Disclaimer: Don't own. This idea came from my first inspiration for my old Morrowind character, who I knew I had to make after reading The Lusty Argonian Maid. I wondered if she might have been a real person, what might have been their actual conversation, and not just what Crassius wanted to hear. It somehow evolved into a real character with a more complex personality, becoming my avatar in other Elder Scrolls games I've played. She became more than just a randomly chosen character, and seeing all the other fanfics out there with their own Nerevarine characters, I'm not alone in this. Taking her into Skyrim was... strange, but I thought why not, the Nerevarine is immortal. First is the prologue and her background and what all happened during her odd beginnings and then the events of Morrowind, then her continuing adventures in Skyrim. This was written mostly for my own enjoyment but if you feel like reading it too, go for it.

It had begun innocently. Really, it had. She had been cleaning as always, just going about her business. An Imperial building needed a good deal of that, after all. After she had been orphaned, her parents dead during the Arnesian war and being an Argonian marooned in a sea of Dunmer and Imperials, Laje-tal had been unwittingly born into a life of slavery. She escaped, of course, and after a time she found herself here, deep in Morrowind near the city of Mournhold. Though it hadn't been easy, being a live-in maid did have the benefit of good protection and a fine roof over her head, even if it wasn't hers. She wasn't even a slave anymore, the Imperials she was working for certainly didn't stand for that and paid her for her work. Everything had been perfectly fine until he came along.

She had been notified of a noble coming to stay at the manor for a few days, some man from the Great House Hlaalu. His room would be just as clean as anyone else's so she wasn't sure why they bothered telling her, but Imperials were funny about appearances. A vague promise to do a better job than usual had sufficed well enough, and so it was that she had been cleaning when the man came in. Curse the damn fireplace and its constant filth.

"Well well, did the mistress really send me my very own servant?" Despite herself she had looked, taking in a brief glance of aging, uninteresting Imperial. Ignoring him, she went about her business but he just kept on talking. "I say, my fair lady, are you here to serve me?"

Hiding a roll of her eyes she answered him curtly. "No, I'm simply here to clean your chambers. I'll be finished soon enough."

He didn't take being shoved off easily. "Is that all you came for, my sweet? My chambers?"

This time she frowned at him. "Yes. Once I'm done someone will be along with your linens."

"Such a shame, I'd rather have you bring my linens. You have such strong legs and a shapely tail!"

This needed to end now. Unfortunately she hadn't quite gotten a particularly tough soot stain off the mantle and she cursed every speck of ash as she scrubbed it away. "I'm sure you have better things to do than harassing the maids."

He smiled a smile she found terribly disgusting. "Not at all. I wouldn't harm a scale on you, I'm merely offering you a compliment."

"If you don't mind, I need to get back to my cleaning. You're distracting me."

"Cleaning, you say? I have just the thing." Holding out a long, steel spear, he gestured, trying to get her to take it. "Here, why don't you polish my spear?"

Taking one look at it she could tell it was tarnished, needing the attention of a specialist. "I don't take care of such a thing. You would do best to see the weapons master."

Finally she managed to dislodge him – for now.

The second time she had met Crassius Curio, she had known his name. She had been cautioned to his nature this time, and she knew better what to expect. He was a man with perverse notions, harmless enough but still disturbing. Unfortunately he was also one of the Hlaalu councilors so everyone did what they could to humor him. To her dismay, this time he also knew her name.

"Why hello there, Laje-tal!" Yet again he had found her, right on schedule with when she was set to start cleaning. Wonderful. "You know, I was wondering, what sort of name is Laje-tal? Not that it doesn't fit such a beautiful creature, but I don't know what to make of it."

Gritting her teeth, she set about straightening his bed covers. "In your tongue it means lifts her tail. A lifted tail is a sign of health and strength. It doesn't do to drag one's tail on the ground like a sick animal. If you were to actually consult those books of yours you would see it is a common enough name."

"Oh." Not sure what to think, he defaulted to what had brought him here to begin with. "Maybe you can solve this conundrum of mine... I don't think I've been doing it quite right." He took out a dish full of raw bread dough, poking at it. "Would you know what the next step in making this would be?"

She stared into the bowl, the enormous amount not even kneaded yet. Even she knew better, and she wasn't one of the cooks. "You made too much, you'll need two pans for that, and you had better knead it first. Ask one of the cooks about it."

