I don't own TES. Bethesda does.

Enjoy.

Two months ago

Calcelmo looked at the high elf in front of him, then at the papers she had given him, then at the Altmer again. The woman – she was very young, thirty or forty summers maximum – seemed nervous. She had a long face, golden eyes and skin and thick blond hair that fell loosely over her shoulders. Her overall appearance could only be described as "yellow", for she wore a belted tunica in this colour and high boots in a bright beige.

"Hmm." When Calcelmo made a sound, the other elf jerked. "Please help me, Aria. I can't quite see the reason for you being here. Master of Destruction and Conjuration degrees should give you any position in the lower ranks of the Thalmor, with good chances of making a career. Or you could have stayed in Alinor. Young talented mages like you have every opportunity one can think of, but you are here."

When the older man stayed silent, the women realised it was her turn to speak. "Uh … well, one of my teachers … Master Verano … he said it would be good if I would go to Skyrim. He spoke very highly of the mages here … the Thalmor, the court mages, the College. And although the College would give me a wider education, I think your research has more … hand-on experience." She hesitated. "And … my name, ah … it is Aryna, master. Not Aria." She blushed and looked at her feet.

"It's still quite a difference if you conjure Daedra or examine Dwemer artefacts", Calcelmo said, ignoring her last statement.

"I never dealt that much in enchanting, 'tis true, but I can learn a lot by assisting you, I learn quickly. And I know that you are running out of guards because the ruins are dangerous and your nephew's pet spider killed a few." Aryna dared to speak up. She had to get this apprentice job! "I do not expect any payment but a bed and something to eat. If you are afraid that I steal your work, don't let me see it but please! This is a big opportunity for me, too big to let it pass." Damn. She sounded like she was crying. Calcelmo wouldn't take her, he knew she was hiding something. Divine and Daedra, please…

"Aicantar!" Aryna was startled but had no time to think. Calcelmo's nephew came in. The older man looked at her again. "I think you haven't told me everything, but you don't look like a thief and your references are impressive. Tomorrow at dawn we are going to Nchuand-Zel. I expect you to be ready to clear out the spiders that have infested the first part of the ruin. Now get some sleep. Aicantar, arrange quarters for her, show her around and everything. I don't have the time to play the wet-nurse for two of your sort!"

One month ago

The numbers and sketches, the voices and feelings came with full force that night. Aryna woke with a gasp when the memory of a sword injury hit her. The pictures became stronger with every passing day. I'm running out of time, she thought. The elf cast a mage's light and looked around in her chamber. The little room in the Understone Keep had maybe been a wardrobe in Dwemeri times, but was big enough for a bed and a small table.

Thanking every god she could recall for the existence of paper, she started to put the scenes down in ink. Writing and drawing usually released the pressure of memories on her mind. This night there were construction plans for centurions, the first kiss of an elfling and the chords of a sad song about a bird and a dog. Last of all she wrote about the pain from the sword, then she let out a relieved breath.

The last months had given her insights in the dwarven culture and technology, but nothing helped her with her problem and she didn't dare to search through the memories. She could hardly keep them at bay; if she allowed them to enter her mind they would probably mix with her own or drive her mad. No, she liked the slower descent into madness better. Even now Aryna could feel the memories tug at the edges of her mind. Voices whispering quietly, words ready to speak, spells begging silently to be cast…

"Aryna?" Aicantar's voice silenced the memories. "Why are you still awake?"

"I just had a nightmare. No need to worry." She smiled at the Altmer. Their relationship felt a little bit weird-in Alinor, they would have been strictly separated-but had settled as not-quite-friends-more-than-colleagues. Siblings in pain, maybe, for Calcelmo treated both of them without mercy. But Aicantar had told her a lot about the old mer's work. She hadn't seen much of it for herself because her part on the expeditions was mostly to blast everything that stood in their way to Oblivion. "And you? I thought tomorrow would be an important day, new expedition and stuff…"

"Vaermina blessed me too tonight." He scowled and looked at the paper sheets on her desk. "What in Oblivion…?"

Gods, no… "Please, Aicantar, this isn't your uncle's work, I promise you-"

With two quick steps he stood at her side and took a sheet: "That's a centurion! Construction plans… What have you done? Calcelmo gave you a job, he trusted you! How could you?"

Aryna looked at her feet, unable to meet the man's gaze. "This isn't Calcelmo's work. Mehrunes Dagon take my soul if I lie, but I didn't steal from you. Please let me explain."

The Altmer saw she was serious. "I'll give you a chance to tell the story. The whole story. But not here."

The cold night air bit in Aryna's skin and burned in her lungs, but it also cleared her mind and that was what she needed. The two high elves stood side by side on Calcelmo's balcony and looked at the city below them.

After a while the woman broke the silence. "About two weeks before I came to you, I was in Riften. I was looking for an apprenticeship. When I walked through the harbour, a confused Argonian gave me a Dwemeri cube and said something about Avanchnzel. I was curious, went there and … it was strange. Memories of four adventurers stalked the hallways, telling and retelling their story. One of them was the madwoman from Riften.

"They wanted to steal the wisdom of Avanchnzel. The cube was the key to it. The Argonian – the sole survivor – took it with her but went mad. In the last hall I put the cube in its old place, but something went wrong. The memories entered me and now they haunt me. In my dreams, in the daylight. It's getting worse. Writing and drawing helps me to release the pressure, but I needed help. Since it was Dwemeri magic, I hoped I would find something by your uncle's work. I'm running out of time…"

A long, long time they stayed silent. Then Aicantar said: "You should have talked to Calcelmo immediately."

"Yes. But at first I didn't trust him and I didn't know how he would react when I would tell him later. I'm sorry."

Aicantar stood up. "Tell him. Tomorrow, before we go on the expedition. He will be furious, but under his harsh hide is a heart. I'll support you. He won't turn you away. He can't."

Tears filled Aryna's eyes. "Aicantar… Thank you. I cannot tell you what this means to me."

He smiled at her. "Go to bed now. Maybe you'll get some sleep."

Four hours later, they came for her.