I have no words for how long it has been since I have updated this bad boy. So, all I will say I am sorry it has been so long. Next chapter is when the Skyrim timeline starts, so I'm hoping I will have an easier time writing and not get stuck as badly as I did for this chapter. My apologies to everyone still following this story.

Note: I do not own Skyrim or its characters. I have only thought up my own OCs for this story. This is rated M for a reason and will have mature themes. I will try to remember to put a warning before every chapter but if one is missing or you think something should be added please let me know. Also, here is a small guide to help with my writing style.

Italicized with no quotes is the character's thoughts

"No italics with quotes," is the characters speaking the common tongue.

"Italicized with quotes," is the character speaking another language, most likely falmer.

Hope that helps.

WARNINGS: depiction of a mental breakdown and self harm

Ysrae slams the door to the aptly named Rat Way and shudders. That was disgusting. How do those poor people live there?

"Ahem."

Ysrae slightly jumps. An annoyed looking man is standing in front of her with his arms crossed.

"You lost or something," he states in a gruff voice.

Ysrae looks around. "This is The Ragged Flagon, is it not?"

"It is."

"Then I am exactly where I wish to be."

"Hmph. Stay out of trouble, or there will be trouble," he threatens, moving to a table next to a bar.

Ysrae shrugs. She looks at the handful of people in the bar area. All of them, except for the barkeep and the man who threatened her, are wearing similar leather armor. They must be part of the Thieves Guild people told me about last night. Ysrae tightens her grip on the strap of her pack. She can't let her guard down.

She moves past the bar area. She spots someone sitting alone by some crates and reading a book. Ysrae gets the feeling this is who she is looking for. She takes a deep breath and approaches.

"Hmm, I suppose I can work with your face. After all, the sculptor cannot always choose the finest clay," the woman says without looking up from her book.

Ysrae raises an eyebrow at the absurd statement. The woman can't even see half of Ysrae's face thanks to the mask and hood she is wearing.

Ysrae decides to ignore the rude comment, "You must be the face sculptor."

"Yes," she finally puts her book down and properly looks at Ysrae. "I once practiced my art in the salons and manors of Tamriel's great and good. Now, the scum of Skyrim are my only clients," she says bitterly. "But no matter. The greatest artists are never recognized in their own time. So, are you here as a client? Shall I remake your face?"

"I am here as a client, but I do not wish to change my face."

She huffs, "Then what do you want?"

Ysrae glances around to make sure no one is in hearing distance. She lowers her voice, "Can you just change my skin color?"

"Of course. Although, I can only permanently change your skin within the natural range of your race."

Ysrae's heart drops. She swallows hard, "Is there any way you can change skin outside of natural colorings? Even if it is temporary?"

The woman hums, "What skin tone are you wanting?"

"Golden," Ysrae nervously fingers her amulet.

The woman scrutinizes Ysrae. "Are you not already golden?"

Ysrae shakes her head.

"Ahh, a half-breed then. I can see why you came to me. Your kind are obsessed with purity."

Ysrae stays silent as the woman reaches for a pack next to her.

She places the bag in her lap and looks up at Ysrae. "I can make a potion that will make you as gold as the highest of Altmer nobility. Your face on the other hand…." She trails off.

Ysrae pulls on the strap of her pack, This woman really knows how to make a person feel good about themselves. "How much?"

"I will give you a large bottle for one thousand gold. It should last you for more than three months," she says the latter hurriedly, most likely reacting to the widening of Ysrae's eyes.

Ysrae nods, "Ok. When will the potion be ready?"

The woman opens her pack and digs through it, "Lucky for you, I have a potion already made." She pulls out two large potion bottles, one with a clear liquid in it, the other gold. "Do you have enough gold with you?"

Ysrae slips her pack off, "Yes." She flips open her bag and slips her hand into the hidden pocket she sewed into it. She grabs two small coin purses containing five hundred Septims each. She clutches them in her hand and carefully seals the pocket. She slings the pack over one shoulder. She holds her palm out, the purses sitting comfortably in her hand

The woman stares at Ysrae's hand and scoffs, "Those cannot possibly contain a thousand Septims."

Ysrae rolls her eyes, "One moment." She pulls magicka to her hand, the spell giving off a green light. She releases the spell, causing the purses to start growing. She grabs one of the purses with her empty hand before they become too big for her one hand to carry.

