Solitude, Haafingar Hold
Skyrim, Nirn
The 25
th of Sun's Dawn, 4E202

He was only doing it out of spite.

Nathiel could care less about the empire or the legion stationed in Skyrim, but when he heard from an assassin under his command that Belinda, Lucien, and Dione had thrown their lot in with the Stormcloaks, he decided to join the legion to deal with them. Why face three powerful Planeswalkers, even post-Mending ones, alone, when he could face them with an army? It made the most sense. So, here he was in Solitude, on his way to Castle Dour where he would speak with General Tullius and his right-hand, Legate Rikke.

"Tell me again why we're wasting time on this?" Tullius asked the legate.

"It's to help Jarl Elisif legitimize her claim," Rikke answered.

"Will it really?" Tullius groaned, bored. He was not impressed or interested in Skyrim and its honored traditions, let alone some old dusty crown of legend. He would be easy to manipulate and control with time and effort as long as their goals aligned. Once he realized the Dragonborn had sided with the Stormcloaks, he would lose faith quickly. How could his army stand against the Dragonborn? With the Dragonborn, the empire didn't stand a chance. But if Nathiel got close enough to her…

"Ahem!" he coughed, catching their attention. Tullius and Rikke turned to look at him. "I have it on good authority that the Jagged Crown is located in the Nordic ruin of Korvanjund."

"How do you even-?" Rikke started asking.

"An old story," Nathiel answered. He pushed himself off the doorframe. "Now, I'm afraid I have some bad news for you folks. The Dragonborn has thrown her lot in with the Stormcloaks. I'm here to help."


Windhelm, Eastmarch
Skyrim, Nirn
The 28
th of Sun's Dawn, 4E202

"Tell me again why we're wasting time and dwindling resources chasing a legend?" Ulfric asked two days later as Belinda and Dione were sitting down at the long table with their fellow Stormcloaks. Ralof was there, and he and Belinda were playing catchup on the last six months. That's when Ulfric and Galmar entered, talking about an artifact named the Jagged Crown. It caught the three's attention. Lucien was busy napping by a brazier to notice or care. "We don't even know it exits," Ulfric added irritably. Apparently, they he and Galmar had been talking about the Jagged Crown to some extent and the former believed it to be a waste of time and resources.

"The Jarls are upset," Galmar responded while Ulfric sat on his throne. "They don't all support you."

"Damn the Jarls," Ulfric grumbled.

"They demand the Moot," Galmar pointed out.

"And damn the Moot!" Ulfric barked, glaring. "We should risk letting those milkdrinkers put Thorryg's woman on the throne?! She'll hand Skyrim over to the Dominion on a silver plate!"

"All the more reason then!" Galmar responded. "The crown would legitimize your claims."

"A crown doesn't make a king," Ulfric stated, seeming to calm down.

"No, but this one-."

"If it even exist."

"It exists!" Galmar defended. "And it'll be the symbol of the righteousness of our cause. Think about it! The Jagged Crown!" His eyes lit up in excitement. Belinda stifled a chuckle. "It heralds back to a time before Jarls and Moots. Back to a time when a king was a king because his enemies fell before him and his people rose because they loved him. Skyrim needs that king. You will be that king, Ulfric. You must be!"

Ulfric groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. "You're certain you've found it?" he asked.

"When have I ever been false with you?" Galmar responded.

"I'll go," Belinda reported.

"I'll need more than just you, Dragonborn," Galmar pointed out.

"I'm coming too." Dione stood.

"Me too!" Ralof announced, tripping over the bench as he got up. Everyone laughed. A few others volunteered and stood also. Two of them helped Ralof up.

"Looks like I have my volunteers," Galmar chuckled.

"Lucien! Wake up!" Belinda barked. "We're going to find the Jagged Crown!"

Lucien yawned. "That's nice," he mumbled.


Korvanjund, the Pale Hold
Skyrim, Nirn
The 2
nd of First Seed, 4E202

It still snowed dry, dusty snow in the northeastern half of Skyrim, particularly northern Eastmarch, the Pale, and Winterhold. Galmar, Belinda, Dione, Lucien, Ralof, and the other volunteers rode their horses through to a small clearing north of Korvanjund. Upon arrival, they saw dark smoke, which met wet wood was being burned. Lucien and Galmar snuck ahead to investigate, leaving the others behind to set up a camp. A space was cleared in the snow and layered with stones, upon which dry wood was placed with dried pine needles, leaves, grass, and twigs. They got a fire going and everyone huddled around for warmth. Galmar and Lucien returned after an hour.

"Damn Imperials," Galmar grunted.

"What's wrong?" Belinda asked, rising. She and the others moved aside for Galmar and Lucien could warm themselves.

"The Imperials are here ahead of us," Galmar answered. "A dozen and a half patrolling the exterior ruins. Your cat reported even more inside."

