Drumroll (I)

In the early hours of the morning, before the sun had risen, a trio of small boats floated up the river Yorgrim.

They had no sails. Such would have made them far too visible. Each boat had four figures (two on either side) rowing, with one at the front acting as lookout. Five humanoids and some crates of supplies were about all these boats could hold; they were essentially repurposed escape craft, and the larger ship that had taken them through the Sea of Ghosts had already sailed away.

They landed on the beach, some miles west of Windhelm. The crew wasted no time getting out, dragging the boats further up the beach, taking out their cargo, and loading it into sturdy rucksacks that were then shouldered. All was done with utmost subtlety; carefully wrapped sheathes meant no metal blades clattered together, and the voices never rose above mutters in each other's ears.

Camouflaged tarpaulins were pulled over the boats, and some bracken from nearby was dragged over to further disguise them.

All that done, they made ready to—

"OI!"

All fifteen figures tensed at the voice, accompanied by the barking of an animal.

There was a man walking up the beach. A farmer, by the looks of him.

"You all alright there?" He called. "Ymir here caught your scent! I was wondering…oh." He finally got close enough to see the first few of them properly. Torchlight glinted off chitinous armour and goggles.

"…Aye, well." The farmer gulped. "You look like you know what you're doing, so—"

One of the fifteen nodded, and a group of them sprinted forwards.

The farmer didn't get to scream before a throwing knife buried itself in his throat, and the dog only managed a piteous whine as a sword was planted firmly in it's flank, its mouth clamped shut by gloved hands as it died.

One of them caught the torch before it even hit the floor, and tossed it into the river. Quickly and efficiently, the bodies of the man and his dog were weighed down with rocks before being hurled in as well.

There was some grumbling about the murder of someone who wasn't a target. Not much, though.

With no further distractions, the group shouldered their bags, checked their gear, and started moving at a brisk hike deeper into the country.

̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶̶ ̶{o

Cassia Meteuse was fond of the phrase "I was born ready!" to psych herself up before big events.

Octavia Meteuse was a woman who had a plan for just about everything.

Julius Meteuse had once said "If I prepare for the unexpected, and then never expect anything, then logically I'm prepared for everything." And given that he could make himself sword-proof at a thought, that was probably his actual strategy.

Alexander Meteuse, in contrast, was not sure if he had ever been prepared for anything in his entire life. Challenges were simply ranked based on how difficult they would be to fly through by the seat of his pants, assuming that he had made the intelligent decision to put pants on in the first place (which was far from a safe assumption on the best of days).

The point of this lengthy anecdote was to set up the fact that, out of all the things Xander was Not Prepared To Do, the thing that he was perhaps The Least Prepared To Do right now was talk to his elder sister.

And yet here he was.

Morthal was the last Hold (and Hold capital) Xander had yet to visit, and it was about as awful as he'd expected. It hovered around the other dungpits (Falkreath, Winterhold and Riften) on the scales of abandonment, filth, and size. But it was unique in the fact that it was built on a literal swamp (Marsh? Whatever), so it had a certain unique level of horridness.

Xander recognised partway through that thought that he was just stalling. Sighed, and pushed open the door to Moorside Inn.

It was mid-afternoon, so too early for the evening socialisers and too late for anyone to be eating. The interior was mostly empty, meaning the trio of obviously-mages sat together in the corner stood out like a sore thumb. Even more so for the fact that they were chatting animatedly, but not a peep was actually audible.

Got to learn that privacy spell…

That changed quickly, though. The moment Xander came in, Julius' eyes flicked up to his, and then he felt the magic around him shift, giving him access to the conversation.

"Because this is so cool!" Cassia was gushing, gesticulating wildly, "I mean, you were there when we fought it, Oct, you know what that was like but I haven't actually seen what they did with it yet so—and, you're not paying attention anymore. What's—" She glanced behind herself, and her eyes widened. "Xander!"

"Hi all." He greeted, with a nervous smile—

And then Cassia crashed into him with a hug. He laughed, squeezed her back and briefly lifted her up, before letting out an "Oof!" as Julius also joined the embrace.

"Good to see you, Alex." Julius said, with that reassuring smile of his, and then—

Knock.

"Ow!" Xander glared at Cassia, who had just rapped him on the skull. "What was that for?"

"That was for jumping off a cliff and not telling me you were okay afterwards!" His younger sister retorted, with a scowl. "You literally threw yourself off the walls of Solitude and then ran off without even sending me a letter! And then you didn't invite me to the peace talks!"

"You wouldn't have wanted to be there they were really boring." Julius defended.