"Neat trick," the woman says, almost sounding impressed. She nods at her pack. Ysrae places the now large coin purses in the woman's bag. "Alright, this," the woman holds up the bottle holding the gold potion, "is what will turn your skin gold. Pour it into your bath water until the water turns gold. Then bath like you normally would. Simple, even for someone of your standing."

Ysrae holds back a sigh. "It will not affect my hair?"

"No," she says curtly. "This," she holds up the clear liquid, "will remove the gold from your skin. Mix it with water the same way as the first potion. I recommend removing and reapplying the color from your skin every three days, otherwise it may start to fade."

Ysrae nods and takes the potions. She wants to ask one more question, but the woman might insult her to Oblivian and back if she asks anything else. Ysrae puts the potions in her bag.

"Is there anything else I can help you with? Need any scars removed or added?" the woman says the latter excitedly.

Ysrae hesitates. Do I want to deal with people asking questions? She slowly shakes her head, "Not right now. But I know where to find you if I change my mind."

"Indeed. Tell your friends about me," she drops her bag and resumes her reading.

Ysrae turns away and properly secures her pack. Ysrae quickly leaves The Ragged Flagon, eager to try out her new purchase.

….

Ysrae examines her hands with amazement. Her skin is the perfect golden hue. She leaps out of the tub and runs to a medium mirror hung over a night table. She smiles. Her skin is an even gold and looks natural. She ducks down a little to look at her face. True to the sculptor's word, the potion didn't affect her hair. She straightens back up and leans closer to the mirror, looking for the three small moles along her collar bone. She quickly spots the light brown dots and smiles wider. She was hoping the potion wouldn't change them.

Her eyes lower and she gently touches her collar bone. She used to not like the moles. Faiyis had made fun of Ysrae for it any chance she had. Faiyis would boast how her skin had no imperfections. Meanwhile, Athkir would often kiss her there. He said it made her distinguished. He helped Ysrae come to love the spots.

Ysrae's eyes start to water. She grabs her amulet from the table and clutches it in front of her face. She closes her eyes and fervently prays for her clanmates who survived the slaughter. She pays special attention to Athkir and her brother.

By the time she is finished, tears are streaming down her face. She hopes they are ok, even if their souls are no longer on the mortal plane. A sob escapes her throat. She covers her mouth with her hand to muffle any more involuntary noises. She sinks to the floor, curling in on herself. She allows all of her pain and sadness out with muffled sobs.

Ysrae takes deep breaths, slowing the tears. Her thoughts drift to the abuse she suffered as a slave and her tears flow with renewed fervor, causing her nose to start running. There's a deep pain in her chest and her shoulders shake from racking gasps. Ysrae can't seem to get enough air. Despite this, she squeezes her mouth with her hands.

She stays like this, occasionally allowing herself to take a wheezing breath through her mouth. Her tears eventually dry out and she is able to get her breathing under control. There is still a heavy pain in her chest, but she mostly feels better. Ysrae shakily stands and walks back to the tub to wash the tears and snot from her face. Once she's finished, she gets dressed and gathers up her things, making a quiet escape back to the room she's renting.

Once in her room, Ysrae just drops everything on the floor and crawls under the blankets. Lucky for her the inn was in full swing during her meltdown, so it doesn't appear anyone heard her. She clutches her amulet in her hand and closes her eyes. Some tears escape, but she soon falls into a deep, dreamless sleep.

….

Ysrae wakes up feelilng like she was hit in the face with a rock. She looks at herself with a small hand mirror. She puts the mirror down forcefully and groans. She looks awful and she still feels emotionally drained. She throws the covers over herself and stays in bed.

Ysrae stays in bed for what she thinks is three days. She's not exactly sure as her normal sleeping habits are fucked. One of the innkeeprs has checked on her twice, knocking on the door and inquiring about her. Both times Ysrae answered with a raspy 'I am alright'. She wasn't, of course, but she wasn't going to share her problems with a complete stranger.

She lets another day pass in bed before she decides she needs to try and do something to feel relatively ok. Ysrae drags herself out of bed and to her small chest next to the dresser. She digs through the clothes and other personal effects until she finds a quill, ink, and the small journal Mol had given her before everyone went their separate ways. She sits next to the chest with her back against the wall.

