Hey ya'll!

So originally this update was supposed to include all of the first half of the Haven saga, but due to some writing continuities and some dabbling with the plot, the rest won't be coming out until Sunday at the earliest and Monday at the latest, so stay tuned for that. Other than that, I'm still on track to be done with the Haven Saga by before Christmas- I'm sensing about 14 chapters with maybe some additions. The flashbacks Irina is having are quite important to the story, just not in the way you would except. ;)

Once again, tell me how you're feeling about the story so far, as its literally my lifeblood as an author (lol). Comments and likes are always appreciated! Hope ya'll had a good day yesterday and enjoy this update. :)

She slowly removed her hoodie from her head as she stepped cautiously into the quiet monastery. The air here was the most tranquil she'd felt since she'd arrived in Skyrim. It was certainly an improvement from the frozen hellscape they'd just walked through.

A whistle echoed in the long, large room. Irina turned to give an annoyed glance to Edelweiss, who smiled her most charming grin. "What? Just admiring the scenery." The Altmer's eyes moved to trace the intricate stonework of the pillars, all the way up to the banners that hung from the ceiling. On them were strange-looking symbols similar to the ones they'd seen in the Bleak Falls Barrow. "How old do you reckon this place is?"

"Probably younger than your father," Irina said.

Elle rolled her eyes. "Oh, ha-ha, very funny." She said, "I will have you know, my father is only turning four-hundred come next Hearthfire."

"Is that what you Altmer consider young?"

Elle put a hand to her chin and pretended to think. "Given that my Grandfather died at the ripe age of One-thousand one due to being shot, and my grandmother is still walking at nine-hundred and fifty, I think he is actually a baby."

Before Irina could come up with a response, another voice sounded throughout the room. This one sounded male and much older than the both of them.

Irina looked towards the source of the voice to be met with an old Nord. His long priest's robe dragged on the floor as he walked towards the pair, his hood stopping right before his eyes. A friendly yet serene expression emphasized his millions of wrinkles. A small smile lifted his long beard by an inch.

So this is one of the fabled Greybeards, she thought. Accurate.

"So…" he said. His eyes were locked with Irina's. "A dragonborn appears at this moment in the turning of the age."

"Oh shit, it is an actual Greybeard," Elle murmured. "The name is accurate, ey?" Irina stomped on her foot, and the Mer let out a small, pained grunt.

"You called me up here," Irina responded, ignoring the bitter look Elle gave her. "Well, here I am."

The Greybeard looked her up and down. "So you are," he said. "But first, let us see if you have the gift. Come, let us taste your voice."

Irina nodded. Shout, she could do that. "That's fine. Do you have something for me to… y'know, shout at?"

The Greybeard smiled. "You will be using your thu'um on me."

Irina tilted her head. Maybe all this time on a mountain alone had driven the poor man mad.

"Are you sure? The last person I tried this on nearly got a concussion."

"That was me, by the way," Elle said.

Irina glanced at her. "You have no dignity, do you?"

"What? I am just trying to make a comparison for the sake of the old man here." She patted herself on the chest. "I am an Altmer in my prime. He's," she pointed to the Greybeard. "He is an old, frail man living on only fish and wine. No offense, by the way."

"Edelweiss."

"There is none taken," said the Greybeard. "I do appreciate your concern, young Altmer, but I am more than capable of withstanding the Dragonborn's thu'um."

"Are you sure?" Elle asked.

"Yes."

Elle shrugged. "Well, I tried. There is no helping the suicidal, I suppose." She patted Irina's shoulder. "Do your best."

The Altmer was lucky she was more concerned about the old man than smacking her on the head. She looked cautiously at the Greybeard.

"You're positive?"

"There is no worry, Dragonborn. I am much more resilient than I look."

Irina took a deep breath. She guessed that if the man were to die, it wouldn't technically be her fault. "Okay."

She spread her feet out and tried to connect with the power within her. She opened her mouth and, with a push of pure power that came from her very soul, shouted, FUS.

