What greater glory than to serve the Emperor and his citizens here in Skyrim, in these days of greatest need? – General Tullius


2 Second Seed, 4E 202, Palace of the Kings, Windhelm

In the War Room of the Palace of the Kings, Brelyna Maryon told her story. The Arch-Mage's message was for the Dragonborn, she'd explained, but if Cecilia didn't mind, Jarl Ulfric could listen as well. "We might need some extra help," she said offhand.

Ulfric was in no mind to send help to the College of Winterhold, but he listened politely, leaning against the map table as Brelyna perched upon a crate to deliver her message. The chairs were being used by Cecilia and Lydia. Yrsarald hovered in the background, clearly unhappy with this mage invasion of his military space.

"You know that artifact we dug up at Saarthal," began Brelyna. "No, of course you don't, sorry, Jarl Ulfric. The College was excavating the ruins at Saarthal a few months ago, when the Dragonborn was visiting."

"Excavating or looting?" asked Ulfric.

Brelyna laughed, as if he was jesting. "You and Onmund would get on very well. He doesn't think the College had any right to be in Saarthal in the first place."

"They didn't," said Ulfric sharply.

"We found a curious artifact down in the depths of Saarthal. It's this huge magical orb. And we lugged it back to the College to try to figure out what it was. But our librarian couldn't consult the texts he'd need to identify it, because an ex-student had stolen them. Cecilia was supposed to go get the books back, but she never returned to Winterhold."

"I never said I was getting the books!" protested Cecilia. "Why does everyone assume because I'm traveling the wilderness I have time to fetch their precious items?"

"We didn't need the books in the end," Brelyna ignored her outburst. "Arch-Mage Aren and Master Tolfdir think it's something the Nords hid away in Saarthal from the Snow Elves. They're calling it the Eye of Magnus."

"Typical!" said Cecilia. They could make do on their own, after all.

"I still don't know what it does and it's just sitting in the Hall of Elements glowing, but the problem is our Thalmor guest. He's obsessed with it."

"Thalmor?" asked Ulfric.

"Ancano. He's the Aldmeri Dominion's Special Advisor to the Archmage," Cecilia explained. "Self-appointed, as far as I can tell."

"Arch-Mage Aren doesn't give him the time of the day, so he follows the rest of us around all creepy-like," said Brelyna.

"I still think he's casing the joint for a grand burglary," Lydia spoke up.

"Why are you here, though, Brelyna?" asked Cecilia. "If nothing's changed with the orb?"

"Someone showed up looking for you."

"Someone?"

"Do you know any Psijic monks?" asked Brelyna.

Cecilia's face fell. "Damn."

"Told you they'd be back," said Lydia.

"That's why I never went back to Winterhold!" Cecilia cried. She turned to Ulfric. "When I was in Saarthal, this ghostly Altmer popped out of nowhere and said I'd started a terrible chain of events and I needed to prevent disaster. But he didn't say how to do that! Then he just disappeared!"

"In retrospect, I think we can all agree Jarl Ulfric is right about leaving the place alone," said Lydia. "Just for future reference. So, what do these monks want, Brelyna? Should we cart the orb back to Saarthal and lock it up?"

"The Thalmor wouldn't allow that to happen now," said Brelyna. "And the monk didn't say what he wanted. He walked into Arch-Mage Aren's quarters and asked for you by name. He seemed disappointed you weren't there, but he wouldn't explain himself further. Ancano was beside himself, a Psijic showing up after all these years and refusing to speak to the Thalmor's representative."

"Who are the Psijics?" asked Ulfric.

"They were – are a mages' order in the Summerset Isles," Brelyna explained. "But they disappeared with their entire island over a century ago."

"And what are the odds that this so-called Psijic monk is a Thalmor operative himself?" asked Ulfric.

Brelyna's eyes widened. "The Thalmor were afraid of the Psijics. Ancano's absolutely terrified that they're meddling with him now."

"The Thalmor carry out their operations on multiple levels. Ancano could be completely unaware of another agent's mission or co-operating with him by pretending to be worried. All this would lure the Dragonborn into their grasp."

