A blizzard was raging across the far west of Skyrim as the Dragonborn rode hard across Haafingar Hold, the breeze whipping across the forest trail as he rode on, trusting in the light of his torch and the sure movement of the strong draft horse he rode in the almost pitch black night.

It had taken him two days to reach this far, staying the night in Rorikstead and Dragon Bridge. He didn't want to ride the horse too hard. These mountains were usually crawling with bandits, crazed Skooma dealers and worse. Were his horse to break its leg and leave him stranded out here, he didn't know which might get him first- a bandit's arrow in the back or the cold.

Lucius hugged his thick wool fur cloak around him. His Dragonbone armour was currently packed safely away in his saddlebags along with the rest of his supplies, replaced by a cheap but effective set of leather armour he had bought from a Khajiit caravan stopping over in Rorikstead on the way to Whiterun. Even in the much lighter armour, Lucius still felt uncomfortable and tired. He would have rather not worn any armour, but preferred a bit of discomfort to being killed by a lucky sword stroke.

His horse neighed uneasily as they passed under the dark tree canopy of two ancient pines leaning across the trail at crazy angles, their branches as sharp as spear tips.

"Easy boy…easy." Lucius said, patting the tired horse's head absently, the other hand keeping a firm hand on the reins. Despite his calm words, Lucius kept his hand near to the sheathed curved form of Dragonbane as he led his horse further into the forest, gripping his legs slightly tighter into the saddle as they began to head downhill.

And, as the forest began to clear away and the path spiralled in a bending line down the sheer cliff face beyond, Lucius looked out over the night sky beyond.

The twin moons, Masser and Secunda, were higher in the sky than a few nights ago, whilst the stars, said by scholars to be holes created in the fabric of reality by the Divines before time began, twinkled and shone brightly down upon the slow moving waves of the Sea of Ghosts below, deceptively calm considering its fearsome reputation.

The shifting lights of the aurora, a vast tapestry of deep blues, greens and purples, stretching endlessly across the sky above, shone down as Lucius took his horse down the path at a slow trot, breathing in the sea air and enjoying the light breeze across his clean shaven features.

And, just in the distance, its form crowned by dozens of burning torches and magical orbs of light, was the former fortress of a now dead vampire clan which had, before its occupation by the minions of Molog Bal, been the last redoubt of the dying race of Snow Elves. Millennia ago it had been the greatest stronghold of that now corrupted race but centuries of occupation by the vampires had stained its reputation irreparably.

Castle Volkhair.

As he reached the small jetty Lucius tied up his horse by its broken pillars, muttering a spell under his breath and casting it by the weary animal, a large spectral dog forming out of the purple smoke that issued from his hand. The familiar barked faithfully as Lucius walked away. It would be enough to protect his mount from the wolves and trolls that infested this desolate coastline for a while, and Lucius wasn't planning on staying long.

He was here for answers.

As he looked out across the narrow but deep stretch of water beyond, he could just see shadowy figures moving amongst the battlements atop the castle's main gatehouse, the two huge towers beyond, both newly repaired, standing like silent sentinels in the night. And, in the far distance, the mountains of the Breton province of High Rock were just visible on the horizon. Looking out at the borders of that strange realm of mountaintop castles and political backstabbing, Lucius felt a smile come to his face.

"Another time maybe…"

Taking one last look out at the sea beyond, judging the distance, Lucius called upon his innate knowledge of the Dragon tongue once more.

"Wuld-Nah-Kest!" he shouted, and felt his body seem to be propelled forth by the sound of his voice, carrying him safely across the water in a heartbeat and depositing him safely on the hard shingle beach beyond.

Looking up at the crumbling watchtower next to him, Lucius saw it was empty and kept walking, his feet, clad in sturdy leather riding boots, crunching on the shingle and gravel before he stepped onto the cobblestone surface of the large bridge leading up to the castle's huge square gatehouse.

His cloak whipping around him as a cold wind blew across the bridge, Lucius took a minute to look at the six elegant stone statues that had replaced the gargoyles that the Volkhair Clan had placed there. Each of them depicted the same figure, a vaguely elven man dressed in flowing robes and holding aloft an orb of glowing Magelight in his hands.

Lucius recognised the figure as the god Auri-El instantly, the Elven variant on the Divine Akatosh.

"Seems the new tenants have been busy." He muttered to himself as he crossed the bridge, one hand holding aloft a lit torch and the other inside his cloak resting on the hilt of Dragonbane.

