Stendarr's Dragon

by Midnight Coffee 64

I've decided to write a story based on my very first Dovahkiin, the Breton Paladin Cura! Raised in the Vigil of Stendarr, she goes on to save Skyrim in times of crisis in a Season Unending! Humble and meek by nature, Cura finds her values and general disposition challenged by the brutal world around her. *Decided to write this since Skyrim's 10th Anniversary! :)*

87. The Great Wyrm Hunt Part 2

Sky Haven Temple was dingy as it had been the last time Cura'd set foot in its halls, but at the very least there was improvement in visibility - torches and braziers were lit in various corners of the grand room, and Alduin's Wall was visible, clear as the day.

Cura approached the ancient mural and laid her hand upon the stonework, feelings its varying grooves and dents as she examined the full picture. Whoever crafted this was an incredible artist, she thought.

"Long time, no see, Dragonborn." came Delphine's condescending voice from the balcony above the mural. The Breton woman was no longer wearing her former Leather Armour, but instead donned an authoritative-looking indigo-coloured plated armour clearly of Akaviri origin. "Are you done meandering? Finally ready to settle down for some serious Dragonslaying?" She began to walk down the stairs behind the northern wall and emerged down on Cura, Lucien, and Inigo's level.

Inigo rolled his eyes immediately as Delphine approached. "I must say, you look a lot better with the torches off."

Delphine curled her lip in a snarl. "For all of our sakes, I'm going to choose to ignore that. We have important business to attend to."

Lucien pulled a seat at the long table with a book in his hand, and began to read. He figured that this was more Cura's business than his own. He'd seen the horrors of Dragons up close enough already.

"Yes, we do." Cura crossed her arms. "Did you learn anything new about Alduin?"

"We've determined that he was defeated by a Shout, but no records of it have shown." Delphine pointed to the large library they'd accrued over time. "We imported books discreetly through the Jerall Mountains by paid deliverymen, and some texts from the Imperial Synod themselves. None had what we were looking for, save for one stating the Shout caused the Black Dragon to lose his flight." Delphine embarrassingly massaged her forehead. Alas, she had to turn to the Dragonborn for a sliver of hope in this endeavour. "Have you ever heard of such a thing? A Shout that can knock a Dragon out of the sky?"

"Fus Ro Dah?" Lucien muttered snobbishly as he continued to flip through the book he was reading.

"Unrelenting Force had no effect on Alduin." Cura informed Lucien from her past experience before utterly disappointing Delphine, "No, I've never heard of anything like that." Even in her travels, she hadn't come across such a Shout, either by mural or by instinct.

Delphine clicked her tongue in annoyance. "I was afraid you were going to say that. I guess there's nothing for it. We'll have to ask the Greybeards for help. I hoped to avoid involving them in this, but we have no other choice."

Cura already knew this. It was as Martin told her in her vision last night. Though, in Delphine's tone, she detected a hint of irritation towards the Greybeards. "Why do you hate the Greybeards so much, Delphine? They've surely done you no wrong."

"If they had their way, you'd do nothing but sit up on their mountain with them and talk to the sky, or whatever it is they do." Delphine expressed her ignorance and indignance both in one fell swoop. "The Greybeards are so afraid of power that they won't use it. Think about it. Have they tried to stop the civil war, or done anything about Alduin? No. And they're afraid of you, of your power." She pointed directly at Cura.

"Afraid of me?" Cura was taken aback by the notion. Though, considering her penchant for volatility, it was understandable, as the people of Markarth could attest to.

Delphine laid a hand on her arm reassuringly. "Trust me, there's no need to be afraid. Think of Tiber Septim. Do you think he'd have founded the Empire if he'd listened to the Greybeards?"

"Probably not." Cura shrugged. "But how do you know they tried to discourage him from it? All they ever did was urge me to use my power responsibly and don't rush to learn too much all at once. They haven't stopped me once. But they are right. This power is dangerous."

Delphine prodded her further. "Only if you don't know how to use it. All the great heroes have had to learn to use their power. Those that shrank from their destiny... well, you've never heard of them, have you? And there are the villains - those that misused their power. There's always a choice, and there's always a risk. But if you live in fear of what might go wrong, you'll end up doing nothing. Like the Greybeards up on their mountain."

Cura shook her head. "While I agree with your point, I feel you're being too harsh towards the Greybeards. They're men of peace, not war. And their voice alone could destroy you where you stand right now, from up on their mountain. Be thankful they're kind old men."

As she said this, the group was certain they felt a faint rumble in the room. Streams of dust fell from the ceiling with tiny pebble stones before the room calmed. Delphine looked frightful for the first time in ages.

"Sorry. I think that was me." Inigo remarked as he began to fan the air behind his lower back.

Cura smirked and shook her head. "No, that was my Thu'um... I got a little excited there."

"Yes... yes, that was what it was. Forget what I said!" Inigo tried to cover up.

"Nice try, Inigo." Lucien laughed. "You can't hide it now."

"I'm learning my powers with good reason." Cura returned to the conversation with Delphine, hoping to get her off her back.

"Good. The Greybeards can teach you a lot, but don't let them turn you away from your destiny. You're Dragonborn, and you're the only one who can stop Alduin. Don't forget it." Delphine boldly reasserted.

"I'm not shrinking from my destiny. Don't worry." Cura reassured Delphine of that fact. "Gosh, you're more nagging than Keeper Carcette."

Delphine scoffed. "I'll try not to take that one personally."

