Everything belongs to Bethesda Studios. And the wonderful people of Beyond Skyrim. No profit made, I just own the OC and the plot.

It's been 160 days.

I am so sorry. So... sorry. And so glad to be back. I thought a lot about going into detailed hows and whys, but I know how apologies wear thin over time. I'm also doing my best to look forward at the moment... Anyway, the beast called life's been tamed for now and my sulking muse and I had a long discussion (and wine, lots of wine... responsible adult that I am). I hope you enjoy this chapter.

Many thanks to everyone who decided to follow this story or even favourited it, to those who are patient enough to return after all these months and to everyone who found this story just now. Special thanks to DrWandel and sunnyontheheights who left reviews while I went underground. You are wonderful and loved.

Chapter Twenty-Six

Muriel looked up at the crisp blue and sighed with content. The sun felt good on her skin and the soft breeze with which Kynareth was chasing tiny specks of cotton across the sky even more. The only thing that'd make this day more perfect, would've been the sound of the bright orange leaves of the Rift, rustling in the wind. That stunning play of colour the sunbeams painted on the forest floor, breathtaking in its simplicity, for a moment she missed it awfully.

It was a clear morning and one of the few she had experienced in Bruma this far. Due to the city's close proximity to the Jerall Mountains, the sky wore the same grey coat as the rocks underneath more often than it didn't. The Jeralls, those giants of snow and stone, held on to the clouds like bandits held on travelers on a toll road, shaking them long enough for a few coins to drop out or in this case, raindrops. Only then they'd be allowed to pass and it seemed that even for the weather, the way from and to Skyrim came with a price.

"You're leaving?", a familiar voice disturbed the quiet moment of appreciation and Muriel slowly turned away from the city gate. She had hoped to avoid running into him today. Yesterday, too. She had stayed at the inn all day, knowing that she couldn't indefinitely avoid the inevitable, knowing that she had to return to the study eventually, but had decided to ignore the fact for a little peace and quiet until then.

"Not another bounty, I hope?"

"No, actually", she answered with a sigh and Armion's features smoothed almost unnoticeably. "Just a favor. I'll be back in the evening."

"Good."

His gaze travelled over her, stopping briefly on her backpack like its volume could reveal a lie. Muriel smiled softly. She had packed light for this trip, just a few provisions and other essentials. Her destination was just two, maybe three hours up the mountains. She wasn't sure, but she knew Applewatch wasn't far. And the way back would probably be even faster.

The 'favor' couldn't even be considered a real task, any courier could do it, but when Hjotra had complained about the latest cider shipment missing from the small farming town, Muriel had been quick to offer going up there first thing in the morning.

She had come to like cider, but what she liked even more was the prospect of one week rent-free living at the inn. Her coin purse was getting lighter by the day and for what felt like in years, money was slowly becoming something she had to concern herself with. And, of course, the short trip would take her out of the city for a while – on her own for once. She needed that. Especially after the dark, foreboding look that had appeared on the Justiciar's face when her mouth had once more outrun her brain.

She looked at him just in time for his gaze to wander back to her face and she could almost see all the thoughts behind the yellowish green, despite the obvious question overshadowing most of it. Muriel wasn't sure if she wanted to answer it. She could imagine the smug look it'd earn her, deeming the idea of running someone's errand way beneath himself, beneath anyone of status. In the back of her head a voice whispered her agreement.

Even though this time she had offered her help, the things people sometimes requested were mundane tasks more often than they were not. Never would she forget that one time when Elgrim's wife Hafjorg had asked her to get an ore sample from Shor's Stone and the look on Brynjolf's face when she had agreed. Muriel sighed. It felt like a lifetime ago, coming home from High Hrothgar, the victorious slayer of the World-Eater. Maybe the old alchemist had just tried to do her a favor. All of Riften had talked about her in the weeks she had buried herself in Honeyside. Or at least that's what Bryn had told her.

Still, people had the weird tendency to ask for her help in the simplest of tasks, like somehow those deeds would create a stir that put the rest of their lifes in order as well. None of them knew that she wasn't the ultimate problem solver the bards adressed verses to. She blinked up to the sky with another sigh. It didn't stop her from running those errands anyway. And why shouldn't she? Getting to the bottom of the missing delivery was easy enough and it might make someone's life a little easier.

Maybe because you're the Dragonborn? The saviour of Tamriel? Does that ring a bell?

Muriel could read all that in Armion's face, that and more. That it had even come this far. That she was able to predict the Thalmor's reaction showed that she had spent too much time within Bruma's walls. Too much time in strange company.

Yet, after her silence had grown too long, the elf simply nodded.

"Stay clear of goblins this time, Dragonborn."

Then he threw a short glance to the sky as well, excused himself and walked away. Muriel's gaze followed him until he caught up with his associate who had waited nearby and her brow furrowed. Ignoring the younger mer's sour look she watched them resume their patrol.