As he came to the middle of the bridge, the thick wooden portcullis and banded iron gates shut in front of him, he heard a voice calling out.

"By the grace of Auri-El, stop traveller!"

From above Lucius heard the dull twang of readied bow strings, and looked up to the battlements above the gatehouse to see a dozen pale figures in elegant light armour the colour of snow aiming slender bows down at him, their arrows glowing white hot at the tips. Looking behind him he saw a group of similarly pale archers standing atop the watchtower by the water's edge, blocking off his escape.

Another man might have thought himself fighting ghosts from the past, but Lucius knew better. Ever since a letter written in the almost indecipherable Falmer tongue had reached his home, pressed into his hands by a stranger who refused to show their face, but whose hands were the colour of snow, Lucius had known exactly who these new tenants of Castle Volkhair were.

"Snow Elves." He said in a low voice, and the Elves must have heard him, for the archers leaned further out, all lining up their bows on Lucius' head.

"Who are you?" A voice called out, its tone commanding and disdainful. "Who are you to come near our last stronghold, the Fortress of Auri-El?"

Lucius sighed. 'It's Dragonborn time.' He thought with a wry grin as he looked up at the figures on the battlements overhead.

Without another thought, he opened his mouth, feeling the ancient words forming on his lips as he shouted out.

"Fo-Krah-Diin!" he shouted, and a blast of glittering ice flew out, slamming into the thick stones just underneath the battlements the Snow Elves cowered behind.

"I am the Last Dragonborn." He declared as the Snow Elves stared down. "The Son of Akatosh, who you know as Auri-El ,and I wish to speak with Knight-Paladin Gelebor of the Chantry of Auri-El."

For a few seconds there was near silence, except for quiet whispering amongst the Elves on the battlements, and the slam of a door and rapidly diminishing smack of booted feet on stone steps.

Lucius looked up at the snow covered form of Castle Volkhair, or rather, the Fortress of Auri-El, as its new owners were calling it. When he had received the letter from Gelebor about a year ago he had thought little of it, even when the ancient Elf had claimed that he had received word from other scattered Snow Elf tribes throughout Tamriel, who had all heard of a man using the power of Auriel's Bow to make the sun burn even brighter, and was said to have used it to pierce the heart of an ancient vampire and wipe him from existence. Lucius had known instantly that was him, even though he had only carried the bow for a month or so before returning it to the Chantry and Gelebor.

As he thought about his previous disbelief mere months ago at there being any more Snow Elves, the portcullis clattered up and the main gate was pushed open. From the castle emerged a group of ten Snow Elf warriors in the same white Ancient Falmer armour the archers wore, bearing shields with the sun symbol of Auri –El emblazoned across, and tall spears with tips that looked to be crafted out of pure ice.

The warriors drew up a few metres from Lucius, forming a shield wall, their spears not lowered, but still their gauntleted hands clutched the shafts, ready to run the Dragonborn through at a moment's notice. Then the wall parted slightly to allow one elegant figure to step forward. The Snow Elf was a stark contrast to his warriors, his armour polished and obviously very well kept, covered in ancient Falmer runes and symbols, a cloak of purest white around his shoulders and a crown of silver atop his long white hair. At his hip was belted a thin sword in an ornate sheath and in his hand was a spear, which he levelled at the Dragonborn with a frown crossing his pale features. It looked to Lucius as if the Snow Prince of ancient times, the last hero of that doomed race, had come down to Mundus once more.

"So you are the Dragonborn, son of Akatosh?" he asked, his voice commanding and yet filled with a slight sense of fear. "The being with the body of a man but the soul of a dragon? Son of the god of both time and the sun above?"

Lucius nodded solemnly. "I am the Last Dragonborn, yes. And I have come to speak to Gelebor on urgent business."

The Snow Elf lowered his spear, but still kept his hand firmly gripped on it. "I am Prince Mirtil, last of his line, direct descendant of the Snow Prince himself. You are only welcome in our halls because I allow it…Dragonborn." He said coldly, and Lucius heard his title being said for the first time with venom and hate. Even Alduin had respected him. This man here saw him as little more than a potential enemy.

Without another word the prince turned, beckoning to the warriors beside him, who quickly collapsed their shield wall and, forming up around Lucius as the prince walked ahead, escorted him through the gates of the Fortress of Auri-El; the doors slamming shut behind them as they stepped inside.

