Dragon Age Origins: Dovahkiin

by Arch-Daishou00

(M) 'Mature story' "Sea-bound to foreign shores, the Dunmeri Dragonborn Miara and her kin embark on a new land on orders from the emperor. The family's mission; To investigate and explore these foreign nations. But no objective is ever straightforward for a Doom Driven hero" Co-Author: Etheral-23. UNIGORE did the original artwork. "Thank you so much!"

4. The Line of Cousland: Act II

Disclaimer: We do not own Dragon Age Origins or the Elder Scrolls Series

Co-Author and Beta: Etheral-23

Spellchecked 7/4/2023

The Line of Cousland: Act II

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Hooves and paws dug fiercely into the soil as the Cousland brothers, Loke, Ser Gilmore, and Ector, a handful of knights, and Miara rode their respected horses from Highever for their destination of the Storm Coast. "Just asking," Miara rode beside Fergus, kept her eyes forward; "Why is this place called the 'Storm Coast'?"

"Because of the near-constant rain," Ser Ector clarified, "The area is lush with a dense forest, connected to a mountainside with high cliffs to the shores, all manners of wildlife, and even Dwarven ruins."

"Watch out for bears or feral Mabari, along with bandits who like hiding out at the coast," Fergus also brought up.

"I'd rather they were the only thing to worry about," Marcus muttered. Somberly reminding the hunting party why they were here, not that they needed any help reminding them of that.

A dragon. Maker above them never dreamt they'd face such a beast; few thought they'd escape this situation alive...

The youngest Cousland saw their soldiers' worried and forlorn faces and roused their spirits, "Don't hesitate now, you're children of Highever. You fight for our home. An overgrown lizard is nothing compared to the bite of our blades."

A knight shouted, 'Hear, hear!' as the other soldiers matched the smile the young lord was giving them. Miara could see the beginnings of a leader in Marcus, as expected of someone with a lineage like his who would one day take a more significant role in ruling his family's lands. The young man had a lot to live up to.

She wasn't about to let them face a dragon alone.

"Any sight of the beast?" Fergus asked as they began entering the territories of the coast; already rain began to fall on them.

"Not yet, my lord," A knight replied.

Miara's keen eyes darted to the cloudy skies; rain like this was nothing to a dragon; there wasn't a big enough storm to impede flight (not that a dragon couldn't fix that with their Voice). Deciding to find the dragon before the others, she turned to the side and whispered.

"Laas Yah Nir"

Every creature had an aura; living beings shone red for the most part, while people personally had their types of colors adorning theirs. It usually told her a lot about the nature of a person's soul and personality. Fergus and Marcus shined with a royal blue color; it shimmered strongly though flickered with apprehension at the task before them. The soldiers were much more like candles against the wind.

She saw at least a dozen animals, but a dragon would be easy to spot. Her eyes slowly trailed as she surveyed the coast's landscaped trees and rocky hills, trying to spot the beast.

There, at least a mile in the distance, she saw it. Massive, mighty, imposing, and... What in Oblivion?

The dragon's aura is different from the dragons in Tamriel.

Something was wrong here.

Fergus steered his horse carefully as they passed through a rocky road. "So, you said you have experience hunting dragons, right, Miara?" When he got no answer, he asked again, "Miara?"

"Uhhh, my lords," A knight spoke nervously. "She's gone..."

XxX ~ xx ~ XxX

Mara was praised. She found a hidden rocky road that diverted straight to where she had seen the dragon with her shout. Waves of water could be heard hitting the cliff-side as she moved from rock to forestry and unmounted Shadowmere.

They had reached a curve where the coast and forest met. Thankfully her aura whisper was still active as she looked back as saw the hunting party moving in the opposite direction. "Krosis kul... Safer, I go alone." Looking back, her eyes became steel; "And find this, Dovah."

Her steps were silent, sensed sharp trekking through the forest as she stuck to the shadow. Something was off about this dragon. It felt nothing like Odahviing, Durnehviir, or the other dragons living in Skyrim! Creeping passed a large boulder along with large foliage. She heard at least the familiar sound of a deep guttural growl further ahead.

Taking several more paces ahead, the hidden Elf's eyes rose in disbelief and awe. The entity before her was the size of two houses! Maroon scales danced in the rain and morning sun as it walked on four legs; large wings rested on its back as its long tail swayed about. Its neck was long and held the unmistakable head of a horned dragon. Its fierce yellow slit eyes gazed around the forest.

Her mouth opened and closed, struggling to form the words before finally speaking; "...What are you?"

That... thing was not a dragon.

Miara knew dragons. She was a dragon; she had felt the dragon souls being consumed into her own when she battled any Dovah who challenged her. She felt them just by being near them.

But this creature? Its soul was so... wrong.

A dragon soul shined like blazing fire with all the colors of the rainbow, an immense contrast to the mortal black souls, indicating their divine superiority above all other creatures in the face of Nirn. Their blood was the blood of Akatosh himself.

But this thing? It was barely a campfire compared to the mighty dov. It was a firestorm to mortal creatures, but its soul would never measure up to a true dovah.

This 'dragon,' this disgusting mockery of her kin... it was just an animal.

It must have picked up her scent as the 'dragon' turned its long neck toward her general direction. Its growl was pure bestial, feral, with no divine spark power. She paused in the shadows as Miara weighed her options. Fighting this beast would likely draw the others in her direction, making the battle much more dangerous.

Would a show of dominance work? With a long sigh, Miara stood as she slowly emerged from the shadows and into the view of the 'Dragon' who growled threateningly. The Dragonborn stood several paces away as the elf and beast stared at one another. Neither flinched nor showed weakness towards the other until the 'dragon' finally let out a resounding roar.

It did not greet her as a dovah should; its Voice was lacking. There was no intelligence, no sapience, just raw instinct. There was nothing, no soul to it at all... Not even the very ground beneath her feet did not shake. Reaffirming the dark elf that this is an animal, not a true Dovah...

It sickened Miara; she felt rage boil in the depth of her very soul. This sunvaar dares to roar before the Thur of all true Dovah as if she was lesser!? With a deep breath, she opened her mouth.

XxX ~ xx ~ XxX

Combing through another path of the forest and cliffs of the Coast, The brothers, and knights, with one mabari, surveyed and walked through the area cautiously. "Where could that bloody woman have gone?" Fergus muttered in irritation holding his sword and shield.

"There was another path near the one we went. She might have gone through there," Ser Ector spoke beside the knights.

Soon they all held their ears as a resounding ear-shattering draconian roar erupted throughout the coast! The area shook as if an earthquake had torn through, from the ground beneath them to the trees, cliffs, and rocks.

