A/N: This will probably be edited more at a later date, but as of now, it is as it will be. Thank you zack32 for allowing me to use your character, as I said before, I am not used to people giving me that much detail about their characters. Your character is also the first that I have gotten, that isn't completely depressed and hates the Empire. Not opposed to characters like that if anyone wants to let me use a character like that, but it is refreshing to have more diversity.

This story is also posted on archiveofourown. My name there is AllTheKingsHorsesAndAllTheKingsMen.

- Disclaimer: I do not own anything that has to do with the Elder Scrolls games or with the MCU. I did create the OC Alva. Darius Caro belongs to zack32.

- Rated: T

- Warnings: Violence, Adult Language, Sexual Themes, Character Death, OCs, Gore, Homosexuality, Bisexuality, Alcoholism, Underage Drinking, Mentioned Underage Sex, Mentioned Rape, Mentioned Genocide, Racism, Sexism, War, Child Abuse, Mentioned Child Abuse, Other Warnings/Tags To Be Added

- Written: Hell if I know.

- Edited: September 21st-24th, 2018

- Chapter:

"Speaking"
Thoughts

Dreaming
"Dream Speaking"
Memories

"Memory Speaking"

Chapter One

Darius turned his head up towards the door when it creaked open and Alva stepped into his room at The Bannered Mare. She offered him a small smile in greeting, which he returned and set the book he had been reading in his lap. The dismal light that the candle near him and the torch near her gave off, made his brown eyes appear black and cast odd shadows across his olive skin that almost made him look tired. The shadows also made it seem like his short beard went down his neck when it actually ended just below his jawline.

The last time they met was several days ago when they were going over more of his notes on the Falmer before the war with the Atmorans. The plan to summon Odahviing was going to happen and she wanted to correct some of the misinformation that had been gathered on her people, just in case she didn't come back. He was a good scholar but there were some things that were too lost in time for him to get correct without help.

His armor was safely tucked away in the chest at the foot of his bed, leaving him wearing a light brown tunic and trousers.

Darius had become a good person to talk when she needed information. He was excellent at discovering things that no one else could, and his laid-back attitude towards most people and creatures enabled him to find things that most people wouldn't bother looking into, because they thought that the source wasn't reliable enough or they were too blinded by prejudice to even consider using certain sources.

"Where can we meet again if I come back."

He was silent for a moment in thought. "You like to go to The Bee and Barb, right?"

She nodded once.

"Then that's where I'll be a month from now."

"What if time runs differently where I end up?"

"Then I will show up on the first of every month." He closed the book and set it on the nightstand next to his chair. "You never did tell me where you were going to try and go."

"Nordic ruins, as long as I can get this dragon to bring me." She replied. "From there? Sovengarde."

"How are you going to do that?" He raised a dark brow at her. "Die? If that's the plan, how do you know that's where you'd go?"

"I hope not, and I don't know." Alva shrugged. "That does bring up the question of where a mixed race person goes after death."

Darius leaned back in his chair. "I'm sure there's more to it than race. It's been said that those who serve the Dark Brotherhood end up serving Sithis in death."

"Selling one's soul is different. I am not a Daedric Prince's champion."

"Sithis isn't a Daedric Prince."

She gave him a dull look. "That's not my point."

He shrugged. "That's something that we can get into if you come back."

For a moment, Alva was silent. There was a good chance that she wasn't going to return from this alive.

"If I don't return within a year, I have a friend Winterhold that has some things for you. Books and translations, a few paintings and drawings, a set of armor, and a map."

He gave her a confused stare. "Why? Even though we're on friendly enough terms, we're not friends."

"You're the only person that I trust to write the truth about my people." She answered simply. "You crave knowledge, not the fame it could give you. You ask expensive questions to make sure you have a good understanding of various things. I hope that one day, those of us that are still here will return to the light again. When that happens, I would like them to see that there are other things written about them, other than just the horror's of the war or of the creatures most of us became. I trust that you will put the knowledge that I have to good use."

