23rd Sun's Dusk… 2200…

Snow fell continuously from the sky. The biting gale from the sea pushed the snow in smaller squalls around the ground, drifting it against the ruined buildings. The wind howled louder than he had ever heard in his years. The white-out conditions reduced his visibility to practically looking down at his feet as he walked. Everywhere he looked it was white.

Then he realized his mistake. By Talos, there's nothing left here…

Winterhold was desecrated. The old board buildings that once told the tale of a larger city were gone. The Jarl's longhouse, the tavern, peoples' homes… there was nothing. Even the hardy animals of the North were gone. Winterhold was nothing more than an ancient rumor. A city lost to the past and its story was carved on the pages of history.

Indaris pulled his fur cloak tight against his body as he shivered. He felt the storm even through his bear skins and that bothered him. He needed to find shelter before settling down for the night. His Nordic blood only provided so much resistance.

He let his feet follow the unfamiliar path past the old Longhouse. Someone placed a wreath against the stones… He looked around though the storm as he walked. For the first time he noticed large mounds looming along the new cliff line.

Indaris carefully made his way toward the largest mound. Black flags flittered in the harsh wind, denoting the place as sacred to the Divines and a burial ground. Someone cared enough to burn the bodies in the old ways…

One of the flags moved, catching Indaris by surprise. He drew his ancient Nordic Greatsword with haste.

"Hold, Warrior… I mean you no harm." Indaris let his sword lower, but didn't change his attack stance. "I am simply here to pay my respects to the dead and make offerings to the Divines on their behalf."

He wished he could see the man's face that spoke to him through the harshest of wind. For a moment he wondered how he could hear the man's voice so clearly.

"Who goes there?" Indaris shouted back as loudly as he could.

The black flag walked towards him and Indaris raised the greatsword back into a defensive position. He watched the small man's movements carefully as he approached.

The man held out his hand in an old Nordic custom to Indaris and he took it, letting the sword point drop to the snow.

"I am Tolfdir, Stormcloak. I know why you've come and…"

Indaris laughed. "I'm no Stormcloak, old man. I'm simply a traveler seeking shelter from the Gods' anger."

Tolfdir sized up the large Nord. "Come then, Friend. This storm is too mighty even for the heartiest Nord. There's no shelter nearby for miles, save for the old college."

"Lead the way, Tolfdir. I have no fear of magic."

Indaris pulled the bear-head hood from his head and followed Tolfdir as he walked to the kitchen.

"You must be cold, even with all your furs."

"Aye, that I am." Indaris watched the old mage pull his fur coat and gloves off. The man was ancient as a Draugr in his opinion. It made him smile, watching the smaller man shuffle to the mead cask and fill two mugs.

"What brings you to Winterhold? Or at least what's left of it?" Tolfdir handed him a mug and sat in a chair next to the cooking hearth.

The Nord shifted warily, but moved to the unoccupied chair that Tolfdir motioned him too. The old college suddenly seemed claustrophobic. "I was just passing through on my way to Whiterun."

The old mage studied him before responding. "I sense a bit of curiosity about the ongoings in our ancient city."

Indaris wouldn't lie, but he had no intention on telling the whole truth. The rumors in Eastmarch were not kind, but neither was the letter burning a hole in his bag. "I heard the storm destroyed Jarl Ulfric's Northern base." Indaris answered with a quiet voice.

"Word travels fast." The old Breton leveled him with a stern look.

Indaris bobbed his head in a simple gesture. "That it does, old one." He took a long drink of his mead, hoping no more question were filling the old mage's mind.

Tolfdir shifted in his chair to look at the younger Nord. "Except, I'm wondering how you would know this…"

Indaris looked from the fire to the mage. "What do you mean?"

