honestly guys, thank you for the fav's and the follow. it means a lot to me, and i hope i don't disappoint anyone? even though i already know i probably will?
i know this is a slow burning story, but i really wanna put a lot of thought and effort into this, and try to make it as original as possible, which i'm hoping it's working.
as for a few answers for unasked questions: Nilawen is her name. she is part breton and bosmer, which isn't a mix a see a lot, but i thought it was really cute. i love tiny people who can kick ass, but that's probably because i'm one of them. yes, she seems a little depressing and suicidal and confused, but i wanted to make her as realistic as possible and make the whole story very immersive, so i wanted to add a character of someone who's very messed up by all the events she went through, and the fact that she will never truly find peace in any world, not even for herself. i realize the daedric prince is in this a lot, but i thought it was a cleaver idea on why she's there or how she got there, and i really liked mora? i wish he would of gotten more screen-time, i just hope i'm doing okay.
if i mess up on anything, please don't be afraid to let me know!
Chapter Two: The Edge of Night.
For once, the forest was silent, and it was a quiet that made the Dragonborn feel completely alone. But, as she lay sprawled out on the cold ground, a wall of snow surrounding her fallen body and her sword prodding from a nearby tree trunk, a large branch had fallen not too far from beside her, she realized that the forest had become slightly destroyed. She couldn't see anything except for the sky above her – the cold, wet, stormy sky reflecting in her icy blue eyes, and the snow had begun to seep through cracks in her armor to soak her clothes, her brown hair sprawled out around her head like a high crown set for a glorious king. But was not that, in fact she was nothing, as clouds of warmth puffed from her mouth with each heavy breath she took, her ribs shaking with expansion. It was quite pathetic; the mighty Dragonborn disarmed, broken and beaten on the forest floor. What price would some people pay to see this dishonorable sight? Probably a pretty piece of gold. "Look at you," she flinched, her brow twitching as though it would protect her against the world. God, how she had come to hate that voice or any one that resembled it. "So, so, pathetic. You're about as destroyed as your cute little cabin."
Did he even know what the meaning of cute was?
Lifting her head slightly, she groaned as she caught sight of the destroyed home. It was completely in rubble, her belonging strewn everywhere across the forest, and she just laid herself back down flat. There went that. How long would it even take her to rebuild it? Divines, she didn't want to know. "Why can't you just leave me alone?" She choked, lifting her head once more in feeble attempt to look at Hermaeus, but she was so sore, she didn't even want to breath. That's what she gets for picking a fight with a Daedric Prince – thrown through her wall, against trees and hung over a mountain side for a split second (she could still feel the heat and the indent from where his tendril was wrapped around her throat). How foolish she was, but she could slowly feel her humanity slipping away from her grasp more and more as time went on, and the Dovah blood slowly taking over her. It made it hard for her to keep her temper down at times, and it caused her to react rashly to even some of the smallest things. She didn't mean it, never, and a part of her wanted to locked herself away in ruins far from civilization, maybe over on Solstheim where she couldn't hurt anyone except for herself. She used to be so kind, so forgiving, had such patience, and cared for everyone she met. Now she wanted to shut out the world in fear of slaughtering someone who simply looked at her wrong. Maybe she needed to spend a few months at the Throat of The World with Parthunaax… or maybe she needed to stay there for eternity.
"Who are you?" He asked, his golden eye staring down at her in disgust. He watched her body lay limp in the snow, and to anyone who didn't know better would assume her to be dead. Her gaze to the sky was blank and far away, glazed over as though she were picturing her own death. Hermaeus wouldn't be surprised if she was. Asking once more, he was met with the same silence. Sighing from what mouth, his tendril shot out and wrapped around her throat once more, causing her to yelp as he picked her up, holding her into the air several feet from the ground. He watched uninterested as she clawed at the appendage, trying to pry it off her neck. "Answer me!" The voice almost barked, as though he were commanding a misbehaving minion, and she gasped.
