Cura could not sleep that night. So many things weighed upon her heart, like an anchor pressing it down.

Elenwen, the First Emissary of the Aldmeri Dominion was her biological mother. What did this mean?

What did this make Cura, in the end?

Ulfric Stormcloak, the leader of the Stormcloak rebellion and Jarl of Eastmarch, descendant of Ysgramor, the First of the Companions, was her biological father.

Yet, she disagreed with the both of them, and their organizations.

Cura agreed that Talos was, in fact, one of the Divines, even if she did not follow him. But just as well, she would never do so because of whst he had done to get there.

In a way, she could see where the Thalmor were coming from, but their methods were cruel and unwarranted.

Cura ultimately loved the Empire. She wanted to see it succeed, because success of the Empire would be success for the people. Though, by her oath as a Vigilant of Stendarr, she is sworn to remain parallel to politics. However, it seemed as though they were unavoidable.

The words of Idolaf Battle-Born rung in her head; "Sooner or later, we all have to choose a side."

Elenwen, Ulfric, Tullius, Carcette, Delphine.

Cura felt like she was being stretched and pulled in all directions. Where, in the event of true need, would her loyalties lie?

Come to think of it, if Ulfric was her father, wouldn't that mean that her true name should be Cura Stormcloak?

It had a nice ring to it, to be sure. Though, it would be better if she did not use that, for everyone's sake. Everyone already knew her as 'Cura of the Pale' anyways. Why fix what isn't broken?

Cura sighed to herself. Things have just become far more complicated. She should have listened to Keeper Carcette and stayed with the Vigil. Life was so much easier back then, before Helgen. Those days of praying before the shrine in the warm comfort of the Hall, of training her Restoration skills with the Keeper, of learning about the world and honing her Alchemy with Brother Adalvald, and sparring with Vigilant Tolan were over. It was far too late to reverse the clock, even if there were a Shout to do it, and she had seen and done too much to ever be the same little Half-Elf she once was again. The only thing left was to keep moving forward and growing stronger.

Then she remembered that she promised to aid Vigilant Tyrannus in his excursion in Markarth.

Sure, she could do that.

But perhaps she should first get the information to Delphine, that wretch.

Cura leaned over the edge of her bed at the Inn. She saw Inigo still sleeping there.

Well, she'd be done before long. As well, Vigilant Tyrannus himself was a capable warrior. She could go with him, alone. No allies needed.

"Are you about to disappear again?" Inigo asked her from his bed as she reached the door.

He was awake, just laying there. Much like a cat.

"I was going to get something to drink." Cura lied.

"In your armour?" Inigo pointed to her ensemble. "I know the Nords can get rowdy, but that is s bit overkill for a bar fight."

Cura sighed. "I can't sleep, Inigo. I just need something to do."

"We can play a rhyming game." Inigo suggested.

Cura didn't even crack a smile. She was down in the dumps. "No, not right now."

"Is there something wrong?" Inigo asked, a little concerned.

"I've... been through a lot." Cura sighed, rubbing her forehead. "My whole life has been changed."

"For the better, I think." Inigo stated. "You are Thane in two holds, you are the Dragonborn, and you own your own home! That is a big plus in my book!"

"That's true, but..." Cura looked around first before closing in with a whisper. "Can you keep a secret? What I learned yesterday..."

Inigo nodded.

"I found out who my parents are." Cura rubbed her hands together nervously. "But... I can't talk about it. For Skyrim's sake."

"Wow! Is it that important? Who is it, Emperor Titus Mede and Elenwen of the Thalmor?" Inigo began to laugh.

Cura found no humour in it. Dhe leaned forward and whispered with great caution. "Ulfric Stormcloak. Not the Emperor."

Smooth, Cura. Not even twenty-four hours in and you've already exposed that secret. She cursed herself.

Inigo's jaw nearly hit the ground. "Whaaaat...?"

"Don't tell a soul!" Cura demanded, pointing a finger at his face. "Or I'll..."

"Don't worry, friend! I very capable of keeping a secret!" Inigo reassured. "Except that one time I accidentally slipped up about my friend Felix's ingrown hairs."

A silence overtook the room. "...Those two times." Inigo corrected himself.

"You've been warned." Cura stated freshly. She looked around and then spoke once more. "Look; I'm going to meet with Delphine again, alone."

"No, I am going to go with you." Inigo insisted. "We all are. You cannot keep us in the dark forever."

He was right. If Cura needed their help, she could more or less cue them in on the details. "All right. When everyone is awake, I'll explain everything."

"We already heard." Lydia spoke from the doorway, and Mjoll stood beside her. "These walls aren't soundproof, you know."

"H..how much did you hear?" Cura was surprised.

"Enough." Lydia shrugged. "About what you learned at the Thalmor Embassy yesterday."

"Please, say nothing to anyone about this. Not for my sake, but for Skyrim's sake." Cura asked.

"I will be silent as the grave." Mjoll attempted to assure her.

"I don't believe that for a second." Cura doubted Mjoll's ability to keep silent after the small debacle at the Hall of the Vigilant.

"I will try my best, I promise upon my honour." Mjoll held up a hand in declaration.

"Same with me." Lydia promised in accord.

Cura supposed she would just need to have faith in her friends. "So... I'm going to meet with Delphine. Come along if you're up to the task."

