Valor

The golden crown before him looked beautiful; it seemed to glow from the sunlight hitting it. Jewels and gems decorated the accessory, making it look majestic and practically radiate power. It was then that Valor saw the dead man walk to it, and break it in half with one stroke from its sword.

May he be rewarded for his service, as I am. The words came up when the blade came down, and the crown that had once been beautiful was now broken and ruined. Soon enough the dead man looked to Valor in the eyes and it was almost as if it smiled for a brief moment, until everything turned to tentacles.

More and more came until Valor could see nothing else, he ran as far as he could, hoping to escape his fate. But his legs tired, and he could run no longer. It was then that the tentacles caught his arms and legs and held him up, and he felt as if his bones were crushing. "His soul is inside you, you will become like him soon." The words rang inside his head louder than the others, and soon enough the tentacles approached. And as they got closer, Valor noticed one was approaching his face, and on the tentacle was a mask, and Valor knew it was the mask of Miraak. He squirmed and thrashed, but the tentacles still kept him in their grasp. Until Valor felt the mask on his face, he shook his head, but it would not come off. Until he felt his face burn, while the tentacles constricted his neck.

May he be rewarded for his service, as I am.

Valor woke from his bedroll, Serana was right beside him. At first he thought she was asleep, but he soon realized he was wrong when she stared up at him, a concerned look on her face.

"More nightmares?"

"Yes…" Valor said, "This one wasn't as bad as the last one though."

"You poor thing…" Serana said, leaning up to connect their lips together, "Feel better now?"

"Much better," Valor said with a small smirk on his face, "What time is it?"

"No idea, all though I think the sun should be rising soon." Serana said, "We should make it to Windhelm in a few hours."

"Once Eleriand wakes then we can continue." Valor said.

They had almost reached the base of the mountain; it had been a long enough journey so far. One that Valor himself did not fancy, he had never grown accustomed to the harsh wilds of Skyrim's snowy regions. He much preferred the climate of Whiterun or the Reach. Somewhere that he did not need to huddle around a fire during the night.

"Then we better start now," Eleriand said, coming from the tent.

"Awake already? Alright then, let hurry this up." Valor said, rising form the bed roll, Serana followed soon after. Eleriand reached into his bag and grabbed a loaf of bread, ripping a piece of and throwing it to Valor. the Dragonborn caught it, and quickly ripped off a piece, only to eat it soon after.

"It may not be gourmet cuisine, but it will keep you from starving." Eleriand said.

The piece of bread was small, but it was enough to sate Valor's hunger for the remainder of the morning. He was about to eat the rest that was left, but Serana snatched it from his hand, eating it immediately.

"Hey!"

"You didn't offer me some, so I took it." Serana said, "A girl has to eat too."

Guess I'm just too use to her drinking blood, Valor thought, she never needed food before; only blood. The thought brought back memories of when he himself was a vampire, all in loyalty of the Dawnguard. I showed them undying loyalty; I became the very thing I helped destroy. And they thanked me by trying to kill Serana behind my back.

Valor had been on bad terms with Isran before his apparent disappearance from Skyrim. He didn't know what the old man was doing now, but he had no interest in speaking with him. He hadn't told Eleriand the truth, he had not gone to the Dawnguard before his disappearance to plan the attack on Castle Volkihar, he went there to confront Isran. That was the true reason he had told Eleriand to watch over Serana.. Only he was sidetracked along the way to the Fort, and found himself answering the challenge of Miraak soon after.

"All right, let's go; Windhelm should be visible soon." Eleriand said.

It was then that the three packed up their things and journeyed down the mountain once again. It had taken longer to get down than he had remembered it taking to go up when he occasionally met the Order. Occasionally they would have to warm up by a small fire, but that ended quickly when the snow ceased to fall and they near the base of the mountain. It was at this time they looked down upon the surface, to the city of Windhelm.

No smoke was rising, and no signs of the cities destruction were noticeable. But the one thing Valor did notice was the amount of tents he saw not terribly far away from the city. Occasionally he could see one man walking from Windhelm to the camp, or several horsed soldiers that would trot along to their destination. It was clear a large army was stationed here. But as they were looking, the three noticed that some of the great host was breaking apart, and Valor noticed that they were leaving as he saw men scurry along to pack the tents and gather the supplies.

"We need to get down there fast." Valor said.