With white knuckled and a burning face, her teeth clenched before her mouth shot wide open, trying to find the right words and the air to speak them. "I … I – " What had happened to her? Where was her spirit? "I am.. N-Nilawen.." By the Gods, her name use to make her proud, even if she had no memory of her family and her childhood, something about it use to bring a light feeling to her heart and her shoulders, as though the world meant nothing, and no matter what danger she was facing, she would fine if she had her name. She could remember, even in that dirty wooden cart that was supposed to be taking her to her end, she still told Ralof with a smile on her face who she was. It made the Nord happy to see someone who wasn't afraid of what was going to happen, but what did she have to fear at the time? She didn't remember anything before that except for her name, and it was the bound-up king that sat beside her at that time who told her later what her races were (Breton and Bosmer, from what the King had decided). It all disgusted her now. "I … I am, Dovahkiin." She rasped, the name falling from her chapped lips like a breath of poisoned air leaving her lungs.
Letting her go, her body dropping like dead weight against the forest floor once more, he watched her nurse the tender skin around her neck, greedily taking in the air around her. "Then act like it," He told her, distain lacing his voice. "Get up, you're disgracing your name. It's almost pitiful."
"Did you get what you wanted Hermaeus?" She hissed, painfully sitting herself against a tree, the ragged bark digging into her skin, but she cared not. It was a dull throb compared to everything else in her that burned like embers. "To come push around an old hero?" Nilawen spat the last word like it was venom in her mouth, her icy eyes the definition of 'if looks could kill'. "To witness how pitiful the Dragonborn has become?"
The Prince simply stared at her, and once again she wished she could read the bastard's mind and know what he was thinking. "If I wanted to see that, I would only need to glance at you once." He stated, causing her brow to twitch, and her mouth to turn down even more than it already was. He had no right to insult her, but damn, he wasn't anywhere near wrong. It didn't even take Nilawen a long glance in mirror to notice all her flaws below and above the surface. She hadn't aged much over the years, but her face had become sunken, with dark circles forming under her eyes, and she had mentally and spiritually become weak. The paler she became, the more the grotesque scars running along her face stuck out; a small thin one running from her temple to her cheek-bone, and short but wide one gashed cattycorner from the beginning of her eyebrow to across the bridge of her nose to ending right under her eye, and two large disgusting ones running side by side from her cheek down and over her lips and past her chin to her neck. "Look at what you have become, Dovahkiin. You have become weak, old, you want nothing more than to lock yourself away and curl up in a ball and hide like a frightened animal."
"Like you?" Nilawen retorted softly, keeping her eyes cast down onto her side where hand now cradled it. "You stay in your library, hiding from the world, reading your books and filing yourself with knowledge because you have nothing. You have no one, either, Hermaeus."
For a moment, she thought this would it, he would damn her for what she had just said to him. But he stayed silent for a minute, two minutes, three, simply peering at her with his large eye. "You are right – I am alone," He stated, causing her to jerk in surprise, her eyes widening at his confession. "Humans are not so welcoming, as you have noticed. Who else would sit so idly in front of me as you do, Nilawen," The prince addressed her by her name, and it was the first time she had ever heard it coming from him. It was always her title, never her name. "I have no one, but my books to learn, but you, what do you have? Everyone. Your silly little Companions, your friends in Riften, your friends right down the mountain at Winterhold, your secluded Greybeards, your Dov, and your list happens to go on, yet you still try to hide away from the world and sit in your self-pity about how miserable your life has become." Nilawen hung her head even lower, her shoulders slumping as he continued to speak, firing arrows at what she little confidence remained in her. But it was all true, though he failed to see the reason as to why, and it would be pointless to explain any of it to him. "Why do you think I turn to knowledge? To my books? It is how I learn. It fulfills me because I have no other way. But you do, and that is why you will do me this favor."
"Ni daar ontzos…." The woman almost whined, sinking down the tree trunk further. (Not this again…)
Once again, Hermaeus rolled his eye at her behavior. "We will be doing each other a favor – it will be useful to me, and it will be good for you."
Narrowing her eyes in suspicion at the Prince, she shifted in her spot on the ground, clenching and unclenching her fists. "I highly doubt you care anything about what is good for me." She gritted in annoyance.
