He bored a hole in her with his stare, the flames that covered the houses of Helgen. She felt paralyzed, like his stare did something to her. He was perched on top of the house, seemingly flames in his angry eyes; as if he recognized her of some sort.

The screams of terror that emitted from men, women and children rang through her eardrums, inking the trauma into her mind.

As if he had history with her, his large mouth twisted into a sneer as he laid his eyes upon the Argonian woman who had been leaned over the slab ready to be beheaded. He leaned closer from his point and she could smell the scent of death.

The axe came down on her head.

Her eyes snapped open, letting them stare at the ceiling of her quarters. The sweat slid down her face before she realized it had been a dream. She breathed heavily before she finally calmed down from the illusion of the dream. A nightmare? She hasn't had a nightmare in…well she couldn't even remember.

Fredas, 17th of Last Seed; 4E 211. Ten years after the events of The Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim.

Ysara El sat up from her sleeping position, her eyes still low and heavy from the deep slumber she had endured. She took her scaly fingers to rub the tiredness out of her eyes before she flipped the blanket off of her, swinging her feet to the floor and slipping them into a pair of slippers. She had stood up taking the robe out of her wardrobe a few feet from her bed, wrapping it around her. She sat down on the chair next to the tea table, before pouring herself a glass of tea. Warming it up with heat magic she casts din her hand, she dipped the tea pouch in the piping hot water. Swirling it a few times, she set the pouch aside and had sipped the tea slowly before she sighed.

Time to start the day.

She put the Arch-Mage robes on, leaving the hoodie off so that it wouldn't bother her curled horns. She cleaned her teeth and put on some perfume to mask her scent. Ysara exhaled before she opened the doors to the stairs that led to the Hall of Elements, her students already waiting for her.

"Good morning, Arch-Mage." They all said in unison and bowed. She bowed before them as well.

"Let us begin our lessons for today." She simply said, ready for the weekend.

Watching the newcomers of the college display their magic had been a sight to see for her. She didn't realize how far she had come being a teacher, being able to watch her mages and students cast magic and spells so effortlessly. She could remember Tolfdir telling her she might have been the finest Arch-Mage to ever grace his time at the college, before departing to live the rest of his old days. That was seven years ago.

The snow never lets up in Winterhold, even though the town has been bustling now more than ever. Ten years ago, if you said Winterhold was now home to twice as many people, all of the houses had been fixed up; it wasn't as much as a ghost town when she first arrived here back in 201; she'd laugh. When she was institutionalized as Arch-Mage in 203, she made it her goal to fix relations with Winterhold and Jarls all over Skyrim.

All students interested in magic, should have a chance to learn it at the College of Winterhold, no matter where they are from. They even had some students that traveled from Elsweyr, Morrowind and Valenwood! Relations with other countries, even going as far as establishing relations with other colleges all over Tamriel.

In order to keep students with ill intentions, they'd have to pass a knowledge test and students will be monitored from a distance where they will have privacy, but not so they could plan to do something drastic like blow up the college.

But it had been humbling being praised as an amazing Arch-Mage, and one that the College of Winterhold was dearly in need of.

She had offered help to the Jarl to rebuild the town, which he had gleefully agreed to. It wasn't long until Winterhold was now a bustling, little snowy town with a colllege that people didn't hate anymore. They had gave their many thanks to Ysara for her efforts in restoring the college image, in which she had been humble to the praise.

When she first arrived it had been nothing but a shanty town that had been covered in a blanket of snow, with a bunch of dull people that hobbled around the settlement.

Ysara sighed, the dark red shaded Argonian rubbed the tiredness out of her eye. As Arch-Mage of the College of Winterhold, it was her duty to now ensure that magic users benefit and wield magic with no ill intention. She had been glad that she was making an impact on her students. The Argonian never realized her love for teaching, she would've never thought she'd be one when she was first leaving the Black Marsh to travel around Tamriel looking for a new home. A new life.

She was trained to be a warrior, and she had left home in her early twenties for a better life than the Black Marsh could offer, yet it had only gotten more interesting.

She had traveled with a couple fellow Argonians she grew up with up Cyrodiil. near the border before they broke off for another section of Cyrodiil, bidding Ysara farewell and good luck, she ventured deeper into the land of Cyrodiil. unknowingly. Ysara remembered how she traveled alone for weeks, and she ran into trouble more than she would've liked. She hadn't realized how the rest of Tamriel treated Argonians, she had been called more than a few slurs and sticky situations traveling her way through Cyrodiil. Sometimes, drunk men would try to get her to sleep with or pay her for a night. It was, quite a dark period of time in her life. Then she had made it to Pale Pass, and three Imperial guards had tackled her, knocking her out due to her resistance.