Ysrae pulls out the stopper in the inkwell and sets is beside her, carefully dipping the quill. She holds the quill over the blank parchment, poised to write, but unsure how to begin. She takes a deep breath and exhales slowly. Might as well start from the beginning.

….

Ysrae ends up writing for hours. She has written down everything. What little she can remember of her mother, life within the clan, her time as a slave, her time with Scouts-Many-Marshes and Mol, and even her current emotional distress. Everything. By the time she's done, her hand is cramping painfully and the journal is over half full.

She sighs, feeling a little bit better. She replaces the stopper in the inkwell and places everything on the dresser. She notices her hairbrush and hesitantly grabs it. She slowly detangles her messy locks. It takes much longer than normal, but she is able to detangle her hair so the brush runs smoothly through it.

She grabs the hand mirror from the nightstand. She takes a moment to prepare herself. She holds the mirror up to her face. Four days of improperly taking care of herself has taken its toll. Despite how much she slept, there are bags under her eyes. The tops of her cheeks are also broke out. Ysrae sighs. She hasn't had issues with her skin since she was a teenager. She also notices the previously healthy golden hue of her skin now looks paler and sickly. No wonder the face sculptor recommended using the potions every few days.

Ysrae sighs and puts down the mirror. She walks to the door and leans close to it, listening for any sounds. She hears nothing, so she grabs her pack, which still contains her bathing and beauty supplies. Ysrae puts on her cowl and walks back to the door. She slowly cracks it open and carefully peeks around the door. There is no one. It appears everyone has gone to bed. She silently sneaks to the washroom to bathe.

….

Over the next few days, Ysrae starts to feel more normal. She manages to leave her room more and eat regularly. She has stopped wearing her face mask and face paint, but is still wearing her cowl. So far, the few people she has interacted with in The Bee and Barb, don't seem to suspect she isn't Altmer. As such, she has decided to go by the name Aranesse.

Currently, Ysrae is quietly eating an apple in the corner of The Bee and Barb, her face completely uncovered for the first time in a while. It feels a bit odd, but it's nice to breathe unrestricted. She finishes her apple and decides she is going to explore Riften today to get a better feel for the city. Ysrae picks up her pack, slips out of her seat, and leaves The Bee and Barb.

The market is in full swing. She makes her away around the circle of stalls, starting with an Argonian, whose name, she finds out, is Madesi. She has a pleasant conversation with him, where she learns many Argonians prefer to be called Saxhleel. Ysrae doesn't buy anything, but she promises to come to him if she ever has jewelry that needs to be cleaned or repaired.

She moves on to the stall to the left of Madasi's. The woman at the stall is impatient and rude. She loudly remarks how surprised she is an elf of Ysrae's standing would visit her lowly stall. Ysrae holds back her anger towards the abrasive woman and simply moves on to the next stall.

The next stall has spices and trinkets Ysrae has never seen before. The Dunmer running the stall explains many of the items he has are from Morrowind. He introduces himself as Brand-Shei and boasts of his connections to obtain exotic ingredients and whatever else a person may need. So far, Ysrae likes the upbeat man.

Ysrae moves away from Brand-Shei's wares, so she is out of the way, but doesn't approach the last stall. She thinks she has seen the man running the stall once or twice in the inn. Throughout her time in the market, the man with dark red hair has been loudly trying to sell some potion or elixir. Ysrae holds on to the strap of her pack and listens to his pitch for the first time.

"Genuine Falmer Blood Elixir for sale. Live for thousands of years, see into other people's thoughts, learn a library's worth of knowledge in moments, or grow back that missing limb with my genuine Falmer Blood Elixir. Purchase a bottle of my Falmer Blood Elixir, only twenty Septims each."

Ysrae hides a scoff behind her hand, making it seem like a cough. The Nord turns his gaze to Ysrae. She crosses her arms and shifts her weight to one side, eyes narrowed. He gives her a winning smile before returning his attention back to peddling his "Falmer" elixir.

"Hmph." I was sure he was going to try to sell me that shit. I hate to admit, he is charismatic and handsome. Ysrae uncrosses her arms and decides to check out the stall next to the Bee and Barb. She has a short conversation with the Dunmer woman running the stall, Marise, who mentions the Thieves Guild. Ysrae managed to forget about the Thieves Guild and she spends the rest of the day inquiring about the guild.