"So, Arngeir. I guess he'll know something about the Shout." Cura mused. Or, he'll redirect her to Paarthurnax.

"Right. Good thing they've already let you into their little cult. Not likely they'd help Esbern or me if we came calling." Delphine expressed mockingly before shifting in her general demeanour. It was certain that she was about to ask Cura for something else, and she did not disappoint. "There's also another matter, but we'll speak with Esbern for it." Delphine told Cura, and she gestured the Dragonborn follow her to the backrooms.

Once arrived, Cura and her allies saw Esbern sitting at his desk, quill in hand over a long sheet of paper. When he saw Delphine, he gestured towards a large pile of papers on his desk. "I've been writing some notes about all the Akaviri designs we've discovered. If only the Imperial Library could see my research."

Delphine crossed her arms and leaned on the wall nearby, allowing Cura entry. "Esbern, if the Empire could even acknowledge the Blades existence, we'd all have reason to celebrate."

Esbern shook his finger disapprovingly. "Now, now my dear. I'm talking about academia, not politics."

Delphine scoffed. "There's a difference?"

Esbern turned his gaze onto Cura, and he appeared incredibly serious in his disposition.

"What's going on?" Cura asked the old man as she saw the blank paper before him. "Is everything all right?"

"Come here, let me have a look at you." Esbern requested Cura step into the light of the wall sconce above him. "I'm writing a detailed account of the Dragonborn, as the Blades have done since Reman Cyrodiil. I need to note some things about your physical appearance."

Cura looked at her allies with confusion, but Lucien set her at ease. "Oh, yes. Chroniclers would also do that for the various Emperors in Tamriel's history. They would give accounts of their life as well as family, friends, and what they looked like."

"And we can change the less glamorous things if you want." Delphine added in.

Cura resigned herself. "Fine. What is there to this?"

Esbern continued to write. "Female, appeared to be a Breton with shoulder-length blonde hair streaked with white on the left quarter, with eyes green like emerald, and fair-skinned. Soft face riddled with the scars of battle."

Cura was stunned how he assumed she was a Breton. Though, she didn't mind. She admired the people of High Rock, was raised by one, and knew that it would cause less political drama if people in the Empire's higher places read this about her. Her being the daughter of a Thalmor and the Stormcloak Leader would be one of the 'less glamorous' things to be left out.

Delphine, however, chuckled when Esbern listed Cura as a Breton. "Really, Esbern? A Breton? You work with one day-in, day-out and you seriously think that's what she is? I think you need to look again."

Cura crossed her arms. "Well, I may as well be."

"Yes, I know. You were surrounded with them." Delphine informed her. "But that doesn't make you one of us. You will never be one of us."

Cura scoffed. "Well, there are some who would disagree." she was, in fact, calling back to Ancano and his hatred against the mongrel races. In his eyes, a Half-Altmer, Half-Human and a Breton were the same thing.

There was so much unnecessary hatred in the world. Especially between Mer and Man. If only they'd learn to coexist. Some could, evidently.

"I mean, 'Breton' derives from the Ehlnofey word 'Beratu', which means 'half', so I think Cura is justified to call herself a Breton regardless." Lucien came to his friend's identity's defense.

"Who let the know-it-all in here?" Delphine remarked ignorantly.

"Well, regardless of what you think, I think the extra Elven traits make Cura look far lovelier than you ever will." Lucien smugly asserted in Delphine's direction. The content of the words caused Cura's face to redden, and she shyly looked away.

"That settles it! Delphine is the jealous stepmother." Inigo nudged Lucien's ribs as he declared it. He touched Cura swiftly on the shoulder. "My friend, stay away from any apple she gives you. It will surely be poisoned!"

"Un addition to the Dragonborn, I've been chronicling the recent history of the Blades. What would you like your entry to say?" Esben turned to Delphine while he was partway done with Cura's description.

Delphine felt it ridiculous. ""I survived"?"

Esbern was not pleased with that simple answer. After all, she deserved to be commemorated for more than just that. "Come now. You did more than just survive all those years. Your evasion of the Thalmor would be useful for future Blades to study."

"What? Your heroic tale of locking yourself in the Ratway for years isn't enough?" Delphine laughed snidely, causing the old Blade to snort.

"Future Blades?" Lucien called attention to his choice of words.

"Ah, yes. In addition to all that we've been saying, we're also planning to bring our organization back." Delphine confessed. "And naturally, I will be the acting Grandmaster."

"Gods help them." Inigo shuddered, causing Lucien to snap forward with a belly laugh.

"Nobody asked for your input, cat. Get out! I've had enough of your nonsense!" Delphine pointed at the door commandingly.

Cura shook her head. "No, Inigo; you can stay. Don't listen to her."

"No problem." Inigo smirked as he pulled a U-turn and reentered the room, and stood at Cura's side.

"I said he's not allowed here." Delphine expressed irritation at Cura's outright defiance.

"And I said he is." Cura stood firm.

"Cura-" before Delphine could continue, Cura put her foot down.

"Dragonborn." Cura reaffirmed her position on the ladder.

Delphine and Esbern both exchanged surprised glances. Cura had become far more assertive than she was when they'd last met. The older Breton stared into the Dragonbon's eyes, searching them for a sign of hesitance or weakness, but found nothing but steadfastness and might staring her back. With a small amount of weighing, Delphine gave in. "Fine. You can stay here, Khajiit - just enough with the never-ending barrage of insults."

