All across Tamriel, stories are told of great lives of past, present and future. They are told in books, scripts, scrolls and markings in cave walls. Bards sing tales of all things from war, aggression, oppression and the comings of the end of the world. Of mythical creatures like dragons and mammoths. Mages who cast spells that make them breathe underwater and turn invisible. Of Demons and Gods alike, who like to play and meddle with mankind. And all across the night sky, our mother told their tales. Tales of great warriors and dragons, of times of war and times of peace, of death and life; and stretched across the endless sea of sorrows, a million spangled glimmers of hope pierced through the veil, like the eyes of angels in the distant darkness. Before I had left home, I had often wondered, how much death, and how many a battle won or lost, could have created such a brightly lit sky? And, would my life ever be told, upon the night sky? Would I shine as bright as those men and women? I honestly never thought so.
My story, one, I never thought would be important enough to be put into songs, or scrolls, started in a small shack on a night full of stars…
Drukel of The Kothringi looked out at the sky, a sense of foreboding plaguing him as the sun began its set on The Last Seed. Raising a hand to his back, he palmed his hand over the handle of his war hammer. Some of the tension he felt left him as he felt the comfort of his weapon. Nothing would get passed him, not as he kept his eyes trained on the horizon. Several feet behind him came a pained screech from the small home, causing his silver face to fall into a grim look. It had a raw quality, the realness of a person consumed by a pain that knew no end or limit. Then it would go quiet, just for a time, before it would rise again moments later. Inside his wife was giving birth to their first child.
For a moment he looked lost in thought. Would the child have his skin, or their mothers? He prayed that their child would not have the misfortune of his appearance. He was part of a race of humans with metallic looking skin but were used by Ayleids as slaves that inhabited Black Marsh. Even after the slave rebellion, which he and several men helped lead, their misfortune didn't end. One by one, they contracted the Knahaten Flu, which eventually lead to their passing, as a cure couldn't be found. His Kothringi tribe was fading out. But the thought of a child gave him and his people hope. He was growing anxious again. Until another pained howl rang out into air. Turning his back on the red horizon, he walked back to the home that was hidden away amongst a mountain side, pushing the door open and walking past the females who were assisting the birth.
"My Lady... Lorena". He called soothingly as he got to her side.
"Drukel." Her soft voice strained as her slender hand reached out and grabbed hold of his forearm, her nails nearly piercing his skin. Murmuring words of soft encouragement at her bedside as sweat beaded along her face, she breathed in and out. Her tanned skin was flushed with exertion, her eyes looking at him in pained contempt. Her words she spoke to him between each wave of pressure would have made even the most respected Altmer alarmed. She being an Altmer, a high elf, who are known for being soft spoken. Not his Lorena, he thought with pride. She faced the world with a sense of calm compassion, she had been traveling with a group of her people when she had come across him. She listened to his story, they connected, stole chances to be together. The classic story. Slave meets Princess. Their passion, unable to be contained or broken, conquered. She was his reason to lead his people to freedom from the Ayleids. She gave up her place in High Court because she believed love had no limit. No race should be limited to their birth race.
Love was love.
And with a final push, the result of it came crying into this world.
Drukel's tears of relief and joy alarmed them. He being s a stoic warrior of his tribe. He turns his glossy eyes to his wife and in a voice, that's almost broken he tells her they have a beautiful son. Through her exhaustion she smiles, and she lets her eyes leave his face to take in the baby on her bare skin. Both lost for a moment at the wonder at the small bundle in her arms. He stared at the small boy, until his wife moaned in pain again, sitting up on the bed of furs, laying a hand on her stomach.
"What is wrong? Lorena?!" He called out in a mixture of anger and fear as the midwives came to her assistance. He fought until their son started to cry, causing him to be torn between the two.
"Take your son away, we need to help your wife. Please." With gentle hands, they handed him the small child, and they ushered him to the kitchen. There, he sat at the hearth, speaking soft words to soothe the small babe. The boy was quite a handful. Though the wailing of his Lorena was now soft whimpers, the feeling of anxiousness had yet to leave his body. His arms tightened around his child, causing the boy to open his eyes. Looking at the boy, his breath caught as his own grey eyes reflected back at him.
"So, you've my eyes, do you lad?" He smiled as he spoke. He was a solid type of man. And yet, he found himself rocking side to side gently as he spoke in his tribal tongue to his son, making the boy quiet. Time ticked by. His heart filling with pride as he gazed at his son. Motion to his left caused him to turn to the doorway he walked in from.
"She is well, my lord. Please, come see." The elder of the elves spoke gently as he stood to rise. Holding his son tight to him, he walked into the birthing room and saw his wife, sitting up with another child in her arms. The tight grip on his heart loosened as he walked back to her side. The mages assisting her with Healing Hands. She already looked stronger. In that moment she begins to cry the sweetest tears she's ever known, all the pain of moments before melting away. They sat together, when all others had left, relishing in joy of their children.