"Aye, before they leave, let's go." Eleriand agreed, and the group scaled down the last and least treacherous part of the mountain. Valor didn't know whose army that was, he suspected General Tullius; but he had been gone for three years. For all Valor knew, the General could be dead.

The mountain soon became easier to scale as they continued on, until it became simply hopping from one ledge to the other. At first they took it like a game, or at least Valor and Serana did. Eleriand just kept to himself. But they took it more seriously when Serana almost fell off one of the ledges. Had Valor not been there to quickly grab her arm and pull her up, she would have plummeted to her death.

"Thanks," Serana said as she stared at the distance she almost fell down.

"No problem." Valor said.

Eventually the ground was only ten or so feet away, Valor leaped onto the last ledge. Soon quickly leaping off and onto the ground. Eleriand followed soon after, as did Serana. Valor made sure that she did not land wrong, standing right where she was about to land. But she landed fine, and the three went on.

They were only a yard away from Windhelm, the city of Ysgramor. Valor had visited the place several times, the most memorable was the day he struck down Ulfric Stormcloak with his own blade.

And when I killed Alianor. Valor thought, he would never forget that day. It was during the Battle of Windhelm, at least a year before he met Serana. Valor himself had been ready to kill as many rebels as possible. When the gates were brought down, he rushed in, cutting down one Stormcloak after another. One particular female soldier hesitated when to strike him down. Not knowing who she was due to her face being covered by a Stormcloak helmet, he drove his sword straight through the woman's heart. It was when her helmet fell off after she herself tumbled to the ground did Valor realize he had killed the one person he loved most. They had not spoken since she randomly disappeared months before. He never felt more terrible, he knew she had joined the Stormcloaks, and left him after learning he was to join the Legion. He never forgave himself that day; he had still been grieving for his loved one at the moment he ventured into Serana's tomb

"Valor!" he heard Serana shout, and realized he had been reminiscing of that day this whole time.

"Sorry," Valor said, quickly catching up with the other two.

The closer they got to Windhelm, the colder they grew. Not as cold as they were in the mountains, but there was a reason why Windhelm was the snowiest region in Skyrim. Valor needed warmth, he breathed on his hands, but that was not enough. Valor didn't know why, but this weather felt colder than it did in the mountains, despite the climate in the mountains being far worse.

Hermaeus Mora is laughing at us, you know? The voice came into Valor's mind instantly. Just when he felt the Daedra was beginning to leave him alone, he is left with more messages and taunts from the powerful Prince of knowledge.

I wonder if Molag Bal speaks to Serana on a daily basis too. Valor thought, although he doubted it. Serana had been a friendly, kind, and mostly sane person. He did not think that she could be the person she was if she was constantly harassed by the king of Rape.

Then again, she never wanted to talk about the ceremony. Why would she want to talk about this? Valor thought, the first time he asked her what happened at the ceremony, she was rather defensive. Only saying, "It was…degrading." Valor knew what degrading meant when it came to the King of Rape.

"Valor, are you okay?" Serana asked as she tugged on the leather under his armor slightly.

Valor had been stuck in his thoughts again, "Fine, just thinking about something…that all." He tried to smile, but it looked more nervous than genuine. He hoped she would accept his answer; he did not want her to worry about him.

"All right, come one." She said, grabbing his hand to make sure he followed them this time. Eleriand had an odd face, like he suspected what was going on in Valor's mind. The Dragonborn doubted it though, neither of them could understand, maybe Serana; as she did suspect that the Daedra was speaking to him. But still, he doubted it.

After a great deal of walking they were finally entering the large camp. Everyone was scurrying to either do their job or pack up all of the things needed for the march. The tents were being brought down, while Valor instantly recognized the command tent. He took the lead, releasing Serana's hand and letting the two follow him for once.

A few soldiers seemed to stop what they were doing and stared at the Dragonborn of legend. Some looked like Nordic warriors, and perhaps had served in Skyrim and recognized him. He gave a quick nod to any that seemed to know him, and sped quickly towards the largest tent in the camp. Which nobody was trying to bring down for movement.

Valor turned to Serana and Eleriand, "Let me do the talking." He opened the flap of the tent, heading inside immediately. It seemed to look smaller on the inside that it did outside, but it was large enough for a wooden table with a map of Skyrim on it.

"Riften should hold for a time, but the…Who is this?" a man clad in Imperial heavy armor said, a sound of disgust on his face.