"No one lived through that storm, young man. Only the Stormcloak scouts have been through here. I'm surprised that there is even so much as a rumor that Winterhold has been destroyed. We here at the college built the pyres for the dead. We provided the traditional offerings in the old ways to the Divines. I've sent mages to Solitude and Whiterun for aid." Tolfdir reached out and clasped Indaris' arm. The old man jumped and pulled his hand away. "By Akatosh…" The old mage was far spryer than Indaris imagined. He jumped to his feet and stared at him. "You were drawn here, weren't you?"

Indaris looked back at the fire. "I'm no mage, if that's what you are implying."

"My dear boy, you may not be a mage… but your gift is tangible." Tolfdir took a moment to gather his thoughts. "Young man… Indaris, you said you were on your way to Whiterun…?"

The Nord ran his hand through his long hair. "I am."

Tolfdir fidgeted nervously. "For what purpose?"

Indaris considered the old one for a moment. He knew of Azriel's ties with the college. The old mage struck him like the kind of man his grandfather was. Kind and caring, he could see it in his eyes. The fact that he had mistaken him for a Stormcloak didn't surprise him, just bothered him. He held no love for Ulfric Stormcloak, so he decided to show the old mage a bit of trust, hoping it wouldn't come back to haunt him later. "The same reason I came here first…" Indaris opened his bag and pulled the letter forth and handed it to Tolfdir.

~Aris~

You owe me and I'm collecting.

Aeolus is right, this war must end and I have remained neutral for far too long. Head to Whiterun and speak to Jarl Balgruuf himself. He will put your joint talents to use.

Do this for me and I will give you what you desired and your debt to me shall be paid.

~Aeolus~

Forgive me for waiting so long… You are so very right and I was blind to what needed to be done. I can only hope you forgive me.

~Azriel the Dragonborn~

Tolfdir sank into his chair and handed the letter back to Indaris. His hand shook as he picked up his mug once more. "She didn't tell you…"

The note safely back in his bag, Indaris shuffled in his seat. "Tell me what?"

"The Archmage Azriel caused all this."

Indaris leaned forward. "Caused all what?"

Tolfdir struggled to find his words. "The destruction of Winterhold…" He wiped his face with a towel.

"How can one person cause the destruction of a city?" Indaris wanted to laugh, but the soil and air surrounding Winterhold still resonated with raw power.

"She is a complexly fascinating creature. The power of a dragon trapped inside a seemingly mortal body. Obviously, she's the Archmage of the College for a reason…" The old man's words died on his lips as he returned his gaze to the fire. For several minutes he said nothing more.

Indaris finally opened his mouth, but stopped when Tolfdir continued. "Young man, may I ask you something as a friend?"

The question struck him as odd, since he'd only known the old mage for a couple of hours. "If that's your desire, ask."

"The college is in desperate need of aid. There are only a few of us here at the moment. The Stormcloaks cut off the college from the outside world, but the storm has leveled out normal trades with the outside world." Tolfdir looked down at his mug and took a drink. He collected his thoughts and continued. "We cannot last much longer without the supplies we so heavily relied on from the city. I have sent mages to Solitude, Whiterun, and Morthal to speak with the Jarls. All of our students have gone to gather herbs and other necessities from the whole of Skyrim to put my plan together. So the Jarls' aid would only be for a short while."

Indaris held up his hand. "What plan?"

Tolfdir smiled at him. "Ah, forgive me. The storm and the siege have shown us the folly of our ways. We have relied on our tumultuous relationship with Winterhold for so long, we didn't see the possibility of needing to be self-reliant. Everything that has happened in the last few weeks has shown us we must have our own means of sustaining harmony within our walls while maintaining a healthy relationship with the outside world."

"Wise words. The Stormcloaks only wish to desolate the land with their war." Tolfdir looked at the man with surprise. "How do you require my assistance?" Indaris took a drink, watching the man recover from his shock with a small smile playing on his lips.

"Forgive my surprise, young Indaris. I tend to forget that not all Nords sympathize with Jarl Ulfric's cause…"

The Nord chuckled without mirth. "There is no need for apologies, it simply is the way of things."

