Shahvee's dreams were dark as of late… nothingness and yet, something more… she could not place it. Some intense feeling of trepidation and anticipation, like an angry cougar lying in wait within thicket and pasture.

Consciousness alluded her; the times where she did reach it, they were only trickles of stimuli… the chattering of strangers of surprisingly Imperial make, blurred sights of red robes and muted smells of steel and smithy – and soon she would go under again, resuming a viscous, impenetrable cycle.

The first time she attained some semblance of awareness for her surroundings was wafts of smoke choking her awake. Bringing up clenched fists in a feeble attempt to barrage the wave of coughing, she took in everything. For all she knew, the place had been set on fire.

She let out abated breath realising there was only one person.

He smirked. His weary wrinkles and grey hair did not suit him. "Bit strong, eh?"

"Reeks like death."

"Huh. I am assuming you haven't been to the Marshes?"

"No. Been in Skyrim my whole life."

"Curious."

It was only when he went and took another puff she started, and observed the room in full. It was obvious it was a fort going by the stone and the utilitarian décor. But she couldn't help but notice the deafening silence which colluded here.

"Sir, I wasn't the only one in those caves."

"So you were part of The Pack? Can't say I have seen you before."

"I'm new."

"I can tell. Whipper-snapper."

It was only like her to jump to conclusions, but his tone of voice and his rank suggested something final. He was trying to drag this out.

"They didn't make it." It was more a statement than an exclamation.

His subsequent blinking told her the whole story.

"Their… we found one of your members at the mouth of the cave. Ulrald. I knew him personally. When we were spread as thin as paper, he was the one to call up to get local affairs sorted. He was a good man. An even better Nord."

"How did they… you know…"

"For Ulrald and some others… stab wounds far too grievous to mend. Bled out. But it was a fight to the bitter end. For every one dead there were ten Falmer their number."

An exhalation. They deserved at least that. "Good."


Impossibly heavy gates made way for her and the commander, and what appeared was the closest she has been to any real courtroom setting. Regal towers lined the streets – windmills almost as tall as the Jerall Mountains – so many different people in different attire in different…

These sights and other such dizzying smells and sounds bashed her senses senseless, and it took the not-so-subtle coughing of the Imperial to bring her down to Nirn.

There was no question it was a showcase of power, and more than anything, a statement made to the rest of Skyrim.

At the same time, she can't help but speculate how easy it would be to collapse the cliff it stood on.

"This is Solitude, girl. Home of the Imperial Legion. In a sense, the Empire began here with the birth of Tiber Septim. So goes the stories; legends. Gods, what I wouldn't give for real historians in this place."

"You don't?"

"Well, we do. But too much of what is chattered in the streets is speculative nonsense. I doubt the Aedra have this much of a hand in the affairs of mortals, least ways."

Castle Dour soon casted a shadow over them, and through a push of the door, they were now in the heart of the war effort. Shahvee couldn't have felt more out of her element. Her time with the Pack only spared her brief glimpses of the political world. Otherwise, she may as well had lived in another reality.

Then, they rounded a corner to see the largest room yet. It was an library within an library. Stacks and stacks of books at seemingly all ends, the most detailed map she had yet seen scrawled on an equally large table. In the middle laid a man in his mid-50s buried under a mount of documents and other such literature.

"Speaking of, here is the man leading the charge," he said. "Sir."

"I was about to look for you Captain. I assume you have Riften hold secured from those cave dwellers?" the general said, not looking up.

"Yes. If I may, my scouts have also dotted down key positions where our units will have a significantly easier time holding."

"Excellent. But that will have to wait." Gods, he was dug alive under those mountains of maps and documents. She wasn't sure having that many black bags under his eyes was a healthy thing. "Who's the civilian?" he finally responded.

"Shahvee. She's the only Pack member that made it out the class five Falmer nest alive."

"Ah. Then I owe you my deepest apologies. There was a scuffle near Riften and I had to devote the majority of the 5th battalion there. Otherwise, they would have been stationed near one of those Falmer hotspots to the north of Riften."

"You couldn't have known."

"No, the fault is mine. We lost one of our greatest war assets because of it."

Not too soon after she came to did the world toss her into conversations that involved uncomfortably long and awkward pauses. Was she some concentrator of all things misfortunate?

Scrounging his face up as if searching very hard for an answer, he finally found it:

"Would it be too personal to ask the place you hail from?"

"No," she relented after a moment. "Windhelm."

"Windhelm, eh? Couldn't have been an easy life."

"It wasn't."

Again, silence reign, and for reasons which escaped her, he got on back to working his way through the bureaucratic web he tied himself in.

The captain was about to show her out before she came up with a question of her own.

"Do you mind if I asked something of you, sir?"

"Tullius is fine. And no, I don't. Shoot."

"I would like to join the Legion."

He raised his eyebrows. "That was fast. May I ask why?"

"The… the extermination job. They said it was a smaller enclave. Insisted actually. The agreed upon bounty reflected that. We trusted them. They sat through and drank mead with us with straight faces. They sung with us and we drunk like kings. They lied through their teeth."

"Ulfric and his men."

She nodded.

"It's all or nothing for him. He will find some way to wiggle his way an advantage, no matter how small. Nor how petty." He shook his head. "So you are looking for some sort of catharsis? A reminder we work as a unit and not heroes gallanting in shiny armour and charging headfirst into battle."

"Everything in my life was shaped by that bastard. It's personal."

"You would do anything?"

"Yes. So long as it ends with Ulfric's head on a pike."

"Alright. I think I might have the perfect position for you. It is also one that does not yet exist."