Stay clear of goblins?

Well, yes, she very much intended to. Did he had to remind her that he had been the one to patch her up the last time? Did he have to rub it in?

Surely he would've been a lot more creative then.

This way, it hadn't sounded especially hostile. Not even taunting. The stairs blocked her line of sight as the elves walked down and disappeared from her view. Maybe he was getting sick, but it had sounded a lot like 'take care'.

Muriel shook her head softly and finally turned to the city gate. She could worry about him at a later time, but right now she wanted nothing else than to feel the wind and sun on her face and fill her mind with the tranquility only a walk through the forest could provide.

A few birds abandoned their hiding place high up in the crowns of the pine trees as she left the city behind. With loud wing beats and even louder croaking they fled through the sky as she made her way down from Bruma and further up north until they were gone and nothing was heard but her own steps disturbing the silence surrounding her.

The forest was as beautiful as the one to the south, but in its very own icy, snow-powdered way. Not like Falkreath's forest on the other side of the Jeralls, rich in game and overflowing in all shades of dark green, and nothing like the deep pine forest on the edge of the marshland of Hjaalmarch where the ground was covered in needles and the trees sometimes grew so tightly packed, it was hard to find a way through them. And still, it reminded her very much of Skyrim. Muriel felt her heart grow a little heavier at the thought.

It didn't take long until the road grew steeper and slowly, but steadily started to climb up the mountainside. The sun was about to reach its peak when Muriel passed a watch tower, but the two guards dressed in Bruma's colours remained the only living things she encountered on her way. With each step it seemed to get whiter and colder and soon enough the sunlight turned the forest into a glistening world, almost glasslike in its icy beauty.

Applewatch, as it turned out, consisted of only three houses and just twice as many residents and Muriel quickly decided that the term 'town' was rather generous.

But as long as the cider's good, right?

She shrugged and tore her eyes away from the unnecessary signpost to start looking for the man Hjotra had described. Even without any description, the task of finding someone responsible for the cider shipments among the few villagers, didn't sound awfully time-consuming.

Maybe she could even grab dinner before she had to head up to the castle and trying to remember what kind of broth the lady of the Jerall View Inn had skimmed this morning, Muriel almost mistook the soft prickle down the nape of her neck for a soft breeze that had found its way through her armor.

But... there was no breeze. And no way for the wind to find a way down to her skin through all the layers of linen, wool and leather she had put on for the trip. It left a strange feeling of unease in her gut, for the prickle felt strangely familiar. Muriel was sure to have felt it before, somewhere, sometime, but she couldn't quite put a finger on it. It was like she was being watched, but she knew what that felt like. This was different. She was about to turn to the snowy forest at her back to find the source of the feeling, when boots on snow announced an elderly Imperial.

"Welcome traveler", the man greeted her. Muriel's eyes wandered briefly over the rolled up sleeves of his tunic as she snuggled deeper into her muffler. Sunny day or not, they were still pretty far up the Jeralls. But apparently a few sun rays equalled warm weather not only to the Nords. "What brings you to Applewatch on this fine day?"

"Uh, I was sent by Hjotra", she quickly gathered her thoughts, trying to ignore the urge to let her searching gaze wander off. "Apparently a shipment of cider is overdue?"

"Ah, yes", he nodded. "Sorry about that. Aebond was... feeling a little under the weather recently. Didn't help he was run ragged."

Muriel didn't answer. She had no idea who Aebond or the old man were, but apparently she had found the right person right away, just as predicted.

"We have the cider for Stantus ready. You can take it back to him. I'm sure he has arranged payment for you, yes?"

"Yes, thank you", she said slowly. "But actually I was hoping you would just deliver it as usual? I..." She paused and threw a glance over her shoulder into the snowy forest. "I... don't think I'm heading back just yet..."

The Imperial straightened his back and for a second she felt bad about not agreeing to make the delivery herself. It was stupid, she knew. The people of Applewatch were more than capable of fulfilling their own contracts and it shouldn't feel like she was causing them extra trouble.

"Of course, of course...", the old man said as cheerily as before. "I'll tell Aebond. Hope you enjoy the weather, traveler."

"I will", Muriel reassured him with a smile, but as he turned around, she held him back. "Say, what's up the mountains to the northeast?"

"Up there?", he laughed. "I wouldn't go up there. A few ruins, mainly, and of course, ogre."

She thanked him quietly and let him leave to arrange the shipment to Bruma. Cloud Ruler Temple was somewhere in that direction and it was a ruin, but had he meant the old fort? It had been a depressing sight, but the farmer seemed old enough to remember the Blades' former headquarter in its prime, before the Aldmeri Dominion had put it in its current state.