It was Darius' turn to fall silent. She could see that he wasn't expecting her to have left him anything in the event of her death. In the short time that they've known each other, she's found that he's a good man that seeks answers to questions that have been left unanswered for centuries. He will put those things to good use, should she not come back.

"Wait," He leaned forward and held a hand up. "If you don't come back after a year, I go to Winterhold, find your friend, and get documents that other scholars would only dream of having. What happens if you come back?"

"Then we keep doing what we have been. You ask questions, I answer. I come across something that I don't understand and I bring it to you for answers. When the next winter comes, I'll give you those things anyway and I will accompany you to the locations on the map."

"Just like that? You're extremely trusting."

"I haven't seen anything from you that would suggest I can't trust you. That, and I also don't know what my lifespan will be. I'm old compared to how long your kind lives, young by my mother's kind. Who knows which of their lifespans I've inherited, or if it's a mix."

"And you're the only one that's come back out of the rest." He said with a small nod. "Which makes me think the map has locations where your people are living. You want me to try and get them to come back like you did if you don't make it back to do it yourself."

She offered a smile. "The armor and other documents will help them to know that I sent you. I want you to wait a year because, in that time, I believe the war will be over and, hopefully, the dragons won't be following Alduin any longer. I don't want them to come back to our lands when they're being torn apart."

"I hope you're still going to let me come with you to see that dragon you're going to summon tomorrow. Especially if you're expecting all that from me if you die."

"Does that mean you'll do it?"

Darius gave her a small nod. "Might as well. I have a lot more questions about the Falmer and what they know."

"Then my next question is: Are you sure that you want to be that close to something that's been attacking people all over Skyrim?" She crossed her arms and leaned her back against the closed door. "From what I've been told, he's Alduin's right-hand ma-.. dragon."

"That only makes me want to see him more. Do you realize how rare of an opportunity this is? When I first met you, I thought you were a grave robber. I never thought that I would have the chance to study anything like this. Not this closely, at least. There are so many unknowns when it comes to Alduin's history and his connection to the Gods, and the same can be said about your people. I don't know a single person that can say they've met a true Falmer."

"The Betrayed are 'true Falmer' as well. More so than I am, even." She paused. "And what are you talking about? Everyone in Whiterun has met me."

"Maybe, but I can't exactly walk into a village of theirs and not expect a sword to the chest." He pointed out. "You're one of the closest things there is to be able to understand how the Falmer were before they became what you call 'The Betrayed'. As far as the people that have met you? How many of them actually know what you are?"

"All right, good point."

He shook his head. "Anyway, about bringing me to see the dragon..?"

She smiled. "Yes, Darius, I will bring you to see the dragon."

There was a peculiar noise that rang in her ears when she came to. The only thing that came to mind was the sound that some Dwarven machines made as their cogs moved within, and yet it sounded nothing like that. This was much higher in pitch and she didn't smell the oil that came along with those machines. She opened her eyes after a few more moments of listening to the sound and was met with a dim lit room and a metal ceiling. Her brow furrowed as she stared up. The metal looked far too refined to have been anything that she had seen from Skyrim and definitely from Raven Rock.

Blinking once, Alva gently pushed herself up and took in the rest of her surroundings. The room itself was made of metal, like the ceiling, though there was a mirror nearly covering the entire wall in front of her.

She cocked her head slightly, looking at her own reflection in the darkened mirror. Her snow white skin wasn't nearly as filthy as it should have been, and she had a long slash from the bridge of her nose, near her pale green eye, all the way to her jawline on the right side. Her long white hair was unbraided, allowing it to brush along the back of her hands and was missing the beads that it should have had in it. She glanced down at herself when she saw that, in her reflection, she was not wearing her armor. Instead, she was wearing some type of covering that was a cream color-

What is that thing around her finger? Her head tilted again as she reached for it with her left hand, only to stop short when the door to the room opened abruptly.

