At dawn, the vigil for those who were lost at Ragnvald began. Aithne had been allowed out of the shaman's hands and into the matriarch's care right before they all gathered. The Reachmen were not exactly traditional as far as human races went in what they believed in and what they considered the afterlife to be. The Divines were worshiped but in conjunction with the Old Gods and the Daedra. Most took on a primary patron, but still revered the others. This was why their interpretation of the afterlife wasn't set to one singular place, like Sovngarde. If they worshiped a particular Daedra, say Hircine, they would hope to go the Hunting Grounds when they pass. However, they were the kind of people that were more focused on the present, rather than the afterlife. It also helped that other populations feared the realms of Daedra and the Void whereas the Reachman would be perfectly content there. The gods and Daedra took care of their faithful, what did they have to fear?
Well, some of the few Nords within the Forsworn actually did fear going to somewhere like Sovngarde, but they were happy to hope they would still be among the people they truly thought of as kin after their lives had been said and done.
In the early hours of the day, they would mourn their lost and pray to the patron of the Void, Sithis, to protect their fallen comrades' souls. At the end of the day was another story. Life was fleeting and should be celebrated and honored. The only way the Reachmen believed that they could properly do that was to get drunk off a concoction of juniper berries and whatever alcohol they had on hand. Traditionally there would be fires burning throughout the night and occasionally some festivities if something major had happened, but they had too much work to do and many weren't inclined to the idea of building fires outside of Harmugstahl and attracting the ire of another dragon. Though, they took comfort that they had something, whatever that something was, against the dragons. Whether Aithne was just blessed or cursed, depending who was asked, she still gave them hope. Whatever the coming of the dragons meant, she would be there and with her people.
Aithne was hyperaware of the new attention that she had garnered as she went through the ruin to meet with Drascua. Some simply watched her curiously while other gave her a salute. She recognized some of them as the ones she fought next to only days before. So far, she was relieved that there were no suspicious glances or veiled threats. While she did not expect anything to come of it, fear made people do things that they usually wouldn't and even the Forsworn weren't immune to fear, despite their efforts to seem like it.
"Come, dear, we have much to do," Drascua said once she made it into the area of the ruin that the hagraven had claimed for her own. Her remaining witches were methodically sorting through her research that had been saved and trying to make the most out of the new space they occupied. Kora was also there, not surprisingly, with an enthusiastic look on her face when her eyes landed on Aithne. It had taken a moment for Aithne to realize why Kora seemed to be at the hagraven's side consistently, but it hit her when one of the briarhearts addressed Kora as Drascua's First. Most camps revered the matriarch first and foremost, but under them was their first in command. Kora, despite her young age, seemed to have already proved herself to the hagraven. It was a huge honor that often left the It First's as the next matriarch, and usually hagraven. Despite not usually being vain, Aithne couldn't imagine someone like Kora sacrificing her humanity and looks to become an old crone. Then again in turn she would get respect and power that most would never have the chance to gain. Still, it was a pity and many would quietly mourn the day that Kora followed in Drascua's footsteps.
"I hope you're ready." Kora said ominously as she tied her dark hair back with an eerie gleam in her eyes. Perhaps it was a requirement to be too invested in research if one was working with matriarchs. Specifically, the kind that caused discomfort to Aithne. Though Aithne could respect the fact that they seemed to always be working forward in magical research, granted at the expense of others.
"I hope I am," Aithne said with a small laugh that sounded forced to her own ears. Gods, what were they going to do to her?
"You'll be fine," Kora promised as she began placing soul gems and charcoal on the floor in patterns. "We're going to make sure you aren't possessed firstly. Then we'll just go down the list." The list she had in hand was rather extensive, to say the least. "I hope you didn't have anything planned for the rest of the afternoon." Aithne was also apparently going to suffer through Kora's sarcasm as well it seemed.
"I've also happened upon some information regarding the Dragonborn condition." Drascua addressed it like a disease. "Not much is written about them, but there are ways. You could hike along the Throat of the World and hope that a group of extremely reclusive monks let you into their monastery, provided you don't die of weather or frost-troll related incidents on the way up. The Mage's College would more than likely have more texts on it, but whether they would even let an outsider have access to it is another matter. I suppose you could also attempt to hunt down the Blades, but they're all but extinct and in turn, the Thalmor would more than likely kill you for trying…"
"So our options are none?" Aithne breathed out, a bit disappointed. Were they ever going to find answers at this rate?
