When I was much younger, a child running around in the house, I would follow my father wherever he went. Mother died when I was born, and I was raised only by a humble alchemist and Temple healer that suddenly found himself alone. He was a good man. An excellent man. The Mage's Guild in Balmora celebrated him as their master alchemist, the Temple lauded him as the kindest of the healers. He was a good man.

We often walked along the canal streets of Balmora, his ashen hand in mine, and he would tell me without fail at least once every month:

"No matter what happens, do not lose your heart. Do not let anyone, not even the world, stamp out your kindness. It is too easy to let the Bad Daedra tempt your soul… fight them, fight them always."

I believed every single word he said.

He was a good man.

—

The bright light of Akatosh nearly burned through my eyes. I had to cover them for a moment with my hands and my arms, and the warmth of his presence turned this near-autumnal breeze into a scorching summer day. When I succeeded in prying my eyes out of my leather armor, eyes adjusting to the light, I saw it. The dragon flew through the sky, illuminating the entire red wind with his might and his glory. How could I ever see anything else? How could I look away? Martin had been in front of me this entire time, and when he whispered his goodbye, he turned into the avatar of Akatosh, a dragon that destroyed Dagon in but a mere moment.

I had steeled my body to the sight of Dagon when we had walked out of the Palace after meeting with the Chancellor. In my homeland, Mehrunes Dagon is considered one of the Bad Daedra, a corner of the House of Troubles that was meant to test us and push us to our limits. When my eyes fell on him, I could almost feel my father screaming from the Void, my ancestors telling me to either turn and run or face the damn thing. I wanted to kill him myself for what him and his cult took from me. They had taken everything for me.

My eyes were drying up, but I didn't want to blink. I was used to the dry breeze of my homeland, but this was something different. I wanted to record this moment in my memories. My eyes were wide, brows were arched in pain, my jaw was slacked. My hand was held over a wound that I could heal but was in too much of a stupor to even remember the basic spell. Martin, my friend Martin, was fighting Dagon. And won, if Dagon's shriek as he was ripped apart was anything to go by. The smell of fire remained. Fire, blood, and something else. Something in the ruins that was too familiar a smell for me to ignore.

Martin, my friend Martin, was gone and the only thing that remained that was his was the large statue of Akatosh, sitting proudly in the center of the Temple of the One. The dragon was permanently roaring to the sky, an effigy to remind the entirety of Tamriel that this could never happen again. Martin, my friend Martin, was just another thing the Mythic Dawn had ripped away from my life.

I stood there still. For many minutes. Maybe even hours. Maybe even days. But no, it had only been maybe half an hour. The sky was blue. The sun scorched the earth. The smoke of the invasion was trying to kiss the clouds. My wound was still bleeding. I hear the door to the Temple open, and in comes the Chancellor. He is talking, but I can barely hear him. He puts his hand on my shoulder, and my reaction is to push it off.

"Martin is gone," I mutter, my voice low. Quiet. Tired.

"What do you mean, gone? We saw the Temple dome explode, the avatar of Akatosh appear… are you saying that was Martin?" His disbelief was punctuated by his eyes, Altmer-gold skin gleaming with the sweat of today's battle. And the worry of no Emperor.

"Yes… when we arrived, Dagon shattered the dome and… Martin then crushed the Amulet…" Why was I explaining this? I felt so tired.

"The joined blood of Kings and Gods… the Amulet of Kings, the Divine Power of Akatosh."

Something in me stirred. I stared to him in the eyes, as if he had just forgotten something dire and grave. "Kings, Gods… and Martin's. Martin's blood."

"So… he is gone, then…" The realization had dawned on him. Lucky. I wish I had a moment to realize it like this.

"He is gone, the gates are sealed… and Tamriel will no more be threatened by Dagon…" I cough, and hiss when the wound stabbed me, reminding me it was there. What was that spell?

"Martin is dead, but he died like an Emperor. Like a warrior. A hero to rival Tiber Septim himself." He turned with me to look at the statue, and his smile was large. There was pride in his voice. There was pride in my own chest as well, but I hadn't the strength to continue to speak. I could feel myself fading.

"The gates are sealed now, forever," I continue, "but… what of the Empire? What will happen now?" I stared over at him and noted the twitching at the corners of his lips. The Chancellor hadn't wanted me to ask that question, and I believe I know why.