As she asks around about the guild, she manages to accumulate some tasks from various citizens. Marise wants ice wraith teeth for her food. Balimund, the local blacksmith, asked for fire salts to revive his forge. Lastly, the co-owner of Elgrim's Elixirs, Hafjorg, asked Ysrae to retrieve an ore sample from a blacksmith in Shor's Stone.

The sun is now starting to set. Ysrae happily returns to her room at The Bee and Barb. Most of her interactions with the citizens of Riften were positive and she is glad to have some work to do. She has plenty of gold locked away in a chest in the corner, but she will need to keep working if she wants to be able to afford the face sculptor's potions. She hopes she will be able to live happily enough in Riften.

….

Time slips quietly by. The warmth of fall makes way for the bitter cold of winter. Ysrae loves the snow that comes with it. She never thought she would miss snow. It's not as deep as what she is accustomed to for winter, none the less she enjoys it. The winter is long and bouts of cold and snow continue through most of the spring. Before she knows it, the heat of summer is upon Skyrim.

Ysrae has somewhat settled into life in Riften as Aranesse. She wanted to live as Ysrae, but she decided she better go by an Altmer name. As far as she can tell, there is only one Altmer in Riften. However, if the Thalmor ever come, she doesn't want to have an "odd" name that'll make her stick out.

Ysrae has had a few run-ins with the Thieves Guild, but she hopes they will leave her alone now. The last time a member tried to pick her pocket, she threatened them with death. She demonstrated her seriousness by breaking their finger. She felt sick afterward and went to the temple to pray to Auri-El for the rest of the day. They haven't bothered her since that day, but she still worries she may have to make good on the death threat.

Ysrae hasn't found a consistent job, instead, she decided to do odd jobs whenever she can. This suits her more than working at one place. It satisfies her want for travel and change, plus, most people pay her generously for removing their need to travel. Being away from the city also gave her the privacy and time to figure out how to summon her ancestors.

Ysrae does, however, technically have a job at Helga's Bunkhouse. The first time she visited the bunkhouse, Helga insisted it wasn't the place for her and tried to get Ysrae to leave. Helga's assumption angered Ysrae enough that she stayed the whole night, drinking and flirting with the men. A few days later, Helga begrudgingly asked Ysrae if she would work at the bunkhouse. Ysrae smugly agreed to work when she chooses to.

With all the different odd jobs and work at the bunkhouse, Ysrae has saved enough and is bringing in enough coin to hire a man to look for her last known surviving clanmates. She is paying him a large amount of gold not only to find her clanmates, but to keep quiet that there are surviving snow elves. Ysrae happened to meet the man at The Bee and Barb. The man, a Breton named Athel, was passing through following a lead. Ysrae and Athel got talking and he told her about some of his past investigations. He never went into specifics of what or who he was investigating. Because of this, Ysrae felt he was trustworthy enough to hire.

Ysrae has continued to rent a room at The Bee and Barb. She has an agreeable arrangement with Keerava where she hunts for the inn in exchange for a reduced rate on her room. She has thought about leaving the inn and building a small cabin outside of Riften, but Ysrae enjoys seeing the interactions between Keerava and Talen-Jei. They are an adorable couple and it's refreshing to see a healthy relationship flourish. Besides, Ysrae can discreetly learn what's going on, not just in Riften, but in the rest of Skyrim as well.

Ysrae also continues writing in a journal. It not only helps her feel better, but it helps her manage her emotions and allows her to say what she can't out loud. She doesn't have to worry about anyone finding her writings, as they are all in Falmer.

The life she has created for herself in Riften isn't the most exciting, but Ysrae is happy enough…most of the time. Right now, she is incredibly frustrated. She recently started helping Mjoll try to better Riften. So, Ysrae just finished having a meeting with the Jarl, despite Mjoll's protests, to try to show the Jarl the corruption of the Black-Briars. The Jarl refused to believe Ysrae despite the proof she presented.