Drascua shook her head. "No, child. It just means that we are likely on our own, but that isn't exactly unusual for us. Although, if you wish to pursue one of these options you have the right to do so."
"I'll think about it." Aithne nodded. She supposed that it was best to get through with this first and worry about the Nordic legend business later.
"Good," Drascua nodded with approval. "I promise it won't be anything too invasive and I'll only take a few samples."
A few sounded more like a few too many, but Aithne was in no position to argue and she was accustomed to answering to the demands of hagravens. Such was the way of life within the Reach. Aithne was a little surprised that they implemented Stendarr techniques that would make any Vigilant of Stendarr proud. Well, expect the fact that it was a Daedra-worshiping hagraven doing it. That probably wouldn't sit well with them. Or anyone outside of the Reach for that matter. It was a curious thing to Aithne, that out of most of the cultures in Skyrim, the Reach had been the only one to allow the worship of Daedra and Aedra. She understood why they revered the Divines, but she didn't understand why they would choose to only worship them when they aren't the only gods out there. Aithne would probably never know the answer to that question, but it still kept her up at night.
"Hold still." Drascua snapped after a moment. "The more you make me struggle to get the blood sample, the more samples I will take. This is why I usually do this on dead bodies. The alive ones move too much." She warned, her black eyes narrowed dangerously and Aithne knew she would make good on her word. "Kora." The shaman looked up from the books she had been pouring over, her own blue eyes were squinted from staring at the pile of books she had collected.
"Yes, matriarch?" Kora asked, her lips pursed in disdain at either what she read or being interrupted, though possibly both.
"Have you found anything useful yet?" The old crone asked as she shuffled back over to the table, the vials in her hands were full of Aithne's blood. Aithne herself was quietly casting a small healing spell on the hand that had been almost ceremoniously cut open for Drascua to use.
"I will inform you when I do," Kora reassured her as she pushed the book she had been reading to the side. "It's mostly just about Tiber Septim and his heirs. Though there was one that spoke briefly about the Akaviri. 'Dunno why though." She added with a small sigh.
Aithne took the moment of rest to look over Drascua's personal notes thus far. It was scrawled out haphazardly on a yellow piece of parchment. Subject Aithne's signs thus far: headache, heightened irritation (also seems to have the ability to irritate others) and aggression, can speak broken bits of Dragon tongue, and strip dragon's of their flesh and magic(?).
Aithne felt her irritation spike for a moment but settled down. Drascua kept her on a cocktail of blue mountain flower potions to keep the throbbing in her skull to a minimum and an enchanted Calm amulet on her. She was getting restless and honestly wanted results.
"Oh, Aithne," Kora said, drawing Aithne's attention back to the present and to her. "When we went back to Ragnvald to retrieve the rest of what's left I took a charcoal sketch of the words on the wall you mentioned." She said as she pulled the paper out. For a moment it looked like just lines and dots, but the word that stuck out to her was obvious.
"There," Aithne pointed to it with her newly healed hand. "That's Kaan. It has to do with peace and Kyne, I think."
"Well, Kaan translates directly to Kyne. Which is the Nordic goddess for Kynareth, but she's supposed to be the head goddess or something. I don't know why, I'm not an expert of Nordic religion just because I've been tasked with suddenly researching them." Kora said defensively.
Drascua's face pinched together, and while Aithne was not an expert on body language for any being, she thought she might be the slightest bit pleased. "It literally translates to Kyne, dear." Kora made a face that spoke volumes of, 'yes, I just said that' without it being said aloud. "What the word meant for dragons, however, is something we are no longer privy to. Most of their sayings had been in groups of words and often mistranslated because the race of Men has forgotten what context means. Not to mention the dragons didn't make it a habit to worship the gods as we do."
Kora's eyebrows went up for a moment. "Oh." She nodded as it sank it. Aithne looked a tad helplessly between them for a moment.
"Oh? What does oh mean?" She asked impatiently. Aithne had to deal with them all day and she had barely been able to keep up. "Is oh good?"
