Konahrik was truly envious of the Dwemer and their advancements.

She had never seen another civilization be able to produce such fascinating and amazing works from steam and stone. There were two Dwarven Spheres guarding the front door when Konahrik and her men approached, belching steam and hissing gears. Konahrik and her men tied their horses to the metal posts at the bottom of the stone steps leading to the door. She and her men walked slowly, her hand on her sword, her other hand raised so her men would not copy her own hand. The Spheres would know to attack, they were far from dumb an supposedly powered by soul gems, which begged the implication of immense taboo.

"Your masters were expecting us," she addressed them.

The spheres hissed and turned, rolling towards the doors. Konahrik closed her hand and took her other from her weapon, following the automatons. The large doors opened and the spheres rolled forward, Konahrik following, her men wary; they had every right to be. Her steps were heavy, ringing with power and as they reached the end of the entrance hall, the spheres closed up into their balls, rolling back towards the entrance.

The cavern they walked into was huge, echoing just like her palace under Bromunjaar. Across a large gap, there was a ledge with carved stone, several figures shuffling around their stalls. A market. Konahrik turned right, jogging up the steps there, seeing as it was the only way to get across. As they stepped over the small bridge leading to the market stalls, she looked down at the water rushing beneath them through the mountain, saw an open vent where Dwarven spiders were working away to repair something bent and broken, or maybe they were just finishing it.

"You arrived later than expected," a man approached them, a rare male Dwarf without a beard.

"There were complications involving a saber cat and a few Death Hounds," she bowed gently. "Otherwise, we would have been here earlier than originally planned. Now, though I am a guest in your home, I must insist that you take me to my dragon. Immediately. I was also informed my priest Miraak was already here."

The dwarf nodded. "Yes, he is already with the dragon now."

Konahrik muttered a curse, brushing past the dwarf and walking towards earth-made bridges. "I swear to the Gods," she hissed, flicking her wrist. Before her lit a stream of teal, directing her towards her destination. "If he did anything with my dragons soul, I am going to gut him and hang him from the gates of the city."

"Preferably not our city, ma'am."

Konahrik snarled and the dwarf nodded once, turning around and heading back towards the stalls. She didn't even spare a glance back to see where he was going; though, she probably should have. She closed her palm and the trail of light dispersed, her traipse across the earth bridges over with and her men still at her back. Konahrik's eyes darted around the darkly lit hole they walked through. It was empty. Odd. She thought the Dwarves tried to use as much space as they had.

"This is genuinely beautiful," she muttered, pausing at an open space.

Light streamed in through an open hole in the ceiling, trees grew into the cliffs around her, their roots dangling in reach, swaying and. . .dare she say grasping for something. She breathed in the scent of pine and rocks, water. She never liked being underground, she liked fresh air and the skies above her. How the Dwemer were able to stand this kind of living space, she could never understand.

They passed under a long, narrow, path with rotting logs and more dangling roots. Tree limbs stretched above their heads, tightly joined with rare openings to let light in. The air was thick and humid, but she hadn't broken out in a sweat yet. She wished she still had her Stalhrim armor, she wouldn't even feel the slightest rise in temperature.

"By the Eight," she whispered, stopping at the head of a slope into a larger cavern.

Trees were scattered around the open space, light coming from a giant hole in the wide, dome shaped, ceiling. There was a large wall of stone with Dwarven faces carved into it, the traditional bronze metal the Dwemers used decorating the wall with tonal locks and barred gates. The light streamed in, hitting the running stream just right to send rainbows in some directions.

She would call it beautiful were it not for the Frost Dragon lying in a crumpled heap in the middle of the room. Her breath caught in her throat and Konahrik ran down the slope, her armor clanging and creaking, her head shaking persistently in denial. No, no how did this happen? She came to a stop near the dragons head, reaching down with trembling fingers to run her hands flat against the dragons gaping maw. The teeth were jagged and there were thick, stringy, pieces of bloody meat stuck between its teeth; three of them were broken, freshly broken. She. . .she had never seen such a young dragon so torn up. . .she had never seen an older dragon in this condition.

"Gouge marks in the throat, stomach and one on its back," Miraak stepped from around the dragons back feet, writing something down on a roll of parchment strapped across a wooden board. "Hello Konahrik," he didn't look up.

Konahrik shook her head, stomping towards him with thick steps. He looked up just as she stopped in front of him, a smirk played on his lips but she did not falter like she used to. She narrowed her eyes and let out a sharp growl, reeling her right hand back and landing a slap across the side of his face. His head jerked to the side, a line from her gauntlets on his face.

"You son of a bitch," she spat, pushing him back. "You don't talk to me in months, don't even write and this is how I find out you're in Skyrim? Are you fucking kidding me?"

Miraak didn't look at her right away, just stood there for a long moment, head still to the side. Konahrik huffes and then looked back at her escorts, growling at them and pointing to the Dwarves watching from the top of the slope. They nodded and turned on their heels, approaching them with fast steps. The Dwarves protested mildly but did as instructed, moving out of the chamber.

When she looked back at Miraak, he took a swift step forward and pressed his lips firmly against hers. She squeaked and pushed up to her toes, even when he pulled away, a smug smile on his face. She narrowed her eyes at him, a blush forming on her cheeks; bastard. She cleared her throat, bracing her right hand against her back as she placed her left hand against the dragon's belly.