"Of course, I do," He mused, his golden eye dancing around the forest. "How else would anything get done around here?"
Letting out a deep breath, she let he head fall back against the tree with a thud. It was all supposed to be over – she had sealed all her deals, repaid all her debts, returned all of her favors no matter how dark. Her days of adventuring and dragon slaying were finished. Unfortunately, even after both wars, peace could never be found in Skyrim. Not with a prince who forever craved knowledge of the unknown, and who a better scavenger than the Dovahkiin herself? But maybe he was right. Her life was meant for more than to hide away like a coward simply because she feared herself. Why not put it to good use? It was not like Hermaeus was going to have her do anything too questionable. He probably only wanted her to bring him a book or some other artifact he could suck the knowledge from. Who knows, maybe she would end up helping someone along the way. Maybe this is exactly what she needed. She was destined for adventure, to be a hero, a thief, a murderer, a warrior. It was in her blood that coursed through her veins like a raging river, a part of her she ignored. But half of her heart roared as it was kept captive, held down by hot iron chains six feet under the ground, and it thirsted for something new. She had been trying so hard to hide that part of her, to tame it, but how long could she keep her beast locked up before it finally tore her to pieces? "What would you have me do, Mora?" Came her soft voice life the sound of a warm breeze, but her eyes were strong like forged steel.
If the entity could be excited, that would probably be the prince now. "I knew you would come around," Of course he did. She grunted, shifting once again on the ground, her body not as sore as it was before so she began to stand up, her fingers clutching tightly at her armor as the soaked clothing underneath stuck to her skin like a leech. Before her, a small black swirl appeared in the air, and two pale-green appendages slowly slithered out of it, holding onto a hefty book that they held out for her to take. "There is a land far from here, and I have only gotten a tiny taste – like a drop of water to a dehydrating man – of its knowledge. Though I am unable to obtain anymore." He hummed, staring at her as she took the book and the swirl before her dispersed.
Turning it from side-to-side, front-to-back, she looked the worn object over with a scrutinizing gaze. Opening the first page, her brows furrowed as it was empty and upon further inspection, the rest of them were as well. Nothing was written on the tan paper. "And why is that?" Nilawen asked with a suspicious stare, closing the book with a light slam, a tiny amount of dust flying off it.
"As I stated before, you humans are not so welcoming to things you do not understand, or things that are different," Even as Hermaeus answered, the Dragonborns stare did not change and a deep sigh came from the voice. "I may or may not have entered through a wrong port-hole, and caused a bit of havoc with my beauty a few hundred years before. A bit like when Mehrunes began the Oblivion Crisis. Good times."
By the Gods, she hated this man.
The amount of annoyance she felt around Mora would never change. He would never change. Reaching up with one hand, she rubbed the side of her face where her bigger scars rested, a habit she did in frustration. "So, you mean to tell me you've been planning on sending me to a strange land where neither of us know anything about their civilization, what kind of beings are there, their language, or anything?" She questioned, trying to get her strong point across on how this wasn't a good idea, at all. Maybe he should just go and cause his own Oblivion Crisis there and do it himself.
"Yes? I mean, I believed you would have figured that out without needing to ask – "
Waving her hand in the air to cut him off, her face was scrunched up in distain as she spoke. "No, no, I get it – I – Yeah, I get it."
"No one will know you, either," Hermaeus told her, and her face got an indifferent look, her eyes now completely focused on him, her grip on the book a little bit tighter. "The Dovahkiin will not be known to anyone, nor will your face, nor will Dov, nor our God's or belief's, nor anything we know of here, I'm sure of it. As I said earlier, I got a small taste of their land and it is not entirely different from ours; they live the same way, have the race of Men (the only one I acquired knowledge of), but I caught no sign of them knowing many of the things we know, and oh… the things that had happened there I would surly like to learn more of…." He trailed off, a distant look in his eye and Nilawen could tell he was day-dreaming.
