Nightmares. They'd never been a problem for Vareysa, even after a good ninety-two years of living, getting into trouble, and witnessing things she'd rather forget. But that was it – she did forget. Few things affected her, simply because she didn't dwell on what had passed and was beyond helping. It was a lack of conscience, she figured, or a certain kind of coldness, selfishness; and in her line of work, this detachment was a boon. Which assassin would ponder how their target was a charitable person or a loving parent, after all?

No, she was glad not to care – and thus be spared from past events that would otherwise haunt her. The same, however, couldn't be said for her current companion.

The ragged cry startled Vareysa awake in an instant, body tensing for action as she pushed herself up from bed, reaching under her pillow for the concealed dagger. Her right hand gleamed purple with a spell of life detection, but as her vision adjusted to the darkness of night, the spike of adrenaline slowly faded when she realised there were only two other life signatures in the room. One was on the ground, moving to the bed where another, larger life sign sat.

Vareysa let go of her dagger and dissipated the spell, surprised as she watched Aneril sitting hunched over her knees, breaths wracked with choked sobs. Rising from bed, Vareysa padded over to her companion, but stopped by the door when someone knocked. She opened it to find the inn's Bosmer maid, looking quite concerned. Vareysa smiled and whispered 'bad dreams', reassuring the woman before she shut the door lightly.

Then she went to Aneril's bed, nudging aside the cub's head so she could sit beside the Altmer, who barely noticed their presence. Aneril's shoulders were shaking, head bent as she continued to cry in that odd, stuttering manner – as if she was fighting to stop the tears, but wanted to let go at the same time. Her face was hidden behind her loose blonde hair, and Vareysa stopped herself before combing the hair back, knowing Aneril would want this modicum of privacy.

"Aneril," Vareysa said gently. She rested a hand on Aneril's back, only to have Aneril jerk away from her touch in reflex, gasping in alarm. "Relax. It's me."

She rubbed Aneril's back in comfort, but when it seemed to have no effect, Vareysa circled an arm around her shoulders. She's really shaking, Vareysa noted, feeling the tremors in Aneril's body as if she was caught in a snowstorm. She hugged Aneril firmly to offer some support and warmth, then reached down to gently grasp Aneril's hand that was gripping tightly onto her pants. Again, Aneril jerked at the contact, but her fingers were dug too tightly into fabric to move away.

"It's okay. It was just a dream," Vareysa murmured, though she was unsure if Aneril heard her. The Altmer remained hunched over, breaths more erratic and rough as if trying to gather herself under Vareysa's eye. "Don't force yourself. Cry if you need to. You don't have to…"

An odd, strangled sound from Aneril's throat – somehow, Vareysa didn't doubt it was a protest from the proud Altmer.

"Aneril, it's okay. You're safe here." She reached up blindly to touch Aneril's cheek, stroking tear-stained skin with her fingers. Other than Aneril's trembling, she didn't try to move away – surprisingly. So Vareysa took a chance and ran her fingers through Aneril's hair, then guided the Altmer's head close. It was not without resistance, but Aneril eventually rested her head on Vareysa's shoulder, though her face was still turned downward in a futile attempt to hide herself.

"It's okay," Vareysa repeated, now able to circle both arms around Aneril, holding her firmly. She wished she was a little taller to accommodate the Altmer's height, but Aneril started curling up into herself, the tension in her body falling away the longer Vareysa held and patted her soothingly.

Vareysa had closed her own eyes by the time Aneril's tears stopped, sobs faded into quiet hiccups. She angled her chin down, brushing over the top of Aneril's head which had nestled tighter into her neck, and smiled when she noticed the hand clinging onto her shirt. Vareysa kept quiet though, still aware of her companion's sniffling, and minute quivers in her body.

They stayed like this in silence for a long while – Vareysa briefly distracted by the tiger's chuffs, before sending him back to sleep with a wave of her hand. She glanced down when Aneril's head nodded from her shoulder, then nestled back into her again. Vareysa had to repress an amused huff, so she wouldn't wake Aneril; and after a moment's thought, she shifted her position very carefully, and laid smoothly down on the bed with Aneril still huddled close to her.

No reaction from Aneril – a good sign. She needed some rest for the moment, without having to worry about anything else.

Must be the worst she's had so far. Vareysa sighed quietly, fingertips grazing over mussed blonde hair. Aneril was resting quite heavily on her shoulder, but Vareysa wasn't inclined to disturb her companion just yet.


When Aneril stirred, her head was heavy, but thankfully spared from an ache that typically followed restless nights.

Restless.

