A/N: Hello everyone! Thank you for reading Dragon Crisis! It's been a while and I'm sorry but here's chapter five! The story is getting more and more complicated and you will see more of the other OCs. Originally, the Destiny Unraveled series was supposed to revolve around a group of friends from different backgrounds and of different races but as I started to work on the first book, Ziiah took the spotlight. Now, I want to bring the other characters into the story, bit by bit. I would also like to give a special shoutout to spiceflower1 for leaving an honest review - I'm glad to hear that you like the story so far! Anyway, thank you again and I hope you'll like chapter five! As always, follow/favorite/review! I welcome constructive criticism only.
DRAGON CRISIS
Destiny Unraveled
V
8th of Sun's Dawn, 4E 203
Eat, work, sleep, repeat.
That was the life summary of Windhelm's dockworkers, primarily the refugees from mainland Morrowind and Blackmarsh. Dunmers managed to receive accolades for their services and the Nord overlords would grant them managing positions in their establishments. Argonians, on the other hand, were treated as scum. Segregated outside the city, the natives of Argonia were forced to endure harsh Skyrim weather while battling the vicious currents of the Sea of Ghosts. Not to mention, with the ongoing civil war and the appearance of dragons, the situation was getting even worse for those unlucky enough to find themselves working at Windhelm's docks.
"Have you heard?" the guards whispered among themselves. "The Dragonborn - in Whiterun."
"We are saved," the other guard exclaimed. "The Dragonborn will join Ulfric and drive those filthy Imperials away from here."
Standing close to the excited guardsmen was an Argonian woman. Small in stature and weak, she most often went unnoticed by the guardsmen. She did her chores to the latter and never complained about the harsh environment she and the others were exposed to. When the Nords were being grumpy and aggressive, she just worked harder. At times, she was apprehended in the alleys and behind the ship's cargo; she counted the days when she was only bruised as lucky ones. On other days, she would pray the men ravaging her would drop dead in the sea, never to be seen or heard of again. Alas, as an Argonian living in Windhelm, Tashhee long gave up on the hope that her life would become different and when she heard the Nords clamoring and worshipping their new hero, she couldn't resist spitting on the ground when no one was looking.
Ziiah came to regret stepping foot outside the monastery. Winter's chilly breath picked up during the few weeks she had been secluded at High Hrothgar and the descent to Ivarstead was more treacherous than the pilgrimage up the steps. Luckily, Arngeir gave her some thick shawls and hats for her to take on her journey back to the valley. You will need it, his words echoed inside her head. Sighing, she rushed down the stone steps, careful not to slip and fall. Easier said than done as she slipped at least a dozen times and almost broke her ankle twice or thrice. By the time she reached Iverstead, she was bruised all over her knees, buttocks, arms, and shoulders. She tried to ease the throbbing injuries with healing magic however the cold was affecting her concentration. I need to warm up first, she thought as she rubbed her arms. Rushing across the bridge, Ziiah turned left toward the Vilemyr Inn. Stomping off the snow from her boots, she opened the door and walked inside the tavern. Once she closed the door, Ziiah was startled when someone slammed against her and pulled her into a tight embrace. She quickly realized that it was Kaani. Your friends are waiting for you, she remembered.
"Hello to you too," Ziiah said, returning the hug. "So, you stuck around."
Kaani broke the embrace and looked her straight in the eyes. "That didn't sound like a question."
Ziiah sighed before smiling. "It's complicated."
"Isn't everything?" Kaani asked, scoffing.
Ziiah chuckled but said nothing else. Instead, she looked past Kaani's shoulder and saw two familiar men. Ziiah was uncertain whom she felt more uncomfortable with; Orc Companion who held a grudge against her or Bosmer noble who had a few screws loose in his head? Kaani noticed her friend staring and when she turned around, she knew why. Loro was dressed in his armor and he held his hand firmly atop his sword pommel. His eyes were narrowed as he looked at Ziiah. On the other hand, Tarhrin was dressed in comfortable and warm clothes, and he was seemingly in good spirits. What stunned Kaani - and Loro, to a certain degree - was the way Tarhrin approached Ziiah as if they'd known each other.
"I honestly believed you would visit me first," Tarhrin chuckled, "and yet, here I am - tracking you down, again."
Ziiah frowned. Could the Mad God have some plan in all of this as well? she thought as she searched for any sign of deceit on Tarhrin's face and person.
"You're far from home, Thane Tarhrin," Ziiah said slowly. "What are you doing here?"