"What uh. . .what do you think happened," obvious subject change, but she needed it.

He chuckled darkly and she heard him shuffle the parchment around; he had tucked it under of his arms. "From the looks of it. . .another dragon. There is nothing but a dragon that could do this much damage to a Frost Dragons scales. There is nothing else that could do this much damage to any dragons scales."

Konahriks brow furrowed. "But. . .why would dragons attack one another, it doesn't make any sense."

"Maybe one went rogue," Miraak offered. "Perhaps a disease? If we had the man power or the permission to retrieve the body from this caverns, I would gladly do that but the Dwarves are not allowing this and we must respect their wishes."

"Plus, they could start a war we aren't prepared for," she muttered then sighed, rubbing her brow. "Fine. . .fine, you can have the soul. I can arrange for some slave workers to retrieve the bones later."

She looked back at him, saw him grin and then she rolled her eyes. He passed off the parchment and wood to her and she took it, taking a few steps back as he approached the dead dragon. Something in his eyes flashed and they glowed in different hues of red, blue and green; it was genuinely beautiful to behold. She looked to the dragon, saw the burning inferno taking over its body and had to turn away completely.

She couldn't see that, couldn't see the dragons she loved being inhaled by a human. Couldn't see such a powerful creature brought to this burning, charged mass of bones left with singed sinew and flesh clinging to its former master. She couldn't stand it, but Miraak she had some level of tolerance for. What she didn't believe was that Alduin willingly gave him permission to take the souls of deceased dragons. Usually it were those felled in battle or those too old to continue serving in Alduins army.

A hand touched her shoulder and she looked back, closing her eyes when he cupped the side of her face. He stroked her cheek, smiling weakly, apologetically. "I am sorry," he muttered. "I know how it bothers you, Lorolei."

She shook her head. "No. . .no don't apologize. Go back to being that hardass, snarky bastard I know and. . ." she paused, swallowed. "Let's wrap up this report. I hate to have such inconclusive findings on a young dragon's death. He will not be pleased."

Miraak shook his head and let her go just as two dwarves in violet robes came from an open archway across the opposite side of the chamber. "I will speak with him then."

Konahrik shook her head, ready to protest but she was interrupted by one of the two Dwarves. "M'Lady," he bowed. "War Lord, we must know what the state of this complication is in."

She straightened her back, took in a breath and passed Miraak his board and parchment. "No conclusive findings but we have basics, Miraak has dealt with the bulk of the clean up. We will send slave workers and guards to collect the bones for burial within the next day. No protests, please. I am sorry to have inconvenienced you all with this."

The dwarf shook his head. "No, we are sorry that you have lost one of your own so young. We do hope you sort this out in due time."

Konahrik smiled gently. "Thank you sir, and we hope you prosper as you have so far. Once the bones are collected, we will be out of your hair."

The dwarf smiled, his companion not so cheerful. They each bowed, Miraak too consumed in his paper work to deal with them. When Konahrik drew his attention, he decided to follow her and her men back to Bromunjaar. And she couldn't admit that idea made her insides turn.

She is awoken to a large crack and a horses distressed cries.

She rolls out of her bedroll with a pounding heart, stumbling to her feet and approaching the wide flaps of the tent. Miraak had put her in one to match his, a grandiose tent with lit sconces outside. But now the sconces were tipped and there was churned up dirt around her tent. She hugged her night dress closer to her body, screaming as a horse barreled past her and forces her to tumble into hot ashes and coals from the sconces.

Men circled the camp, laughing as they pierced the armor of one of the guards; hw fell to the ground, clutching at his bleeding chest. Lorolei's eyes widened in fear as the bandits eyes turned to her, a sick grin coming across one of their faces. She turned and ran in the opposite direction, running into one of the guards; her feet ached with the effort. The guard grunted and clumsily tried to catch her but an arrow caught him in the shoulder and she screamed, pushing him out of the way.

She skidded to a stop as a large, black horse ran into her path, a bandit on its back. The horse reared back and she ducked under its belly, hurrying towards. . .she didn't really have a destination. She just needed to get out of here but after that, she didn't know. Couldn't think of it. She was scared. There were bandits and blood and bodies everywhere.

Lorolei was scared.

"Lorolei!"

She was grabbed by the upper arm and pulled against a rough side, which made her thrash. She looked up with panicked eyes to meet Miraak's golden mask. It resembled any other Priests mask but the edges were ringed in small points and there were fierce red lines sprouting from the eye sockets. She watched as he flicked his wrist and a stream of ice shot from his palm, freezing two of the bandits where they stood.

She could feel his heart beating in his chest.

He took a hold of her hand and began to run, pulling her towards the tree line. Two rows in, he paused, grabbing her up by the hips and lifting her up. She didn't understand what to do until she noticed the limb above her head. She took a hold of it, using his help to scramble onto it. She clung to the trunk with trembling arms, staring down at him through the tears; her fingers dug with no remorse into the bark, grounding her.

He pulled his mask from his face, looking at her with glowing eyes. "I promise that I will be back for you, Lorolei."

She hesitated but then nodded, her head bob fierce. "I-I trust you to. . ."

He nodded once and slid the mask back onto his face, charging back into the massive raid. From where she was sitting, Lorolei could see the practical army of bandits and doubted he would be back for her.