"We lost Martin, the last Septim. And while I know his sacrifice was needed, we are left with no Emperor. I… I don't know what is to happen now. There will be trouble in the horizon, trouble in the times that will now continue now that we have reached the end of the third era. But… for now, let us not worry. Let's celebrate that despite it all, we are alive!" He turns to me, his smile back in place. Ever the politician. "And this dragon will stand forever, not just to watch over Cyrodiil… but as a memorial to what you and Martin did to save all of Tamriel."

Why did that sting me more than the wound? I was about to fade, until he approached me.

"And because of what you did… in my capacity as the Lord High Chancellor of the Elder Council, I hereby proclaim you as the Champion of Cyrodiil! I will order a suit of Imperial Dragon Armor made for you, my Lady; though it is only worn by the Emperor, you deserve it more than anyone, Champion. Only six others have achieved this rank. Please, come back in two weeks' time. You will be granted a ceremony to retrieve the armor, and perhaps, should the clean-up efforts be fruitful, a festival will be held in yours and Martin's honor."

I don't know what I felt. I don't know what I even said. I couldn't have known, because after he congratulated me and awaited my answer, I collapsed and slipped into unconsciousness.

What was that spell, again?

—

And I saw my father there, sitting beside me when I turned to look at him. We sat on a pool outside of Balmora, picking the nirnroots that glowed in the dim lighting. He always liked to pick for nirnroots late into the evening, because he could always spot them quickly from their glow. I watched the way he picked and cut the plant, careful not to damage it. His hands were delicate, and even though I wanted to try, he simply shook his head and smiled to me.

"Not now, little one. Not until you can make clean cuts on the practice plants at home."

—

"There she is," I recognized that voice. The voice of an over-involved Blademaster who pretended to be a monk, "she is coming to. Ease up on her, lad." The world was dark for a moment, but pictures came into my mind when I heard the rumbling of speech, and I recognized the wooden pillars that held up the roof. I was in Cloud Ruler Temple, home of the Blades, and they were very happy to see me alive. I don't know why, but relief washed over me in a wave when my eyes met Jauffre's, though I knew in my heart of hearts that he was made aware of Martin.

I sat up on the bedroll, twitching as I stared down to my now bandaged and sutured wound. I would take care of that myself. I was surrounded by a few Blades, faces I recognize but names that escape me. I only remember Baurus the Redguard, and Jauffre the Breton. "Champion! We're so glad you're awake!"

Taya. My name is not Champion, it's Taya.

"I'm glad I'm awake too," I jest, chuckling, putting the mask on to ease their troubles. This meant that they swarmed me with questions about Martin, the final battle, the invasion at the Imperial City. I felt overwhelmed, for once, and it showed in my twitching eyebrows and lips turning into a frown.

"Now," Jauffre smiled, "let's not gush all over her. Please, leave us for a moment." The word of the Grandmaster is law, and thus they did. They excused themselves, apologizing with more formality than necessary, and left me alone with Baurus and Jauffre. Jauffre seemed wounded as well, as did Baurus, but both seemed better rested than I did. On a more even keel.

"How long was I asleep?"

"About three days," Baurus muttered in his unusually always calm voice, "you fainted in the Temple of the One after speaking to the Chancellor. He brought you out in a panic just as we were arriving to see the statue of Akatosh and to check up on you. Our healers worked what they could to make sure you wouldn't die, and we brought you here to rest. We figured you were exhausted so we didn't try to wake you. Just come in to check on you every now and again." He set his hands on his knees and leaned in, "Ocato told us about Martin… but we wanted to hear it from you."

"What an Emperor that young man might have made," Jauffre mused. "It is a shame that he's gone, but without his sacrifice, peace would not have come to Tamriel."

I nod, "indeed… what I told the Chancellor is true. Martin took the stone and shattered it, mixing the blood with his own. The avatar of Akatosh… there is no way for me to describe what I saw and do it justice. I can barely believe it myself."

"I don't doubt you. When Baurus and I saw the statue, we had to take a moment to remind ourselves of where we were. It's an impressive sight. Regardless, for what it's worth, I am glad you're alive." Silence fell upon me. If I have to hear that phrase one more time, I'm going to lose it. "Me too."