Tolfdir drained his mead and took the Nord's tankard to refill it. "I also sense a great sorrow within you and for that, you have my condolences. Times are tragic, my dear young friend."

The old mage hit the nerve and Indaris looked at the flames leaping happily in the old mantle. He muttered only his thanks, resolving to keep his quiet.

"It seems this war touches each of us on so many levels." Tolfdir lamented. "It is truly disheartening to see yet another war unfold to one which no one truly will win…"

Indaris watched the old man as he shuffled back to his chair. "Very true." Indaris sighed, letting his thoughts roam his memories. "So, Whiterun?"

"Yes, well I've received messages from the others I've sent out, except from Gwendolyn. I am concerned for her and J'zargo's safety. I hope they have made it to the Hold, but I'm not sure. I have a bad feeling something may have happened to them."

"And you wish for me to inquire of their safety?" Indaris sat up in his chair. The mage's concern troubled him.

"I fear they may have run afoul of a Stormcloak detachment. The Stormcloaks do not take kindly to mages, as seen by their previous actions. But, it is no secret that the Archmage is a mortal enemy of theirs. They may wish to extract vengeance upon whoever crosses their path from this college."

The Nord nodded. "You said she caused the damaged here?"

Tolfdir sighed sadly. "She did indeed."

"But, you were under siege…"

Tolfdir's scrutiny made Indaris shift uncomfortably. For all the man's kindness, there was no mistake in his mind he was a powerful mage. He could feel it.

"I know in this day and age that it is difficult to see things as right or wrong. But, the Dragonborn is fallible, even if you don't believe it is possible." He swirled his mug and looked back up at Indaris' questioning face. "She is a creature created with a sole purpose. In the years I have known her, I have watched her struggle with what she is and her heart. I cannot fault her for having the thoughts she has, it is her nature. Yet, I can only lament with a heavy heart at the outcome of her actions."

Indaris laughed softly. "You seem in conflict with your words, old man."

"This college was under siege. I had hoped that time and conversations with the Jarl would prove fruitful. When the Archmage arrived she called a storm… this storm. It, along with her dragons, killed every living creature near the city. How can I not express grief at the loss of so much life?"

Indaris leaned forward. "The story is true? She commands the dragons themselves?"

Tolfdir nodded in ascent. "It's true."

Indaris weighed the words in his mind, but Tolfdir interrupted him.

"In her defeat of Alduin, I can only imagine she proved her might and power over them. It is written in ancient tomes of how the Dragon Cults worshipped the dragons through their power. How their dominance and might secured their unwavering loyalty. Perhaps, the same is true of dragons? I have thought long on the matter, but I do not attest to be an expert by any means."

"She once told me that dragons were prideful creatures. They would rise to a challenge, any challenge. Dragons only 'listen to reason' by force because it is what they understand and know." Indaris added.

"That's probably a true statement based on what we do know of them. Which is pitifully little, I might add."

Indaris studied the fire before asking his next question. He had studied the old Nordic ruins along his quests. The ancient symbols he cataloged for years. He had always been fascinated with them, but more so in their history. But, he also knew the Dragonborn. Her desire for knowledge made his own look inadequate. It had been one of the things that made Aeolus love her so dearly. She had always been hungry for knowledge and his partner had always enjoyed their conversations into the night.

He choked back a sob.

His thoughts lingered on Aeolus and he couldn't bare it. He pushed himself from the chair and began to pace. "Did she… were there any children?"

"No. When the Stormcloaks made Winterhold their Northern outpost, the last remaining family moved to Whiterun. Only those loyal to Ulfric and the war remained. But…"

Indaris didn't turn around. He didn't want Tolfdir see his tears as the face of Aeolus floated in his mind and the weight of his body crushed his heart. "But?"

"Forgive me. But, do you grieve someone?" Tolfdir's voice was low and compassionate.

Indaris took a deep breath and looked at the beams above him. He counted the individual herbs that hung drying. "My husband Aeolus. He would want me to help her in any way I can. I owe her, but it is for him that I go. He adored her, the stupid Elf. That isn't what you were thinking though, was it?"

