With hair still damp from the bathhouse, Ellyria sat at the edge of the bed with her elbows resting on her knees. The fire in her veins and in her lungs had cooled once out of the desperation of a battle to the death. She ignored the burning in her eyes. There was no reason to cry. Even as she reassured herself of this, the tears leaked down her cheeks. There was a purpose for her, a propulsive force filling her body. So many more dragon souls were waiting for her to consume them, ready to give her all the power in the universe. She desired it, lusted for it, craved the burn of another soul streaming into her life force. When Abnur cracked open the door without knocking, Ellyria swallowed harshly. What would he think? If word got out from him or Khamira, what would the rest of the world think? Or more importantly, her children and Razum-dar – would they care for her still? Would they still accept her, even as the power-hungry monster she was becoming?

Ellyria watched as he divested himself of armor, slowly but surely making his way through the room toward her bed despite having a room to himself the next door down. Not that it had been used for most of their time in Elsweyr. His hands were gentle, more than they had ever been, as he pulled her face up and wiped her tears with his thumbs. She swallowed again, ignoring the lump that was growing in her throat. It was easy to fall back into the sensual routine with him, easy to maintain the personal and political separation they employed in Cyrodiil, easy to forget the ways they wronged each other in the light of day and in the dark of night. She'd missed him before this, missed the idea of him. She didn't realize just how much until she had him again. She missed Razum-dar, too, but the guilt was easy to ignore when Abnur was touching her so softly. When her eyes fluttered shut, she could almost imagine hands covered in fur instead.

What would be left for her when the dragons were all dead? Would she still be Ellyria, or would she continue to grow into something else, something dark and evil? Did it even matter?

"I need to check in on my family before we continue following Kaalgrontiid." Her voice was quiet, unwilling to disturb the stillness of the room. Her fingers brushed against the gray hair on his chest, keeping her eyes away from his face. She would give him no indication that she was thinking of Razum-dar instead of him. "We've sent letters, but six months is a long time to be away from them when they have no other but me."

"If you must, do so with haste."

That was it. No more was said as they lay together in the dark. When Ellyria's eyes started to burn with tears again, she couldn't for the life of her figure out why.


The wayshrine of Auridon was empty when she emerged into view. On her own feet, Ellyria started the walk to her townhouse, relishing the calm and quiet night. The air was cool on her skin and the light of the moons was gently lighting the streets. Dragons spun in her awareness, much farther away, though their pull on her had yet to fade in its intensity. Living with it would not be the hard part, she knew. It would be living without that would hurt. Even so, she longed for the kill. They would die for her offense, even if it killed her, too. The house was dark as she approached the front doors. Creeping inside with ease, Ellyria drifted across the floors with the silent steps of a specter. Sarelia, Adrian, Evelyn, and Navarre all slept comfortably in beds, free of worry or guilt or pain or hate.

Ellyria had asked for such a life of turmoil, and yet, what she wouldn't give to have her sweet roll and eat it, too. Her home and her family were beautiful, logical, easy. It was the dirty, ugly drive toward adventure that pulled her heart away from Auridon. As she ascended the steps to her loft, it was a shock to see a Khajiit shaped body lying in her bed. Swallowing around the lump in her throat, she wondered if Razum-dar would smell Abnur on her even after bathing. Paranoia was creeping into her head. He would know, it whispered. He'll cast you out of his bed and his heart. With trembling hands, Ellyria stripped her armor away, laying each piece neatly on the chair before her vanity. It wasn't until she was halfway between the sheets of her bed that Razum-dar stirred slightly from sleep, drawing her closer until she was snuggly against his chest.

"You stink of magic," he rumbled groggily, "but this one is glad you are safe."

Her crying was soft enough that it didn't wake him further. If he noticed the stench of death and despair on her or the wetness of tears in his fur, he didn't mention it.

Ellyria had only allotted herself three days to spend in Auridon, and she intended on making the most of it. Filled with excitement, Adrian and Sarelia were at her heels from the moment she'd descended the stairs. It wasn't until the midday meal that she got even a second to breathe on her own.

