Hearthfire
A lone traveler trudged through the wild blizzard towards a lone house that lay deep within the forest near Falkreath. He was a large man wrapped in furs from head to toe to block out the dire cold and was laden heavy with equipment. Upon arriving at the entrance of the house he forced the door open against the deadly wind and stepped inside, dropping the equipment on the floor with a loud thunk.
Inside the sizable house he was greeted by the warmth of the hearthfire and a stout woman who was waiting by an empty table.
"My Thane, you have returned! How was your journey?" she asked as she jumped up to gather the man's discarded gear. He pulled the furs from around his head and neck to reveal his mane of dark hair and braided beard. His eyes were as dark as his hair and set deep within his sockets giving them a shadowed look about them. The eyes themselves burned like fire.
"It was...interesting. The College is...well it's fine now. Being the Arch-Mage is mostly all perks but they always come running to me when things go sour." He said as he recollected the events of the past six months. "I guess it wasn't all bad. I met an amazing person and I can't stop thinking about her."
"That's wonderful m'lord. The children could use a mother."
"Ah..um...yes, how are the little rascals doing? Oh and do be careful with that bag. It contains a third of all the power in the universe."
"Surely you jest, m'lord?" asked the woman as she stared timidly at the bag she has just picked up. The dark Nord simply stared at her, unwavering. "...I-I'll put it in the basement with the other artifacts. Your wards down there will keep it safe."
"Don't you want to know what they are?"
"No I don't, m'lord."
"It's three Elder Scrolls. A lot of falmer had to die for me to get my hands on those puppies." the man said smugly.
"I said...nevermind." said the woman as her eyes widened and her face drained of blood. "W-why don't you go check on your children? It's been half a year since they've seen their father."
"Ah. Of course. Thank you Lydia." said the man. "And do be careful with my belongings, for your own safety."
"Of course, Lord Okeer. I am sworn to carry your burdens, no matter how magical or dangerous..."
As Lydia carefully carried the outrageous package down towards the basement that held a magnificent store of legendary artifacts and weapons that would drive any scholar mad, Okeer ascended the staircase towards his daughter's shared room. He slowly opened the door to their room and peaked inside. Laying on the floor between two small beds was a shaggy, old dog. It looked up from its rug and let out a small growl.
"Shh Meeko." whispered Okeer as he put up his finger to his lips. He had hope to not awaken his daughters but it was too late.
"Papa?" asked one of the girls as she sat up and rubbed her eyes. As she did the other girl awoken as well.
"Hey girls, I'm home now." he said with a warm smile, and a solemn voice.
"Papa!" cried out the other girl. The two girls shot up from their beds and charged their adoptive father, latching onto his legs in a warm embrace. The three stood there in silence, enjoying the familial moment together.
"Papa! Papa! Tell us all about your adventure!" cried one of the girls.
"No child. The hour is very late. Sleep for now and I'll tell you in the morning."
"Please papa." pleaded the other. "Lydia made us go to bed early so we aren't tired."
"Well...alright" Said Okeer as he scratched the fur behind Meeko's ears. "Climb back into bed, Lucia, Sofie, and I'll tell you all about how I saved the world...twice...within six months."
"Yay!" the both exclaimed as the raced back under their bed sheets.
And so Okeer recollected on how he defeated Alduin and Lord Harkon and brought balance back to the land of Skyrim. The girls where enthralled by Okeer's recollection of the Forgotten Vale and Soverngarde. However something else about Okeer's tale caught their attention.
"Serana sounds like a really nice lady. Is she going to be our new Mama one day?" asked Sofie.
"Ah..I-I um...don't know sweetheart. Perhaps, but it's unlikely. She said she had to deal with some family business after our conflict with her father. I do not know if I'll ever get to see her again."
"Do you want to see here again?" asked Lucia. Okeer did not answer.
"So you defeated a vampire and a dragon?" asked Sofie, changing the subject.
"I've killed countless vampires and dragons, child."