"Hey you...you're finally awake."

Stuck in a wagon full of Nord men. And that was how Dragonborn became her new life then.

Ysara never would've imagined this what was her destiny, she didn't believe that she was the chosen one to save the province of Skyrim. Apart of her had wanted to boast about it, another party of wanted to curl up into a ball and cry. She had gotten backlash, racial slurs and threats about being the supposed Dragonborn. So much so, she covered herself in black. She'd practically had two identities at the time. Dragonborn and Ysara El.

She'd wonder what her family would think of her being the legendary Dragonborn. They probably would be against it, their relationship was not a good one when she left home.

She thought about home for a bit, she missed her family but she was better off distancing herself from them. Ysara had her issues with her family about her future, and how they wanted her to follow in her footsteps for the family business of running a bar. She didn't want that life, she wanted to be free and explored. And training to be a seasoned warrior only amplified that urge. She had seen the disappointment in their faces when she announced she was leaving home to explore Tamriel. The only person that seemed to encourage her on her journey was her older brother, Narzul. And that's because he himself was on his way out to Hammerfell. Not a day goes by where she doesn't think of her brother.

Ysara also thought of how the heat would practically beat down on them from sun up and sun down. How mosquitoes, leeches and other insects would slither their way into the house she grew up in. She was glad when she finally was able to explore Tamriel and came to Skyrim. The weather was perfect by her standards. She didn't realize how much she loved snow despite her race being terribly vulnerable to it.

Truth be told, she wasn't even planning to settle down in Skyrim. In fact, she didn't know where she would call new home. Her original plan had been to travel through Skyrim and head for Hammerfell, maybe reunite with her brother.

That was of course, until Imperial guards tackled her.

The day had been exhausting teaching new students and introducing them to next level magic they had yet to experience yet. She was lucky to be as versatile as she is in magic. She teaches restoration, illusion, destructive and her favorite: clairvoyance. Just about any magic known, she's tried to teach it before.

She had settled down for being Arch-Mage after helping save the college and kill that freak, Arcano. She had did little after Alduin's slaying in Sovngarde just a little over a decade ago, she had remembered the land clearer than she wanted to. After all, she was destined to walk the paths of Sovngarde and enter the Hall of Valor someday. She shook her head, she was merely beginning a normal life if anything. Fighting bandits, exploring dungeons, killing vampires, werewolves, giants and dragons wasn't the ideal life for the average person. She had killed off all of the dragons, leaving only Paarthurnax who she hasn't seen since she took up teaching at the college.

His teachings and words always rumbled through her thoughts.

It had been the one of the hardest choices of her life whenever to kill Paarthurnax or spare him, the Blades had practically dropped the ultimatum on her which made her a bit agitated. They were supposed to serve her not the other way around, but she could see their point. Even Paarthurnax himself said it was foolish to trust a dragon, but hopefully Ysara made the right choice. After she willingly spared the atoned dragon, she never saw or heard from Delphine or Esbern again. Good riddance. She didn't mind Esbern, but Delphine was insufferable. There were many times where she held back on carving her head in with her katana.

Delphine was vital in her saving Tamriel, she couldn't deny that. But the way the woman went about things, her opinions on things or what she had to say on the matter always struck Ysara that her motivation had been for more personal reasons or vendetta than for Skyrim.

The Civil War had been resolved and when the dust cleared, the Stormcloaks had been victorious against the Empire surprisingly. Ysara however, didn't participate in the Great War. As an Argonian, she felt that no sides would bring her any kind of benefit. The Imperials had tried to cut her head off with no viable reason other than existing, and the Stormcloaks...well they were the Stormcloaks.

So she ignored multiple letter invitations to join the Stormcloaks or Empire. There hadn't been much change since then anyway, Skyrim was still the quiet, rowdy and dangerous land it still was. Argonians still weren't allowed in Windhelm with the exception of her. It didn't bother her, Windhelm was still a shithole anyway.

Bidding the students farewell for the weekend, she exhaled. It had been a rough week, some students had learned at different paces than others and she tried her best to keep them up at the same level. She fixed her tribe earring on her curled talon before she began to make her way out of the Hall of Elements.

She took a left into the Arcanaeum, opening the door she then made a right to face where no other than Urag gro-Shub sat in his chair horizontally behind the desk. It had looked like he was tending to a book before he realized her presence. Ysara held the books in her hand with a firm grasp. Luckily these weren't her books and only the ones she used to teach magic to the students. She has an entire stash along with a few bookshelves filled in her quarters.

"Good evening, Arch-Mage." His gruff voice rang out.

"Hello Urag, how has the day for you been?"

He grunted. "Peachy."

