as to whom we're addressing?"

"My name is Hadvar, soldier of the Legion," the Nord started.

"Um, Gwendolyn, but you can call me Wendy," the redhead said. "Oh, and I'm not like this guy, so…"

"Hadvar, hmm?" the female spoke up for the first time, her tone coy and a tad playful. "That's quite a… masculine name, and you're a soldier, too." The girl hummed, grinning.

Hadvar scratched his cheeks, embarrassed. "Uh, not at all, ma'am."

Mabel waved him off. "I'm a lady, mister, and a young one, too!"

"Ah, my apologies then, miss…?"

"Oh, where are my manners? I'm Mabel, but you can call me whatever you want, handsome!" She finished with a wink, giggling when the Nord looked away, a tad embarrassed.

"Mabel…" Her twin groaned in exasperation.

"Oops, my bad! This is Dipper, but you can call him 'Dippin' sauce'!"

Dipper shook his head. "That's not what I meant, sis." Looking at the Nord, Dipper tried to reassure him, "sorry about Mabel – she just likes teasing people. She doesn't mean anything bad by it, though."

"I-I see." Hadvar cleared his throat. "In any case, there's a town called Riverwood not far from here. Night will fall soon, so would you two like to accompany us?"

"Sure thing! Lead the way, sir!" Mabel answered for both of them, and fell in step next to Hadvar as they tread the path following the river. Dipper shook his head, a gesture that saw frequent use when in the company of his sister, but didn't object. They spent a considerable time traversing the otherworldly planes, guided by the link of transportation magic. He could certainly do with some good food and someplace quiet to read and relax.

Wendy cleared her throat. "So, uh, Dipper, was it?"

"Oh, uh, yes?" Dipper stammered. "Wendy, right?"

The redhead smiled. "Yep, nice and short. Easy to remember."

"True, though 'Gwendolyn' carries an air of nobility to it," Dipper said. "You're not, well, a highborn, are you?"

Wendy snorted. "Would a prissy noble be dressed like this?" She emphasised as she pointed at the leather hauberk that has clearly seen better days. His eyes traced over the still slightly damp blood marks, widening slightly as he saw the bloodied axe she strapped to her hips. She noticed that he noticed, and hastily explained, "bit of a long story. To start things off, did you happen to see a dragon flying overhead?"

"So that was a dragon?" Dipper muttered in wonder. "I've always thought they were simple legends…"

"I knew it! Told 'ya so, bro-bro!" Mabel yelled over her shoulder.

"Yeah, so did I. But I was there, saw the damn lizard up close, too, back in Helgen. Doubt there's much left standing now, after what the dragon did to it. Anyways, we managed to find an escape route, but we weren't the only ones there. A group of Stormcloaks saw me with him," she jerked her thumb at the Nord clad in Legion's outfit, "and thought I was one of 'em, too. And you know how we Nords are; mace to the face first, ask questions never."

"Ah," Dipper nodded along, unsure how to respond to that. It wasn't hard to put the two and two together. "So you fought your way out, then."

"Yeah, they weren't in a mood to talk, and we were kinda in a hurry, 'cause, y'know, dragon and all," Wendy finished with a huff. "And then there was the bit with the bear and them thrice-damned ginormous spiders-"

Dipper gulped. "S-spiders? The Frostbite species?"

Wendy shivered again. "I don't care much for what they're called, so long as I never see 'em again."

"Let's hope so," the young Breton said. He's only seen the spiders as sketches of ink on parchment, and only read of their characteristics. Much anecdotes surrounding these eight-legged nightmares often contained similarities; they were big, they were angry, and half the times the authors, or their companions, sometimes both, never lived to finish writing.

"Anyway, your sister's a riot, I'll tell you that," Wendy said with a light nudge of her elbow.

"She can be a bit… well, forward, especially around good-looking men," Dipper sighed, though she could see affection in his eyes. "Been a habit of hers ever since we were kids. But yeah, like I said, she doesn't mean to harm anyone, most of the time anyway."

"Relax, man. I wasn't gonna badmouth her or whatever," Wendy laughed.

Mabel snuck a glance behind her shoulder, a small smile gracing her lips as her brother made fast friends with the redheaded stranger. Though she never outwardly showed it, her brother's introverted nature made it difficult for him to reach out to others. It took many years of reassurances and encouragement until he broke out of his shell, and even then there were times when he reverted to his old self. It helped that this red-haired woman was a friendly type, someone who made friends easily, like herself.

Speaking of new friends, she turned her attention back to the Nord beside her. "So, did you grow up in this town, Riverwood?"

"I was born elsewhere, but yes, I've often visited my uncle when I was a child. I helped him around the forge, and in turn he taught me the basics of smithing," Hadvar recounted his childhood with a fond smile.

"That sounds nice. Reminds me of our uncle, to be honest."

"Was he a mage, too?" Hadvar asked.

"Yep, he's actually one of the scholars there! He's away on some expedition, though. But he's a powerful wizard, so we know he can take care of himself. Our other grunkle, I mean, uncle, on the other hand-"

Mabel stopped midway when the shrubs on the side of the path rustled. There was a sharp twang, and before Hadvar could draw his sword an arrow pierced him on the chest.

A/N: I think I said it before in my other story, but regardless of whether I did or not I'll still say it; I hate, hate, hate spiders. The first time I played Skyrim, I almost quit because of that one god-diddly-dang cave bit where these ginormous spiders just frickin' drop down the ceiling like they're some kinda angels descending down to spread the will of Jesus Christ. I mean, Jesus Christ, why are those spiders so goddamn big?

Oh yeah, before I forget, Bretons FTW!