Cecilia's eyes met his. She understood now, he realized. It should be comforting, but it wasn't. He was remembering things he'd tried so hard to forget, all because of her.

"Jarl Ulfric isn't wrong," Cecilia spoke up. "These Psijic monks may really be what they say they are, but we can't underestimate the Thalmor. Does Arch-Mage Aren expect me to come to the College, Brelyna?"

She nodded. "But he said to come prepared, with companions you trust. I think he knows more than he's letting on."

"Winterhold's under Imperial control now," Ulfric pointed out. "I couldn't send men along even if I wanted to."

"That's all right. I have Lydia, and Brelyna and the other apprentices."

"What if the Legion decides to detain you?" demanded Ulfric.

Cecilia looked shocked. The possibility had evidently not occurred to her before. "But I'm the Dragonborn! I'm free to wander every hold in Skyrim!"

"You're my betrothed now. I think you'll find your welcome in Imperial holds somewhat cooler than you've experienced in the past."

Cecilia frowned. "I'll have to teach them respect then."

"Could you fight them?"

"I wouldn't – are you still trying to get me to fight for the Stormcloaks?" She sounded hurt.

"I'm trying to make you think. If you head out to Winterhold, you can't rely on your old assumptions. You can't assume all your old friends will be glad to see you."

"The Dragonborn belongs to Skyrim, not to me," She threw his own words back in his face. "That's what you wrote me, isn't it? Did you mean it?"

He bowed his head. "Yes, more than you can imagine."

Because the great tragedy here was that Skyrim had been given a Dragonborn who didn't fully belong to her. Cecilia Varo had been shaped into Skyrim's savior by fate and circumstance, but she wasn't committed to live and die for this country the way every man and woman in his army was.

"If the Thalmor get hold of a powerful magical artifact, everyone suffers," Cecilia continued. "I don't know why the college mages can't deal with this themselves, or what these Psijic Monks have to do with it. And I don't know why I always have to be the one to solve these problems. I've lit almost a dozen candles to Julianos asking why the gods chose me. But they did. So, my Jarl, I am going to Winterhold, whether you approve or not."

Lydia applauded.

"Go then," replied Ulfric. "I won't hinder you."

He wanted to. He knew the moment she stepped foot in Winterhold, the Empire would try to detain her. She didn't realize how serious they would be about it, how ruthless they could be. Despite her experience at Helgen, she was still a child of the Empire, brought up to regard Legionnaires as protectors, and the Emperor as a benevolent father to his people.

"Ahem," Yrsarald coughed, and for the first time since Brelyna had begun her story, Ulfric remembered his commander was in the room. "If the Dragonborn's going to Winterhold, the Legion will be looking for her on the road. Our spies say Fort Kastav's manned again, and you can't get through that pass without walking right up to its walls. But if you went by boat, you could land near Winterhold and walk into the College with no one the wiser."

"There are pirates all over the Sea of Ghosts," objected Brelyna.

"Ye-es," Yrsarald drew the syllable out. "And they're certainly not affiliated with the Stormcloak cause. But . . ."

"Spit it out," Ulfric advised him.

"I'm not accusing them of anything, but Clan Shatter-Shield's ships get through. Always."

Ulfric nodded. Torbjorn Shatter-Shield's arrangements with the local pirates were an open secret in Windhelm. Ulfric didn't approve of them, but for the moment the pirates were very useful in keeping Imperial ships out of the area. "You should consider the sea route, my Lady," he told Cecilia.

"And you would arrange the trip?" Cecilia asked suspiciously.

"Should I not? If you go talk to the Shatter-Shields, it won't keep a secret. But if I arrange a supply-run up the coast, you can slip out of the city with no one knowing."

"I see. I suppose I must trust you."

"Yes, you must. Else I don't know how we will fare together."

Lydia actually rolled her eyes. The nerve of that woman!

"Make sure there's room for five passengers," spoke up Brelyna. "The Dragonborn, Lydia, me, and the other two apprentices."