"How did they find out the crown was here?" Ralof asked.

"I have a hunch," Lucien answered. "A hunch named Nathiel."

"Oh, great, he's back?" Belinda groaned.

"Friend of yours?" Galmar asked.

"Hardly. I'll show you what he did to my ankle later," Belinda answered. "If that bastard has thrown his lot in with the Imperials, then I fear it's my fault. He's got a vendetta against me. Something about what a…Ancestor of mine did to him. Supposed, she destroyed his research and now hates my family's guts."

"And then some," Lucien added. "We have to be extra careful in there. He's likely set up plenty of traps." He started pacing. "I don't like this. I don't like this one little bit. That Grade A ass is working with the Imperials."

"Ten gold he would have joined the Stormcloaks if I had joined the Imperials," Belinda muttered.

"I'll take that bet," Dione responded. "Do you feel like asking him?" she asked.

"I just might."

After stomping out the fire and hitching the horses to low-hanging branches, the Stormcloaks stormed the exterior ruin. They were outnumbered, but Belinda charged in first, Shouting fire on some of the men on the ground. Lucien flanked from behind, using invisibility and his natural stealth abilities to cloak his presence. He ripped two men apart. Dione had climbed a tree, casting a spell of invisibility on herself. Once on a strong branch, she let her illusion drop and drew the Nightingale bow, a beautiful and intricate weapon. She drew an ebony arrow and fire swiftly into a man, dropping him in a hit. The other Stormcloaks charged in with axes and swords after Belinda's Shout.

The Dragonborn drew Dragonbane and leapt into the fray. She cut two men down with ease and ran a third man through. Why are all of these legionnaires men? Belinda thought. She saw no woman among the bodies of soldiers. Maybe they're inside? She looked at her fellow Stormcloaks as the fight died down. Aside from her and Dione, three of them were women. At first, it seemed like a weird observation. They entered the ruins.

They were cold and damp with the heavy scent of dust and death all around. Nothing new there. Those that had entered the ruins all crouched behind a fallen pillar and looked over into the chamber ahead. Lucien's tilted his ears and listened. His eyes gave a slight glow as he looked into the chamber. He counted how many were in the immediate area, listening. Belinda gestured for everyone to be still so Lucien could listen.

"Well?" she asked him.

"Five," Lucien informed. "All male, standing over five feet and six inches. Four Cyrodiilics, one Nord. One of them is an archer. Rest have Imperial Legion swords. Lighter armor on the Cyrodiilics and the Nord has heavy steel."

"Impressive," Galmar stated. "Dead serious, I'm impressed."

"How far back is the archer?" Dione asked, pulling an arrow from her quiver. She notched it to the bowstring.

"Far back, toward the entry way to the rest of the ruins," Lucien answered.

Dione snuck head, pressing herself to the wall beside the entryway. Lucien connected to her mind and showed her where he heard and smelt each soldier. She took a deep breath and swept into the chamber, ducking behind fallen architecture to avoid being spotted. Soon, she had the archer in her sights and aimed her bow at him. She had his head in her sight, and the fool wasn't wearing a helm. She released her breath and arrow, watching it fly into the Cyrodiilic's head. He collapsed, dead, and the sound got the attention of the other soldiers. They went up to the body and that's when the other Stormcloaks struck. Belinda, Galmar, and Ralof were at the forefront. The skirmish was short, not a lot of blood. They then proceeded to the next chamber, pausing at the next entryway.

"This feels like an ambush," Galmar grunted.

Lucien listened in. "It is," he pointed out. He turned, scanning the chamber they were in. His tailed swished gently. He spotted an alternate way into the next chamber. "Dione, Belinda, up there."

Dione and Belinda nodded and went up. The alternate route led them to a narrow overpass above the legionnaires. They overheard them talking, about how they didn't like this, how they were nervous. The second soldier told him to just shut up and be patient. Belinda took out a bow and arrow, and both women aimed at the soldiers. The other soldiers focused then on them and that allowed Galmar to lead the Stormcloaks in and attacked those that remained. It was like that for a while, until they reached the halls, where they found the bodies of both legionnaires and Draugr. That made Grete paused, gagging as her hazel eyes went wide.

"Oooh, what is that?" she asked, going paler than before. She pushed some of her copper hair away from her face.

"What? Never seen a Draugr before?" Galmar asked.

"No, and I'm not better for seeing one now," Grete answered.

Belinda recognized Grete. Well, another version of her, on Innistrad. She had met the redhead by accident, while riding away from some werewolves. Belinda was armed only with a branch and no fire magic. Grete and a few others on horses had made a timely rescue. This Grete on Nirn were clearly a little weaker-stomached than her Innistradi counterpart, but that was a given. The Grete on Innistrad lived in a horror-stricken world of ravenous werewolves, hedonistic vampires, ghouls, undead, and necroalchemists stitching undead Frankenstein monsters. While such things existed on Nirn and there were orders dedicated to slaying them, they were thankfully not as prevalent, much like Angels.