Muriel looked down the road where somewhere in the distance Bruma's thick stone walls shone in the sunlight. She could almost make out the flags from here, thanks to the crystal clear air. With a groan she looked back into the snowy forest. This was idiotic, she should just head back. She could make it down the mountains in no time, maybe even catch a ride on Applewatch's carriage. Then a delicious meal and maybe one or two bottles of mead before facing Armion back at the castle who would surely pelt her again with questions about the Blades and their whereabouts. Her fingers twitched against her thighs.

"Ah, damn it." With a determined expression on her face she turned and marched into the forest.

Just one look. Yes, just take a quick look and then... you'll be back in no time.

It wouldn't take long. Even if her sense of direction wasn't always the most reliable, she was sure Cloud Ruler Temple wasn't far. And from there it had taken her about four hours back to Bruma, so time wasn't really that pressing. She could easily make it back before the residents of Castle Bruma would even be half-way through their dinner and she had to be up there at the usual time. Luckily, Armion insisted on his meals – remembering her past attempt of shadowing the elves, she knew he only had two per day – and she didn't quite want to imagine how their appointments would've been, had the elf been hungry. A quick glance through the tree tops told her that she had at least five hours before that'd become relevant.

Half-mumbling to herself, Muriel walked on. The snow made each step twice as exhausting and she slipped more than once. Walking from one tree to the other in hopes that their roots had somehow evened out the sloping ground, she carefully kept an eye out for anything hostile. The feeling scratching at her nape seemed to get stronger, but it wasn't the only thing worrying her. The guards of Bruma weren't shy about sharing stories about ogres and mountain lions living in the forests of the Jeralls and even the occasional frost troll had been spotted every now and then. She had no intention of meeting any of those and while mountain lions only attacked wanderers when cornered and frost trolls were easily avoided because of their smell and noise, apparently ogres were a different story. Despite being almost as tall as giants, they were easily missed due to their greyish skin blending perfectly with the rocks of the Jeralls.

No, she had absolutely no intention of suddenly standing face to face with the giant, brutal cousin of that spear-wielding goblin she owed her latest ornament to. Absent-mindedly she rubbed her shoulder where the scar began itching once more like it wanted to mock her. Trying to catch her breath, Muriel leaned against a tree and tried to think it away. Armion's spell had healed the wound well enough, she had to give him that, but he obviously wasn't specialized in these sort of spells. Not that she would ever dare to complain, and time would surely make the tissue damage less bothersome, but from time to time she still felt like a sow a butcher had tried to stitch back together. No wonder she had passed out.

Muriel sighed deeply and suddenly spotted something through the trees. Against the darker rocks of the mountain was a broken pillar of paler stone and she immediately recognized its familiarity. That wasn't Cloud Ruler Temple, even if she wouldn't have known that she was too far west anyway. It was the same architecture she had seen down in the valley. There it had been surrounded by a bright green birch forest and though somehow in harmony, had stood out far more.

Leaving the itching battle scar alone for now, she pushed her body from the tree trunk and carefully walked closer to the Ayleid structure. The prickle was now not just at her neck. It expanded over her scalp and down her spine and left her with a sense of danger, of something seriously vicious she hadn't felt in a long time.

Listening into the silence, she peeked around the pillar. Nothing moved but the wind, picking up tiny, icy particles from the frozen ground further up and throwing it against her cheeks. Her eyes began to water, but through the tears, not far above her, she saw another pair of pillars. Their tops were slightly bend, then broken, like they had once been connected to an arch and around the corner and even further up, Muriel spotted another one. The stones, now weathered to a light grey, had once probably been as white as the snow surrounding them.

She moved further up the mountain, half-crouching and every sense focused on potential threats in the blinding white. A dull pounding filled her head and a strange revulsion her heart and both felt strangely out of place. She followed the trail until the last arch opened onto a small plateau surrounded by cliffs shielding it from the harsh weather up here.

A soft sound of surprise escaped Muriel's lips, just like the last time she had stood before Ayleid ruins. She had to tilt her head back to see the top of the ancient building that was surprisingly complete despite being at the mercy of the Jeralls' cruel winds for centuries.

The ruin was taller than the last one she had seen, but not as widespread. Slowly she stepped through one of the archways and into the circular structure. Never had she seen anything alike. There were openings at all sides and the segmental arches provided a breathtaking 360 degree view. It wasn't hard to imagine what it had looked like in its prime, all those centuries ago. The architecture was just as elegant as Anga's, but while down in the green forest it had felt more like a mere settlement, this was different. The structure reminded her of a shrine even though there was neither altar nor religious signs anywhere. Maybe they hadn't survived the passing of time just like their builders.

Muriel turned her gaze towards the mountainside and gasped as a wave of pure hate raced through her heart. It forced her to her knees like a punch to the stomach and only half-aware of what she was doing, her right hand searched for the hilt of her sword. Her vision blurred as her other hand clawed into the snow and dirt until her fingernails scratched on stone and all she could do was trying to breath away the sudden nausea. Her fingertips found Dawnbreaker at her hip and like it could help her in any way, clenched around the glowing sword helplessly.