"Oh could be, I suppose," Kora said as if she were measuring out her words. "What the matriarch is implying is that Kaan is, in fact, Kyne to us, but the meaning behind the word could be peace. To dragons." Her eyes briefly glanced over at Aithne as she said the last bit.
Or Dragonborns. Aithne's stomach churned at the thought, though her blood rushed with something that felt like adrenaline. It felt like the whole day had nearly been spent trying to convince themselves that Aithne's new "gift," as Kora gently puts it, is a result of literally anything else.
Aithne suppressed the connection she felt between the pressure in her head and the word Kaan for the umpteenth time that day.
"So I have the happenstance to suddenly understand dragon context and culture now?" Aithne stated rather than asked. Her voice was strained and Kora gave her pitying look. Aithne hated being pitied.
Drascua, on the other hand, was consistently fresh out of pity and mercy. "I wouldn't give yourself that much credit. You know one word among an entire language, but that doesn't make you fluent. Just strange."
Aithne could live with being strange, just not Nordic or at least in the supremely patriotic and Ninth Divine worshiping type of Nordic. She had been raised from birth that the Tiber Septim and (until recently) Empire loving Nords of Skyrim were the antithesis of the Reach. First they kicked the Reachman from their thrones and out into the wilds and let the Nords take over all the while the Empire branded them as barbaric and then said Nords continued to suppress them for years to come. Then when they took back their home twenty some years ago, only for it to be felled by Ulfric Stormcloak, the Bear of Markarth and public enemy no. 1 to the people of the Reach. Aithne was only twenty-seven and was among the generation that had been born during the conflict that ensued when the late King Madanach retook Markarth. She was also among the generation who are largely orphans because of Ulfric Stormcloak.
"Fair point," Aithne conceded. "But what does it mean?"
Drascua gave her a long look. "I'm not going to tell someone who's bleeding out they're not going to die unless I know for sure that their end is not near."
Was that supposed to be comforting? Aithne didn't think so. "Then I suppose I should ask if I'm going to bleed out?"
"I do not know that yet, child." Drascua admitted. "It's possible, but I cannot prove for certain yet."
Aithne held back a sigh as her gaze narrowed slightly at the hagraven. "You took those samples for personal use, then?"
Drascua actually smirked as much as her wrinkled lips allowed her to. "You're a clever girl when you want to be."
Aithne was not surprised, disappointed, but not surprised. Kora did have the grace to look a tad guilty for not intervening, but it wasn't like the matriarch would listen to her anyway. "Thanks, I think."
"You're welcome." She nodded back to her before turning her attention back to the matter at hand. "For what it's worth, even if you do end up being a- old gods forbid -Dragonborn it just means that you'll be a glorified dragon slayer. Which may be what the Reach needs right now."
Aithne did take comfort in that, especially knowing that Drascua was the last person- or thing -that would say something only to make someone feel better. "Uh… Thank you, for real this time."
"None needed or wanted," the old crone said dismissively, effectively ruining the moment. "It may interest you that we might be able to actually test this theory out though. If we can get it to work."
"It doesn't involve more blood, does it?" Aithne said a little uneasily. She wasn't a stranger to fighting or being hurt, but it was a different situation where she was willingly undergoing it.
Drascua made a low huff, which Aithne had come to associate with irritation. "No, it doesn't. It takes some concentration, I do hope you can manage that."
Aithne did her best to hold her tongue as she nodded her head to answer instead.
"Good. If you can't keep up, Kora will attempt to better elaborate. I haven't the patience to walk you through this." Drascua began as she ran her index claw down the parchment of the paper Kora had of the words from the wall in Ragnvald. "The easiest comparison is that of Ulfric Stormcloak. He possess what the Nords call The Voice. It was what gave him an edge during the Battle for Markarth twenty-five years ago." Aithne flinched slightly as the hagraven's eyes darkened at the memory. "The Voice is an ability where its users speak a word of power, like a spell, but the effects are quite… devastating and one does not have to be a mage to use it. It was, supposedly, passed down by the dragons to humans a long time ago. Though it took years for them to master one word. Unless they were among Akatosh's chosen, the Dragonborns. It is rumored that it takes them moments, because of their dragon blood."
Aithne believed she had actually kept up this time as she nodded. "So, I basically need to see if I can master The Voice?"
