A/N: Well, hello all! Now isn't this exciting? My first update since June!

I'm sure some individuals are disappointed that I wrote a new chapter for this before Malevolence, however due to the current length of it as well as my chapter lengths for FM, this was much faster to review and write for than MF. (I am currently still re-reading MF. I'm almost through it all, but it has taken time to re-read and figure out all the little things I put in chapters on purpose to link to later chapters.) For those who would like updates as to when I am going to update/how far I am in updating, CHECK MY PROFILE PAGE. I have a note I leave there with a date of when I posted it.

Anyhow, enjoy!

-Liliedove

...

Each of the Dremora Lords has his own extra-curricular specialty known greatly far and wide; for the skills and talents of the high born are a magnificent sight to be seen. When one deemed worthy of the title lord is born, they are brought up in a way that develops these talents, bringing them to their full potential before their title is given. One might ask why this is necessary, when the duties of a lord do not require such a thing. To answer this, one must understand that those of the higher class have social expectations unbeknownst to lower born individuals; intelligent though they may be. Things such as class and social standings are important and influential amongst the high born, despite the sporadic occurrences of social gathering. It is within these rare gatherings that titles are given to those deemed worthy enough to gain them, over another individual also nearly equal in footing as they. As one can now see with this new understanding given, these special skills are needed to win the title of lord.

Our particular lord had an excellent understanding of a material properties, the effects a substance has on another, and the great potential these properties have at their almost limitless combinations. He studied under the Great Alchemists, thus nearly reaching a title of such honor as theirs as well as the title of lord. However, he preoccupied himself with wars and other hobbies such as the cross breeding of more sophisticated Kyn bloodlines, attempting to create better soldiers for his armies. However, if one were to take hold of his notes of research, one would see that his studies did not end with the Great Alchemists, but span over a great many new discoveries that are only now being made aware of by budding alchemists of our day and age. Obtaining these notes, unfortunately, is nearly impossible, for they are now stored in Apocrytha.

What wonders could have come about from our lord's research will only be imagined. Perhaps an early wide discovery of a vaccine against the negative effects suns from other realms have on our demeanor? An end of Summonings to the realm of Nirn by force, thus avoiding binding contracts with mortals? One may only speculate the great knowledge lost to our world with concordance to his unseemly actions.

He abused his talents so graciously bestowed upon him, to use such a thing for a mortals good in return for nothing at all. It was completely absurd, and another observation as to the steps he began to make towards his great decent.

...

The child had fallen sick. A thick frost had settled over the land, and while the expensive potions the year before kept severe illnesses away from the Salavel's foreign immune systems, this years had not. The symptoms she had were the following with accordance to our lord's personal journals: a whooping cough, a great heating of the body, shortness of breath, great fatigue, and a constant chill to the bones.

"Ma, the doctor is here." Minasi Salavel turned from stooping over her daughter. At the sight of the Nord standing beside her son in the doorway, a look of relief graced her worried face.

The bearded man gestured towards the bed with his briefcase. "Is this the ill?" He said in a gruff voice. The mother ushered him quickly to the merling girl's side, brushing back the loose hairs from her forehead. The doctor set his briefcase to the side, untying the small stool folded against the back of it. Setting it beneath him, he began looking over the child, muttering and humming to himself. "Madam Salavel, is it? How long has she been withstanding these ailments?"

"It has been two weeks since it began… We've taken the top quality medicines to keep these nasty things away, so I didn't suspect anything serious when she first started showing signs of the illness." She looked down at Rathyne, whose eyes were growing heavier by the minute. The doctor put an ear to her chest, counting to himself. Minasi Salavel bit her lip. "What can be done to get rid of it?"

"You said she has had this for two weeks, correct?" He then rubbed his chin, then shaking his head. "Illnesses such as these are spread rampantly during this time of the harvest season. I've treated many people for symptoms such as these, but it's rather... difficult, to find a body in the young and the old that can withstand the fight inside. The medication might do her some good, but there are no guarantees, especially in this case. I've never seen someone so advanced into this kind of illness after two weeks."