Reaching up her hand after a few moments of silence, she snapped her fingers a couple times with a bored look on her face. "Tamriel to Mora. Are you still with me or did you leave to your precious new land?" Maybe this would be good for her, maybe the prince was right. She would once again go someplace new, she would get away on an adventure, and she could hear that dangerous side of her heart calling out and slowly breaking free, sinking into her mind with the idea of it all. It clawed and screamed and fought once more, and the Beast inside of her wanted to be free. The other half of her wanted to stay here where it was familiar, where her friends are, where she might be needed, but it also yearned for a place where no one knew she was the hero of the world, no one would know of the things she had done – good or bad. She would simply be a face and a name, and that sounded positively wonderful to her. "If – " Hermaeus began to open his mouth and she raised her finger, silencing him so she could finish speaking. "IF, I agree to do this, what if I change my mind later? How will I come back home?"
He was silent for a moment and she had a bad feeling in her gut as they stared each other down, then one of his tendril ran over the front of the book and it became slightly warm and buzzed under her touch. "The book; it is how you will get there, it will record every bit of information you gather as soon as it enters your mind, and it will be able to bring you home," The voice informed her, and she nodded her head, listening intently. "I assume you must travel to Winterhold to… gather your things before you depart," They both glanced at her destroyed cabin; her face shadowed in severe frustration as her fingers twitched. "When you are ready to leave, simply open the book to the first page and say: Zu'u yah fah vomindok, voreistig, vonahl. Zu'u bahlok fah nahkivaar ahrk wundun. Zu'u uth hi, ofun hin soven." (I seek for the unknown, the uncertain, the inanimate. I hunger for discovery and travel. I command you, share your secrets.)
"And when I want to come back?" Nilawen questioned, almost in awe at his words in Dovahzul.
"You tell it you're ready to return home."
The Dragonborn almost choked on her own air, slapping her hand hard against her chest, before glaring at him. "Lies," she hissed, her eyes narrowing at him. "That's all I must say, honestly?"
"Cross my heart and hope to die."
Her face fell to an unamused stare once again. "You don't have a heart, Mora."
"Touché." He hummed, tapping the tips of two of his tendril together lightly.
Turning her back to him, she sighed, looking over the book in her hands and running her finger tips over it, feeling it hum with magic. "I'm going to regret this," Nilawen told herself, feeling her mixed blood battle over which was stronger and who made the decision. The Dragonborn knew which part of her would win, it was no secret.
"Only slightly. Go, Dovahkiin. Gather your things and head to Middle-Earth," her face twitched uncomfortably at the name of the place she was to be traveling too. "I will check on you when you arrive." Turning to face him, a million questions still raging war in her mind, she found he was no longer there and her shoulders slumped. Wonderful.
Glancing over her back to Winterhold, she swallowed thickly. What was she to tell Onmund and Tolfdir? They spent most of their free-time in her quarters, so they would notice her. That's where the most powerful ingredients for Alchemy and Enchantment table stayed. She did not trust the new students not to mess around with it, so she kept it there. Looking up at the sky, she squinted her eyes at the strange light from the clouded sky. Nilawen had thought of simply slipping away in the middle of the night, but she did not want them to think her dead and she needed to leave someone in charge while she was away until she came back. If she came back. No. She couldn't think like that. She needed to come back, this place depended on it. She was needed here too much… or was she? Tolfdir was not fond of being the Arch Mage of the College but he was perfectly capable and she trusted him with her life and the students, and Onmunds. Brynjolf would be perfect to be head of the Thieves Guild, and whether he believed it or not, he was an excellent leader. Skjor practically already runs The Companions as she spends most of her days at the school now, so there's absolutely no question there on who she would leave it too (except maybe Aela, but where there was one, there was the other). Parthunaax did not need her, not for companionship anymore as he had many Dov's under his wing, especially Odahviing. Ahh, Odah. She sighed, closing her eyes and thinking of her dearest friend. That was a hard part of leaving – what would she do without her Dovah? There was no way he could come with her, that would be too obvious and she'd never be able to hide him. She would not risk his life as she had no knowledge about the place she was going. She didn't know how Dov would be treated there. He acted like a young Dov at times, and she was sure he would take the news of her leaving a little rash.
