Sorry for the delay for those still reading – I've gotten rather far ahead in the game now, and the writing was becoming boring to me. I know when I get bored, it's probably not as exciting to read, so I went ahead and skipped a chunk of the story. I hope this keeps it more engaging and doesn't lack any important content. Things hopefully will pick up from here.

Thank you to my reviewers!

Only a few days later, Tharwen had mastered several shouts, some of which she had gained introspection of from her journeys through the ancient Nord crypts, and another from the Greybeards themselves. The old men were impressed by the speed of her comprehension, and her intense will to keep learning. Hours of meditation and shouting in the below freezing temperatures kept her mind sharp and focused, but the scent of Sinding returning with a fresh kill almost drove her over the edge. Her beast blood was rearing and she needed to return to Whiterun to speak to Kodlak and fulfill the duty she had been assigned. Her urge to action was stronger than the meditation and thoughtful training the Greybeards provided. The Greybeards tried to dissuade her from leaving, saying that she, as Dragonborn, had a duty to learn the Way of the Voice, lest she be controlled by the power it wields.

Arngeir was most concerned. "Our last student who trained with us for over a decade has gone and started this war - his power has lead to consequences I fear are beyond his control. I beg of you to stay out of conflict, and not to engage in the violence that has taken over."

Tharwen pondered this, remembering the words she had heard on her travels about the gagged man at Helgen; Ulfric Stormcloak. The leader of the rebellion had trained with the Greybeards for much of his youth, until the Great War. She now understood that he had the power of the voice and what he would be capable of, as well as the work that a man without the Dragonblood would have to endure to absorb such arcane knowledge. The Civil War loomed over Skyrim in her travels and she realized she ought to have been paying closer attention. Things were more connected than she'd realized.

Her reply was simple enough, and true. "I have duties I must attend to. I return to train again when the time is right."

"If you must leave, prove your commitment to us by retrieving the horn of our founder, Jurgen Windcaller, in Ustengrav. None thus far have been up to this task and meditating on the way of Jurgen the Calm will " was the elder's reply. "Farewell, Dragonborn."

Tharwen's steady walk down from the Greybeard's temple was sober and largely uneventful. She decided to press on, to return to Whiterun, and present Kodlak with the gift he had requested. Traveling with Sindig, she allowed herself to unleash the beast that night, attacking the few individuals she met on the road - mostly bandits and thieves, but found it satisfying nonetheless.

In the early hours of dawn, Tharwen reached the gates of Whiterun. She felt something amiss, and drew her short-blade as she raced toward Jorrvaskr. The sight that met her caused a chill to her bone. Her brothers and sisters in arms wounded or dying alongside the corpses of several men and women, bearing silver swords. Vilkas was shaking as he approached.

"Where were you!" his voice escalated "We needed you here."

"Vilkas.." Farkas approached softly, his gaze hardened as he saw Tharwen. "Kodlak, he didn't make it."

Tharwen fed off of the roiling energy of the other shifters inadvertently, sensing the rise in heat. She saw Vilkas and Farkas struggling between each other, VIlkas eyes burning gold from his usually docile brown. Aela was nearby, tending to one of the injured, but yet-living, and her energy even reached her. Tharwen clenched her fists, thankful that she had released her beast before returning, or she would have lacked the willpower to avoid it in Whiterun.

"Kodlak sent me to Glenmoril Coven." Tharwen's voice edged on cracking, as she spoke to Vilkas.

Vilkas sighed, growling to himself. "Old man always wanted peace in the end, and they even took that from him." Farkas glanced anxiously between his brother and the other members of the Circle, sensing his inner dilemma. The silent communications between them broke when Vilkas drew his sword, and shoved the blade into the body of one of the Silver Hand at his feet.

"These bastards are going to regret raising their weapons to Jorrvaskr." He looked Tharwen in the eyes, his expression white with anger.

Tharwen nodded, and followed him, her guilt at not returning sooner eating away at her, she pressed it to the back of her mind and ran hard with Vilkas, as beasts, to annihilate the Silver Hand's presence. Her heart felt empty and she bit back the sense of loss that seemed as great as losing her own parents, as she exacted her carnal rage against those who would stand in her way.

Tharwen sat, perched along the cliff-sides of the Solitude docks. She hid her face in a cowl and mask, her self-fashioned armor, the craft learned at the hands of the few Wood elves who dared defy the Thalmor's ban on Bosmer tradition. She had grown increasingly eager to embrace her native culture, despite her situation in Skyrim, and continued her vendetta against the Aldmeri Dominion that had ripped her from her homeland before she could recall. It had started petty - after Kodlak's funeral she had left to recover alone. Her venturing in the far North brought her eventually to Ustengrav, where she found not the Horn but instead a message. On her own, she had terrorized the small bands of Thalmor Justicars that happened along her path, leaving beast-marked, naked corpses in her wake. Despite this, after meeting Delphine, she began to feel a stronger sense of purpose. The Blades were a dying breed, wiped out by the very organization Tharwen reviled. Dragonslaying itself was a noble cause and aligned well with her native desires to bring down big game, but revenge for her lot in life was what really drove her ambition now. And Delphine had offered that to her on a silver platter. Tharwen had taken up their next mission with excitement but felt wary. She usually was unable to stop herself from transforming upon seeing the swaying black and gold cloaks of the Thalmor, and more than once had run to hide so none would witness her transformation. She had gorged herself with the hearts of every member of a bandit fort and a few unfortunate travelers the night before, hoping this feast would quell her beastly appetite.

