The Long Fight

̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶̶ ̶{o ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶̶ ̶ ̶͜͡| ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ Ϫ 8˂

"So." Hjar stood, leaning with her elbows on the table. "What does Julius want?"

"Long fight first." Dulurza advised.

"He wants to fundamentally change the state of the world and revert it to a primordial soup," Xander answered, "which sounds absurd every time it comes out of my mouth…"

"And how's he get that?" Dulurza asked.

"Destroying all the Towers."

"And how's he do that?"

"Well…" Xander jumped out of his seat, snatching up some paper and chalk and coming back. "Eight Towers, we think. Each Tower has a 'heart', and destroying the heart breaks the Tower."

"And he has to get all eight?" L'laarzen asked. "Quite the long list of challenges. No wonder he wanted a Dragon's soul."

"Hahah! No. I looked into it and most are already broken." Xander sketched a very rough map of Tamriel, drawing 'X's in the appropriate spots. "Orichalc Tower fell when the continent of Yokuda sank in the first Era. Brass Tower got warped out of existence, mid third era. Red Tower's heart was the Heart of Lorkhan, that was also destroyed mid-third Era. Crystal Tower lost its heart during the Oblivion crisis, White-Gold Tower's heart was the Amulet of Kings and that went bye in the Oblivion crisis as well. Green-Sap Tower used to walk around, but now its rooted itself, and we don't know if that means its broke or not."

He circled the Xs in Skyrim and High Rock. "That leaves us with the Adamantine Tower in the Iliac bay, which was the first one ever…and the Snow Tower. The Throat of the World."

"You're telling me six of the eight pillars holding up the world are broken?" Hjar raised an eyebrow. "Don't you think we'd notice?"

"Okay I get you, but, counterpoint." Xander raised a finger. "Look at the last two eras of Tamriel's history, and tell me the world isn't falling apart."

"…Fair point."

Dulurza squinted at the map. "So, High Rock and Skyrim. Which will he go for?"

"Skyrim first." Hjar decided. "It only makes sense. High Rock would be easy, there's no civil war there to get in his way, and he's already here."

"There's no Dragonborn in High Rock." L'laarzen added. "By now, our friendly neighbourhood demigod will be out of Mundus. Mister Julius has one shot to destroy the Snow Tower before the Dragonborn returns. Then he can race to the Iliac Bay."

"So how does he destroy it?" Dulurza asked. "What's the heart?"

"That's the rub. I don't know." Xander twirled the chalk between his fingers. "The damn northern hicks haven't documented their legends properly, there's a dozen different speculations. One Jarl Kirkbride called it a cave?"

"Blackreach?" L'laarzen offered. "There are many great caves beneath Skyrim, and the Aetherium there is valuable."

"Sure, but couldn't Julius have dealt with that ages ago?" Dulurza offered. "He's gotta know what it is, and I doubt bringing some caves down is hard for him."

"Plus it's probably something more spiritual than that." Xander pointed out. "The prophesy of the Dragonborn states that all this nonsense would start when, quote, 'the Snow Tower lies sundered, kingless, bleeding'. If its heart is the spiritual heart of Skyrim's people, it might already be destroyed."

"Khajiit does not think Julius would have focused so much on Skyrim if that were the case." L'laarzen frowned. "Still, perhaps we should tell our spies to watch traffic heading out to High Rock…"

"Okay, everyone stop." Hjar raised a hand. "We shouldn't start by proposing solutions, it'll just make us get attached and start fighting over them. Discuss the problem first. What do we know about the heart?"

They started writing down notes, possibilities, snippets of lore, sources, assumptions from Julius' actions.

(certain authors would introduce a break here, to give the readers an opportunity to try and figure this out for themselves. This may be entertaining to attempt, but is not necessary for the enjoyment of the fic, as Xander is about to say the answer anyway.)

Partway through, Alexander went very still.

"Xander?" Dulurza was the first to notice. "Buddy? You good?"

"No…" Xander whispered, his tone incredulous rather than depressed. "Oh, no way…"

"You got something?" Hjar tilted her head.

"It's still alive. It's important to Skyrim's culture. It's attached to High Hrothgar and has stayed there for millennia, since the mountain was first formed. Most tellingly: It's something that Julius was only confident he could destroy after we worked out how to trap a Dragon's soul."

Xander looked up at them all. The idea was crazy, but…it was the only thing that fit.

"It's Paarthurnax. The heart of the Snow Tower is Paarthurnax."

Hjar, L'laarzen, and Dulurza looked at each other. Then as one said "Who?"

"Paarthurnax…" Elenwen mused. "So, the Nords have been hiding a Dragon up there this entire time."

She sat behind her desk in the Thalmor Embassy, a smirk playing about her lips. The Left Eye of the Falmer twirled between her fingers, suspended in her telekinesis.

"They have." Julius nodded, standing before the desk and keeping a very close eye on the gem. Elenwen had asked to see the filled Right Eye, but he'd refused, stating that undoing the protections on it would take too long. That was a lie, but still, he wasn't letting her anywhere near it.

"And you're certain it's the heart of the Snow Tower?" She glanced up at him.

"As certain as I can be," he said, "there's nothing else that fits. I'd exhausted all other possible leads before I learned about Paarthurnax at the Dragontruce."