The horses went wild, with their equally frightened riders trying to keep them under control. Loke whimpered while birds flew terrified, along with every animal nearby, fleeing in droves. The roar was so mighty... What manner of creature could make the entire coast quake like that?

"Maker!" Fergus cried out as he reigned in his mount. "Is it a high dragon?! Is the beast we came for its mate?!"

The possibility made their situation all the more dangerous.

Marcus' head whipped widely in every direction. "Miara is still out somewhere; we must find her and ensure she's safe!"

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The beast recoiled before Ysmir. Good. That thing ought to learn its place when standing before the Thur. She was already too generous by tolerating its profane existence, but the longer she stared at it, at that pathetic thing that could not even Shout, she felt her patience thin.

Taking Dragonbane from its sheath, arcs of lightning danced across the blade as she marched forth, all too eager to end this mockery instantly. Gods, she was sure she wouldn't even enjoy taking its soul...

The creature whimpered in fright, but one look at something behind it, and suddenly its courage blossomed, spreading its wings and striking the ground with its tail threateningly.

So the fangs weren't just for show, then. At least the thing wasn't as pathetic as Miara thought. At least its death would be fearless, if only because whatever that thing wanted to... wanted to...

Miara's thoughts drifted, and all hostility slowly vanished from her mind as she stared at what was so precious the beast was willing to lay down its life for.

Eggs... By the Void, those were eggs...

Another proof that it wasn't a true dovah. The children of the time god did not lay eggs; they came into existence due to their father's hand, as though they had always existed, without beginning or end. To lay eggs was a misconception of legends, something mortal creatures did.

It should not have changed anything, but... Gods help her; that was the line she couldn't cross. The one she'd never cross.

To kill an infant, born or not, in cold blood. She was many things, many of which weren't good in the least... but child-killer would never be a title applicable to her.

Animal or not. Mockery or not. Miara still had that boundary.

She sheathed her blade as she raised her hands non-threateningly; "Drem! Krosis monah." Would using the Dovahzul help, hell she knew, but it couldn't hurt to try. "Krosis... Zu'u drey ni mindok! Drem..." Her voice was now calm, warm.

The mother dragon growled, tilting her head at the elf. Miara spoke soothingly using the dragon's tongue, hoping there was any semblance of communication.

There was something the Dragonborn could see; Understanding? Maybe in a minimal sense, but it was something. The posture of the mother dragon slowly relaxed but remained cautious and ready.

The creature wasn't just a mindless animal like she first thought. Oh, there was mostly instinct there, but... there was also life and concern for its offspring. Miara understood that very well.

She turned to face the eggs again; they had to be the size of an adult male. A dragon (Oh by Father above, she had no other way to call them) offspring had to be immense even in its early stages. She shared a look with the mother, assuring her she meant no harm as she raised her palm and approached.

She gave her permission with a soft hissing noise, and her head bowed.

Miara knelt before one of the eggs, placing a palm upon it. It was warm, so very warm... It was alive; there was true life growing inside it.

Even if it wasn't a true dovah, Miara found it beautiful.

Admiration soon shifted as the elf looked back out to the Coast. Her new acquaintances would not be so merciful towards this mother Dragon and children. Her mind raced as scenarios went back and forth, no outcomes being pleasant save one. She just hoped this mother dragon would understand what she was trying to tell her.

Miara turned her heels sharply to gaze up, seeing the dragon had stared at her the entire time; "Monah, mindoraan..." She was unsure how long it took, but bless the Nine, she saw the recognition from the mother dragon that her eggs were in danger.

With a long and deep explosive breath that came from the Dunmer as she gazed at the area around them. Then an idea emerged as she knelt and placed her hands on the wet ground. The mother dragon tilted her head as she watched before her eyes turned to shock as she saw foliage cover her eggs! Miara spoke while her magic seeped into through soil, explaining as best she could how for the mother dragon to take her eggs safely from here and not come into conflict with humans, elves, or dwarves.

The eggs were soon covered in a dense, sturdy-looking satchel made of grass and soil. The mother dragon lowered her long neck as Miara, using her telekinetic magic, placed a strap on the giant beast.

"Stay away from the humans, elves, and dwarves," She spoke softly at the dragon, hoping at least the mother could understand the general meaning of her words. "Keep the kiirre safe" The dragon let out a gentle growl in turn, almost in gratitude, and she leaned in, allowing Miara to run a hand over the rough scales.

The dragon part of her raged, roaring that she shouldn't be so compassionate for this creature... but the voice of Miara, the mother, was far more assertive, so she listened to it. Doing what she thought for the future mother.

The elf patted the dragon's neck once the makeshift sack was secure. "Go, bo lok."

The dragon spread her wings and flapped, soon lifting off from the ground, and the sack with her eggs dangled safely from its makeshift pouch carried by the great mother. The dragon flew off into the distance with a roar until she disappeared.

Miara followed her with her gaze until she could no longer see the beast. She sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose as a hundred different thoughts ran across her mind. She didn't know how this lesser breed of the dragon had existed, but the answers had to lie somewhere in Thedas.

Her mission had become a lot more complicated.

Shaking her head, she concentrated on the now; the Couslands and their party would wonder where she had gone and if she had faced the dragon. She couldn't just tell them she had allowed it to go free with its unborn offspring; she needed to convince them that the dragon had escaped on its own accord.

Looking around the nest, Miara figured at least she could fake a more convincing scene. Fire bloomed from her hands as she scorched the earth; with fortune, they'd believe the fire was the dragon's doing who had struck in retaliation.

Her movements stopped momentarily as she felt a familiar presence approach; she continued even as a great weight landed behind her, making the ground tremble. The dunmer in disguise focused on making the whole place into a convincing battlefield.

A deep rumble came from behind her. "You let that... thing escape?"

Miara did not turn to face him. "It had offspring I couldn't kill."

"Bah!" A grave snarl followed. "Blasphemy. Dovah has no beginning nor end; that was an abomination and should have died like one."

"Whether true, dovah or not, I still felt a... connection. It is weaker than a proper dragon soul, but it was 'there.' Even if it was just a spark when I saw the eggs... I couldn't do it, Odahviing."

Once briefly an enemy, now Miara's dearest zeymah, the ruby red dragon had followed them from Tamriel upon he and Durnehviir being told of the seers' prophecy and Thedas. The undead dragon of the Carin was quite fascinated and requested that he be summoned to those shores. Odahviing playfully grumbled but came along anyways, being as much an adventurer as his dear briinah.

The ruby dovah shook his head in disapproval but said nothing. "To think those creatures had survived this long. Amazed the joor had not hunted them all for sport."

The elf kept to her work; "What are they?"

"Dovah-Sunvaar," A seething growl came from her zeymah as if angry, calling these animals dragons. "Though we have more colorful names for them."

"Zeymah..."