Ulfric considered this. He still didn't like letting go completely of Cecilia. There should be at least one person in their party who was loyal to him, not the College of Winterhold or Whiterun Hold. One person at least who would think to alert him if something went wrong, and who would watch out for any Imperial interference.

"I'd like to send Ralof along with you," he said at last.

"To spy on us?" asked Lydia.

"Lydia! Show the Jarl respect," Cecilia snapped at her housecarl. It seemed that Lydia had finally crossed a line. She looked as surprised as Ulfric felt; he'd never seen Cecilia reprimand Lydia before.

"I apologize, Jarl Ulfric," said Lydia sullenly.

"But I don't know what I think of taking a known Stormcloak into Imperial territory," Cecilia continued. "I don't think it'd be fair to Ralof to put him in that position."

"Why don't you ask him what he thinks?" asked Ulfric. Ralof, of course, was a good soldier who would follow his commander's "suggestion". And if he was in this room, he'd probably volunteer anyway. He'd been invested in protecting the Dragonborn since Helgen.

Cecilia looked troubled. "I'd be glad to have him with me, but you can't pressure him into it." She turned to her housecarl. "Lydia, you go ask. I can trust you not to bully him into it."

Lydia shot Ulfric a triumphant look before leaving the room. Ulfric concluded that Ralof would not be coming.

He was very surprised when Lydia was back within twenty minutes, ushering Ralof into the war room.

"I'm coming with you, my Lady," he addressed Cecilia. "Lydia's explained everything."

Lydia was grinning. Had she actually wanted Ralof to come? He might have to completely reassess the housecarl's character.

Ralof turned to Ulfric. "Thank you, my Jarl, for entrusting me with the Dragonborn's safety."

"Seems to be the job the gods gave you," said Ulfric, clapping him on the back. "I'm entrusting you to her as well. I want you both back in one piece."

While Lydia was gone, they'd been poring over a map of the Northern coast which Yrsarald had pulled out for him. Brelyna had pointed out a few places around the College that she thought might make good drop-off points. Ulfric was silently examining the coastline with a mind to the intelligence he'd received about Imperial ships in the area. He'd tell Cecilia before she left, but there was no way he was sharing military intelligence with a Telvanni wizard, even a harmless-seeming apprentice.

It was a fruitless enterprise, anyway, trying to figure this out without Shatter-Shield input. Soon after Ralof appeared, Ulfric dispatched Yrsarald to start up the arrangements.


2 Second Seed, 4E 202, Labyrinthian

Varo's party stood beneath the ruins of Labyrinthian, listening to roaring up above: the frost-trolls Idgrod had warned of.

"The snow pack must be stable where those beasts are," ventured Amirion, the Thalmor mage who'd been getting along well with Varo.

Rikke shook her head. "Frost trolls don't care if they set off an avalanche. It won't kill them, and they can climb out of the snow eventually. Fire and each other are the only things they really fear."

"Good. Mayhem spells are my specialty," said Varo. "Let's go."

"The horses are too spooked to go on," Rikke protested.

"Then stay here with them, Legate," Elenwen broke into the discussion. "Amirion, we'll go ahead of our soldiers to deal with these trolls."

"You mean, you're coming with me," said Varo. "I don't exactly need your help, coz, but it'll make things easier."

He was rewarded by Elenwen's sour expression. She had no come-back for being called 'coz'. She was clearly trying to ignore it, rather than hash out their family relationship in front of her subordinates. In retaliation, he'd stopped calling her anything else.

"Emilin, you and Legate Rikke probably should stay with the horses," Varo continued. He was confident he could handle himself in the Thalmor mages' company, but he wouldn't leave just one follower alone with the soldiers.

"Fine with me," said Emilin. "Don't do that stupid thing we discussed last night, though. Okay?"

Idgrod's prophecy, right. That wouldn't be a problem. He wasn't going into any mazes with Elenwen. Honestly.

Elenwen raised her eyebrows. "Stupid thing?"

"Don't wander off and explore these ruins," Emilin clarified. "That goes for you too, First Emissary. We need to find the quickest way through."

