Fjorkvar found himself alone in a field in the middle of nowhere. To his left Thalmor agents readied to launch an attack, and to his right was nothing but heavy fog blocking the way. LOK VAH KOOR he shouted trying to clear the way but the fog would not disperse. He turned once more to his left taking out his bow firing in all directions hitting Thalmor agents, no sooner one died another took their place. The Thalmor drew closer Fjorkvar turned to his sword, slicing all those that came within striking distance. He had lost count of how many Altmer he had slayed, but soon it would not matter. His body grew weak from exhaustion, in a moment of desperation he screamed FUS RO DAH knocking back those in front of him, yet the Thalmor still marched towards him. Suddenly they stopped dead, each taking a few steps back. Finally Fjorkvar could catch his breath; he turned to try once more to clear the fog only to be greeted by the sight of sharp teeth grabbing him, then tearing his body apart, the jaws chomped down each time making a crashing sound until they finally closed creating one last horrendous noise before there was nothing but total darkness.

Fjorkvar woke up covered in sweat, gasping for air. The sound of a thunderstorm echoed throughout the castle. This weather was all he had experienced since being back in Cyrodiil. He had been living in this castle now for close to three months now, waiting for Antonio to give the order, so they could leave for the Summerset Isle. He finally got to his feet, picking up the clothes that were laid out for him on a chair next to the bed. Putting them on he realised there obviously weren't his but also they were new. He walked out of the bedroom into the brightly lit main hall, he continued to walk around the walkway making his way to the front doors which were left wide open and there sitting on a wooden stool was Saladin. The rain fell on him but it did not seem to bother him in the slightest. As Fjorkvar got closer Saladin acknowledged his presence.

"And so the Dragonborn is awake. Please come join me"

Fjorkvar walked out the door, taking a seat next to Saladin.

"Isn't it beautiful? There is nothing like waking up to the sound and sight of thunder. You would assume that after 200 years one would be bored of this yet, this really kick starts my day. Let me get your first question out of the way, the Nerevarine is at the top of the hill. He is doing his daily mediation, or apology depending on how you look at it."

Fjorkvar stopped Saladin

"What do you mean apology?"

Saladin stared at Fjorkvar.

"Ah so he hasn't told you. I'm guessing he recited the story of the kidnapped little girl yes? This is a recurring nightmare that he has had to endure for over two centuries. That little girl was not a little girl at all; she is the embodiment of Azura, the two bandits he kills are Dagoth Ur and two of the Tribunal false gods Almalexia and Sotha Sil, but the one that gets away with her is Vivec. Me and you, Dragonborn we fulfilled our commitments to the Elder Scrolls prophecies and to a degree so did he, however he still owes Azura the body of Vivec. While she can be very merciful she will not sit ideally by while one of those that mocked her still walks the land. How do I know all this? Being a Daedric Prince for a small amount of time I would have various conversations with the other 15. I believe you have had some involvement with them, and the way they appear to the 10 races is not as they appear to the others. They were all courteous, even Dagon. But I digress, I spent many days, maybe weeks or was it years speaking with Azura, I may have been a god like figure but I was also still a mortal, she would allow me to in her in tracking the Nerevarine. I would see how destructive he was on the battlefield, men would weep when challenged, and they would run in fear from him. And there is no one that could blame them; I mean how do you beat that which is unbeatable? Those that would stand their ground accepted their deaths, to be a great warrior though you must fear death, not embrace it. Nerevarine even to this day fears dying, though for the past two hundred years he as searched the land for the perfect challenger and we fought. It was a glorious battle that took place in the planes of Oblivion and the Planes of Akavir, and to this day there is still no victor. The true challenger was not the Champion of Cyrodiil but it was to be a Dovahkiin. For the past 150 years he has slaughtered these rumoured Dragonborns hoping that one would grant him death; however none of them were great warriors. Then we all heard the call. The Greybeards called for you it would seem then he had a change of heart, his purpose was not to kill the Dragonborn but to guide him, to eventually unite these lands torn by war and take his place as Emperor just like Tiber Septim himself. You have the potential to rule for many years and you will pass away becoming a legend.