Cura nodded to Inigo, and the Khajiit exhaled. "Okay, fine."

"We are on the same side." Cura confirmed. "We should build each other up - not tear each other down."

Delphine looked contented with her words, granting Cura a couple of nods of approval. "Yes. Yes. This. This is what I wanted all along! Excellent!" She gave off a couple of elated chuckles. "Good; now we can see on the same wavelength. Perfect."

Cura placed a hand on Esbern's paper, stopping him from writing for the moment, to hear her words instead. "I think bringing the Blades back would be a great idea - but we can't use that name."

"Why not?" Delphine asked immediately. "We are the Blades - we've always been. Changing it now - "

"Would draw less attention from the Thalmor." Cura explained herself. "If word gets out of the 'Dragonborn and the Blades', you can all but guarantee the Thalmor is going to be livid. We need a new name - something that they can't tie directly to you."

"Honestly." Lucien scoffed. "Cura makes a reasonable point - you need a name that's less conspicuous."

"You do make a valid point. It would be foolish to maintain our old ways when times have changed." Esbern agreed. "Because you are the Dragonborn, you should be the one to change the name."

"Please don't choose something stupid." Delphine placed her hand on her forehead. Change their organization's name? How could they do such a thing? How disrespectful to all who died in service to the Empire!

Cura gave it a few moments, before it clicked with her. "The Skyguard."

Delphine furrowed her brows. "The 'Skyguard'? What kind of foolish-"

"What... will we be guarding, exactly?" Esbern wondered.

"Skyrim. Cyrodiil. Tamriel." Cura explained. "The Dragonborn, the Empire, the Continent. From Dragons, and from any and all threats."

Esbern considered it, and wrote the name down on paper. "The Skyguard. It does sound interesting."

"Less generic than the 'Blades'." Lucien scoffed.

"I mean no disrespect towards the organization." Cura disclaimed. "This is for their continued survival."

"Speaking of which, why are there still only two members?" Lucien asked Delphine directly. "You're all dressed up, but you have no-one to boss around legitimately."

Delphine was coarse, and she lifted herself off the wall, unfolding her arms as she walked over to Lucien near the doorway. "The Thalmor hunted us down, remember? It wasn't exactly great for recruitment. But we have a headquarters of a sort now. We'll rebuild the Blades. Someday."

"The Skyguard." Inigo corrected her.

"Yes... the Skyguard." the word rolled off Delphine's tongue like a bitter grape. She was clearly upset by the namechange, and made it very clear with each mention.

"I'm sorry, Delphine." Cura apologized to her. "I know that you're used to the Blades, but..."

"It's not just the name for its own sake." Delphine corrected her. "The Blades were an old organization... so many people died for its sake. If... if it's legacy were to be changed - it would spit on us all. I don't like it. I lost good friends in that raid! They were Blades! Blades!" She restated the word firmly as she brought her fist down onto her open palm. "I won't have that taken away. It's too much."

The sardonic Breton grew frantic.

Cura realized what she'd meant; it felt like erasure to her - no different than what the Thalmor intended.

Delphine's eyes were wide and bloodshot, and cold sweat beaded on her face under the torchlight. "I... no. I can't be the Grandmaster of something new."

Cura took Delphine's hands into her own, offering some comfort to the wounded soldier. "We're not changing the organization, Delphine. You will always be a Blade. This is just a new sort of undercover. It's the Dragonborn's way of looking after her Dragonguard. That was the Blades' old name, wasn't it? Consider this just another evolution - but everything will be the same as it was. I would never spit upon the legacy of those who came before. Never."

Delphine and Cura locked eyes in that instant, and Delphine could see the earnest eyes of the young Dragonborn, but behind them burned the fires of Akatosh. Indeed, she had a duty to aid Cura - and if this were a way to enable it, she would have to trust her judgment.

Delphine exhaled lightly and moved back her hands to wipe the sweat off her brow. "Fine, then. The Skyguard. It'll take me a while to get used to it. But I do see your point; if the Thalmor hear someone going around and recruiting for the Blades, there'll be a problem. And they have eyes everywhere. There's no way they won't learn about it."

"Yes, escaped Blades are something of a hot topic." Lucien explained.

"Then I have a task for you." Delphine began. "Traditionally, the Dragonborn chose people for the organization. If you find anyone you think would make a good recruit, I can certainly take a look at them. Remember, though, being a... Skyguard... is a lifelong commitment. Their loyalty has to be with us once they're in."

"Wow, Cura - you're very popular for elections these days." Inigo laughed in remembrance of the College delegations.

"Well, I'd recommend the two of you for the Skyguard, for one thing." Cura pointed at Lucien and Inigo. "But, I don't know if you'd be up for the obligations that go along with it. I'm sure you want to have a life of your own, too."

Inigo shrugged. "I do not mind being bound to you until death, my friend - it is just the idea of having to answer to Delphine that deeply disturbs me."

Delphine spat lightly out of the corner of her mouth in irritation. "Lucky for you then, that she's given you the choice."

Inigo did not take the remark well and turned around in a huff.

"Well, I'll keep my options open. First things first; I need to see the Greybeards." Cura proclaimed.

Inigo immediately clenched his head in his hands as his mind was overtaken by psychic shocks. "Aaaaggggh! My head! My brain is vibrating! My head feels like it is at the end of a hook! Aaaaggggh!"

The sudden pain was so great that the Khajiit habitually dug his claws into his own flesh.

"Inigo!" Cura and Lucien cried out in unison as they came to his aid.