Her recollection was slow, and started trickling in when she realised she wasn't alone in bed. Her face was in someone's hair, head on their shoulder, and she could feel the gentle rise and fall of their chest. Unconsciously, Aneril started to turn her face into the warmth, when she – wait.

Aneril jerked her head up, and was greeted with the lazy red-eyed gaze of her traveling companion.

"Good morning," Vareysa said, but it only made Aneril sit up even quicker, putting more distance between them. "Not one for pillow talk, huh?"

At Vareysa's chuckle, heat rose to Aneril's cheeks. She turned away from Vareysa, scooting just a little farther from her.

Vareysa sat up beside her, and laid a hand on her back. "Feeling better?"

Aneril didn't reply, still piecing together what had happened, when she received a gentle nudge on her head as Vareysa climbed out of bed. Her eyes remained fixed in a blank stare at the blanket covering her legs, as she recalled last night's dream. Major details were starting to fade under the sunlight filtering through the curtains, but she knew with certainty she'd dreamt of Coldharbour, and the soulless husks of the soldiers she'd commanded and lost in Cyrodiil. They clawed, dragged, and chained her to a ritual altar, where her old mentor stood over her and drove a greatsword into her heart; the last words in her ears – 'You've failed us.'

A hand on her shoulder jolted her back to reality, and she looked up to find Vareysa standing beside the bed, peering at her in concern.

"You alright?"

Aneril dropped her gaze quickly, but gave a nod in reply.

"I'll get some food up here, alright?" Vareysa said, giving Aneril a light squeeze on the shoulder, before walking out with the tiger cub on her heels.

Aneril only raised her eyes when the door was shut, shame falling over her in a pall. She'd woken in a mess, shaken by her dream, then…clung to Vareysa for comfort. That, she could remember with better clarity; how Vareysa had held her while she trembled uncontrollably, how her warmth had driven away the cold remnants of the nightmare.

It was a nightmare, damn it. Just a dream. And she'd let it overwhelm her, again.

You're a shame. A shame.

Hitches marred her breaths, but she fought it down. Her trembling hand moved to the empty spot on the sheets beside her, dimly wishing the warmth was still there.


They ate breakfast quietly in their room, taking longer than usual, while the cub sat on a chair by the window and watched the streets below. When the meal was done, they strode out of the inn – Aneril relishing the sun's rays on her skin, when she was approached by a Dominion soldier. Razum-dar had sent him to retrieve Aneril, the soldier said, and the Khajiit wanted her to join him at the Thalmor Headquarters as soon as possible.

Glad for a mission to occupy her mind, Aneril gave her assent and headed to the headquarters with both the cub and Vareysa – whom Razum-dar knew by then. They found him in a private room, and while a mage was busy prepping a spell beside him, Razum-dar talked of Pelidil's passage through Woodhearth after stealing the Staff of Magnus – thus affirming the Wilderqueen's advice. Then he directed her to the treethane in the room with them, so he and the mage could focus on their own curious preparations.

Treethane Fariel laid out the details of Razum-dar's plan to flush the Veiled Heritance out of Woodhearth – they'd spread rumours of Queen Ayrenn's visit to the city, to provoke the Heritants into an assassination attempt. The lure was a juicy little detail that Ayrenn would investigate the rumours of rebellion herself, and venture into the city's old Imperial Underground to meet a Thalmor officer – who was the Heritant spy they aimed to catch.

Aneril raised a brow. "So…we need someone to impersonate the Queen?"

"Of course we do," came a smooth, familiar voice behind her. "And that is where this one comes in."

They turned around, and were surprised to find Queen Ayrenn standing in Razum-dar's place, wearing a very cheeky grin on her face.

"This one shall be Queen Ayrenn for today, and put his life on the line for Her Majesty, as always." He bowed with a flourish, then twirled a lock of pale blonde hair around his finger. "Hm. You know, Raz does look good in this form. But then, Raz always looks good. Queen Ayrenn could maybe learn a thing or two from this one."

Vareysa snorted beside Aneril, who grimaced. "You may look like the queen, but you still don't sound like her."

"A fair point. Raz…er, I will keep that in mind," he said, adopting that formal yet easy tone of Ayrenn's. "Now, the plan. You and I will go to the Imperial Underground and meet this officer, Asteril, and find out if she is a traitor. She's quite the beauty, I'm told. But traitors are never what they seem, yes?"

"I guess not," Aneril replied. "But are you taking only me along? The queen should have more protection, no?"

"Ah, no. Bringing more guards along will only deter them. But I would like for your partner to follow us – stealthily. That should be no problem for you?"