Her eyes shot up as a man and a woman stepped inside. The man, who was donning some kind of black leather outfit and an eyepatch, seemed to be a Redgard. The woman wore a tight black outfit with some symbol on the shoulders that she couldn't see at this angle. Alva couldn't decide if this woman resembled an Imperial or a Nord. She carried herself like many Imperials and yet, her appearance was closer to that of a Nords. She was shorter than any Nordic woman that she had ever met before, so perhaps she was a mixed race as well? One of her parents could be a Brenton.

For several long moments, neither Alva nor these two spoke. They seemed to be studying her just as she was doing with them. The man appeared to be the one in charge, with how he was standing just slightly ahead of the woman. His face was expressionless and his stance was rigid. He was ready to move at a moments notice, should something happen. The woman was almost the exact same, only her expression looked to be slightly more open and approachable.

When Alva was about to break the tense silence and ask where she was, the man spoke.

"Would you care to tell me who you are?" He questioned, voice hard and eyes cold while he clasped his hands behind his back.

The words sounded unusual to her and she couldn't place where she might have heard this language before. It didn't sound like anything one of the men, mer, or beast races would use. Her mouth dropped open slightly when she realized, that while she had never heard this language before, she had understood every word of it clearly.

"Are you going to answer me?" The man asked, his eyes narrowing slightly at her.

"W-" Alva began, stopping when she felt the word on her tongue, grimacing slightly. Trying to ignore how she could understand and seem to speak a language she had never heard before, she opened her mouth to try and continue.

"Do you know what we're saying?" He then asked.

This wasn't a time to freeze up and quietly question everything that was around her. "Alva." She finally said, attempting to ignore how the words felt on her tongue. At least she got her name out.

"Alva? Is that your name?" The man questioned as if it had been a lie, or maybe like he wasn't sure if it was a name or a word to her. She nodded once. "What is it that you're doing here?"

"Is-is this not Tamriel?" Alva asked slowly, taking a quick glance around the room.

"Sounds like a place Thor might know." The woman said, speaking for the first time. Her voice sounded just as cold as this man's eyes looked.

"Where am I?" Alva finally blurted out just as the man turned to the woman. "And who are you?"

He turned back to her. "I am Director Fury of S.H.I.E.L.D.-"

"Is S.H.I.E.L.D. connected to the Blades?" Alva asked hopefully, cutting off the man and causing him to glare at her.

"No." He answered simply. Alva's shoulders slumped slightly as she leaned back against the wall.

"Fury." The woman said, making the man look at her.

She gave him a small nod and gestured towards the door. He returned the nod and left the room. For a moment there was silence, then she walked over to Alva, halting at the end of the bed.

"Who are the Blades?" She asked.

Alva looked at her for a few, soundless moments. "Where am I? If you do not know the Blades, then I can't imagine that I have returned to Tamriel as I was meant to."

"You're on a planet known as Earth. Some call it Midgard, but those who do are not usually from here." She answered. "My name is Natasha, by the way. Who are the Blades?" She asked again.

"For much of their history, they were the protectors the Emperors who have ruled over Tamriel. In the First Era, they were dragon hunters and became dragon hunters once more after Alduin's return."

"So what are you?" She then asked, pointing to her ears.

"I am a mixed race," Alva responded. "My mother was an elf, my father a Nord." She paused and then spoke again. "In my braids, I had some beads and I also wore a silver necklace with an emerald fixed to it."

Natasha nodded. "They're with your armor and weapons."

"That set of armor and my weapons have been in my family for centuries, so I would appreciate if I may have them back."

"We can't do that just yet," Natasha said with a shake of her head. "We have to be sure that you are not a threat to us."

Alva sighed but nodded. "At least you are not sending me to the chopping block without knowing." Natasha raised a brow. "My first encounter with the Empire ended with them believing me to be a Stormcloak and they did not care to know I wasn't. The Empire tends to do away with anyone suspected of being a Stormcloak without a second thought."

"We don't operate that way." The woman said with a shake of her head. "As long as you are no threat, your armor, and weapons with be returned to you and we will try and get you back to where you belong."