"Wow! Papa's so strong. He'll beat both the Stormcloaks and the Empire and become High King of Skyrim!"
"Papa's more than that, Sofie." interjected Lucia, crossing her arms. "One day, he'll rule the world!" Okeer let out a deep laugh as the two girls giggled along with him.
"Alright girls, that's enough. If I keep you two up any longer Lydia will scold me. Time for bed." Said Okeer as he patted each of them on the head and told them good night, despite their protest to remain awake longer.
Part II
For over ten years the civil war for Skyrim had raged. In that time the Nord named Okeer had come into conflict with the Daedric Prince Molag Bal and had been transformed something that was feared by all that lived. The Dark Lord, Sahrotalok-Dilon, Saarkiin, has risen to power and struck a deadly bargain with the usurper Ulfric Stormcloak.
Under the dark guidance of the chosen undead, Ulfric had lead a courageous charge against the Empires base of operations in Skyrim, the city of Solitude. The Stormcloaks and the dark legions of Saarkiin had stormed the city and dismantled the stronghold of General Tullius. Saarkiin, under the guise of his former self, Okeer, had executed the imperial general himself and handed the city over to Ulfric. While the daft lord was celebrating his unearned victory Saarkiin left the city, leaving two trusted troops behind.
His daughters, Lucia and Sofia, had grown up to follow in their father's footsteps. When they came of age they ha d begged the man they had known as Okeer for the opportunity to attend the College of Winterhold. Okeer, after some prodding from his dear friend Serana, had allowed the girls to attend classes at his college.
Sofia had not be very talented at offensive magic. She flinched at the use of Destruction magic but her prowess in Alteration, Illusion, and Restoration was unmatched. Her defensive capabilities and utility put her at the top of her class, to the ire of her classmates.
Lucia had be the polar opposite. Quickly she had take to the destructive capabilities of Destruction and Conjuration. Fire, ice, and lightning bent to her will as well as atronachs, dremora and the undead. She could raise armies and rain down Hell as well as her own beloved father.
Together Lucia and Sofia made for an unstoppable duo. The former man known as Okeer had been very proud, both as Arch-Mage, and as a father. The bond between the three of them had run so deep that they did not hesitate to follow their father into the darkness after his...transformation.
As the Dark Lord Saarkiin assembled his army of death the two girls became valuable commanders and assets to the machinations of the Skeleton Lord. Serana personally sired them into vampirism at their request and took after them like a mother. In her eyes it was the least she could do for Saarkiin in exchange for everything that he had done for her.
During the Civil War for the future of Skyrim Sofie had used her status as a Nord and citizen of Windhelm to earn the trust of Jarl Ulfric. She found her way to his inner circle, and to his bed chambers. She use Illusion and Alteration to twist Ulfric's mind and wrap him around her finger, like the strings of a puppet. On the behest of the Dark Lord she would pull said strings and lead Ulfric down the desired path. Now her own machinations had come to fruition and she would unfold the great designs of her beloved father.
Under the cover of night she poisoned the high officers and guards of Ulfric's army as they drank and celebrated their victory over Solitude. As the guards slept off their drinks after the celebrations she opened the gates. Her sister, Lucia, marched an army of undead straight into the heart of the city and purged it. As the bloody sun rose over the horizon the Dark Lord himself entered the smoldering city of silence. The two girls bowed deeply before the sight of the dreadful figure and said in unison:
"Father, the city, and all of Skyrim, is yours."
"Indeed..." replied the solemn voice. The pale, dead lights of his eyes became more intense than ever.
Part III
Saarkiin sat upon his Iron Throne deep within Winterfell and observed the two young girls that stood before him,Arya and Sansa Stark. The two Stark girls had been pleading with the Dark Lord to share with them the secrets of magic and the arts of war. It seemed that the two of the wished to become of some use just as Rob and Theon were. All Saarkiin could see, however, were his own two daughters from long ago.