"What words could I begin to offer Briinah? The Dov knew not how they came to be, but we have all hated them. A mockery of our Bormah and ourselves!"

"Wait" The way Odahviing spoke, "How long have the dov known about this?"

"What do you think Alduin did when he wasn't seen flying over Skyrim?" The red dragon replied with a question of his own. "He traveled across Vus, seeking our buried fallen to revive them. Including what he called 'forsaken lands,' only to find bestial things that dare imitate us."

Miara grew pensive at his words, "Alduin was here before..." She needed to consult the books on these Thedosian dragons and see what she could find. If a dragon as devastating as the World-Eater had flown over these lands in the past, there had to be a record depicting him; wherever the Firstborn went, catastrophe followed. "So, does that mean there are true dov here?"

"Hmm, there must be," Odahviing replied. "I know more of our kin in Akavir than I do of this place, and when Alduin returned, he kept the matter silent and forbidden; whatever he found in these lands invoked his ire. I'd imagine it has something to do with all these lesser dov."

The Dragonborn let out a long-suffering sigh as she threw her head back. "The more I learn about Thedas, the more confused I get. Something is... wrong here. I can't explain how or why, but the signs are everywhere."

An amused chuckle came from the ruby dragon; "I'm certain you will find something, briinah. You are by far the most curious dovah I have ever met." A polite way of calling Miara nosey before he took to the skies again.

Barely three minutes had passed as shouting came towards the Dragonborn. Not long before, the Cousland brothers, Loke, and loyal knights came to a scene of heavy devastation. Smoke and fire covered much of the area as Miara sat on a rock staring at the lot. "What kept you?"

Fergus gazed in shock at the destruction; "What in the name of Andraste happened here?!"

"Found the dragon and soon fought," the elf hopped off the boulder approaching them; "Then another one decided to drop in."

Ser Ector came her way in concern; "We heard; that had to be a High Dragon. Are you alright?"

"I am fine," she spoke with a smile; "As I said, I've fought with quite a few dragons back home. The Coast should be safe now."

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Their hunting party did not succeed in killing the dragon, and more worrying was the sudden presence of a high dragon that suddenly decided to fly off to Maker-knows where. They had not even seen the beast nor where it had gone to. Even though Miara assured them, the dragon would not be returning.

The elf was their only source on dragons and their behavior, but Marcus needed clarification on her claims. He honestly did not believe a lot of what she said. As Marcus walked back to his room, tired from all the constant riding and ready to retire on his bed, he pondered back on the myriad of things she had told them about.

He did not believe the elf to be malicious; her having saved his father without asking for a reward told a lot about her character. But... it was her tales he had a lot of trouble believing. She spoke with all a bard's cadence and grandiose speech; she knew how to make tall tales and sell them to her audience with a sweet, honeyed tongue. But that was all there were to Marcus, tales. He was sure most of his family was humoring her.

Did she expect them to believe there were anthropomorphic cat and lizard people? All manner of strange and mystical creatures (including the long-dead griffons) beyond some of Thedas' wildest tales? Elves that lived for centuries, with her being old enough to be his and Fergus' great-great-grandmother?

Fairy tales to entertain the children, if anything.

Iona and Amethyne were quite taken with the woman, though. And from what he heard from their Alienage, so were the rest of the elves of Highever. So there was that, at least.

XxX ~ xx ~ XxX

Marcus groaned as he stirred from his bed. A much softer noise came to his ears and made his eyelids open. A warm smile graced his lips at the sight of a sleeping Iona, resting her head on his chest, naked as he was from their previous nightly activities.

His sapphire orbs turned to the ceiling, had two weeks gone by? Didn't feel like it had been that long since Father had brought home that strange elf that saved his father and had driven off two dragons from the Storm Coast.

The elf had been... busy from sparring/training with the soldiers to spending a lot of time in the armory, not to mention the amount of time she spent studying with Aldous or helping the elves of the Alienage with whatever they needed. There was not a moment when Miara seemed to stop like she was a woman used to going from one place to another, doing a hundred different things simultaneously. Marcus guessed he could attribute it to her lifestyle if her stories were anything to go by (not that he believed them).

Her stay here had extended beyond what the youngest of the Cousland brothers was comfortable with, and he had shared his concerns with his father. His father was not blind to his gratitude and debt to the elf, but Miara did not show hostility or ill intent towards their family. His father had even confided in him that he was considering paying Miara to help protect Highever while he was away in the coming battle. Mercenary work was a familiar concept to the elf.

His father told him he had entertained the thought of hiring her to fight in Ostagar but did not want to overstep his bounds to someone who had saved his life and his men.

Marcus had experienced (somewhat painfully) Miara's fighting prowess firsthand and did not doubt for a moment the elf would be a boon to any armed forces. So he at least understood his father's reasoning.

Hmm, come to think of it. He did promise to visit the Alienage during one of Miara's visits; it did well for the peasantry that the nobility in charge could openly mingle with them. He was also somewhat curious about the various works the elf had made with the dwarves on the smithy; at points, they had gotten so much into it that they forbade anyone in so they wouldn't be distracted.

Marcus wouldn't admit it out loud, but the look on his father's face when they shut the door to him was one of the funniest sights he'd ever seen. Not everyone could get away doing that to a teyrn.

Looking at his beloved, he briefly considered spending the rest of his day in bed. But he had his responsibilities to attend to.

He carefully shifted out of her grasp and began looking for his clothes; at that moment, Iona woke up, rubbing her eyes with her hand. "What time is it?" She groggily asked.

"Early morning," He answered as he fastened his pants. "We're wasting daytime, come on" He gave her a teasing smile. "Lots to do today."

She sighed exaggeratedly, preferring to spend the day on the comfortable bed. "Alright, alright..." She surrendered and began changing. "So, today we're going to the Alienage, right?"

"Right," He confirmed as he put on a boot. "'Storytime,' Miara said. One of her outlandish tales again, no doubt."

Iona chuckled; "While I doubt the authenticity of such stories, you can't say they're not engaging. She has a bard's tongue." Miara had made it a pastime of her to tell stories to the children till they fell asleep. The age-appropriate kind. When they were deep into a slumber, the adults were gifted with the more 'adventurous' ones, often received with laughter and cheer.

"Perhaps," Marcus admitted as he put on a linen shirt. "But I'm more curious about her works on the forge with the Greybacks. I swear they're experimenting like alchemists. I heard at some point they used stormheart to make a bow, a 'bow', not armor or other weapons. That makes no sense; stormheart works better as-."

"My darling, you presume I care about smithing..." The elf teasingly droned out before he could go on a rant.

"Right, right," He laughed to himself.