"Guards! Kill this-!" the Legate began, but he was interrupted by a young man on the other side of the table. The symbol of the Imperial Legion was engraved on the chest plate of his armor. His hair was long and jet black, and he seemed to act more mature than most his age.

"Calm, my friend; no need for bloodshed just yet. Enough men have died in this land so far." He said, then turning to Valor, "Now, are my men giving free reign to anyone and allowing them to wander into my tent unhindered? State your business, stranger."

"Are you Legionnaires, my friend?" Valor asked.

"Sort of..."

"Well, I am a Legionnaire, Legate Valor; perhaps you have heard of me?"

"A Legate, eh? Tell me, 'Legate' where is your Imperial uniform?" the young man asked.

"Rather have this," The Dragonborn pointed to his Ancient Falmer armor that he had won in battle against Vyrthur, "Much light and easier to travel and sneak by the enemy."

The Legate looked unconvinced, but the young man had an amused look on his face, "Aye, I've heard of a Valor. But he's been gone for a while according to word around here. Some say he is the Dragonborn, some told me he is Talos himself. Honestly, I don't care who you are, we need good men if we are to win this war. If you care to join us. We could use you."

"Could I have your name, friend?" Valor asked.

"Vaeril, son of Titus Mede II; the Prince of Cyrodiil." The young man said, though it was without arrogance. Something that Valor respected.

"The Emperor's son?" Valor asked.

"Aye," Vaeril said, "These men are from Cyrodiil, most of them probably have no idea who you are, so don't expect them to follow you blindly. Although there are more than a few Nords around here, many that served in Skyrim. They might recognize you, but don't expect them to, got it?"

Valor could not argue with the man, he was not known to these people if they were truly from Cyrodiil. At the most they may have heard his name once, but Valor doubted that highly. He turned to Serana and then to Eleriand, both had a blank expression on their faces.

"Go and get this one a bedroll or something, he is coming with us to Riften. Perhaps he can prove more useful than half these other fools." Vaeril said, "Will these two be coming as well?"

"Aye, they both are capable fighters. I could not imagine being without them." Valor said.

"Get them some bedrolls and some supplies, it's a long ride to Riften, and we need as much help as we can get." Vaeril told the guards, who scurried out of the command tent to fulfill their leaders wish.

"Is General Tullius around here?" Valor asked.

"General Tullius is dead," Vaeril said, "Killed by the Draugr at Whiterun."

Dead? Valor thought, he could not fathom the fact that General Tullius was slain. Who would take his place, this boy? If this was true then Skyrim had lost a Great soldier and leader.

Yes, he is dead…Just as you will be soon. The voice of Hermaeus Mora rang inside the dark depths of the Dragonborn's mind. The Prince seemed to notice something was wrong, and had a confused look on his face. Valor quickly excused himself from the command tent and back outside. His head began to hurt like it did a few days ago. He shut his eyes in the pain, but it still lingered.

Hermaeus Mora is laughing at us, you know? Miraak's words came again. Whatever the Daedric Prince was trying to say, it would not sway Valor.

His soul is inside you, you will become like him soon. More voices came, and it was as if several people were speaking to him at the same time. May he be rewarded for his service, as I am. Valor kept his eyes shut in the pain, but while his eyes were closed, in the darkness Miraak flashed before his eyes. It was a flashback of when he was betrayed by Hermaeus Mora in the summit of Apocrypha. His soul is inside you, you will become like him soon.

Valor tried to ignore the thoughts. He was nothing like Miraak; the first Dragonborn embodied everything evil and wrong. He was a prime example of something good fallen to evil. Valor was nothing like that, he strived for good, for what was right. Or at least that's what he told himself.

I am not like Miraak, I am not like Miraak. The Daedra's words were torturing him so much that he was becoming like a frightened child. But the truth was, compared to the Daedra's power he might as well be one. Serana stood next to him soon after, trying to find out what was wrong. But he could not concentrate on her right now, only the torture going on in his mind.

Well there it is! For some reason I find enjoyment in putting my characters through very tough times. If I were Valor I would hate me right now.

REVIEW! Make sure to tell me what you thought about this chapter, all in all I enjoyed writing it. SO make sure to tell me your thoughts!

ASOIAF quote of the day: "Where do whores go?" –Tyrion Lannister.