Lucia and Sofia had been taken from him in the war against the Daedric Princes, though he had told the people of Tamriel that they were mortal and had gone with the passage of time. When they had been lost Saarkiin had thanked the stars that he was a undead by the likes of a Skeleton Lord. In this condition his emotions had been in check and he was able to focus on finishing the Daedric War and bring peace to the land. Otherwise he would have torn Nirn apart in his grief.
Of course Okeer, who lay somewhere deep inside Saarkiin's soul, wept for them for decades. However that was long ago and he held no attachments to these two girls beyond a passing curiosity. They would become adults soon enough and therefore would need to make more of themselves beyond being noble broodmares.
"Very well. You two will receive training from my servants, but in exchange I require a task of you. After your skills have been honed you will travel to the Secret City of Braavos and pay a visit to the House of Black and White. I have a need to learn about this 'Many-faced God'. Learn all you can and return to me. Do you understand?"
"Yes, Your Majesty."
"Very well. Then you will need aid on your journey. You will be investigating the existence of a god, therefore you will need the protection of one. I shall send with you the Daedric Prince of night and thievery, Nocturnal. Hold out your hands." The two girls quickly held out their bare hands towards the dark lord. Darkness formed inside their eager palms and the shadows took the forms to two separate artifacts. In Sansa's hand was the Gray Cowl while the Skeleton Key formed in Arya's.
"A fox mask and a key?" questioned Arya as she examined her artifact.
"These are the Daedric artifacts of Nocturnal, the Night Mistress. Do you hear her soft voice? Listen closely."
The girls listened to their items arbitrarily. A quiet voice spoke out.
It has been so long since I have been with my chosen. Where is the third? There must be a third.
"She's asking for a third?" said Sansa in reply to Saarkiin.
"A third? This is unexpected. She has already chosen you two as her Nightingales. Then as fate would demand there shall be a third. Stop your eaves dropping and get in here boy!" commanded Saarkiin as the doors of the great hall were thrown open on their own. Standing behind the doorway was a terrified Brandon Stark, the blood draining from his pale face. "Ignorant, clumsy Bran. Approach."
Bran reluctantly walked towards the throne, his knees nearly buckling under his own weight. He came to a stop right behind his sisters who had gotten to their feet. They gawked at their brother and Sansa began to scold Bran for his disrespect. The three became silent when the dark lord rose from his throne.
"Brandon, I do not have a treasure suitable for you yet. However you have been chosen not only by fate, but by the Mother of Night herself. Bow." The three children once again bowed before Saarkiin as he stepped down from the risen Iron Throne.
"Sansa, Brandon, Arya. You three are now Nightingales, warriors bound to the will of Nocturnal. This is one of the highest honors I can bestow upon my subjects. Do you accept?"
"I do." said Arya.
"I do." said Sansa.
"I.." stumbled Bran. "I do."
"Brandon, you came to this place of your own volition, did you not?"
"Yes I did. I wanted to follow my sisters. I overheard them speaking about their plan to meet with you. I wanted to come, too. To be like Rob and Theon. But I was..." he trailed off.
"Afraid? It is alright, boy. I am the visage of fear personified. Your sisters are filled with fear as well despite their bravery , such is the natural state of a mortal in my presence."
"Our lord saved us from the hell on Earth that was King's Landing. He crushed the Lannisters and protected the North. He's scary looking but our family owns him everything. Don't be scared Bran." said Sansa, placing a warm hand on her brothers shoulder.
"He saved me too. If not for you, Winterfell's Master-at-arms old Black Oak, I would be dead. Or worse a cripple." said Bran rising to meet Saarkiin's terrifying gaze with confidence. "I accept!"
The dead lights of the dark lord's eyes became more intense as the specter inspected his new Nightingales. As of this moment his current Nightingales would be degrading into ash, their contract with their mistress fulfilled. Fortunately they had been recalled to Castle Volkihar and their gear would be gathered and returned to their replacements.