"You're just talking to her... how hard can that be?" Lydia raised an eyebrow in disbelief.

"Oh, you have no idea." Cura walked ahead.

It didn't take long for her to reach the Sleeping Giant Inn in Riverwood, though it did take some time to explain the situation to her allies along the way. Thankfully, her ability to Fast Travel made distances short, but nauseating, unfortunately.


Delphine looked up from the map of Dragon tombs to see Cura descending the stairs. She could see the worn out expressionn lain across the young Breton's face, and consoled her. "You made it out alive, at least. Your gear's safe in my room, as promised." She pointed to the little chest in the side of the room.

"Did you learn anything useful?" Delphine inquired as Cura passed by her.

Cura immediately went and retrieved Dawnbreaker. "The Thalmor know nothing about the dragons. It was exactly what I thought."

"Really? That seems hard to believe. You're sure about that?" Delphine raised a brow. Sheesh. If she had that low confidence in Cura, she should have gone herself. It would have spared her the heartache, st least.

"Why'd you send her if you weren't going to believe her?" Lydia interjected from the entrance.

Mjoll and Inigo joined, and Delphine recognized their faces from a while back, but was upset by their presence.

"Who are they? I thought I made it clear -" Delphine began.

"They're my allies. They're sticking out their necks for your cause, too, so they deserve to know what's going on." Cura defended the presence of her friends.

"You're right, you're right." Delphine relented. "I suppose more hands do make for lighter lifting."

"Why did you think to send Cura to the Thalmor?" Mjoll asked. "What on Nirn were you hoping to achieve? Far as I can tell, all you accomplished was making Cura known to them. Good move, that." She rolled her eyes in disbelief of Delphine's carelessness. "If they would've killed her, there goes the Dragonborn, and Tamriel with her!"

Cura nodded. Mjoll made an excellent point against Delphine there. It was ultimately a reckless move. She should have had Malborn do it instead, come to think of it, since he was already there. Or did she not trust him as much as she let on?

"I just... I was sure it must have been them." Delphine confessed her error. "If not the Thalmor, who? Or... what?" Delphine got back to the point.

Inigo was rummaging through the shelves when he came upon a case filled with what looked like water. "Oh, good, I was thirsty." Inigo opened one of the bottles.

"Don't drink that!" Delphine cried out. "It's very expensive."

Inigo paused and read the label. "Bathwater." The cat's face curled in disgust as he put it back on the shelf. At least now he had an idea to where Delphine's gotten her funds.

"Maybe it's the Black Dragon, Alduin. Nothing more, nothing less." Lydia proposed, ignoring the Khajiit's shenanigans.

"I don't know, but the Thalmor are looking for someone named Esbern." Cura placed the dossiers on the desk, presenting her evidence.

"Esbern? He's alive?" Delphine's tone softened with heartfelt surprise. Esbern must have been an old friend. "I thought the Thalmor must have got him years ago. That crazy old man... Figures the Thalmor would be on his trail, though, if they were trying to find out what's going on with the dragons."

"What would the Thalmor want with this Esbern fellow?" Inigo asked, scratching his furry chin. "He must be some prize."

"You mean, aside from wanting to kill every Blade they can lay their hands on?" Delphine glared at the cat, dumbfounded. "Esbern was one of the Blades archivists, back before the Thalmor smashed us during the Great War. He knew everything about the ancient dragonlore of the Blades. Obsessed with it, really. Nobody paid much attention back then. I guess he wasn't as crazy as we all thought."

"His dossier is there. I thought you might like to read it." Cura gestured towards it. "You're there, too. And Ulfric Stormcloak."

"Did they mention my slaughter of one of their attack teams?" Delphine smiled with nostalgic triumph. "Those elves are a lot of hot air." She opened the dossier and read Esbern's entry aloud.

"Status: Fugitive (Capture Only), Highest Priority, Emissary Level Approval

Description: Male, Nord, late 70s

Background: Esbern was one of the Blades loremasters prior to the First War Against the Empire. He was not a field agent, but is now believed to have been behind some of the most damaging operations carried out by the Blades during the pre-war years, including the Falinesti Incident and the breach of the Blue River Prison. His file had remained dormant for many years, an inexcusable error on the part of my predecessor (who has been recalled to Alinor for punishment and reeducation), in the erroneous belief that he was unlikely to pose a threat due to his advanced age and lack of field experience. A salutary reminder to all operational levels that no Blades agent should be considered low priority for any reason. All are to be found and justice exacted upon them.

Operational Notes: As we are still in the dark as to the cause and meaning of the return of the dragons, I have made capturing Esbern our top priority, as he is known to be one of the experts in the dragonlore of the Blades. Regrettably, we have yet to match their expertise on the subject of dragons, which was derived from their Akaviri origins and is still far superior to our own (which remains largely theoretical). The archives of Cloud Ruler Temple, which is believed to have been the primary repository of the oldest Blades lore, were largely destroyed during the siege, and although great effort has been made to reconstruct what was lost, it now appears that most of the records related to dragons were either removed or destroyed prior to our attack. Thus Esbern remains our best opportunity to learn how and why the dragons have returned. It cannot be ruled out that the Blades themselves are somehow connected to the dragons' return.

We have recently obtained solid information that Esbern is still alive and hiding somewhere in Riften. Interrogation of a possible eyewitness is on-going. We must proceed carefully to avoid Esbern becoming alerted to his danger. If he is indeed in Riften, he must not be given an opportunity to flee."