"They were incredibly boring." Xander admitted, wincing. "But, uh, sorry about the first thing. Didn't Oct tell you that I was…"

At which point he trailed off, and looked up to the proverbial mammoth in the longhouse.

Octavia didn't really like hugs, so her choosing not to join this one wasn't uncommon. But the way she was staring at him was quite intense and more than a little intimidating.

"…Hi, Octavia!" He squeaked. "Uh…crazy weather we're having, isn't it?"

"More bearable here than in Winterhold, I assume." She said, tilting her head. "I did let Cassia know that you were okay. Last my men saw, at least, given I was unconscious."

"Ehe, well, you know." Xander scuffed one of his feet on the floor. "How's…the Penitus Oculatus?"

"Experiencing a significant manpower shortage and in for review by the Elder Council for dereliction of duty." Octavia answered, flatly. "I'm pulling in all my favours and every regulatory trick in the book just to stay here for this."

"Riiight…" Xander sucked in a breath of air through his teeth, just get it over with— "Octavia, I'm. Really, really sorry. About, you know—"

"Nah, it's fine." Octavia shrugged. "What's a dead Emperor between siblings, right?"

"Oct." Julius warned.

There was a long pause, and Xander didn't think his heart beat once in the duration.

Then Octavia sighed, and put a hand to her temple. "Sorry. That was unhelpful, I shouldn't be passive aggressive, you deserve honesty at least, I…" She looked up at him, meeting his eyes.

"Look, Xander, I'm…absolutely bloody furious. Still. It's, simmered down a bit since the event, but I'm not…I shouldn't be mad at you. I'm angry at myself. I let my Emperor down, I let my men down. And you spent the entire time trying to de-escalate while I was trying to literally put you unconscious. You were in the right, and if I hadn't been so stressed and contentious the Emperor would still be alive."

Xander's fists clenched at his sides as his stomach twisted itself into knots.

I can't tell her. He realised, dully. If she ever finds out…I don't know what will happen.

"I should have told you." He said. Not because he was sure he meant it, but because it was the right thing to say. "Should have given you everything I knew right away, and then—"

"And then maybe he'd have died and maybe he'd have lived. We don't know." Octavia shrugged. She stepped closer. "Xander…I did mean it."

"Mean what?" He asked. She wasn't taller than him anymore, he noticed. She'd always seemed to loom, but now he was meeting her gaze evenly.

"We're siblings. That comes first." Octavia put a hand on his shoulder. "I'm pissed, and I'm working through that, and that might take me a while. But I love you. You know that, right?"

"Yeah." He said, meaning it. "I know. I love you too."

She smiled. "Alright then. You have ten seconds, make the most of them."

He stepped forwards and hugged her, and tried not to feel like the scum of the earth. It helped when Cassia and Julius both also joined in, putting Octavia at the centre of a three-way embrace.

"That poor bartender is going to be so confused." Julius muttered, making Cassia snort.

Then ten seconds passed, and they separated.

"So." Xander said, coughing and hoping to change the subject. "Dragons."

"Dragons." Cassia agreed.

"Dragons." Octavia nodded, and

"Dragons." Julius clapped his hands together. "Cass, you helped Solitude put it away. You know where it is?"

"There's no way you haven't found out where they put it." Octavia interceded, giving him a look.

"Well maybe I just wanted to give her a chance to take us treasure hunting." Julius pointed out.

"Yes, I know where it is." Cassia said, rolling her eyes. "Shall we go bring it up, then get started on how we're actually going to resurrect the thing?"

"We're not trying to resurrect it." Xander warned, "Why does everyone keep thinking that—"

"Well no, but it would be a good first step?"

"It would be the worst first step!"

"Relax, you have me now, I can kill it."

"Shut it, Julius."

There was a smattering of laughter. Xander joined in, feeling some of his tension fade.

Sod whatever else was going on; the Meteuse siblings were back together. Skyrim was not ready.

o ̶ ̶̶| ̶ ̶̶ ̶ ̶̶ ̶ ̶̶ ̶ ̶̶ ̶ ̶̶

Lydia walked through the streets of Whiterun with a little more haste than befit someone of her position. Being personal Housecarl to the city's only Thane gave her privileges, but it also came with some expectations as to how she should conduct herself.

If she needed to get somewhere fast, nobody would judge her for running or even taking a horse through the city streets, since she was obviously off doing something important. But if not, she was supposed to keep her stride measured and confident, back straight. Look good. She wasn't supposed to scamper along at barely under a jog like a child rushing to go play with their friends.