Cura held an arm around him, keeping him in place. "We've got to get you to the Temple of Kynareth."

"Ugh. It's over... thank the Gods." Inigo caught his breath as he leaned back against the wall and slumped with his forehead in his hands.

"Hey..." Lucien placed his hands on Inigo's right arm. "Inigo, are you all right there, buddy?"

Inigo nodded as he continued to massage his forehead. "Yes, yes, I will be... just give me a minute."

"Your cat is rabid, I think." Delphine remarked snidely as she gestured towards the agonized Inigo.

"Not as rabid as this dog." Inigo spat back as he readjusted himself.

Cura had enough. "Inigo, you really need to get that checked out. We're going to Danica." She lifted him back up by his right arm and allowed him to lean on her for support. Though the pain was gone, he was still dizzy and lopsided in his motions.

Inigo groaned and quickly began to protest. "No, my friend! We have to go see the Greybeards! Forget about my stupid headache!"

"Are you really sure, Inigo?" Cura asked. "This isn't something you should play around with. It could be serious."

"The world is at stake! Do not stop for a little Khajiit like me!"

"If I don't help my own friend, what sort of hero would I be?" Cura insisted, her eyes plagued with worry. Truly, if the Dragonborn couldn't help a loved one who was suffering, what good would she be to the world? "Come on."

Lucien agreed with Cura and trailed behind them. "This Danica knows what she's doing, right?"

"Of course she does. She is beloved in Whiterun for her healing." Cura knew that she was a healer - a Priestess of Kynareth. It was either her or the Keeper, or Colette, to Cura's knowledge, and the Keeper was imprisoned and they just left Winterhold, so she would have to do. She had a good reputation, and many brought their sick and injured to Danica on a regular basis.

Inigo finally relented as a throbbing aftermath set in. "Fine, then. Let us just go there and be done with it."

Cura turned to Delphine and shrugged. "We still have a ways to go, but look at our conversation as a new beginning. We have a lot of work to do."

Delphine nodded as she walked over to the armoury. "Cura - Dragonborn. When you find the people to join our cause, lead them to me. I'll get them fitted - and I'll be crafting more armour and weapons with Esbern."

"Sounds good. Take care, Delphine." Cura stated as she and her two friends walked out the balcony door above and headed into the training courtyard. From there, they Fast Travelled to the lovely city of Whiterun.

As they landed, Inigo nearly collapsed, having forgotten the residual throttle one experiences from Fast Travel and how it might impact a sick person.

"Hang in there, buddy." Lucien reassured him as he helped keep him on his feet.

Cura gently leaned closer onto Inigo to allow him to grip around her better. It was difficult for Inigo to use Cura for walking support, as he was quite taller than she was; by a foot at least.

Cura looked at the beautiful arborous city around her. Much had changed since she was last here: there were more flowers blooming in what were once dirt patches, and the trees had turned a gorgeous peach colour. The well at the marketplace had a roof covering above it, and small trees appear to have been planted in various spaces, with bushes crowning them.

The city looked warm, and welcoming.

Familiar faces recognized Cura and waved to her: Carlotta Valentia greeted her from her stall, Amren smiled to her as she passed him with her friends, Adrianne waved cordially as she passed the marketplace to return to her smithy, and Fralia ran around her stall next to the Bannered Mare to give the half-Elf a hug.

"Dear, it's so good to see you!" Fralia expressed. "Is everything okay?"

Cura reciprocated. "Things could be better, but they could be worse. I'm taking my friend to see Danica. He... isn't doing very well."

Fralia looked a tad hesitant to mention it, but she did. "Oh... Danica was here earlier. She may be back now, but her powers have not been working well. She saw Arcadia earlier about it."

"Why? What's the matter?" Cura felt concerned.

"I think it has something to do with the ol' Gildergreen up in the Wind District." Fralia shrugged. "She's become depressed since nothing she's done has been able to cure it."

Cura leaned over to her left and looked up at the old tree above the stairs. It was scraggly and wilting in the past, but now it looked... dead. Completely, utterly dead. Kynareth's sacred tree in Whiterun looked like it belonged to the Soul Cairn, and that was indeed a problem.

"Wow..." Lucien muttered as he stared at the gnarled branches from his vantage point. "That's the Gildergreen? I thought it'd look... I don't know... bright? Shiny? Living?"

Cura turned back to Fralia, and looked towards Inigo, who hung on her shoulder. "I'll help Danica, but is there anything I can do for my friend right now? Is there anything Arcadia can give him for spiking headaches?"

"Mind vibrations is more like it..." Inigo groaned as he pulled himself off of Cura and quickly began to walk towards Arcadia's Cauldron.

Cura gave a courteous half-bow to Fralia. "I'm going to see Danica. I have more faith in a divine healer than an alchemist."

"Couldn't you cure Inigo, then?" Lucien asked. "I mean, you ae Cure-a... after all."

The Dragonborn rolled her eyes. "Those of us who follow Stendarr heal physical injuries. Same as what Colette taught us. We tend to the physical. A Priest or Priestess of Kynareth goes far deeper than that, I've heard."

Lucien shrugged as he climbed the water-lined steps with Cura. "Something tells me that what Inigo's going through is more than just 'that'."

They entered the Temple of Kynareth after passing the dead tree, and within they saw wounded Whiterun Guards and sickly farmers laying on sickbeds at the center of the beautiful temple. Other wounded lay against the walls while Acolytes tried to heal their injuries.