"So the Thalmor think the Blades know about the dragons..." Mjoll stated. "That's surreal, considering everything."

"Ironic, right?" Delphine remarked as she closed the book. "The old enemies assume that every calamity must be a plot by the other side... Even so, we've got to find Esbern before they do. He'll know how to stop the dragons if anybody does.

"Riften is a small city, but there are plenty of hiding places." Delphine mused as she began to pace the floor. "Probably down in the Ratway, then. It's where I'd go. You'd better get to Riften. Talk to Brynjolf. He's... well-connected. A good starting point at least."

"He must not have the best judgment, hiding among thieves." Mjoll stated. "They'd turn on him in the drop of a hat."

"I don't know." Cura doubted her. "I've got an... unfavourable history with the Guild. Why don't you go talk to them?" She had already put up with the Thalmor, and that took a lot out of her. Why would she go back to the Flagon?

"Are you serious?" Delphine's face fell. "Youth is wasted on the young, I swear..." she muttered under her breath.

"Yes. You were wrong once already. I don't want to fly into a potential underground war because of your assumption." Cura stated matter-of-factly.

"You're serious." Delphine looked stunned for a moment before letting her have it. "I'm maintaining my cover here, and safekeeping important documents. I've dedicated far more to this cause than you have! You're upset about the dossiers? Fine. But it was my money that got you to that party! Money I'd earned through means that one would find... lewd. It was my efforts that brought you into the fold!"

Cura fell silent. She wasn't wrong. Perhaps she was a little out of line. Delphine had given up a lot for that mission. She clearly broke her anonymity, at least, and for a paranoid person on the lam, that is pretty big.

"You discovered that our only hope of learning anything is alive, and in Riften. If he falls into enemy hands, all hope is lost. And for what, your precious ego?" Delphine snapped.

Cura stifled up. "Okay, I get it."

"So what are you doing here? Lorkhan's eyes, you can't let the Thalmor get to him first! Get back to Riften!" Delphine pointed up the stairs, barking her order.

"Wow, calm your boobs! Yeeeeesh." Inigo reacted to her sudden hostility.

"I think she is afraid to face the Thalmor, is what this is." Mjoll crossed her arms.

"Snowback." Lydia scoffed.

"Fine, I'll get Esbern." Cura sighed. "And we'll see what comes of that."

"Good luck." Delphine wished her, sending her off. "If he's initially uncooperative, mention the 30th of Frostfall. He'll know what it means."

Cura was of half a mind to turn Delphine in to the Thalmor, but decided against it. She headed outside. From Riverwood, the group Fast Travelled to Windhelm, where Cura entered the stables and withdrew Joile and Rex, and the group rode to Riften.

The Horses would be good for a quick getaway should they be pursued by Thalmor bout of the city, potentially.

After another Fast Travel to Riften, Cura began to notice something odd.

After the second consequent Travel in a row, she felt incredibly lightheaded. Were it not for Lydia, she would have fallen off of Joile upon arrival.

When Cura got off, she could feel her heart racing.

Some kind of adverse side effects?

She didn't know much about Fast Travel, or Thaumaturgy in general, but she began to consider the effects of abusing such power.

"Back in Riften." Mjoll scoffed. "Didn't take long at all."

"Look at it this way; you had almost a full two weeks' vacation." Lydia tried to show her the silver lining.

"And we'll be bargaining with the Thieves, as well." Mjoll crossed her arms. "It fills me with disgust."

"But it is necessary, though." Cura reminded her as she came back to reality. "The sooner we find Esbern, the better."

"I don't like it," Mjoll began. "but I suppose it can't be helped."

"Look at it this way, Mjoll; the Thieves may actually do something good for a change!" Inigo tried to cheer up the Nord woman.

As they entered the city, Cura noticed a strange orange Khajiit woman staring at the group before walking down the stairs headed towards the Bathhouse.

Cura did not like that, and decided to take note on her.

After a pass through the city and the Ratway, the group entered the Ragged Flagon, and immediately saw the Thieves pomping about, playing cards and laughing with drinks.

"She's baa-ack." Cura could hear Vex sing-saying this to Delvin.

"Oh, fer cryin' out loud." Delvin threw his head back in annoyance. "Look, whatever ye think we stole, I promise ya we di'in't this time. Ok?"

Cura headed straight to Brynjolf. "As much as I hate to ask this, I need your help."

Brynjolf scoffed. "Can you repeat that, Lass? If I'm gonna laugh my head off, I need to hear what you're saying."

Cura grit her teeth in irritation. "We have a friend that we need to find. Etienne told me he was in here somewhere."

"Etienne?" Brynjolf was surprised. "How do you know him?"

"She saved 'im from the Thalmor Embassy." Delvin interjected. "He told me all 'bout it."

Brynjolf was impressed. "So, you did a favour for the Guild. Ironic, that, given how high and mighty you were towards us." He scratched some dirt from under his nails. "I think I might know your friend. Some Elves came in asking about him a while ago."

"Let us find him first. His life is in danger!" Cura stated.

"What's it matter?" Brynjolf asked. Compassion was not in his repertoire.

"Dragons are bad for business." Inigo chimed in, pointing out the obvious. "This old friend can help us end them."