Ysrae sighs as she leaves Mistveil Keep, What a waste of an evening. I know the Jarl is friends with Maven, but I thought she would listen if there was proof. She seems like someone who truly cares about her people. She is either blinded by friendship or too naïve… Ysrae huffs. It feels like the last few weeks she spent getting proof of the Black-Briar's corruption has been for nothing.

She massages her temples, trying to ease a headache that's starting to take over. She hurries back to The Bee and Barb. She wants to go to bed before it sets in and she can't sleep. Luckily, the inn is quiet and Ysrae is able to immediately fall asleep.

….

Ysrae wakes with a deep, shuddering breath. She's sweating and breathing heavily. She was stalked in her dream by a black shadow, slipping in and out like smoke. In the end, Ysrae was killed by the shadow. The dream was so vivid… Ysrae pulls magicka to her hand and casts candlelight. She scrambles out of bed and grabs a quill and journal. She quickly scribbles the dream down before she can forget it.

Once she finishes, she takes a deep breath and runs a hand through her hair. The last time she had a dream this real, her clan was attacked a day later. Ysrae bites her thumb. She can't help but worry. Ysrae scoffs and slams her hands down. She might as well make her nervous energy useful.

She takes out empty vials from her pack and repacks it with essentials: some health potions, dried food, a full water container, two hundred gold, and a spare dagger. There are some more things she will need to get once the shops open, but this will do for now.

Ysrae lights a candle and grabs a piece of paper. She carefully writes an explanation, trying not to cause worry. She apologizes for not writing sooner and asks that her things be hidden and taken care of. She folds the paper and drips wax on it to seal it. She hesitates before writing a name on the outside.

She sighs, I hope Mol will be able to take care of my swords and armor.

Ysrae leaves the dresser and goes to the bed, clutching the letter. She places the letter on top of the bed and kneels down. She bends over and pulls out her individually wrapped swords from beneath the bed. She places them on the bed and carefully unwraps the linen from them. She ghosts her fingers over her swords. She grits her teeth. She has to concentrate. She puts a steady stream of green magicka into the swords, shrinking them until they're half their normal size. Ysrae picks one up and carefully examines it. When she finds no changes in her sword, she lets out a sigh of relief. The shrinking spell can damage or deform an object if it isn't performed with the utmost care.

Ysrae tightly wraps the swords back up, one at a time. She goes to her chest next to the dresser and digs out some leather straps, as well as a linen wrap. She uses two straps to lash the swords together. Ysrae feels under the bed for her armor and pulls it out. She puts the carefully folded armor on the final piece of linen and sets the swords on top. She wraps everything into a neat bundle. Once it's tight, she fastens it all together with two straps. She slips her letter under one of the straps. She leans back and examines the bundle.

This will have to do. Ysrae takes a deep breath. "I hope I am over reacting," she whispers to herself. Ysrae clasps her amulet and prays until she hears the inn start to come alive. Time to find a courier and finish preparing.

….

Ysrae curses under her breath as she leaves the temple. She pauses with her back against the door, scanning her dark surroundings. She didn't mean to stay as late as she had. The past few days she has made it a point to be at the Bee and Barb or Helga's Bunkhouse before sunset. Now there is no one around except for a guard who should be posted outside the wall going around the temple.

Ysrae discreetly grabs the dagger she strapped to her thigh, grateful she decided to wear her shorter tavern dress. She clasps the dagger over her chest, pretending to be holding her amulet. She narrows her eyes, trying to see through the darkness. She sees nothing, but that doesn't stop her heart from trying to pound out of her chest. She takes a deep breath and shoves off the door.

Ysrae quickly goes down the temple steps. Once outside the wall, she looks around. The usual guard isn't around. Her breath quickens and all she can hear is her heart pounding in her ears. She practically runs to The Bee and Barb. She pulls the door open and slams it behind her, startling some people.

Ysrae's eyes dart around the room, breathing heavily. She moves for her room, ignoring all the stares directed at her.

"Aranesse?" Talen-Jei approaches her looking concerned, "Are you ok?"

Ysrae laughs nervously, "Yes, I uh..." She takes a deep breath and forces a smile, "Sorry, Talen-Jei. I frightened myself."

"Is that why you have that?" he nods at the knife still clutched to her chest.

She nods and gives him a sheepish smile, "I forgot I had this." She runs her free hand through her hair. "Sorry I caused a scene." She sighs, "I have been on edge lately."