"Ah, yes, I assumed it was that." Elenwen chuckled, lightly. "I suppose it's a good thing I left, otherwise those foolish Men would have been far too tight-lipped." Her expression soured. "I truly thought after our conversation that your brother would join us. A shame he chose the wrong side."

Julius didn't wince, but it was a close thing. "It was a gut reaction, based on my poor explanation. Alex will come around."

One of Elenwen's eyebrows rose. "He fought you. He stole a Dragon Soul."

Julius couldn't quite stop a small wince at that. "It was replaced easily enough, and we could only take one up the mountain. I'll send a bird to him. Trust me, he'll be with us when we move on High Rock."

"Hmph. Well, I suppose it doesn't really matter what he does. This will all be over soon." Elenwen let the crystal drop into her palm, hefting it up and down. "Such a beautiful thing…poetic, no? That the Mer of times past created these devices, with which we will bring about their ultimate victory. You're sure this can trap a Dragon soul?"

"We're two for two."

"And that will count as deactivating the Tower?"

"There's no good way to be sure." Julius shrugged. "If the world doesn't fall apart after we've razed the Adamantine Tower, we can always toss the gem into Oblivion."

"Excellent." Elenwen tossed the crystal casually towards him, and he caught it with his telekinesis. "So, we use the power of one Dragon to kill another, and trap its soul in the second crystal."

"That's the plan." Julius nodded. "I'll be the one wielding the Dragon Gem, then Octavia if I'm indisposed."

"Smart, smart, but…" Elenwen drummed her fingers on her desk. "As leader of our operations in Skyrim, I would quite like personal responsibility over the gem."

Julius stiffened. "You're coming? It will be dangerous."

"That's why I'm bringing a small army of Thalmor warriors to support us, and why you're bringing all those mercenaries of yours. I have no idea why you're relying on them…"

"Diversification." Julius left his answer at that, mind suddenly very busy. Elenwen was his superior. If she wanted the Gem, and he said no, she could put him in a whole lot of trouble. And while he could do this himself, gaining the Thalmor's ire at this juncture would be a terrible play.

But there was no way in Oblivion he was putting the power of a Dragon in her hands.

"I wouldn't advise it." He warned. "Drawing power from the gem is both difficult and exceedingly painful."

"I am not afraid of pain, Julius." She wagged a finger at him. "And recall that I am an Elven mage of the highest calibre. I suspect I shall manage."

Crap. Shouldn't have insulted her pride. Changing tactic—

He produced a good-natured chuckle. "I never meant to decry your ability. But once it comes to battle with Paarthurnax, whoever wields the gem will be in the most danger. Not to mention, I've been practising with it ever since I filled it, and I'm only just learning to harness its frankly absurd power."

A lie (it was more difficult not to bring out massive power when accessing the gem), but one Elenwen couldn't disprove. She still didn't look convinced, but then Julius had an idea.

"There is a responsibility I suspect you would prefer, however." He said, floating the empty gem closer to her. "Once Paarthurnax is defeated, someone will have to trap its soul and transfer it to the second gem. Perhaps that should be you? I'm sure someone of your skill could learn the spell in no time."

Elenwen's eyes lit up. Bingo. "Oh? Perhaps you are right. What does it feel like, Julius, to consume the soul of a Dragon?"

"Invigorating." He answered. "Awe-inspiring. Painful."

"Hah! Then I look forwards to experiencing it." Her eyes took on a wistful look. "It's a funny thing, isn't it? We must experience as many of these earthly sensations as we can. After all, it won't be much longer before Mundus is gone for good."

Gods, Alex is right. We do sound evil. "Only if we pull this off." Julius said. "I'll send you the notes, but it will probably be best for me or Octavia to tutor you personally."

"Do whatever you feel is best." Elenwen waved a hand and he turned to go. He was stopped, however, when she called out to him with:

"This is what the Dragonborn does, isn't it? Absorbing souls?"

"It is…" Julius replied, turning with a raised eyebrow.

"But he doesn't need the Eyes of the Falmer. Would it be possible to store the Souls inside a living thing?"

Julius went very still. "We determined that it was unfeasible to—"

"But not impossible?" Elenwen pressed.

"…No." He said. "Not impossible. But for those of us who aren't Akatosh-blessed to do so, it would be incredibly dangerous. We have no idea whatsoever what might happen."

"Hm. Another shame." Elenwen leaned back in her seat. "To mantle the soul of an immortal…that is something I would very much like to experience before the end."

̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶̶ ̶{o ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶̶ ̶ ̶͜͡| ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ Ϫ 8˂

"So there's a Dragon—the second most powerful dragon of all time—sitting on top of Snow Throat." Dulurza said, giving Xander a look that said 'I wouldn't normally believe you but too much of the insane stuff you've said has turned out to be true'. "Does DB know?"

"Oh he knows, Paarthurnax is sort of his teacher." Xander ran a hand through his hair. "Son of a…that's why Julius was trying to get DB to kill him! Divines, if I wasn't so suckered by the idea of a friendly Dragon, I might have agreed!"

"So we know what he wants." Hjar leant over the map on the table, staring at the depiction of the Throat of the World. "It would take him about two days to travel to the mountain, less if he had a horse, but we need to factor in the time it would take him to find and absorb another Dragon Soul. Or, do you think he could kill Paarthurnax without it?"