"Aye, you've got a point there." Brynjolf could not argue against that. He shrugged, and leaned forward. "Okay, head through the door behind the Flagon over there, and go into the Ratway Vaults. Further in you'll find the swellings of all the crazies, and probably your friend, as well."

Cura nodded. "All right. Thank you." She hurried through the door, and Lydia and Inigo hurried after her.

Mjoll stated behind for a moment longer and sneered at Brynjolf. "This had better not be a trap, or I will single-handedly slaughter your group."

"The Lioness bares her fangs." Vekel the Man laughed as he continued to sweep the floor.

The other Thieves chuckled as well, trying Mjoll's patience and self-control. She had to get out of there before she would make good on her promise.

After some time had passed, Thalmor soldiers and a few Wizards stormed into the Ratway, having been notified of the passed events.

A Thalmor Wizard demanded at the counter. "Where is she? The one who was asking about the fugitive hiding in the Ratway?"

Vekel shook his head. "You're in the wrong place to be asking those kind of questions, pal."

The Thalmor soldiers drew their weapons, ready to kill, and the Thieves were ready to retaliate.

The Wizard raised a hand to signal to the elves to calm themselves. "No. Not yet."

The Thalmor soldiers sheathe their weapons in response, and the Thieves did as well.

Vekel walked around the counter and put his broom down. "You'd better clear out before someone gets hurt."

The Thalmor scoffed smugly. "Your lack of cooperation has been noted. We'll be back if we require further information. You won't get a second chance."

Vekel crossed his arms. "The answer ain't gonna be any different the next time. Arrogant elven bastard."

The Altmer sneered and took a step forward, only to notice the door to the Ratway Vaults, though obscured in shadow, was open slightly. He then looked to his Soldiers and gestured towards it.


It was a winding path through the ravaged and rugged sewer system, but the group noticed something odd: a black and gold glove on the ground.

Inigo went down on one knee and took the glove up to his nose and smelled it. "It smells of High Elf."

"They've already come." Mjoll clicked her tongue in frustration. "Cura, as much as you want to avoid it, we may have to kill a few of them."

Cura shook her head. "We don't want to catch the ire of the Aldmeri Dominion. Skyrim has enough problems of its own already."

They walked through cramped tunnels and dropped off a ledge, where they saw a dead Altmer with a dagger in his throat laying there, missing a glove. Inigo gingerly slipped it back on his hand. "Looks like Skyrim will be in big trouble, then. Not because of us, but because of some angry lunatic."

Cura grit her teeth and checked the Altmer for a pulse with futility. "Well... that's... not good."

"Why you care is beyond me." Lydia remarked. "These Elves bring us nothing but misery. Started with the Night of Tears and never stopped."

"They're not all bad." Cura defended her other half. "There are Altmer out there who want peace, as well. And they don't all hate the Nords." She shrugged. "Some have even bore children with them."

Inigo stifled himself, and proceeded to hide the corpse of the Elf behind the bales of hay that were in that chamber.

"I'm sure I can reason with the Thalmor, even if they are the most vicious of Elvenkind." Cura pondered, and hoped.

"I have yet to see otherwise." Lydia scoffed of the notion of nice Altmer existing.

"I've met some kind Altmer in Cyrodiil." Mjoll confessed. "They disagreed with the Thalmor's way of governance, but feared speaking too openly about it."

"Because they would be captured and tortured for it." Cura explained. "I got a small glimpse of that at the embassy."

They came upon a clearing with many cells that acted as homes for the downtrodden and mentally insane.

One had to wonder why there were prison cells down here. Maybe in the old days, this was where criminals were thrown; among dank water and excrement. Cura's allies guarded the main entrance of the dingy sewers in case of Thalmor arrivals. It was only a matter of time before they would come looking for the dead one they walked past before.

Cura looked around the housing areas, where she heard crazy people talking to themselves, as well as a chef talking to herself maniacally about eating people while twirling a Blade in her hands and glaring at Cura. The Breton wanted to make this quick and be out of here.

Next to a Sweetroll Randomization Act Stand between two 'rooms', she saw a powerful fortified door, and approached it after grabbing one of the nice treats.

"Go away!" a masculine voice called from behind a heavily reinforced door the moment her footsteps were heard.

"Esbern?" Cura wanted to verify. "Open the door. I'm a friend."

"What?! No, that's not me. I'm not Esbern. I don't know what you're talking about." the man panicked.

"It's okay. Delphine sent me." Cura tried to reassure him, now knowing it to be him for a fact.

"Delphine? How do you... so you've finally found her, and she led you to me. And here I am, caught like a rat in a trap." he presumed.

"The Thalmor have found you. You need to get out of here." Cura warned him.

"Oh, how reassuring! Most likely you're with the Thalmor and this is just a trick to get me to open the door!"

"I'm the one the Blades have been searching for." Cura pleaded with him to see reason. "I'm a Dragonborn."

"What's that you said? Dragonborn? Then... there really is hope after all?" then a moment of silence passed. "No! You could just be telling me what I want to hear to lure me out. Classic Thalmor trick."

"Delphine said to "remember the 30th of Frostfall."' Cura stated loudly and clearly, growing tired of this charade.

"Ah. Indeed, indeed. I do remember." Esbern's voice turned to one of acknowledgement. "Delphine really is alive, then? You'd better come in then and tell me how you found me and what you want."