XxX ~ xx ~ XxX

As the morning activities had begun around the castle and village, people greeted the youngest Cousland and his bride-to-be as they strolled throughout Highever. The couple was always either animated in conversation or simply enjoying being in the presence of each other. Of course, it did not stop the idle gossip from servants, villagers, and soldiers of a highborn and elven woman openly in a relationship and soon-to-be-wed.

For many, the very idea was outright scandalous! For most, elves were considered pleasures for the bedroom and nothing more. Less considered them only fit for servitude to nobility and nothing more. Few were brave enough to express their opinions to Marcus, who either ignored them or punched them for their hateful belligerence towards Iona and Amethyne.

While a more minor few had seen this as a way to possibly start mending the gap between the elves and humans, seeing such a union between a human of nobility and an elven woman who both loved each other gave much hope.

Their pace was casual as Marcus and Iona strolled through Highever, being greeted by the peasantry. Not far behind, Ser Gilmore and Ser Ector followed as their guard listened to the couple chatter. "Miara's stories have enraptured Amethyne since she started telling them in the Alienage," Iona spoke idly as she leaned her head on Marcus's arm.

Also explained why her daughter was not with them, likely had gone with the foreign elven woman along with Loke. Iona was surprised at how quickly her daughter warmed up their strange distant elven kin. Not that Miara minded, as they saw she adores children as much as she loves forging.

"It's wondrous hearing about the elven heroes of Tamriel," Iona spoke again while in thought; "Not to rest value to those we have here," Iona pointed out. "There is Thane Shartan, Warden Garahel, and... And..." Her brow furrowed in concentration as she struggled to develop a third example, growing disheartened when she found none. "I guess we could use more stories of elven heroes, even if they are from far-off shores."

Marcus was sure there were other famed elves in Thedas but none that the general populace would like to hear about. The Chantry certainly did not help with their stance on the elven folk, erasing every trace of their culture and heritage and scrapping the involvement of elves in historical moments. Hell, his father Bryce had fought alongside elves who gave their lives in opposing the Orlesian Empire.

Miara had said there are various tribes or civilizations of elves in Tamriel. For example, Altmer, dunmer, and bosmer had yet to go much into what differentiated them besides a few cultural cues. She had said the dunmer split from the altmer due to religious differences, the bosmer sounded a lot like the dalish, and the altmer were the elves with griffons.

Yes, that was the part that stood out to him. And no, he could not stop thinking about it.

The bottom line was that the elves in Tamriel possessed thriving cultures, kingdoms to call their own, and actual homelands where they practiced their beliefs and costumes without fearing human oppression.

The look on Iona's face when she first heard about it was... Marcus couldn't describe it easily. Was it hope? Yearning? The willful thought that one-day Amethyne could experience something like that? He could not put it into words.

As they neared the alienage gates, the couple saw the elves gathering around their great tree. No doubt surrounding Miara, the elf was standing up over something; perhaps on a chair or a stool, so her audience could all see her and her words wouldn't be drowned in the middle of the crowd. She smiled upon spotting them, doing an elaborate curtsy, causing the other elves to turn and greet the young Cousland with their signs of respect.

"Ahhh, the youngest son of Lord Cousland and his lady love graces us with their presence!" She spoke with that grandiose tone she used to narrate her stories. "Come, come! The more, the merrier!"

Marcus nodded his greetings as he and Iona approached with their guards. Stopping momentarily to see him shake the hand of the alienage elder.

Kharis was starting to look his age; every year, there was grayer to his hair and more wrinkles on his face. "My young lord, it's always an honor to have you here."

"It is my pleasure to spend time with my people, elder," The young Cousland replied with a sincere smile. The elves were not afraid of approaching their lord; he welcomed them all, and he was a far cry from how many other nobles interacted with their elven peasantry. "I believe there are also some matters we need to discuss regarding the alienage, yes?" He had read a report about the water of their well-being being very dirty lately; it was a matter that needed to be taken care of.

"Yes, of course, but that can wait for now" The elder smiled widely. "Lady Miara is about to start one of her stories."

"Oh yes," the dark elf clasped her hands together as she smiled; "This was a tale from the third era of Tamriel when great darkness took hold in the lands of the dunmer in Morrowind. A plague swept through the land made by the dark sorcerer Dagoth Ur. And a man who rose from the ash lands and became a hero of Dunmer. The Nerevarine!"

All the children looked in awe, Iona soon finding her dear Amethyne sitting with the mabari war hound beside the other children. Even the adults looked at Miara with interest.

Naturally, Miara would have to cut out certain events of that old story, given her father had killed three living gods... Thankfully she did learn from the Bards College other than going into many dangerous ruins with Mara knowing what's in there to fetch some lost instrument or book of songs.

"He was born on a certain day to uncertain parents. And what more humble beginning can there be than being all by yourself, with no family or lineage, with a path as uncertain as your origin? Who would know that such a great hero would have started as just another urchin on the streets? Well, as Fate would prove time and time again, it is often that type of individuals, the downtrodden, the meek, the unlikely, the ones whose future seems dim and fickle, who became the heroes who shape history."

And she began her tale. A young elf born on the streets, whose decisions would eventually lead him to become a prisoner, a tool for the empire to use on a province besieged by strife.

He was met by mistrustful eyes everywhere he went. That is how the elves of Morrowind had learned to survive for so long, always keep your hand on your sword, for even someone who gives you a cordial smile might be keeping a knife behind his back.

But not Nmeryn, who always showed his true face wherever he went, whoever he talked to. He was simply a man looking to start over. A man who knew nothing of his past did not want to muddle up his future with lies and deception.

Yet Morrowind would only let his journey be a challenging one. Dark magic had called upon abominations, twisted monstrosities, and grotesqueries that swarmed the ashy lands, destroying everything in their path. A plague that consumed all and turned them into rage-filled creatures. Such a threat needed to be fought.

But Morrowind was home to proud, extremely arrogant people who were too caught up in their struggles to begin facing the greater threat. Nmeryn would not have it; he could not stand the lords in their palaces and sat on their thrones while good honest folk suffered. If the great houses did not move to act, he would make them act.

"He fought with spear and blade, armor enchanted with the finest magics, no warrior could match his mettle, and no beast could overcome his martial prowess. One by one, he went to the Great Houses of Morrowind. The pious and dutiful Redoran, the cunning merchants of Hlaalu, and the reclusive mystics of the Telvanni. 'Would you not act?!' He demanded, 'Your land burns while you stay idle!'"

"But the lords repeatedly denied him, 'Who are you to speak to us? By what right do you call upon us to action? Show us why we should listen to you, why you are so worthy.' Nmeryn could have raged. He could plot and scheme to get his way, for many of these lords were petty highborns too caught up in their disputes. But he stayed his hand and listened, and instead told them; 'Then tell me how can I prove myself.'"