"It's not that simple." The hagraven sighed as she folded her thin, clawed hands together with a thoughtful gaze. "I don't know why Dragonborns are able to accelerate their progress, but I imagine it has something to do with what they take from dragons. Some claim that they take their memories, their Voice, and their very souls."
"So… It's like being a soul gem, but for dragons and I'm alive." Aithne quirked a brow, no longer sure if this was going in any direction she was comfortable with. It would explain what happened after the dragon died and why she felt like there was someone, or something, else in her mind.
"If that's how your mind can grasp this concept, then yes." Drascua said as she tapped on the paper. "Furthermore, there were certain words that held that power. I would bet that Kaan is a word of power and you just haven't been able to use it yet."
Kora looked between the matriarch and Aithne. "And how does she use it, though?"
"Well, it's a spoken power so she'll have to say it." Drascua continued. "I believe the correct term is Shouting."
"I have to shout it, then?" Aithne quirked a brow, not entirely convinced.
"Yes." Drascua nodded seriously. "Though obviously there is more to it than that. Magic is a learned practice and I imagine some studying will have to be done on your part."
Aithne wasn't a master in the arts of magic, but she remembered how much work she had put into it to get this far. "Yes, matriarch." She said, knowing when an order was implied and not spoken outright.
"Good." Drascua hummed a slight trill in her voice. "I would also advise against taking anymore potions for the time being unless it becomes unbearable."
That was a harder order to follow, but Aithne nodded dutifully. "As you wish."
The hagraven gave her a dismissive wave. "Be gone with you, then. Kora will continue to see if she can find anything else. I must attend to other matters. You are not the only thing that apparently requires my attention."
Aithne gave her a quick salute before making herself scarce, honestly eager to get away from the matriarch's clutches for awhile. Kora gave Aithne a small nod as she past, but was quickly reabsorbed into her work. Aithne had been supplied with her own small tent, thankfully, that someone had pitched together for her while she was being watched over. It wasn't unusual for those who had the time to spend it helping others out, whether by doing small chores or errands for the camp. As a people, the Forsworn lived and died together. It was their unity that had kept their goal alive of taking the Reach back.
The small pile of mountain flowers right outside it did not go unnoticed. Whoever had set up a small space for Aithne had intended to thank her, though Aithne didn't believe she should be. Had she been on her own, she would've been dead. Even if she was a dragonborn, there was no telling how they would react. She imagined that it would certainly have mixed reactions, some of which certainly wouldn't be pleasant. Sure, there were Nords among their ranks, but not any that could have been considered as a Nordic icon or have an immediate association with Ulfric Stormcloak or Tiber Septim. The only experience her people had with The Voice wasn't pleasant.
Aithne quickly entered the tent and sat down on the small pelt placed there. Ignoring the possible issues her people might have with her felt like the most comfortable choice of action at the moment. Besides, there wasn't any concrete evidence besides what happened with the dragon. Perhaps she could go to the Mage's College and see what they had to say. They were a cynical group and if she showed up claiming to be a Dragonborn they'd probably work their asses off to prove her wrong, which was what she wanted. For now, though, she would try to do that herself. Aithne wasn't sure how she was supposed to practice The Voice, even if it was considered magic. Magic came naturally to her, but it still took years of honing practice, and the occasional meditation. It was relaxing to sit for a few hours, just quietly sorting through her thoughts.
The crackle of fire and the exchanges between the Forsworn set her at ease. Many were telling stories of their fallen comrades' achievements and life. Many were lost though while the conversation was light at times, it was filled with promise and vengeance. Instead of the Nords paying for it, the dragons would. Aithne shouldn't be surprised that the Reachmen had accordingly added slaying dragons in their fight for liberation if any stood in their way. Camp relations between different ones were always great, but internally they were a tight-knit community. Though Aithne could imagine that if there were more dragons than just a few spotted within the Reach, the others would begin to add dragons to their personal agenda.
It was comforting and Aithne didn't realize pressure in her head slipping a deep feeling washed over her. This was her peace. Her Kaan.
/-/
Winterhold was anything but peaceful. In fact, the heart of the disturbances the city faced generally came from the College of Mages. Few ventured that far north into Skyrim, even to learn under the only school of magic within the country because they knew of its rather strained history with the locals. There was almost always something happening because of the school.