He closed the small door window that showed his eyes to the Breton, and slid something on the other side. Then, his voice came through again. "This'll just take a moment..."

A moment passed, a lock shifted.

"This one always sticks... there we go."

Cura stepped back and crossed her arms. This man had so many locks on his door. True paranoia on full display, here; but given his position in the Thalmor's eyes, it made perfect sense.

"Only a couple more."

She could hear locks hitting the floor on the other side.

"There we are!"

A shutter sound clanked.

"Come in, come in! Make yourself at home." Esbern opened wide the door and gestured for her to enter.

It was a dark, depressing little hobble with papers strewn about, many books that were no doubt read a thousand times each, a couple of Mead barrels on the west side, a counter with a blue armour set and a remarkable long sword with a curved tip, next to a rugged bed. There were cobwebs stretched from corner to corner of the room. It was unfit for a Skeever, much less a Human life.

"That's better. Now we can talk." Esbern closed the door.

"The Thalmor have found you. We have to get out of here." Cura informed him, recalling the dead Elf in the other room.

"Yes, yes, so you said. But so what? The end is upon us. I may as well die here as anywhere else. I'm tired of running." Esbern dismissed as he slowly walked to his mead barrel.

"Didn't seem that way to me, given the thousands of locks on your door." Cura pointed out with a lighthearted laugh. That certainly didn't seem the motions of a man who's given up on life. "And, What do you mean, "the end is upon us"?"

"Haven't you figured it out yet? What more needs to happen before you all wake up and see what's going on?" Esbern snapped angrily. "Alduin has returned, just like the prophecy said! The Dragon from the dawn of time, who devours the souls of the dead! No one can escape his hunger, here or in the afterlife! Alduin will devour all things and the world will end. Nothing can stop him." Esbern stared at the honeydrink in his cup and twirled it around lightly, gazing at his reflection. "I tried to tell them. They wouldn't listen. Fools. It's all come true... all I could do was watch our doom approach..."

"Alduin..." Cura stated her foe's name. The Dragon who threw her entire life out of balance on that awful day in Helgen, and yet, saved her from certain doom, as well. She began to wonder if it was intentional on his part.

"Yes, yes! You see, you know but you refuse to understand! Oh, yes. It's all been foretold. The end has begun. Alduin has returned. Only a Dragonborn can stop him. But no Dragonborn has been known for centuries. It seems the gods have grown tired of us. They've left us to our fate, as the plaything of Alduin the World-Eater." Esbern trembled at the thought of his soul being devoured.

But Cura has seen no evidence of Alduin doing that, as the legends spoke. He was up to something, all right, but it involved a Kingdom of some kind, if what he said to Sahlokniir was true.

"And the Scrolls have foretold of black wings in the cold, That when brothers wage war come unfurled! Alduin, Bane of Kings, ancient shadow unbound, With a hunger to swallow the world!" Esbern quoted an ancient text through panicked, and gritted teeth.

"It's not hopeless, Esbern. I'm Dragonborn." Cura tried to offer solace to the panicking old man.

"What? You're... can it really be true? Dragonborn?" Esbern asked Cura. "No... you're... you're only trying to comfort me. I appreciate it, but-"

"FEIM!" Cura shouted, turning herself transparent before his very eyes. She chose the least-damaging Shout she knew for this demonstration so as not to wreck his small makeshift home.

Esbern stared at her, mouth agape when he finally processed what he had just witnessed. "You... you truly are Dragonborn! Then... then there is hope! The gods have not abandoned us! We must... we must... We must go, quickly now. Take me to Delphine. We have much to discuss."

"The gods would never abandon us." Cura reassured him. "I believe that... as strange as it may sound... that I was brought here by Stendarr. As an act of mercy for Tamriel."

"Then mighty Stuhn be praised!" Esbern smiled, his hope renewed as he cut past Cura and headed to the other side of the room. "Give me... just a moment... I must gather a few things..." He began to rummage through the desks. "I'll need this... No, no, useless trash... where'd I put my annotated Anuad?"

Cura leaned against the wall and began to wait. The wall was damp and wet, due to the cavernous nature of the Warrens. "What happened on the 30th of Frostfall?" she asked out of curiosity as she watched the old man scurry back and forth.

Esbern began to gingerly explain as he rummaged through a chest behind the counter and took up a Dark Leather Knapsack. "It was a cold day. The end of Frostfall is nearly winter in the Jerall Mountains. We heard the news at Cloud Ruler by courier, riding hard from the Imperial City. 30th of Frostfall, 171. Approximately Thirty years ago. The Great War started that day. The Thalmor ambassador delivered his ultimatum to the Emperor Titus Mede: the heads of every Blades agent within the Aldmeri Dominion. I knew, that day, that it was truly the beginning of the end." Esbern's voice fell forlorn.

"That's a shame..." Cura remarked. "The Thalmor really did a number on the Blades."

"Reduced us from a mighty organization to myself and Delphine." Esbern's voice was gruff and strained. Cura could hear a silent fury brewing beneath, but the old man simply let it go with a snort. "One moment, I know time is of the essence, but mustn't leave secrets for the Thalmor... there's one more thing I must bring..." Esbern opened a chest and took out a parchment, then quickly pocketed it. He fit on the dark, worn blue armour. "Where is Delphine hiding, anyways?"

"The Sleeping Giant Inn in Riverwood." Cura stated.