They tasked Nmeryn with all quests, from the bland and meaningless to those that would take the heart of more extraordinary men. Many used him for their benefit; others had turned to him in desperation, for they had nothing to lose. The elf had accomplished all these and more.

"The common folk looked at him in awe and thought, 'This man is a hero.' The lords could only stare incredulously, 'How is he still alive?' Nmeryn's numerous deeds were so outstanding and challenging that he should have fallen a hundred times over by all rights. Even the lofty lords could not help but feel humbled by such martial prowess, such unrelenting drive. But Nmeryn's strength came not from the bite of his steel or the strength of his armor; it was his sheer, raw determination. The man had set out to protect Morrowind, and nothing would stand in his way."

From the Ashlanders to the Great Houses, many had begun to see him as something beyond mortal. Many even compared him to the greatest hero of their history, Nerevar. And of that, there could be no coincidence, for who else could care so much for the people of Morrowind? Who else could overcome the challenges Nmeryn had? Soon the praises spread the tale of he was hailed as Nerevar reborn, the Nerevarine.

Many people called him the 'great one,' and the houses acknowledged his might. He had earned their respect, so with their aid. He sent forth to stop the horrific disease that plagued them, which he discovered resulted from a foul sorcerer of untold power known as Dagoth Ur. The mad mage had boasted himself equal to a god.

"'Who are you to stand before me?!' Shouted Dagoth Ur, but the Nerevarine merely looked at him with a gaze that could bring down castle walls, 'I'm just a nobody who was in the wrong place at the right time.' Their battle shook the foundations of Red Mountain, ash and fire spewed in their rage! Dagoth's unearthly powers called forth magics that toyed with the laws of reality, but Nmeryn carried the hopes of an entire people. He would not fall!"

Silence, utter silence when she took a pause.

"And he did not," She softly continued. "He defeated Dagoth Ur, saving untold innocents, and when his role in history was done, he set out for lands unknown" She moved her arms dramatically, "And such is the tale... of the Nerevarine" And bowed.

The applause she received was deafening. Hearing such a story filled the cheers with excitement and utter joy. Miara had a gift that was something Marcus could not doubt. Her voice just made him imagine every part with so much clarity. He could not stop smiling.

The faces of the elves, though, their joy was something else... Marcus had been born into a wealthy home, always having everything. He did not endure the hardships of war, faced prejudice, lost no homeland, and his heritage and culture were never stolen. He could not understand what the elves had gone through but now understood how much they needed this. To know that somewhere, somehow, their people could live free, honoring their own culture without fear of subjugation.

Miara's story could inspire them to believe their lives could be better; they could make something for themselves. Greatness was not beyond their reach.

But seeing the sheer joy from Iona and Amethyne, who cheered as much as the others, made listening to the tale all the better.

Miara clasped her hands together; "Now I have a bit more for you all today, mostly songs, however. What to hear them?" Hearing her audience's unanimous nods, she smirked, "I don't have an instrument but have been told I have quite the singing voice."

XxX ~ xx ~ XxX

"I must admit, this story felt a touch different than others you told us," The young Cousland said as he and his companions stood by the Vhenadahl. He idly glanced and smiled at the sight of Amethyne and other elven children playing with Loke, already hearing about they played at being great elven heroes like Shartan, Garahel, and now the foreign hero Nmeryn. Meanwhile, many of the alienage elves mingled with each other, leaving some room for the young lord's group to speak.

"Did it?" Miara did not express surprise or confusion despite her retort. "Well, you could say this story is dear to me for... certain reasons. Forgive if I do not go into them."

"I understand," He conceded, respecting her privacy.

"It was a magnificent story, my lady," Elder Kharis spoke, "It did lift the spirits here. We seldom have any of our own stories from the old kingdom. I doubt even the dalish remember much."

The foreign elf smiled, "It was my pleasure. I thought they could use a story like that."

"Though I admit," Iona said, "More than elves having their kingdom, it surprises me more than some of their nobility sounds... not too unlike humans here. Present company excluded, of course, my darling," She jokingly added.

"Thank you," He replied with the same levity, electing a few chuckles from the elves and his guards.

"Oh, I wish I could tell you it's not like that in Tamriel," Miara expressed, "but it'd be a massive lie. Now I've met my fair share of generous and reasonable nobles... but for every one of them, there are also those stuck-up bluebloods who believe themselves 'superior' just because their great-great-grandfather owned a farm or something..."

"Hmph, the type of nobles who abuse their power seems to be a constant," Marcus gruffly said. "No matter the land or race"

"Not everyone can be your father, my lord," Sir Ector, one of his escorts, said. "But fortunately, not everyone is like Kendells and his brat."

The name elicited a hiss from Cousland. "Kendells... I still can't believe what happened" Those present knew what he was talking about. How could they not? The news of a noble's death spread like wildfire, particularly in such a fashion.

Vaughan Kendells, an arrogant bastard of the highest grade, was murdered in his own home alongside his friends. His father was nowhere to be found; he had disappeared after leaving Denerim on business, likely assassinated. With no living heirs, the Kendells were officially a dead house, their holdings going to other nobles of Denerim.

The circumstances surrounding his death left a bitter taste in everyone's mouth.

"Heard he kidnapped some elven women on their wedding day!" Sir Ector said in loathing and disgust. "And then he and those degenerates with him are found dead. Maker forgives, but those bastards had it coming."

"No one here will fault you," Marcus assured him, sharing his intense dislike for the pampered brat that treated living people like toys. "The news said he was torn apart like a bear had mauled him. It must be a hound, a mabari, most likely."

Oh, it was not a Mabari that killed Vaughan, Jonaley, and Braden. Miara knew the being who had slew those three pompous and privileged idiots. But she would never say a single word, though what got her attention was the person who took the full blame for the slaying. "A Gin Tabris did it, you say?" Oh, Serana, did you pin the blame on some innocent bystander?

"I've met him," Iona spoke, "but in passing at best. I'm friends with his cousin Shianni. She helped look after Amethyne before Lady Landra brought us to her home. But I'm glad Gin was recruited as a Grey Warden instead of being executed."

That was sheer luck that Warden Commander Duncan was in Denerim when that sorted affair took place.

Well, to Miara, Fate and luck were often the same.

XxX ~ several days later~ XxX

"So, this Rendon fought alongside your father in the rebellions?"

"Indeed, he's been a family friend ever since. I remember when I was young, I would even call him 'uncle'"

Miara and the oldest of the Cousland brothers were conversing about the upcoming visit from Rendon Howe, whom the elf was learning to be another lord of Ferelden, this time from the lands of Amaranthine that made direct contact with the sea to the east.

As Fergus said, he and Bryce went back long ago, having fought side by side during the rebellions against Orlais with Leonas Bryland. Their friendship remained even today, with Bryce and Eleanor present during his wedding to Eliane Bryland, Leonas' sister.

