Hot and cold: the story of two heroines
The tavern in Raven Rock was stamped as it usually was at this time of the day. It was about 8 pm and all the miners were of work for the day and were enjoying their free time with a drink. Valga loved the liveliness of everything. One of the miner's wives was playing a cheerful little tune on her lute. Some of the men were singing along, others had already had too much to drink and were barely able to sit up straight. Laughter, talking and noise was everywhere. It might seem like chaos but Valga felt the peacefulness of it all even if she was just a spectator. On any other day she would have joined in the fun, but she had just returned from her trip to Thirsk and wanted to take things easy tonight. She was sitting alone at the bar, enjoying one of the flasks of mead she had brought from Thirsk. In fact this was her third flask so she wasn't seeing all to clearly either. It took a while for her to notice the newcomer sitting down next to her. Newcomers weren't all that uncommon in Raven Rock. Every month, a handful of Dunmer, Nords and imperials came to the colony to find their fortune. Not everyone was allowed to stay since Falco kept a close eye on everyone who checked in as required. Others left after a few months if they weren't able to get work. But the few people that stayed did their best to earn their share and the little town was flourishing at the moment.
The newcomer at the bar was a male Dunmer in his late twenties. He had long, pitch black hair, held back in a ponytail and he was wearing a common fur robe. His face was covered in battle scars, but since he was a Dunmer that wasn't all that peculiar. He was about to order something when Valga spoke to him. "You should try the mead." she said. "It'll warm you up after being outside in the snow."
The Dunmer smiled back at the Nord. "Thanks I'll try some." He said and he drew the barkeep 's attention to make his order.
He got his drink and there was a slightly awkward silence between the two of them. Eventually Valga started speaking again.
"What are you doing here, Drakon?" she asked.
"You must have me confused with someone else." He said. "My name is Drathas Andrano. Maybe you've heard of me? I used to fight in the arena in Vivec"
"Is that so?" Valga said skeptically, "Oh, you're probably right. Drakon had a tattoo on the side of his face. I haven't heard of you though. Strange 'cause I've been in Vivec quite often."
"Well I wasn't that famous." He said, after taking a gulp of mead. "Lost most of the time, almost died in the last match. That's why I quit."
"So what are you doing all the way out here?" Valga asked. The conversation was a play from beginning to end. He lied through his teeth about his life and she lied about believing anything he said. They knew they were lying, but they had to keep up appearances, not take any risks or all hell would break loose. It took less than an hour before they both had too much to drink.
"I don't hate you-you know?" Valga said.
"No. You jusht killed me." The dark elf retorted.
"It'sh urownfault for being too over condifent."
"Yeh well…fuck you anyway, shtupid Nord…" he fell face down on the bar. "Thish town ish also lame." He murmured. " 's way too fucking cold."
"You're just not used to it because of your lava."
"You're lava!"
Valga blinked while she tried to get the insult. She failed, laughed and then started trying to get her drinking buddy on his feet. "Come on." she said. "You can sleep at my place. I've got a hammock you can use." She helped him stand up with one arm over her shoulders. He wasn't very heavy, but then again she was quite strong.
"Thanksh." He said softly. His breath smelled like honey and alcohol.
The bar was already almost empty and no-one really paid any attention to the two leaving. It was a short walk from the tavern to the house at the edge of town. Inside she laid the dark elf down on the hammock and put some logs in the fireplace to get a fire going. When the flames were nice and warm she kept on staring into them for a while. "Stupid fire." She said. "you think you're so great cus you can burn stuff. Well I'm not scared of you!" she raised her voice a little. "Not scared at all…"she sighed. What did she care anyway? She let him live and that was the end. The fucking end.
"Why are you talking to the fireplace?" The Dunmer 's deep voice asked behind her.
"Because I'm drunk." she answered."Drunk and confused about why you came here." she turned around to face him. "Why have you come here, Drakon?" she demanded.
The Dunmer slowly walked towards her. "Because I wanted to see you." He said.
Somewhere in the back of her head a little voice told Valga this wouldn't end well and she had to stop it before it started. "Liar." She said, trying not to look into his deep red eyes that concealed such secrets, such terrible knowledge and experience.
"I'm not lying." He said. His body kept moving towards her. He was only slightly taller than her. "I don't hate you either." He whispered. The warmth of his voice made her heart melt as if it was made of ice. His face was now a few inches away from hers.
Stupid fire. She thought. You think you're so hot, but his heat is like lava. It can consume both you and me and everyone.
