A/N: This chapter is a random bit I came up with after several attempts. It's a short narrative of the time between the destruction of Pinemoon cave's coven, and the claiming of Dawnbreaker.

Willing it or not, Mith has started building up some rep- much like the Hero of Kvatch in Oblivion, or the protagonist in Mount and Blade. Started clearing off some bandits, now killed some vampires, soon our man will be killing dragons.

Now then, on to the reviews.

Sdarkness05: He is- Mithras is about two centuries old by now, though it means little by Altmer standards. Or elven standards in general. Heck, Dyvaith Fyr has been alive since the First Era, not to mention Vivec and the other Triunes. Thanks for the review, man.

Oc: Yeah, Serana's old as fuck- makes Mithras look like a boy in comparison. Though I noticed age means little when it comes to power, as the Dragonborn bests Alduin, arguably one of the oldest creatures in Nirn.

LuqqyMan: Hey man, thanks for the reviews. Yes, the scenario is pretty much alive- much like Oblivion's, in a sense. Mithras may be the Dragonborn, but the people around him have their own agendas and interests- sometimes, they converge.

Mash-Potatoes1: Glad to see you're enjoying it.

Joker555888: She's annoying, but I like her concept, and Dawnbreaker is a really cool sword.

Chapter 6

"P-Please, no more…"

As an Altmer, Mithras had seen his fair share of nasty things in his centuries-long lifespan- from secret Necromantic rites at the catacombs of the College of Sapiarchs, to the sheer brutality of the Thalmor as butchered their way through the Imperial City during the Culling.

Even so, the sight of the prisoners chained like cattle to the walls of a dungeon made his stomach twist in disgust. There were about a dozen of them, all of them women, and they were kept in a pair of cells far too small to accommodate all of them. A stench of piss and excrements filled the air, making their conditions look all the more degrading.

"Hmm…" Keeping his emotions under check, the wizard turns his gaze to his companion. Much to his surprise, Jordis' face was hard and stoic- though her dark blue eyes glistened in barely contained rage.

A quick evaluation showed clear signs of a collective mental breakdown, probably through use of Illusion to bend their minds in order to make them docile. If only he had a priest with him, maybe this should be easier to deal with- but maybe…

Putting them to sleep with a Calm spell was easier than he'd thought- though carrying them out of the cave certainly took a while. When they were finally done, dawn was already upon them- the first beams of sunlight peering through the tops of the trees to bathe them in their warmth.

Once the rescued prisoners were safe, Mithras went back into the chapel- alone.

"Let's see what you were up to…"

Back in the Summerset Isles, looting the corpses of the dead was a practice generally frowned upon- due to the great respect in which the Altmer held their ancestors and the dead. Mithras himself used to hold onto this tradition with religious fervor, until he'd been through his first battle.

When the best armor available is that of a dead Maormer pirate, the traditions can go through the window. Besides, it's not like the slain will need it anyways.

"Hmm…" Oddly enough, the black and crimson Vampire Armor seemed to fit his slender, athletic frame like a glove. While he would have steel plate over leather any other day, the freedom of movement it provided was something he felt very comfortable with.

Besides, it was much better than walking around in his now ruined robe.

After he was done salvaging whatever he could from the other vampires- mostly jewelry, but also a handful of tomes and an odd enchanted ring- he turned his attention to the shrine itself.

Standing imponent before a sacrificial altar, was a statue of Molag Bal- Daedric Prince of Domination and Enslavement, the Harvester of Souls, King of Rape and Strife. A figure of dark regality and sheer malevolence, overlooking the underground cathedral much like a tyrant overlooks his servants.

And there, resting like an offering at its feet, was Meridia's Beacon.

In deep contrast to the statue of the Schemer Prince, the beacon's resonance was one of radiance and light- for one sensitive to magic such as Mithras, it felt like a shard of the very sun itself.

He now stood on a crossroads.

When his hand had touched the beacon, Meridia- the Daedric Prince of Light- had commanded him to bring it back to her, and to cleanse her temple of her enemies. On the other hand, the Altmer knew taking the beacon would mean crossing Molag Bal, a Daedra whose attention he most certainly did not want to have. Denying Meridia would bring him no good either…

"Me and my bad luck…" What a difficult decision, it was like being between a rock and a hard place. Both could get him fucked over, in ways his mortal mind could barely conceive. "Ah, fuck it…"

Throwing caution out through the window, the Altmer takes the beacon in his hands and darts off to the exit. Tremors rock the cavern as he runs as fast as direwolf. Almost miraculously, he manages to make it out seconds before the entirety of the cave simply collapses onto itself.

"What in Oblivion was that?!" he can hear a worried Jordis ask over the ringing of his ear. "Are you alright?"

"I've been better." The Altmer rebukes, taking in deep breaths in an attempt to regain his composure. "Fuck…"

"Wait…what?! I'm not following, what did you do? The cave, it just- what?" To be honest, Mithras was almost as confused by what happened as Jordis was- though his own actions confused him the most.

For a brief instant, the usually cold and rational mage acted on nothing more than impulse and a strange sense of pride, as he effectively spat on the face of the Lord of Coldharbour in his own shrine no less.