Xander thought about it. "My gut says yes, but I don't think he'd want to risk it."

L'laarzen raised a hand. "He has no reason to risk anything. If what you say is true, Julius no longer needs to care about the consequences of his actions, no? Why bring just the gem?"

"The Dragontruce gives him perfect cover to gather a force at the base of the mountain without being stopped." Hjar realised. "And it doesn't matter if he reignites the war by doing it. He plans to end the world in a matter of weeks."

Dulurza groaned. "He's got a Thalmor army, doesn't he?"

"Not even the Thalmor could move an entire army through Skyrim without being caught." Hjar reasoned. "But if Xander's right that they're at Julius' command, there's no reason he couldn't ready a crack squad. Most likely twenty-odd, worst case a hundred soldiers."

There was a pause.

"Uh-oh."

"Bugger."

"Tits."

"Dulurza!"

"Can we do that?" Xander asked. "We got friends, right?"

"We can send birds, but…" Hjar started mouthing to herself, looking around the map. "…Hmph. Trust me, moving soldiers is difficult. We've wasted, what, a day just pulling ourselves together? Julius probably gave the Thalmor the go-ahead the moment we vanished, if not before. We've only got one Shadowmere. Aye, we have allies in Markarth, Riften, and Solitude. But by the time we contact them, they organise themselves and start travelling, Julius will have already won."

"So what can we do?" L'laarzen said. "You are the best strategist, Hjarnagredda. What's the worst case scenario, and how do we stop it?"

"Worst case scenario is Julius took a horse straight to the mountain, picked up a Dragon Soul from a carcass he pre-stashed along the way, got up there, and killed Paarthurnax an hour ago." Hjar deadpanned. "Using the more reasonable scenario that he's cautious, and more afraid of the Dragon than he is of us—"

"He definitely is." Xander interrupted.

"Then…we can probably make it." Hjar looked up. "We push as fast as we can, swap to fresh horses in Windhelm, we can get to Ivarstead in maybe twelve hours. One of us can be faster with the ghost horse. Add to that another six hours total to prepare now and rest when we get there…I think that's enough time."

"Think?" Dulurza tilted her head.

"There's no way to be sure about any of this. I just don't think we can manage or afford to do it any faster."

"So we'll be fighting a small army, a Dragon Soul, Xander's terrifying big brother, and his almost as terrifying sisters…with four disasters." Dulurza summarised. "Guys, even for me…"

"Make that seven disasters!" Called a voice from the doorway. The four of them turned to see Margret, Mirabelle, and Aranea walking into the room.

"You really thought we were going to let you do something this stupid without us?" Mirabelle asked, one hand on her hip.

"There are…so many terrifying women in my life..." Xander said, largely to himself, before adding "Aranea, you can fight?"

"Champion, I waited at my lady's shrine for decades." She replied, raising an eyebrow. "What do you think I did with my time?"

"Prayed?" Dulurza offered.

"Okay yes, but I am also very good at magic."

"Huh. Nice." Xander shrugged. "And the Dark Brotherhood—Sorry, ordinary mercenaries—will help if I pay them. That gives us…eleven?"

"Perhaps twelve." L'laarzen said. "Two can fit on Shadowmere. If you allow L'laarzen to go ahead to Riften, she can bring Karliah back."

Xander tilted his head at her. "You're not bringing the boss man with the funny accent?"

"Brynjolf is…nice, but…"

"Ah, right."

"So that's a dozen fighters, the Greybeards, and a Dragon, versus…all that." Hjar nodded, slowly. "It's better, but still not ideal. Xander, you were saying earlier that you thought Julius could take us all alone, no powerup needed. That still true?"

Xander sighed, heavily. Straightened. "Yes. But he won't get the chance. I'll deal with Julius myself."

There was a silence, which was completely ruined by Dulurza going "Ooooh!"

He rolled his eyes at her. "I'll try and get letters to Cass and Oct, too. When we talked, he said he hadn't trusted them with the truth of what he was doing. If that's still true, it might be a way to turn them on him. And I'll need to make use of those three hours of prep time; there's one last thing I can do to increase our odds."

"What is it?" Everyone who knew him well immediately asked.

"I'm not going to tell you, because it's crazy, and if I do you'll try and stop me doing it." He answered, flatly. "Get your letters ready to send. But uh, I'm also going to need all your stuff."

"As always, we completely ignore whatever the crazy wizard's doing." Hjar rolled her eyes. "Alright everyone, get ready. We leave at noon. Any other insane ideas? Because if I've gotta save the world I've gotta save the world, but I'd rather this not just end with a nigh-impossible fight on a mountaintop."

"Khajiit has one." L'laarzen said, all eyes turning to her. "It is risky, but, so is everything else on offer."

"Hit us." Hjar said.

"We anticipate Julius will pursue Paarthurnax with one full and one empty Eye of the Falmer, yes? One very helpful to fight the Dragon, the other essential to capture it." L'laarzen smiled a very dangerous smile. "It would be such a shame if one or both were to go missing."

̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶̶ ̶{o

"What are you doing?" Mirabelle asked, walking into the Archmage's quarters.

