This Chapter, unfortunately, took a very dark turn. It was something that had to come up in the story, though I may not have delivered it quite as well as I should have. The end of the Windhelm Arc will either be the next chapter, or the chapter after that one.
4E 221, 21st of Sun's Height.
The world formed around her in seconds, allowing her to get up and swing the blade in her right hand. She'd been hit by a mace, her ribs crushed. Not anymore. She spun with speed unnatural to her, cutting her foe in half, spraying blood on the nearby soldiers. She was the only one left of her small group, the others had perished on their reconnaissance mission. Two at the enemy camp, slain by arrows, one shot from behind on the run, and then the last one moments before the last enemy had fallen. Or so she had thought. She heard coughing from behind her, and ran to the young Dunmer's body.
"Hang on, we can make it back to the camp." she assured the elf, picking him up to carry him. The boy gripped her shoulder and grunted in pain. "Put pressure on your wound, try to slow the bleeding." he shook his head, clearing a few strains of his hair from his eyes.
"Run." he told her, trying to get out of her grasp. "Even if we can get away from those chasing us, I will expire before we make it back." she bit the inside of her cheek.
"If you don't stop moving, yes!" she barked, as she started walking quickly in the direction of the camp. "Listen, I am not coming back alone again!" she knew she should've kept it down, if the enemy hadn't found her yet, they definitely heard her and were on their way.
"If you don't leave me here, we will both perish." he told her in a tired and light tone, but one demanding her attention. "They will blast us apart with magicks of unknown power, cut us to ribbons with blades and axes sharper than what any of us use. They will kill both of us." she sighed, but looked onward and continued pushing through the deep snow.
The snow crunched behind her, the tree branches cracked and dropped large piles of frost. As a trained assassin, she was wary, sweating even in the cold of Skyrim's nights. Her heart was beating quickly in her chest, and she could feel her arms shaking. She was a stealth fighter mainly, even if she was adept in open combat, she could only kill one or two people at a time. Her nerves were getting on her, she felt like she was being watched, stalked like prey when she should've been the predator.
In her ears she could hear whispers. Incantations, orders, or questions, she couldn't tell. She could smell the blood of elves in the air, all around her with her reptilian tongue. Her sight was terrible in the darkness of the night, her hands numbed by the cold air, but even with those facts, she could feel eyes on her, and see glints of elven steel.
"We can make it." she said, looking down at his pained expression. He nodded, looking around the area. She noticed how his glowing red eyes darted in every direction, and he was shaking as well. "What's wrong?" he gulped.
"They're everywhere." he said. She wondered how he knew that. "I used a night vision spell, the one my mother taught me years ago, I can see them." she pressed on with much more haste, looking from side to side as she went. "If you leave me now, you might have a chance-"
"Not going to happen." she interrupted, looking at her hands which still held the sword. "I have to get you back. Not only will it be my ass if you die and I come back alone, but it will be an extreme embarrassment for me to return alone yet again." she stopped when he touched her arm. "What is it?"
"Put me down, we have to fight." he said in a low whisper. His voice was fatigued, and his squeeze on her arm was loose and tired. She did as he said, watching him immediately fall to one knee. He held out his arm. "Don't help me up, I have to stand on my own. We can't hold each other up while fighting." he bit down hard on his arm. "I… might be able… to keep myself alive…" she gave him a quizzical look.
"How?" she asked him. The branches parted revealing many Aldmeri soldiers, all armed to the teeth, swords, bows, axes, and magic all aimed at them, ready to kill. In an instant, the Dunmer's entire body became engulfed in flame.
"My Ancestor Guardian will protect me," he strained, burning several wounds by shrinking the fire around him, a feat she'd never heard of being accomplished by any Dark Elf. The enemy made the first move, moving against them quickly. The Dunmer swung out his arms, flinging Firebolts without incanting. Yet another odd sight. The blasts seared straight through the bodies of many of the soldiers surrounding them.
"I'd hope so." she replied, deflecting an arrow to the side with her weapon. She swung in an overhead arc, eviscerating two of the armored elves at once. Magic flew through the darkness, but more than less bounced off of the flaming cloak and hit their own casters.
She continued her cautioned cutting, and fighting, but couldn't see the archers. The arrowheads clanged against her blade, but she couldn't tell from what position the arrows were loosed. She could only see so far because of the Dunmer's flame cloak. She blocked sword strikes and dodged swings from maces and axes. She cut limbs, and split skulls as best as she could muster with her inferior strength. These enemies were built strong, heavy, and bulky. She was built limber, lean, and light.
Her step was interrupted when an arrow lodged itself into her leg. She fell over, rolled behind her next attacker, and killed him with a quick strike. She was already tired, and injured, and about to keel over herself from the previous assault. She stood up again, swinging the blade upwards, cutting her enemy with a killing blow.
An arrow sailed past her, slamming into the Dark Elf's back with incredible force. He coughed out blood, and began falling to his knees. The arrow had passed right through his heart, he would be dead within a few moments. He threw out his arms as he fell.
"Drop to the snow." he told her, as the flame around his body began to creep back into his body, causing an immense concentration of Magicka in a small area. "Tutela tutor, flamma de anima, caro ardeat Dryadalum!" the flame exploded outwards, burning and incinerating everything above the Dunmer's waist, including the Dunmer himself. The Aldmeri Soldiers were dead, and the surrounding trees were burnt and destroyed.
She slowly brought herself up and looked around what she could see. It was on fire, burning and cracking. There was no life in the area, besides her, nothing, not even birds. She hung her head low, her fallen comrade's presence completely destroyed, there was nothing left. She tried to walk, but was forced to crawl, her body too tired to do anything else. Rustling from behind her once she'd made considerable distance made her stop to look back. Sure enough, three enemy men had found her, but by that time she was too fatigued and had lost too much blood to fight back.
"Finish it," she taunted, trying to stand. "If you can…" she couldn't even move her sword arm. The three came forward as her vision seemed to blacken. A quick motion brought her back to the real world, a heavy swing slammed into the enemy, severing two in half and killing the third one just as effectively. She smiled as she recognized the only man she ever knew to be so physically powerful on his own. He rested his greatsword on his cloaked shoulder and smiled with his reptilian teeth and green scaled cheeks.
"I thought that explosion was the last we would ever see of you," Vala said as she caught her. "Damn, don't ever scare us like that again." she looked up at her pale sister of death, and smiled back.
