AN: About time I posted this. Hope you enjoy :D
Morgan groaned as the tentacles that had bound her suddenly retracted back into the Book, and she barely managed to cling onto Serana as she tried to regain her bearings. Spitting out a few curses for good measure, she locked eyes with her bond mate.
"That was disgusting."
Serana gave a typical smile at the comment and helped Morgan stand upright, keeping an arm around her waist.
"It is not a pleasant experience, but we have some information at the very least."
Morgan nodded.
"Strange place to hide in. I caught glimpses of it when I read the Infinium. But to see it and experience it...I almost wished he rotted there."
"You vanished! Well, not entirely, you went almost transparent. I never imagined that a vampire looked so dead on the inside."
Morgan cursed again. She had forgotten about the loudmouthed mercenary and the Skaal warrior. She glared at Teldryn, who shrugged, and met the eyes of Frea, who was looking pale and was sweating profusely.
"It was wrong. No magic from the All-Maker would do that... to twist magic into something so unnatural."
Serana shook her head as Morgan was about to vent and settled the forthcoming outburst by gripping her hand and keeping eye contact with Frea.
"We need to leave. By using that Book, Miraak will know where we are and could send reinforcements. Where is your village?"
Frea blinked a few times before replying.
"This way. I can feel a cold wind from this tunnel."
Supporting a weak dragonborn, Serana nodded and followed Frea through the tunnel, noting that Teldryn's eyes never strayed from either her or Morgan.
He felt them coming from a few hundred yards away. All four souls had very distinct sensations and emotions coursing through them.
Channeling a little more power into the spell that was keeping them safe from the storm that battered the village of the Skaal, he focused a little harder, to be sure that these were not just another band of Reavers.
There was his daughter. Proud. Strong. Eager to prove herself, yet also eager to learn of not only the other customs of the Skaal, but those of what lay beyond the valleys, far from the eyes of the All-Maker. He smiled and moved to the next one.
Interesting. A mercenary yet one that retained a code of ethics and morals. He reeked of gold but also of sadness and regret. Emotions he buried beneath layers of sarcasm and false anger. He was boisterous but deep down, this man was a noble soul and was not a threat to the Skaal.
Then he moved to the third and for the first time he could recall, he wondered if his focus was not as strong as he thought it was. Because this soul was old. Older than that of his village. Older than most of Solstheim itself. There was great power in her, a darkness that she shielded from all others. For fear of it escaping and the fear it could consume her.
Then he felt himself being forced away and he smiled. This one was dangerous, but she was merely protecting herself for the time being. She wished no harm on anyone, with the exception of those that wished to harm those she cared about.
He focused on the last one and felt the urge to flee the second his mind connected with hers. Or rather more accurately, theirs. It was not one soul here, but hundreds. All of them screaming, roaring a language he couldn't identify. These voices were older still than that of the third traveler, as old as Time itself. And they were all dominated by the soul that presided over the rest.
Raw, savage power. An instinct to destroy. To kill. To dominate. A darkness hidden inside a small female human that was rapidly becoming more angered at the world, and the people that had treated her with distaste. He tried to focus on her, and was met with a darkness that peered into his own soul, forcing him into the very depths of his own mind.
And in that darkness, he heard her voice.
"Do not peer into the darkness. For the darkness will swallow you whole."
Storn Crag-Strider opened his eyes and shivered, although it was not the cold that bothered him. It was the darkness that was walking towards them, a mixture of suffering and anger that threatened to devour them all.
Frea beamed as the village appeared in the snowstorm, and she eagerly 'helped' the others towards their destination, smiling as the magical warding's helped soothe her mind and body from the outside world. She spotted her father kneeling in the snow and hurried forwards, grasping his hand and smiling at him.
"I return, father."
Storn smiled at his daughter and let his gaze on the three visitors.