The hilt vibrated beneath them in a way she had only ever felt once in her life. It had done the same, the day it had been given to her. The day the sword had found her, because not for a second would she assume that she had been the one laying claim on the ancient weapon.

No!

The angry howl inside her head didn't seem to be her own and Muriel gasped for air as hatred that didn't seem to belong to this world filled her head. In her palm the sword seemed to hum, almost like a living creature.

"Get out of my head!", she shouted into the wind, her vision clouded despite the bright sunlight.

My temple has been defiled!

"I don't care!"

Those who wield the mighty Dawnbreaker in my name, who accept the gift of my light so willingly... you will obey my command, mortal!

Her heart was hammering in her throat as she fought herself back to her feet. "I am not yours to command, Meridia! You don't own me!"

The imperious voice inside her head fell silent for a whole minute. For a fleeting moment, Muriel wondered if it had gone for good. Maybe she was going crazy. At least she knew that she had never ever agreed to anything when she had taken the sword. Unfortunately she also knew that Daedra rarely did as they were asked.

Though I can't lay claim to you, little mortal, you spread my cleansing light over these lands with each stroke of the weapon I gave you. And did it not serve you well? A short pause, then the voice returned with sickening complacency. Remember that it can just as easily be take from you.

Muriel's fingers closed tighter around the hilt. The delicately wrapped leather strips were smooth to the touch and she remembered the first time she had held it like it'd been yesterday. Light like no other sword she had ever used before and perfectly balanced in each of its strokes. It had sung to her, purred to her touch like a living creature too long without any. It had belonged to her the second she had first carried it at her hip, since she had struck down the first enemy with its blade. It had killed Alduin and Muriel was sure the Prince took some pride in that as well, but it had been her arm that had held it. Dawnbreaker was hers.

Don't do it.

Her own thoughts were back, but they were dull and almost muted. Meridia was still there, still watching her closely, still parasiting in some part of her mind. By what means, Muriel didn't want to think about. She shuddered. Was it bad that by now she could tell the difference? That the foreign iron taste at the back of her tongue was something she would never again forget and that the strange feeling of sizzling air was all too familiar after that many encounters with the creatures of Oblivion?

"What do you want?" Muriel ignored the foul feeling that always seem to settle in her stomach when dealing with daedric forces.

Purge my temple. Too long it has been tainted, too long since a champion came even near it. Too long have I been insulted. Restore its purity and Dawnbreaker remains yours, mortal.

Bile filled her tongue and she had to spit out into the snow. For a few seconds she stared at the bright red blotch. She could not remember biting her tongue. Bright dots began to dance in front of her eyes.

"Why don't you just do it yourself?"

The punishing answer came as another wave of anger. The feeling wasn't hers and yet it crawled over her skin, filled her heart and mind, sent wave after wave of nausea until she was heaving over the snow, helplessly bent over. Although Molag Bal had reserved the title of Daedric Prince of domination, Meridia was still very touchy individual.

"Fine!", Muriel somehow managed to choke out. "Alright, I'll do it! Now... leave me alone!"

For the split of the second she could feel the Daedra's contentment like a deeply satisfied purr inside her brain. Then it was gone.

It took the anger with it, for now, and she sunk to her knees, almost tumbling over and barely missing the stained snow.

Fine. Shit.

At least her thoughts seemed to be her own again and taking a deep breath, Muriel reached for her waterskin. Swishing the small sip in her mouth, she glared at the heavy entry before spitting out the water to rid herself of the bad taste lingering on her tongue. She had no idea what awaited her behind those doors. She didn't even know how far those Ayleid ruins stretched since Armion had made her abort last time's exploration.

He's going to hate this...

The chances of this being just a short delay were small, but she clung to them nonetheless. Not for the Thalmor's sake, gods no, but mostly for her own. She wasn't prepared for anything longer than a few hours. Her provisions were slim, at least too slim to last her more than two meals.

With a sigh she grabbed fistsful of clean snow and began cramming the waterskin as much as possible. This was unbelievably foolish, but backing out of something like this after agreeing... Muriel shuddered. Daedra were ungenerous creatures and viciously vengeful. She didn't want to imagine the consequences and silently cursed herself. There were other good swords out there and she could get used to any of them. She could even let one be forged for her, custom-made and sublime.

Slowly she unsheathed the weapon and weighed it in her hand. Somehow she doubted that the Daedric Prince of Life and Energy would settle for taking Dawnbreaker away if she'd backed out. But maybe... maybe it was about time she started thinking about leaving the blade on a weapon rack from now on. There it could still serve her as what it should be – an artifact. And a memory.