"No. I have a cloaking spell on hand," Vareysa said, then glanced down at Shur'azan. "We'll have to leave the cub here, though."

"Perfect." Raz clapped his hands together, and Aneril couldn't help but feel strange seeing his impish smile on Ayrenn's face. "Shall we?"

"Yes. But try to control your face a little more," Aneril suggested as she walked to the closed door.

"Ah, of course. The Altmer expression is always more wooden." Raz schooled his features into a placid mask, before a curious look crossed his face. "Although…should Raz take a moment to check if everything's in place–?"

He purred unexpectedly, when Vareysa reached out to squeeze his behind.

"Sorry," Vareysa said with a crooked smile. "I've always thought she has a nice ass."

"Might as well sate your curiosity when you can, eh?" Raz grinned at her with Ayrenn's features, while Aneril's face fell into her hand in exasperation.


Cloaked in an invisibility spell, Vareysa followed behind Razum-dar and Aneril, who took empty paths through the city, towards the ruined tower at its southern border. Raz led them down a trapdoor into the Underground, and Vareysa hung back in the small entrance chamber while he and Aneril walked into the next. She pressed up against the wall beside the doorway, to reduce the chance of being spotted by their target.

She pricked her ears to listen in, while Queen Ayrenn's voice said, "Asteril? Is that you?"

"Yes. Come closer, my queen. I have something for you," replied a voice so slick with purpose that Vareysa distrusted it immediately.

"What is this?"

"A gift in memory of Prince Naemon. Vicereeve Pelidil sends his regards."

There was a shrill magical hum, then Aneril shouted 'watch out!' before a huge explosion rocked the chamber, and she cried out in pain amid the crash of falling rubble. Vareysa ran into the chamber, glancing at the hole that had been blasted through the ceiling, and the pile of broken stone beneath it. Rubble was strewn over the ground, and in the corner, Aneril lay draped over not-Ayrenn's body, hunched and gasping in agony.

Shedding the cloaking spell, Vareysa rushed to kneel by her side, eyeing the heavy block of stone lying on Aneril's left leg. It must be the main source of pain for her, barring the shallow burns she and Razum-dar had suffered on skin and fur.

"Hold on," Vareysa said, and held onto the edges of the stone, getting a good grip with her fingers. She heaved the stone off Aneril's leg, and the Altmer groaned through gritted teeth, holding onto her thigh with a white-knuckled grip. Her leg was bent in an odd angle at the knee, obviously broken, and when Vareysa tried shifting her into a more comfortable position, Aneril cried out and slapped her away.

"No, no time!" Raz interjected when Vareysa grabbled Aneril's arm instead, planning to carry her out. "Vareysa, go after Asteril now. She escaped by magic, but not portal – so she can't have gotten far. Catch her, and find out where Pelidil is hiding." He pointed at the heavy wooden doors on the other side of the chamber.

Vareysa glanced at Aneril, then rose to her feet. "Take care of her."

At Raz's nod, Vareysa recast the invisibility spell and took off farther down the Underground, effortlessly slipping past the Heritance soldiers who patrolled the dark corridors. She climbed a flight of stairs, following the few twists and turns, and finally found a chamber that could pass for living quarters. Vareysa slit the neck of the sole Heritant in the chamber and did a quick search, finding a letter addressed to a Heritant member – signed by Vicereeve Pelidil himself. It revealed the Heritants' plan in Woodhearth, and Vareysa decided this was evidence enough; she stuffed the letter into her belt pouch, and made her escape from the Underground.


Vareysa found Razum-dar and Aneril back in the Thalmor Headquarters, where their wounds were being tended to by healers. Razum-dar leapt up at her arrival – earning a chide from the healer as he did so – and he hastened to take the letter from Vareysa, reading it quickly before passing it to Treethane Fariel.

While Fariel and Raz conferred quietly with each other, Vareysa knelt by the military cot where Aneril lay, and smiled down at her. "Are you alright?"

Aneril nodded. She waited for the healer to mend the burns on her upper body, then sat up with Vareysa's help. Looking Vareysa over, she asked, "What happened?"

"There were more Heritants in the Underground, and I found a letter about their plans in Woodhearth."

"Good," Aneril said listlessly, her gaze drifting back to her knee, where the healer was focusing his attention. They stayed in silence for a moment, before Razum-dar and Fariel returned.

"There's something strange about Pelidil's orders," Fariel said. "The reference to Asteril seems odd…but either way, she's the key to unraveling this mess. We need to question her and find out what she knows."

"Let me guess: I'm to track her down?" Vareysa said.