As Lucius came into the brightly lit halls beyond, for a second he was struck with a strange sense of familiarity. The long corridor was filled with the same elegant stone furniture and bright Magelights that had adorned the Chantry of Auri El, the doors to the Great Hall up ahead flanked by two Snow Elf warriors, who bowed low as the prince passed, while giving looks of both fear and mistrust at Lucius.

When they stepped into the Great Hall itself, Lucius couldn't believe how much it had changed. Last time had been here he had been storming the ancient fortress alongside the full might of the Dawnguard, and had had to wade through puddles of blood and past piles of corpses drained of blood. Now all that was gone, and the Great Hall was filled with the sounds of Snow Elves, laughing and talking amongst themselves and small groups of Elven children, which Lucius had almost never seen even amongst the more prolific Elven races, could be heard running amongst the adults. But as Lucius and his escort came out onto the balcony that looked over it all, every eye in the room was on him, and the conversations were now spoken in hushed tones as the Imperial looked out over the room.

Ignoring the suspicious stares, Lucius marvelled at how different the room was, now filled with more of the delicate stone furniture he had seen before, the centre of the polished stone floor dominated by a sun symbol created with countless glimmering white gems.

"It's a good thing the Thieves Guild don't know about this place…" he said with a slight smile, before he felt a hand on his shoulder, and turned to see Prince Mirtil, who frowned and said simply.

"Gelebor is in the cathedral, outsider. Go see him, find out what you know, then leave."

Shrugging as the Snow Elf walked away, Lucius pulled his cloak around him and descended the steps, walking the same path he had taken with Serana a year ago to the castle's large cathedral, but this time for very different reasons. With the eyes of every Snow Elf in the room on him, Lucius left, heading down the winding corridors, now marked with white and gold banners instead of bloodstains, and entered the cathedral through the main door.

000000

As he entered the towering room, the Dragonborn felt momentarily the same pang of fear he had when confronting Serana's father. The new tenants may have taken away the coffins and cleansed the room of its vile owner's taint, but he could still just smell the same stench of blood and death that had once hung over this place.

Stepping onto the cold marble floor, he walked down the rows of new carved stone seats that sat either side, and looked up at the main altar, which was surrounded by a trickling fountain of crystal clear water. Where once a font of blood and statue of Molog Bal had stood, now there was a glittering statue of gold and gleaming diamonds, forming the benevolent form of Auri El, a small miniature sun created through magic that was beyond Lucius, in one golden hand and in the other, the white form of Auri-El's Bow. Kneeling at the foot of the statue was the familiar form of Knight-Paladin Gelebor, easy to spot due to his shock of bright white hair, and he turned as Lucius approached.

"It is good to see you once more Dragonborn." He said with a smile as Lucius approached, standing up, and showing off his ornate Ancient Falmer armour, a sword that looked to be made of pure ice at his hip. "I believe you have met the rest of the castle inhabitants."

"Met them and been shunned by them in the space of five minutes." Lucius replied simply, and Gelebor shook his head.

"Don't judge them too harshly. Prince Mirtil's family wandered Tamriel for centuries disguised as Dark Elves. They used magic and ash to blend in while living in Morrowind, but when they tried to return to Skyrim they were hunted down by Nord soldiers. He had to watch almost all of his family die or be captured by Nord hunting parties."

"How did they survive so long then?"

Gelebor sighed. "Most of the Snow Elves living here now came from holdouts in old Ayelid or Nordic ruins. An unlucky few, like Prince Mirtil, were forced to live in the ruins of the ancient Dwemer cities."

Lucius' eyes widened at the Snow Elf's words. "You mean that he and his family…?"

Gelebor shook his head sadly. "His family were all dead by then. Many died from disease or starvation when they had to live in the wilderness but as far as I can tell many of them simply gave up and ended it all… Mirtil lived in the remains of the city of Mzulft for centuries, fighting the Betrayed and the few crazed automatons left behind by their masters. He has more reason to be paranoid than anybody else. If it wasn't for the mutual assistance pact we made with the Dawnguard when we moved in here- we cleanse the castle and stop any remnants of the Volkhair Clan from returning, they patrol the area around here and stop anybody getting too close- we would have been dead already."

"But why stay here?" Lucius asked, his own curiosity about the Snow Elf remnants temporarily overriding any thoughts of his dreams meaning. "Surely the Chantry is more secluded and hidden away?"