There was the mercenary, his eyes roaming at the village and the magical spell that was currently protecting them from the dark magics at work. He wouldn't be an issue, although he would be keeping an eye on him. He hoped he wasn't another thief, they had enough of those to deal with as it was.
There was the ancient one. She must have felt him looking at her, because she instantly met eye contact and narrowed her eyes a little when she noted he never reacted to her eye colour. He then ignored her and stiffened when he met the eyes of the last being.
Because she was staring at him, twin fangs appearing in a smile as she walked closer, stopping a few feet away from him.
"I met them at Miraaks Temple, father. They claim to have met him."
Storn raised his eyebrows and stood up, nodding to his daughter in thanks as she sat in his place and focused her magic into retaining the shielding spells. He never moved an inch closer to these dangerous women... or more accurately, the undying. He knew what they were now. Their magic was strong, but the All-Maker had given him enough to know what he was dealing with.
"So how does it come to pass, that a mercenary and two souls that know Death too well, come to the village of the Skaal?"
He was a little unnerved to see a twin plume of smoke burst from the shorter woman's nostrils, and was glad that the older one answered him.
"We seek the Betrayer, Miraak."
"You know of the Betrayer? His story is as old as the land itself. From a time when ancient beings ruled the land under blood and tyranny. He is..."
"Hold on, this storm is pissing me off."
He blinked at the rude interruption, and was about to continue when she stared into the sky, took a deep breath (although he knew that she was no breathing in the slightest), and bellowed into the sky.
"LOK VAH KOOR!"
Storn Crag-Strider had seen many things over the decades. From the unnatural werebears, to the undead draugr that occasionally awoke from their slumber. But someone that could bend the will of the skies to their own will was something he hadn't experienced. And he didn't like it either. He stared at the short undead woman as she smiled at her handiwork, the winds dying down and the snow vanishing from sight, and he bit his lower lip.
What were the chances?
"Two Dragonborns at one time? I know, it's disconcerting to say the least."
He snapped his gaze back to the ancient one, who smirked at him.
"A door that is opened one way can be opened from the other side. And by the way, its rude to wonder about a woman's age," Serana said with a fanged grin. "Perhaps we should sit down, this may take some time."
Storn nodded and gestured to the others to sit down, his gaze never leaving those of the tall vampire before him. He had been incorrect in his initial impressions. This one was just as dangerous as the other. And from the knowing smile that the ancient one was giving him, she knew what he was thinking too.
Morgan sat down and sipped from the bottled blood, letting Serana explain their reasons for coming here. She didn't trust this man. He had tried to enter her mind, and if Serana hadn't told her through their Bond, she wouldn't have known about it. He was old, but his mind was quick and just from a single inhalation, she detected he held great magical power and was still as fit as he would have been in his youth.
She simply sat there and listened to Serana's soft voice as she talked, and Morgan allowed her mind to wander. She thought back to Miraak, and at how indifferent he had been to her. He had kicked her twice, and she was eager to show him what a vampiric kick was like. But his voice was something else.
It held power.
Miraak knew what he was, and what his potential was. She didn't, and that was concerning. Yes, she had defeated the World Eater, but she had barely survived afterwards. If it hadn't been for Lydia carrying her down the mountain from High Hrothgar, and hadn't tended to her wounds as she had been transported in sheets of blood back to Whiterun, she wouldn't be here today.
And she hadn't defeated Alduin alone either. It had taken the combined efforts of herself, and three of the most powerful users of the Voice to shatter Alduin's Snare and bring down the demigod afterwards. And while Gormlaith and the rest hadn't suffered any injury in the Nordic afterlife, she had returned to Tamriel with a shattered leg, broken ribs and at least a punctured lung.
She had been lucky, and she knew it.
And Miraak had pretty much confirmed it at their first meeting. He had downed herself and Serana simultaneously and had barely made any effort in doing so. Perhaps it was because he was living in the realm of...
"Fuck."