"If we could get into the Thalmor Embassy...the center of their operations in Skyrim…"

Tharwen recalled their exchange, and the importance of what had passed between them. Thalmor embassy - she could do away with their highest officers all in one beautiful array of carnage. And maybe, just maybe, she could gain access to some information to cause their upheaval. But Delphine had warned against it.

"Even if you made it, by the time you got inside the documents they have would be destroyed. We are going for information. Trust me. My way is better."

They would sneak her in, dressed as a party guest. Tharwen removed her traditional face-paint, and plaited her hair to appear to belong to a more wealthy individual. Tharwen had resigned to following Delphine's advice, and now waited for the right time to make her way to the Winking Skeever, for her rendezvous with Malborn, before she met with Delphine would would supply her the fine clothing and invitation - along with an alias. Sinding sat beside her, ears perked as she watched the people pass by, and Tharwen finally emerged once the sun had risen higher in the sky, and the trails were muddled with merchants and farmers while the Khajiit across from her peddled their wares. Tharwen approached them, maintaining her costume. Ma'dran, who seemed to recognize the wood elf, discreetly treated her as a stranger.

"Khajiit has many wares for you today." His pointed teeth gleamed with his smile.

"My armor for a merchant's robes." Tharwen said quietly.

"May you walk on warm sands…" The cat seemed more than pleased with his transaction, and didn't press her to hand over her boots and cape, when he took the rest. She lost money in the transaction, but knew that she could make the same or better when she could find the time at a forge. Today she had to fit in with the citizens of Skyrim, and as an elf she already felt the disadvantage.

She dressed in the privacy of the bushes by the Khajiit's caravan and handed off her things, keeping her weapons and her gift from Hircine in her pack, along with a custom hood she had made - with a saber-tooth skin, a helmet that made her look like one of the great beasts itself.

Let them think it is a spectre of the Wild Hunt itself. She thought gleefully to herself. She turned to Sinding, who had padded along beside her, and decided that it would be best that he stay behind. She gave him the signal to go hunt and tried to convey the sense of time it might be before she would return. She did not worry for his wellbeing overly-much. The wolf pup had grown as large as the Ice Wolves that populated the North and held his own against creatures greater than himself. He would survive in the wild if she did not return.

Tharwen strode into the city with confidence, and saw a crowd gathered for what appeared to be a public execution. The poor man was speaking and pelted with rotting food. Tharwen ignored the spectacle and headed for the tavern.

Her eyes adjusted to the dim, candlelit interior. The inn was a little crowded, especially on a bright day, while the sun was still high in the sky. She gathered that Solitude was one of the more populated cities in the country, and sensed that refugees were many in number based on some of the weary eyes and ragged clothing. She searched in the darkness for the sign of the one Delphine had described - a Wood Elf, who like Tharwen had a history with the Thalmor that was not altogether pleasant.

She approached the smaller man in the darkest corner of the Inn and sat across from him.

"Delphine sent me." Tharwen whispered.

"You're who she picked?" His voice held a tinge of doubt. Tharwen let it roll away, knowing she looked more like a peasant than a warrior. "Here's the deal, you hand me the equipment you need and I'll smuggle it into the embassy before you get there. They take their security very seriously, so don't bring any weapons with you. I'll make sure it gets to the embassy."

"Understood, brother." She felt his mood lift slightly and she reached into her pack, securing her short-blades a bosmer-style bow and self-fashioned arrows; adding her freshly-made saber-cat helm, cowl and bracers. When she handed over the Savior's Hide his eyes grew wide, and he quickly stuffed it into his pack.

"I haven't seen weapons like these since I was a small child. Where did you find them?"

Tharwen stood, feeling empty with but a dagger. "I made them. Learned in secret while press-ganged by those golden-skinned bastards."

Malborn looked around, stunned and obviously fearful that someone had heard. He turned back to her. "We have a little in common then, sister. I must go. I'll see you at the Embassy tomorrow."

Tharwen nodded and watched him go, before paying for a room and ordering a drink that she didn't touch. She slept soundly in the soft bed, but felt odd to wake up with a roof above her and without the aches of sleeping half-armed. She used the wash-basin to clean herself up once more, once again plaiting her care with as much precision as she could manage and tried to clean the dirt and blood from her fingernails. She tipped the innkeeper for his services, purchases water and set on her way to meet Delphine.

It was still very early, the sun not yet fully shining, and in the mist, she made out the windmill of the quaint farm. Delphine gave her a wry grin as she approached, nodding in tacit approval of her disguise.

"As different as you look, you won't be allowed in wearing that. Here, I brought something for you along with the invitation. Hand over everything - nothing should be out of place."

Tharwen changed and relieved herself of the dagger, sword, a bundle of arrows, and her peasant's clothing. She felt strange without being armed, and even more odd dressed in delicate finery.

"This will have to do." Delphine placed Tharwen's belongings on the horse she had ridden to meet Tharwen. "You'll know where to find me. Don't bother to send a courier - not worth the risk. I'll know if you've perished."

Tharwen cracked a half-smile. "Thanks."

"Now go, the carriage will take you there." Delphine mounted her steed and trotted down the path.

Tharwen nodded to the driver and leapt in.