She couldn't help it though. The Dragonborn was back in town.

Commander Caius had come into Dragonsreach minutes ago saying that he'd seen the man stabling his horse, immediately prompting Lydia to rush down to meet him. Proventus had wondered aloud as she left why the Dragonborn hadn't also made it up yet, but he didn't know about DB's rituals.

Lydia spotted her target exiting the temple of Kynareth, followed immediately by one of the temple's priestesses. Lydia couldn't catch what the woman was saying, but it was something along the lines of effulgent praise, and the Dragonborn looked like he was particularly uncomfortable with the situation and trying to leave as quickly as possible.

His eyes met Lydia's and…something happened? His expression fluctuated briefly, almost looking like confusion giving way to realisation. Weird. Did he not expect to see me? Did he not recognise me? I've not done my hair differently, have I?

She almost laughed at her own mental antics (come on, woman, you're a warrior, not a blushing maiden) and stepped up to him with a smile.

"My Thane." She greeted. "It's good to have you back."

"Lydia." DB returned, after only a moment's hesitation. "It's good to be back. I was away too long for comfort."

Her eyes widened, and heat jumped to her cheeks. "Really?"

"Mm." He nodded. "Negotiations took too damn long. We should have been trapping this dragon weeks ago."

"Oh, right, of course." Lydia coughed.

He walked right past her, and she fell in with him. Now her awkward speed-walk wasn't out of eagerness, it was just needed to match his massive strides. "Is it done then?" She asked.

"Peace has been agreed." The Dragonborn nodded, making his way past the Gildergreen. "Balgruuf will be here soon. We'll begin preparations on trapping the Dragon immediately."

"You have a plan to bring one, then?"

"Yes."

"Riight…" Lydia bit her lip. It doesn't mean anything. He's just distracted. This is a big weight on his shoulders, after all.

Still…she couldn't help but be bothered by his curtness. There was the niggling voice in her mind that said the reason he wasn't sharing his plans was, not because he didn't have the time, but because he couldn't be bothered to tell her.

She'd been overwhelmed, when Balgruuf had first offered her the position as the Dragonborn's Housecarl. It had been a momentous day for her, years of building up her skills and reputation as one of the Jarl's soldiers leading to such an enormous responsibility. And it had been great! She'd been travelling, fighting, making friends with the stoic demigod, making a difference.

And…then it had stopped, even more abruptly than it had started.

Speaking of things stopping abruptly, the Dragonborn did just that, and she almost crashed into the back of him.

"My Thane?" She asked, confused. They were on the steps leading up to Dragonsreach, and he was staring back down at the city.

"Why do I do it…" He mused.

"Do what?" Lydia asked, following his gaze.

"Every time I enter Whiterun, I check in with Adrianna Avenicci, sell the arms and armour I don't need." The Dragonborn recited. "I ask Olava what the weather will be like tomorrow. I buy some food in the market. I give some of that food to the beggar Brenuin. I glare at Nazeem. I visit the temple of Kynareth and donate the healing items I've accrued that I don't use. Then I do what I actually came to do. But why do I bother?"

"Because you're a good person?" Lydia answered, slightly confused by where he was going with the statement. "The people of Whiterun love you for it."

"But it's a waste of time." He grunted, making her eyes widen. "I'm here to stop an apocalypse, for gods' sake, but there I go tarrying about with the citizens. I'm doing it right now, talking to you." He moved as though to start climbing the steps again, then sighed. "It's just…part of me can't help but feel like it's beneath me. And I know that I shouldn't think that, that it's an effect of all the Dragon in me, but I can't come up with any good reasons why it's bad besides the fact that its impolite. Why spend an hour helping one or two lives when I could spend that hour killing a dragon and save dozens? Or better preparing myself to save thousands. Is it just a habit? Or am I just weak, or stupid, or both?"

That last line finally snapped Lydia out of the mildly horrified paralysis he'd left her in. She clapped a hand on his shoulder, and firmly declared "It's not weakness, and it's not stupidity."

He looked at her intensely, which made her gulp, but she continued. "Those aren't just numbers down there, they're people. Which is something a lot of people forget if they spend so long up in Dragonsreach or the Blue Palace or wherever, but you haven't. I know you're going through a lot, and I know the idea of shopping in the marketplace might seem petty, but it makes a huge difference to the people in this city. It makes a huge difference to me."

"It won't make a difference if they all burn to death because I took too long." He countered.

"You won't. You're you." She reassured him, going for a smile. "Go too far down that rabbit hole and you get the stories of mad dictators sacrificing hundreds for 'the greater good'. You wouldn't do that."