"Shut up, just get me to a healer, or something." she chuckled, her vision fading further. She felt a cold, a dead-like cold, hand touch her face. She started to feel better, and looked up to see who it was.
"We're all here, Shrix." Vale said, her vampiric stare reassuring her. The Khajiit siblings made themselves known from the treetops, their bows ready to fire at any given moment. Shrix lost consciousness before anything else could happen however, and only woke up after they had made it back to the camp.
She stood up on her own after Caro had set her down on a medical bed. After Vale's advanced healing skills, she was almost perfectly fine, just a few fractures and muscle tears that the Vampire still had to fix.
"Fuck, I thought I was going to die," she said as Vale continued healing her. The Vampire wasn't muttering any incantations, or speaking at all, she was just concentrating. A thought popped into her head. "Vale? How much training does it take to cast a spell without any words or incantations?" the Vampire opened her eyes and stopped healing the half-Argonian.
"It depends." she said, looking at Shrix's expression, which was not a happy one.
"On what?"
"On the level of the spell, skill of the mage, and their level of mastery." she replied, thinking of what else, and any example she could bring up. "I would say secondary magical education, at the very least. Magic taught by a tutor, or a low ranking magical adept." Shrix gave her a look that wanted more information. "I've only ever instructed four young Sorcerers in my life. Two when I was an adept at the College of Winterhold, one as an intern at the University in Cyrodiil, and the final one as a Professor at the College again. Actually, it was more like a class in Winterhold, but only one of them was my exclusive student."
"Vale, that isn't an answer to my question." she sighed, thinking of how she could clarify any further. "I mean, how much training does it take to fling a fireball without uttering a word? Like how good at magic would you need to be?" Vale let out a small breath.
"It's different for every person, but usually when they become an Apprentice under an Adept practitioner, they begin to learn how to cast spells below or at their level without speaking. It's one of the first major steps in becoming a mage. The more well known it is to the user, the easier it is to cast." Shrix contemplated what she had said for a brief moment.
"As a Dark Elf, you're naturally gifted in Destruction Magic," she started, remembering what the Vampire had once told her. "You never utter incantations, or words, or anything when you use those types of spells, especially Ice-type ones. Is it because of your intense knowledge of Destruction Magic above all else, or is it an affinity for Frost Magic?" Vale shrugged, and nodded as she moved to sit in front of Shrix to look her in the eyes.
"Okay, I've done… a lot of bad and questionable things in my quest for power and immortality." she said, sitting back a little bit and scratching her head. "It didn't always end well. I ended up a Vampire because of it. I lost my family, and pretty much everything because of it. Being an assassin for as long as I, in a way, it doesn't even compare to some of the stuff I've done." she waved the last bit Vale had said off completely.
"As a Dunmer, you have a magical bloodline ability, don't you?" she asked her, remembering the Flame Cloak the Elf had produced in her battle before her family showed up. "It's like a visible aura, a full-body coat of flame for Dunmer, right?" Vale nodded taken aback by Shrix's question. She stood up and snapped her fingers, making a flaming cloak. It wasn't the same as the Elf she was with.
"Like this, you mean?" Vale asked. "This isn't the real thing, it's a Flame Cloak spell, and it's the closest thing to what you mean." Shrix stood up without feeling any pain.
"Can you show it to me?" she asked, watching Vale's perplexed look nod to her request. After the Flame Cloak was taken off, Vale threw out her arms and her entire body ignited in the same fire as the Dunmer before. It wasn't that it was similar in shape, or color, or look. It was exactly the same as the Dunmer. "Do all of them look the exact same?" Vale gave her a questioning look.
"What?" she asked, narrowing her eyes. "Just 'cause I'm an Elf, and a Mage, doesn't mean we all have the same Ancestor Guardian you know." Shrix narrowed her eyes, wondering how Vale could possibly think like that.
"No, it's the exact same as the Dunmer boy's in the woods. He was even able to shrink and manipulate his." she told her friend, which suddenly got her wondering when Vale's eyes widened. "Do you have brats, or something?" Vale was silent.
"I-I… No, I don't. Not for a long time, but…" she paused, closing her eyes to concentrate. She eventually sighed and opened her eyes. "He was a direct bloodline relative of mine. My great-great-great-great grandson. It's too bad he died, I would have liked to know him." she said the little bit without any emotion, a skill she learned from years of distancing herself from the dead and family. "I shouldn't have gotten to know him, now that I think about it. I am an old lady, one that has outlived her own children several times over."
"He was still family, Vale." Shrix said. "If I had a chance to see my parents again, I would take it without a second thought, you know?" she scratched her head. "I mean, me and father weren't exactly close, but he was always there for me when I really needed it." Vale wasn't even phased by what she was saying. It wasn't odd, actually. Anyone close to Vale wasn't mourned if they died, and even if the boy was family, she was as close to him as a sabre cat could be to a rabbit.
"Anyways, we should get you back in your full gear, we're going back into the field today," she sighed, standing up to leave Shrix by herself. "I'll send over Zassa and Vala." she nodded, and waited for the two others to show up before she started getting ready again. She was already going back into the fight, after just getting back from the enemy lines, the enemy camps, and returning barely alive.
The Khajiit was the first one she noticed when the two girls sat down next to her in the snow. Zassa was freezing her ass off, that much was evident from how her body was shaking. Vala, being a werewolf on top of the fact that she was also a Nord, was perfectly fine, and was in fact almost radiating heat like a forge. Shrix wondered what Darkus, a pure-blooded werewolf's skin was like, whether it was hotter or the same as Vala's. She began wondering what it felt like, but shook her head of those thoughts immediately.
"You seem to be far from the field of battle, Sister." Zassa said, snapping Shrix back into the real world. She stretched her back, working her newly formed muscles.
"Sorry Zassa, I'm just adjusting to the constant fight." she said with irritation in her voice, as she looked over to the captain's tent. "If the idiots just sent us on an assassination mission instead of thief and recon, we could've ended a lot of this fight by now." The Khajiit just held her arms up and shrugged.
"What can we do about it? That man was appointed as our leader, and we don't get a choice what we do." she said, as the 'captain' in question walked out of his tent, looking all high-and-mighty, acting superior. "If we try anything, we get imprisoned and sentenced to death." she watched as the small man consulted with some of the other faction leaders, a few Imperial armored men amongst them.
"We could always kill them…" Shrix sighed under her breath, strapping more of her gear on. Vala and Zassa coughed, having caught what she'd said in her whisper with their advanced hearing.