Shaking her head and beginning her walk down the hill, she began her way towards Winterhold, still musing over who would get was as though this were a will and she was going to die soon. Nilawen almost wished it were that way. How she yearned to see the painted skies of Sovngarde once more, to walk the back-bone bridge and the atmosphere of the grand feast for warriors, but there were also the blooming fields and the little rivers where she could find her peace. It almost bought warm tears to her eyes as her heart beat for something she could never touch again. Back to the matter at hand, she decided she would leave the Dark Brother hood to Nazir, at least the Falkreath Sanctuary. The Dawnstar Sanctuary would be left to her Dear Cicero, the poor man who was drowning in his own insanity, leaving her to wonder sometimes why she didn't slaughter him when she had him cornered and put him out of his misery. Perhaps she felt bad for him, and he had times where he seemed albeit normal, and after she had spared him, there was the time she saw him interact with a dog and it reminded her of an excited child – he was so kind and excited. She hoped he would take care of himself properly while she was gone.
Arriving at the entry way to Winterhold, she came from her thoughts to address the guards who bid her hello, a few of them complimenting on her armor as she made her way through town, and a couple ones she had never seen before thanking her for all she had done. Nilawen would offer them a strained smile in return. That was one thing she hated. About halfway across the bridge to the College, she stopped dead her tracks and a laugh built up in her chest as she suddenly thought of how Ulfric and Galmar would take the sudden news of her leaving, especially Ralof who grew extremely fond of her since he had saved her life from the very beginning, and they had done so much side-by-side. Nilawen could only envision the fit Galmar would have knowing she left with such a short notice, and didn't even think of inviting him on her adventure. She could remember several times when she lived in Windhelm and that bearish man would beat down her door and drag her around, taking her places with him. A few times she would have to drag him back drunk, or throw him over the back of her horse and escort him back to the Palace. Ulfric, always the wonderful man, never ceased to be amused by the sight of such a little woman hauling around such a large man on her back as though she were carrying a pack. But those were the Nords, weren't they? But poor Ralof, he would heartbroken for weeks. She was sure he could find someone to heal it, though.
Making her way through the snowy court, she paid the students no mind, even as they stopped to look at the sight of her which probably looked horrific after that little showdown with Hermeaus, and she threw the front door open, listening as it creaked closed behind her. She stopped, water dripping onto the floor from her drenched clothes, and she could hear Onmund talking, probably telling another story of his family, followed by Tolfdir laughing. It bought a warm smile onto her face and she began climbing up the stairs. "Well, well, if it isn't our magnificent Arch Mage, finally come back to visit us!" Nilawen heard his hardy voice echo through the room, and she chuckled, making her way towards them and almost instantly Tolfdir's face turned into one of concern.
As Onmund was still laughing with his head back and eyes closed, the older man stood up and furrowed his brows. "My dear, child, are you alright?" He murmured, beginning to walk towards her, and that was when the younger Nord became attentive. "I keep telling you time and time again to take someone with you when you leave, one of these days you're not going to come back – "
Holding up her hand with a gentle smile, she silenced the older man, a fond look in her eyes. She would always care for the man, and she hoped he would still be alive and in good health by the time she returned. He was aging, and it saddened her to think that someday she would watch him die while she remained the same. "Tolfdir," She murmured to him, the book in one hand and her other still holding onto her side. "Please, I am perfectly fine. A little bruised up, but it is nothing serious, I assure you."
Pushing Tolfdir out of the way, Onmund instantly was at her side, looking her up and down with excitement in his eyes. "Where did you go? What did you find? Was it anything interesting? I notice the book in your hand!" While the older Nord rolled his eyes at the young man's actions, thinking him to be a fool as he paid no attention to the condition Nilawen was obviously in.
Laughing a bit, she shook her head and moved past the two of them, giving the young Nord no answer. "I'm going to rest for a while," She told them, and she was glad her back was turned so they could not see the lie in her eyes. "I may just stay in for the night. Do not bother bringing me dinner, either, Tolfdir, for I already ate." Nilawen told him gently, opening the wooden door that lead to her bedroom, but she stopped before she entered. "Oh, and Onmund, you are far too curious for your own good, dear," She commented with a smirk, causing a flush to spread over his cheeks and the older Nord threw his head back in good laughter.
