So this is the last chapter. Sorry the story was barely over 60,000 words, I wanted to apologize for the shortness. I sort of went too fast in the beginning, as it was mentioned in the comments section.

Thanks for reading. This was my first fanfiction, as well as my first attempt at writing, outside of technical literature. Comments are always welcomed. :-)

I may do a spin-off later.

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Serena held out her hands, as the child attempted to walk towards her. Rommes was growing at an accelerated rate. She glanced up to Michelle, who noticed it from the corner of her eye.

"If one more person asks me what's in my breasts, I am going to kill them. Besides, those days are finally over."

Serena laughed, stepping forward to catch the slobbering mess before he fell backwards.

"Do you think Andy is okay? Has Valdras heard anything?"

Michelle shook her head, as she rummaged through the cupboards, looking for salt. "Nothing yet. I wish they had technology here. All we'd need is a text message that said 'done'. Instead, I am forced wait months for a courier. It's bullshit."

Serena's eyebrows furrowed. Sometimes Michelle said the strangest things. She knew she wasn't from here, but the things she would go on about…they seemed quite far-fetched.

"On top of that, she's with unknown people, at an unknown location. She doesn't need strangers and weirdos grabbing at her crotch when the baby comes."

Serena picked up Rommes. "I'm pretty sure Miraak will get there in time."

Michelle pointed a wooden spoon at her. "Like I said, strangers and weirdos." She grabbed her arm, applying pressure. It still ached, from time to time. Eventually, it should stop, but it may take a good amount of time.

It had been a month since she woke up in Valdras' arms in a tent in the mountains, naked, except for a cloak wrapped around her. The cultists had almost killed her, and some of the symbols cut into her body were still there. It wasn't all bad. She rather liked the swirling one they gave her on her ass. It was kind of as good as a tattoo. A conversation starter, in the least.

Who was she kidding, it was horrible. The worst part about it was the last memories she had were of a very pregnant and blind Andy, aimlessly reaching for her through dungeon bars. Miraak had said that she was still alive, but she had vanished without a trace. Guilt and worry ate at her. Her frown deepened, as she stirred the contents of the bowl vigorously.

The door opened and Valdras walked in, a piece of parchment in his hand. A shit-eating grin was plastered on his face.

"Guess who wrote us…"

[-]

She stood before him, at the base of the two stairwells. Her hand over their child in her womb, the other grasping an ornate wooden staff with the symbols of Kyne etched on the top. She was dressed in an intricate, warm gown of dark green cloth and velvet. The hood framed her face, as her brown hair fell forward in the front.

Her face adorned an intricate mask of gold. It stopped below her eyes, curving backwards into a feminine sweep. This mask…it had been forbiddon by Alduin, long ago. Gifted to the Dragon Priest before the birth of his sister, the mask's creator was consumed for his transgressions; chained and eaten alive. Its mere existence almost a myth by the time he had arose to power, spoken only in hushed whispers among the higher circles. The fear of the World Eater's wraith had been absolute.

"Hello?" A small smile crossed her lips.

She heard silence in return. She swore the doors had opened. Perhaps one of the greybeards stepped outside? The mask she wore blocked her sense of smell, so she was functioning on touch and sound alone. Maybe she could go around licking things, and throw "taste" on her list of usable senses, but that probably wouldn't be the best idea…

"If you are a visitor, please have a seat. Someone will be here, shortly, to assist you. There should be some food and drink nearby. Please help yourself."

She smiled warmly, and proceeded off to the right, waddling back up the stairs, carefully.

Miraak stood there, silent. She could not sense him. A devious smile spread across his lips. He waited until she disappeared, and headed after her. Two of the Greybeards spotted him and bowed. He returned it, respectively.

A loud cry echoed from her direction. He grinned, picking up a basket of cloth on the floor, as he continued walking after her. His daughter had waited for him.

Andy felt a wetness in between her legs, and a sharp cramp. "Oh!" She leaned over, clutching around herself. She accidently landed her hand on a tray that hung over the side of a table, flinging cups full of water everywhere.

"You have got to be fucking kidding me! I'm so sorry, I'll clean it-OH!"

She heard footsteps heading towards her.

"The baby. Shit. She's coming."

She keeled over, gritting her teeth through a large contraction.

"Oh god…this hurts. Bad. I need drugs. A lot of drugs."

A large hand grabbed hers, and pulled her off into the direction of her quarters. She was put in front of the bed and table nearby, where she had asked them to put some cheap rags and an old robe. She started to change. She wasn't going to bleed all over whatever it was that she had on. It felt expensive, and it seemed like these old men did not have a lot of finances at their disposal.

"We will be nearby, should you require assistance." The greybeard's voice sounded through the other side of the door, as she heard it click shut. She threw on a plain robe and laid down on the bed. Her hands felt around on the coarse cloth underneath; they had put down blankets to soak up the afterbirth.