Tarhrin was silent for a moment, taking in her appearance. He expected to see the lost and naive but stubborn girl he had met in Solitude merely a year ago. He still remembered her tattered armor, buckled up from the neck to the tip of her toes. She wore a similar outfit only replaced with dark, almost black leather. She was the personification of darkness, moving with the shadows as one. The flickering light of the candles and firepit barely touched her, bouncing off in the other direction. She wasn't even being coy with him, playing with words and manipulating the situation to her advantage. She was simply standing there, unamused. Perhaps the most frightening difference between the girl he met and the woman that stood before him was her eyes; golden orbs that had once glistened with secret joy had become mudded and empty.
Tarhrin smiled nevertheless for he was truly happy to see her, whether she trusted him or not. "On business, so to speak."
Ziiah hummed but said nothing to him, looking instead at Loro who stood next to him. "And you, Companion? Are you on business as well?"
The Orc murmured something under his breath before answering, "Yes."
Ziiah quirked a brow. "My, such diligent lads. Whoever sent you must be proud."
Kaani cut in, "I take it you know Thane Tarhrin?"
"You could say that," Ziiah said evenly, offering a sour smile. "Deadra worshippers are quite common these days, it appears."
When she said that, both Kaani and Loro snapped their heads toward the Bosmer, eyeing him with anticipation. Tarhrin, however, remained poised and somewhat amused. There you are, he thought, realizing that he'd misjudged Ziiah's demeanor too soon.
"That was a low blow," Tarhrin said with a chuckle. "I rather grew fond of being the spying Elf."
Ziiah scoffed. "You, a spy?"
"You wound me, fair lady," Tarhrin said before smirking, "or should I say, lady Dragonborn?"
Ziiah frowned. "Watch it, Elf. I'm sure you heard what a single Shout can do."
Normally, the threats wouldn't alarm anyone present, mainly because everyone present had grown accustomed to receiving threats of varying intensity. However, something about her tone resonated with them; they knew that the person before them shouldn't be tested. With that said, Tarhrin raised his hands in defeat.
"I understand," he said. "I beg your pardon."
Ziiah nodded in return, much to their surprise. Kaani was taken aback most of all, mainly because of how calm her friend appeared to be, regardless if she was threatening or polite. Soon, you will be a force to be reckoned with, she thought suddenly, if you're not one already.
"You're all here because of me," Ziiah suddenly said, "aren't you?"
A short moment of silence ensued before they all nodded.
Ziiah sighed. "Well? Out with it."
Kaani looked at Tarhrin who nodded back at her. The Khajiit then turned to Ziiah again, leaning in closer and whispering into her ear.
"The political situation in Skyrim has escalated," Ziiah heard her say. "Titus II Mede is dead."
Ziiah was silent for a moment. "...Okay. And?"
The evenness of her tone wasn't as shocking as Kaani thought it would otherwise be. "Well, your presence is instrumental in this whole thing."
"It is?" Ziiah asked with a hint of sarcasm. "What can I do about it? Choose a new Emperor?"
Kaani frowned. "This is serious, Ziiah."
"I am serious," Ziiah said honestly. "The death of the Emperor may sound catastrophic but it isn't."
Tarhrin was intrigued by her statement and he further inquired about her opinion, "What makes you say that?"
Ziiah looked at Tarhrin, "If I had to choose between saving the politics of Tamriel or saving Tamriel from dragons, I think you already know my answer."
Tarhrin chuckled, while Loro scoffed. Kaani was unnerved by Ziiah's words, even though she saw sense and reason in what the girl was saying.
"So, you won't be going back to Whiterun?" Kaani asked.
"Whiterun?" Ziiah asked. "I'm going back to Riften."
"Riften?!" Kaani cried out before realizing the rest of the inn was giving them strange looks.
"Why Riften?" Tarhrin asked, quietly.
Ziiah sighed. "I've done what I set out to do and now I'm going home, to my father."
A short silence followed. Kaani had a hard time reading her friend's face. Her gut told her something was off but her eyes saw nothing but conviction in Ziiah.
"Well, I guess that's it," Tarhrin said. "This is where we part."
"It is?" both Loro and Kaani asked.
"Well, I don't like Riften," Tarhrin said, fixing his coat, "or any city that is so close to putrid wastewater. I prefer the finer cities."
"We were supposed to bring her back to Whiterun," Loro said low and threateningly after grabbing the Elf's arm.