"Uh…what do you mean?" Xander asked, looking up from a sack that was almost as big as he was.

"Xander, when you said you were going to do something crazy, I was concerned it was to do with the Daedra that wanted into your head." Mirabelle walked over to see the sack he was looking at, and gulped to see it absolutely full of soul gems. "But then you went and confiscated literally all the enchanting and alchemy supplies in the College, four full cooked meals, and then most of the armour and weapons of your allies. I was concerned. Now I am afraid."

"Very sensible response, that." Xander put the sack down, standing back and stretching. "I told you I got kicked out of the Synod, right?"

"Yes. And some of the hijinks that caused it."

"Hehe, yeah. And while the utter chaos I caused (and my lack of any reasonable magicka reserves) were the drumroll leading up to my expulsion, this idea was the straw that broke the minotaur's back."

"This is worse than causing the headmaster to have a breakdown in assembly because you pressed him into admitting the school was corrupt?" Mirabelle asked, a bead of sweat trickling down her brow.

"This would have been worse than that, yes, but they stopped me before I could do it." Xander paused, face scrunching up. "So…hear me out."

"Oh no."

"You've heard of the 'fortify alchemy' enchantment, right?"

"Yes. It's an enchantment that improves the potions you make." Mirabelle frowned, because this didn't sound too bad. "I think Sergius said it improves your dexterity, perception, memory, timing, magical connection…a dozen buffs in a dozen subtle ways to make you better at alchemy."

"Basically, yeah. And you've heard of the 'fortify enchanting' potion too?"

"I…have. Similar thing but for enchanting." Mirabelle tilted her head. "I assumed, since you were proficient with both skills, you'd be using each whenever you did them. Very useful intersection."

"Oh I do, but that's not what this is." Xander laced his fingers together. "If you were wearing a ring of fortify alchemy, it would allow you to make a better potion of fortify enchanting, right?"

"I…suppose so…"

Xander was grinning. "Which, in turn, would allow you to make an even better ring of fortify alchemy, right? And so on, and so forth?"

Mirabelle went very, very cold. "Xander, no."

"Xander yes."

"But that's insane!"

"Isn't it?"

"But—the stress on your body from repeatedly consuming stronger and stronger potions! The diminishing returns on the ingredients! The increasing risk of stronger and stronger enchantments exploding in your face!"

Xander was laughing. He was—He was laughing. "Oh, I'm not expecting to actually make a sword that can cut a mountain in half—"

"GOOD!"

"—But it should certainly let me make some things way beyond what I'm normally capable of. I've got enough grand souls here to put some pretty insane double-enchantments on the equipment of our major combatants."

"By consuming over ten thousand septims worth of materials…" Mirabelle shook her head. "Xander. Is it safe?"

He recognised her tone, his face becoming more serious. "I won't know until I've started. But for the odds we're going up against, we need this, and I've got a better shot at doing it than anyone else. Remind me, what's my whole deal?"

Mirabelle blinked. "Um, being charismatic?"

"Thank you, but I meant in a fight."

"You…absorb magicka?"

"I channel other people's power." Xander corrected. "That's my whoooole schtick. I can't do anything by myself, but I can facilitate beings with greater ability than myself to succeed."

Mirabelle winced. "Xander, you're more than—"

"No, it's okay!" He was smiling. Warmly. "It doesn't have to be a bad thing. When it's you, Dulurza, Hjar, L'laarzen, people I care about? It's an honour."

Mirabelle just…looked at him. Looked at him for long enough that he shifted in place and said "Uh, what, did I say something wrong?"

"No, you're…perfect." Mirabelle shook her head, chuckling. "Alright. Go ahead. But I'm staying here with you."

"I'm not sure that's a great idea—"

"Oh no you don't, Alexander Meteuse." Mirabelle crossed her arms. "Recall that the people you care about also care about you. So you do something crazy, and I'll make sure you don't die doing it."

Xander's grin was back. "Hah! Alright, sounds good to me. One last check, I don't need to be conscious to ride to Ivarstead, do I?"

"I don't think so?"

"Good."

o ̶ ̶̶| ̶ ̶̶ ̶ ̶̶ ̶ ̶̶ ̶ ̶̶ ̶ ̶̶

"Ahrk fin norok paal graan, fod nust hon zindro zaan, Dovahkiin, fah hin kogaan mu draal."

The song ended, and I scowled. The music had drawn me ever-closer, and now, with it finally sounding as though I might reach it at any moment—

"Lok Vah Koor!" I Shouted. The power of the voice cleared the fog in front of me…and I saw it.

The Hall of Valor was magnificent in the way no real building could ever be. Oh, my eyes told me it was about twice the size of Dragonsreach, built from wood, bone, and gold, carved with great finesse (and glowing, because why not). But it felt even grander than that. As though the real building stretched out higher, further, greater than I could possibly understand, and my mind was just putting together the best image it could.

Perhaps Shor's hall simply wasn't meant for mortal eyes. Or even for mine.

"Divines…" Gasped Falk Firebeard, staring at it from behind my shoulder. "I see now why Bolgier wouldn't shut up about this place—"

"We need to go." I grabbed him by the shoulder and pulled him forwards. "Alduin won't be far behind."