"Since Aneril's injured, we'll have to use you instead," Raz mused, worrying at the burnt fur on his face. "But this could be an easy one. If Asteril believed Raz was Ayrenn, then she hasn't realised we're onto her. We might be able to catch her by surprise at the Thalmor residence right now. And don't worry – Raz will be there with you."

Razum-dar then strode to where his armour was laid on the floor, and began strapping them on quickly. Vareysa turned to Aneril, who was watching her in silence.

"Seems I'm off on another mission. I might as well be a Dominion agent now, huh?"

Aneril regarded her thoughtfully, then nodded. "Be careful."

Vareysa flashed a smile. "For you? Of course I will." She tweaked Aneril's nose, and snickered when her hand was slapped away.


She went to the Thalmor residence with Razum-dar and another grey-haired Altmer agent named Oromin, who refused to believe Asteril had turned traitor. And when they found Asteril's dead body lying on the floor of the residence, he breathed a sigh of relief – she appeared to have been dead for some time, which proved she hadn't been in the Underground within the last hour. With a wan smile on his face, Oromin bade Vareysa work with Razum-dar, while he took care of Asteril's body.

Vareysa left him to his prayers, and joined Raz in the adjoining chamber, where he stood by a hatch on the floor. There were dusty bootprints leading up to it, indicating recent passage. They shared a glance, then climbed down the hatch together, finding themselves in another passageway of the Imperial Underground. Raz picked up a letter near the entrance, written by Pelidil and addressed to Layaril – Asteril's sister, who'd impersonated her for the assassination attempt.

He pocketed the letter, and they delved deeper into the Underground. With Razum-dar at her side, Vareysa could no longer slip past their foes undetected. But they made a formidable team indeed, slaying the Heritant soldiers as quickly as each fight started. Soon, they dispatched the Heritant commander, and found Layaril in an isolated chamber, stabbed and left to die by Pelidil's own soldiers.

In her dying moments, she expressed no small amount of contempt for both the Dominion and the Heritance – but also revealed that Pelidil was mustering a huge force to attack Seaside Sanctuary, a town in Greenshade from which he would launch an invasion of the region.

As she slumped over in death, Razum-dar looked extremely troubled – Layaril mentioned that Pelidil was now working with the Maormer, and would raise an army of undead to work alongside the sea elves. Not only that, Pelidil would raise Naemon as an undead prince to lead the risen army as well.

A distressing revelation to be sure, and when they returned to the headquarters to give their report, Treethane Fariel sprang into action, sending reinforcements to shore up Seaside Sanctuary's defenses. Aneril would've followed suit and clambered onto her feet, if not for Vareysa pushing her back into the cot, and Raz shaking his head at her.

"No, Aneril. You stay here until you've fully healed. I need you at your best when we're in Seaside, understood?"

Aneril frowned, glancing at Vareysa as if for help, then nodded reluctantly.


Vareysa crossed her arms, waiting patiently while the ship's first mate scribbled away in her logbook. She tapped her foot idly as she looked around the docks, bustling with dockhands shifting cargo, and merchants selling supplies to sailors looking to restock. Lifting her gaze to the ship before her, Vareysa read the name painted on its hull – 'Mercy's Grace'. An allusion to Mother Morrowind, no doubt…

"Finally," the first mate declared, lifting her quill from the logbook with a flourish. "Now, you were looking for courier services? Yeah, we do offer it. What needs sending?"

Vareysa held out two envelopes – one carrying a letter to her mother in Balmora, and the other a report to her mentor in Vivec City. The Dunmer sailor took the letters, reading the addresses written neatly on both covers, and nodded in the affirmative.

"Aye, we'll have it handled. But we'll reach Vivec's port in three months, at least. Is that alright?"

"Yes. I'm not on a schedule."

"Good. Let me jot this down, and that'll be ten gold, please."

Reaching into her pouch for the coins, Vareysa asked, "How are things back home? Been there recently?"

"Aye. Few months ago, actually. Things are going as well as everywhere else. People worrying about the war, dealing with the damned Daedric anchors… Not a moment's rest on land. You've no idea how glad I am to be on the seas."

"And Vvardenfell? Have the anchors landed there yet?" Vareysa felt a pinch of homesickness mixed with worry, as she dropped the coins into the first mate's hand.

"No, but there are concerns. Heard tell of some Telvanni wizards gathering where they suspect an anchor will drop. Hope they can put their magic to use and stop it."

"Hopefully," Vareysa sighed. One of the few things she held close to her heart, was her mother. And though it was difficult to be so far from Llethasi in a time of turmoil, she knew her mother could take care of herself – even dispatch a few Daedra with her forging hammer if need be. She took comfort in that fact whenever her mind strayed back to home.