The pots flew across the room, breaking on the old walls. The banners beat wildly against the gust of wind produced by that word alone. But the Greybeard himself only stumbled before dusting off his clothes. His expression had morphed into mild shock, but pure delight outshone it.

However that was nothing compared to the look of astonishment painted on Elle's face.

"There is absolutely no way," she muttered. "What in Sheogorath's name…"

The Greybeard spoke with delight. "Dragonborn. It is you. Welcome to High Hrothgar. I am Master Arngeir. I speak for the Greybeards. Now tell me, Dragonborn, why have you come here?"

Irina had to brush off her own shock as she fumbled for words. She scratched the back of her head, though it didn't itch. "Well… I'm, um… As I said, I'm here because you kind of called for me. "

Arngeir bowed, and Irina blushed. "We are honored to welcome a Dragonborn to High Hrothgar. We will do our best to teach you how to use your gift in fulfillment of your destiny."

Destiny? She had a destiny?

"What's this… destiny you speak of?"

The man only laughed. "That is for you to discover, Dragonborn. We Greybeards are merely guides along the river of your fate," he said. "Now, are you ready to learn the reason for your title?"

Irina snuck a glance at Elle, the Altmer nodded. A silent exchange of words was shared within a single glance. She looked back at Arngeir and said resolutely.

"I'm ready to learn."

Irina was awoken by the rattling of keys.

With a loud groan, she pushed herself into a sitting position. Yesterday's events washed over her like a tidal wave— from the Rite, from Sakn'vunen to the collar still wrapped firmly around her neck. Exhaustion and hunger like she'd never felt before coursed through her very bones. She sighed and sat there, awaiting whoever may be coming down the stairs.

When she saw the face of Leliana, her face remained impassive, but as Evette came creeping around the corner, surprise made her eyes widen a bit. The pair stopped in front of the cell— the only sound in the room at that moment was the Bosmer's own breathing.

Leliana bent down to her knees to get at eye level with Irina. Finally, some expression other than mild interest appeared on the Imperial's face. This one was of frustrated uncertainty, highlighted by the deep bags underneath her eyes.

"I will ask you plainly," she said. "What are you?"

Straight to the point, I see.

Irina shrugged. "Last time I checked, I was an elf." She tilted her head. "The ears kind of give it away."

"You resisted the Rite," said Leliana. "No, 'resisted' is not the right word, you rejected it." Her voice was firm. "I have been combing through books all night, and there is nothing like it. I have heard of reversing the Rite, but never have I heard of a mage actually rejecting it."

The Mer grinned. "What can I say? I'm magic."

Leliana shook her head. "You are not just magic. You are something else entirely." She leaned in close to the bars. "Tell me."

"I already have," Irina replied. "I'm Dragonborn."

Leliana tutted and stood upright, a hand placed on her hip. "Due to the Rite of Tranquility failing, we have reconvened our decision."

"Execution?" Irina asked, sneaking a glance at Evette, who looked away to the side.

Leliana smiled. "No, actually. I think you will find this one to be much more in your favor," she said. "She unlocked the cell door and guided Irina to stand with an arm on her shoulder. She then took a piece of cloth from her pocket and held it in her hands. "You will be coming with me for now."

Irina raised a brow as she looked at the cloth. "The collar not enough for you?"

"This is for your eyes," said the Spymaster. "An extra precaution."

"What's stopping me from headbutting you and running through that doorway?"

"You would not get very far before a soldier puts a sword through you," she said. "And plus, you do not look to be in escaping condition. You have not eaten in three days after all."

Shit, three? She supposed she shouldn't have been so surprised, considering how much her stomach was rumbling, but still.

"Behave, and you'll get to eat soon."

"Cruel tactics," Irina said.

"Necessary ones," Leliana replied. "Do we have an agreement?"

Better to play the role of the complacent prisoner for now and let them get comfortable. Then, escape. She lowered her head as though presenting her neck for the executioner's ax. It almost brought back memories.

"I'm not exactly in a state where I can be bargaining, so do as you please."