Serana had finished explaining everything, ad was waiting for the village Shaman to respond, when her love had uttered one of her more favourite curse words. Up until now, Storn had been wary and was at least willing to listen to her, but the moment Morgan had returned from her musings and had broken the silence that followed, Serana knew that this wasn't going to end well.
"You wish to speak? Dragonborn?"
Morgan glared at the old man.
"Not particularly," she replied in dovahzul, nudging Serana's midriff with her elbow.
"Two Dragonborns. Never has such a thing occurred, to my knowledge. Two beings on a course to destruction and strife. You cannot deny what you are, young one. You are, after all, a taker of lives."
Morgan stiffened. He knew.
She was half tempted to just kill them all, just for the twisted pleasure of it, only for Serana to gently take her hand in hers.
"My love, do not let the blood control you. Nor that of the dragon."
Morgan closed her eyes and allowed Serana into her mind. It was the only way for her to understand what she had come to realise.
Serana smiled as she wrapped her arms around her love.
They stood in a land of darkness. There was no light, only themselves. No Volkihar blood urges, no dragon souls' hell bent on destruction. There was just two people that had been given new life when they hadn't asked for it. Two people who held the fates of millions in their hands once more.
"I'm glad you did this," Morgan muttered. "Remind me to thank your mother in a thousand years when she may like me for suggesting this."
Serana chuckled. Morgans idea of linking their minds like this was not a good start to earning her mother's admiration. But it had earned her respect. Valerica had said it was possible for them to share their minds instantly through their bonding, but had warned more than once that such bonds were draining to maintain.
Until Morgan had suggested using the infinite power that the dragon souls within her provided. They had been devoured, yet retained their knowledge and magical power. And because they were immune to Time, the spell needed would matter little, for an infinite magical pool meant an infinite source to draw upon.
Both had agreed that it was to be used sparingly, to share knowledge that had to be kept from everyone else, including loved ones and family. This was their ultimate secret
"What's wrong, little dragon?" Serana said as she kissed her love on the lips.
"Miraak is in Apocrypha. The Oghma Infinium and that Book. You know as well as I do that they belong to one certain Daedric Prince."
Serana nodded.
"Hermaeus Mora," Serana replied with a tight smile. "And you are his current Champion. I can see why this concerns you my love."
Morgan nodded.
"If I am his current Champion, then why allow Miraak to reside in his plane of Oblivion?"
Serana shook her head.
"I don't know, but we need more information. And Storn is the only one who could provide it. Or would you rather have us ask that mage, Neloth?"
Morgans look of distaste sent Serana into a giggle, and after a moment of silence, they returned to reality, hiding identical smiles as Storn gave them a dirty frown of disapproval before asking them for the inevitable favour.
Morgan sighed when he explained what he wanted and where they needed to go next. And to make things worse, Frea was instructed to stay at the village, which meant...
"My arse is getting numb. Can we get moving already? You aren't paying me enough to freeze my balls off," Teldryn said after a few minutes of silence.
Morgan scowled. Could things get any worse?
Justiciar Thendril smiled as he surveyed the ranks before him.
While they had been meddling with backroom politics when it came to Skyrim and the barbarians within, the barbarians had ceased their civil war, a plan that the Dominion had planned decades before, and were actually united as a country once more. He had asked for the invasion to take place for years, and while Elenwen had been more than happy to accept his request, her superior had not been as eager.
That same person was standing beside him, a condescending smile on his face.
Aranath was someone that should have been thrown into a pit of Sloads at the moment of his birth in Thendril's opinion. He had risen to second in command of the entire Thalmor regime in only twenty years, and had yet to exceed any level of mastering any of the arcane arts. Thendril knew his kind. He operated with gold, backstabbing and assassins.
The fact that he hadn't even bothered to concern himself about the deaths of Elenwen or Sulandril troubled him even more so. He had liked Elenwen, she had been polite and was always willing to listen to advice. Sulandril had been colder to him, but she had been focused on the training of the one person that should have been taken to Alinor as soon as she had been conceived.