"Wouldn't I?" The Dragonborn asked. It wasn't a challenge, it wasn't patronising, it wasn't a warning. He sounded genuinely curious.

Lydia thought back to the moment some weeks ago, when she'd watched him charge into a burning building in Kynesgrove and emerge moments later with a child in his arms.

"No." She declared. "You wouldn't."

"Hm." The Dragonborn looked away. There was a pause, and then,

"Do you know my name?" He asked.

Lydia blinked. It felt silly, in hindsight, but her mind drew a blank. Somehow they'd gotten by on 'Dragonborn' and 'Thane', and he'd never told her. "Uh, no. Sorry."

He looked pained. "Hmph. Me neither."

Then he started walking up the steps again.

̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶̶ ̶{o

The beginning of the 'Dragon Reanimation Project' (Xander had tried to get them to change the name, but it had stuck) felt strangely reminiscent of the peace talks he'd only just been a part of. A period of getting supplies delivered and set up in the middle of nowhere, then the gradual trickling in of the relevant parties. The main difference (besides the elevation) was the building atmosphere of nervous excitement.

Vulbahlok's corpse had been weighted down in the bottom of a shallow pool in the middle of Morthal's marshes. Julius raised it up with telekinesis, and Alduin's left testicle that was a horrifying sight to see. At this point it had been over a month since the Dragon had died, and with no immortality to keep it ageless or Dragonborn to strip it instantly to scales and bones, the body was…well. A month dead, and a month decayed.

The stink as it was puppeted out of the water and laid on the nearby grass was atrocious; its scales were peeling, eyes rotted away, wings shredded to nothing. The gash they'd put in its throat when they killed it (as well as its mouth and other cavities) had left excellent openings for slaughterfish and other animals to get right in and tear into its flesh, meaning the beast was basically hollow.

The grossest thing Xander had ever seen before that day was a year-old zombie mammoth someone had once brought into the Synod.

This was worse.

"If it comes back to life looking like that, I'm killing myself before it gets the chance to do it." Cassia said, frankly, as she pulled her scarf up over her face.

"We're not bringing it back!" Xander protested, "Why does everyone keep saying that?"

"You have to admit, it doesn't look good." Octavia pointed out, putting a hand over her mouth and nose as she moved closer. "Divines…are we sure there's still a soul in this thing?"

"Give it a test." Julius called, also approaching it. "You know what I mean."

Octavia clearly did, as she flicked off a basic soul trap spell with her left hand.

The black-blue magic fluttered over some of the dragon's scales, then dissipated, making Octavia step back in surprise. "Well, that is…very odd."

"Odd how?" Cassia asked.

"There are three ways a soul trap can fail." Octavia recited. "If the target is already dead, no dice. If you don't have an appropriate soul gem to link it to, failure. And if the target's simply too powerful for the spell, it also doesn't work." She tried again, blasting the dragon with a much more forceful, dual-cast spell. Again it was rebuffed, and she frowned further. "This is a case of the last option. It's like it's still alive, and resisting me."

"Depending on your definition of the word, it kind of is." Xander pointed out.

"If you try it on a skeleton the Dragonborn's already drained, you get the first result. Invalid target." Julius answered, leaning down and peering into Vulbahlok's mouth. "Not to mention, my telekinesis still slips around this thing, and that's a resistance the dead-dead Dragons don't have. There's still a soul in here, alright. And it doesn't want to come out."

"Which also explains why Alduin has to go directly to the corpses to bring them back." Xander filled in.

"Oh, cool. New question:" Cassia held up a hand. "Julius, how are you that close and not dying from the stink?"

"I'm using magic to hold a pocket of clean air around my head." He replied, smirking.

"Show-off…"

"Alright everyone! Let's get set up!"

̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶̶ ̶{o ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶̶ ̶ ̶͜͡| ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ Ϫ 8˂

In the end, they made two separate camps; one right beside the carcass for study purposes, and one in the wreckage of a shack that they found nearby. The shack had torture devices in it, which was a little concerning, but they moved those out and Julius fixed up the walls with little issue. He then hardened and flattened the ground of the island it was on, removed all the foliage, set up magical lights around the area, bridged it to all the nearby islands—

(Having an alteration master around was extraordinarily useful. If Xander had to choose between Shadowmere and a pet Julius, he wasn't sure what he'd pick.)

After that, they started initial brainstorming as their 'security' trickled in.

Dulurza was the first to show, coming down from Solitude alone. She reminded Xander that she'd promised not to die so this wasn't allowed to go too horribly wrong ("It's not going to go wrong!"), and set up a tent. She was bored within an hour.