"Now you're beginning to sound like another werewolf we know…" Riaz said, appearing from behind her. "Riaz hopes he hasn't influenced Shrix from her tempered and focused discipline." she swung her arm back, hitting him in the knees, forcing him to fall.
"I was just emulating his thought process, is all," she said, looking at Riaz as he grabbed his knee and tried his hardest not to yell. "Just what I thought he'd say about now." Riaz went to open his mouth, but Zassa shoved her hand into it, shutting him up quickly.
"It does sound like something he would say," Vala shrugged, handing Shrix an Ebony dagger. She took it and strapped it to her ankle, holding her hand out for her crossbow as well. Vala gave her an odd look.
"What?" she asked, an eyebrow quirked up to emphasise her confusion.
"You haven't taken your crossbow for a long time, what's changed?" Vala asked her, holding out the weapon for her friend anyways. Shrix shrugged, and put it on her back along with some bolts.
"I figure it's probably a better idea for me to carry an extra long-range weapon, one that's silent and guarantees a kill." she replied, standing up and finishing the final fastenings on her armor. She looked over to the officers again. "I'm killing the enemy officers today, no matter what our orders are. If they die, we get a better foothold. Our morale goes up."
"In other words, we're one step closer to winning, right?" Vala concluded, her chin resting in her hand. Shrix nodded with a smile, standing up to make sure she was ready to move. She twisted and punched and kicked, finalizing her self-inspection to ensure a full range of motion in her armor. Just to show off, she did a backflip and stuck it perfectly, without a sound. She let out a breath with happiness. Vale had done her job well.
"With any luck, we'll instill confidence in the main fighters." she told the three, sitting down again. "Spying and espionage is fun and all, but assassination is where the strategy is." she stared back to watch Caro win an arm wrestle with a Nord, who looked like he was about to collapse from exhaustion.
"That poor guy…" Zassa sighed, a light smirk on her face. "Caro's gonna break his arm if he doesn't give up soon." Shrix took note of how effortlessly Caro held the man's arm in place, a small grin gracing his otherwise reptilian features. If the half-Argonian wanted to, he could've easily broken the bones.
"You're getting off on that a little bit too much, don't you think?" Shrix asked her, narrowing her eyes at the sight of the enamored, blushing Khajiit. It was different for the Khajiit than the human and elf races, instead of their faces turning red, their ears would go slightly lax, their eyes would narrow and the pupils become big, and the fur on their cheeks would stand on end. Exactly how Zassa's expression was as she watched the arm-wrestle, throw in a little drool and a slightly stuck-out tongue.
"Huh?" she asked, not paying the slightest attention to Shrix, her gaze fixed on Caro's arm and grin. Shrix tried waving her hand in front of the cat's gaze, get her attention off of Caro, but to no avail. The only thing that got Zassa to take her eyes off of Caro was when they were called to attention by the commander who had somehow snuck up on them.
"At ease, soldiers," the man ordered, pacing with his hands behind his back. "You four, plus three others are one team of infiltrators tasked with the assassination of several large figureheads within the enemy encampment." the Brotherhood children widened their eyes slightly, surprised by the fact that they were finally making a move. "The other team is a distraction, and are being sent in with a large squadron of Infantry troops. In case you are captured, or killed, the names of your assassination targets will be given to you, and only you. One man, one target. Should you be captured, remember that there is no other to kill your target." Shrix thought the order was slightly odd, but at the same time, she understood why it was like that. The man's already serious face turned even more stern as he looked directly at Shrix, grabbing her chin and looking directly into her eyes with malice, and something else that she couldn't quite recognize. "I'm putting you in charge, Lass. This will be your last chance, don't fuck it up, or there will be consequences."
"Yes, Captain," she replied, sweating a little bit because of the disgusting feeling she got from the man. Vala stepped out of line, giving the captain a cold stare.
"Sir, I hardly believe that's fair!" she said to him, making him turn towards her. He walked over to her rather slowly, unnervingly so. "It's not her fault! Maybe if the men you sent out with her had any level of skill in stealth and thievery, she wouldn't return alone all of the-!" the captain had slapped her, hard enough that she, even strengthened by her Lycanthropy, was rocked to the side. Shrix could hardly believe the werewolf didn't transform out of pure rage over being hit by a man who didn't even know what he was doing.
"Quiet, or do you wish to take her place?" the man asked her, raising his hand again. Vala gulped.
"I apologize, Captain," she said, not bothering to touch her cheek lest she be struck further.
"Good. You are to mobilise immediately, without pause." he bit through his teeth, turning to leave the group to allow them time to prepare.
Shrix watched him with narrow eyes as he stalked back to his warm cozy tent. She didn't like the man, not one tiny, little, bit. Not because he was a Nord who saw her as less than a lesser being, but because he gave her a bad feeling.
"Fucking creep…" Vala cursed in a low snarl, taking the group by surprise because of how much ferocity was in her voice.
"Vala…?" Riaz began, getting a glare from the werewolf that made him jump.
"Bastard… That sonovabitch thinks he can touch me like that… thinks he can come near my sisters like that…" she grumbled angrily, her rage seeping off of her into a chill on Shrix's spine.
"Vala, what are you talking about?!" Shrix asked.
"You don't see it, do you? That misogynistic piece of troll shit, he threatened your body just now, and mine along with it!" she barked, just low enough that no one past the third tent would hear. "When he told you about consequences, he literally meant he was going to violate you." Shrix normally would have taken her word as absolute, but lately Vala had been getting more and more paranoid with the population of men that constantly surrounded them.
"Vala, you're reading too much into it… Riaz knows you have better intuition, and you've almost never been wrong about these hunches, but…" Riaz began, scratching his head just below his ears. "There is no way a man like him would even dare attempt such a thing on Shrix or you. He's a man in his later years, a man who would not 'bring himself lower' by frolicing with young girls, especially werewolves and half-lizards." though Shrix wanted to punch him for how he phrased it, the cat was right, and they had to get a move on.
"Okay, that's enough. We can discuss it later when we return from our mission." she finally concluded, getting ready to leave once again.
Varka looked over to the mountains from his position near the campfire. It had been two months, and Varka had not returned to Whiterun, nor barely spoken with his father since they'd met on the road. Vilkas liked to train the boy in combat more than anything else, almost never even talking other than to correct a mistake Varka had made.
Vilkas walked through the small clearing with an animal he was carrying over his shoulder. It was dead, and already gutted as far as Varka could smell and see. The older man dropped the beast on the ground, ripped a large chunk of meat from its body, and started to cook it over the flames.