The interior was breathtaking; the marble floor tiles glistened under the window light from above, and shallow pools of water rested in the nooks in the floor's design. A shrine to Kynareth was adjacent to them, and the walls were lovely and gilded with designs of birds.

Voices of the sick and agonized resounded through the air amidst the wind chimes, and Cura could see stains of blood on the floor.

Danica herself stood over a wounded Soldier and cast a Healing Spell. Unfortunately, the spell fizzled out after a few seconds. "Blast it. I cannot do it anymore!" Danica exclaimed in anguish as fatigue set in.

Her Acolytes helped her sit down on a bench steadily to try and build back her strength.

Cura cast Healing Spells on a few of the wounded nearby, closing their wounds, and then approached the exhausted priestess. "Hello, Danica. Are you all right?"

"I will be. Just give me a minute." Danica wiped sweat off her brow.

This really wasn't looking good. Cura volunteered to lend a hand, and used her healing prowess on the wounded Guards, helping them get back on their feet.

As she did this, Lucien spoke to Danica. "I take it this is all a downstream effect from the war and the Dragon attacks?"

"Somewhat, yes. At first it seemed a distant thing, heard only in the idle speech of guards and traders. When the wounded soldiers began to return from battle, I did what I could to help them." Danica admitted as she leaned forward in her seat, as it was more comfortable. "As more of the sick and injured came to the temple, my work as a healer became more important than my duties as a priestess. I wish only an end to the fighting, so that I can tend to the temple once more."

Then it donned on Lucien. Perhaps Kynareth was angry with her for not tending to the Gildergreen or to the Temple.

"Lately it seems I am more nurse than priestess, tending to those who have suffered, both in mind and body, from this terrible war. These are trying times for us all, I know. Many come to the Temple of Kynareth to pray, and I assist them as best I'm able." Danica elaborated. "But... I cannot do both any longer. And Kynareth has turned her face from me, and I can only heal with my own magic. And the people of Whiterun suffer for it." The Nord Priestess looked away with great sadness and weariness. "It's a shame, isn't it?"

Lucien agreed. "Yes; I'd heard about the Gildergreen, and... it was not at all what I'd envisioned."

"It's a bit of an eyesore at the moment. More of a problem for the pilgrims than for me, but not many of them around anymore." Danica shrugged her shoulders. Indeed, the Gildergreen was once a great attraction for the Pilgrims of Kynareth historically. They would come from far and wide, and all through the empire to worship the Goddess before it. It was perhaps the oldest living Shrine to the Goddess of the Winds in Skyrim. Danica sighed as she continued. "A big dead tree isn't very inspiring if you're coming to worship the Divine of wind and rains. Kynareth gives life, and we need a living tree to be her symbol."

Cura overheard the conversation nearby, and felt a tinge of warmth in her chest. Perhaps this was the Divine calling her to action. She had been doing the Way of the Voice, and she was soon off to see the Greybeards; it would certainly be a good thing for her to do a kindness to Kynareth - the goddess who granted mortals the Thu'um. The Thu'um she herself has taken for granted all this time. She should take this opportunity to express her gratitude to Kynareth.

As soon as she finished healing the last wounded Soldier, Cura approached Danica and Lucien. "I heard what you said, and I'd like to help, in any way I can."

"The Dragonborn? Truly?" Danica's eyes lifted in surprise, and the other Acolytes too were stunned to realize that they were just aided in Healing by the Dragonborn herself. "It would be an honour."

"No, the honour would be mine." Cura corrected her. "Kynareth does so much for all of us; it would be the least I could do."

"And once Danica recovers we could bring Inigo to her." Lucien mused. "Hopefully she can figure out his issue."

"'Inigo'?" Danica repeated his name as a question.

"One of my best friends." Cura explained. "He's a funny blue Khajiit. He's been suffering from sudden, powerful headaches. He described it as 'mind vibrations.' It's not natural."

Danica held an index finger to her lips as she considered the description. "I would not be hasty in my assumption, but 'mind vibrations' going with terrible headaches sounds very Thaumaturgical. Like the dizzying sensation someone receives when they Fast Travel or Teleport through the Aether, but gone wrong."

"Is there anything to be done?" Cura asked. "I'm worried sick for him."

"Currently, no. I have barely enough power to Heal cuts and scrapes, let alone block a psychic attack." Danica lamented as she looked at her weary, blood-stained hands.

"A psychic attack?" Cura furrowed her brows. "Somebody is trying to attack Inigo's mind?"

"Poor chap..." Lucien shuddered.

Danica nodded somberly. "If he is having mind vibrations, that means that somebody is trying to summon him, or capture him through the Aether, but to no avail. Keep a close eye on your friend."

Cura's eyes betrayed her emotions. She was visibly shaken by the news. She never would have known this. Thank goodness Danica knew about this sort of thing.

"So, the Gildergreen?" Lucien prompted her to explain what could be done about the pressing matter of Kynareth's dying tree.

"To the east of here is a hidden grove where the Eldergleam resides. It's the oldest living thing in Skyrim. Maybe all of Tamriel. Our tree here in the city was grown from a cutting of that tree. You can still feel the glory of the mother tree through it." Danica was awash in nostalgia as she described it.

"You seem to think very highly of the Gildergreen." Cura noted.

"Aye. It inspired me to become a priestess of Kynareth in the first place." Danica recalled a time long passed. "I... guess I slowly became jaded towards it after years of always seeing it there in the plaza." She hung her head sadly. "I suppose one could call it a testament to war; not only does it cause faith to decay, but also the love of beauty."