Today was no different.
The look Tolfdir gave the four students could have frozen Winterhold over if it wasn't a tundra already. Tadion visibly flinched as the power of Tolfdir's glare landed on him. It didn't help that he was a head taller than the old wizard and yet it was if Tolfdir was looking down on him.
"What. Happened." Tolfdir demanded in a clipped tone that they were not aware the old alteration mage possessed.
"W-well," Brelyna bravely began as she recounted the events that had ended with a rusty old dagger and a missing (but presumed dead) professor. "We thought Arniel Gane knew what he was doing."
"Obviously he did," J'zargo remarked under his breath. Tadion bit the inside of his cheek as he was not the only one of the receiving end of Tolfdir's anger. Although... J'zargo wasn't wrong. Arniel Gane's experiment did work. It was just very unfortunate that it did.
Brelyna elbowed the Khajiit as subtly as she could. Onmund looked like he was about to faint. Tadion thought it would have been fun to see the big Nord more uncomfortable than usual had their magical careers within the College (though possibly their lives) not be at stake. They couldn't be expelled for accessory to... the slightly purposeful disappearance of a professor, could they? Tadion truly hoped that wasn't a thing. From what he had heard before coming was that students, and the occasional professor, either died or went missing due to failed (in this case quite successful) experiments on at least a yearly basis. Surely Tolfdir would treat this as an addition to the statistic.
"What she means, is that we knew what Arniel was doing, but we didn't think he could do it," Tadion explained. "How were we supposed to know that he'd succeed?"
Apparently, that was the wrong answer.
"You knew he was trying to recreate the events that led up to the Dwemer's extinction?" Tolfdir paced as his hands began to clinch with an audible 'pop.' Even J'zargo flinched.
"What were you going to do if it led to our extinction?"
"Well, it only took out one race last time, so..." Tadion gestured to their small, but very diverse group. Brelyna was a Dunmer, Onmund a Nord, and J'zargo was Khajiit. He was an Altmer himself and he doubted his kind would ever leave Tamriel by melodramatic means such as accidental self-annihilation. In his eyes, he had a good chance at survival. Tadion stopped talking as Tolfdir rolled his eyes.
"That was not the point," Tolfdir said sharply. "Experimentation within certain parameters is fine. However, as long as it doesn't result in the loss of one of our staff."
Students were expendable, went unspoken but understood. Tadion began to rethink why he had come to Winterhold, to begin with. Students weren't exactly lining up to freeze their asses off for years and participate in questionable practices, but he supposed, even fewer teachers were willing to either. It would probably take awhile to fill Gane's position.
"Or student." He added in afterthought, but they knew which he was currently more concerned over.
"Of course." They mumbled in reply, trying to look somewhat repentant. Tolfdir gave them a nod after he felt like they were chastised enough.
"Good, you will not be attending lectures this morning." Tolfdir looked more annoyed as the four seemed to be relieved. Why did he give up his pursuit to become a scholar to become a teacher? The younger generations weren't all that appreciative of the knowledge and experience handed down by their senior generations any longer. Though technically Tadion likely had at least a couple of decades on him, he acted as mature as his fellows. "You will be helping me and one of our master wizards study Saarthal today. You will not do anything we don't explicitly instruct. You will not do anything stupid to get I or anyone else killed. Is that understood?"
If there was one thing worse than some of Tolfdir's driest lectures, it had to have been dusting an ancient tomb's broken plates and warding off the occasional draugr. At least there was the potential to use spells in a productive manner other than fending off frostbite.
"Yes, Tolfdir." They chimed somewhat miserably. Tolfdir's expression lightened in the slightest with satisfaction.
The trek to the Nordic ruin started out like usual. First, they made their way through the scarcely populated and supremely superstitious village. The glares and hurried peasants that made the occasional sharp comment to them wasn't atypical. If anything, Winterhold wouldn't be Winterhold if no one spits on them for being mages. J'zargo growled lowly as one 'accidentally' shoved past his shoulder. That was as bad as actual physical aggression got and that was hardly anything to retaliate against. Brelyna rolled her eyes, muttering about "peasants," and recast the flame cloak around her in subtle warning as they continued.