The hall stood alone on an outcropping beyond the fields of mist and grass, separated by a wide gap that fell down to…well, quite possibly the space between planes. But we stood before a bridge crafted from the skeleton of some enormous creature that spanned the gap.

As well as a man who was guarding it.

"Shor's left testicle, it's Tsun." Falk breathed.

"What brings you, wayfarer grim, to wander here, in Sovngarde, souls-end, Shor's gift to honoured dead?" Declared the man, using far too many commas. He was…big. I'd grown so much in the last two months I wasn't even sure of my own size, and I was not used to people being taller than me. But this 'Tsun' had half a foot on me, was built like a brick outhouse, and radiated an aura of 'don't mess with me' stronger than…well. Stronger than anyone I'd met so far except Alduin.

"I'm here to kill the World-Eater." I answered the question, eyeing the axe slung over Tsun's back. "I hoped to find allies inside the hall."

"Is that so?" Tsun moved, more directly placing himself in their pass. "No few of the souls here have chafed with desire to battle the Wyrm. But Shor counselled that they should remain. Al-Du-In's dark hunger would mean that every foe that went out to fight him only made him stronger."

Hmph. It sounded like my own stratagem versus Odahviing. The chaff would just get in the way. In this case, they'd be even worse than useless.

Of course, thinking of that conflict reminded me of Lydia, which resulted in an unfamiliar stab of pain in my gut.

Damn it. I should have explained that better. Her face when I—

It doesn't matter. Focus. Do what's necessary.

"And Shor couldn't come out and do this himself?" I asked, annoyance bleeding through into my voice.

Tsun shook his head. "If you enter, you will find only an empty throne."

"How convenient."

"Shor is a god. It's never convenient with gods."

I grunted. Where's Xander when I need him… "Whatever. May I enter?"

"Hm." Tsun crossed his arms. "No shade are you, as usually here passes, but living. By what right do you request entry?"

"I claim no right to anything." I replied, flatly. "If I don't enter, the world probably dies. That's all."

"Hah! By right of determination!" Tsun chuckled. Then he shifted, drawing his axe. "You are welcome here, Dragonborn. But even you may not pass unless you have proven yourself worthy."

Well, that was simple enough. I drew my sword, a weapon of akaviri design enchanted by Xander.

"Stay back." I warned Falk.

"No, aye, staying back."

Then, since there was no point wasting any more time, I attacked.

Tsun blocked the sword swing. That was worrying. Nobody had been able to do that for a while. So I attacked again, and again, swiping with my blade half a dozen times in quick succession. Tsun got his great-axe in the way of all of them, then spun it to disengage and swung at my midriff. I blocked with my shield—

Clang.

—Then gasped when the force of the strike took me off my feet, sending me tumbling backwards to land in the grass metres away.

He actually pushed me back. That's…also rare.

I narrowed my eyes. Reevaluated. Jumped to my feet. Then blurred back in.

Anyone could tell that the following battle was not between mortals. The force we each brought to bear vastly outstripped our visible size; I blasted around like a thunderbolt, attacking from all angles, while Tsun was like a mountain, blocking every strike that came close while barely flinching.

"Su Grah Dun!" I shouted, boosting my speed further with the strength of the elements. But still Tsun kept up, even if the force behind the attacks sent shockwaves through the air.

Damn it. What will it take to—Screw it.

"FUS," I inhaled, "RO D—"

The haft of Tsun's axe crashed into my face.

I stumbled backwards, the energy building in my breath dissipating as the impact ruined the Shout, and then a boot took me in the chest and hurled me backwards. I landed on my back, and groaned.

"Your words do not match your actions, Dragonborn!" Tsun called to him. "You do not claim any right to enter but the sweat on your brow, and yet you fight me with only the power of your blood."

I narrowed my eyes. Propelled myself back to my feet. "I earned that power."

"But that does not make it yours. When you Shout, who's voice is it?"

"Mine." What in Oblivion is his deal?

"Yet it is the knowledge of your victims, the power of the Dragons you killed, that fuels your breath and propels your sword-arm." Tsun pointed his axe. "It's time for you to look inward and start asking yourself the big questions. Who are you? And what do you want?"

"I DON'T KNOW!" I roared, and attacked.

I didn't try anything clever this time. Just propelled myself into Tsun with a "WULD!" and pushed. Our weapons clashed between us and Tsun allowed the contest, face stern, meeting my eyes. I hated that look. Hated being judged. Like anyone on this damn plane had any right to judge me, knowing what I was, knowing everything I'd done for them. Half of them saw me as a god but couldn't give a damn about what I actually thought, just expecting me to be their hero, and the other half looked at me like I was a half-tame wolf, one wrong move from attacking them. Balgruuf didn't know me, Tsun didn't know me, nobody on Mundus actually—

I grimaced, as Tsun's strength forced me half a foot backwards—

No. That wasn't quite right. Xander knew me, or at least understood enough to know what I meant when I tried to explain myself. And Lydia…Lydia probably knew me better than I did. And she had faith that I was going to succeed here, which was a problem, because I was not going to let her down but this oversized bastard was wasting my time—

I growled, and kneed Tsun between the legs.

The god made a choked sound, allowing me to swing a fist into his jaw, making him stumble.