Talen-Jei nods, "Don't worry about. You've been a good customer and help to us." He pats her shoulder. "Let us know if you need anything."

Ysrae thanks him and flees to her room. Once inside, she drops her dagger. The loud thunk it makes as it hits the floor barely registers to her. She falls against the door, her mind moving at a frantic pace. Thoughts of how she is being paranoid and how she is basing her actions on a dream flood her mind. She thinks about how her dream before her clan was attacked came true.

But the attack happened the day after I had that premonition. Nothing has happened for four days. Ysrae drags a hand down her face. What if what I've done will ruin what I made here? Her stomach turns at the thought.

She shakes her head and takes a deep breath. She disregards her last thought. With what she has done since she had the dream, the worst result of her actions would be needlessly worrying Mol. Ysrae closes her eyes and takes deep breaths in and out, trying to calm her racing heart.

No matter what happens, I have Auri-El and my ancestors on my side. She repeats this to herself until her heart calms. She takes one last deep breath and opens her eyes. "I'll be ok," she whispers to herself.

She shoves herself off the door and grabs her bag. She checks it for all the essentials, like she has many times. It has everything she needs to leave on short notice, including a canteen containing the diluted potion to make her skin its natural color. She tosses the bag back.

Ysrae takes a deep breath and looks back to the door. She pulls all of her magicka to her hands, the barrier spell giving off a teal glow. She casts the spell at the doorway, blocking entry to her room. Ysrae gasps and starts sweating profusely. A wave of exhaustion hits her. She stumbles to the bed and falls in. She probably shouldn't have used all of her magicka, but the barrier should last most, if not all, of the night.

She falls into a deep sleep.

….

Ysrae wakes before sunrise, feeling well rested. She is relieved to see her barrier still going strong. She feels better from the previous night, but is restless. Ysrae decides she is going to hunt. She eats an apple then quickly dresses in leather pants and a leather cuirass. She packs her quiver with steel arrows and slings her bow over her shoulder. She spots her dagger lying near the door. She picks it up and carefully attaches it to her inner thigh, hoping it will go unnoticed. She takes a deep breath and heads out.

….

Ysrae holds her bow and carefully shifts her weight. Her legs are starting to cramp. She has been hunkered down in the woods around Riften for quite some time. It has been quiet all morning. She sighs softly. It does not appear that she will see any animals. As she stands, Ysrae hears something behind her. She turns just in time to see black dart towards her.

She gasps and swings her bow. It hits the person hard, knocking them to the ground.

"Damn you!" The voice sounds male.

Ysrae swiftly nocks an arrow and points it at the man's chest. He is wearing matching deep red and black hooded armor that hides his face. She has never seen an assassin from the Dark Brotherhood, but his studded armor matches the descriptions she's heard.

"What do you want?" Ysrae asks, trying to keep from shaking.

The man chuckles, slowly moving to a crouched position. "You've angered the wrong person, Aranesse."

Before Ysrae can say anything, the man roars and throws dirt in her face. Ysrae cusses and lets her arrow fly. She hears the arrow hit something meaty and the man grunt in pain. She frantically wipes at her eyes. Ysrae is hit from the front and tackled to the ground. She forces her streaming eyes open and struggles with the man. Unfortunately, her vision is blurry and he gets the advantage, straddling her waist and pinning her down, holding one of her wrists in each hand.

Ysrae squirms and is starting to panic.

He laughs and leans down, "Too bad someone wants a pretty lil thing like you dead."

Ysrae spots her arrow sticking out of his shoulder. She growls and manages to turn her head and bit his arm. He yells and she wrenches her hand free. She grabs the arrow protruding from his shoulder and twists. He screams and lets go of her other hand. Ysrae twists harder and shoves him off of her.

Ysrae scrambles to her feet and pulls out her dagger. The man does the same, but he also pulls out a sword. Ysrae is almost impressed at his ability to ignore the intense pain his shoulder must be in.

"You really think you can beat me alone with just that butter knife?"

"No," Ysrae says, taking a few careful steps back from him. "But I am never alone." Ysrae slashes the knife across the inside of her forearm, blood immediately seeping out. She lowers her arm, making the blood trickle off her hand and onto the ground. "Ancestors protect me." She falls to her knees as her vision goes black.