"Father…" Varka began, trying to get Vilkas' attention, though the man seemed utter focused on roasting his meal. "Why did you go? What reason did you have for leaving me, and Vilka, and mother? How come you never returned?" Vilkas didn't look like he had heard a single thing Varka had said. In heated anger, the boy rose from is log, throwing his sword onto the ground. "Dammit, do you even care that all of our cousins and family are gone?! Uncle Farkas, Aunt Saire, even Sam! They're all gone, and you couldn't care less!" Vilkas' expression hadn't changed, save for his lips were curved downwards in a frown.
"That isn't true, and you know it's not." the man said, standing up straight to look his son in the eyes. "Farkas may not have ever told you, but I kept in touch with him throughout the years." Varka wondered what he had meant by it, but in a way, didn't care.
"I don't give a damn about some stupid that!" he barked, taking a step forwards. Vilkas' expression remained the same. "You left! You disappeared, you don't have the right to talk to me about what you did and didn't do!" Vilkas made a swift movement, and knocked Varka's feet out from under him.
"Get off your ass, kid." he ordered in a stern voice with a straight face. Vilkas drew the beat up greatsword from his back. "Take up your blade, or fall to me as you are!" Varka instantly accepted the challenge, swinging forward with all his might in rage. It was already over. Vilkas deflected the blade like it were nothing, punched Varka in the stomach hard enough to knock the wind out of him, and then kicked him hard, the force throwing Varka into a nearby tree. Varka coughed as he rose to his feet. "Control your temper, right now, and sit the fuck down!" surprised by Vilkas' sudden shift in mood, Varka gulped and did as he was told.
"Yes, Father," he said, sitting calmly on the log, waiting for Vilkas to speak. The old Nord crouched in front of the younger one, and messed up his hair, leaving his hand atop the red mane.
"Are you going to listen?" he asked, gaining a small glare from Varka. "I will answer any question you have, after I finish speaking." Varka nodded, allowing Vilkas to sit down across from him. "As twins, you and your sister care for one another, you two do anything to protect one another, even if it puts your lives in danger. Farkas made sure certain letters were getting to me, and mine were getting back to him." Varka didn't understand what he meant, causing Vilkas to laugh. "Yes, I know it sounds stupid, and doesn't make much sense now, but it will. Eventually."
"That's, er, great…" Varka sighed, more confused than not at his father's words.
"Alright, now to answer your question," he began, shifting in his spot. "I do care about you, your mother, and your sister. It's because I care that left." Varka began to look angry again, which, considering his red hair and warpaint, wasn't that hard for him to accomplish. "I had something extremely important to do, something that could change the outcome of the war."
"Father, we already know the Dominion is assaulting Windhelm. If you want to make a difference, take your 'new skills' there." the boy interrupted, making Vilkas let out a small sigh. "If your skill is so important, than take it into the fight!"
"It's not for the Dominion, but for something else." he told Varka, pulling the second greatsword he carried from behind the rock. The blade was tinted blue, engraved with a lizard of some kind, and seemed to flash the color of the moon. "I take it by now you have fought and slain a Dragon?" Varka shrugged.
"I mean, I have fought a Dragon, but…" he began, reliving the day he was stupid enough to go looking for one. "It kind of left those scars on my back… After uncle Farkas showed up to save my ass. Thank the Divines he didn't tell mother…" Vilkas almost couldn't hold himself off from laughing.
"I suppose you thought you could handle the beast on your own, huh?" he asked Varka, gaining a shake of his head.
"Not exactly. We thought we could handle a Dragon on our own," he started, watching as Vilkas' forehead dropped into his palm.
"No…" he groaned, looking back up only slightly. "You didn't-?"
"Yes, Vilka went with me." he finished, watching Vilkas drop his head back into his palms. "Well, hey, she wasn't hurt, you know, too bad."
"Her Beast Blood saw to that, I'm sure." Vilkas said, letting out a final groan, probably wondering how he'd let it get that far. After finishing, he held up the sword again. "Anyways, I went looking for this Blades' sword. It was a weapon forged by the Akavir- an ancient race of men- for the very purpose of destroying a Dragon's body. From what I was able to dig up, both literally and figuratively, was that the blade was so powerful that one swing from a worthy warrior would cleave clean through a Dragon's hide." Varka raised an eyebrow. "Unfortunately, I was unable to find the actual weapon, and had to forge this one myself."
"So this is a replica?" he asked his father, looking closer at the magnificent blade. Vilkas shook his head.
"Not quite, I'm sure the real blade is much more magnificent, as technically the blade would belong to the Akaviri Dragonguard." he answered, stabbing the sword into the ground, watching as the pale light flashed into the dirt. "This is an original, I've never tested it, so I won't know if I succeeded in making the weapon, not until we face a Dragon. For all I know, I've enchanted the blade to cause paralysis on touch."
"What is it made out of?" Varka asked, intrigued by the blade's coloring.
"Moonstone, Oricalchum, and Ebony." Vilkas replied, pulling the blade from the dirt, swinging it quickly in several directions, letting the pale light trail behind the swings. "It is very strong, and will not break for anything less than a Dragon's maw." after placing the weapon back down, he looked at Varka again. "Anything else?"
"Just one, when are we going home?" he replied, looking Vilkas dead in the eyes. The Nord sighed, yet again, and dug around in his bag for a small emerald necklace. Varka looked at the piece of jewelry, which was either homemade, or very expensive… maybe even at the cost of some blood. Vilkas scratched his head as his eyes seemed to close a little bit.
"Well, er, you see…" he began trying to think of a quick way to put it. He seemed to think of something he may be able to turn into a joke as he smirked for a moment. "If I go back to Whiterun now, empty handed after all these years with nothing to give your mother, she will have my ass- and not in the fun way-"
"Ew, dad!"
"-She might actually cut off my ass and nail it on her wall, not exactly a fun time for pops, right?" he concluded, ending his sentence with a light chuckle, although Varka looked disgusted. "So does it look good enough to save my life?" Varka looked at the green and golden amulet's intricate design, a wolf, and shrugged.
"I dunno, maybe?" he said. From what he knew throughout his life, his mother didn't seem to care too much about jewels, so Varka was unsure whether or not his father would get to live or not when they returned to Jorrvaskr. "It's hard to tell, mom never really liked jewelry too much, and she usually just looses arrows at your feet without asking questions, so if you're lucky you'll get back home while she's asleep."