Immediately, Cura heard shouting outside and blasts of lightning.

The Thalmor have come!

She slightly opened the door and peeked outside. "Oh, drat it! They're here!"

Esbern fitted his sword on his hip. "Fine, if they want a Blade, it's a blade they're going to get! Open the door." He commanded Cura.

Cura hesitantly opened the door, and Ebern rushed through it, leaning forward with a hand on the hilt of the sword, and dashed towards the Elf who approached, and cleaved him in half with a quick, well-placed horizontal slash. He sheathed the blade and again dashed forward and unsheathed his fury on another Thalmor.

Cura could only watch in dumbfounded surprise at the immense skill this old man had. He was cutting the elves down like paper, with great hatred.

Cura ran ahead while Esbern and her allies worked on the Thalmor, to scout and see if there were reinforcements in the upper tunnel. It was then when a Nord man in a green shirt emerged from the shadows, and saw Cura.

"Hey! Get out of here! It's not safe!" Cura waved her hand with her mace in it to the side divert the man's route and get his attention, which proved to be an error in judgment.

The Nord looked to others in the shadows from the side tunnel, and shouted, pointing at Cura. "That's her! That's who Shavari was talking about! That's the Breton woman! Kill her!"

A familiar elven face rounded the corner. It was Rulindil, from the Embassy, who tortured Cura in a one-sided battle before the lot of them. Cura began to experience a kind of painful tingling sensation up her left arm, where she conducted the electricity from his lightning bolts.

"No-Elenwen wants her alive, you peon." Rulindil chastised the Nord before turning to Cura. "It's not too late; you can come the easy way, or the hard way. It's up to you, child." He narrowed his eyes at Cura and extended a hand.

More Thalmor began to pour in from behind him; all Justiciars, ready to shed blood through the halls.

"Somehow I knew you weren't just going to let me go." Cura smirked facetiously. She had Spellbreaker now. Let him do his worst.

"And we didn't buy that story about you trying to preserve the peace, either." Rulindil put it plainly. "You're dangerous to our mission here in Skyrim; more dangerous than you could possibly realize. Your very existence is a threat to the peace we've established in our halls. Herself wants you in Thalmor custody, then we can discuss the matters of you meeting with a member of the Blades."

Cura shook her head. "Then maybe 'Herself' should have kept her legs crossed. It's not my problem! I'm trying to save Skyrim, so if you don't mind, call off your men." The Half-Elf's eyes glared with ferocity.

Rulindil stiffened up in offense for a second before lashing out with a surprise bolt of lightning, which connected with Cura and sent her flying into the stone wall behind her. "How dare you insult the First Emissary like so! We're going to teach you a lesson for your audacity!" He turned to the other Soldiers, of which there were many. "Kill her friends. I'll deal with the whelp."

As Cura pulled herself up off the floor, the small legion of Thalmor rushed past her and into the main room where Esbern, Lydia, Mjoll, and Inigo fought like wild animals against the horde. There were at least fifty Altmer in all. They were not playing around.

"FUS RO-" Cura began a Shout, but was struck with lightning again, which caused her to cry out as pain tore through her body. Thank goodness she had a Breton-like physiology, otherwise she would probably be dead right now. Or perhaps the Dragon blood was protecting her, as well.

Cura could see many vibrant colours clouding her vision in dotted specks. The electricity was disorienting. She shook her head violently and rushed forward, holding up her shield.

Rulindil shot another bolt of lightning, but was floored when he realized that Spellbreaker absorbed it flawlessly by the energy that it emitted. When Cura came in close enough, she swung her shield violently, aiming for his stupid face, but the Elf ducked under the swing and then dodged to his right from Cura's follow-up swing of her mace. He then pivoted to the left, and spun around Cura, and pulled her back by her hood and then proceeded to wrap his hands around her throat.

Cura may be more powerful, but he was far more long-lived and experienced.

"YOL-hack! Gack!" Cura tried to Shout, but with the pressure around her throat, it was proving to be impossible.

"You really are Dragonborn." Rulindil raised an eyebrow. "The rumours circulating Solitude were true, then. You truly are a menace."

Cura swung her arm back and hit him in the face with her mace as he loomed above her from behind, causing him to release her and stagger backwards. "Gasp!" She heaved for air and held her neck softly and began to cough.

Rulindil could already feel his cheek beginning to swell from the broken blood vessels underneath. He spat blood out of his mouth and shot Cura in the stomach with an Ice Spike while she regained her footing. It was proving difficult for him not to kill her, or be killed by her. It was just the two of them at this point, and he deigned to speak. "You've the craft of Elenwen and the brutish nature of Ulfric. It's no surprise that you wouldn't make for an easy target."

Cura cast a Healing spell on herself and ran forward, engaging him once more. "Call. Off. Your. Men." she commanded. "NOW!" She slammed him in the stomach with her mace's head with a forward thrust, causing him to nearly lose his footing.

"The White take you!" Mjoll roared like a lioness as she cut the heads off three Elves with her Battleaxe, only to be stabbed in her side by one who snuck up from behind. Whirling around, the Nord headbutted him and drove her fist into his face, breaking it down to the bone. With clenched fists, Mjoll looked up to the ceiling. "GRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAH!" She emitted a violent War Cry that horrified the Altmer around her, and they began to flee from her. All became dark as Mjoll viciously ripped and tore apart every Altmer before her in a flurry of attacks spurred on by a berserker rage. Blood rained from above as she launched bodies into the air and mauled and tore and marred bone and rended flesh and peeled armour off of her foes in a gore-filled frenzy. Nothing mattered to her anymore; just kill. Kill whatever is in front.