The people of Winterhold were generally good people. Just people who had been through a lot with the College. It took Tadion awhile to truly understand that and not get mad in turn. Did he deserve the mistreatment? No, he hadn't even been in Skyrim long enough to offend anyone. Did the Nords still give him an evil eye nonetheless for being an Altmer and wizard? Yes, but he had a thick skin and an occasionally open mind. Though his fingers did spark when it got particularly upsetting, but it rarely got that far.
The four began making their way across the frozen expanse. Wolves, horkers, and the occasional troll hindered travelers, but the mages found themselves alone as they walked.
"It's too quiet, don't ya think?" Onmund frowned deeply as his eyes wandered over the remains of a few unfortunate trolls who had been frozen solid. All four exchanged glances.
Since when were frost trolls able to be frozen?
"You don't think another mage is out here? Like Nelacar?" Brelyna murmured thoughtfully. "It had to have been a powerful mage, though I don't recall anyone at the College having this kind of affinity for frost magic."
Tadion's voice was muffled by the scarf in front of his face. "I hope it's Nelacar... I really want an excuse to kick his pompous ass."
Nelacar was the second most dreadful non-Thalmor Altmer Tadion ever had the displeasure of dealing with. Tadion could still remember the mage's complete lack of cooperation when they dealt with Azura's broken star.
"Do you think muscling me is going to work? I'm a wizard. An old. Elven. Wizard. Think about it." Nelacar had jabbed that particularly at Tadion himself and it still boiled his blood thinking about. There was nothing like two Altmer wizards trying to prove one's better than the other.
"J'zargo was impressed he wasn't intimidated by novice mages." The Khajiit said sarcastically.
"I'm not a novice!" Tadion snapped as another sharp wind blew, making him shiver past the enchantments on his robes.
"That's what a novice would say." Brelyna pointed out cheekily.
"I'm a novice.." Onmund frowned in reluctant agreement.
"At least the Nord admits it." J'zargo huffed in amusement.
"If you weren't considered a novice, you wouldn't have been put with us," Brelyna said matter-of-factly.
Tadion rolled his brown eyes. "I've studied at some of the most prestigious schools under the Aldmeri Dominion. I. Am. Not. A novice."
"Yet you're here in the backend of Skyrim as a destruction novice." Tadion didn't have to look to see her smirk and decided to just quietly concede.
Tadion might not be the best at the destruction and enchantment schools of magic but the rest he was pretty adept at. He had left the Summer Set Isles to see if training under a completely different school would help, or so he told himself. It also might have something to do with the Aldmeri Dominion itself and how his family was completely blinded by the elven supremacy and racism within the Thalmor.
Gods.. It made him sick thinking that his family could be counted among the Thalmor. The same elves that would see J'zargo and all Khajiit enslaved because they're one of the 'beast races,' despite being their allies. That Nords like Onmund who'd readily fight in defense for their beloved Empire be executed. Or even Brelyna would probably be either forced to join the Thalmor or be killed because she was a Dunmer and not the 'proper race of elf.'
Even Tadion was under scrutiny. A son from the House of Vatour that had heralded great war heroes and mages alike wasn't Altmer enough because he couldn't master magic as well as his peers. Granted it hadn't helped that his brother ran off to the Empire to do gods-know-what with gods-know-who, but he would still be welcome home. He was a war hero and Tadion was pretty positive that if he came back, the Thalmor would take him in with open arms. Despite his brother's lack of loyalty, he was powerful and the Thalmor feared it. Then there was his perfect sister. She was an astounding sorceress since she was young and now she's a newly promoted Justicar. And here Tadion was, the youngest and somehow most disappointing, in the shadow cast by his siblings because the Gods probably hated him.
In the shadow... Tadion's eyes widened as he snapped out of his reverie. That's a big-ass shadow, he thought with alarm.
"Is that.." Onmund's deep voice cracked as they collectively looked up and saw the giant creature soaring above them. "A dragon?"
"It looks like a fucking dragon," Brelyna looked horrified as she glanced between her companions and said rapidly approaching dragon. "What the hell are we supposed to do, we're novices?"
"Uh... J'zargo will see you at Saarthal, friends!" The Khajiit said and quickly started making his way down the path with a speed that was a hallmark of his race.
"WAIT FOR ME," Onmund shouted as he pushed past Brelyna and Tadion while also yelling other unintelligible noises, mostly at the two that abandoned them.