"FUS RO DAH!" And this time, Tsun didn't interrupt it. The Dragonborn's first and strongest Shout enveloped Tsun and launched him backwards…right off the side of the Whalebone Bridge.

I blinked. "Uh."

Falk crept closer. "Did…did you just kill the God of trials against adversity?"

"I…I don't—"

A clap interrupted both of us. We turned to see Tsun (apparently utterly unharmed) stood beside one of the bones.

"Good!" He said, smiling. "Whatever that thought was, Dragonborn, hold it close to your heart. You will need it in times ahead."

"Sure." I grunted, shaking off my odd mood and replacing it with irritation. Patronising, much?

Tsun turned to Falk. "And as for you—"

"He's with me." I grabbed the man by the arm and dragged him out onto the bridge.

8˂

"How in Oblivion did you just do that?" Delvin Mallory spluttered, "What did I just see?"

"Do not question the horsie." L'laarzen said, hopping off Shadowmere in the middle of the Cistern.

Brynjolf jogged over, a smile on his face. "L'laarzen! Good to see you, lass. Was your job in Morthal a success?"

L'laarzen paused. "…Uuuuuh—"

In a room in an undisclosed location, there was a 'clock'. Apparently, the 'clock' was some restored Dwemer invention made of metal gears. It ran on magic and told you what time of day it was, which was nice. But the Dwarves had also decided that they were going to make the thing tick. It ticked regularly, rapidly, incessantly, and then it clanged a few times per hour. It was, without a doubt, the most annoying thing in the history of mortal invention.

And the most irritating thing about it was that it had two 'hands'. Which meant it was doing better than her.

Mirri Ulen glared at the thing once again, before unstrapping a knife from her hip and using it to stab into the roast boar in front of her.

There was certainly no lack of hospitality in the room. A glass chandelier hung above their heads, and the table they sat at was laden with a veritable banquet of foods from a variety of different cultures. Even some from Mirri's homeland of Morrowind. Their host had good taste.

Yes. 'Their'.

"So, you kill people for money?" Said the woman sat across from her. It was an Orc female; strong, well-built, dressed in full armour even at the dinner table. She was slouched backwards in her chair with a chicken wing in one hand, occasionally biting it. These were the first words to break the silence since she'd come in fifteen minutes ago.

"Basically." Mirri sawed off a chunk of the boar, skewered it on her dagger.

"Nice." The Orc nodded appreciatively. "Maybe I should have done that. Sounds easier. Less politics."

"There's always politics." Mirri said, raising the food. "Just hard to see it sometimes."

She focused back on the cut of meat as she raised it. Cooked rare, how she'd always liked it, so there was a trickle of red—

Blood on the floor—

Blood in her mind—

Beasts gnawing at her limbs—

Spiders in her mouth—

The swing of an axe, again and again and again—

Mirri slammed the knife back down to the table, briefly convulsing. She shut her mouth tight, instinctively raising the other arm to cover it as she gagged—

Only to remember that there was nothing past her wrist on that hand. She grimaced, and forcefully brought it down, swallowing the bile in her throat.

"…You good?" The Orc asked, giving her a mildly horrified look.

"Absolutely not." Damn that crazy Imperial bitch… Mirri tossed the knife onto the table, appetite lost. "So what did you do? I thought we were here to kill people for money."

"Prison warden." The Orc seemed content to leave Mirri's outburst alone, which suited her just fine. "I ran Cidnah mine."

"The mine was a prison?"

"It was a weird system. We basically had legal slavery; it was lots of fun. Course, then a werewolf killed my boss, and then I had to run. Then I found a new boss, and then a werewolf killed him, too."

"Sucks. Same werewolf?"

"Yeah. Massive bitch."

"I know the type." Mirri huffed. "You got a name?"

"Urzoga."

"Mirri."

"Hey Mirri." There was a pause. The damn clock continued to tick. "…How'd you lose the hand?"

One of the room's doors opened, saving Mirri from having to open that bag of cats. The person that came in had to stoop to get through the opening; he was damn near seven feet tall, at a guess, and so broad his shoulders brushed the sides of the doorway.

Another Orc, for some reason (Why are there so many sodding Orcs in my life?). This one was also wearing armour, and looked like he could snap Mirri's neck between his thumb and forefinger. That alone didn't concern her. She'd killed strong fighters before. But this greenskin wasn't just big; there was a cunning that glinted in his eyes as he tracked them around the room. Mirri could tell he was sizing her up just as she was him, and the fact that he only paused briefly before sitting down at the third side of the table indicated that he wasn't afraid.

"…I'm not sitting in on a family reunion, am I?" Mirri asked, glancing between them.

"We haven't met." The man said, turning his attention to Urzoga. "You weren't part of the force that massed at Solitude, were you?"

"Oh, you were part of that mess?" Urzoga chuckled. "No, not for me. I had business in the Reach."

"You had an obligation to follow Malacath's champion."

"Oh aye? Well I don't see you making off to help restart Orsinium, so I suppose we're both skipping out on obligations today."

"Hm." The male went quiet. Surveyed the food on the table, but didn't eat any.

"I'm Urzoga. She's Mirri." Urzoga nodded between them. "You?"

"Larak." He declared. "Chief of Mor Khazgur."

Urzoga snorted. "Heh. Not anymore, I shouldn't think."