"You can fight her if you want," Tarhrin said just as low. "I doubt she'll come quietly."
Loro frowned. "This wasn't the plan."
"Plans change," Tarhrin said before turning back to Ziiah. "Loro and I will return to Whiterun to report back to Balgruuf."
"Balgruuf sent you?" Ziiah asked. "He doesn't seem the type to shadow people."
"I beg to differ," Tarhrin commented but quickly switched the topic. "In any case, I wish you good luck, Lady Ziiah."
"...Godspeed, Thane Tarhrin," Ziiah said hesitantly and the two men were on their way, offering merely a nod before they left the inn.
Sighing, Ziiah's posture relaxed and she looked at her friend, the weariness in her eyes obvious. Kaani frowned, confused by the sudden change in Ziiah. What's up with this girl? Kaani thought frustratingly.
"Was I convincing?" Ziiah asked with an exasperated voice. "Doesn't matter; they left and that's good enough for me."
Kaani was silent, further confused.
Ziiah chuckled. "You have no idea what just happened."
"None," Kaani said, shaking her head from side to side.
Ziiah chuckled again before urging her friend to sit down at the nearest table.
Outside the inn, Loro glared at Tarhrin.
"She lied," Loro said, "and you knew it."
"Of course," Tarhrin said, almost offended. "What do you take me for?"
A fool, Loro thought before saying, "I meant that you played along."
"Whatever Ziiah's plan was, she didn't trust us enough to disclose it to us," Tarhrin said. "That's why I played along."
"To lure her into a false sense of security?" Loro guessed.
"To remind her that we're not her enemies," Tarhrin emphasized.
"So now what?" Loro asked.
Tarhrin smirked. "Simple - we follow her."
Loro resisted the urge to inquire further about the Elf's plan. He could already tell that he wouldn't like it.
The Thalmor Embassy was looming over the city of Solitude like a wicked shadow from which monsters lurked. Its dominating visage amongst the snowy peaks of Haafingar was the center point that anyone could see from the main road below. Despite its obvious presence, little to nothing was known about the Embassy. There were no noises, no sounds - nothing that could disturb the quiet winter ambiance. Local farmers expected flashes of colors to erupt from the place - since Thalmor are Elves and therefore, mages. A similar logic was used by the traveling caravans and city guards. However, the notorious establishment was mostly quiet, mirroring a haunted castle or abandoned fortress.
Gazing from the top of her apartment at the Embassy was Elenwen, High Ambassador to Skyrim and liaison between the Aldmeri Dominion and the Northern province. With a mesmerizing beauty and an even deadlier repertoire of abilities, Elenwen was a force to be reckoned with. The Elf toppled the lesser Men and Elves, crushing any who would oppose her with grace and elegance fit for a queen. She was a powerful woman and influential woman, and she knew it. However, powerful as she may be, she never felt ashamed for succumbing to primitive needs of intimacy and comfort. Whenever her nights turned lonelier than usual, she would allow a certain Agent in her ranks to keep her company. Kaelan Aedus was a Special Agent in the Thalmor forces, specifically trained for espionage and headhunting. His career resume was stellar and with it, he ensured himself a singular spot in Ambassador's heart. Though she would never openly admit it, Elenwen cared for the man in a way.
"Septim for your thoughts?" she heard him ask, still laying on the bed while she stood near the windowsill.
Elenwen chuckled. "I'm not distraught. Do not suggest otherwise."
"I never did," Kaelan said, pushing away the coverings. "You've just been quiet for a while, that's all."
Elenwen was silent again. In truth, she was thinking about the rumors of the so-called Dragonborn that's been 'discovered' in Whiterun Hold. Though she abhorred the Nordic culture, she still made sure to have some decent knowledge of it and what she knew about the Dragonborn legend was unnerving at best - catastrophic at worst. Sighing, she pinched the bridge of her nose before rubbing away the tiredness from her eyes. Suddenly, she felt a pair of arms circle around her waist, holding her in a tight embrace. Relaxing into the warmth, she held Kaelan's hands in her own, entwining their fingers.
"What's wrong?" he asked, kissing the nape of her neck.
Elenwen hesitated to answer. "This Dragonborn…Their appearance is most inopportune."
Kaelan frowned. "I admit, it took us by the surprise but what can one person do against the Thalmor?"
Elenwen laughed drily. "You do realize our greatest threat is Ulfric Stormcloak?"