It confused het why he had decided to stay. She didn't really believe his feelings for her to be that serious and whenever she asked him, he would say something vague, like: "It just felt like the right thing to do." She didn't know what he meant by that. The right thing to do. She didn't even know what that was. And she was a hero. Or something like that. On Vvardenfell everyone had told her that she was. But after everything that had happened she just felt empty. That feeling had lingered since she defeated Drakon and destroyed Dagoth Ur. And it had gotten worse after the betrayal of Almalexia. She thought she could find some rest on Solstheim, but even here, where she was accepted by her own people, she had to play a hero. People looked up to her and worshipped her and knew she would always do the right thing. Maybe that was just it. Drakon saw her for what she really was and didn't pretend otherwise. It was a simple comfort, maybe. But it drove the cold away at night. For a fraction of a second one morning, she thought it wouldn't last forever, but then she thought she'd better enjoy it while it lasted – whatever 'it' might be – and not worry too much about the future.
Unfortunately for Valga, the future sometimes has a way of barging through the front door and smacking you in the face. About six weeks – or maybe two months, she had lost track of time – After Drakon moved in with her, Valga noticed she had skipped a period and not long after that the sickness started. The conclusion she came to made her even more confused than she already was. What would she tell Drakon? If she was even going to tell him. If he really was planning on staying, she had better tell him he was going to be a father.
Would a guy like him even be a good father? She thought to herself one day when she saw him returning from his daily hunting trip. He noticed her standing near the entrance of her house and he waved at her. She waved back and smiled at him. During this simple gesture she hated herself. She hated herself for not being able to muster the courage to tell him something this basic. So this is the mighty hero of Vvardenfell, the Nerevarine. She thought. I can't believe this is what has become of me. A weak willed woman who can't tell the simple truth to her lover. I faced down all-powerful gods and yet I cannot tell a guy I'm pregnant.
He walked closer and closer towards her and the space between them was a heavy emptiness, waiting to be filled with those three words. And the longer she waited to tell him, she realized, the more he was slipping away. It weighed down on her more than the responsibilities she once had as the Nerevarine.
He was just a few meters away from her now. She looked him in the eyes, took a deep breath and opened her mouth. But no sound came out of it. The sight of him scared her now as if he was the symbol of everything that would come to pass in the future. Terrible things, that she had seen in her nightmares. And she could not be there. She would not be there to witness, let alone stop it. She breathed heavily and fell to her knees. As soon as Drakon saw the look in her eyes he rushed towards her. He kneeled down beside her and tried to help her stay on her feet, but she pushed him away. Shocked at her rejection, he took a few steps backwards. For a second there was a tension that made Valga feel helpless and Drakon confused. Then the Dark-elf took another attempt at helping the Nord-woman. "What's wrong?" he asked, kneeling beside her again. "Please, Valga. You need to tell me. I promise I won't hurt you." He softly placed his hand upon her shoulder. She was still breathing heavily, but his soothing touch seemed to calm her down a bit. She looked at him with watery eyes. All kinds of thoughts were going through her head. There were so many reasons for her not to trust this man. And yet she did for the strange reason that she could afford to show him her weakness. And he was her weakness and her support and he might become her death. But there were bigger things at stake than he and her. Things were already set in motion and she had to be there to help the world move on. Her part wasn't finished yet.
She took a deep breath and sat up straight. Finally she was able to talk again. "We need to know what comes next, Drakon." She said. "And I know someone who may be able to show us the path we both need to take." She smiled at his confused look and kissed him. "I'm pregnant." she said. And then the safe peace between the storms made her feel more happy than ever.
Three years later, near Bruma
She still did not want to hear anything of it. She was simply not one for praise and applauding. And the mood she was in right now made it even more irritating. It was just so damn inconvenient. Why would they send one dark-elf on her own into an Oblivion-gate to get a great sigil stone when there were plenty of guards who could have followed her and helped her out? What would they have done if she hadn't made it? Crawl into a corner and wait for their imminent demise? I really hate Imperials. She thought to herself. She was really just trying to fool herself into thinking they were morons. It was pretty damn clear why she was being sent to do all of the blades dirty work. She was expendable. She knew it, they knew it and the fact that she was now praised as a hero didn't help covering it up. At the moment she was resting in the snow trying to restore her wounds and cool down a little. Her Dunmer blood had protected her from most of the fire on the other side of the gate, but she was still burning up after the whole ordeal. Also her armor was falling apart. It was no surprise since it was low quality black leather, but she had usually been able to get it fixed at an armory. Now she didn't think it could be repaired anymore. It was time to get a new set.