"…No. But that will change soon." Larak's gaze shifted over to Mirri, and she raised a pointed eyebrow at him.

"…How did you lose the hand?" He asked.

Mirri sighed, opening her mouth —

Clang! Clang! Clang!

—And the damn clock went off, making them all flinch, and Mirri growled "Oh, that is IT—" before snatching up her knife and hurling it.

The blade halted in mid-air a few inches from the clock's face.

"If we could please not destroy that, thank you." Said a voice, from another doorway. "My little brother made it for me for my twenty-first birthday, and it has a lot of sentimental value."

Everyone turned to the door.

A Man walked in with dark hair, golden eyes, and sharp, handsome features. The robes he was wearing were also black and gold—similar to those worn by Thalmor justiciars, but more practical. Odd for him to flaunt his allegiances; from what Mirri had seen, he usually preferred plain black.

He flicked one finger, and the knife floated back to land on Mirri's plate.

"Glad to see everyone's here." He said, with a smile. "Hail and well met. My name's Julius Meteuse. Behind me—"

And then Mirri saw what was behind him. She jolted to her feet, knocking her chair down stumbling away from the door.

"What is she doing here?" She demanded, her entire body shaking.

Julius glanced behind himself, briefly frowning in confusion before his eyes widened a fraction. "Oh, right, of course."

Stood in the doorway, That Woman had immediately locked eyes with Mirri and smiled. "Hi there, you~" She said. "Been a while, huh?"

Blood—

Pain—

Bites, all over her body—

"Octavia, would you mind waiting outside?" Julius sighed.

That Woman frowned. "Are you—"

"Yes, I'm sure. We're trying to foster cooperation here."

"Which worked out so well for you the last time you tried it…"

Julius gave That Woman a sharp look, and it was her turn to sigh, spinning on her heel and leaving without another word.

"Sorry about that." Julius smiled apologetically. It was a damn charming look, and it would probably have done a lot to calm Mirri down if her heart wasn't beating so fast it was about to erupt. "I understand that the two of you—"

"You didn't tell me you were with her." Mirri snapped.

"Apologies. But she won't be coming back in and I doubt the two of you will ever need to so much as exchange words. Could you please sit down?"

The only reason she eventually picked up the discarded chair and sat was because the two Orcs in the room were looking at her like she was insane…and because she just might collapse if she didn't. She wasn't about to apologise for any of it, though.

If these two had any idea what that bitch was capable of…

"Right then! We can start." Julius had also sat down, him at the fourth and final side of the table. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you all in person—"

"Skip to the point, posh-tot." Urzoga rolled her eyes. "You've done a lot of work to get us here, time to tell us why."

"Fair enough then." Julius' expression shifted slightly. Mirri had seen it happen a lot, in the weeks she'd spent in his residence. He was constantly changing how he presented himself based on who was around him. In this instance, a touch of the 'friendly' went away, replaced by a more gruff, serious demeanour.

"Put simply, me and mine need you and yours." He said. "The Thalmor are launching an attack and we need more manpower, so I'm here to enlist you three and your forces."

Urzoga squinted at him. "What do the Thalmor need to fight that they don't have the forces to?"

Larak made a dismissive noise. "It's never about numbers with the Elves. It's about culpability. They want us to do something so they won't be blamed for it."

"Sorta yes, sorta no." Julius tilted his head left and right. "Yes, it would be nice to have plausible deniability for this, but there will be Thalmor forces accompanying you. I'll be there myself, in fact. To answer your question, Urzoga: There's a Dragon at the peak of the Throat of the World. We're going to climb up and kill it."

There were a few seconds of silent disbelief before the three of them all started talking at once.

"You what?"

"What madness have you dragged me into?"

"A Dragon?" Mirri repeated. "You had me call in fifteen Morag Tong assassins to fight a Dragon? We kill people, Meteuse!"

"We have a plan for the Dragon." Julius said, loudly and certainly over their complaints. "The majority of that will be handled by myself and my associates who are properly suited for it. Anyone who wants to try their luck against a Dragon (I know that at least some of your subordinates will be One Of Those Types), they're welcome to assist. But I mostly need you to help us get to it, and stop us being interrupted while we kill it."

"Who would try to prevent you from slaying a Dragon?" Larak tilted his head. "Wouldn't we be doing the world a service?"

"Believe me, you will be. But there are those who don't see it that way." Julius reached into the table, pulled open a drawer (wait, this thing has drawers?) and pulled out a few documents. "The Dragon has the protection of the Greybeards."

"The Greybeards?" Mirri tilted her head. "You want us to kill some old monks?"

"Those old monks have been practising the way of the Voice for decades." Julius released the documents, and one floated to each of them. "I've spied on the Dragonborn while he fought and trained. I doubt the Greybeards can swing a sword like he can, but if their Shouts are anything like his, they're a threat almost comparable to Dragons themselves. These dossiers contain everything I know about them, and speculations on their abilities."

"How many are there?" Urzoga asked, plucking her copy out of the air but not opening it.

"Four."

"So you want us to kill four old men and a lizard," She screwed up her nose "…But you also expect that any one of those could slaughter us in droves?"

"So you don't want a catspaw." Larak gave him a critical look. "You want fodder for fire breath."