"What were you doing here, in my bed without me?" Ellyria asked teasingly, bumping her shoulder into Razum-dar's. They watched as Sarelia and Adrian sparred on the terrace, both far more advanced in skill than she expected them to be. They were very quick learners. "I wasn't expecting you."

Razum-dar's head turned away from her, eyes drifting up to the sky. She wondered what expression he wore. "Raz prefers to find the most comfortable bed to sleep in. Sometimes he is in yours and sometimes he is not."

Though it wasn't said like an accusation, she felt like it was. Ellyria hesitated before saying anything. What could she say? What right did she have to tell him where he should spend his nights when hers were spent with another? She wondered if it had always been so hard to breathe. Grunts from the children filled the air. A whoosh of air was sent from Adrian's lungs when Sarelia planted a kick square in his chest. He stumbled back, unable to recover before her training sword smacked him flat across the abdomen. Ellyria was proud to see Sarelia with such talent. She extended a hand down, eager to help her brother up to go another round. They tossed down the training swords to trade for fists only.

Fur brushed softly against the skin of her calf as she sorted through the dresses hanging in her wardrobe. With most of her days spent in armor or trousers, Ellyria was at a loss to what to wear when she didn't need either. The velvet material felt fake on her skin. Like playing dress-up, the cloth felt like a lie. There were more than enough lies in her life. The thought of putting on a pretty dress to be a pretty girl filled her mind with frustration. She was a warrior, not a woman. Her eyes burned with tears of frustration. Scoffing quietly to herself, she felt like her eyes would never be dry again. Every day brought a new set of tears, a new wave of anger, a new mouthful of lies, each worse than the last. Razum-dar's tail curled around her ankle before his hand found her elbow. The tears spilled over before she could stop them. So much was happening on top of her. Dragons were decimating Elsweyr and she was home trying to pick a dress for a walk around town. It was all too much. Ellyria ripped her arm away from Razum-dar, stumbling back with the force of it. She flung the door of the wardrobe closed with a slam. Pacing to the other side of the room still didn't give her enough distance. Instead of running, her fingers pressed into her eyes to stop the flow of tears even as she sucked in a wavering breath.

"I can't fucking do this," she whispered to herself.

Sinking down onto the edge of the bed felt like giving up. She wished she'd never met Abnur Tharn, or Razum-dar, or the Graybeards, or anyone else. She wished she'd never stepped through the portal that dragged her from Aldmeris and into the strange dangers of Tamriel. Dragging her hands down her face, she realized what exactly she would give to be home instead of in this place with this weight on her shoulders. Where was home to her, though? Ellyria was disappointed with the knowledge that even she didn't know where home was, much less what it would feel like to be there. Aldmeris was a city of steel and glass, abandoned to men by the Altmer of old. It was a city of technology, not magic. They were beholden to no gods, and yet she'd come to Tamriel and fought a being she wasn't meant to believe in and worshipped gods she'd never known could be real. She was a being of legend herself, and not even the legends of her own origins. She wasn't meant to be here. She was meant to be there, skirting through life without much of anything while waiting for her children to marry and move out so she could be alone again, working herself to death. A weight settled on her shoulders, attentive and warm. Razum-dar guided her head to rest against his shoulder, lending silent support.

"What troubles you, sugar paws?"

Her lip trembled when her mouth tried to work. A sniff broke through the silence as she tried to gather her thoughts into words. Defeat slumped her shoulders. What could she say to someone who's loyalty did not lie with her? And yet what could she say to the man whose loyalty lay only with himself? Stuck – she was stuck, and she knew it. With no one to confide in, she would contain it all until she burst. The walls would be painted with her blood and brain when she ceased to function. Pulled between Razum-dar and Abnur Tharn would be where she met the end of her own sanity.

"I can't – I can't tell you," she finally said.