Deep within him, something had jostled awake. Seeing his hesitation, it had screamed into his mind, that he should not fear. That he should not back down before a challenge, that he should not submit before any Aedra or Daedra.

For the Dovah does not bow, the Dovah rules!

"I…" For the first time in years, the Altmer found himself at a loss for words. He did not know what came over him at that moment, he simply did what he felt like doing- consequences be damned. It took him a few seconds to recollect himself, when he finally turned to meet Jordis' gaze, he said. "I chose to help Meridia."

"Meridia? You mean the voice from that strange orb?" the girl asks, pointing at the beacon in his hands.

"Indeed." Under the sunlight, the orb had a faint, golden glow to it- and the Altmer could sense the magicka irradiating from it, flowing into his body much like a stream, replenishing his exhausted reserves and knitting his wounds together. He could now see why the vampires wanted it, with the raw power it channeled, even the most taxing of rituals could be performed. "But first, we need to deal with them."

While the rescued girls were blissfully asleep, due to his spell, they still needed to figure out what to do with them.

"I think I might have an idea."

"Hmm…" he quirks his eyebrow inquisitively at Jordis, who then continues with an embarrassed grin.

"You can do that spell right? The one that brought us here, what was it called…"

"Blink." An interesting suggestion, though Blink was still limited in its range- teleporting the user only a few miles at a time. Unless one had immense magicka reserves, it was highly impractical for traveling long distances. Although… "I think that might actually work. Say, what is the closest settlement to this place?"

"I think it's Dragon Bridge, to the east, though it's still about four days of travel until there. Why?"

"Then hold on tight." Mithras states with a small grin. "Things might get messy."

Before she even had the chance to reply, the Altmer had already jumped- taking everyone with him.

Nords, as a general rule, tended to be wary of magic and its wielders.

Mages, as a general rule, tended to be arrogant, misanthropic and secretive about their studies- deeming the common rabble too ignorant and superstitious to even begin understanding the mysteries of Aetherius. Therefore, it was not rare that a wizard shows little to no care when one of his experiments turns an entire village invisible- it was probably their fault, anyway. Who told those peasants to live so close to my tower?

Therefore, when an Altmer wizard appears out of thin air, with a dozen sleeping women by his feet and a fully armored Nord by his side, one can only imagine how the people of Dragon Bridge reacted.

At first, they reacted with alarm- and then, when the first farmer recognized his lost daughter among the rescued prisoners, they hailed him as their hero.

Which led them to the current situation.

"Another toast to our vampire hunter, Mithras!" the owner of the Four Shields Tavern, a red-haired Nord woman by the name of Faida, states, raising a horn of mead high up in the air.

"Hail Mithras!" a chorus of voices replies, before the music starts once again.

Sitting on a place of honor at the inn's best table, the Altmer does his best to repay their enthusiasm- giving them his best smile, which probably barely qualified as one, before sending yet another flagon of strong, Nord ale down his throat.

It tasted awful, disgustingly so, but for a mer who got himself drunk on Sujamma on a nightly basis back in Blacklight, it was not that bad.

"They're calling you a hero." Sitting by his side with a flagon of her own, Jordis seems to be having the time of her life watching him embarrass himself before the crowd of drinking nords. "Mithras, the Ardent-Flame, Hero of Dragon Bridge and vampire hunter. Now that's something bards can sing about!"

"Good grief…" All he did was killing a few bloodsuckers for coin. Sure, the coven might have been stronger than he had predicted, and he may have saved a few girls from being sacrificed to Molag Bal…now that he thought about it, it did sound somewhat heroic.

"Ah come on, don't you dare tell me you're not liking it." The girl presses on teasingly. "I know you are, Mithy-Mithy, I can read you like a book~"

"You're fucking drunk."

"Hey, not fair! You're drunk too!"

"I'm not drunk." The Altmer rebukes, taking another sip of the mead. "I am very…lightheaded."

"That means you're drunk!" Jordis victoriously claims, before a serving girl comes by their table with yet another round of mead- throwing a timid smile Mithras' way before scurrying off with a blush. "Oh, did you see that, Mithy? Hehe"

"See what?" the Altmer inquires, feigning ignorance. He might be slightly drunk, but he was not one to back down from a tease.

"Too bad for her, though." She states with a smirk, a drunken blush taking over her cheeks as she wriggles her arms around his, pressing her body tight against him. Without her heavy armor, Jordis' body is surprisingly soft and feminine. "This night, you're all mine."

"Hm…" that earned a quirked eyebrow from the mage. Though he was by no means reserved when it came to sex, it still surprised him a bit to see Jordis acting this flirty.

"Hmm…hmm…is that all you can say?" This time, there was a hint of annoyance at her voice, and she makes for letting him go. Before she can do that, however, he grabs her by the arm and says.

"Come with me."

What follows is a night to remember.

A/N: That's it for today, the prelude for another fight against Malkoran, before wrapping up the Solitude arc with the Wolf Queen.

Thx for reading, give me your thoughts on the reviews.

Wildfurion.