Though evidently, relations with Bryland's side of the family were... 'Cold' was an understatement, as Miara heard. Rendon had made some questionable choices in his life.

"He can be..." Fergus was trying to devise a word to describe Rendon properly; "Abrasive, but he's not outright unreasonable."

At that, the elf just shrugged, having met those types of nobility all over Tamriel. Just meant, however, she had to watch her temper, or she might punch him. "He will be going with Bryce and yourself to Ostagar."

As Bryce knew it would come, a letter of summons came from the king needing more troops and experienced warriors. Preparations were well underway as Ser Ector was seeing to the Cousland soldiers who were leaving for Ostagar.

"Yes, Rendon is an accomplished warrior like Father is."

Fergus said he took out his sword from his sheath and inspected it. "I must admit, I'm surprised your stay here has lasted so Miara. Not that I'm complaining or anything."

"Well, Bryce offered to pay me to act as a guard. I told him I required no payment. I will remain here until he returns from the south."

"Truly?" He was honestly surprised by that attitude. "Wouldn't that take too much of your time to explore more of Thedas?"

"Young man," Miara had to laugh at that. "Time is something I have in abundance."

The way she said it was a touch strange, but Fergus paid it no mind. "Well, we are very grateful for that regardless" He put away his sword and began inspecting his armor set on a rack.

Miara observed the elder of the Cousland brothers, measuring him in her way. "Have you been to war before?"

"I fought many times in battles."

"Not what I asked" The elf shook her head. "War is nothing like a skirmish with bandits. Strategy, logistics, morale, assets, experience, and everything you have available will play a part. And then, when the proper fighting starts, you must do everything in your power to retain a semblance of control over your emotions. Once the battle starts, everything becomes... chaos," She stated gravely yet softly. "Metal tearing through muscle and bone, armor cracking, the roars of rage, too many distractions. Blood is pumping so fast that you hear your heartbeat. Eventually, the line breaks, and allies and enemies fight 'everywhere.' If you don't recognize a fellow soldier by his armor the moment you see him, you might accidentally kill him in the confusion."

Fergus turned his gaze to the elven woman; her tone carried much weight and experience. "Have you been in a war?"

"I have been in two." Miara said simply as she looked him in the eyes, "First was a civil war that had been going on for years in Skyrim. The second was an all-out conflict throughout Tamriel against a group of elven supremacists." The elf gazed up at the sky; "the first one could have been prevented. But hate can blind even good men."

Her tone was mournful. The oldest son of Bryce couldn't place her in it. "...And the second war?"

"Was a long time coming," her voice held a fierce edge upon returning to Fergus.

The Cousland pondered her words for a moment. "Did you win?"

"I wouldn't be here if we hadn't" She sighed, picking up his helmet and inspecting it. "I'd like to think it was worth it, giving us all the new start we needed. I guess time will tell."

She remained silent after that, looking at that particular piece of gear in her hands, running a thumb over the ridges across the cheek section as though the item in question brought back memories.

"Never liked wearing helmets," Miara absently spoke, "I'm an agile fighter; these things limit my field of vision. I need to be aware of my surroundings" She put it back on the armor rack. "Normally, I would advise you further, but the enemy you face is beyond conventional warfare."

From what she read, the Darkspawn were monsters in every sense of the word. They could not be reasoned with, bargains and deals were out of the question, intelligence could only get them so far, the Darkspawn didn't fight among themselves, and there weren't different groups with their self-interests that could be exploited. They wanted no lands, no riches, only the utter corruption and destruction of all creation.

This battle came down to the two most basic things of warfare. Defend and attack until the enemy is defeated. It was childishly simple, but such a direct approach was the only one that would be effective against them.

Fergus muttered as he readied his gear. "No Archdemon has been spotted thus far, but that does not mean it's not around."

Healthy paranoia was good, and Fergus had a good head on his shoulders. He would need that for Ostagar. Letting the young man get ready for his duties, Miara bid her farewell and left. The elven woman greeted a few guards and servants that passed her and nodded to Mother Mellol in her chapel.

It was only a short time before she came across Marcus, who wore a simple cotton shirt, leather pants, and boots. "Where's your better half?" Miara partially joked with a smirk.

"Lady Landra arrived today with her son Dairren. Amethyne is playing with Oren. I'm going to see Father. Heard Rendon finally arrived," Marcus invited her with a friendly smile. "Would you like to join me?"

The elf smiled back, "Of course," and the two approached the main hall. "So, your father is leaving you in charge of Highever," Miara idly commented.

"The castle affairs mostly," He shrugged, "Mother helps oversee the matters of Highever in general too."

"Well, it only makes sense" She smiled teasingly, "Your mother sure has a commanding presence."

That got a snort from the blue-eyed young man. "Don't have to tell me..."

They soon arrived at the main hall, the guard opening the door. There they saw Bryce conversing with another man dressed in fine clothes that indicated his rank and status. He looked a bit older than Bryce if Miara was being honest, his face was more wrinkled, and the shape of his nose was much more pronounced. It wasn't exactly an attractive trait. That had to be Rendon Howe, Miara imagined.

"-at least the Orlesians were men, not these... monsters" His voice dripped with disgust.

Bryce just joked in reply. "At least the smell will be the same!" He soon spotted his youngest son and his guest as they approached. "Ah, here you are! Rendon, you remember my son Marcus. And this is-"

"Excuse me for a moment, you there," Howe suddenly called to the elf, making Miara stare at him in confusion. "Run a message to my men at the stables; tell them I'll meet them in an hour. My thanks" He turned back to Bryce, seemingly unaware of the flabbergasted look he was giving him. "Sorry, you were saying?"

"...He did not just do that," Marcus muttered in disbelief with a shake of his head. A worried gaze at the elf at his side assured his fears.

Miara's eyes had narrowed ever so thinly while her ears dropped dangerously.

Recovering from this stupor, Bryce pinched his nose and sighed deeply. "And this is Miara Redoran" He gestured to the elf that the Arl of Amaranthine had mistaken for another servant. "She saved my life a couple of weeks ago..."

Upon hearing that from his old friend, the Arl blinked and gave the elf another look. Well, she was certainly taller than most elves and dressed better; "Oh, so this is the foreigner you spoke of., Arl Rendon Howe of Amaranthine." he gave a small nod.

He did not understand apologizing as he turned his gaze to Marcus and began speaking like nothing had happened. Fergus did say Rendon was abrasive; now Miara could put being a horse's ass as well.

"Rendon," Bryce spoke up with a strong tone as he glared at his longtime friend.