One of the guard captains walked up to her. He was a Breton wearing the uniform with the emblem of Cheydinhal. His armor was almost as broken as hers, but he seemed less bothered by it. "Congratulations on your victory. Your reputation was well deserved it seems." he said dryly, with a hint of sarcasm. The Dunmer woman smiled at him with the same amount of sincerity. "Everything for the empire." She said. The Breton nodded slightly and then returned to his men, probably having lost his interest.
She sighed. Everything for the empire was too much, but the blades knew she was still an escaped prisoner and they might extort that fact if she refused to see this through to the end. She was secretly being blackmailed into saving the world. The rest was just one big farce.
And then there was Martin. Things were still awkward between the two of them. Their last private conversation had ended in bitter words from her end. It wasn't like she hadn't meant those words. It had just been a matter of time before he would have to hear them. And when he had stood there in his shiny golden armor, she hadn't been able to hold her feelings back any longer. At that moment, he had been just another Imperial to her, without the 'simple priest'-look.
He had seemed devastated after she had told him and later, when they met in the Bruma-chapel, he had barely looked at her. Not that she really cared. She had only said what she needed to say. If he was upset about it, it was his own fault. He did care. Maybe a bit too much or just enough for the both of them. When she had come stumbling out of the closing great gate, half-dead and panting, he had been kneeling beside a fallen blade. He had been so preoccupied with his dead comrade, that he hadn't noticed one of the remaining Dremora, sneaking up behind him. She had mustered the last bit of energy she had left and saved his life again. She had just pulled her sword out of the creature 's body when he looked up at her, his eyes filled with despair, sadness and relief that she had returned safely. Yet, she had answered to none of his feelings. She had just looked down on him and had given him the great sigil stone in silence. The dead blade, she had found out, was Jauffre. Baurus had made it, but just barely. He and Martin were now picking up the other survivors and discussing what had to be done next. They looked around at her and she quickly pretended to be preoccupied with her sword, which was in just as bad a shape as her armor. The emperor-to-be walked up to her, while holding the sigil stone under his arm. His eyes were still filled with doubt when he looked at her, but his voice sounded determined. Like he had resolved to finish it one way or another.
"We won a great victory today. I will return to Cloudruler temple to prepare the portal to paradise. Please don't take too long preparing to go there. We don't have much time before Dagon's forces regroup."
She nodded in response: "Give me twenty-four hours or so. I'll be there."
"Very well." He said and returned to the other soldiers. She saw them talking amongst themselves some more before they left the battlefield. The sense of victory amongst the soldiers, from a while ago, had disappeared and turned into exhaustion. She knew that exhaustion would disappear too as soon as they would enter a bar and boast about their heroics in battle over a mug of ale. But her trials weren't over and she had no time to rest. She looked up to the sky to discover little white flakes coming down. First a few and then more. The fresh snow would cover up the footprints of combat in the old and the bloodstains and the bodies that hadn't been taken yet. She held out her hand and let some flakes land on her palm. They melted immediately on her warm gray skin. The clean, white spots wouldn't cover her. She wasn't permitted to disappear yet. She breathed out and the condense was visible in the frosty air, then a shiver ran down her spine and she felt goose bumps on her arms.
The cold air of the Jerrall mountains was getting to her. She sheathed her sword and left the battlefield. Still alive, she thought and chuckled.
Three days later, the Imperial City
Chaos was all around. The soldiers, that were supposed to protect the citizens from harm, were really just fighting for their lives. So was Yume, though she was also still trying to protect Martin. Right now she was fighting a Clannfear, while trying to withstand magical fire attacks from a Dremora mage. The Clannfear had just injured her left arm with his claw, when the mage fired another spell. The energy around it was different from a fire spell, so she quickly jumped away, just barely evading getting hit. But this movement had brought her in closer range of the Clannfear and it attacked. She blocked the creature's claw and jumped behind him, blocking her from another one of the mage's spells, which hit the Clannfear. The Clannfear froze and started falling down slowly. Paralyzed, she thought and saw her chance. She hit the Daedra 's neck with much force. The move was partially successful: the creature had a large, but shallow cut on the back of his neck, but his magical scales reflected some of the damage done. She felt a searing pain down her neck. She felt dizzy and, for a moment, thought she would pass out. But the Clannfear wasn't dead yet and the Dremora was recharging for another spell. She forced herself to hit the Clannfear 's neck again with her sword and this time she was able to decapitate it. The Dremora fired another spell, a fire spell again this time, so she was able to withstand it. Nonetheless, she evade it and used a restoration spell on herself before charging at the mage. Quickly and clean she decapitated the Kynreeve mage, but she was immediately attacked by a Dremora warrior of a higher rank. She blocked his sword attack with her own and was pushed back a few steps. That was when she dumped against the back of Martin, who was fighting a Flame Atronach, hitting it with shock spells.