"Twins. I can't believe it." Lorena spoke gently, trading their daughter for their son, who was fussing. Sighing she allowed a spell to flow into her hand, un-casted, the glowing light made their fussing son stop, and become fixated on the light that shone gently from her hand.
"Our son has your eyes." He nodded as his chest expanded in pride. Looking at their daughter, his heart clenched.
"She's beautiful like her mother." He said as she slept. "Divines, their so small. I fear I may crush the wee things. You have blessed me with two beautiful children milady." His voice was rough with emotion. "It hurt me to sit and do nothing. Are you well?" He asked as she fed their son. She closed her eyes, breathing deeply a few times and nodded.
"I am well." Gently, she raised her hand touching is face. "Any thoughts on naming the children?" she asked as they looked at both babes, sleeping in their arms.
"I have. Daodrik for our son." He looked at the boy, and heard a gentle whine and he stretched in his sleep.
"After the man who helped us free your people?" Lorena asked. He nodded in memory. "He was a strong and noble man. It suits our boy. Daodrik." She tried out the name, and smiled when the boy cooed. "I think he likes it too. And our daughter?" She asked.
"My people have horrible names for our women my lady. I haven't heard of one I would want to pass onto our child." He spoke honestly, sending her an apologetic smile. "Do you have a name from your people?"
"Well..". She hesitated. "I worry you may not like it." She spoke softly. He rested a hand over hers and gave it an encouraging squeeze. "I was thinking… Serlina."
"Serlina.." He smiled. The soft looking face of his daughter made him smile. "It's perfect.".
"Do you think they will take to spell-casting, like you?" He asked. Her lips curved in a smile.
"If they should so wish." She let out a small yawn. "Only time will tell." She looked over at the large dresser along their bedroom wall. "But we should be prepared for anything." She paused and looked at him. "Like I said before, a union such as ours has never occurred before."
Nodding, he looked out at the sky, now darkened by the lack of sun, and took a deep breath, "And whatever happens, we'll take it in stride." He spoke firmly, making her smile and place a small kiss on his forehead.
"Our children, my love, will do great things." His wife spoke fondly, eyes lost on their children. He said nothing, not of the foreboding he felt earlier, but instead, he sank into bed, holding his family close. Silently, he thanked the Divines, for he now possessed all a man could ask for. But unbeknownst to them, the events that they had unknowingly set in motion.
17 YEARS LATER.
My muscles ached as I swung my practice sword at my father, which he easily deflected, and slapped the back of my hand with the handle of his warhammer, making me hiss in pain.
"Serlina, come girl, you are unfocused. Move your feet! Guard up. Arms in. Bend your knees!" His voice vibrated with power as he swung at me. After his both physical and verbal barrage, I tried to get some distance and catch my breath.
"Father, please, we've been at this for hours! I am exhausted!" My breath burned through my throat as I avoided his oncoming swings, feeling the weight of it pass through the air. If any connected with myself, I would be sailing through the air. Father didn't believe in teaching softly. Battle and survival didn't do 'soft' or 'gentle'. At least, they hadn't… Until Mama passed several years ago. The battle in which she was wounded from, was neither soft, nor gentle. And after, fathers' teachings had changed.
Grown harsher.
"Staying up until early hours of the morn to look at stars will do that to you, little sister." A familiar voice called out from inside the house. Daodrik. As my brother walked out to our practice clearing, I barely had enough time to spare him a glance. My brother, was growing into a large man, taking after our father in his strength, his war axe holstered on his back. Against his smooth pale skin his black hair moved in the spring breeze. It was cold enough for some to be in winter clothing still, but he made no motion to suggest he even felt it. His eyes reminded me of ashes and smoke blowing in the wind coming from a fire that burned everything to the ground. They were intense, coming from that fire that burned deep within his soul. Hair so black against skin so white isn't expected in these parts. The shock and the contrast only serve to make him all the more ghostly, all the more haunting. And so, he is more prized and reviled in equal portion, sought and rejected, admired and distrusted.
Just like our mother, he excelled at magic. He however seemed to favor Alteration and Illusion. Magic was beyond my abilities to even wrap my head around. I could barely light a fire, and here he could cover himself in magic armor and muffle his footsteps.
"I couldn't sleep." I admitted before gritting my teeth against another one of my fathers harsh swings, my shoulders tightening against the impact. "And we're the same age brother!" I added with a harsh exhalation as I bent down to let another swing pass over my head. "And you're not one to talk after coming home from your own flirtations with the wenches from town."
"For your information, they had a tome I wanted to learn from. And I am older than you. I was born first." He stood against the side of the trees that bordered the glen.