"Well, I just stopped by to bring the books I borrowed last week." She stated, holding them up. He had eyes the book suspiciously, before she had darted her eyes to the wrinkled page of the book he had in his grasp.

"Those books better have been taken care of." Urag rambled through his vocal cords. Ysara had chuckled, ten years here and he never changed. "Just had one of the students bring one of the books back wrinkled…"

"You know I wouldn't bring it back to you any other way, beeko." Ysara said with a smile on her face. She spotted the confusion on the orc's face.

Urag's eyebrow shot up. "Beeko? Never heard that before, hope it isn't some insult in your native tongue."

She chuckled once again. For a libertarian, he could be clueless sometimes

"It means friend." She corrected. Urag suspiciously looked her up and down before he grunted and reopened the book he was tending to. Ysara smiled to herself before placing the books on the desk and swiftly turned around to exit the Arcanaeum to dodge the rest of Urag's brooding. She liked Urag, he could hold a great conversation or tell a good story before he let his brooding take over. It reminded her that it was time to leave.

Walking up the steps, she thought she had been in the clear until she bumped into Niryu, a teacher. The two had let out a yelp, before Ysara put a hand to her heart. Niryu, a former student, had bumped into the teacher. Their bodies collided with one another, dropping

Luckily she had toned down her personality and was quite humble now. She had gathered herself, and attempted to berate who ever crashed into her before she realized it was Ysara.

"I'm terribly sorry, Arch-Mage. I didn't mean to startle you like that." Niryu apologized quickly. "Forgive me."

"No, no. I wasn't looking where I was going." Ysara yawned after the sentence, earning a meek smile from Niryu.

"I take it it's been a busy day for you, hm?" Niryu asked.

Ysara scoffed. "Week. Luckily it's the weekend."

"Any plans?"

"Sleep, I have not gotten any lately. Just have this weird feeling."

"Funny, I had some of the best rest I could ask for last night." Niryu said, before she jolted up and looked back apologetically towards Ysara. "I'm sorry Arch-Mage, I do not mean to boast."

The Argonian chuckled. "You do not need to apologize. I plan to take a sleeping potion tonight, and sleep most of tomorrow away."

Niryu chuckled before she herself yawned. "Well, you have a good night Arch-Mage."

"You as well, Niryu." A farewell nod between the two and Ysara continued her way up the last swirl of the steps.

"Xuth..." She breathed out, she felt exhausted.

She opened the doors that led to her quarters before inevitably climbing the steps. She dug her hand deep into her pocket to fish out the key before she finally felt her grasp on it. She pulled it out, before almost jamming it into the keyhole, unlocking the door.

It had opened with a groan, before she let it shut behind her. There's a curved partition stone wall separating the sleeping area from her garden and the rest of the room. She came closer to her garden which one of the floating sparks liked and gave her a brighter shine making her feel jittery inside. She had walked around the curved wall before she began to undress herself; letting herself relax in a white nightgown that she purchased years ago on her travels to use for sleepwear.

The flimsy clothing had stopped at her ankles, letting her reddish feet into clear view, her breasts had been visibly through the clothing, but clearly she didn't care as she was in her quarters. The stone floor had been colder and harsh under her bare feet, making her settle for a pair of slippers that laid limp at the bottom of the closet. She had unlocked her safe, where she kept her books at and chose four of them. A Dance in Fire. One of her personal favorites.

Swiping a bottle of wine and a goblet from one of her shelves, a tradition she's always had since settling down in life. A nice drink that'll send her to sleep. It had been the weekend as well, which had been a much needed reminder for her so that she could sleep in and hide away in her quarters with a book in one hand and a goblet of wine in the other. Shelving the wine, Ysara let her eyes focus on the dragonbane katana that had been mantled on the wall. She realized she hadn't held the weapon in quite some time. She took a sip of the strong beverage before she sighed, getting in a more relaxed state. Forgetting about her past life she sat criss-crossed on top of her bed, letting her tail rhythmically tap up and down slowly, she opened the book before she began to dive into it.

Ysara could hear the harsh winds of Winterhold smacking across the outside building from her vantage point, but then again her bed was right near a wall and sometimes the wind would calm her at night to drift off to sleep. She didn't know how much time had passed because she had somehow gotten her way through two books and three small goblets of wine before a knock had erupted on her double doors. Her eyebrow raised. All of the students should be in their rooms, who is outside this time of hour?

Feeling buzzed, Ysara jumps up before wrapping a blanket around herself to cover some of her exposed body, and doesn't want to be giving someone the wrong idea. She's already been mistaken for a sex slave by a man before when opening her door with a robe. People tend to not think that the Arch-Mage of Winterhold was an Argonian.