Ellyria felt him sigh. The breath escaped him silently. She knew he wouldn't push her, and yet it still made the guilt surge into her heart. There was only so much she could hold within, so much she could handle alone. Even the Dragonborn was still only human. Feeling pathetic, she cried softly into her hands. She was genuinely surprised when Razum-dar didn't leave. Instead, he pulled her closer, content to sit quietly while she fell apart at his side.

"You cannot tell Razum-dar, but maybe you can tell just Raz," he offered quietly, his voice barely audible over her own quiet noises of despair. She could hear him swallow, could feel his uncertainty. "Raz is here for Ellyria, even if Razum-dar has a duty to Queen Ayrenn."

Her heart urged her to speak, desperate to give itself to someone when she felt like she had no one. Her mind, ever logical, kept her lips sealed. He would turn on her, just as Varen had, just as Abnur had, just as Mannimarco had. She was tired of betrayal, tired of betraying and being betrayed. She was sick of the lies and the deceit. She was tired of being the puppet of destiny, controlled by the strings of other people and beings. And yet, even as she decided to stay quiet, to tell him nothing of consequence, her mouth was following her heart without her consent. Staring off into nothing with unblinking eyes, her thoughts veered in a desperate direction, unable to be stopped.

"I wish I had never met Abnur Tharn," she mumbled darkly. "He's been ruining my life from the moment he walked into it. And now I'm going to lose you because of him, if I ever had you in the first place. And all of this is all my fault."

Razum-dar was silent, and for that, she was thankful. Ellyria didn't know if she could continue if he began to speak. It was hard to say the words floating in her mind, especially when she knew she was making a mistake. The Queen would hear her truth, but not from her, and then she would ride off into the sunset to fight more dragons and leave her family behind again at the mercy of those around them.

"I am born from Aldmeris, not Cyrodiil. I was brought here by accident nearly thirteen years ago by Abnur Tharn in a portal accident. I'm not who or what you think I am, Raz. I'm the Dragonborn." Her voice was a whisper until she fell silent, waiting with bated breath for a response, waiting for him to leave. When he didn't even breathe, the words began to tumble forth like vomit. "I begged the dragons to take me, to let me be at their side. I'd have burned the world to soar through the sky with them, just once. It was all I could do in the face of their greatness, and yet, they spurned me. They turned me away, swatted me back like a fleshfly. Now, I'm going to kill each and every one, steal each and every soul they possess. I will hunt Kaalgrontiid to the edges of Tamriel and beyond if need be, until I have his skull to mount on my wall. A beast will not scorn me and live to tell the tale."

The tears were hot like the hatred that burned within as they slipped off her chin. A heavy sniff filled the air as she waited to hear his response. When nothing came, Ellyria didn't bother to glance up at him. She knew what to expect. He would leave, and she would be left alone with her children and her mother and her obligations to save the world again. The cycle was becoming old at best and exhausting at worst. Restless, Ellyria surged to her feet. Desperation swept through her when Razum-dar only watched her move with a vacant expression. It was so different from the soft way his gaze fell on her before. If he would not react, she would twist the knife that she'd driven into him.

"I kissed him first this time. And now I don't know how to stop." Her lip trembled and her voice wavered with the lump in the back of her throat. Her vision blurred with the fresh set of water that would stream from her eyes. "I don't know how to choose you, even though I love you. I don't know how to stop, Raz, even though I am so in love with you."

The silence was thick between them for too long. Razum-dar stood from his seat without a word. She heard him swallow tightly, heard his labored breath, felt his hesitation as his clawed hand reached for her ever so slightly. Her own fingers twitched to grab him, to catch him before he could leave. Then he was gone, slipping down the stairs with the soft steps of a thief. She knew it was coming. She knew it was going to happen, as soon as she forced out the words. And yet, it still hurt so goddamn bad. Instead of three days, her reprieve was over in the hours of a half a day as she tugged on her armor and left her family with a note at the table. Upon hearing the laughter of Sarelia and Adrian and Evelyn and Navarre on the terrace, she knew she wouldn't be missed.

The dragons within her roared in delight at her misery.