"They could kill you in droves if fought poorly." Julius corrected. He gestured from Mirri, to Larak, to Urzoga in turn."You're bringing to the table some of the finest assassins on the planet, you're bringing a swathe of fearless Orsimer warriors, and you're bringing a collection of skirmishers, soldiers, our own Thalmor (thanks for that by the way) and werewolf hunters. Employed correctly, combined with our own soldiers, we have a very formidable fighting force."

Mirri frowned at Urzoga, asking "I'm sorry, who works for you?"

"It's everyone I could gather from a prison break." Urzoga admitted. "Right after a small civil war."

"And why exactly do you expect us to do this for you?" Larak asked. "You aided my escape from Solitude, and you helped me gather those who refuse to obey Malacath's Champion. For that, I owe you a favour, but that doesn't mean I'm willing to put my life on the line against a wyrm for you."

"Same here." Urzoga pointed out. "Almost a quarter of those we freed have skulked off already. I can't make them fight for you."

"Oh, well, of course." Julius chuckled. "I wouldn't be so foolish as to expect your cooperation based on debts. I've helped you, but those were gifts, not favours. I plan on making this job worth your while."

And Mirri believed him. Julius was almost ridiculously generous. After saving her from an Imperial execution (and perhaps more importantly, from the hands of That Woman), he hadn't asked for anything in return. Just ensured she was fed and healthy, sat her down…and calmly asked her what she wanted, and what she was willing to do to get it.

She knew what she was getting out of this job, but she was curious what he would offer the others.

"You're paying us." Urzoga clarified.

"I am." Julius nodded.

"How much?"

He told them.

There would have been another stunned silence, if not for Urzoga choking briefly on a chicken wing.

"Each?" She spluttered.

"Each." Julius replied, smiling slyly. "Half before and half after, if you'd like. But there's more. A reward on a more…personal level. The Greybeards aren't the only ones we expect to intervene."

"The Empire? Stormcloaks?" Larak guessed.

"Fortunately, I don't believe they have the time, knowledge, or inclination to get in our way. I'm expecting a fairly small gaggle of people, in fact." Julius leaned forwards. "This includes a trio of women called L'laarzen, Hjarnagredda, and Dulurza. I won't pretend you don't know them."

Mirri couldn't help but clench her remaining fist at the announcement, but made sure to check up on her fellow mercenaries. She knew two of the names, but it seemed everyone had heard at least one; Larak's eyes had widened, while Urzoga's face had twisted into an ugly scowl.

"What in Oblivion did you do to piss of a werewolf from the Reach?" Urzoga asked.

"And why would Dulurza be with her?" Larak asked. "Her concern is Solitude and its accursed Jarl, not this."

"The world is chaos, and that chaos can breed some very unlikely alliances." Julius spread his arms. "This very table is proof of that. In all honestly, even I hardly know how they all met. But they don't like me."

"Why not?" Mirri asked.

"I tried to poison them all."

"Oh, right, that'll do it."

"Quite." He leaned backwards. "They are the main reason I gathered you all here. You know them. You've fought them. They've ruined your lives. I'm giving you the opportunity to kill them."

Urzoga was grinning. "You're paying me to kill that Reachwoman whore? I'm in. So long as nobody steals my kill."

"Nobody else touches Dulurza." Larak said. His expression had settled since he'd first heard the name, but he still looked distinctly uncomfortable. "She's mine."

"I think there's one thing we're forgetting here." Mirri said, drawing all eyes to herself. "If you're both in it for revenge, that means you've lost, right? As much as I'd love nothing more than to put a sword through that cat's heart, she's better than me." She raised her stump. "And I'm in no position to fight her right now."

That was the rub. The Mirri of before would never have dared voice these kinds of insecurities, but now…well. After what she'd gone through, she didn't have any pride left.

"A very good point." Julius said, before the others had time to agree or deny. "But you're forgetting that you're sat in a room with one of the greatest mages in the country. You have the knowledge, but I can provide the power."

"You mean enchantments?" Urzoga asked.

Julius smirked. "Something like that. Do we have a deal? If there's anything else you'd like, tell me now."

"Do whatever you want to me, magic man." Urzoga said, dropping the remnants of her food and leaning forwards. "Just give me my money, and give me a shot at that werewolf."

"I want what was promised to me by your operatives, months ago." Larak declared. "Solitude. I will have your help in sacking it."

Julius stared at him for a few seconds. Then nodded. "Perfectly doable. We can discuss the details later."

"Then I agree."

Julius looked over at Mirri. She bit the inside of her cheek. "If I do this," she said, glancing to the door, "I don't ever want to see Her again."

Julius shrugged his shoulders. "By all means. You won't be anywhere near each other when the attack happens. When it's over, as far as we care, you'll never have existed."

Thank the lord for my backlog cos I have had a stressful week my lord-

PLANNING! Planning is happening. Battle lines are shaping. The gang have finally cottoned onto Julius' plan, but he's got more in motion than they know. And Xander is having (quite possibly) the most absurd idea he's ever had. But it's only stupid if it doesn't work. Get ready folks; things are escalating.

Also hot damn, is this my longest chapter? Huh.

Next Time: The Disasters set off for the Throat of the World. The Dragonborn enters the Hall of Valor.