In her eyes, she saw the Bandits who murdered her family and laughed mockingly at her while doing it. She saw the Dwemer construct that left her for dead after tearing her to near-shreds. Brutal rage consumed her and her reasonable mind took its backseat. Now, it was only primal instinct and hatred driving her awareness.

Lydia was terrified of what Mjoll became, trying to keep as big a distance as she could while the other Nord woman made known the reason why Nords were so feared as psychotic barbarians to begin with.

Inigo did one better; he saw a pipe along the wall and climbed it to reach the floor above, where he decided to pick Altmer off with arrows and remain out of Mjoll's sight.

Esbern cleared a path through the sea of magickal weapons and Elves attached to them, and hurried through the bottom exit, leaving the others to fend for themselves as fear overtook him. Horrifying memories of the Cloud Ruler slaughter filled his mind and fueled his steps. He had to reach Delphine.

Even if it meant leaving the Dragonborn to fend for herself. But if she couldn't deal with this, then there was no way she could handle Alduin.

"Lydia, are you doing well?" Inigo called out to her.

"Where-" Lydia began to frantically look around to find Inigo before realizing that he just plugged an arrow into the elf who was about to stab her in the throat.

"Up here!" Inigo waved to her lightheartedly from the balcony above.

"Are you serious?!" Lydia exclaimed. "How did you even-" Another Elf tried to attack her head-on. "Hey. I'm talking here!" Lydia angrily stabbed her and cut her down.

Inigo jumped from one part of the ledge he stood on to another as an Elf persistently shot Ice Spikes his way. Lydia shot that Elf with an arrow of her own, which passed over Mjoll's head to reach him.

Mjoll noticed the arrow, however, and ran towards Lydia, blinded by fury.

"Oh, no." Lydia slowly lowered her bow, realizing that she made a mistake.

Mjoll lunged forward and brought her battleaxe down and Lydia could only block it with her shield. The force of impact caused her knees to buckle, and Mjoll began to swing much more furiously against her fellow Nord, unawares. "Mjoll, snap out of it!" Lydia cried out, nay, pleaded for her life. "This isn't you!"

The Nord woman was rabid. She growled like a beast and continued to try and end Lydia then and there with a series of violent attacks. Lydia's back was against the wall in the most literal sense, blocking her from moving backwards. One berserker was enough. She couldn't just go berserk herself here and now, because then she would become a threat to everybody as well.

Mjoll alone had slaughtered thirty two of the fifty Elves and was now trying to add her body to the pile.

Inigo clicked his tongue as he focused on knocking an arrow coated with a paralyzing potion to put Mjoll out of commission for the moment. Before it could reach his bow, however, he was struck by a lightning bolt and fell off the balcony and hit the ground.

Mjoll headbutted Lydia and swung her battleaxe once her guard was broken, cutting Lydia across the chest. Thankfully, the Skyforge Steel was durable and held out most of the attack, guarding her flesh. Lydia fought back, driving her sword into Mjoll's thigh. "Snap out of it! Damn you!"

Rulindil was blasted through the wall and entered the fray, accompanied by a shockwave caused by Cura's Unrelenting Force. The Elves' attention was focused on the spectacle and Cura came in through the hole. Her eyes widened at the sheer horror that unfolded before her eyes; there were slaughtered elves everywhere, body parts strewn about, and Inigo lay face-first on the ground while Mjoll was in a blind rage and Lydia was trying her best to survive.

The elves closed in on Lydia and one shot a Bound Arrow into Mjoll's back. She turned around and cleaved one of the elves in half like a guillotine.

The elven troops dwindled and Rulindil looked upon it with horror. He looked at Cura, who seemed just as concerned as he was. "Retreat!" Rulundil commanded. He turned to Cura and wiped blood off his mouth. "This isn't over! Do you hear me?" He rushed past her and out through the halls.

The Nord informant tried to get his attention. "What about my pay?"

Rulindil responded by beheading him with a Bound Sword and continued running away as the remainder of his troops followed.

Cura hurried to Inigo and turned him around and checked his pulse to see that he was only unconscious. "Thank Stendarr..." She whispered softly as she held his head up and fed him a Healing Potion. The cat slowly began to stir shortly after. "...What...? What Planet am I on? Is this the one with the flying cheese...?"

Cura wrapped her arms around Inigo and pulled him into an embrace. Tears rolled down her cheeks. "I'm so glad you're all right..." She whimpered. It brought her back to that time with Hilde. The first time she'd lost her friend in an impossible situation.

"Of course! If a hanging rope, chickens, wizard, and Draugr could not kill me, how could elves?" Inigo laughed as he hugged Cura back.

Cura slowly released him from her grip and went to check on Lydia, who, all things considered, seemed to be doing well, if not a bit frazzled. "Lydia... what happened?"

"Mjoll went berserk." Lydia explained, wiping sweat off her forehead and pointing to the Lioness, who finally began to calm down.

Mjoll huffed like a wild beast as she stood in the center of the room, bathed in the blood of her foes, and nearly her friend, as well. A tear ran down her cheek as she looked up to the ceiling and took in the dank, blood-soaked air.