Cura understood that sentiment quite well. It was hard to hold onto good things and faith in a time where you're surrounded with death and despair. But if one could salvage their faith in the midst of it all, that was its own reward. "I take it the sap from the Eldergleam may be able to help the Gildergreen."

Lucien had to ask. "The Eldergleam... how old is it, exactly? I know the Gildergleam is quite old, but if it sprang from the Eldergleam, that must be ancient."

"It's an old tree. Very old. They say it was a seedling when the first men were arriving from Atmora, thousands of years ago." Danica explained as Lucien began to take notes in his travel journal with that all-to-familiar glimmer of adventure in his eye.

Danica confirmed Cura's intuition. "The sap is precious. It can restore barren fields or bring life to rocks. I can use it to repair the Gildergreen, so we can worship properly again. I've thought about that... Trees like this never really die. They only slumber. I think it is as you suggested; if we had some of the sap from the parent tree, we could wake up its child. But even if you could get to the Eldergleam, you couldn't tap it. Not with any normal metal."

Lucien nodded. "Because of its age, right? The bark has got to be too thick for a skimmer."

"Eldergleam is older than metal, from a time before men or elves. To even affect it, you have to tap into the old magic." Danica shuddered as she thought about what that entails. "You'll have to deal with the Hagravens. I've heard about a weapon they've made for sacrificing Spriggans. It's called "Nettlebane." The hags terrify me, or I would have gone after it myself."

"Hagravens." the word soured in Cura's mouth. She'd dealt with them before, and the Keeper told her quite the story concerning one. "All right. Where are they?"

"Your spirit is strong. Kynareth's winds will guide your path. It's held in a Hagraven nest called Orphan Rock." Danica informed her briskly.

"Orphan Rock is in Falkreath." Lucien informed Cura. "It's a small craggy area surrounded by the woodlands and cliffs."

"Then let's get Inigo and be off." Cura quickly began walking, when Danica called out to her.

"No- actually, bring your friend Inigo here. He will be safer in the Temple." Danica explained. "Kynareth is upset with me, but her power enshrines this building, still. Nobody could teleport in or out of here. Even though I cannot help him, I can ensure his safety in this sanctuary."

"May I do a small test, to be sure?" Cura asked. "Keeper Carcette was sure the Hall of the Vigilant was protected, and then the Vampires struck. This is something that can be tested."

"Be my guest." Danica gestured for her to proceed, sure of her Goddess' power, though a hint of uncertainty plagued her subconscious. What if Kynareth was about to make a fool of her?

Cura closed her eyes and envisioned Riften's City Gate. She felt a spark jolt her body and nothing came of it. She closed her eyes again. This time, she envisioned a closer location: Riverwood. A spark was felt, but nothing happened. And one final time, she imagined Dragonsreach, just up the hill from where they were. A spark, and then nothing.

Cura turned to Lucien. "All right. This is good. We'll have Inigo stay here for the meantime."

Danica looked up at the ceiling and smiled. Perhaps Kynareth was still with her, after all.

"All right. So, we're going to send Inigo to you, and we're going to retrieve Nettlebane." Cura informed Danica. "Please, take care of him."

Danica nodded with certainty. "I will make sure your friend is okay. Just focus on your own life right now." Before Cura left, she looked at the Guards and formerly wounded, who were now sitting upright again, and she called out to her. "And, Dragonborn, thanks for your help."

"Of course." Cura smiled as she walked out with Lucien.

No sooner did they pass the Gildergreen than they saw Inigo running up the stairs to greet them. "There you are, my friends! ...Why the serious look?" He appeared to be doing much better now, and was back to his perky self.

"We're going to Orphan Rock to retrieve Nettlebane so we could sheer the sap out of the Eldergleam in its sanctuary to heal the dying tree!" Lucien explained as best he could.

Inigo stared at them both. "Okay... and will this stop the Dragons?"

"It will help Danica be able to heal the wounded again." Cura explained. "And she thinks she may know what's going on with you. She wants you to go to the Temple, and stay there until we return."

Inigo furrowed his brows. "This is all so bizarre... I feel as though I have wandered into the Sunrise Zone or something."

"Please, Inigo; she's expecting you. She'll explain everything, but it's very important that you stay inside." Cura pleaded with her friend.

"Well, okay, friend, but because you say so." Inigo relented and tapped her on the arm. "Good luck out there. Make sure Lucien does not trip over his two left feet."

Lucien took offense. "Hey!"

Inigo gave them a two-finger salute as he hurried inside the temple.

Cura and Lucien looked at one another. The party was down to two now. And Lucien was unsure if he would make for a good partner, but he would do his best for Cura. "All right. Orphan Rock it is, then."

As the two walked down the steps towards the marketplace, Lucien accidentally bumped into a woman with mousey blonde hair tied in pigtails that hung over her shoulders and wore a pine green dress. "Agh!" the woman exclaimed in surprise as she almost lost her footing.

Cura acted quickly and grabbed her arm before the maiden could tumble down the stairs. She gently pulled her back up.

"Sorry about that." Lucien apologized. "Are you all right?"

"No thanks to you, you dummy!" the woman snapped at him. "I nearly broke my head on those stairs."

Cura felt a tad sheepish. "As long as everybody is okay. That's all that matters."