"Good...good." said the dark lord. "Go now and prepare for your journey to Braavos. Enjoy your last few nights of childhood, Nightingales."
"Yes your Majesty!" the exclaimed before running out the door hand in hand. Saarkiin returned to his seat, amused. They will need years of training, but they are fresh. Serana will be pleased.
Part IV
Saarkiin remained on his throne for several hours contemplating his position of power in the new world. Messages from around the continent and beyond had come to him rapidly as he continued his statue-like mediation. King Tyrion's and King Theon's forces had successfully retaken the Westerlands and regained control over the Greyjoy fleet. They each may have had their slipups, but they had proven themselves worthy enough to soon receive their Daedric artifacts as well.
The Dark Lord had kept reservations for Theon and Tyrion as he was not sure that they could handle true power just yet. However he had tested them by giving them each the Aethereal Scepter and Miirak's sword, respectively.
Another message had come in from Serana from across the Narrow Sea. Serana had informed him that she had made contact with the Dragon Queen in the east. Daenerys Targaryen had amassed an army of former slaves, sacked one city and conquered another. After learning of the tale the dark lord was fondly reminded of his life as Okeer once again. He had lived out his youth as a slave as well. Young Okeer would often hear of stories about heroes that came to free the slaves, yet one never came for him. His hero had been the imperial guard that upheld his right to buy his own freedom from the high elves.
Saarkiin had been well pleased to hear of the exploits of this "Mother of Dragons" and had chosen her to compete with another for the right to be the finale monarch of the Seven Kingdoms. More importantly Saarkiin was interested in her dragons. He had felt their hearts beating once they had reached a certain age and had been fascinated with the sensation. Dragons are immortal creatures that will only die when purposefully killed by another. They live in a constant state of life and death, as dictated by the owner of their soul. Should one know the words and own the soul then they could shout the dragons back to life indefinitely. With such long and indecisive lifespans it was necessarily a rare sight to behold an infantile dragon.
Serana's message had also stated that her vicinity near the dragons had increased the replenishment rate of her magicka. That had been great news but in her message she also asked if he could resurrect the dragons of this world. A great deal of many ancient dragon bones had been excavated from the ruins of King's Landing. Yet they were blacken things unfamiliar to Saarkiin and their souls were nowhere to be found. He had already retrieved and resurrected the bones of his old companion, Odahviing the Red Dragon of Dragonsreach. Odahviing seemed to not have to same ability to replenish magicka to his surroundings like dragons of this world.
And finally her message had ended with news of an approaching army preparing to attack Daenerys' city. Saarkiin was not concerned, however. They had three dragons, an army of their own, and Serana wielding his ultimate weapon. At her side was the god-slaying blade of the dead and in her hands it was just as deadly. He would take no chances this time.
The rest of the messages on dark wings confirmed the arrival of King Rob and King Ramsay at the Wall and updates from the fleet. Just as the sun began to set a shadow appeared before Saarkiin and bowed deeply and in disgrace.
"What is it, Feran?"
"My deepest apologize, my lord. It would seem that Margery's and Oberyn's forces have been defeated. They have both survived the conflict and the remainder of their forces are a fortnight away from Harrenhal..." Feran Sadri began to trail off as the shadows began to darken around the dark lord.
"What treachery is this?" replied Saarkiin.
"It would appear that sellswords had been smuggled into Westeros by a pirate-lord named Salladhor Saan. They were able to flank the Reach's forces and overtake them. Casualties were extremely high for our side."
"Then it was my forces that failed, not Margery and Oberyn. Are they injured?"
"Their artifacts protected them. They should be fine."
Saarkiin became quiet for a moment. He knew he had been right to bestow them their artifacts early as he had done with Rob and Ramsay. However his eyes and ears all across Westeros had failed him and his reach had come up short. Anger began to swell inside him. Weak mortals still oppose him and make a mockery of his power despite his earlier display.