"The next step is to knead it?"

"It needs yeast, and needs to rise, but yes. Again, I don't know. Ask one of the cooks."

Risking a curious glance, he offered her the bowl. "I don't quite know how. Would you knead it for me?"

This time she didn't conceal her rolling eyes. "You shouldn't even have such a thing out of the kitchens. The mistress would have a fit if she noticed it missing. You had better return it."

"Oh don't fret about the mistress, she will get her appetite sated well enough."

She froze, suddenly catching on to his innuendo. Really, she had been too literal and innocent a type to know any better at her young age. Dropping the covers as they lay she left, giving up. It was rumored that Queen Barenziah would be coming by. Maybe the fair queen mother would take another guard for her caravan. By any Daedra that would help her, she hoped so.

The third time they met, things had been very different indeed. She had taken that guard job, changing her profession into one that suited her need for adventure, desire to learn more magic, and of course getting away from Imperial nobility. She served the queen faithfully for a good long time but after being framed for a crime she was sent to an Imperial prison, at a loss for what to do next. Then one day without warning she was released and transferred to Vvardenfell, starting a journey she never would have expected.

Along that odd journey she had come to the city of Sadrith Mora, a place she came to know inside and out after joining House Telvanni. They had everything she wanted; free magic, interesting enchanted items, access to as many books as she could read, everything! The only thing missing was not getting those odd looks every time she came into a room. It was almost as if they had never seen an Argonian Telvanni wizard before. Well, they hadn't, but did they really have to do that every time she entered? Still, if nothing else the Telvanni minded their business, unlike the pesky Hlaalu and stuffy Redoran. By the time they realized she intended to carve a more permanent place in their world she had already dug herself too far in to be easily ousted.

The wizard Aryon, a Dunmer with a very obvious chip on his shoulder, had reluctantly agreed to be her patron in the house, glad for an ally against the stagnation of the rest of the house, and now it was as his second that she stood here in the Hlaalu canton of Vivec, following the Nerevarine prophecy that she had somehow found herself fulfilling, taking the last step to be the Hlaalu hortator. House Redoran had accepted her readily enough and after all her hard work the Telvanni accepted her, but the moment she saw Crassius Curio she groaned, hoping against all hopes that he wouldn't recognize her after all these years. Fate was crueler than that.

"Laje-tal!"

She winced. Really, most of the time the soft-skins got members of her kin confused for one another, not noticing the subtle differences in face and skin patterns, but she just had to come across one of the few who never forgot. Trying her best to be diplomatic she spoke plainly, but he had demanded the unacceptable. No, she wasn't keen on stripping for him. Instead she had shoved a mountain of coins at him, bribing the position out of him. It left her nearly broke and angry but she had an idea of how to solve that. Yes, a Telvanni Arch-Magister and his two dremora guards were on her hit list. That might make her feel better. For now.

The final time she saw him, he was laying in a pool of blood at her feet. Someone had been so terribly annoyed by him that they enlisted the Morag Tong to take care of him, just when she had been itching to do it herself. Although it was beyond disappointing, it was at least satisfying to witness the scene of the execution. Somewhat.

His latest play had been what inspired her to go there that day. Sure, his own name had been changed and he used her common tongue version of her name, but anyone who knew the Argonian language enough to know what her name meant hadn't had the decency to not raise an eyebrow at her. All of those she was able to call friends, along with those who knew about the man's more... peculiar enjoyments didn't believe one bit of it, but it was slander all the same. If only she knew who had slain him! She would be sure to go congratulate them.

When she went to visit Aryon, arms full of every copy of the play she could find, he had given his faithful student a curious look as she dumped the load near his pile of firewood. As soon as he saw what they all were his smile widened, threatening to become a full smirk. "Planning a bonfire today?"

Turning to him with a toothy grin she rubbed her hands together with expectation. "Yes, a big one, a whole pillar of fire." It hadn't taken too long for her to figure out who had issued the hit on Crassius, and it was with a glint in her eye that she came closer to her mentor, almost freezing him in place with just a look. "I would have done it outside but you know, I said to myself I bet Aryon would love to join in the celebration. I haven't the slightest idea what gave me that notion but then I've never been one to question such things when I think of them. Tell me, am I right?"