Hjar arrived next with Margret in tow, and seemed thoroughly nonplussed by their choice of campsite. Xander asked how she knew it, she nodded at his horse, he said "ah" and left it at that.

And last was L'laarzen, arriving with a bright smile and quickly putting an end to the awkward quiet that had been hovering over the group.

The board was set. The players were present. All that was left was to start the game.

"So, what does it actually look like when four top-level mages research a new spell?" Hjar asked, sidling over to Xander as they made preparations.

He grinned back at her. "Oh, you're going to love this."

"THIS DOESN'T MAKE ANY SENSE!" Cassia's head thumped into the table.

Octavia, sat next to her, glanced over. "Matrices not working again?"

"Oh, wow, you can tell you're a genius from that deduction." Cassia glowered, first at Oct then at the parchment. "It's just…stupid. It's so stupid. I don't know what I'm doing."

"Preaching to the choir, midget." Octavia replied, glaring at the swirling purple magic between her hands. "We've been using basically the same soul trap spell for over an era now. I've gone further into its inner workings than I've ever needed to and I've made, maybe, one minor improvement. Ugh, this isn't helping."

Xander was somehow sat upside down, staring at Azura's Star. Julius was reading a treatise.

Dulurza and L'laarzen were sparring an island away.

"…So is this what magical research looks like?" Hjar asked. "Or are you all just failing really, really horribly at it?"

"Oh, no, this is part of the process." Cassia answered, stretching and groaning. "You—nnngh—have to spend a lot of time banging your head pointlessly at the problem before you can start making progress. It's the same with homework. You don't know what you're doing, and then you cry and stare at it a lot, and if you're lucky, after a bit you start to get the hang of it."

"That doesn't sound like how it's supposed to work." Hjar squinted suspiciously.

"You make progress by understanding the problem and having good ideas." Octavia backed her sister up. "That means a lot of trying to learn complicated stuff, and a lot of having really bad ideas until eventually you get a good one." She sighed. "Considering we need to come up with a spell that mimics the innate power of a demigod, I think we've got a lot of bad ideas to go."

"Which is an issue, because reports from Whiterun indicate we've got about a week before the Dragonborn traps a dragon." Added Julius, not looking up. "After that, we have no idea how long it will take him to reach Sovngarde, kill Alduin (or fail) and come back. Hours, maybe, or perhaps years. I'm not sure anyone's ever measured the relativistic effects of Sovngarde…"

"So you're not just trying to do the impossible, you're trying to do the impossible on a time limit." Hjar summarised.

"That's right."

"Wonderful." She glanced between Julius and his book. "You seem to be managing something productive though."

"Hm?" Julius blinked and looked up, then smiled. "Oh, not at all. I've been staring at the same page for the last twenty minutes, I should probably take a break to refocus."

"Hircine's shaggy black coat…"

Who're you calling 'shaggy'?

"Shut it, you." Hjar glared at her ring, then looked at Xander. "And what's he doing?"

She would have addressed the question to the man himself, except that his eyes had gone a blank, shimmering white.

"He's trying to cheat." Octavia rolled her eyes. "Because that's what he tries to do to solve every problem. Cheat."

"Hey so—"

"No."

Xander's face fell. "What?"

He was stood in the Star (or possibly Moonshadow, but it resembled the glowing hexagonal madness of his first trip into the soul gem). In front of him stood one of the most beautiful creatures he'd ever met.

Azura was a being of duality, and it showed. Her robes were cut from cloths of opposing colours (he couldn't tell if it was blue and black or white and gold), and her skin itself varied along curved contours between alabaster white and ebony. Her hair was cut short on one side, and hung low over her back on the other. One eye shone gold, one dark blue, and her voice echoed in two octaves at once. The only thing about her that wasn't split between opposites was that she was all-woman, which struck him as a little odd. Daedra can pick their form at will, why'd she only want to show me her as a woman? Weird.

Whatever the case, Azura didn't quite have the raw sex appeal of Nocturnal (perhaps because she was wearing actual clothes), but she was ethereally gorgeous, and staring at Xander with such an intensity it was like she could see through the inside of his skull. Oblivion, she probably could.

"I said no," Azura reiterated, "unless you were merely aghast at my lack of manners, in which case I shall add that it is wonderful to see you properly. I'm glad you've progressed far enough for this type of encounter."