"Fine" said the Dark Lord as he rose from his Iron Throne of Ash. "I'll do it myself."
"Shall I inform the Kings at the Wall of your late arrival?"
"This won't take long..." Saarkiin said as he became enveloped in darkness before disappearing.
Part V
Oberyn Martell and Margery Tyrell marched desperately on horseback at the head of there desolate army. They rode together on the same horse that had been one of the few that had survived the battle. It had been weeks since that fateful battle and the two monarchs were exhausted beyond their limits. The food and water had run out days ago and hunger had slowed their march down to a crawl.
Margery was clutching the staff known as Sanguine's Rose in a vice like-grip. She had grown close to the spirit she called Sam that dwelt within the staff. As a queen appointed by the dark lord himself she had insisted against Oberyn's protest that she ride at the forefront of their army alongside himself. That had been a foolish idea for a noble girl with no combat experience whatsoever, yet it had been a fruitful experience.
During the battle the spirit, or maybe a demon, had come forth from the staff and protected the girl, slaughtering just as many foes as the few servants of Saarkiin that had come with them. All while boasting about it's enemies being no match at all. Even Oberyn had discovered in his newfound form that he was stronger, faster, and more skilled with a spear than he had been before.
In fact, Oberyn had learned to appreciate his new body and find some moniker of comfort in his situation. The ails of age and a long life of a warrior had been wiped clean and he had been able to fight better than he had in even his younger years. Yet it had not been enough as the sellswords kept rushing in the thousands. The Red Viper of Dorne had no choice but to gather up Margery and make haste for the Twins and Riverrun.
Oberyn was wearing a crimson cloak with the sigil of the Sunspear on it. On his head and magically hiding his true appearance was none other that the Masque of Clavicus Vile. To the dark lord, his servants, Margery, and the other artifact wielders they would simply see and argonian in a horned mask, but to everyone else they would see Oberyn as he always had been most of his life.
It even had the bonus of him not even being able to tell he was wearing a mask and being capable of eating and drinking while wearing it. His standing with the people around him had also skyrocketed making friendly soldiers that weren't directly his more willing to follow orders. Oberyn bet that it would make him even more popular at parties. The transformation had left him well endowed and Saarkiin had insisted that he "proliferate and begin the species anew." Therefor Oberyn had come to terms with his new form, especially if it meant the safety of his daughters.
The destitute army had passed the ruins of King's Landing and was approaching a forest in the distance. There they would be able to safely outpace a larger pursuing army. They were still in open field leaving them wide open. Oberyn felt his new scales shift on his back and neck like rising of hair. He sniffed the air and tasted the nearby stench of horseshit of many horses but they were riding the only horse that hadn't died of exhaustion.
He opened his mouth to warn the few hundred surviving soldiers right as an arrow hit their horse directly in the arse. The horse bucked wildly and threw the two into the dirt and sprinted for the far off forest.
"Are you alright." he asked Margery picking her up.
"We won't be..." she whispered.
"Men! Run for the forest! Lose them in the trees!" yelled the Viper King as he tried to carry Margery. Her leg was severely broken and she wouldn't move for herself. She just kept hitting her hand on the ground whispering under her breath.
"Margery we have to run."
"We won't be remembered!" she cried looking up at him in tears. She hoisted herself up with the staff as the demon of the artifact appeared behind her.
"Men of the Reach! Stand with your Queen!" commanded Oberyn. As if through the power of his mask the soldiers stop the retreat and most of the seven-hundred men that survived the first battle returned to their queen's side. Oberyn looked around and with his newly acquired keen vision he could see the tens-of-thousands of men on horseback charging. It was the Golden Company and the Second Sons. They would be upon them in mere minutes.