Tadion and Brelyna took cover as the dragon swooped down menacingly. "Well... If we go different ways it'll probably go after one of us, right?" She suggested as Tadion nodded. "Run on three?" Tadion nodded again.
"One, two-" The dragon's roar drowned out Tadion's angry yelling as Brelyna took a head start. Tadion left the cover of the rock and started sprinting as the dragon breathed a trail of frost near them.
Tadion was many things. He was an apparent novice in destruction. He was a disappointment to his family. However, he was also vengeful, smart and really good at illusion spells. Tadion didn't feel a shred of remorse as he cast the strongest invisibility spell he could over himself. Brelyna would hopefully live to think twice about crossing him again in the future as he managed to easily evade the dragon's attacks once it began to focus on the Dunmer.
Hopefully, but not probably. Tadion thought as he took a different direction and left Brelyna and the dragon.
It took awhile to reach Saarthal once he managed to completely evade the dragon. He had ended up making a wrong turn or two, but he found his way back to the path and continued to the ruin. Tadion was not surprised to see Onmund and J'zargo already there. Tolfdir was also at the entrance, looking unamused.
"I don't suppose you took the scenic route here too?" The professor asked.
"I might have gone the wrong way.." Tadion said before apologizing. "I'm sorry, professor."
"Oh, did you see the dragon too?" Sarcasm really didn't suite the old professor well.
Tadion nodded hesitantly as the old man rolled his eyes.
"I'll give you all credit for creativity at least. I had one group of students once claim that they ran into a pack giants and that's why there were late." Tolfdir rolled his eyes. "Good to know that some things never change." He sighed as Brelyna staggered down the stairs.
"Pr-professor!" Brelyna gasped as she leaned against the wall. "There's a-"
"Dragon. Rumor mill works fast, apparently."Tolfdir sighed, but he did give her a skeptical once-over. Her age robes were tattered more than they had been before and she did look like she came out of a losing battle.
"What.. What are we going to do about it?" Brelyna asked anxiously, her red eyes wide.
Tolfdir's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "If we encounter an extinct species I'll let you know. Until such time, I expect all of you to be in Saarthal, helping me and the other professors out since you all had the good sense to help one exterminate himself."
They reluctantly began collecting samples and sifting through rubble.
"This isn't right," Onmund muttered to himself. "Going through the remains of my dead kin. We should leave them be."
"You know what else isn't right?" Tadion glared over at him. "Leaving your friends to face a dragon by themselves."
Brelyna snorted as she sat down on one of the larger pieces of debris with an exhausted sigh. "Says you… the all-powerful Altmer who left me behind to nearly get killed by that thing."
"Well you got a head start, so I frankly don't care." Tadion huffed as he set aside another stupid plate that held no meaning or value but was still one of the most common items found in Nordic ruins. He would chide J'Zargo, but after the incident that occurred when they found the dagger for Arniel Gane, he was sure the Khajiit was immune.
"J'Zargo apologizes to his friends… Surely they understand." Said Khajiit looked the slightest bit sheepish. "Though J'Zargo is curious how his Dunmer lady-friend got away? Did you kill the dragon?"
Brelyna glared at his comment but continued anyway. "No. I blinded the dragon when it tried to freeze me with as much fire as I could muster in the heat of the moment. I promptly ran before it got the chance to return the favor… I just hope it stays out here, away from Winterhold. Azura knows they'd blame us for the return of the dragons."
"Return of the dragons, that's something out of legend. Besides, everyone knows that the only way to kill a dragon is by being a Dovahkiin." Onmund said with an awed look. "You know if the dragons really are returning and this isn't a freak incident… What if one of us is the Dragonborn? What if I am?"
J'Zargo rolled his eyes. "Nords and their Nordic legends, their Nordic heroes... I doubt the Dragonborn would've run off in the face of a dragon."
"What if it's because I'm a novice Dragonborn?" Onmund shot back with a pleased look.
"Then we're all doomed." Tolfdir intervened with a grim look, practically making the mages present jump to attention. "Dragons have been gone for millennia and the last known Dragonborn ended with the Septim dynasty over two hundred years ago."