Fjorkvar sat quite as Saladin spoke, while he was intrigued by Antonio's story, what he really wanted now was to become an immortal warrior like the two men he was preparing to go to war with. Still watching the rain pour from the skies above he blurted out.

"So how do I become immortal?"

Saladin chuckled, offending Fjorkavr who was being serious. Saladin responded

"I do not mean to show disrespect Dragonborn but you are as immortal as you are ever going to be. Your place is not to live forever, it is to reign for many years and finally die. I'm sorry if this displeases you but it is how it should be. Perhaps you can meet my friend in Skingrad, he may help as long as you are okay with becoming a vampire."

Fjorkvar stood up, turning as if he was going to shout, however Saladin continued.

"I'm sorry Dragonborn, but you must understand this life is not ideal. I have lived for so long that I have seen my two wives and 6 children all die. You may not understand now but you will one."

Fjorkvar psychically shaking let loose.

"What is it with you two? You have lived for over 200 hundred years and all you do is complain about how hard it is. He leaves Tamriel and you sit in your castle being a little bitch about it. I'm sorry you lost your families but I would've used your gift to keep Tamriel in check. I wouldn't have allowed the Thalmor to rise."

Saladin cut Fjorkavr off.

"You do not understand, the Blades have waited for a real Dragonborn to return since the death of Martin Septim. Since then they have protected a fake Emperor who sold them out."

Fjorkvar responded

"So what's your excuse? Does it not bother you that for these past 200 hundred years and maybe before that you two have followed the orders of everyone else? One of you could have taken the throne but you choose to be the tools of the Daedra, I am unlike both of you. I am my own man; I will fight the Altmer not for Talos or any other Septim. You want me to be Emperor sure I'll do it, but not because you two want me to. I will make every man, every orc, every beast, every elf and even the Daedra fear me."

Fjorkvar suddenly stopped, looking at Saladin. He thought back to his first battle with Alduin atop the Throat of the World, and for a moment he flashbacked to what Alduin said 'even the Daedra fear me.' Fjorkvar walked away from Saladin, heading towards the castle gates. He walked out the compound and headed right walking up the hill, on the way Antonio passed him reaching out and grabbing Fjorkvar.

"We are heading back to Skyrim soon."

Fjorkvar just looked blankly at him.

"Why? What happened to going to Summerset Isle?"

Antonio produced a note.

"While you slept they sent one of the Khajiits back, just as I thought they would. They know who sent the heads and they are preparing, the time is now for us to do the same."

Fjorkvar just nodded and kept walking forwards. Antonio followed the path back to Battlehorn castle. Fjorkvar walked across the fields having no idea where he was going, before long the castle was out of sight. With his head down he kept going until he hit something, forcing him off his feet. He looked up but nothing was there. He reached out his left hand to feel, touching a scaly texture, he threw out his right hand summoning a sword.

"Show yourself." He ordered

The obstacle revealed it self, Fjorkvar took a step back. Standing before him a rather majestic looking golden dragon, he raised his head looking to the sky before bringing it back down to focus on Fjorkvar.

"Finally we meet Dovahkiin, I wish you no harm I am here to deliver a message from the Wise One. E wishes for you to visit him upon your return to Skyrim."

Fjorkvar continued to look at the beauty of this Dovah that stood in front of him before asking a question.

"Do you have a name?"

The dragon responded

"I am but a messenger; therefore I do not have one."

Fjorkvar did not believe this beast

"You sure? I bet you do but it is in your dragon language and you feel that I won't be able to pronounce it."

The dragon continued to just look at Fjorkvar

"No that is not the reason Dovahkiin, unlike my brethren I have embraced the mortal language, my fellow Dovah would do well to follow in my footsteps. Still I have no name. I also come with another message, this one from myself. You wish to be like your companions yes? You wish to become immortal like the Daedra or the Dovah. I offer you a gift Dovahkiin, when you return I will seek you out after your meeting with the Wise One. If you still wish to become immortal, I will give this gift to you if not, well there's no harm done yes? You would ask why not give it to you now? I must get many things ready before this is possible. Now I must take my leave DovahKiin I look forward to conversing with you again."

The dragon spread its wings, the rain continuing to pour down on him before once again he becoming invisible, heading towards the skies above Cyrodiil. Fjorkvar reached his hand out to make sure he was really gone.