With quick hands, the Spymaster tied the blindfold around her eyes. Then, with The Spymaster's hand firmly on her arm, the three women walked up the stairs. She could hear Evette trail firmly behind her; not a word was said out of her mouth, though Irina did feel her eyes drill holes in the back of her head. She made no motion, however, that she even noticed her.

Instead, she focused on her steps as she walked along the floor, the smell as she breathed, the sounds that ran in her ears, and the goal —to leave. The trio walked up a flight of stairs, and through the little light that the blindfold allowed, she could see the dungeon's darkness give way to a brighter atmosphere and the sound of feet against stone, becoming feet against wood. The scent of mold and mildew transformed into a heavy smell of incense. People were conversing all around her, mostly about some sort of Breach in the sky, and sometimes about Haven or the Herald, or some other topic.

She could hear some discussion die down, and eyes roam over her. She ignored them. Focus on the prize.

They walked in this area for a bit before making another turn, finding themselves once more in some sort of dungeon part of the building. A right, a left, and another right, five to ten paces each, and they finally stopped. The Spymaster said something to someone (presumably a guard), and Irina heard a click.

Together, they walked into a room, and finally, the blindfold was removed. Irina studied the area. It was quaint if not simple— a rug took up much of the stone floor, and on it was a bed and a small bedside table that held a candlestick and a small cup, as well as a book. There was a small door leading into a room that looked to be about the size of a closet, which lay diagonally across from the bed. A small rocking chair lay beneath a window that nearly touched the ceiling.

"This will be your new room," said Leliana.

Irina whistled. "It's an improvement, I'll give you that." She said, "Y'know what would make it even better though? If this collar were off my neck."

The Spymaster ignored the comment. "You are free to roam within this space. Your meals will be delivered twice a day, and you will bathe at least once every three days."

"The bathroom?" Irina couldn't help but ask.

Leliana's eyes fell upon the curtain. "Right there."

Well, at least it wasn't just a bucket in the corner of the room. She had to be grateful for that.

Leliana moved towards the doorway. It was then Irina saw Evette lingering just beyond the threshold of the hall and her new cell, studying her hands intently. "Solas will be coming by to ask you some questions," said the Spymaster. "Keep up good behavior, and you may be allowed some amenities. We may even remove those chains."

The Mer's jaw clenched. "I'm not a dog. You do know that?"

"Yes, you are a dragon. Or so you claim." She walked beyond the threshold and held onto the door handle. She gave Irina a polite smile. "Good day, Dragonborn."

And so, the door shut, leaving Irina with only the company of her own mind.

Immediately, she walked to the candlestick and attempted to pull it up. The thing didn't budge an inch. Either it was built into the desk, or some sort of strong adhesive was used to secure it. Nonetheless, the thing obviously wasn't going to budge, and therefore, it was little help to her.

Next, she grabbed the chair and dragged it over to the small window. She could hardly reach the thing, even on the unsteady chair, but she stood atop her tip-toes and attempted to peer into the outside world. It was a pure, bleaching white for as far as the eye could see. She bit her lip and chewed the flesh between her teeth— the cold was definitely going to make running on foot a much more difficult process, but technically not impossible. No. All she needed was a lockpick, some proper shoes, a cloak, this fucking collar off and—

"Already exploring, I see." Irina damn near fell off her chair, only catching her balance at the last second. She whipped her head towards the doorway to see Solas standing there with a tray of food. Behind him, the guard looked disapprovingly.

She climbed down slowly, never breaking eye contact with the elf. "May I ask how long you were standing there for?"

"Do not worry, I've only just arrived," he said. He placed the tray down, and Irina cautiously walked over to retrieve the food. She wanted to act like she had some dignity, but the smell of fresh meat made her stomach grumble and her mouth water. Quickly, she sat on the bed and, like a starved beast, dug viciously into her meal.

She'd nearly forgotten about her visitor until he spoke again. "How are you feeling?"

She glanced at him as she devoured her bread; she spoke between mouthfuls. "Hungry, obviously."