"I swear to you that we saw one, professor." Brelyna pleaded as she got up. Tolfdir sighed as his resolve seemed to soften a bit. "It nearly killed us."
"You all will need to give your accounts to the Arch-Mage. If it poses a threat to the College or Winterhold, he will want to take matters into his own hands." Tolfdir decided. If they were lying, Savos Aren could handle it himself. "We have a couple of things to look into here still, two of you will report back to the Arch-Mage now to give your accounts of what happened. A professor will go as well, though I expect them to be alive when they reach the College this time."
Tolfdir still hadn't forgotten about Arniel Gane yet. Granted the incident had only occurred yesterday.
"Of course." They all nodded quickly, though they didn't like their odds. What if they ran into the dragon again?
Tolfdir ended up deciding to let J'Zargo and Tadion go, but where accompanied by one of the scholars, Nirya. Despite being a fellow Altmer, Tadion found her to be a little too much to handle during most occasions.
Oh, you're from the House of Vatour? Oh, is your older brother still single? If I lived in Alinor, I would've let my family arrange a marriage between us. I've heard Ancano speak of your sister often. Are they an item? No? Good. He's a rather attractive man, isn't he?
That was just among the first interactions Tadion had the displeasure of having with her. He shouldn't have been surprised that Nirya would know of his family since she was originally from the Summer Set Isles, but it was mostly due to wishful thinking. Shadows, it seemed, were a lot harder to get out of than he imagined.
Upon arriving, Ancano the Thalmor-Advisor barely paid them any mind. Though Tadion would be surprised if the "advisor" reported what he did to his sister. He wasn't familiar with how their hierarchy worked for the most part, but his sister was nothing if not resourceful and had a tendency to be apart of his business whether or not he wanted her to be. Ancano brushed past them and they went up to the Arch-Mage's rooms. Nirya left with a soft sigh as she allowed them to continue without her. More than likely so she could bother the Thalmor, which was fine with Tadion and J'Zargo.
The Arch-Mage was a decent man and rumored to be a mage of exceptional talent. He was also a skeptic and gave them both degrees of a weathering look. "You claim you both saw a dragon?"
They both nodded earnestly. "J'Zargo was nearly turned into Khajiit-sickle."
"I can attest to that. It flew back north after it attacked Brelyna while we were on our way to Saarthal." Tadion nodded as well.
"Saarthal…" The old Dunmer's eyes narrowed as he looked between them. "You all wouldn't happen to be the students who helped Arniel Gane with his misguided endeavor, are you?"
Tentatively, they nodded as the Arch-Mage sighed with trepidation. Tolfdir's wrath was one thing, Savos Aren's was probably a different story if he was genuinely upset. However, he seemed more annoyed than anything.
"Well, I will deal with this. Perhaps we should keep this matter to ourselves and not our… Thalmor friend, yes?" Savos said with a quirked brow, looking pleased again as the two students agreed. The Arch-Mage put up with a lot of shit from the Thalmor Advisor, he didn't want to give him a reason to invite more Thalmor to his college. One was bad enough.
He quickly dismissed the students. Though if dragons were real, they had more problems on their hands than just the Thalmor.
Notes for this chapter:
Just to make sure it's clear, when Aithne was suppressing the connection between the dragon soul she had and the word, she was blocking it from becoming Thu'um.
Drascua is not an expert when it comes to dragons or Dragonborns and so most of her opinions are mere speculation and not complete or entirely correct. Though a lot of information on Dragonborns can be found if you know where to look.
Aithne also mentions she's in her twenties. Twenty-seven years ago Madanach retook Markarth and ruled PEACEFULLY for two years before Ulfric Stormcloak laid siege to Markarth. Once Ulfric had the city he slaughtered everyone (including innocent Nords, elders, older children, women, and men) who did not help them. You can imagine that the Reachmen where pretty pissed off and still are years later. No I am not pulling this out of nowhere. This is legitimately canon. Please read "The Bear of Markarth." It's an in-game book all about what happened. And also note that everyone is under the impression that Madanach is dead because he's been imprisoned for so long, only his closest agents know he's alive.
Up Next… Savos Aren would be correct. There are more problems than just the Thalmor when his students discover that there is more under Saarthal and the College is graced with the presence of a Dragonborn. Though whether she will help solve some of their problems or make it worse is hard to tell.