After a quiet moment, I ask, "what will you two do now?"

"I will remain here. Though I do miss Weynon Priory, I will go and visit every now and again. Being here is one of the few places that gives me a level of uncertainty in these uncertain times."

Baurus agrees, "likewise. I will remain here and continue my work as a Blade. It's times like these where I know my place would be better served here. Let the scholars and priests debate what happened in that Temple without talking to you… I'm proud to have served someone like Martin, no matter how small a time it was. So, I will stay, and continue to honor his sacrifice."

I nod. Baurus had taken the death of the Emperor very personally. I remember the day we met, my being in the prison due to an assassination attempt gone awry. He looked down upon me, saw me the same way I saw him. He was sure I was going to just be another rat following them and biting at their heels for freedom—he wasn't wrong. But I came out of curiosity and necessity. The Emperor saw something in me. He said I was the one from his dreams. Philosophical and metaphysical ramblings about how I must be the one to close the jaws of Oblivion. I hadn't realized how literal he was being.

"What about you, Taya?" Thank God. Baurus didn't call me Champion. Jauffre looked upon me in wait.

"I'm going to return to Cheydinhal and just… continue my work in the flower shop." I am a florist… well, from what they know at least. My work has been commissioned by the Counts and Countesses of all the cities in Cyrodiil, and I have done some work for people from the other provinces. They don't know the reality of who I am… and I told Jauffre and Baurus that I was in prison because someone framed me. "I respect you wanting to continue, but I'd like a break from all this adventure. Maybe even go and see if I can finish investigating the person who tried to frame me. I miss the flowers. But I promise I will come and visit."

Being an expert in alchemy, I do indeed miss my flowers.

"That is a good idea. You deserve the rest."

"Thank you, Jauffre. Hey… can I be alone for a bit? I'd like to settle my mind. Maybe even get some sleep."

"Oh, of course," Baurus stands from his chair and Jauffre begins to make his way to the door, holding it open for Baurus. "We will let you be. Please, come to us if you need anything."

"I will. Thank you. Goodbye." I grin and wave as I watch them leave. I look at my ashen hand, the hand of a Dunmer, and once I was alone, I leaned down and onto the bed.

And I covered my face, screaming into my hands.

—

The Blades should really update their spy network on how to effectively use stealth. Sneaking around them in Cloud Ruler Temple was far too easy.

I'm about to take my leave. I will not tell Jauffre or Baurus, or Cyrus or Jena. I will just take my things and leave. I woke up in my own room, and though I am wounded, I barely felt it as I draped my dress over my body. The black and crimson detailing was taut against my body, and I felt myself become a different person as I weaved my fingers through my hair. I looked as I did before all of this. Before the Emperor, before Kvatch, before Martin, before Dagon, before the Champion. Even my lipstick, a year old, felt new and fresh on my lips.

This did not stop me from sneaking. I was going to leave without saying anything, disappear like a phantom in the night. But I had to make a stop first. I had to say goodbye to at least one room. The guard had walked past, ready to change his shift with another one of his friends. I open the door and lean on the wall.

Martin's bed lay empty for the first time in nearly two weeks. His gems lie on the nightstand, the clothes he wore before leaving were folded neatly and left untouched. The potions on his desk, the ink with no disturbance and the scroll that hadn't been written on. I clench my jaw.

I sip the brandy and pass him a bottle, chuckling. "You'll be fine, Martin. I know you have a lot on your plate right now, but it'll all be fine. You'll see." Even drunk, I can hear how giggly I sound. Martin, slightly red faced and with drooping eyes, finally smiled as he swigged back the brandy, "perhaps I will. Maybe when I sit on the emperor's throne, I will have them fashion one for you. You are my friend; you deserve the share."

"I deserve nothing, Martin," I lean on the wall, shaking my head, "when all this is over, let's meet for a lunch. So, we can relax and breathe… and experience what life was like before all of this."

It took him a moment, his eyes staring off into the mirror that rested before his bed. "I would like that. I would like that a lot."

I set down a peony flower on his bed. A white peony that seemed all too comfortable blending in with its surroundings. I open the window, and begin to crawl out of it, ready to scale down the mountain and go back home.

I'm sorry we can't have that lunch anymore.