"I'm sorry I solicited that inane piece of advice," said Elenwen tartly. "Come along, Amirion." She started up the steps to the city.

Varo followed after the two Thalmor, quickening his pace to match their own easy stride. He would always insist he didn't envy these Altmer, but longer legs would be nice.

They stopped at the top of the stairs, peering forward into the ruins. The trolls were not in sight, but they could hear them somewhere close by. There were too many corners for the beasts to hide behind in this vast ruined city.

Wordlessly, Varo muffled his footsteps. Beside him, Elenwen and Amirion were doing the same. He briefly considered an Invisibility spell to follow, but that would drain his reserves too far for a job that should be simple. Also, although he would like to see Elenwen's face if he just vanished on her, he needed the Thalmor mages to stay co-operative.

The snow here was about a foot deep, with the ruined walls providing some shelter and break from the wind. But there were tracks across the snow: hard-packed icy furrows bearing the prints of bestial feet. They moved along one, Amirion leading. Varo was right behind him, feeling a prickle at the back of his neck from the knowledge that Elenwen was following. She wouldn't try anything, but by Talos, if she did, he could move so quickly . . . He hoped she realized that.

They met their first trolls in a plaza not far beyond the outer walls. There were three of them, two were already locked in combat, while another watched and howled.

"Mating season?" whispered Amirion.

"How the hell would I know?" Varo responded.

"Well, if they're already fighting each other . . ."

"I am not going to wait this out." Elenwen snapped her gloved fingers. A small ball of flame appeared in the palm of her hand. Varo was a little surprised. The ever-patient Inquisitor had learned to hurry, had she? If she'd moved so quickly in the past, instead of clinging to protocols and prudence, he wouldn't be alive today.

He let Elenwen draw the creatures' attention with a firebolt, meanwhile readying his spell of Mayhem. These weren't mentally strong adversaries, but he wanted to target all three at once, which made it a little more complicated.

The creatures left off their battle immediately and charged towards them. Elenwen kept up the rain of fire, Amirion was throwing up a ward around them. Varo waited till they were ten feet away to cast Mayhem.

It worked perfectly. There was a sickening snapping sound as one of the trolls grabbed the other's arm and bashed it into a wall. The third continued in its fury towards the mages, but was repelled by Elenwen's blast of fire.

They didn't even need wards in the end. With a lethal mixture of fire and illusion spells, they cleared out the old alley-ways of the city within the space of twenty minutes. Fifteen frost trolls lay dead, some of them reduced to heaps of smoking ash. It'd definitely been mating season, Varo reflected, and this their local breeding site. He wondered if the locals would notice a significant decrease in the Troll population after this.

He was exhausted when they were finished and let himself fall back into a comfortably thick snowbank.

"You can call them up," he told Elenwen and then noticed the look of horror on her face. He followed her gaze. There down a wide avenue, a tall figure was rushing towards them. The – man? – no, elf was dressed in Legionnaire's uniform. He called out in Altmeris, "Mistress Elenwen! I have the mask ready!"

"SHUT UP!" Elenwen screamed back at him.

Varo sat very still, willing the elf to spill more of his secrets. "Wait, is that a real Legionnaire?" the new elf asked as he approached the trio.

"He understands Altmeris," hissed Elenwen at the newcomer.

Since his cover was blown, Varo stood up, and bowed. "Indeed I do," he said in the tongue. "What mask are you talking about?" Once again, he thanked his mother's paranoia of the Thalmor. While Curinwe Varo had been too busy to teach her own son, she'd hired an Altmer nanny just to immerse him in the language. Curinwe didn't think of it as preserving her Altmer father's heritage, but as handing her son another weapon to survive. So had it proved on many an occasion.

The false Legionnaire had no chance to answer his question. Elenwen waved her hand, and the elf seized up, then fall backwards, stiff as a board.

"Amirion. Bind this renegade's hands," she ordered.

"Oh, so he's a renegade?" asked Varo innocently.

"Yes. He's a minor guard at the Embassy. He's been missing from his duties," Elenwen replied. "To find him here – this is truly shocking."

"You need any help searching him for this mask he mentioned?"