Making her way up the spiral stair case to her room, she threw the book down on her bed and began to strip her clothes, quickly, until she was as bare as the day she was born. Pulling back her brunette hair, she tucked some of it behind her slightly pointed ears, and her icy eyes scanned over her variety of amours. She wanted something that would protect her, but wouldn't draw a lot of attention. But it was difficult for her to choose as she had no idea the types of wears they had in this new place. Middle-Earth, she believed she remembered Mora calling it. Her Stalhrim armor would not be the choice for that, so she decided on her Nordic Carved set, minus the helmet. It might not be wise to walk around looking like a cave bear. After taking the horrendous amount of time it always takes to put on layers of clothing (including her armor), she began pulling her hair back and putting it into a fishtail braid as she admired her weaponry choices. She was not sure which might be better for her to take, although she was more practiced in a bow, and her great swords. Nilawen did not know what type of beasts she would be dealing with there, or how those Men fought, or how big they were. Of course, if push came to shove, she would always have her Thu'um, but that was something she would try to avoid using as much as possible. Finishing up her braid, the bottom of it resting just below her shoulder blades, she decided on her great sword until she got there, then maybe she could acquire a bow and quiver if she needed too.
Standing up from her plush bed, she moved across the room to her large desk, opening a wooden panel in the wall which held gems and coin of all kinds and all amounts. She pulled out a decent sized one filled with coins and gems, just in case, and tossed it onto her bed. Closing the panel, she pulled out her chair and sat down at her desk, letting out a deep sigh. This was going to be the hard part – writing these letters to so many people, explaining to them that she would be gone, and what to expect while she was away, and what they needed to do for her as a favor.
Minutes turned into an hour, and an hour turned into a couple before she was done, and she noticed the sun was beginning to set in the sky as she laid down her quill and began to seal her final letter. Sneaking outside of the college with her great sword on her back, she held one less letter, leaving the one for Onmund and Tolfdir on her Arch Mage's desk. Making her way towards the Inn, she knew she would find the courier having a drink. Opening the door, she was met with the smell of smoke and the sound of chatter and laughter, and the heat of the fire. Making her way towards the man in the back who sat alone, she tapped him on the shoulder and he turned, looking up at her. "I'm sorry, I don't think I have anything for you, Dragonborn," he apologized with a frown. He had delivered her so many letters, she almost chuckled at remembering, and the few times she threatened him when he told her he couldn't say who they were.
"Nay, sir," he told him, reaching into her breast plate and pulling out her own. "I need you to deliver these to me, if you don't mind." Nilawen handed them to him, which he took with great care. "I will pay you a good amount to see they get to their destination quickly and safe."
As she began to reach for her coin, the man held up his hand with a smile. "No need," Her brows furrowed in confusion. "It'll be an honor to finally deliver a letter for you, for once." He told her with a laugh before setting down his mug, standing up and leaving. A small smile graced her chapped lips as she stared at the door. He was such a nice man, and she never even knew his name.
Bidding farewell to the Inn keeper who had wished her a good night, she walked out the door and pulled up the hood of her fur cloak she had put on before leaving the College. Making her way out of the village, she traveled back up the mountain and into the woods where the wreckage of her cabin lay. Hopefully no one came looking for her here, or they would think the worst. Shaking her head, she opened the book on her hands to the first blank page, and it began to hum and heat up, a gentle light coming from the creases in it. "I hate this part," Nilawen grimaced as she remembered the Black Book, hoping this wouldn't be the same. Taking a deep breath before she held it in front of her with stretched arms, and in a voice, that rumbled in her chest and lightly shook the ground below her feet, she spoke: "Zu'u yah fah vomindok, voreistig, vonahl. Zu'u bahlok fah nahkivaar ahrk wundun. Zu'u uth hi, ofun hin soven." (I seek for the unknown, the uncertain, the inanimate. I hunger for discovery and travel. I command you, share your secrets.)
It was, unfortunately.