The womer became flustered, her eyes nearly boiling over with rage. "Are you saying there is nothing that can be done?" She exclaimed angrily. The Nord turned to look at her, a sympathetic look upon his face.

"If you would like, you can try an antidote that is still being tested. It has worked for some patients, but… Again, it is still in its testing stage, and your daughter is already almost past any chance of seeing brighter days."

"I'll take it!" She exclaimed. The doctor bent down and began digging in his briefcase, then emerging with a small red vial in his hand.

"That will be another 400 septims to your price." He said sternly as he looked down his nose at her. She furrowed her brows together as she pulled out a purse of gold.

...

All the while, the Dremora lord watched eagerly at the events unfolding before him. He watched as she lay in bed whooping, her mother shooing her other children out of the room constantly. While this was a daunting thing to face for the Dunmer family, it was seen as quite another thing by our lord. A new form of entertainment! Her dancing and playing were so repetitive, so tiresome, but a struggle for survival? Now that was entertaining! Gripping to life, not knowing if you'll see another day: she would likely die, but maybe she would live. The idea was thrilling!

Each day she grew worse: paler, groans growing softer, breaths becoming lighter. A mother weeping as she looked down at her sleeping girl, always in pain. Ah, but some days she seemed stronger. Seemed to be able to eat and drink. She was fighting from the inside! Fighting with all of her tiny little might, reaching for life's hand! She would survive, he just knew it. She had to of course. She would live, wouldn't she?

He decided the doctor they had was useless. If he couldn't even provide medicine to heal the girl, why not use a simple healing spell? Ah, but he was a Nord. Nords didn't like magic. The simpletons: afraid of their own shadows in the thought that it might come upon them and kill them as they sleep! The poor Dunmer family, surrounded by such a primitive culture that only served a man god. Mortals were so ignorant, especially men, and especially the Nords of Skyrim.

The child, she hadn't experienced anything in life yet. How frail these mortals are, with so little life within them... Nirn was an accursed place. A place that should have never been made, should never be entered. Death was eminent in that realm. Those pathetic creatures. He watched as the doctor escorted the woman out of the room as she wept in her hands, this visit decidedly being his last to their home: there was little life left in the small body. But she wouldn't die, she had to survive. She had to survive.

The lord furrowed as he held his chin. Things weren't going how he planned. She wasn't supposed to die. What a pathetic loss! Any one of his simple potions would do for thing like that! He paused. Maybe, just maybe this once... He could intervene.

He stood, and quickly walked out of the observatory and into his laboratory. He was back in minutes, his fingers curled around a small glass bottle. Just this once he would intervene. If he didn't, what would he do in the spare hours? Stare out across the realm as he once did? It was nothing, nothing compared to this.

He approached the mirror, and slowly he reached out and touched it, his legs passing through it and onto the plush throw on the floor. He sucked in the heavy air. Was all of Nirn like this, the atmosphere of the whole realm so thick and hard to consume, or was it simply this room? He saw her lying motionless on the bed. Death was already crawling all over her.

She was faintly breathing with long pauses between. He uncapped the bottle, then taking the other hand beneath her head, lifting her. Her eyes fluttered open slightly.

"Drink this," he commanded. She stared up at his face, frowning ever so slightly. He pressed it further against her lips. "It is medicine, drink it or die."

Slowly she began to drink. When she finished, he laid her back again, then putting the cap back onto the bottle. He heard a gasp, and glanced behind him. The mother stood motionless at the door. He then glanced between the mirror and the womer casually.

"The girl will be well again, daughter of Azura. She has favor. Turn away, so that I may leave." The womer obeyed, turning to face the other room. The lord then returned through the mirror, watching again as the mother ran into the room, looking for him. When she realized he would not be found, she ran to her daughter, calling out her name. The girl sat up, color now returning to her face.

"Yes womer, your daughter is well once more. And now, the life of Rathyne Salavel belongs to me."

With that declaration, a declaration that even at it's most lenient definition bound him in a more private matter towards the mortal, he had opened the door to death.