"Uh, yeah, good to see you too." Xander, flat-footed, tried again. "Uh, you didn't even hear what I was going to ask you—"

"You wish to use my Star as a receptacle for the soul of this Dragon." Azura said, flatly. Her mouth tightened into a frown. "I will not allow it."

"Oh, come on." Xander begged. "You and I both know that this thing can hold one, it's a work of genius!"

"It is a work of divinity, and yes, it could. But that is not the obstacle." Azura crossed her arms. "Your first mission at my behest was to stop a man abusing my Star. Now you seek to take his place."

Xander spluttered. "This is completely different—"

"Is it?" Azura raised an eyebrow. "Do you recall the reason why I do not allow black souls to be trapped by my artefact?"

"We're not going to sell the Dragon to the Soul Cairn!" Xander protested.

"No, you are not. Remind me, what are you going to do once you have trapped Vulbahlok?"

"We're going to…" Xander paused. "Okay, the plan is sorta vague, but the general idea is that we're going to use it to protect us in case more Dragons attack."

"So you wish to enslave it to your will, claim its knowledge and power, and keep it for an eternity." Azura's 'you done goofed' look was the strongest Xander had seen since his mother's, yet she still managed a wry smile. "Forgive me for comparing you to Varen. Perhaps it is the Ideal Masters themselves that you are imitating?"

"Oh, that is low." Xander groused, looking away. "That's not…we're not…it wouldn't be permanent. I'd let it go eventually, and—Hey, the Dragonborn straight up eats them, doesn't that make you mad?"

"Death comes to all just as night comes for day, and as new life comes after it. Death I understand. It is love I desire, and slavery I abhor." She stepped closer, her features and voice softening. "Do not do this, Xander. I…I do not like it."

Xander grimaced, and looked away. Oh, come on, that's…that's not fair.

"We don't have a choice." He bit out.

"You are alive. You always have a choice."

"Alright rephrasing: If DB loses that fight?" Xander pointed vaguely into the distance. "We're all screwed. Unless we figure out how to do this."

"Then perhaps you need to trust in your friend." Azura offered.

"Oh cute. Trust DB." Xander crossed his arms. "See, I do. But I also trust Julius, who thinks this is a good idea, and I trust my other siblings help to bring it to fruition, and I trust my other friends who are trusting me to pull this off! 'Trust your friend' doesn't solve this problem!"

"Hm. Perhaps." Azura turned away. "Forgive me. I still struggle to understand you mortals." She glanced over her shoulder at him. "I would very much like to get to know you better, Alexander…but perhaps that should be left to another time. For your time is short, isn't it?"

Xander narrowed his eyes.

"What do you know?" He demanded.

"Pardon?" Azura blinked.

"You can see the future. That means you know how this is going to go." Xander spread his arms. "Tell me DB wins and doesn't turn evil, I'll call the experiment off."

"It is not so simple." Azura shook her head. "I cannot simply dole out knowledge of events to come."

"Oh yeah? Why not?"

"Have you ever heard of Dragonbreaks?"

Xander's eyes widened in recognition. Azura nodded with a sad look. "When forces of great magnitude rock the world's foundation, the Dragon-God Akatosh can be broken, and time itself struggles for a while to piece itself back together. Most often this occurs when the Towers of creation are activated, changed, or destroyed, such as the walking of the Numidium. But there are other possible causes."

Azura sighed, staring distastefully at something only she could see. "When the Dragonborn faces Alduin, two facets of Akatosh's being will clash. Whichever falls, it will cause a Dragonbreak, and so I cannot see the outcome. Nothing beyond that encounter is visible. It is quite aggravating, for the future to be so closed to me."

"…Bugger." Said Xander, because a bugger it was. "Okay, but, what about us? You can still see up to the break, can't you? Do we succeed? Do we actually revive Vulbahlok, because if we do I'll never hear the end of it."

"I still cannot say." Azura looked down, tightening her fists.

"What? Why now?"

"Because time stuff, Alexander! There are things that must come to be, things that can warp and change, rules to the weave of the fabric of time that you would not understand."

"Try me."

"You of all mortals may be able to piece it together one day, but no, not now. You would go insane." She shot him a look. "Why are you so insistent now? You have never cared to know your fate before."

"Because I'm not stupid!" Xander snapped. "I know what people think of me, 'haha, there goes Xander, genius but no common sense', yeah well I know what it means when a Goddess is telling me to stop doing something morally dubious! I can read context clues!"

"Then why do you not cease?" Azura demanded.

"Because people are counting on me!" Xander threw his arms wide. "So if your future sight is telling me that this goes horribly wrong, if I get possessed by the Dragon, or it flies off and stops DB getting to Sovngarde, then please don't give me vague warnings and Just Tell Me! Because if that doesn't happen, I need to do this!"