"If we could, I would have taken every last Snow Elf into the Chantry's walls." Gelebor replied. "But the reason I came here was to seek aid against the Betrayed. I even brought the Bow and Shield of Auri-El with me because I feared that the magical wards I placed on the Chantry wouldn't keep them out for long. I would have asked for your help in clearing the Betrayed out of the Vale but I fear you must have something more important on your mind, or else you would have come here sooner and looking less distressed."

Lucius nodded slowly. "The Second Great War against the Aldmeri Dominion happened." He said simply. "If your Aldmeri cousins weren't busy trying to wrest control of Morrowind and battling the Imperial Navy off the coast of Cyroddil I would have come sooner to see your little enclave."

"If things are so bad out there…" Gelebor said with a raised eyebrow. "Why are you here now?"

Lucius paused, hearing the gentle patter of water and the sound of the door at the back of the room creaking slightly ajar, before he sighed and said simply, feeling slightly foolish for saying those same four words again and again. "The Dwemer have returned."

If Gelebor was surprised, he didn't show it. Instead he only looked mournful and turned to look up at the statue of Auri-El, as if seeking some kind of divine inspiration like Lucius had received.

"I guess I always thought that all their technology and power wouldn't let something as simple as wiping themselves from existence stop them. I never encountered them in the flesh when they walked in Tamriel all those eras ago, my service to the Chantry kept me away from their cities and fortresses. But I've heard Prince Mirtil's stories, of the Dwemer's honour and bravery, but also their cruelty and reckless disregard for anyone except their own race. They even had their own term in Dwemeris, their language, for non-Dwemer. Kar-Din- lesser races." He added with a look of disdain crossing his face.

Gelebor turned to look at Lucius again, putting a hand to his forehead as if trying to calm himself down from some unseen rage inside him. "But why do you need to specifically speak to the Snow Elves about this? Our great armies of gleaming blades and strong shields are gone, all but one of our fortresses is buried underneath ancient Nord barrows and tombs. How can a near extinct race help you fight against the might of the Dwemer?"

Lucius shook his head sadly. "I didn't come for military aid. I came for spiritual aid. While I slept I received a vision from the Daedra."

"Which one of those foul creatures spoke to you?" Gelebor said warily and Lucius shrugged before saying.

"All of them…"

At this point Lucius saw Gelebor's hand instinctively go to the sword at his waist, and quickly continued speaking.

"They told me that I was to be their champion- to destroy the Dwemer race for eternity. But then… another came. Akatosh, in the form of a towering dragon made of fire. He scattered the Daedra and then he spoke to me, telling me that if the Daedra destroyed the Dwemer, then all would be lost. I just don't understand and I figured that someone who has spent his entire life serving Akatosh, or Auri-El, or whatever name the Chief of the Divines goes by, should know what to do…"

The Snow Elf nodded slowly. "I must admit I am not exactly knowledgeable on the prophecy of the Dragonborn, but I have spent many centuries meditating on the different incarnations of Akatosh, both Man and Mer. You say he appeared in the form of a dragon, burning in holy fire? I read much on the avatar of Akatosh that appeared in the Oblivion Crisis and other instances of the burning dragon and have found that the dragon of fire is very much the preferred form of Akatosh when he faces other deities. Had the setting been more peaceful he would have most likely appeared as a humanoid figure with the head of a dragon and that of a man."

The Imperial nodded quickly. "Yes of course. But what is this balance that must be upheld and Akatosh seemed to be speaking of?"

"It is widely believed by religious scholars who look at the gods as more than just a bargaining tool or way to better themselves, that there is some kind of cosmic balance out there in Aetherius, that, for all the gods, the Aedra, Daedra and another entities, there is a general peace of sorts between them. The Oblivion Crisis that ended the Third Era is one of the few examples of this balance between Aedra and Daedra being broken, and I trust you understand the magnitude of what happened there? Had Martin Septim and his champion not halted the plans of Mehrunes Dagon, Oblivion and Nirn would have been thrown together like wrecked ships on a stormy sea, and would have destroyed each other in the process. I believe that what Akatosh, or Auri-El, or whatever you wish to call him, is trying to tell you is, that there are some deep and powerful forces readying themselves for this war, and that whatever is going to happen, you, the Dragonborn, must make sure that not only is peace restored to Tamriel, but that the gods themselves do not destroy themselves in the process. As for the destruction of the Dwemer, have you ever read up on the histories of the races that were 'lost'? The Dwemer, the Ayelids, the…Snow Elves. When a race is simply wiped from existence or descends into such savagery and bestiality that it seems impossible to redeem, there are serious consequences both for the material world and the heavens. When the Dwemer disappeared the Chimer race was lost with them. When the Ayelids descended into Daedra worshipping savagery, it is said that the stars themselves seemed to fall from the sky, seemed to weep for their fallen worshippers. Tamriel is in chaos enough already without this kind of strange events happening."