"No, young man, I was thinking that life is precious, no matter the age. Innocence isn't the only thing that can be lost with so much destruction. But, also a person's humanity. Though I am not dim to the ideas of good versus evil, I find the events happening around us as tragic and senseless. Even the loss of your loved one and Winterhold…"

"My losses are my own, old Mage. They are of no consequence to you." Indaris said the words more gruffly than he intended.

"There you are mistaken, my dear boy. All life is valuable, it is a lesson that so many fail to learn."

Indaris turned and looked at him harshly. "What are you implying?"

"There are few things I can say with certainty as a student of this world. But, of this I am sure. You came here with purpose and under guidance, be it pure your own volition I highly doubt. I prayed the Divines would bring reason to this world over that pyre. Then you arrived, the first friendly soul in so much chaos. I can only hope you are willing to hear an old man out."

Indaris looked at his care worn face and his thought again drifted to Aeolus. His lover was unlike any Altmer he had ever met in his life, so full of knowledge, yet compassionate to a fault. Tolfdir's sadness would have struck a chord within him, made him want to hear him out. In so many ways Aeolus had changed his life from a simple treasure hunter to a more sophisticated student of history. His interest in ancient Nordic wisdom and history had been Aeolus' doing, not his own. He laughed internally at what the Altmer had called him when they first met. 'You're nothing more than a grave robber, Nord. The sad part is you don't even know what it is you're stealing! You know nothing of value, save for the price, and even in that, you are an idiot.'

"I will listen."

"The Archmage… forgive me, the Dragonborn Archmage has summoned you to Whiterun to aid her. I can only assume she seeks protection of her home from the Stormcloaks. I warn you, their vengeance will be terrible for the loss of their comrades here. Whiterun is a peaceful city, even now it pains me to say the words, for I know the outcome that will occur. This war must end. The toll it takes on the People of Skyrim is grave. But, there are worst things afoot than this civil war, I fear the Aldmeri Dominion waits for the Empire and Skyrim to be weakened before they attack."

"And you know this how?" Indaris' curiosity was peaked.

"Isn't it obvious?" Tolfdir stood as well. "The White-Gold Concordat… the inquisitions… the squads around the land? Don't you see?"

Indaris grumbled to himself. Aeolus had spoken of this very thing a year ago.

"Their beliefs dictate it. They wait for the Empire to fail completely, for the children of the North to destroy each other under false notions of peace and freedom."

"You preach nothing new here, Tolfdir. I've seen with my own eyes the ills of Nords against other races. It was through Aeolus and my love for him that I saw it." Indaris took a deep pull from his tankard. Opening up about his lover wasn't something that came easy. "He was born and raised in Chorrol, yet he was treated as though he was an agent of the Dominion." He sighed. "But, this has nothing to do with Azriel, does it?"

"In a way it does. She was instrumental in removing the Thalmor from the College. Yet, I feel as though she has deep ties to the impending Dominion plans. Don't ask me how I know this, just know that I do. Her actions here are another matter though. I feel as though her time fighting dragons has stripped her of any humanity she possessed. She is more dragon than human anymore. You must help her learn that life is precious, even that of her enemies. Help her to be human, not just the dragon."

Indaris laughed. "You place far too much stock in Azriel's relationship with me. It was Aeolus that she cared for, not I."

Tolfdir smiled at him tenderly. "Then perhaps you both can learn something from each other."

Indaris frowned and slid back into his chair. "It was only Aeolus she cared for. We were only in business dealings together."

"Yet, it was you she turned to for aid." Tolfdir smiled at the man and Indaris gave him an unconvinced look.

Chapters will be coming a bit slower than I thought. The new job takes a bit more time up than I originally thought.

Anyways, I hope you enjoyed it. Don't forget to leave a comment.

Lastly... I really really REALLY want to write in a dragonling. Your thoughts on this?