Azura stared at him. On her face was shock, anger, and above all else, curiosity.

He took and then let out a deep breath, before moving a step closer to her. "You're said to be the most compassionate out of all the Daedric Princes." He said, more calmly. "You care about people; you care about this world. If that's the case, then you need to—"

"Don't you dare try to manipulate ME, boy." Azura's voice split into a dozen fractals, and the world around them shook. "If you know me so well, then you should be well aware of my capriciousness, and the lengths I will go to if you piss me off."

Eyes wide, Xander rapidly backpedalled a few paces.

The Daedric Prince's form continued to flicker with rage for a few more seconds, before slowly calming back into its previous shape. Azura, too, breathed deeply, before giving him a sad look. "I cannot. I'm sorry, Xander, but all I can say of your future is that it still contains great danger."

"When doesn't it?" Xander replied with a wry smile. Which I'd love to take as a hint, but it could mean anything. We still have to deal with Julius' cult after this…

"I think I understand your motives. But I cannot let you use my Star."

"That's okay."

"You will continue regardless?"

"Obviously. I got other options."

"In that case…" Azura walked forwards again. Xander flinched, but didn't move as she came closer, leaned in, and—

Kissed him on the cheek?

"Good luck, conduit." She said, quietly.

Then the world around him swirled away, and he was back in the swamp.

…Still upside down.

"Ow, son of a horker, pins and needles again!" He cried, twisting around and collapsing on his back.

Dulurza was bored.

This had happened during the Dragontruce as well, but at least then she'd had Elisif around to 'entertain' her. At the very least she'd been able to focus because she'd been doing a job then. There was just…nothing to do here. She was basically on holiday until the Dragon inevitably woke up (probably five times as big or something) and they had to kill it again.

They really couldn't have had Elisif be here for this? Doesn't she have a legendary witch in her head who's an expert on bringing things back from the dead?

Oh, right, no. Because Elisif has a job. Turns out that between national disasters, she does actually have a Hold to run. Oh, Malacath, what happens when she becomes High Queen? Will they even let her sleep?

Fretting about her Jarl was worse than being bored, though, so Dulurza looked around for a distraction.

Hjar had cited a need to let the wolf out and disappeared an hour ago. The four Meteuse kids were all scattered about the area doing wizard stuff. Margret was chatting with L'laarzen, and from the few words Dulurza picked up, it was either about girly stuff or knives. Were knives also girly stuff? Either way, Dulurza wasn't particularly interested in intervening.

So, Dulurza resorted to what bored people the world over resort to: Making a nuisance of herself.

"Watcha doin', shortstack?" She asked, sitting down next to Cassia with a thump.

Cassia groaned, and her head hit the table. "Nothing…"

"Oh, wow, same." Dulurza rested her forearms on the table and looked across it. There was loads of paper. Why did the mages always need so much paper? "But aren't you supposed to be doing magic?"

"Magic is blowing stuff up. This is homework. I hate homework." Cassia growled, looking up at Dulurza with bleary eyes. "Do Orcs have to do homework? Wait, that's racist, rephrasing: Did you have homework in the tribe?"

Dulurza shrugged. "I mean, I had chores. Cut down a tree, mine an ore vein, forge however many axes by next week."

"They never made you read 'Speculations on the metaphysical properties of the soul, Volume 3'?" Cassia tried.

"I still can't read tamrielic, so no."

"Hehehe, yeah…I wish I grew up in an Orc tribe. I could go around hitting people and setting things on fire and not have to worry about this impossible horse-crap…"

"And you're a healer. We respect those. You'd do well for yourself, even though you are tiny." Dulurza pat Cassia on the shoulder.

Cassia went "wooo…" and let a small burst of flame out of one finger, before slapping her hands flat on the table again. "Hear that Octavia? Imma go be a part of Orsinium."

On an adjacent table, Octavia flipped a page without looking up. "No gallivanting around the world, you can be shackled by your ambition and live a miserable life like the rest of us." She answered. "Speaking of which, stop being distracted. Dulurza, stop distracting her."

"Bitch." Dulurza muttered, rolling her eyes.

"Something to say to me?" Octavia glanced up.

"Yeah, I called you a bitch."

"Oh. Well, that's fair." She turned another page.

Cassia sighed and sat up properly, staring at the book in front of her like it had personally offended her. "Ugh. What am I even doing…"

"Need to check your fights?" Dulurza offered.

"Pardon?"