"Hey, don't forget that you also left without telling your mother. You're in the exact same situation I am." Vilkas told the younger Nord. "Er, well, mostly the same anyways. At least you aren't married to her."
"Dad, you aren't married to her either…" Varka murmured under his breath, looking off to the side a little bit. Realizing his father was right, Varka shot straight up with his hands on either side of his head. "Shit!" he yelled, pacing around, muttering incomprehensible little grunts as he went, until he suddenly stopped, pointing a finger at Vilkas. "I'm fucked! You're fucked! We're fucked!"
"Lady Mara," he cursed under his breath. "What's wrong with you now?"
"Mother! Don't you get it?!" he screamed, quickly crouching down behind the logs, shooting a suspicious glare around like a cat. "She's going to find us, and drag us back home… but we can outsmart her!" Vilkas' half-done-with-this-shit expression at Varka's borderline insanity was truly something to behold, if the boy's statement didn't yield some actual fact.
"You can outsmart, who now?" Aela asked, landing between the two men with a loud thump. She had jumped from the treetops above the two. She turned to glare menacingly into Varka's soul, nearly making him fall backwards from where he was crouched.
"Aela dear, take a moment to-" Vilkas was cut off as the werewolf covered his mouth with her hand. She seemed to make an angry pout.
"Not one word from you- not right now." she bit, her voice cold enough to scare an Frost Atronach back to Oblivion. She waited for his eyes to roll, and his head to nod, before she removed her hand and stumbled over to where Varka was. "Speak, brat!" she barked, making Varka shrink in place, and gulp.
"Y-yes, ma'am!" he replied, standing up to stare the slightly shorter older woman in her eyes. Vilkas seemed surprised at Varka's lack of any confidence or bravery in the presence of his mother. "Erm, Father was asking me what we could do to hide our scents, and-"
"That is not true!" Vilkas barked back in outrage that Varka attempted to throw him under the mammoth. With an amber glare, Aela put him back in his place. Vilkas was a skilled warrior, but to tempt fate by braving a werewolf filled to the brim with rage and anger was more suicide than anything. After he stood up as well, the werewolf backed up to him, and leaned against his Wolf Armor, using him as a massive wall.
"I heard everything, so there's no point in lying to me," she told the two, her arms folded across her chest. With a light sigh, she pulled the two taller Nords into her arms, and hugged them. "I'm just glad the both of you are safe. Especially the boy." exhaling a small breath of relief, the two thought they had gotten off of her bad side. "However, both of you are going to face punishment for the strain you've placed upon my heart."
"Yes, mother," Varka said, breaking free of Aela's grip, and treading over to one of the fur tents, stripping off the armor he was wearing down to his shirt and pants. "You two, um, have a lot to talk about…"
The pair watched the boy crawl into the bedroll, and slowly fall asleep. Without a moment's hesitation, Aela turned completely around, and punched Vilkas hard in the jaw. He fell over from the strength she'd put behind it, but was holding onto her when she hit him, and the two tumbled onto the ground rather loudly.
"Fuck, you've still got an excellent left hook," he said, massaging the side of his jaw while wrapping his other arm around her waist. He was grinning even though the force from her punch opened a gash. "Glad to see you haven't softened up in the last little while. Have you had any fun since I left?" with a frown and furrowed brows, the werewolf traced his jaw and prodded the bloodied flesh.
"Shut up, I'm loyal to you," she replied, sitting up and flicking his forehead. "Besides, we have other things to talk about." he squinted slightly.
"Like what? You heard everything Varka and I talked about before, what else is there to talk about?" he asked her, sitting up and stretching out to rid his limbs of the soreness they would gain from taking a tumble in heavy steel. Unclasping the buckles and fastenings that held his body encased in a steel shell, Aela pulled his torso free. The armor was heavy, making her wonder how he was wearing it at all.
"Well, for one thing, maybe you were wondering what your children have been up to of late?" she wondered, throwing the heavy plates aside before removing his gauntlets and boots, leaving him in the dark bandage coverings. He nodded, twisting his stiff torso to loosen it up.
"It crossed my mind, maybe once or twice," he shrugged, taking one of the silver streaks of her hair between his fingertips. He liked the color, it was much more likeable to him than his greying mane of black hair. "You have aged extremely well…" without paying attention to his compliment, she pushed him down to lay on his chest.
"Your daughter has taken a liking to Al's boy," she told him with a light chuckle, hearing his heartbeat through his thickly muscled chest. "Not that it matters, as she seems bent on killing just about every creature she can in Skyrim." Vilkas shrugged.
"That doesn't surprise me. Al was extremely powerful and intelligent, I'm positive his son turned out the same way," he replied, looking at the red head of hair below his chin. Aela laughed a little bit as he finished his sentence. "What is it?"
"Darkus isn't like Al at all," she told the Nord. "For one thing, the boy looks like his mother. He is much thinner than many warriors, despite his strength. The last time I checked, he was strong enough to rival Farkas, the brute…" she suddenly stopped at the mention of Vilkas' dead brother. "I mean, you wouldn't expect much from him."
"Varka mentioned that the two went after a dragon on their own. How did that actually play out?" he wondered, trying to get the subject back on his son and daughter. Aela let out a strained sigh, and rubbed her temples.
"Your idiot son thought it would just be a great honor to slay a godly beast." she told him, sounding like she wanted nothing to do with that conversation either. "Anyways, Vilka decided not to learn how to use a blade during the small adventure she and her brother shared. She came back and didn't look at any of the close range fighters for almost a month."
"I would assume she learned from that experience and started training with a dagger?"
"Yes," she replied. "Darkus taught her. The boy is surprisingly proficient with many weapons. He favors longswords, but is also an expert with daggers and bows." Vilkas raised an eyebrow before relaxing it.
"What else would you expect from living with Lydia? The woman is a Nord warrior after all, she would make sure the boy was highly skilled." he chuckled, thinking of what else to say on the subject. "I have never actually met him before, how good is he?"
"Very. Sam and Varka had a hard time fighting him two against one." she told him, letting out a light sigh. "Darkus has speed, intelligence, and power on his side. He can aim and shoot a bow better than I could at his age, and anything and everything he can hold can be used as his weapon."