Yet her death hadn't been avenged or investigated, and it was only on the order of Herself that this lazy toad was now standing beside him as they watched the legions of the Aldmeri Dominion congregate on the plains outside the Imperial City.
"Two entire battalions? Such a waste. One of these battalions could have helped topple the dwindling resistance in Hammerfell, a campaign that has dragged on for ten years too long, might I add. Is this truly necessary, Justiciar?"
Thendril nodded, knowing it would infuriate the simpleton standing next to him.
"Skyrim and it's people have proven that they are hardy, and they retain the knowledge of the land. We know we have the numbers but they have set up many fortifications, and from what few scouts have returned from pale pass, the mountains themselves are riddled with trolls, bears and even shambling skeletons. This will not be as easy as what our previous reports said, my lord."
Aranath curled his lip but bit back the retort, looking back at the tens of thousands of troops that were preparing for war. Even from their vantage point at the top of the White-Gold Tower, he could see the swarms of loyal servants of the Dominion as they marched and practiced.
"And what of the Dragonborn?"
Thendril smiled now. He could afford to seeing as his 'superior' would find this piece of news to his liking.
"She has travelled to the island of Solstheim. According to our reports, she was attacked in the open and her adopted children were nearly harmed. She set out the following day."
"So, if she were to stay there for a few weeks, she wouldn't get back in time to halt our advance with her trickery and pale imitations of magic," Aranath grinned.
Thendril fought the urge to smack the idiot.
"There are still dragons in Skyrim! Just because she left, doesn't mean the lizards did too."
Aranath chuckled.
"They will fall before the might of our archers. You have praised the Second Light in their skills with the bow for forty years. It would be a shame if they were to fail."
Thendril bristled at the barely hidden threat. He knew there was an added 'for you' at the end of that sentence.
"I have full confidence in the First and Second," he said proudly, having been a member of both for many decades apiece. "But if the Dragonborn were to return..."
Aranath smirked as he met eye contact at last with that of Justiciar Thendril.
"Oh, don't worry about her. As we speak, we have ten warships blockading Solstheim from anywhere else. I have also sent one of my most loyal subordinates, Ancarion, to the island as well. It is high time we learned of the method of mining and utilizing the frozen ice that is only found on that infernal ash heap. He has enough personnel and provisions to erase Raven Rock to dust if needed."
Thendril scowled as Aranath patted his shoulder in a mockery of respect.
"If you ever question me again, old man, I shall ensure that your two daughters are sent for reeducation and are treated as the whores that they are for the rest of their insignificant lives. Until then, you have your orders. I want Skyrim brought under the heel of the Dominion before the end of the month."
Thendril clenched his fist as the insufferable boy waltzed away. Herself had truly lost leave of her senses if she thought that boy was going to do the job. That meant he needed to being in a contingency plan into effect. Glancing to the side, he motioned for his fastest runner and pressed a cold coin into the urchins' hand.
"Do not stop for anyone boy. Travel to Cheydinhal and find the abandoned Dark Brotherhood Sanctuary, near the rotted house. You cannot miss it. Enter and if asked by the guards within, tell them that..."
"The light casts the darkest shadows," the young boy said without hesitation.
Thendril smiled. At least some of the inferior races could be helpful. The boy would be dead after entering the Sanctuary anyway. Dinya was not find of leaving loose ends after all.
He never noticed the shimmer that followed the boy.
That same shimmer travelled out of the city walls and into the wilderness, before entering an ancient Ayleid ruin, only stopping when three figures emerged from the darkness.
The shimmer vanished, to be replaced by a single Redguard male, who dropped to one knee and removed his black hood before staring at the red eyes that calmly waited for him to speak.
"Listener, I have news from the Imperial City."
Listener Lucinda Aurelius gave a savage grin. It was time to sow discord amongst the foolish elves.