She started to cry. Laying propped up on her back, she threw a blanket over her. She was alone, in some medieval monastery, about ready to give birth with four strange old men as her nursing staff.

"God…", she sniffed, "my parents would be so fucking proud right now. Can't wait to call mom up afterwards. 'Hey, just had a kid. Can I borrow some money?'."

She sat in silence as the tears fell. Another contraction was coming. She gritted her teeth. Would anyone come back in to help her? Would she have to deliver it herself? If that was the case, she would probably need to flip over…

She felt a hand slip in hers, and she gripped it tightly. Well, that answered that question. It was about the size of Arngeir's; he was the nicest of the bunch. Slowly, she felt the mask she wore being lifted, and she panicked, grabbing at it.

"No, wait! I haven't heard from him, please!"

A familiar scent blossomed, and a large smile formed on her lips. The mask was tossed to the side.

"You are so…you dickhead." She reached for him. His arm wrap around her shoulder, as her hands found his face. Her eyebrows furrowed, as some tears fell.

"A beard? Again?" He chuckled, and he leaned down, kissing her.

She gasped. Another contraction. A big one. No wait, the big one.

"Yikes! I think this is it…" She bucked up, and pushed hard, feeling something tear a little, as she yelled in pain. Miraak let go of her hand and leaned over, helping to ease the infant out.

She sat there, exhausted and in pain, nervously waiting to hear anything, as her eyes darted around in darkness. Finally, she heard a baby's cry, and sighed in relief. She held out her hands, tears streaming down.

"Let me hold her, please…"

A wrapped bundle was placed in her arms, and Andy openly sobbed from the joy of bringing her daughter into the world.

This world.

He swept some of Andy's sweat matted hair out of her face, running a finger down to her chin and nicking it. She looked up at him, sighing, content.

A knock at the door. "How is she, Dovahkiin?"

She was rocking the swaddled infant, who had already fallen asleep. Her lips held the most radiant smile he had ever seen.

"They are both fine."

He sat next to her on the bed, putting his arms around her and his daughter.

She leaned to the side, putting her head on his shoulder. "I am so happy you are here, but extremely pissed off you fell off the face of the earth for two entire months. You've lucked out, though. I'm too tired to kick your ass."

She felt him kiss her forehead, and the familiar feeling of his healing magic began to cover her body.

"I know."

[-]

She was propped up on some pillows, nursing their newborn child. Miraak was asleep next to her. She believed this was the first rest he had received in days. There had been a few remaining cultists, and he had tirelessly run the entire length of the province, killing each and every last one. He had also found the remains of Dagoth Ur, and watched as it was burned to ashes.

She placed her hand over his brow, and brushed some of the hair out of his face. He sighed, content, deep in sleep.

Andy decided to do a quick checklist of her current situation.

1. She was blind.

2. She was unemployed.

3. She just had a kid.

4. She was unmarried.

She looked back on the sleeping father. Single wasn't exactly the correct term, but what were they? Did he even plan to stick around?

Her forehead scrunched. Probably. He was…clingy. He just needed to quit the disappearing shit. "Absently Clingly", was the best term to describe him.

As if noticing her discontent, he jarred awake. She felt him sit up, putting an arm around her, while touching their daughter with the other. He kissed her forehead.

"Miraak…"

"Yes?"

"What happens now?"

He looked at her. Even though her eyes were not focused on him, they still held the same emotions. She was concerned about the future. About him. It hurt…he had failed his mate. It would take time to regain her trust.

He stretched, then leaned back against the stone wall that served as a headboard.

"Rebuild my temple. The island is still mine by right."

A frown formed, and she ran a finger over her daughter's arm. She would instill in her better morals and ethics than her father possessed, obviously.

"Seriously, you think that's a good idea?"

He grinned.

"It is adequate. The inland is unoccupied."

She pinched her nose again.

"That's because it's a frozen shithole with a fungus problem on the southern coast. Why can't you go conquer a tropical island? I need a vacation."

Her sight had started to…change. She no longer saw only darkness. She could differentiate light and dark. It was an improvement. Whether it would ever return, she did not know. She noticed a brightness on her right, then felt something warm cast over her and the baby.

"Protection charm. Get used to it."

She snorted.

Her head tilted downwards towards their daughter. "What are we going to name her?"

"Gwengela."

Her brow and nose wrinkled. "You are out of your fucking mind."

"I am the father."

"And we're not married. Your name isn't on the birth certificate, so tough shit."

He let loose a genuine laugh.

"No really, that name is hideous."

"It was my mother's name."

She closed her eyelids, pinching her nose. "Oh my god, FINE."

She put the infant in his arms.

"Gwengela Trollbrand…welcome to Skyrim. Sorry that your father is an ass."