"You'll be fine Grete," Belinda assured. "They die like everything else, granted these die twice."

"You sure?" Grete asked.

"Positive; just stab them enough," Belinda answered.

She then led the way to the ancient puzzle door. One of the dead legionnaires had the claw key. She lined up the symbols and opened the door. They were not far from King Borgas now. Once there, they saw the ancient king sitting on his throne, the crown on his head. There were stone coffins and old bookcases with ruined books lining the shelves. The room was dark, so, everyone lit a torch. Belinda and Dione knowingly drew their swords. The men lit the dusty old braziers, which illuminated the room, and King Borgas, long dead and seated on his throne, the Jagged Crown upon his head. One of the Stormcloaks, a man named Jaden, walked over.

"Galmar, is this the-?" He never finished his sentence, as King Borgas ran the young Stormcloak through with a curved, ebony blade. Jaden choked and gasped, gurgling blood. Belinda then heard it, the uttering of Unrelenting Force.

"Everyone get out of the way!" she shouted.

"-RO-DAH!" King Borgas Shouted, sending Jaden's body flying into the wall. Belinda winced, hearing the body break against the ancient stone. She turned then to Borgas, his eye sockets glowing blue. The flames on the torches and in the braziers turned blue, making Lucien tense. The air was cold, and more Draugr burst from their coffins.

There was a long fight. Thankfully, Galmar was a seasoned fighter, taking Borgas head on while the others contended with the four, lesser Draugr. Lucien aided Grete against one while Ralof, Belinda, and Dione each took one on. Grete's side was cut badly, but she would live. She took a defensive position, her opponent wailing on her. Thankfully, she proved good and fast with a shield. Lucien gave her…Encouragement. He reached into the recesses of her mind, pulled dreams of her other life, her life on Innistrad, and planted them on the forefront. She was a hero, a warrior respected far in wide. She slew monsters unlike any had ever seen in Skyrim. With it came memories of her valiant skills. Grete then pushed forward, skillfully swinging her sword. She decapitated the Draugr shortly after the burst of courage.

Ralof, Belinda, and Dione each dispatched the opponents shortly after. Dione did so in a flourish of dance and acrobatics, dual-wielding the Nightingale Blade and an ebony scimitar. Her Draugr was very slow, armed with a steel claymore. She was able to slice its arms off, her blades coming up below on the sides and cutting the arms off at the shoulder. She then waved her arms to the left, not tilting the blades even a little, and swung in a right, downward angle to cut the Draugr's head off and cut its upper torso in half.

Belinda was using her sword and staff to fight. She jabbed the bottom end of her staff against its chest and drove him to the ground. The staff with through, making the sound of ripping fabric and crunching bone. She impaled its head with Dragonbane.

Where Dione worked her whole life to master archery, dual-wielding swords, and her magic, Ralof was no mage and really was better at archery. Dione would have to better teach him dual wielding. He was terrible at as he handled two steel axes against a Draugr with an ebony battle axe. After dispatching her Draugr, Grete went in and cut its head off. The undead collapsed to its knees, and then fell onto its side.

"Good work, girl!" Galmar cheered to Grete, who looked shocked. She killed two Draugr!

"I can't believe I did that," she gasped.

"You should be proud of yourself," Belinda told her. "Not every day that someone can look a Draugr in the eye and slay it." She saw Grete's bleeding side. "Now, sit down and let me have a look at that." She moved Grete to a bench and sat her down. She tended to the redhead's wound while the others secured the chamber, making sure there were no more surprises.

Belinda knew enough first aid to clean, stitch, and cover the wound. Her mother was a nurse and she herself had had stitches before and had tended to her own bandages. Grete thanked her and stayed seated, deciding it was best to just rest.

"Hear, new blood," Galmar grunted, handing Belinda the Jagged Crown. "Get this back to Ulfric in Windhelm and tell him he owes me a drink."

"Well, okay then," Belinda responded, taking the crown with care. Lucien and Dione followed her. As they walked, she looked to Lucien. "How did you get Grete to put her awe into that?" she asked.

"Telepathy, my dear friend," Lucien answered. "She dreams of herself on Innistrad. I simply reached for those 'dreams' of hers and converted them into memory. And with memory, the brain sends signals to the muscles in her body, allowing her to instinctively know what to do in the situation."

"Genius," Dione muttered.

"Just wait until you here the Genetic Memory Theory," Lucien chuckled.

"It's a long way back to Windhelm, so you'll have time to tell me," Dione pointed out.

"Indeed."