"Our names won't be remembered..." said Margery as she limped towards the pursuers in the distance. "If we die like trampled flowers. My family died trying to take King's Landing from the god of death. They got what they deserved, and they're all gone now. I am the last Tyrell. A forgotten noble girl. I refuse to be forgotten and written of as less than worthless." as she spoke Oberyn raised his spear and signaled the men to form ranks. They barred their spears and swords and dug in, prepared to die. "Scream and cry and none will help us. Plead and beg, nothing. From this day the Men of the Reach will no longer live as cattle feeding the rest of the world! We will die facing battle head on, as my father, brother, and husband before me!"
Margery's strength in her leg finally gave out but the Viper caught her before she fell. He hoisted her up and whispered in her ear: "Great speech. This nightmare will be over soon. You can rest now."
The demon stepped around them and bared his strange, fiery greatsword muttered something about smelling weakness. The sellswords were on them now and they could feel the beating of the hooves deep in their chest. Whether out of instinct or false hope the soldiers formed protective ranks around the two monarchs as they embraced each other. They prepared for the end.
A distant roaring in the sky caught their attention. They could see a red thing up in the distance beyond the clouds but couldn't make out what it was. It roared again but this time their gaze snapped to the sound of a distinct thud in between the two armies. The clouds began to darken and swirl together, blocking out the sun. The winds howled and the air grew colder. In the spot of the impact a figure began to emerge from the dust and darkness. Tears welled in Margery's eye while Oberyn let out a quiet curse.
It was the Dark Lord. Saarkiin stared down the charging force of sellswords as he had done time and time before. This time it would be quick, and it would be messy.
"Stand far, far away from me. Flee for your lives." said the dark lord while keeping his dead glare upon the sellswords. "Do not look back. Mortals were not meant to see what I am about to do."
"Yes, master." Said Oberyn, cradling Margery in his arms. He took off in the opposite direction and the soldiers followed suit. Maragery, looking over the Viper's shoulder, watched the events unfold between the Saarkiin and the enemy.
"It is time I tested the full extent of my magic if I am to face Alduin once again. Thank you for the sacrifices, Iron Bank of Braavos." said Saarkiin as his hands began to glow and several overlapping rings of fire began to form around him."I call upon the ultimate engine of destruction, the discarded bastard of Molag Bal, fading ember of Coldharbor. My child, come out and play! [Summon: Infernal Gargoyle Prime]"
The swirling clouds above parted and a fiery, black mass fell from the sky. It barreled downward at terminal velocity like a comet. The falling star struck head on into the center of the Golden Companies gilded forces and launched dirt, debris, and bodies in all directions. The impact had formed a fiery crater that looked like a giant, blazing brazer. Men scattered, confused and disoriented from the great explosion that had devastated their charge.
From inside the fire pit stirred a massive creature. As the flames died it rose and slowly stepped from the pit. It was an impossibly gigantic gargoyle enveloped in flames. It stood above the fear struck men like an eagle looked down on field mice. Its fiery wings, more developed than an averaged gargoyle brute, unfolded and extended outward as the creature let out a deafening, flaming roar. The soldiers of fortune closest to the Infernal Gargoyle Prime were incinerated instantly and from their ashes rose flame Atronachs that lobbed fireballs at the fleeing survivors.
As the army fled the monster gave chase, belching thick flames like a dragon would. The earth shook with each step the creature took which made it difficult for the men of the Golden Company to escape. Using the confusion of the other sellsword company being destroyed, the Second Sons made their retreat. The creature didn't notice their escape and continued to scorch the earth that the mortals walked upon. In that moment two more explosions rocked the land and the army, and two more fire monsters rose from the craters.
"Destroy every last one of them." said Saarkiin as his grim gaze took in the sight of thousands burning alive. "Turn them to ash. Leave none alive to tell the tale. We shall let the Iron Bank of Braavos wonder what happened to their beloved sellswords. Lets see them collect that Lannister debt now. What was it that Tyrion always said? 'A Lannister always pays his debts'? Well, consider this payment with interest."
For the entire day and night the three Infernal Gargoyle Primes burned the countryside between Harrenhal and the ruins of King's Landing. After that last "battle" Margery knew what it meant to be queen.