"He sounds like a Khajiit Monk," Vilkas surmised, briefly remembering the encounter he and Al had with a group one time when the two had left to for a job. With a small amount of realization as he said it, his jaw dropped. "Lydia didn't…"
"She did," Aela confirmed with a small nod. "A few years in Elsweyr, and Lydia's continuous training has made him quite the effective killing machine, even in his human form." before Vilkas could even ask, Aela was already answering his next question. "He was born a werewolf. I and Lydia have had trouble dealing with his uncontrollable transformations-"
"Is that how you got those scars?"
"-yes, now let me continue." she replied, a small hint of annoyance in her voice. "You would not believe how strong he is when he transforms. The beast is a terrifying sight as well, truly a wild animal, but anyways, he trained with a monk among a group of other acolytes. From what I heard, Darkus had left the acolytes early because of a small incident regarding the murder of several students."
"Did Darkus kill his fellow acolytes?" he asked his wife, slowly getting up again to carry her to his tent. She saw what he was doing, and immediately broke free from his arms. "What is it?" she was shaking her head and crossed her arms.
"I am not sleeping with you in a tent less than six feet away from our lycanthropic son." she declared absolutely, planting her feet into the ground. Vilkas raised an eyebrow, picking up a rag from inside the tent, and held it to his wound.
"Huh. I didn't think you wanted to do anything with me the night I got back," he told her, taking the bedroll from the inside before walking back to his wife. "You sure are fast to forgive me." he threw the blankets on the ground and crawled in, motioning for her to join him. Suppressing a small smile, Aela rolled her eyes and took off her armor, laying next to him before he pulled the blankets to cover them both.
She was amused that he had such a large bedroll, but didn't mind it as she was much warmer than he was, and he was a lot bigger than the last time she saw him. His shoulders were broader and his torso thicker, unlike his younger self. His beard and hair were generally the same, save for a few more braids holding his greying mane back. His eyes were the same though, white and hard to look at without having to squint or look away, much like his daughter's.
She was not happy that he had left, and was more curious of why he had left in the first place. There was another, more pressing matter that the two needed to talk about, but Aela didn't feel the need to bring it up until Vilkas was the one who brought it up. She was still wearing the golden band the Nord had given her months before he left.
"What is that on your finger?" he asked her, taking her hand in his own to feel around the ring. He let out a laugh on her forehead, and gave the Nord a kiss, which she haughtily wiped off. "You're still wearing the ring, after all these years?" she flicked his forehead.
"Of course I did, you never called the wedding off, you know." she replied, hugging herself closer to his body. Just like he always had, he wrapped his arms all the way around her to keep any amount of space between their two bodies non-existent. She felt him brush her hair back, and plant another kiss on her forehead. "Do you still want to marry me?"
"Aye, I do, Aela." he answered her as he pulled her head closer to his chest. "Tomorrow, we make for Whiterun." his hand clasped around her's once again. "And if you still want to, we can get married within the next few weeks."
"Why else would I still wear the ring?"
"That's a pretty good point," he laughed in reply, falling asleep not long after.
Shrix pulled the tight cowl around her head, tucking her hair within as she pulled the mask past her nose. She was alone, her group had just split away to prepare for their own individual assignments. She pulled out the small letter from the inside of her armor, and opened it. She sighed as she realized she had no idea who her target was. She had nothing on them. No information on their behaviour, their sex, their habits. She was going to kill someone she knew absolutely nothing about, someone who was a complete mystery.
'No wonder these Nords haven't won the battle yet,' she groaned, slowly scaling down the mountain without a sound. It was bad enough that she was tired, clumsy, and injured, but now she was going to attempt to assassinate someone who, for all she knew, was a Master Wizard who had also mastered swordplay.
It was cold and annoyingly dark from where she stood, the camps lit up like a city on New Year's, enticing her to come within the light. Of course, she knew she had no choice but to go through the camp without the shadows on her side. Thankfully, Shrix and her brother were born under the sign of the Shadow, and could turn invisible for a ten minutes at will once per day, requiring little of her inborn Magicka.
She realized that she would need it for an escape once everything went to the Void, and started to very carefully make her way through the camp, hiding whenever she thought someone could see her. Although it made her terribly slow, and she was able to eavesdrop on various soldiers who talked about her target. As it turned out, Eilia Iovis was a womer, and was very good with melee weapons. Unfortunately, she was unable to get anything else on her. There was no more information she could get from them.
As she approached her tent, she could hear sounds coming from the inside. Moaning and small screams, of what Shrix could only assume, were pleasure, came from the inside as she slowly made her way inside. Thankfully for her, it was extremely dark within, and she was able to enter without a sound. As she readied her crossbow to fire, she noticed that there were two people in the bed on the opposite side of the tent. Slightly embarrassed at what she had just barged in on, and was going to have to literally cut off, she made her way closer.
She silently placed the cocked weapon on her back and drew two small Ebony Daggers, making her plan in her head as quickly as she could. She was a little too late, as the two Altmer finished their sexual acts moments before Shrix was able to decide what to do. As the male of the two larger Elves stepped out of the bed, mere inches away from her, she was startled and jumped straight up, cutting his throat and ending his life at the same time.
Without waiting for even a moment, the Assassin pounced upon her real target, and stabbed the dagger straight down, impaling the Altmer woman's left breast, and piercing her heart. The Altmer made an effort to kill Shrix before she died, and pulled the cowl from her head, leaving four long gashes on the side of Shrix's face as her hand fell and she began to drown in her own blood. Quickly realizing the Elf's scream was going to get her discovered, Shrix pulled her daggers out, and slammed them both through her target's eyes, effectively killing her.
Sheathing the daggers, Shrix dove through the flap of the tent, activating her Moonshadow power as she entered the light, hiding herself from hostile stares. As the various soldiers ran into the tent, finding their leader dead, Shrix nimbly dove and rolled around them, making almost no sound as she quickly maneuvered her way farther and farther from the enemy Captain's tent.
"Everyone on high alert!" she heard someone yell, approaching a with a mass of Altmer soldiers. Shrix didn't think it could get worse, that was, until she saw Vale emerge from the shadows in a set of Dominion armor. She walked straight up to the mer in charge, standing at attention like all the others. "Several of our officers have been found dead! Fan out and find the assassins!" Shrix noticed the small spark of crimson fire in Vale's hands, feeling her heart suddenly drop into her stomach.
Vale, for whatever reason, couldn't tell that Shrix was there, and from what Vale had told of her various adventures making locations where her targets resided blow halfway to the planes of Oblivion. Not liking where that was going, Shrix broke her restraint and bolted in the opposite direction of Vale and the soldiers, accidentally knocking into one and falling over as Vale began to incant the spell. As the heat from the massive wave of blood-red flame reached Shrix's skin, the half-Argonian stabbed the soldier she knock into, embedding the dagger into his back, and pulling him over her as a shield as the world around her became engulfed in fire.