"Short fight, mid fight, long fight." Dulurza leaned backwards and stretched, then turned to face Cassia fully. "Alright, look at me. Look at me."

"Mmhmm. Looking." Cassia squinted.

"Now, in the long term—"

"You have something in your teeth."

"What?"

"In your teeth, those front two there, there's—" Cassia gestured to her own teeth.

Dulurza frowned, licking at it. "That better?"

"No there was nothing there, I just wanted to screw with you. What were you saying?"

"Twerp." Dulurza swatted her round the side of her head, making her laugh. "Focus. Long term goal, what is it?"

"Uh." Cassia frowned. "Save the world?"

"Good, that's your long fight. So to do that, what do you have to do?"

"Trap the Dragon soul."

"And there's your mid fight. So what do you need to do to do that?"

Cassia huffed. "Read this stupid book—"

"Ah ah! Too short." Dulurza put her hands on Cassia's shoulders. "Break it down. What's stopping you trapping the soul, then how do you overcome that?"

Cassia's eyes narrowed.

"The soul trap spell isn't working." She said.

"Why's that?"

"It's not designed to work on a dragon."

"Aye but why though?"

(At this point, Octavia had put her book down, and was looking at them both.)

"Because…" Cassia crossed her arms. "Because soul trapping as we know it is designed to latch onto a soul and then snatch it when it tries to run off to the Aetherius. But the Dragon soul's not even doing that. It's not a matter of buffing the spell's power to overcome its magic resistance, we've already damn near quadrupled the spell's cap and had Oct cast it. Sent it from an apprentice level spell to a master level one, but there was still no dice."

Dulurza barely got any of that, but the context was clear. "So what do you need to do?"

"Find out what makes the soul grabbable."

"You got any leads for that?"

"The Dragonborn…" Cassia mused, standing up and starting pacing. "He doesn't even have to try; it just happens for him. And he doesn't even know magic. Well, he knows the Voice, but he didn't even have that when he started. It's something about him (and Alduin) that gets the dragon souls moving."

"Doesn't he have Dragon's blood?" Dulurza offered. "Could that be it?"

"Xander has a magic horse." Octavia pointed out. "If we take that, we might be able to get some blood from the Dragonborn before he leaves Whiterun."

"If it can be from any Dragon, I already have Dragon blood preserved?" Called Julius' voice, from an adjacent island.

"Me too, but it's not about the blood." Xander said, poking his head out from behind a tree.

"What are you doing behind there?" Dulurza asked, bewildered.

"Pissing." Xander shrugged. "Anyhow the point isn't that DB has Dragon's blood, it's that he has a Dragon's soul. Calling him a 'demigod' isn't inaccurate, he's literally part Akatosh. So's Alduin. Now, if you'll excuse me—"

He ducked back behind the tree.

"His soul was calling to the souls of the Dragons he killed!" Cassia exclaimed. "Or, something like that at least. Akatosh is the key!"

"And we can't exactly steal the Dragonborn's soul and use that, because presumably his also counts as a Dragon soul." Octavia frowned. "It's a catch-22. Need one for the other and the other for the one."

"Well no wonder your spells aren't working." Dulurza said, shrugging. "I've seen people claim to channel Akatosh's magic before, and that definitely wasn't dark purple and followed by Daedric whisperings like yours are."

Cassia stiffened. Then she turned to look at Dulurza, her eyes lighting up. "That's it." She whispered. "Dulurza, you're a genius!"

"I am?" Dulurza blinked.

"No wonder the soul trap isn't working: We're using the wrong bloody school!" Cassia rounded on Octavia. "That spell's conjuration, based on Daedric research! Alduin and the Dragonborn are using restoration magic!"

Octavia also stiffened. Then the two of them jumped into motion, shouting for their siblings and demanding access to an amulet of Akatosh.

Dulurza shrugged as the clearing devolved into chaos.

Well. That was a fun distraction for ten minutes.

Alright, everybody, place your bets: What's going to go horribly wrong?

We've got mysterious arrivals in the country, the Dragonborn being ominous, Azura throwing up more red flags than a communist airstrip. Dulurza, of course, is the real hero. If this methodology ever gets published in a scientific journal, she is absolutely going to be credited as a primary researcher (confusing the hell out of some poor Synod professors, I'm sure).

As you could probably tell by the (I) in this chapter's title, we still have another to go before the excrement hits the air freshener. Is that the most effective way to build tension in the audience? I don't know, I just had a lot to write.

Next Time: The Dragonborn prepares to ensnare a Dragon. Everyone else continues to mess around in a swamp.