"No pain."

"None," she said. Her hands found the goblet of water, and she drank deeply. After a moment, she stopped and whipped her mouth with the back of her hand. "That is if you don't count my head, my ribs, my arms, my legs— about most of my body."

Solas grimaced. He wrote something down in his journal. "I will make sure to bring you a healing draught tomorrow morning," he said. "Moving on, I hope you are prepared to answer some questions about your origins, as well as your magical capabilities."

She knew this was coming as soon as she'd seen the Spymaster step into her cell. "This is about yesterday, huh?"

"You must understand, Irina, what you did should be impossible. Arguably, it has destroyed a key factor of what we know as the Rite of Tranquility, that it is able to permanently sterilize the magic of mages."

Mage. If Edelweiss had heard anyone call Irina that, she would've bursted her stomach from laughing so hard.

"Okay, I get it," Irina said. She shifted in the bed to get more comfortable; it was the least she was owed. "Ask away."

Solas nodded. He walked over to the abandoned chair and looked at her. "May I?"

She shrugged. "Knock yourself out."

He pulled the chair over and sat down in it. The inked tip of his quill glistened in the firelight as he adjusted the book. Then, he spoke.

"Where are you from?"

Oh, so it was going to be that type of interrogation.

"Told you this already. A lil' place called Valenwood somewhere down south."

"Can you describe Valenwood?"

"Lots of trees, elves, and giant bugs. Pretty toasty in the summer and barely cold in the deadest of winter. We worship a magic tree god named Y'ffre as well as an assortment of other deities; therefore eating plants is pretty much a big no-no."

"Do you have any family?"

"My sister. That's it."

"Where is your sister now?"

"I'm not going to answer that."

"You—"

"Drop it."

Hearing the venom in her voice, Solas moved on. "How old were you when your magic first manifested?"

"The first time I ever used it, I had to be twenty."

"Quite a late start."

Irina looked at him strangely. "I think I was actually kinda early. At least that's what my mentors always told me."

Solas's expression mirrored her own. "Mages in your village acquire magic late in life?"

"What?"

"You say you acquired access to the Fade at twenty. Most mages manifest their abilities near the age of ten."

Ten? From Man to Mer to Beastfolk, everyone had access to magic as soon as they left the womb.

"I meant my thu'um," she clarified. "You know, the dragon thing."

"Can you use regular magic?"

"Well, yeah. Of course. I manifested my abilities at the age of nine."

"You are sure?"

"Don't see why I wouldn't be."

Solas scribbled something down in his journal and turned the page. "And your… draconic abilities manifested at age twenty, correct?" Irina nodded. "Tell me about that experience."

How to describe it? It was exhilarating and terrifying all at once. Some part of her was lost and burned in Helgen, and something new rose from its ashes.

"It felt natural," she said, almost wistful. "Like I'd always known to do it, I'd just forgotten. Like a flute, you haven't played since you were a kid and rediscovered as an adult. It was… everything."

It was destiny. Cruel and beautiful.

"Do you have any idea how you manifested these abilities?"

"Told you, bloodlines." All Dragonborn were related to their lovely father, Auri-el.

"And how do they work?"

"No clue." Which technically was the truth. "I just say something, and something else happens."

Solas hummed, his pen dashed along the blank pages of the journal. "One final question, and then I shall leave you to yourself," he said. He looked her directly in the eyes. "What did you say to that dragon?"

"I wonder."

"It is imperative that you answer. It could get the advisors to trust you. They may even provide leniency."

Irina laughed bitterly. Considering the shit she just went through, it seemed like trust was completely off the table. More like cautious tolerance of a problem that could get worse. "Even if I tell you, I doubt they'll believe me."

"But there is a chance," Solas said. The intensity of his stare rubbed her the wrong way. He was searching for something, she didn't know what. She hated that she didn't.

"Let's just say I am searching for someone," she said. "Someone who should've stayed home but wandered over here somehow. That dragon had information I needed."