"Yeah." I rolled my eyes. "I bet you paid with everything you had on you." I rolled under fathers swing and swiped at his ribs, to which he blocked.
"Daodrik, you can't go out past dark; you know this." Father huffed after taking a quick swipe of my legs. "Your studies are important, I understand, but your safety comes first."
"Father, I am not helpless. Unlike Serlina, I am able to hold a blade and not look like I'm about to pass out after a short time." My eyes snapped up to him, and caught his high and mighty, smug ass smirk. I wanted to punch him. Instead I timed my sword, finding an opening in my father's assault, catching his hammers head, bringing it to the dirt. Plating my right foot, I brought my left up and kicked him center in his chest, knocking him back. As he coughed and dusted himself off, his eyes, for a moment held a spark of pride. After a few harsh coughs subsided, Father held up a hand, signaling for us to pause our practice. I gave him a small nod. With Daodrik here, I refused to sink to the ground as I caught my breath... No matter how much my legs shook and back ached, I stood tall. Well, as tall as I could. My face was soaked with sweat; my body shook with exertion.
"Just because you can create a few sparks doesn't mean you can win in a fight!" I snap at him, making him shrug.
"I don't need to use magic to fight you little sister. I always win." He says smugly.
"I wouldn't say that so confidently my son. Your sister has been improving." Daodrik's eyes look to me with surprise while I cant look away from our father, my chest lightening in pressure as glee filled me.. "I also thought about what you asked me earlier." He states as he walks to him and notice Daodrik's brows raise in shock all the while I look on in pure confusion.
"You have?" He asked, his arms dropping to his sides, his expression hesitant and... hopeful?
"I have. I think You were right. If you are sure about this, and you want to follow this goal, then I will let you go." He clasped a hand on his shoulder when he reached him.
"Go where?!" I ask loudly, feeling left out. Daodrik leans close to father and speaks in his ear, saying something that makes my father nod in agreement. This goes on for a minute or two until they both straighten. Smacking a hand to his arm, he turns to me with a grim look.
"This concludes your lesson with me my little star. I must prepare dinner. I leave you in your brothers' capable hands." Swinging his hammer until it is notched on its holster on his back, he turns and leaves the clearing.
"Want to tell me what that was about?" I ask as I rotate my shoulders to loosen them as my brother walked to the center, reaching for his war axe.
"I talked to father a few nights ago about me continuing my learning about magical arts at the College of Winterhold." He pauses. "That's in Skyrim." He adds, making it sound like he's speaking to someone half our age.. I couldn't help but blink twice.
"What?" I ask and let out a slightly panicked laugh "I thought I heard you say you were leaving. That you were going to cross the border and attend some... silly school." I make it sound so much more stupid than it is, masking the boulder of anger and fear that now settled in my stomach.
"You heard correctly sister. Fear not. You aren't deaf yet." He says, sounding exasperated.
"But it's bad to cross the border." I state. We had been told to never cross the border as we had grown. I had always assumed it was because we were young, but it was more than that... I learned that the hard way years ago...
"Not entirely. I have spoken to several Mages in the nearby town and they all shall be attending too. They passed an invitation along to me once they had seen my gifts for the arts." He explained as he stretched for out warm-up.
"You can't just leave!" I yell, my turmoil of emotions ringing clear, my hands shaking, the sword in my hand feeling light. Lighter than it was an hour ago.
"I can't stay here anymore." His eyes take on a familiar look of sorrow as he looks at his hands. "I know this is my calling. I have known even at a young age. Mother said I was a natural. And I want to learn all I can." He looks at me. "If your angry at me for wanting to leave this place, then be angry. But we all must grow and accept the things that make us who we are. One day, you will too. Whatever that may come to be. I don't feel like giving you a lesson. So, go be a good little stargazer and go stare at the sky". He patted my head, holstered his axe, then he turned to go. Before he'd even taken two paces I was on his back, tugging hard on his hair and shouting obscenities. He grabbed me by the sleeve of my shirt and threw me to the ground.
"You don't learn." His voice was rough as he reached for his axe, but blinked in surprise when he found nothing there.
"Oh, my brother, yes I do." I stood and tossed his axe aside. The blade landing in the ground, hilt up in the air. I swung the sword in my hand, pointing the blade toward the earth, and slammed it down. The blade stuck in the earth, his axe aside, we were both unarmed. His eyes locked on me in challenge.
"You can best me in spells, and in heavy weapons brother, but unarmed, we've yet to test." My hands clenched at my sides.
"Alright sister." He smirked. Lifting his hand, he casted a spell, coating his body in a veil of thin blue. "Let's see who drops first."
AN:
Hey everyone! Thanks for reading my first chapter! Be sure to leave a review and let me know what you think of it. Some chapters in the future may be short, some, incredibly long, but all will keep this story going. This is my first for real story so thanks for bearing with me!
-IMME