"I feel as though one of, if not several, of the gods, decided that I belonged here for some reason," Alva said quietly. "Hopefully, Skyrim can do without me for the time being."

"Are you a leader?" Natasha asked.

Alva slowly stood from the bed and looked over the strange gown or tunic that she had been put in. She felt it open in the back and the fabric felt thinner than anything she had ever felt. It was… strange and slightly scratchy. Natasha seemed to notice this.

"It's called a hospital gown. They're like that because it's easier to get on and off a patient."

"That is not a bad idea. I will have to tell the mages at the temples of this." Alva then shook her head. "I'm a warrior. I defend many throughout Skyrim and I dread that in my absence, something might happen them." She looked back at the other woman. "May I at least have my beads and necklace back?" She asked. "As well as clothing that is not open in the back? I feel as though I am wearing little more than an apron."

Natasha smiled and nodded. "I'll see what I can do." She said as she turned and left the room.

Alva watched her leave and sighed as he sat back down on the bed. The fabric was rough, though it felt considerably softer than the burlap that she was accustomed to when it came to beds. She couldn't help but feel uneasy with the room she was in. Whenever she had woken up before after being injured, she had almost always been in a room that was lit by fire, the smell of smoke and herbs in the air and the sound of someone that she trusted moving around. Occasionally a wet, warm nose would be pressed into the back of her palm from the dog that she'd kept when she left the Dawnguard.

She had no idea what she could smell in the air, the room was dim, yes, but not like it would be with a single fire and a few candles spread about. This light wasn't orange and warm, it was white and harsh. She didn't know who those two people were and she did not trust either of them. The woman reminded her of an assassin from the Dark Brotherhood and the man reminded her of both Tullius and Ulfric.

Her thoughts turned back to Skyrim and the war. Did time run differently here? It felt like it did in Sovngarde. If that was the case, how much time had passed already? Was the war over? Did a new era begin? What about her family and friends and allies? Paarthurnax would be wondering what happened to her in Sovngarde, Darius was awaiting her return to ask her questions about where Odahviing had taken her, she promised, which she really should have waited to see if she would even survive to make such a promise, the argonians at the docks in Windhelm her help with their living conditions, as she also did with the Dunmer in the Gray Quarter-

There was a small knock on the door that took her from her thoughts. Standing, she turned towards the door and called out to whoever was on the other side to come in. There was silence for a moment as the door stayed shut before it finally opened and a blond man walked into the room carrying what looked like a satchel on his shoulder. He looked at her and gave a small, friendly smile.

"Umm, hi, I'm Steve." He said, his tone and the way he held himself told her he didn't really know what to do at this moment. "I brought you some clothes." He stood there for a second before he walked towards her, his steps careful like he was judging how she would react to him getting closer to her.

When he held his hand out towards her, she looked down at it and then looked back up at him with a questioning stare.

"You don't do this where you're from, do you?"

"Is this some sort of greeting?"

He nodded once. "When people meet for the first time, it's pretty common to shake hands." He dropped his.

"Many warriors that I've met tend to grasp forearms as a greeting. When meeting or speaking to a higher ranking officer or noble, bowing our heads is common. Depending on the country, when meeting a royal, we kneel and bow our heads." She stepped closer and held out her hand.

When he brought his hand back up, she took it in hers and shook it, making their arms go up a little high. Judging from the small, badly suppressed grin of amusement, she guessed she did it wrong.

"Was that not right?"

"Not exactly. I mean, you got the general idea of it, but you shook a little harshly." He repeated the motion, using mostly their wrists and a firm grip.

"Ah, I see. What are you? Warrior, noble, royal?"

"I'm a soldier." He answered. "I'm guessing you are too?"

"In this instance, that is the closest thing to what I am."

She let go of his hand and took his forearm, waiting for him to take hers and then squeezed. When he returned the action, she let go.

"What do you mean the closest?" He tilted his head slightly.

"I am not a mercenary, not a bandit. I don't fight for a king or a side. I am a warrior for those who need one, regardless of what side of the battle they are from, but many would not call me that."