"Could you give a name?" Solas asked. "Perhaps the Spymaster or the Commander may know who you are looking for."

"Doubt it. He isn't exactly known around these parts." No matter how much he should be noticeable. "Only I really know him here." And only I am aware of the destruction he's capable of. "So the scrolls have foretold. I will say no more on the subject."

There was one eerie stretch of silence before Solas closed his notebook and stood up. "I will return tomorrow to evaluate your conditions and ask more questions." As he moved towards the doorway, he said; "Good night, lethallan."

Irina gave no reply. She didn't move until she heard the heavy thud of the door once more and the click of the lock. It was then she deftly got up from the bed and walked quietly towards the door. Her knees hit the wood slowly, as she first pressed her ear flat against the solid wood, listening intently to the sounds of the hall. And then she peered through the open keyhole. In front of her was a stone wall, barely lit by torchlight but just enough to see the shadow of the guard cast upon the wall. Her fists tightened in the grip of her skirt— if she could just makeshift a key, then she could easily knock them out.

But alas, the only piece of metal in this room was glued down to the fucking dresser.

She pulled back from the door with a sigh. She then found herself gazing at the window.

She once again grabbed the chair and pulled it towards the window. For a while, she merely watched the snow fall delicately from the sky onto the land. When she'd first arrived on High Hrothgar, before she walked into the ancient temple, she took a moment to marvel at how the white drops seemed to wrap the mountain and surrounding land in a large, frosty blanket.

Valenwood hardly ever got snow, and when it touched Y'ffre's land it either melted and froze, or melted completely. Cyrodiil got some snowstorms, which traveled over from the icy peaks of Skyrim, but even that was nothing compared to the winter wonder that existed in some parts of Skyrim.

It was an odd duality. The ice killed off plant life and forced animals to either rest or scavenge for food in a white and cold desert. Her skin felt like an ice atronach had just given her a long hug, her hair was rustled askew by the strong winds of the mountain, and her fingers had barely any feeling left in them.

Yet, she found herself at somewhat peace despite it all. Above the black tip of the mountain peak, stretched a dark starry sky she could almost get lost in, with white flakes floating down delicately from the heavens. Beyond this small window laid a similar, yet unfamiliar landscape.

Before she knew it, hours had passed. She drifted drearily from the chair to the bed and closed her eyes.

With a mighty screech, Sahloknir fell. Air coursed through Irina's lungs as she took deep mouthfuls of air. She gave herself a once over. The ends of her hair had been badly scorched, and so did her clothes. Her left arm poured blood into the snow as a deep gash throbbed painfully. Edelweiss rushed over to her side and placed a hand on her shoulder to steady her. Irina hadn't even known she was tipping over.

"You alright?" the Altmer asked. Irina nodded.

"Good as I can be after fighting a dragon," she said. She looked Elle up and down— besides some cuts and bruises, nothing seemed to be wrong. At least, nothing fatal. "You?"

Edelweiss nodded. "Same here."

Irina took a glance at Delphine. The woman didn't look to be in much better shape, but her face didn't show it. A manic glint flashed in her eyes as she stared at the dragon.

"I'll be damned, you did it!" she said. Breathlessly, she laughed and began walking over to the dragon. "That was well done. Come on. I've been wanting a closer look at one of these buggers. Wait." she stopped and gawked as the dragon began to glow like firelight. She unsheathed her sword immediately at this progression. "Something's happening...gods above!"

The flesh of the dragon melted away into golden streaks that traveled from its decrepit skeleton into Irina. She breathed in deep and closed her eyes as the essence of the dragon began to fill her, reveling in the comfort and power the soul provided. After a moment, she opened them and looked at Delphine, her eyes wide and her mouth hanging open.

"Believe me now?" asked Irina.

The words snapped the Blade out of her stupor. She laughed once again, this time, there was an undertone of incredulous disbelief mixed into it. "By the nine…" Her hands swept through her hair as she stared at the Bosmer. "It's true, isn't it? You're Dragonborn, I…I owe you some answers, don't I?"