She coughed as she pulled herself from the still hot ashes of the Mer and the surrounding leather tents. The only thing that kept her from being burned was the Altmer armor, which she could tell was enchanted thanks to Vale. Not much time seemed to have passed, as the area was still completely clear of any soldiers or mages, enemy or ally. With soreness screaming in her arms and legs, she stood up and wiped her face of the ash and sweat that covered it. The camp wasn't even recognizable, just snow and ice covered in ash.
She slowly started a limping walk back in the direction she came from, but the air was heavy and hard to breath. It burned her throat, made her want to throw up, drop onto her knees, and stop completely. It scorched her eyes and made it hard to see, stuck to her tongue and the roof of her mouth. The blast had made it hard for her to hear, but since it wasn't too loud she probably wouldn't suffer hearing loss from it.
The screams and war cries sent electricity through her spine, forcing her legs to move and propel her into the trees where she could hide. As she let herself rest, the small army of Elves marching to meet Nordic soldiers on the battlefield passed by, nearly paralyzing her out of fear. She felt a hand close over her mouth, and out of instinct, tried to bite down into it, but couldn't. The man's strong arms held her still as he let a low familiar hiss escape his mouth.
"Quiet, Sister!" he whispered urgently in her ear. After a moment, Shrix's arms and legs went slack, her chest lowering as she let out a deep breath that she had been holding. Caro smiled his rare toothy Argonian grin as he released his hand from her mouth. After the Elves had long passed, the two finally stood up. "I was wondering where you had ended up."
"Sorry, Vale's target got into my area, so I was there when the camp exploded." she apologized, keeping herself steady despite the screaming pain in her left leg. Caro let loose his trademark argonian rasp, a laugh of sorts, one of the things that only her brother inherited from Swim. "It is not funny, brother,"
"No, it isn't- not to you," he said to her, looking over their shoulders to ensure they hadn't been followed. "However, to me it's absolutely hysterical." she grumbled as the two traversed the hills and pines silently, only stopping when the pair finally reached the tents of their encampments.
Upon noticing their return, Caro let go of his sister and ran forward to catch Zassa in his arms. She let out a relieved and somewhat teary breath as his arms wrapped around her waist and pulled her off of the cold Skyrim ground. Even Shrix could tell from where she stood that Zassa was shaking as much from the cold as relief. Looking at the sight, Shrix let out her mother's Nordic laugh, and continued a slow walk over the fire she and the others usually hung around. Upon sitting down, she realized that Vala was missing from the rest of the group, and wondered if she'd gotten stuck out in the cold.
"What happened to your armor?" Vale asked her with a raised brow, looking at the charred studded leather.
"You know exactly what happened to my armor," she replied with a sigh of pain as her adrenaline wore off, and she began to feel the full effects of her injured leg. "And speaking of what happened, you think you can spare me some of that Magicka for my leg?" the Vampire shrugged and wandered over, a pale golden glow encasing her dark palms as they ran the length of Shrix's shin. The Vampire let out a light sigh.
"Your leg is broken, I'm surprised you were able to stay awake, let alone walk on it," she said, narrowing her eyes at a sight only she seemed able to view. With a small pop and cracking feeling in Shrix's leg, the half-Argonian yelped in pain. "Then again, maybe it isn't. It's probably just a fracture."
"Thanks, sister," she said with a small grin. The Dark Elf wasn't smiling, far from it in fact. "What's wrong?"
"Vala should've been back over twenty minutes ago, that's what." she replied rather cold and stone-like.
"Vala went somewhere? Why? I was put in charge, wasn't I?" she asked, pulling the sword from her back and stabbing it into the ground to use as a makeshift cane. Vale nodded.
"Yes, however when you did not return with the rest of us, the Vala insisted on speaking to the Captain, saying she was your second in command, to get a search party for your body." she answered, her arms crossed over her chest. "Caro left before any decision was made, and now you are both back. Vala should have been here before the two of you." Shrix gulped.
"Hey, Vale, you don't think-?"
"That's exactly what I'm thinking." the Vampire cut in with a sharp voice. "A strong older man and a young woman in an enclosed room together. It's the perfect opportunity for anything to happen." Shrix began to walk when Vale started moving in the direction of the Captain's tent. "Even as strong as Vala is with her Beast Blood, it only takes a silver ring, or enchanted leather bindings, to render her power useless."
Vale stopped just outside of the tent, and a look of uttermost rage crossed her face, accompanied by terror, and fear. Shrix knew that whatever the Vampire had heard, whatever the Elf had felt, it was enough to make her freeze in her tracks. With newfound resolve and anger of her own, Shrix drew the crossbow from her back, and pulled open the flap of the dark tent.
There were sounds of leather straining, gagged and muffled screams of agony and torture. Terrible sounds of whispered yelling and a leather whip cracking. Shrix gulped again, a large lump in her throat as her eyes fell upon a truly brutal, terrible, enraging sight.
"I should have listened to her earlier," she said to herself as she growled and bared her teeth, her fingernails digging into her palms and drawing blood. The Nordic man, old and stupid, truly a masterpiece of the world's trash, was going to die for his crimes. "Vala, he is going to die. I'm going to kill him right now. For what he's done to you, there is no forgiveness! There is no slow end to his suffering!"
"I send you-" She began, discarding the crossbow in favor of the longsword, as she swung the heavy blade upwards, cleaving the man's forearms and lower jaw from his body. "-TO THE VOID!" as the Nord fell backwards, Shrix stabbed the black sword straight down through the man's torso, not killing him yet however. Drawing her remaining dagger, Shrix began to carve and mutilate the body, even long after he had died, until the red-hot rage in her heart subsided.
Hearing Vala's muffled cries of pain and terror were what made Shrix return to the real world around her. With a quick few motions, Shrix severed Vala's restraints, and ungagged her. The Nord embraced her thought lost sister, her wails now audible to all who dared listen. After a few moments, Vala, enraged beyond rational thought, destroyed the remainder of the Nord's body, screaming guttural curses at the top of her lungs. When the tent opened again, it was Riaz who had rushed in to see what was happening.