"Good to see you're still alive." He said after killing the Daedra.
Yume parried the Kynreeve's attack and was able to disarm him, before thrusting her sword in the small area between his helmet and his cuirass. "Same to you." She said and smirked, before engaging in another fight with the monsters from oblivion. Martin also fought of a pair of Dremora's charging at him. They were from a low rank, so not that hard to defeat and it didn't take long before the emperor to-be was helping Yume finishing of her opponents. When the last demon in near them drop to the ground, they suddenly realized that there weren't any more at that moment. This was when Martin looked the Dark-elf in the eye and said: "Now's our chance. Let's move to the temple!" Yume caught her breath for a second, then nodded they both started sprinting to the entrance. They where half way there when an overwhelming force threw them backwards. In a quick flash of light a red giant appeared. His skin was red and covered in ritualistic symbols. He had four arms, one of which held an axe and there were six horned on his head. Mehrunes Dagon was here.
Yume felt the overwhelming power emitted from the Daedra prince. Terrified, she was unable to move, much less stand up. So this was what is was like to be in the presence of a god. This power was something she could never defeat. She would die right there and then. That's all what went through her mind. Strangely enough, Martin was less frightened of the hundred meters tall Demon king, but he still panicked, because he felt like everything they had done up until now had been for nothing. He looked at Yume and saw her staring at Dagon, petrified. Then he realized that, even if she resented him and what he stood for, he still needed her. He darted up and sprinted towards her, quickly pushing her out of the way of the Daedra prince 's foot. He sat them down against the wall of the temple and took the Dunmer by the shoulders. He shook her, trying to release her from her trance. "Yume!" he said. "This is no time to go all catatonic on me! You promised me we would finish this!" She blinked at his words, then shook her head and looked at his robes, that where covered in dirt and blood. "They're all dirty." She said. He looked at her confused, then smiled, relieved that she at least said something. "It's okay." he said and he let go of her arms. "I didn't like them anyway. They make it too difficult to move."
Yume looked up at Mehrunes Dagon, who was now rampaging through the streets, destroying everything in his path. Strangely enough, he hadn't noticed the two of them yet. Why hadn't he noticed them yet? Then she saw him. Chancellor Ocato was standing not too far from them, his eyes closed and his lips moving in some continuous incantation. Altmer, Yume thought, what would we do without them? She turned to Martin. "What do we do now, my prince?"she asked, not without sarcasm, but Martin ignored it. "We're too late." he said. "Mehrunes Dagon is here. Lighting the Dragonfires will no longer save us. The barriers that protected us from Oblivion are gone."
"Can't we cast him back into Oblivion?" the Dunmer asked.
"I don't see how." Martin said, shaking his head. "Mortal weapons may hurt him, but now that he is physically here in Tamriel, they have no power to actually destroy him."
"What about the Amulet of Kings?" Yume asked. This seemed to give Martin an idea.
"Wait." He said. "Yes, the Amulet was given to mortals by Akatosh. It contains his divine power. But how to use this power against Dagon? The Amulet was not intended as a weapon." He thought and thought for what seemed to be a lifetime, then he turned to his friend. "I have an idea. One last hope. I must reach the Dragonfires in the temple of the one!"
Yume wasn't convinced. "But you said it was no use?" she said. Martin looked her intensely in the eye. "You'll just have to trust me." he stated "I know now what I was born to do, but I need your help. I have to get past Mehrunes Dagon somehow…" he looked at the beast that just smashed in a house with his bare hands. Martin clanged his teeth and fist and cold sweat ran down his brow at the thought of the family that had lived there. This Time it was Yume 's turn to make him come to his senses. "Martin!" she snapped. "I need you to focus. Ocato may be able to cover us with his magic now, but who knows when his spell might end."
Martin looked around and saw the chancellor wavering and panting, while hiding against the wall.
"I'm guessing, not long." The prince stated.
"Then we must go now." The Dunmer responded. She stood up and pulled the Imperial with her.
"I will get you to the temple. Follow me." She said while they ran around the building, towards the entrance of the temple.
"Lead on, my friend."Martin said and he smiled at the touch of her hand on his. "I'm with you."
They made a run for it and by some miracle, they reached the temple-entrance intact. They quickly ran inside and Yume barricaded the door. "What are you planning to.." she started, while turning around, but was abruptly cut off by Martin pressing his lips against hers. "I do what I must." He said after this. "I cannot stay and help rebuild Tamriel, that task falls onto others. I know what I felt for you was real. This was my last selfish act. Farewell, my friend." With this, he onto the temple altar and broke the amulet of kings just as Mehrunes Dagon broke through the roof.