Edelweiss snorted. "Damn right."

The Altmer groaned as Irina swiftly kicked her foot.

Delphine glanced quickly at her companion, but said nothing. She looked Iirna in the eye. "Go ahead, ask anything. Nothing held back."

Oh, she was surely going to take this odd Nord up on her offer.

Irina straightened herself up. "Just who exactly are you, and what do you want with me?"

"I'm one of the last remaining members of the Blades."

"The Blades?" Elle said. "Shit, I thought you guys went extinct after the Mede dynasty took over."

"You and everybody else," Delphine said. There was a bitter tone in her voice. "A long time ago, we were dragonslayers serving under the greatest dragonslayer, the Dragonborn." She eyed Irina. "Ever since the last dragonborn emperor, we've been searching for a purpose. Now that the dragons are back and you're here, that purpose is clear. We need to stop them."

"That's well and good." And also a lot to take in, Irina thought. "But how exactly are we supposed to stop the dragons? I mean, as much as I can prevent magic dragon necromancy and can't exactly slay every single one of them."

Delphine placed her hands on her hips. "That's why we need to figure out just who's behind these dragon attacks. Our best lead is the Thalmor. I"

Elle shook her head. "Doubt it." Delphine looked at her strangely.

"You do?"

"As much as the Thalmor are always sticking their nose in everything, I do not think they're our best bet," said the Altmer. "If they had access to dragons, they would be using an army of them to storm the capital of Cyrodiil, not prolonging a war they would have already presumably won."

"Then what do you suggest?" The question was proposed as more of a challenge than an actual question. Irina thought for a moment, then piped up.

"The Greybeards would probably know something," said Irina. "They're all about the way of the voice, I don't see why they wouldn't know anything pertaining to the guys that use it all the time."

"I was thinking more of Winterhold's College, honestly," Elle replied. "One of the professors is bound to know something. Mages always do."

Delphine snorted. "The Greybeards are as willing to share information as the Thalmor, and the College would only be interested in the magic of the situation, not the situation itself," she said. "Our best bet is still the Thalmor. If they aren't involved, they know who is."

Elle said nothing. She turned to look at Irina, who could glean what she was trying to say in just one glance.

It's up to you.

The Bosmer thought carefully. It was probably too soon for the College to truly know anything. As for the Graybeards, she wasn't sure. Honestly, she suspected that Arengir knew something more than what he was letting on, but she wasn't sure of how to wrangle it out of him. From her own experience, trying to steal information from the Thalmor was a risky and nearly suicide-seeking situation. However, it may be rewarding.

After a minute, she spoke.

"Perhaps we should take a risk with the Thalmor."

Delphine looked pleased with her decision, Edelweiss not so much. But the Altmer kept her opinions to herself, though Irina already knew the root of her worry. They'd speak on it later.

"But," Irina said. "I don't exactly know where we'd find said information. It's not like we can kidnap an agent, interrogate him and expect him to know something."

"If we could get into the Thalmor embassy… it's the center of their operations in Skyrim." The Nord said. "Problem is, it's locked up tighter than a miser's purse."

"Also, it's pretty suicidal." Elle said. "If you want to infiltrate a Thalmor embassy in the middle of a country they are already very wary of, then unless you go in there with a permit signed by the Grand Inquisitor himself, expect to get blown to bits before even knocking on the gate."

Delphine bit her lip. "There has to be a way."

"What about those parties they have?" Irina said. Both women looked at her strangely. "Y'know the ones where they invite all the important people for a grand old, rich-dick time?"

Elle looked stumped until realization dawned on her face. "Oh, oh! I know exactly what you're saying. But still that's only by invitation and those are hard to get. Much less forge."

"I'll pull something together," said Delphine. "Meet me back in Riverwood in a week at sundown. If I'm not there, wait for me."

"What are you planning?" Irina asked.

"You'll see." She sheathed her sword and looked at the cloudy visage that lay above. "Keep an eye on the sky. This is only going to get worse."