He shrugged helplessly, playing along. "It did occur to me today that it was a bit cold outside."

She did grabbed the collar of his robes, seeing the challenging look in his eyes that had first sparked the day she had killed Gothren, tossing the blood stained robe at his feet. That had been the day their strange but very strong relationship had become anything but platonic, albeit in a sudden, unexpected outburst of action. "Cold, was it?" Turning about just enough to focus her aim she concentrated a small bit of magic into her hand, pulling on the telekinesis spell to toss the papers into the fireplace, chucking a fireball right after them until they burned to her satisfaction. "Somehow I'm not quite sure that will be enough."

Their difference in height was only slight, and he found it easy to challenge her grip, knowing how even a battle it would be between them. "Come now, I taught you better. I know you have more than that in you. Show me what you've learned."

Together they had finally managed to subdue an Oblivion gate in Sadrith Mora. Though they couldn't close the things, they could at least lessen the magic that allowed the Daedra through. Both Aryon and herself had worked side by side openly for the first time during the crisis, the troubles too great for anyone to care who or what aided their escape. In the chaos the true leader of the house had been revealed, along with their clandestine relationship, but it had become an afterthought as the battle raged onward. Tel Uvirith had unsurprisingly fallen, being too small yet and not as well guarded as the other strongholds. Laje-tal had evacuated her retainers beforehand, knowing the hordes of daedra would be too much for anyone. She, along with Aryon, had never kept slaves, considering the act both unnecessary and tasteless, given her lineage, but they did have plenty of paid servants and now it was everyone for themselves.

Most of the other Telvanni had joined in with them, doing what little they could to abate the damage to their holdings as well as the rest of Vvardenfell. The Mages Guild stood side by side with the Telvanni, former Argonian and Khajiit slaves helping bring buckets of water to douse the homes of Dunmer and Imperials. For once everyone on the island was in agreement, and it was both heartening and chilling to watch. Daedra poured out of the uncontrolled Oblivion gates, coming by the tens and then hundreds. It was all that the mages could do to stem the tide, the rest left up to swordsmen, archers and pikemen. Everything seemed hopeless.

Dratha, the only Telvanni councilor who had accepted Laje-tal with open arms, came running up to them, burned and out of breath. "Arch-Magister! My stronghold has fallen, Therana is dead and her holdings burned. Neloth has disappeared and Sadrith Mora is overrun. We can't take much more of this."

Laje-tal turned to her, still a little off-put by how the other woman addressed her. It had only just been revealed that an Argonian had been the true Arch-Magister, but then Dratha was odd like that. All she cared was that the new Arch-Magister wasn't another man. "We need to evacuate everyone, it's pointless to defend everything. The more people that gather, the more dangerous it's becoming. Clear out as many as you can to the wilds, these gates seem to be opening only near the cities and towns. There's no hope for House Telvanni, just save what you can and run!"

Understandably Dratha looked shaken, but she could see just as clearly that this was the only choice left for them; for anyone. The mages would hold back the daedra until their wills broke, but it would be sooner rather than later. Already some had been drained to exhaustion, there wasn't much time left. She gathered what remained of her warrior-women, giving them orders while nervously watching as the ground shook.

Pain and terror were all that anyone remembered during those days, broken only by grieving the dead and anger as they struck their foes. As suddenly as it came, it stopped. The gates suddenly stopped functioning, becoming smoking husks of stone. Despite their efforts, the official count of the dead was unknown. There were simply too many to even begin, but all got a proper burial – if anything was left of them to bury. Dunmer custom demanded burial by fire, and it was said that the skies burned dull red every night for an entire month from the pyres. It was only the beginning of picking up the pieces.

The five years after the crisis had been hard to say the least. What was left of their world was unrecognizable. Laje-tal had felt a strange thing during the Oblivion crisis, something that made her yearn to go to Black Marsh, but she had fought it off easily enough, dismissing it as an anomaly. Later they found out that many Argonians had been called the same way by the Hist to fight against the daedra attacking the marsh. Ald'ruhn had been all but cleared from the map, utterly destroyed. Imperial soldiers had been called back to Cyrodiil in droves, abandoning both the island and the mainland of Morrowind. Although some of them understood the need to protect home before all else, most of Morrowind detested the action, further degrading their relationship.