The Arl rolled his eyes; "Oh, very well." He looked at Miara; "Apologizes for my words, my lady." Was that even remotely sincere? Honestly, the elf didn't care at this point, but the principle of the matter irritated her still.

But let it never be said she was a poor guest. She smiled back and nodded; "Accepted, my lord Arl."

"If I may ask," The arl spoke casually, "Will you stay in Highever while we march for Ostagar?"

"My stay here has prolonged beyond my original expectation, as Bryce had sought to hire me to protect his family while he is away. I refused any pay," She clarified. "It'll simply be my pleasure."

"And I'm very grateful for it, Miara," Bryce said sincerely.

"I see..." Howe said unreadily before turning to Marcus, "And Marcus, my goodness boy. You're all but a fine young man now!" He smiled with the same familiarity one reserved for friends and family.

The blue-eyed young man grinned back in kind. "It is good to see you again, lord Howe."

"And I heard you're soon to be wed; oh, that shattered my poor Delilah's heart," The arl said dramatically.

It took some restraint for Marcus not to roll his eyes; "Pardon my words, but those are lies. Delilah and I have our... differences."

Bryce clarifies for Miara, "He means they detest each other," Causing the elf to look at the young man amusedly.

Marcus scoffed. "It has gone a long way since we were children. We never could get along. And I fear it only got worse with the years."

"Like the time she described your swordsmanship 'like a madman dancing by flailing his arms around,'" His father dryly prompted, "and you said her horse riding had the same grace of a 'druffalo after ten pints of ale'?"

"...Yes, like that."

The young noble turned and glared at the sight of Miara giggling at his expense. "Do slightly agree on the sword skills, though."

"Ha. Ha," Marcus droned before he rolled his eyes.

The elf regained control but smiled delightfully; "Well, as a guard, I think I'll walk around the halls for a bit." She gave a bow to the men before excusing herself.

XxX ~ xx ~ XxX

It did not take her long to return to her room, whereupon, closing the door, she cast a silence rune on it, the magic affecting the entire guest chamber, stopping any sounds from being detected by the outside. It was a routine thing she did every few days, necessary safety measures whenever she needed to communicate with her family about their current whereabouts and activities.

She sat on the bed and held her right hand before her face, the sapphire gemstone ring glowing slightly as she channeled her magic. The sending crystal activated, prompting a link between the other four rings bound to it. The signal was sent; if they were available, they would answer.

A speck of light floated over the ring, indicating someone had answered. "Hello?" Serana's voice came through, the dot of light lightly vibrating in the air as its form seemed to shudder like water whenever the other side spoke.

"Hey, love," Miara said with a smile.

"Burned down a castle yet?" Serana's voice replied, amused.

The elf rolled her eyes, "Am I a flame atronach?"

"Oh no, silly me, you're just a dragon. FAR LESS likely to burn stuff down."

"Sometimes I think I should have left you in that crypt..."

"You'd miss this hot ass of mine."

At that moment, another dot of light appeared over the ring, Serana's dot moving away a bit to make room. "Why are we discussing butts?" Came Sarya's voice.

"Oh, speaking of disasters waiting to happen by your mother," Serana said, amused.

Miara rolled her eyes as two other dots came to life as the elf's oldest spoke; "You do realize when saying that they do happen, right?"

"Oh, hush!" Serana nearly yelled with embarrassment in her tone.

"So, how is everyone?" The matriarch of the family soon asked as she sighed.

Oryrn grunted; "Made it to a place called Crestwood. Got a round of odd looks at my armor, even more so when taking off my helmet."

"Hope they are polite to you as the Dalish has been thus far to me." Sarya's sarcasm could rival Serana's at that moment; "You'd think they've never seen a grey-skinned elf before."

Everyone paused as a groan came from Miara and Serana; "You removed your cover?!"

"Just when I got into the forest. And from what I heard about Dalish, they have no love for humans. So why hide what I look like from our cousins? And they thought I was a demon and attacked me..."

Miara pinched her nose, dread and worried washing over her. Not for the youngest daughter, though. "Please, please tell me you didn't kill anyone..."

"Oh please, of course, I didn't!" Sarya sounded offended. "It took a bit of effort, but once they stopped shooting arrows at me, their two leaders came, and we began talking. After that, they were just so fascinated by me!"

"Honey, what did we talk about stroking your ego?"

"Well, they are! Oh, and so eager to learn about the merfolk in Tamriel. Their development is as tragic as it is fascinating. While at their current state, one might compare them to the tribalistic bosmer, excluding the cannibalism, the knowledge they've shared with me and my studies from their ruins show their culture shared much in common with post-Aldmer civilizations such as the Altmer and the Ayleids. This goes to show that even post fracturing of the original continent that was Aldmeris-"

"So Sofie!" Serana quickly interrupted before Sarya's rant could progress any further. "What have you been doing?"

"Nothing as eventful as you would expect," The eldest replied. "Came across a few towns, fought a few monsters, nothing major. Finally stopped at a village called Lothering, where many refugees have been staying with the Darkspawn rising in the south. Many people lost their homes to the monsters, so I decided to stick around and see what I could do to help."

"Have you run into any trouble?" Oryrn asked.

"The most direct problem these people have are bandits taking advantage of them and the wildlife, easy peasy for me. Met some... interesting folks here," Her voice soon gained an excited tone. "Ohhh, there is this lay-sister who sings with the prettiest voice. Reminds me of when you sing, Mom."

"Oh?" A coy smile graced Miara's lips. "Is she pretty?"

"Gorgeous," Sofie said slowly. "Blue eyes and the reddest shade of hair you can imagine. Lovely as a dream."

"Sofie's got a girlfriend~" Sarya singsong.

The eldest scoffed. "Grow up you"

Serana slyly said, "Seen what she looks that under those robes yet?"

Oryrn drawled, "Are we discussing Sofie getting a clergy member to bed? I'm pretty sure that's making them break their vows..."

"LAY-sister, she said," Serana reminded him. "Meaning, no vows yet~"

"About the only thing on my end was a runaway elven mage being chased by Thedas Templars," Oryrn Interrupted as his family went silent. "She did not want to be stuck in Kinloch Hold circle. The Templars were not kind."

"You killed them?" Sarya asked with an edge to her tone.

"They were remarkably well versed in combat. But I proved their better and sent them back. The said mage and I are in some old abandoned fort."

Then a young female voice said, "You can communicate through magically enchanted rings?!"

Miara blinked; "And you are, sweetie?"

"Uh...Sorry, Adalora ma'am. Your son saved my life." The elf soon began to go into hysterics. "What the hell was I thinking, listening to Anders? 'The Templars won't even realize until it's too late,' my ass! He got rid of me the first chance he had, the jerk! They nearly caught me and were going to put me back in the tower, but I couldn't take it anymore, but now I have to spend my life on the run and-!"