"Thank you for catching me." the woman expressed her gratitude plagued with gripes. "I swear I am having the worst day here in Skyrim. The worst!"

"Our day hasn't been the greatest either." Lucien remarked.

"I'm sorry to hear that." Cura responded to the maiden.

"Have you by any chance seen a huge, drunk Nord and a filthy little Wood Elf Bastard?" the maiden abruptly asked the pair of them, frustration littering her voice.

Cura and Lucien seemed to both be at a lack of response. Cura spoke up. "Together? No, definitely not."

"Blasted! Where are those rotten thieves?" the woman kicked the step in front of her out of frustration. It was clear that with many of the City Guard wounded, criminals were able to run amok. "Look... these guys have stolen something that is very precious to me, and I need to find them before they drink..." she abruptly paused, raising a tad of suspicion her way. "Well, before they do anything they will regret."

"That sounds bad. Can I help you in any way?" Cura was beginning to wonder just what was going on here.

"Yes... yes, you could." the woman mused for a few seconds. "The people at the Bannered Mare just told me that they have seen the bastards heading out of Whiterun with my bott... my precious item." she meandered around the subject once more.

At this rate, Cura was uncertain if she was nervous because of her Vigilant uniform or if it was something worth a lot of money. Either way, this was all very suspicious.

"I need to catch them, but I have been warned that one of them, the Nord, is very huge and potentially dangerous," the woman shuddered.

Cura was unimpressed by the damsel in distress act. She looked down at the woman's hands and could visibly see the calluses retained from swordplay.

This was another detour. A detour in a detour.

"I will approach them on my own if necessary, but... it would be so much safer if there were three of us." the woman motioned with her hands circularly, including herself into their group.

Still, this was a tad suspicious. Perhaps it would be best if Cura took this small detour. The Gods have ways of calling attention to chaos, as she knew, and they weren't always as big and obvious as Alduin. "All right, Don't go by yourself - we'll help you with this."

Visible relief washed over the maiden's face and she clasped her hands together joyously. "You'll do that? Thank you so much! Let's go and find those bastards!"

It appeared recent enough, so perhaps the pair hadn't gone too far out of the city. Cura and Lucien were headed out that way, themselves.

It did not take long for Cura to notice two suspicious figures off in the distance putzing along the road. One was very tall and wide, and the other short and slim. She would take her bets.

There were two suspicious figures huddled next to the Honningbrew Meadery, and one was indeed a very large Nord who stood almost seven feet tall with arms thick like the Gildergreen itself, it would seem. His accomplice was a swarthy little Woof Elf who seemed to have the shakes.

The maiden pointed at the pair from a safe distance. "Look! Over there! It must be the thieves!"

"Uh... Candle?" Lucien swallowed hard when he noticed exactly how large the Nord was. The man looked as though he could snap them both in two. What on Nirn were they getting themselves into?

Cura placed a hand on the hilt of her mace, readying it in case they should be attacked. The Nord may be packed with muscle, but a skull is always a weak point.

"Did you hear that? The bottle... talked to me! It cursed me!" the large Nord shuddered as he examined the odd, white globular flask in his hands.

"I told you not to open that bottle, didn't I?" the wood elf retorted with trepidation.

As soon as Cura approached, the Nord pleaded with her with shaking legs. "Take the bottle! Just take it! That damned thing is cursed! It... actually talked to me! Cursed me!"

Cura held out a hand. "I'm a Vigilant of Stendarr. Hand it over."

"Yes, yes! Look. I know it's wrong to steal, but me and my buddy were so thirsty! And the little lady there had left her luggage almost unattended." the big Nord pointed towards the wronged maiden who trailed behind Cura and Lucien. He gingerly motioned the strange flask in Cura's direction with shaking hands. "We meant no harm... but when we opened the bottle it started to... talk! It cursed us! I've never heard anything so evil before in my entire life!"

"You should talk to Phinis sometime." Lucien chuckled.

Cura held up the bottle and examined it. It seemed normal-looking enough, but looks could be deceiving. She would certainly like to know why this mysterious woman had such a thing in her luggage to begin with.

"What if I'm cursed for the rest of my life?" the Nord whimpered. "Please, take the bottle, and please ask the little lady to have her bottle removing that curse from us!"

"All right; just hand me the bottle and I'll talk to her." Cura extended a hand, which he quickly shoved the bottle into. Cura held up the bottle and examined it. It seemed normal-looking enough, but looks could be deceiving. She would certainly like to know why this mysterious woman had such a thing in her luggage to begin with.

"You will? Oh what a relief! Thank you, thank you! I swear, I won't ever steal again." the Nord expressed his vows and waved his massive arms to both sides in fervent rejection of the notion. "Goodbye, and thank you so much!" he gathered together with his friend and the pair decided to walk up the road towards Riverwood.

"Well, that went better than I expected." Lucien exhaled. His heart was racing from the encounter. "Way to diffuse the situation, Candle."

Cura nodded and pointed at the woman. "And now, she owes us an explanation."

"Yes, I suppose I do. May I have the bottle, please?" the woman asked Cura with an extended arm.

Cura held onto it first. "No. Explanation first. You speak to a Vigilant of Stendarr."

The woman sighed. "First, there is something I need to ask... tell me, have we met before? You seem weirdly familiar."

Cura had never seen this woman before in her life. She was a new face around these parts. She shook her head. "No, I don't believe we have."

"Oh, I'm sorry - you just reminded me of someone I knew long ago." the woman massaged the back of her neck awkwardly.