Elenwen scowled. "What mask?"

"Why don't you ask him? Oh for Talos' sake, coz," – he appreciated the look of pure murder on her face, "I don't have time to pry into your secret schemes. No doubt you have agents crawling the country, I don't want to meet them all. I need to get to Whiterun to lift a siege, so I'm going back to get my comrades."

He stomped off through the snow, hoping Elenwen bought his reaction. Because he wasn't going to leave it there. Getting to Whiterun was his ultimate goal, but he'd learnt long ago that you didn't just ignore Thalmor actions. They played the long game; anything could turn out to be crucial, the difference between life and death for a huge number of people.

Amirion caught up with him quickly, and they said nothing as they descended to their soldiers. Varo wondered if the paralyzed Thalmor agent would even be alive when he returned.

At the bottom of the steps, he drew Rikke and Emilin aside and quickly described what had occurred above.

"I'm not leaving Labyrinthian without finding this mask," he finished the story.

"Varo! The general ordered you to Whiterun!" Rikke protested.

"I'm still going to Whiterun. But I'm not going to ride away from this place leaving the Thalmor in possession of some powerful magical artifact."

"You don't know it's a powerful magical artifact!"

"What do you think, Legate? It's Elenwen's mask from her last fancy dress party?"

"He's not going to change his mind," said Emilin to Rikke. "Junius, what do you want me to do?"

"You're going to look for this mask. The legate and I will be providing the distraction for you to do it."

"Are you ready to come along?" Amirion called over to them. The Thalmor had readied their horses.

"The legate forgot to change into winter clothes," Varo shouted back. "We'll need a few minutes while she changes."

"VARO!" Rikke was absolutely furious.

"Buying us time," he hissed. "Emilin, get me those extra woolens."

Rikke swore at him, but thankfully complied with the ruse. She made him hold up a blanket while she slipped out of her armour to don the extra thick woolen underclothes he'd brought along. While she was changing, he outlined his plan.

"If the Thalmor agent had the mask on his person, Elenwen probably has it now," he explained. "So, your first job, Emilin, is to find out if she or the agent is carrying it. If they are, we don't need to take action right away. But if neither has it, it's somewhere in the ruined city."

"And you think I can search the whole city for it?" asked Emilin.

"No, I think you'll use your amazing tracking skills to find exactly where this agent popped up from. Does he have a camp in the area? Was he hanging out in an old ruined building? That's where you'll look for the mask."

"How are you going to distract the Thalmor from me?" she asked.

"I'm going to take Elenwen maze-crawling."

"Junius, you weren't supposed to take Idgrod's vision as a suggestion."

"Why not? Maybe that's why the gods sent it to her. So I'd know what to do. Let me explain; I'm afraid of the Thalmor getting their hands on powerful magic. Well, Elenwen will be just as afraid of me doing the same. Once we get up there, I'm going to very dramatically succumb to the temptation of Shalidor's Maze. Elenwen certainly won't let me go in there by myself. If I'm very lucky, she'll bring along Amirion. Now, the second layer of distraction is up to Legate Rikke." Rikke groaned. "I won't tell you what to do, but you need to let Emilin slip away. They'll notice she's gone, but they won't be able to track her. I promise you that."

"So I'm going to be left with three or four angry Thalmor?" asked Rikke.

"We're all doing our duty for the Empire," Varo replied smoothly. "Emilin, when you find the mask, hide it in the Ruins. Then we'll all get back together and talk down the Thalmor."

"Talk down," repeated Rikke.

"They need me to prolong the war; they probably won't try to kill us."

Emilin patted Rikke on the shoulder. "Junius and I have been running circles around them for years. Trust us."

Rikke fastened the last buckles on her armour. "Let's get this done quickly. I'm going to overheat in your horrible long underwear."


Notes: In this universe, Captain Valmir found someone other than the Dragonborn to successfully bring him Rahgot's mask. His orders in-game are then to bring it to Labyrinthian, which backfired spectacularly for him here.

Reviews, comments and questions would be much appreciated, especially since I sometimes feel I'm writing into the void.