Ice and Blood

by Invidia Glacius

Invidia is a Breton, orphaned as a child but managed to avoid Honorhall and landed in High Hrothgar at the age of thirteen. Two of her few friends were murdered by the Thalmor, and now she needs to sate her vengeance or everything will come crashing down. Loosely follows Stormcloak Quest line, and may branch off into others later. She isn't Dovahkiin! (There is one though.)

A/N: Hullllo. I'm here for now, though I don't now for how long. Tell me what ya think and I'll get back to you at… well, whenever.

And beeegin…

Chapter One

Frozen Blood

I stood in the snow covered lands on the outskirts of Winterhold, soaking in the cold. I was one among many this frozen day, a nameless face meant to be forgotten among the crowds. The only reason I was here was for my mentor who taught me all those years ago. Mirabelle Ervine may have been slightly insufferable, but once you got past the frayed edges she could be quite friendly.

Seeing this happen to my fellow Breton sent my blood to a boil for more than one reason. The first was why I stood where I was, looking upon the gravestone unworthy of marking her spot. The second being the knowledge that I wasn't there. The only person who didn't forget me at the college were Savos and Mirabelle, who both lie dead in the dirt. The third being the one reason which still remained bothering at present: she was killed by Ancano, High Elf of the Aldmeri Dominion who still attempted to oppress my homeland of Skyrim.

Despite being a full blooded Breton woman, I was far more ice hardened than the Nords around here. My parents said that the land claimed me her daughter before I was even born. It was an exceptionally harsh winter storm that night when I sprung from my mother and even harsher when I watched them pass. My white hair fell through the front of my hood, obscuring the ground at which tears fell from my frozen eyes.

I knew it wouldn't help, this quest I was so determined to fulfill. My parents wouldn't have been proud, Mirabelle wouldn't have been proud, even Savos wouldn't be pleased. None of them would want me to, but yet they'd understand this thirst I held. The thirst for blood, for elven blood. This thirst for vengeance had gone unfulfilled for too long now, and it must change.

And I knew just where to go.

I was approaching the Palace of Kings in Windhelm, not bothering the notice the curious, or were they malicious? It truly didn't matter because if they came for her, they'd be a frozen block on the bottom of the river. Most seemed to realize that I wasn't here for a social visit and quickly returned to their work, while others continued to glare at me.

I walked straight up to the Palace, my white traveling cloak trailing behind me. When two guards stepped in front of me, my hand immediately went to my sword. When I didn't use magic in combat, I solely relied on my sword and daggers, both of which were family heirlooms. The sword was made out of ebony, but made of silver in the hilt, pommel, and cross guard, while the rest was pitch black. The knife kept up my sleeve was a gift to her father when she was little. The blade was triangular, but was made out of a metal called Stralhim and cold seemed to radiate from the blade, indicating a powerful enchantment.

As the guards stepped in front of me, it took all my will power not the pin them to wall with ice spikes. Standing before me, hands on their swords, they initiated the conversation, "Halt! No one sees the Jarl without identifying themselves first. Remove your hood and state your business!" By the Nine! I forgot how bloody annoying listening to guards can get.

Not wishing to cause a scene, I pulled my hood down and let my hair fall forwards before giving myself proper identification, "My name is Invidia Glacius of Winterhold. I seek the Jarl's attention and bare news in result from the incidents at the college. Now let me pass before a freeze your sorry hides to the wall behind you." The part about baring news was a lie; she knew what happened as did anyone else. The guards looked at each other nervously, before nodding and opening the door.

Upon entering the palace, the first thing I noticed was how empty it was. Besides the guards at the door, the only other people in here was a man in black wizards robes, obviously the Jarl's Wizard, another that was most likely his steward, the armed housecarl in the corner, a man whose armor made him look more like a bear than man, and of course there was the Jarl himself. When the doors closed behind me, every single gaze shifted to focus on me.

Unfazed by the newly gained attention, I strode across the hall and stood before the Jarl who sat slightly slouch and his head on his fist as if nothing in the world bothered him. "What business do you have in Windhelm, girl?" said the Jarl, a Nordic drawl slurring his words as if slightly drunk.

Giving him an annoyed glance, I answered him, "Be careful who you call girl, boy. Because looks may be deceiving, and I certainly don't want to find you 'accidentally' frozen to your throne one day." The housecarl and the bear-man both drew their weapons, an iron battleaxe and a steel greatsword and moved to guard me. Casting each of them a bemused look, I continued, "I'm here to join the rebellion on the terms of a freelance spell sword. I carry as much, if not more hatred for the Thalmer than you and seek vengeance, but I do not wish to be sworn to you because afterwards, I seek to return to my life as a traveler while I still can."

The Jarl cast a second glance over me, seemingly apprehensive. He waved off his lackeys and addressed the woman more directly, "I see, you say you're from Winterhold and you told my guards you had news from the College. Did this perhaps have anything to do with a certain high elf betrayal?" At my nod he smirked. "Good enough reason for me. Though as with all new recruits, we'll be sending you on a little trial run."

And that ladies and gentlemen, is how I found myself muttering curses under my breath as I was trudging back from Serpent Stone Island after killing that pointless ice wraith. Trudging over the tundra, I looked around for my horse which should've been fifty yards back but wasn't. Continuing to fight through the snow, I stepped over the top of the hill.