She walked down the cold steps before unlocking the door. A courier, someone who delivers letter for her and one she's never been able to get his name. He had looked a bit older since it was about a few years since she received a letter from a courier. He had been cloaked in feathered clothing to keep himself warm from the harsh winds of Winterhold. How did he get through the gates? Did they just let him in? Then again, he did have a letter for the Arch-Mage. She didn't doubt that the newly appointed guards let him enter on a whim either, so whatever he had must've been important.

"Arch-Mage?" He said, letting a sigh out. His pale face had colored red from the exposure of the weather.

"She is I." Ysara declared.

"Good. Been looking for you, got something I'm supposed to deliver. Two of them actually. The usual, your hands only." He had grabbed his pack before flipping through several pages of notes, letters and possible political messages before his eyes peeled up and took a small letter out from his pack. "Let's see…got it! Here you go!"

She took the letters from him, nodding in acceptance. They had been stacked on one another and she separated them, before noticing both of the envelopes were blank. "Who does it say they are from?" Ysara asked, not opening it.

The courier had an awkward look on his face. "Funny you ask. They were actually delivered to my home, in Solitude. I'm not sure."

Ysara looked up, she had looking at the two letters before glancing back up at the messenger. "What do you imply?"

"A couple days ago when I started delivering, they were left at my doorstep. Almost stepped on them. They left a good amount of coin there for me to get here. Said it was important. Had a few stops to make before I cam here, but the note they left was urgent that I deliver them to you at once. So I went straight to Winterhold from Solitude." The courier informed, before slapping his pack slightly and closing it. "Well, Arch-Mage. You have a good night. Got to be in Dawnstar by sunrise."

The courier had quickly been out of sight before she looked up from examining the weird letter. It had been folded in half neatly, she looked towards the exit of the college gates which had been shut before she quickly retreated back into her quarters. She took her place back on her bed, she placed both folded letters on her bed looking at them.

Ysara poured herself a goblet of wine, taking a few sips of it before setting it aside on the counter next to her bed.

She hesitated on which one she would open. She hasn't gotten two letters at the same time in over ten years. Even as her time as Dragonborn she barely got two letters at the same time. She scanned her orange eyes over the pair of letters before she grabbed for the right letter. Narzul always said, right way is the best way.

Ysara opened the letter:

Ysara El. (Dragonborn.)

I need you to report to Windhelm immediately. Something is happening.

High King of Skyrim, Ulfric Stormcloak

She froze. Ulfric sent her a letter…? She hadn't spoken to the high king in almost five years now. She had examined the letter with a dropped jaw before she set it down looking at the left letter. What would that one be about?

Ysara set the letter from Ulfric down to her right before she swiped the remaining letter that had laid on her bed. She had breathed heavily holding it in her hands. It couldn't have been worse, right? Maybe an invitation to a party? A newly elected Jarl wanting to meet her? She flipped the letter open, and what she didn't want to be more right they than she was:

Dragonborn.

They've returned.

-A Friend.

She could feel the pumping of her heart speed up in anxiety. She had shook her head, muttering nonsensical words. It couldn't be true. It had only been a decade. Ysara snapped her head up. It had been the tenth anniversary since the attack of Helgen. Helgen had slowly but steadily been rebuilt and repopulated. Expanded as well, the village had been restored in good faith. Ysara had even made a couple trips to the village to see for herself, and surely she was impressed. But that was not the case here.

Alduin had returned? She felt her anger rise, knowing she hadn't been wrong all this time. She never claimed his soul, he had merely burned to pieces practically in Sovngarde. She even mentioned to Arngeir that she didn't absorb his soul, and the Greybeard practically shrugged it off.

Getting off the bed, she had packed clothes and supplies in a few empty sacks she had lying around before she had neatly piled them in acorner together. She yawned, her body posture exhausted. The dragons couldn't wait for her beauty sleep, couldn't they?

She had decided that she was too tired to travel or go out as of now, she had sluggishly walked back towards her bed. Slipping off her slippers and taking her earrings off, she had cut the lights off with a snap of her finger. The fire going out in a split second. The quarters shrouded in darkness.

The only thing she could hear was the wind violently smacking against the college walls, shielding the inside from the harsh cold of Winterhold. Sometimes it had lulled her to sleep, the sounds of the wind sometimes eased her mind. It was just this morning everything in her life had been seemingly normal, and now she had been thrown back into the fray.

She felt her body begin to shut down, as she hid away in her quarters with a blanket up to her neck. She had felt a slight tear escape her eye, with a loud shuddering.

She'll truly never escape the grasp of this curse, will she?

Her eyes closed, and she didn't realize the deep slumber she had been subjected to.