"What would they call you?"

"Most would call me a renegade in nicer terms. Other's outright call me a traitor."

"I'm sorry."

"For?"

He shrugged. "That people do that. From what it sounds like, you don't let either side tell you who you can or can't help just because of who they are."

"You don't have to apologize for something that others do. It is just a fact of life."

"Yeah, here a lot of people will do that. It's not so much about apologizing for other people, as it is sympathizing."

"I see."

He slipped the bag off his shoulder and set it on the bed, then reached into his pocket. "Your necklace in is there, too, and I have your beads here." He said, pulling a strange clear pouch out of his pocket.

Alva tilted her head slightly, her brow furrowed in confusion. "What manner of a bag is that?" She asked after he set it on the bed next to the satchel.

He smiled. "I had the same question when I first saw them. They're targeted at food, but they can be used for pretty much anything that will fit. They're waterproof and good for organizing small things."

"Are you not from this world either?" She then asked. She wouldn't have guessed that he wasn't from this place but, then again, he could have simply been here longer and learned their ways.

He was friendlier than the other two, his blue eyes holding kindness with a touch of caution, instead of outright suspicion.

"No, I'm from here. I just… grew up differently than most." He put his hands into his pockets. "Well, I'll let you get changed." He turned and stepped back towards the door.

"I'm sure your companions have already told you my name, however, I believe that it is best for someone to introduce themselves." She stated, causing him to stop and look back at her. "I'm Alva."

He smiled again and gave another nod. "I agree with that. It's nice to meet you, Alva."

Once he had walked out and closed the door behind himself, Alva stepped to the foot of the bed and opened the satchel he had left there for her. She turned it over and emptied out its contents onto the bed. The clothing was a light grey color and looked to be loose fitting. A pair of shoes also tumbled out of the bag, one dropping to the floor with a soft thump. She removed what she was wearing and draped it over the side of the bed, then reached for the trousers and felt them for a moment.

The cloth felt like cotton, but the lining was far softer than any cloth she had felt before.

Pulling them on was a little strange, becoming used to the fabric was easy enough, it felt pleasant against her skin and the waistband didn't require her to tighten it herself, instead, it stretched with her body and gripped her hips on its own.

She picked up the shirt next, which felt like it was made from the same grey fabric that the pants were and pulled that over her head. Just like the waistband of the trousers, the sleeves also gripped her wrists without any laces.

Next came the shoes, which were a darker grey than the clothes were and the only things that had something she recognized, laces. After she picked up the shoe that had fallen to the floor, she sat back on the bed and slipped them on, quickly tying the laces.

The door opened again, making her flinch and jump to her feet and spin around, too caught up in the strange garments to pay closer attention to her surroundings. Natasha walked back into the room.

"Sorry." She said, holding her hands up slightly. "Didn't mean to startle you."

Alva shook her head. "It's all right. Is anything wrong?"

Natasha shook her head. "No. My friends and I would just like to ask you some questions if you're done."

She gave the other woman a small nod and grabbed the pouch containing her beads and slowly walked over to the woman. Both of them were silent as Alva followed Natasha through the strange building.

Most people were wearing the same black uniform with a bird symbol on the shoulders that reminded her of what the Nightingales wear. Everything appeared to be made from metal and glass, which made her wonder just how long it would have taken to work all of this metal into place.

"I take it you don't have anything like this where you're from?" Natasha asked.

"Actually, yes, we do." She gave the other woman a small nod. "The metal here looks far more refined than what we have, but all of this resembles something that the Dwemer would have created. Their technology, metalwork, science, magic, among many other things, were far more advanced than any other civilization during their time. I imagine that, if they had survived, they would have made advances that would have changed my world. Perhaps my world would have looked similar to this." She shrugged slightly. "That is if they decided to share it. They were extremely secretive and rarely left their home to mingle among the rest of us."

"We have people like that here."