And was literally standing in the middle of a battle. Well, off on the side, but the point is clear enough. To my left, nearer to Winterhold was a small battalion of Stormcloaks, no bigger than thirty troops, and to my right were approximately one hundred twenty? One hundred thirty, imperial soldiers. Taking a closer look, I noticed that that around fifty of the soldiers were Thalmor.

It just dawned on me to why I didn't hear them from a distance. Apparently the Imperial's were trying to be diplomatic and were meeting with the captain of the Stormcloak forces. Without thinking I took off and arrived in the diplomatic group besides the Stormcloak officer. A Thalmor 'ambassador' and an Imperial Captain were badgering the Stormcloak, bragging about their 'superior might.'

"Shut your damn mouths Thalmor and Thalmor slave!" I snapped. All three of them turned their gazes to me. The elf was annoyed, the Imperial was furious, and the Stormcloak looked pleasantly shocked. I looked at the Imperial Captain and gave him a hearty smirk, "One question lad, what in the name of Talos is a Nord like you doing with the Aldmeri Dominion?"

It took all my will power not to laugh at the elf's irate expression and look into the eyes of the Nord Imperial Captain. His expression went from mad, to shocked, to unbelieving. He thinks I'm some low blood with not even a septim on him. I thought dryly. His jaw twitched and he shout, his voice echoing off the mountain faces, "Do you know who I am you insolent woman? Zu'u Dovahkiin!" I am Dragonborn. With his last two words, force exploded from him, knocking the Thalmor and the Stormcloak Captain to the ground, while I remained standing (and laughing), receiving a wary look from the Dovahkiin.

Why? You might ask, did I not get knocked off my feet? For the past decade I had been traveling throughout Skyrim, stopping in Whiterun, Markarth, Riften (though only for a short while), and about one year in Winterhold where I mastered my magic. I'd avoided the heavily Imperial Controlled areas such as Morthal, Solitude, and Falkreath. But what no one really knew was that from the age of thirteen to adulthood I spent time at High Hrothgar with the Greybeards as there adopted daughter of sorts. They trained me in the way of the Voice after I became a wandering orphan. Instead of going to Honorhall like most, I ran from the caravan and made my way to Ivarstead where I helped Klimmek make the rounds to High Hrothgar.

During one of the trips, Klimmek got injured by a Frost Troll that I managed to push off the cliff moments later. I ran to the entrance of High Hrothgar shouting at the top off my lungs for help. Whether it was the voice of me being an 'innocent' little girl, or the shear desperation in the words, but Master Arngeir sent me supplies enough for Klimmek to return to Ivarstead-on one condition: I train with him and the rest of the Greybeards until I reach adulthood.

I practiced upon my travels, whispering the shouts to the woods and snow, but I haven't actually heard anyone else use the Dragon Tongue in the past decade. Of course living in Skyrim I heard about the Dragonborn and his achievements with Alduin the World Eater, but I knew how much help he also had.

When the Dovahkiin used his Thu'um, it reminded me of when the Greybeards summoned him: loud and grabbing the attention of everyone, good for shock and awe, but not for absolute terror. Terror came from the unknown, from the whispers riding the air, from power unseen. Barely raising my actual voice above a whisper, I responded in the Dov Tongue, "Zu'u fokiin." I am frostborn.

The words were soft, yes. But the power of my voice carried it though the air, rattling the soldiers like a deadly breeze. The Imperial looked shocked, then his pompous expression returned and he gave a smirk, "I am Callus Vespus, Dovahkiin!" his words were now in the common language, but the Thu'um empowered it none the less. "I slew the World-Eater himself! I ventured to Sovngarde and returned! You, little Breton are nothing in comparison to me!"

I looked at him in surprise for second, than let out a whispering chuckle that snaked through the air. "I am nothing in comparison to you, Dovahkiin? Where you hold you arrogance and pride, I hold truth and vengeance. I care not for your titles and honors." With every word said, I watched the Imperials shift slightly. I could only imagine how this looked: their dragonborn being told off by another, only whispers heard of her voice. No one could see her face through the white hood around her head. No, to them I was the enemy, more powerful than they could ever know. I was cold, I was ice, I was spite.

"You know nothing of the snow in these hills," I continued, still whispering. "You know nothing of the illness that seeps into your home country under guise as these disgusting Thalmor." I met his eyes and watched the tremor pass through his body. "My name is Invidia, I am spite. My family is Glacius, my blood is ice. And I say now, with the world as my witness. If you advance, your army will soak this land crimson with their blood, whether from my blade or voice. You are warned."

I turned around and grabbed the shell shocked Stormcloak Officer and hauled him to his feet. We began walking back to the lines when he stopped and held out his hand, "Ralof." I grasped it before responding, "Vidi." We returned to the Stormcloak force, and stood at attention in front of the soldiers before drawing their swords together and facing the Imperials.

Callus mimicked the gesture with his Thalmor lackey. Together they charged at the Stormcloak force. Ralof and I hefted our swords and charged, but not before I whispered one last thing, "Niid Aaz."

No Mercy.

Well? How was it? Tell me if you liked Invidia or not and who, if any, should be the pairing.

R&R.