"Vala!" he called, his Night Eye allowing him to see what was going on in perfect light. He pulled off the loose shirt he had been wearing and covered her in it, looking at Shrix for an answer, any at all, of what else he could do to help. Shrix's face was blank, as though she wasn't there at all. She didn't know what to do either. After a moment, Riaz grabbed a fur from the floor of the tent, and wrapped Vala in it, quickly scooping her up off the ground, and carrying her outside into the break of dawn's light.
"It's my fault…" Shrix uttered in a hollow voice, tears dropping from the tip of her nose as her eyes followed the pair out, quickly accompanied by her body. The Nords, Elves, Khajiit, Argonians, and whoever else just stood with confused looks on their faces. Everyone had heard the screams of rage and the sounds of brutal murder, but she didn't think anyone could actually believe it.
From what Shrix was seeing, Vala had begun transforming. Her claws were tearing into Riaz's back, but he seemed to either not care, or ignore it completely. His blood was going through his armor, painting the dark armor crimson. She watched her shudder and growl the entire time they walked towards the campfire Vale and the others were sitting next to. The Vampire sat with a blank stare, her head in her hands, Zassa and Caro each reeling from what Vale had told them.
Shrix looked over her shoulder, watching countless soldiers flood into the Captain's tent and then come right back out covering their mouths in shock. She personally thought that the man deserved it, though the views of the others may not be like her own. Hearing a sound of bone-crunching against wood, Shrix looked back to her family, seeing Caro holding his now broken hand with his eyes glowing golden and reptilian. That was new. Caro and her both had sapphire eyes which they'd gotten from their mother.
"That sonovabitch!" he cursed, the veins in his temples popping out.
"Quiet! This one does not need be reminded so soon!" Riaz ordered of the half-Argonian, a snarl on his otherwise calm face, his ears pressed flat against his skull. Vala's eyes burned bright amber as her jaw and body began to shift in shape. Shrix hurried to make the Khajiit put her down, but wouldn't get there in time.
"Riaz! Put her down, now!" She called as she closed in on the transforming Werewolf and Cathay-Raht. Riaz paid Shrix no attention, even as his sister, Vale, and Caro began to back away. By that time, Shrix was amazed by Riaz's strength, able to hold almost three hundred pounds of muscle off the ground without straining. It would get worse, as Vala was still only halfway through the transformation. "Riaz!"
"What?!" he asked, turning to face her, holding Vala's head carefully against his chest. The dark fur the both of them were now sheathed in blended perfectly together, and Shrix could see that while enraged, Vala was trying her hardest to keep the monster within from tearing into Riaz.
From afar, the battle in Yngol's field could be seen. The flashing lights of Magic and the cries of war could draw the attention of someone who had lesser hearing and sight. Riaz was walking in that direction with Vala when he was stopped, and Shrix soon realized that he himself had his weapons strapped to his person.
"You're sending Vala into the battle?!" she exclaimed as Riaz put the Lycanthrope on the ground. Even as a Werewolf, Vala was only a little over a head taller than the Khajiit, but was much, much larger in size because of the thickness of her muscles, and her muscle density. Riaz drew his weapon as he pointed Vala to the battle with a stern expression.
"Riaz will join the battle, with Vala alongside him," he replied, marching after the enraged Werewolf. "Vala needs to let loose, if she keeps it within herself, it will only burn more fiercely." he stopped and looked back at them once more. "In all honesty, Riaz feels rage in his heart. The battle will be ended, and then we will decide who else to kill upon the atrocities that have befallen Vala this night."
"Brother does not think to assassinate Ulfric, does he?" Zassa asked him. Without another word, the Khajiit ran after Vala's tracks towards the field of battle. Zassa reeled from the blank and emotionless glare she had gotten from her brother, it was something none of them had ever encountered before. Riaz lost his temper eventually at times, causing fights with his family, but he was almost always a fun-loving cat with his own views on life. Riaz, the man who hated being an assassin as a profession, was now plotting the rage-fueled murder of Skyrim's High King. "Why?"
"Let's go. We cannot allow anything to happen on that battlefield." Caro told them, his eyes still burning golden in their sockets as he lifted his sword over his shoulders and started to walk after them. "I will not sit idly by, waiting for a battle to end while my brother stands in the field with an unclear head. We can't let them do this alone."
Taro-Li coughed and retched as she hauled herself from the cold puddle of icy water. Judging from her surroundings, she was somewhere in the northern reaches of Winterhold. She hissed and cursed as she shook the water from her Dragonscale armor, and began walking towards the city. She could not believe those pirate scum, crashing their ship so far away from land. The bastards took a small fortune from her and threw it into the depths, allowed her to drift back to Skyrim after she spent so much money on the expedition to Akavir.
At the very least, she hoped Line was alright back in Breezehome and would be preparing her a warm meal. The Nord boy was her Housecarl, after all. She would have to apologize to him when she returned home for not writing him a letter in two months. Thankfully, she was also the Thane of Winterhold, and would be able to purchase safe travel from the carriages there.
As she approached the city, she could see the Guardsmen lined up and holding walls, dressed in their normal armor. She narrowed her crimson eyes. "Strange, I could have sworn the Imperial Legion was stationed here…" she said to herself, taking her time to get closer to the gates, her hand on the Dragonbone Dagger upon her hip. She had a bad feeling.
"Hold there, Argonian," the only guard that approached her ordered. He was a Breton of tall and broad stature, his voice carrying power within it. "What business do you have entering the city?" Li was outraged by this Breton's lack of respect.
"The Thane of Winterhold, wish to enter, my business is my own." she replied with a sharp hiss. The Breton's eyes narrowed as he looked from side to side before grabbing Li and pulling her to the large rocks.
"Be quiet, I have a couple questions that only you can answer." he said, making sure he couldn't be heard. "What's your name? What year were you in?" Li gave him a confused look, and wrestled her arm from him.
"What the fuck kind of questions are those?" she asked him. "I'm the Dragonborn, Taro-Li, it's the year two hundred seven, why do you need to be told that?" with an irritated sigh, the Breton cursed and pulled his guard armor off, revealing himself to be in ebony chainmail and platemail.
"The questions a confused Dragonborn asks another." he replied, his voice now carrying the power she had heard from the Greybeards during her time atop the Throat of the World. "We aren't in our own worlds anymore. I don't know where we ended up, or why we came here, but if it was important enough that two Dragonborn now exist outside of their worlds, it cannot possibly be anything good."
For those wondering about the end of this chapter, it will be explained later on. Theories for it are welcome, and I would enjoy reading them as well, but I think you'll find the explanation pretty interesting. It ties into the reason Alduin has returned in a human form as well.