"I believe there is not one place that doesn't." She shrugged. "There will always be those who prefer to live separately, in either their own communities or completely alone."

"What kind of community are you from?"

"I suppose that you could say that my kind is rather nomadic, now." She crossed her arms loosely. "We have permanent villages, where we live during the summer months but we spend most of our time traveling the rest of the year."

"Where do you travel to?"

"Temples and ruins. We used to have a ritual for those that sought enlightenment through religion, that involved going to various wayshrines before they would be allowed into a temple. Now it is something that we do to be closer to our ancestors and so see how they once lived." She explained, turning her eyes to Natasha while she spoke. "Do your people do anything similar?"

"Some." She gave a nod. "We call them archeologists. They study ancient civilizations."

"For us, it's mostly mages that do that. Though, most of them only care if it could lead them to new magic or a better understanding of what they already know. We have historians who study the actual civilizations. I wouldn't recommend talking to most of the ones that I know. They are either rude or... really they are just rude. I've never had someone follow me around a library because I, apparently, wasn't holding one of his prized books right." She rolled her eyes.

He actually kind of reminded her of Darius. He was easier to get along with, yes, but he was still a little anxious when it came to her handling old documents and books that he had. She understood his worry behind it, though. Some of the things that he had in his possession were far rarer than he thought they were and she would probably feel the same way if their positions were reversed, and she didn't know how careful he was. The way he acted when some of the books, was like watching a parent taking care of a sick child. The thought of it made her smile slightly and shake her head.

"Why are you smiling?"

She looked at Natasha again. "Oh, I just reminded myself of someone that I know. He's a scholar a little like that librarian, just less... rough. When he first let me take a look at an old book he had, he almost paced a hole through the floor while I read it. The pages were cracked, the binding almost non-existent, the ink was faded, the leather was peeling. The only reason he even let me touch it was because he couldn't read it and I could."

Natasha gave a small smile. "I've known more than my fair share of people like both of them." She stopped at a door and turned to Alva. "We're here. You'll meet the rest of the team inside,"

"How many of you are there?"

"Six on the team, not including Director Fury." She turned around and pressed her palm to something on the right side of the door before it slid open and she walked in, Alva following behind.

-End-Of-Chapter-

Current A/N: The following message until you see _END OF REPEAT_ is a repeat of the last chapters AN.

Previous A/N: I would like to take this moment to ask any readers that want to, to give me some OCs to use in this story. I've done it in the past, asking my readers this, and I really liked the challenge that it gave me in my writing.

The characters can either be for the MCU or Skyrim and can even be involved with any of the characters in any way, my OC Alva included. They can be romantically involved now or previously, they can be family, friends, enemies, other. They can have any position in the game that is available for the Dragonborn, such as the Arch-Mage, Listener, Harbinger of the Companions, and so on, or they can have another position that you choose, such as a shop owner, bandit, pirate, prisoner, anything else really. Your character can even be a soul from the Void like Lucien Lachance to a soul from other afterlives, a dragon or other monster/summon, so long as they can speak. This means no trolls, bears, other animals and creatures like them. Characters can have an animal/monster follower/summon.

If anyone does decides to let me use their character(s), you can add more than one, this is what I need. Not everything has to be filled in, only the ones with the * next to them.

*Name:

Also known as:

*Age:

*Sex:

*Role (What they are in either the Elder Scrolls or MCU. Dragonborn is taken, everything else is open.):

*Nationality (If the character doesn't know, like Rune, that's fine.):

*Species/Race:

*Languages:

*Race/Skin/Scales/Whatever Tone:

*Hair/Horns:

*Eyes:

*Height:

*Weight:

*Sexuality:

Tattoo's/Scars:

Family:

Other Relationships:

*Personality:

*Background:

Stormcloaks, Imperials, or Undecided and reason:

_END OF REPEAT_

Current A/N: Well, that is all for this chapter. Again I would like to thank zack32 for the use of his character, and I welcome any other characters that others would let me use. The next few chapters will be Alva getting settled in the MCU, so not much in the way of plot.