As for the Imperial City, to say that it was in a disastrous state would have been a horrendous understatement. The last of the Septim line was dead, the nation had no ruler, and everything was falling apart as they watched. On Vvardenfell, now completely separated from Imperial help, Laje-tal couldn't help but think that the Ashlanders and dissidents had finally gotten what they wanted. The Imperials were gone. Five years passed, a long, quiet five years filled with work and suffering. It was only to get worse.

One day Laje-tal woke earlier than usual, rising from the bed in the small house they had been sheltering in. Vos and Tel Vos had been just as well destroyed as anywhere else, so Aryon had sent on what little he could of what remained on to other holdings, retreating with her to live as quietly as they could, keeping low in their weakness. She didn't know what roused her, but she felt it in her blood just as surely as she had felt the pull of the Hist. Leaving Aryon to rest as long as he could she walked outside, watching as the sun was just about to rise.

The air was cold, typical for that time of the year, but it didn't stop her from following what tugged on her. Facing the direction of the sun, she felt something she hadn't felt in years. Azura was there, showing her the way yet again. Her moon and star ring on her hand burned a cold fiery burn, sudden images coming to mind. A mountain glowed red hot, rocks fell from the sky, entire towns sunk into the ground beneath. Just as it felt about to end, she heard Azura's voice.

"This will come to pass, friend to my children. Many have been told, but not all will listen. You still hold many hearts of the people, and they may yet listen to what I must say. Red Mountain will roar as it never has in times past, and those who seek power will take advantage of a weakness. Remove yourself from this land, Argonian, and take any with you that will follow you. Bear west and north, only there will you escape the tide of blood to come."

Then suddenly Azura was gone, only the pulling tug remaining, guiding her where she was to flee to. By now Laje-tal had learned to heed the Daedric prince's advice, and it wasn't long before she got over the shock, dashing back inside to pack immediately. Shaking Aryon awake, she countered his confused look by shoving his empty pack onto his lap. "Red Mountain is going to erupt. Azura wants us to get as many out as we can."

He rose as quickly as could be expected, feeling somewhat dumbfounded. "What?"

Showing her hand quickly enough to point to Nerevar's ring, she went about stashing away as much as she could in her pack. "It's just like before, with Dagoth Ur. We can't stay on Vvardenfell much longer, and neither can anyone else. We won't be able to save everyone, but we have to do what we can."

Being of the Telvanni, it was in their nature to ignore things outside of their own cares, but neither of them had really had that disposition. They had always been more involved in everything going on, from the Ashlander relations to the way goods were traded. Aryon had also known her for too long to wonder that she suddenly received a vision from Azura. There had been more than one before, and all had come true. He himself had seen other followers of Azura have much the same experience. As a Dunmer, he knew that the Daedric lords were quite real indeed, even if their motives were often questionable. Azura, on the other hand, had a kinship with the Dunmer especially, and he didn't find it hard to believe that she was watching over them. "If Azura says we're to go, then we must go. I'll send off as many messages as I can. If they will come, then they will. If not..."

"It can't be helped." She stopped for a moment in her packing, suddenly seeing beyond sight, more thoughts and images flooding into her. "Wait. There is more. I see a war. There is blood, fire, more death. Other Argonians." Shaking her head against the sensations, she became more hasty in her preparations. "We will need to be careful, I think, once we leave Vvardenfell. If my kin are truly preparing to fight us, we need to get well out of their range. I strongly doubt they would allow even me to live."

"No, probably not." They hadn't addressed her status among other Argonians much during her time on Vvardenfell. It hadn't mattered, with everything else that had been happening, but now the sudden threat of others of her kind loomed as a very real danger. She would be killed just as coldly as any other Telvanni, even if she hadn't taken part in the darker methods of the others. Sensing her trepidation, he came closer to her, giving an embrace she hadn't known she was wanting. "Some days you are so much more Dunmer than Argonian, I almost forget. I forget that you never knew what it was to be among your own people. I'll never understand that about you."

"There's no need," she reassured him, returning the embrace unconsciously. "I'm not a Dunmer, nor am I Argonian or Imperial or anything else." Pulling back from him she offered him one of her trademark toothy grins. "I am just myself, and it's all I can ever be."