Lucius took a deep breath, covering his face with his hands and sitting down heavily on the cold stone steps at his feet, his cloak billowing out around him. "I…" he began, then shook his head. "I…I don't know if I can do this. Until a few years ago I was just a man from the Imperial City looking to make his fortune in Skyrim. I've battled dragons, vampires and the armies of the Thalmor but this…" he said, throwing a hand out to indicate the rom before him, and the statue of Auri El to his right. "This talk of cosmic balances and a war between the Daedra and the Dwemer. I just, I can't do it… Give me an enemy I can see, that will stand toe to toe with me on a battlefield and I'll take them down or die trying. But against the Daedra? And for some reason I have to stop two seemingly irredeemable groups from wiping each other out for the sake of some cosmic balance? How am I mean to fight against one while the other is trying to kill both me and the one I myself am battling against? Sometimes Gelebor, sometimes I just wish I wasn't the Dragonborn. That I was really just some oddball from Cyroddil and not the man who has to clean up the collective cosmic shit of this world until I breathe my last. That's why I always seem to never take things seriously, why my campaign tent with the Legion had piles of loot from my adventures and random things from my travels not boring old maps and supply manifestos. That's why my house in Solitude is more like a tavern for friends from my travels not some kind of temple to my cosmic 'father' Akatosh. I always figured that maybe if I actually tried to stay as far away from that old cliché of the strong and silent hero who saves the world on a daily basis and does nothing else, I wouldn't go mad or break down like…like this I guess." He added with a grim smile.

Gelebor looked down at Lucius with a sympathetic but distant look on his face. "Sometimes Dra- Lucius." He corrected himself quickly. "Sometimes we just have to admit that maybe the reason the Divines placed us on this mortal plane is not for our own selfish desires. The Divines only know what our true potential and destiny is. But if no one can stop the Dwemer and the Daedra tearing the world apart, what kind of hero of mankind and son of Auri-El are you truly? What kind of saviour only saves the people around him when he feels like it? When the Betrayed stormed the Chantry all that time ago, did I just stand idly by and watch my brothers be slaughtered? Did I even think for a second why it had to be me? No. I picked up my sword and I led the Knight Paladins of Auri-El into battle one last time. And though the Knights of Auri-El may be dead I still recognise an honourable fight when I see one. And that is why I pledge my sword to your cause Dragonborn, and to that of Auri-El."

And with that the Snow Elf dropped to his knees, drawing his sword and laying it across his palms, offering it in the ancient gesture of friendship and loyalty.

Lucius' eyes widened at the Snow Elf's forward actions. It must have taken a supreme amount of courage to basically pledge himself to revealing his race's continuing existence to those who might hunt them down, and he respected Gelebor, both as a warrior and a scholar, to trust that he was indeed doing the right thing.

Just as he was about to accept Gelebor's proposal, he heard another voice echoing across the empty cathedral, a proud voice which he instantly recognised, even though he had only heard it once.

"Who said the Knights of Auri-El were dead, Gelebor?"

As one the Imperial and the Snow Elf turned, to see the smirking form of Prince Mirtil, the slender Snow Elf leaning casually against a pillar across the room, arms folded.

"How long have you been here?" Lucius asked warily and Mirtil shrugged, relaxing his arms and tapping his chin with one snow white finger.

"Long enough to know two things. The Dwemer have returned, and the Knights of Auri-El must march out to battle them this time, not try and make deals like our cowardly predecessors."

"Are you saying…?" Lucius began but Mirtil interrupted him quickly.

"Don't think I'm doing this for your benefit, outsider. The Snow Elves have hidden in the darkness for too long, scared of the Deep Elves and Nords alike. When we march out in force we will at least show them that, though our numbers may be a fraction of what thy one were, we are not afraid anymore."

He turned, seeing Lucius and Gelebor's shocked expressions. "What are you staring at? If you want my warriors help you could at least show some gratitude. Now…outsider, where are we heading?"

Lucius nodded slowly before he spoke. "Whiterun. We ride for Whiterun. High King Balgruuf must be informed, and the armies of Skyrim must be ready for battle."