"I thought you said I was to be a soldier, not your personal lab rat."

"You did say you would join at whatever cost…"

"I, uh… well, my tongue has a tendency of slipping in the heat of the moment."

"Regret in the heat of the moment will get you killed."


"This is ridiculous."

"I know."

"So why wear them?"

"I don't know."

"Soon I am going to hear crap about how they spoke to me on a spiritual level…"

"But they do!"

"Here we go."

"Look, I put in a request a year ago on the condition that I completed every assignment without issue; I have. What poor impression of Imperials you lot would make for not fulfilling your end of the bargain…"

"I would sooner stab myself in the stomach than agreeing to this, but fine. You can have your stupid heels."

"Yes!"

"Soon as your performance dips even a little – which it will – I am taking it back, no ifs and buts."

"That's where you are wrong."


"By the Nine."

"I know. Crazy."

"And you owe this to your time with the Pack?"

"Gotta be nimble on your feet when you are the first one sent in."

"This helps you how?"

"Sometimes it's best if we leave some questions unanswered."

"Why do you value your fashion sense more than you do your life?"

"…"

"Say it one more damn time…"

"I don't know."


And just like that, half a decade, gone by…


Shahvee didn't take pleasure in killing. Never did; and on the occasions she had to, it usually meant her lunch packed up and left her belly for the day.

So, when her enemies surrendered, more often than not, she let be. Case in point:

"You believe I have the patience to kid? Go on, then."

Maybe it was a personality trait she adopted from her early childhood - the tales of knightly heroics which were sung as beautifully as the songs of sirens before she drifted off into a dreamscape of her own. Whatever it was, she had to have a firm grip on it soon. One of these days, it could actually get her killed.

"You are kidding. They will lob my head off the moment I-"

"You know, for someone who was just an inch off death, you have an awfully flappy mouth," she said cooly. "Frankly, I am very much pissed off, and I even felt particularly good today." She raised her sword at the bandit's jugular. "Pray this doesn't go up any further."

Frankly, the promise that she will track him down if he didn't comply was quite the load of crap. Tracking devices are outside the realm of science at the moment, though that tidbit decidedly flew over the bandit's little head. Not that you could blame him. Former comrades falling by the dozen like flies tend to do that to a combatant's psyche.

And just like that, he grabbed his remaining gear minus his weaponry and ran for the hills.

Shahvee probably shouldn't have let him go. Potential to be dangerous to innocents, and all that.

She doubts he will ever truly rehabilitate, not in Skyrim and their slave-camps-posing-as-prisons. It even may come back to haunt her. But that's the thing, right? You will never know. Pardon her for being more optimistic than pessimistic, but something has to keep her feet on the ground and keep her going in this shithole of a country.

Brought back into reality by the frantic sounds of retreating and panicked footsteps echoing in the ravine, she rose and inspected her nails. Thankfully, no chipping. Even after all these years... well, you could forgive a woman for making sure she looked the better of part of presentable.

Of course, the accumulating callouses and scars which dotted the minefield that was her form were tying a tight, tight knot of insecurity around her proverbial neck - and still, a small part of her mourns the loss of femininity, losing out on resembling the epitome of perfection.

Not one other person of her gender, that she met with at least, subscribed to any of her ideals, and that's just fine by her. A little bit of vain madness didn't hurt anyone.

Yet...

The sight of treasure was her kryptonite. Drop all her worldly possessions kryptonite. Why else did she make a living out of conquering dungeons of all things? Gold makes her world go round and round. Why bother worrying about chipped claws when you carry the cash to fix it?

Shallow, yes. Unnecessitated, no. Being able to see the slack expressions on owners who thought an Argonian such as herself couldn't pay up gargantuan rates was priceless and a guilty pleasure pastime.

Still, though... she had hoped to avoid too much bloodshed today, save for the rotting corpses of Draugr shambling about the dungeon. Unfortunately, some variant of bandit upstarts decided that she would be their ripe and easy target for the day. Kickass loot from both a warrior and a dungeon? Right on.

Theirs wasn't a bad plan, per se.

Thought they were being smart about it, too, waiting for just the right moment - right after she exited the cave - before they struck. Had she been raised differently, she may have fallen victim to their cunning. However, she was a right proper jumpy bitch, and reptiles are known for their moulded nimbleness.

"What a mess..." she muttered, wiping off some of the blood and gunk of her reinforced ebony blade and set. Amazingly enough, she was more upset about the damage her armour sustained than anything else. The whole thing was probably worth more than her stead and house combined. Lined along the edges were rare stones of all sorts she accumulated during the duration of her travels, with ebony metal acting as the base. They are acted as a sort of concentrator for magic, so when it struck, it struck hard.

It took her the better part of five years to save up for the ebony ingots, longer still to be able to afford the reinforcement enhancements. Her adventuring and spelunking and guild work had been going strong for, what... three years now? And not a chip to her armour nor her sword. You get what you pay for, as the Imperials say. Still, blood was surprisingly hard to be rid of.

Some may say the lack of inconspicuousness would be her downfall.

However, most of the time she replied only with a short nod and a brisk departure. Everyone's a critic. Can't win them all. Leather heels, in her opinion, are the peak of fashion.

She promptly shook those thoughts out of her wandering mind. Bit of a dreamer, that one.

So, without further-a-do, and with a heavy, reassured exhaling of breath, she started the trek home.


A glint in the snow in the distance.

As if a product of summoning, a barrier of snow encircled... something. Just shy of a blanket of shrub and sleeping willows...

She gasped.

It was not a log, but a body. A very naked and exposed body of a boy and his suspiciously immaculate and decidedly foreign backpack.