"I..." Mjoll finally spoke. She turned to look at Cura and Lydia, and the Housecarl stood between herself and Cura. "Did I do this?" Mjoll asked, mortified.

Inigo nodded. "Yes! You were like a monster on the battlefield! You put the greatest of Ogres to shame, and the Orcs would worship your footsteps!"

Some images were coming back from the fog. Mjoll walked up to Lydia. "Lydia, I... I'm so sorry. Are you all right?"

Lydia took a step back instinctively. "Not if I were wearing anything but Skyforge Steel."

Mjoll saw all the dead elves. "Wahh-!" She was horrified by the sheer brutality. Cutting an enemy down was one thing, but this was something else entirely. The Butcher would have been flattered by her handiwork. Mjoll cupped her hands over her mouth. "I... I did this..."

"Most of it, but we had a hand in it, too." Lydia explained. It was easy to see who killed who, given the few normally-killed bodies versus the ones missing parts.

"I see now why they call you the Lioness." Inigo laughed.

"I've seen enough death to last three lifetimes, yet I never tire of a good fight. What do you make of that?" Mjoll wiped some of the blood off her battleaxe to prevent future corrosion.

"I... don't know." Cura had no response. "I hate all the death and killing, but... it's necessary sometimes..." She began to look around the room. "Where did Esbern go?"

"I saw him run out through that gate." Lydia pointed to a now-locked sewer gate. "What a Milk Drinker."

Cura cast Grand Healing on herself and the group. "He's going to meet Delphine, I'm sure. I'm done with that."

"Done?" Inigo asked Cura.

"I'm not associating with them unless it's absolutely necessary. Alduin isn't going anywhere." Cura admitted. "They'll need some time to get things in order. I promised I'd help Vigilant Tyrannus in Markarth. If anything important comes up, Delphine can send me a courier letter."

Mjoll took a seat on one of the steps, away from the bloodsplatter. "Go ahead without me."

The group stared at her.

"Without you?" Lydia asked.

"Yes." Mjoll said sadly. "After what just happened... I... I lost control. I don't think I can be trusted with a party."

"No, Mjoll. You are a vital part of the team!" Inigo reassured her. "That was just a bad instance. We all have those! After all, I shot her in the head." He pointed at Cura, still convinced that his story was true.

"That didn't happen." Cura restated.

"It did, but you do not remember! I do." Inigo stated.

Mjoll shook her head. "I'm going to stay here in Riften... I need to... to gather my thoughts. Whatever this is, it's not going to get better on the road."

Lydia nodded. "You were pretty out of it."

"It's been a pleasure travelling with you, Dragonborn, but I feel I would be more of a hindrance than a help given the circumstances." Mjoll extended a hand.

"Mjoll..." Cura took her hand and gave it a shake. "I understand. Do what you need to do."

Mjoll nodded. "I think settling in Riften and helping the people here is what I'm meant to do. I don't ever want another situation like that again." A situation where she was backed into a corner by a swarm of foes from all sides; there were bound to be more of those, and perhaps the next time may cost Cura, Inigo, Lydia, or Mjoll their lives as well.

Inigo shook Mjoll's hand. "Maybe someday we can resume 'Inigo the Brave'! You were so close to the ending."

"I'd like that." Mjoll smiled as she reciprocated.

Lydia still maintained a slight distance. "You're a damn good fighter. Someday you should look up the Companions. They'd be happy to have you."

"I may consider it." Mjoll mused. "I'm sorry again, Lydia, for what I've done." She could see the unease that still hung there. It was, after all, only a short time ago that she tried to slaughter her. Mjoll had a temper, true, but had always prided herself on her self-control. This time, however, she lost it, and nearly killed her ally. She shuddered internally. "Protect Cura with your life." She told Lydia.

"Always." Lydia nodded as she left with Cura and Inigo.

Mjoll continued to sit there, ruminating on all that transpired as she sat alone among the carnage she created.

The Thieves Guild would do better not to pick a fight with her, she knew that much.

Eventually, after some meandering, Cura and her friends reached the outside, taking in the salty air and basking in the cool breeze.

"Poor Mjoll..." Cura stated. "she was so devastated..."

"Well, she helped us a lot." Inigo said. "She gave me a break from this one over here." He pointed at Lydia, who sneered at him.

"Well, cat," Lydia exhaled. "I hate to say it, but thanks for saving me back there, from those Elves."

Inigo nodded proudly. "It is always a pleasure to save an ally from a bully!"

As they headed up the wooden stairs, a Khajiit woman threw herself at Cura, an Elven Dagger riding the air. "And now you pay for meddling in the Thalmor's affairs!" One of their spies, no doubt, like the Nord man. Cura recognized her from when she entered the city.

Quickly, Cura blocked her with her shield and then smashed her head into the wooden boards, killing her. The city guards turned a blind eye, as they saw the Khajiit attack first.

"So, you're the one gave those Thalmor a black eye. Sure know how to pick your enemies, don't you?" One of the Guards asked as he approached.

Lydia looked at her wide-eyed. "We'd best get out of this city while we still can."

"Yes! It is proving to be most detrimental to our health!" Inigo agreed.

Cura acquiesced and continued running through the city. She wanted to search the Khajiit woman for clues, but it would be best to move on instead. They headed out through the gate and fled on horseback.