Cura held her firm stance, and clasped the bottle tightly in her hands. "Now, that explanation, or I'm bringing you to the Hall of the Vigilant." She was bluffing.

"You're not fooling anyone." the woman scoffed. "The Hall of the Vigilant is a smoking pile of ash right now. Everyone knows it."

Cura's face turned dark in response to the mockery, and the woman picked up on this. She realized that perhaps it wouldn't be the best idea to antagonize the one who helped her just now.

Lucien stood beside the Dragonborn and waved his hands across one another to gesture to the newcomer that it would be best to stop before she goes too far.

"I cannot believe that the content is evil in any way, though. Neither my grandmother nor her ancestors have been into dark magic. However... something magic is trapped within the bottle, and it requires a certain kind of knowledge to release what is trapped in there." the woman paused a moment to consider her options. "My great-great grandmother once told my grandmother that the only place where the content could be released would be here, in Skyrim."

Cura and Lucien were both largely skeptical about this. However, Cura did not feel any evil energy emanate from the bottle; only energy itself.

The woman continued. "Or, to be more specific, the Eldergleam Sanctuary."

Cura and Lucien's jaws both hung open.

"Are you serious?" Lucien asked.

She continued; "Therefore, I decided to bring the bottle to Skyrim and to visit the sanctuary. However... I have now been here for quite some time but although I have been travelling all over the countryside, I have never been able to find the sanctuary. You don't happen to know where it's located, do you?"

"Actually, we're kind of on a mission that will take us there, ourselves." Lucien informed her.

"Really? What a coincidence! Then... then maybe you could take me with you? Oh, pretty please! I would be so grateful!" the maiden pleaded with Cura.

Cura gave it some thought, and ultimately decided that perhaps it would be all right. After all, this damsel was fooling no one - she was clearly a fighter. More swords made for lighter battling. "All right. I suppose you can join us on our small quest."

"Oh, thank you. You are so kind to allow me to travel with you!" the woman spoke in an endearing way, similar in manner to how one would address another who saved them great trouble.

"I don't believe we've been properly introduced: I am Lucien Flavius - Imperial Scholar, Mage of Cyrodiil, Mage of the College of Winterhold, member of the Dawnguard, and friend to the Dragonborn." the Imperial lad touted himself proudly.

The woman smiled back at him. "It is so nice to meet you, Lucien. You seem to wear a lot of hats. And you are,?" she turned her gaze to Cura.

The Breton cleared her throat. Where to begin? Perhaps with her name. "I am Vigilant Cura of the Pale. Vigilant of Stendarr, Thane of Whiterun, Morthal, and Windhelm, Mage of Winterhold, Member of the Dawnguard, Member of the Companions, and-"

"-The Dragonborn!" the woman exclaimed in shock and awe. "I have heard your name! You are quite popular in these lands! Can you really absorb the soul of a Dragon?"

"Yes."

"Wow, I would really like to see that! I almost cannot believe it! ...Except I have been hearing a lot about it! And I know the song, too! We also sing it back home on Solstheim! 'Beware, beware, the Dragonborn comes! With a voice wielding power of the Ancient Nord art, you'll know, you'll know, the Dragonborn comes!'" the woman sang melodically in her distinct Solstheim Nord accent.

"And who are you?" Cura asked. "You have a nice singing voice, by the way."

"Thanks, you're so kind!" the maiden lit up. "My name's Vilja. As I said, I come from the isle of Solstheim. It is not far away from Skyrim."

"I heard that there are quite some interesting Dwemer Ruins there!" Lucien exclaimed. "I look forward to the day we travel there."

Cura nodded. "We will, after all is said and done with Alduin."

"I'll hold you to it, Candle." Lucien pointed at her.

"It's nice to meet you, Vilja." Cura extended her hand for a shake, and the Nord woman accepted it. And with her other hand she gave the Bottle to Vilja.

"Thank you." Vilja pocketed the bottle and stood between the other two as they began to walk. "So, a Vigilant and a Scholar, and a Bard. We'll make an interesting team, I feel!"

"I can't wait for her to meet Inigo." Lucien muttered to Cura, who chuckled.

"Inigo?" Vilja raised a brow.

"A friend. We're going to get a blade called 'Nettlesbane' from Orphan Rock, and then we're going to Danica to check on him." Cura explained. "Then we're going to the Eldergleam Sanctuary."

Vilja pursed her lips. "Well, as long as I find it, I'm not going to complain. It won't take as long as it did for me, I'm sure."

Cura was certain of it. "How long have you been in Skyrim so far?"

"Three, almost four months." Vilja explained. "Almost got eaten by a Dragon, too! Now that I know that you are the Dragonborn, I feel so much safer with you around!"

Cura was unimpressed with the flattery, but accepted it nonetheless. "I can't promise there won't be any more Dragons along the way. You may end up in battle with one of you travel with me. Still want to?"

Lucien looked at Vilja to see her response himself, and was greeted with a nod.

"Yes." Vilja proclaimed. "I am sure you've killed hundreds of them! We are in good hands."

Wow, talk about an overestimation. Now that was flattering. "Not that many, but yes, I have slain several."

"Then there shouldn't be a problem. Just let me change into my armour and we will be off!" Vilja ran behind a large rock to change into a set of Fur Armour. "Okay, I'm back! Let's go!"

Cura led the way down the beaten path.

This was certainly an interesting string of developments, but Cura looked at it as an opportunity to do some good on the Gods' behalf.