Kaelan bit his tongue; he did know that. He witnessed Ulfric's power during the man's liberation of Markarth. In all his existence, Kaelan had never witnessed anything similar to it. If the rumors were true, the Dragonborn was even stronger. Elenwen is wise to fear the Dragonborn's power, he thought but didn't voice his opinion.
"I say," he said, kissing her neck again, "we forget about that tonight and focus on something else."
"And that would be…?" she asked but never got an answer as Kaelan captured her lips in a passionate kiss, one that lasted for the remainder of the night…
Meanwhile, in Solitude, the night was beginning to take a turn for the worse as the merriment ceased when the topics shifted from women and fucking to politics. The Winking Skeever was hosting the argument and it stood witness to a definitive divide between the supporters of the rebellion and the imperial loyalists. Curses and insults were thrown left and right, each one more gruesome and descriptive than the last. In the midst of it all, two men were sitting at a table in the far corner of the inn, quietly observing the escalating fight.
"Should we pipe in?" said one of them. "Relive the old memories?"
The other one rolled his eyes. "Like the one where I broke your nose?"
"I was thinking of the one where I dislocated your jaw," the first one countered.
"You're a real piece of work, Veilheim," the second one scoffed.
"Likewise, Nyx," Veilheim smiled before taking a swig of mead from his tankard.
The pair watched fish and various vegetables fly across the tavern, mixed with bottles and tankards. The entire scene would've been amusing if it weren't sad. One side claimed that the Empire was weak, and the other swore by the Divines that the Empire was their salvation. Where one would clamor behind Ulfric's last name, the other would proudly reveal their old imperial helmet or sword. So it went, on and on, until finally there was nothing left to say or throw around. The alcohol kicked in and the tavern fell silent as its customers lulled to sleep. Sometime before sunrise, both Veilheim and Nyx left the inn, realizing there was nothing left for them to make fun of.
"I forgot how funny the soldiers could be," Veilheim commented.
"I forgot how stupid the rebels could be," Nyx said with a smirk on his lips.
"Did you say something, Imperial dog?" Veilheim jested.
"I don't know, did I?" Nyx went along, adding, "Your accent is so thick I can barely understand it."
Veilheim laughed at his friend, genuinely amused. If someone had told him years ago that he would be fraternizing with a sworn enemy, he would've probably spat into that someone's face before breaking their bones one by one with his bare hands. After all, as a Stormblade - a title bequeathed by Ulfric to his generals - Veilheim was the epitome of Imperial bane. Yet, when he met Nyx on Solstheim after being disappointed by Ulfric, Veilheim found a kindred spirit and a true friend in the man who himself was exiled and stripped of his Penitus Oculatus arms. Ever since the two ridiculed the ongoing conflict and spat on both sides of the war.
"You know what?" Veilheim asked suddenly. "Why don't we leave Solitude already? It's been a year and we've made zero progress so far."
"Where are we supposed to go?" Nyx asked. "Back to Solstheim? I take it you'll tell Neloth that we've failed in finding Elvaynu."
"Well, it won't be unexpected," Veilheim commented. "The man already deemed us unworthy of even breathing in his presence."
Nyx sighed. "Why did we agree to this in the first place?"
"Because it gave us the excuse to not watch Neloth every day?" Veilheim jested.
Nyx chuckled before hugging his friend. "How about Morthal? I hear they have an Orc for a bard."
Veilheim stared in utter shock. "You're shitting me?"
Nyx smirked as they made their way out of town, heading toward the marsh. However, as they were passing by the watchguard, they overheard a piece of their conversation and a certain sentence sparked their interest.
"Did you hear?" one of them asked. "The Emperor's been assassinated."
"That was a ruse," the other one replied. "They sent a double to stand in for the Emperor and caught the assassin. The Brotherhood was eradicated."
"No, no," the first one cut in. "This was the real one. The assassin snuck onto the Katariah and slit the Emperor's throat."
Quietly, the two friends looked at each other. Both of them knew what this meant and both of them feared the worst.
"Where was Penitus Oculatus?" the other guardsman asked with a hint of sarcasm. "They are supposed to protect the Emperor."
Nyx frowned.
"The assassin killed anyone who stood in their way," the first one replied.
"Do they know their name?" the second one asked. "What do they look like?"
"No one knows," the first one sighed. "This will reflect on the war."
"No shit."
Having heard more than either of them wanted, Nyx and Veilheim quickly walked through the Solitude gates and made their way toward Hjalmaarch.