"What are you doing here anyway?" The first mate straightened from her book, looking Vareysa over. "Your accent – Balmoran, isn't it?"

"Yes," Vareysa chuckled. "I'm here on business…maybe for the long run. So it's nice to hear Dunmeris all the way out here."

"I understand," the first mate smiled at her, before turning away at her crewmate's call.

"A ship to Morrowind?"

Vareysa jumped at the voice right beside her, then turned to give Aneril a reproachful slap on the arm. "You scared me!"

Aneril cocked a brow, and looked back at the sign on the first mate's makeshift stall, which displayed the ship's route: 'Woodhearth - Senchal - Lilmoth - Vvardenfell'. She was leaning on her crutch for support, still unused to the splint fastened around her knee. Though the healer had mended her bones, the healing magic still needed time to 'take', and Aneril had to wear a splint to avoid straining her knee and undoing the healer's work.

"What are you doing here?"

"Just sending letters home."

"Oh." Aneril tilted her head, reading the sign again. "Vvardenfell. That's home, isn't it?" She glanced at Vareysa, who nodded. "Aren't you going to book passage?"

"What? No, of course not," Vareysa replied incredulously. "I promised to help you, remember?"

"But you don't have to. And you've been missing home. It's alright if you want to go back."

"Aneril." Vareysa leaned back, wearing a bemused smile. "Are you trying to get rid of me?"

Aneril stared quietly, then seemed to grow uncomfortable, and averted her eyes. "That's not…what I meant. I just–, forget it."

"It's alright," Vareysa said, as Aneril fidgeted with her crutch. "Why are you here? I thought you went to rest at the inn with our boy."

"I need your help with something." Aneril lifted the small leather satchel in her hand, then nodded for Vareysa to follow.

Walking beside Aneril, Vareysa held onto her arm to help her down the steps, and they headed towards the northern corner of the city – where a large tree overlooked the sea. Numerous bowls with lit candles were placed around the tree, along with offerings of flowers and trinkets, even a few written notes. Vareysa didn't need to guess what this was.

"This is where they honour those lost in the war," Aneril explained. "I'm told that since a lot of bodies couldn't be shipped home, this is the next best thing they can give, aside from a funeral."

She reached into her satchel and pulled out two white candles. Muttering Altmeris under her breath, Aneril lit one candle with magic and handed it to Vareysa, who placed it on the stone border around the tree. Then Aneril spoke again – Vareysa thought she heard some orc-ish syllables – and lit the other candle as well. She gave it to Vareysa, who placed it beside the first.

Aneril watched the two candles in silence, before she took the battered sword strapped to her belt. "Place this by the second candle."

Vareysa set the sword down as instructed, then rose to stand by Aneril once more. She waited as Aneril stared at the candles longer, then asked, "Who are these for?"

"The first is for my company – the one I lost in Cyrodill," Aneril said flatly. "The second is for Ghorzak, my mentor. I don't have a weapon of his to offer, so my sword will have to do."

"Ah." Vareysa tilted her head. "Wait, does this mean you're finally using your glass sword?"

"No. I bought another one." Aneril gave the faintest smile at Vareysa's groan, then reached into her satchel again. "This…is for you."

Vareysa raised her brows at the dagger Aneril offered her. She took it and drew the blade from its sheath, noting its Dunmer design and the dark tint of obsidian. "How did you get this? I haven't been able to find one since Auridon…"

"The Fighters Guild here has a Dunmer weaponsmith. I bought it from him."

"I–, you shouldn't have."

Aneril shrugged. "Take it as…thanks."

"Thanks?" Vareysa's lips parted in a playful smile. "Whose?"

Rolling her eyes, Aneril breathed a sigh. "…Mine."

"Aw, see? I knew you cared," Vareysa crooned, poking at Aneril's cheek. Grinning when her companion shot her a drab stare, Vareysa slung her arm around Aneril's and led her away from the tree. "Come on, Raz gave me quite a hefty reward for the last mission. Let's treat ourselves with a nice meal – you like seafood, right?"

"…I like lobster."

"Then lobster we shall have, my grumpy little Altmer."

Aneril snorted. "You're the 'little' one here, tiny Dunmer."


A/N: Headcanon on healing magic: though a spell can mend a wound fully, the patient still has to rest for a time for the magic to 'take'. Putting too much stress on the wounded area will cause the magic to unravel, and reopen the wound. Bone and organ injuries take more time to heal than flesh wounds.