"Breath, Adalora, breath," Oryrn calmly assured her. "You'll be fine."

They heard slow deep breathing. "Yeah... Yeah, okay. I'm okay."

"Hmm," Sarya made a curious sound. "How did the Templars find you?"

"O-Oh" The Thedosian elf stammered. "They have a magical artifact called a phylactery. It's a"

"Reliquary containing the blood of a mage, am I right?" Sarya quickly deduced, much to the other elf's surprise. "Yes, we are familiar with the concept of phylacteries back in Tamriel, but we don't use them for tracking."

"I-I see. Anyway, yes, they still have my phylactery. So long as they have it, they can track me. It glows near the mage whose blood is in the reliquary."

"A-ha," The youngest daughter made a sound of understanding. "Would you like to travel beyond their reach to a faraway land?"

"Sarya..." Miara said in a warning tone. "I feel sympathy for these mages too, but DON'T do anything rash."

"Mother, the College of Winterhold, several mage guilds, and the academy in Cyrodiil. She will be safer there than anywhere here, for damn sure!" Sarya said with absolute conviction.

Well, that was true... But it was still a gamble, yet a single life would not make much of a difference in the grand scheme. "Very well"

"Y-you'd let me go to your lands?" the Thedosian elf sounded near desperately hopeful. "But what about Templars?"

"Adalora, I told you, Templars in Tamriel are holy knights of the Nine Divines. Myself included, as I explained." Oryrn said in a calm understanding tone.

"S-sorry... It's just in the circle for so long, and being around the Templars, I know of... It's a bit scary."

That nailed it for the matriarch; "Adalora, I promise Tamriel will be safe for you. Send her to the college of Winterhold. We have quite a few friends there, and they will help you, understood?"

Serana sighed; "It will be weird at first, given all the vast races of our lands. But the college will help you."

"So, what do you say, girl?" Miara asked.

"I..." She paused for a moment before sighing. "I don't have any family here, nothing that ties me down to Thedas... Yes, I want to start over. I want to go somewhere else."

"Okie dokie!" Sarya excitedly said. "Hey, Merrill! I'm heading off for a bit. Can you tell the others I'll be back soon?" She called out to someone.

They heard a somewhat distant, muffled, heavily accented voice, yet could still make out the words and pick up their disappointment. "Awww, but you were going to teach me how to play Legends."

"I'll do it when I get back, don't you worry" She once more spoke directly to the link. "Hang on, I'll be right over" They heard the familiar hum of magic on her end.

"Wait, what did she mean by-HOLY CRAP!" The Thedosian elf screamed and, by the sounds of it fell on her butt. "D-D-Did you just teleport? Across MILES?!"

"Yeah, pretty neat, huh? Have to love Mark and Recall runes. Now, give me your hand I'll take you to a super awesome place where you can learn some real magic!"

Miara heard her son groan but kept Adalora calm; "my twin sister Sarya. You can trust her and the people at the college too. Just be prepared to meet the college Librarian."

"Why?"

At that, Sofie gave her peace; "You have to see for yourself, dear. Trust me. We cannot put it into words."

"O-oh. Okay...Um, thank you all."

Sarya giggled; "No sweat, now get ready to have some real fun!"

Another familiar hum of magic, "And they're off," Oryrn informed.

"Well, that escalated quickly," Sofie offered her modest opinion. "Think our presence here is affecting things a lot?"

Serana snorted, "Oh please, your mom causes catastrophic Fate-related events just by walking around."

"I don't CAUSE them," Miara growled, "I get TRAPPED in them like everyone else!"

The son ignored the familiar rant, "I hope Adalora has a better life there. From what I heard from her, the Chantry and Templars can be very dictatorial and dogmatic."

"...We should keep an eye on Sarya when we can," Sofie worriedly advised, "Last thing we need is her setting fire to every single thing that annoys her about those people."

At that, the others couldn't agree more.

They continued talking casually for five more minutes about what they had been up to; lately, Miara updated them with her recent activities with the Cousland when Sarya finally returned to the link.

"Well, that was fun, I dropped in right in front of a class to introduce her, and she threw up! Side effects of first long-range teleportation for someone of her constitution, I imagine," Sarya said chirpily.

"Now that's an ice-breaker," Serana droned, already imagining that from now to the rest of her life, Adalora would be known as 'Vomit Girl.'

"At any rate, please keep out of trouble," Miara advised.

Serana snorted; "I'm keeping to the shadows following that Grey Warden and his recruit. Overheard them saying they were going to the circle now." The Nordic vampire made a light noise; "I have to say, though, I'm keeping myself well hidden, but that Warden can tell someone is following them."

"Sharp senses," Sofie spoke up in respect.

"Just keep to the shadows," the dragonborn adjusted on her bed; "learn what you can about the Wardens and that Circle."

"Naturally love."

XxX ~ xx ~ XxX

After getting a few hours of rest for night duty, she woke to find Fergus had already left, that was fine, and she had already said her goodbyes to him and had wished him luck. Bryce will be following up tomorrow morning.

Meanwhile, she started her first run of patrolling the castle walls. Not the most glamorous job she had taken, but she liked these people and didn't mind doing this for them. When she got to the southern wall, did the boredom start to set in? She could think of ways to properly set her deck next time she played against Sarya in Legends. No matter what anyone said, she would use lots of dragon cards, no matter how cost-expensive they were.

Her ears twitched as she heard the faint sound of steps. Oh, someone was stalking her, weren't they? Unfortunately for them, long years of experience and enhanced hearing alerted her to such things. It would take a much more prepared rogue, likely wearing some muffle enchantment or invisibility, to get the drop on her.

She humored the would-be assailant when he drew a dagger, still not turning until he was very close...

The moment the dagger lunged for her back, she moved away, grabbing his arm and twisting it at a painful angle without much effort. The dagger fell from his grasp as he shouted in agony.

"And what have we here?" She smiled, finding the situation to be quite humorous. "Alright, I'll give you a chance to tell me who sent you. You don't strike me as a 'mastermind' type who does things himself" He looked unremarkable to her, the sort whose face gets lost in a crowd. This was a good thing for a rogue.

"You fucking knife-ear, I'll AHH!" He shouted again as she twisted his arm further.

"Knife ear? Oh, honey, that insult has long since gone out of style where I come from," Miara said, unimpressed. "Now, start talking before I lose my patience and you lose your arm" She slowly added more pressure until something cracked.

"ARL HOWE!" He shouted, making her blood freeze. "Arl Howe ordered me to take you out as he assaults the castle!"

It was then the shouts of violence rang out throughout the castle itself. Not letting go of her attempted killer, her eyes turned as she saw Howe's men indiscriminately attacking guards and servants!

The rogue let out a chuckle; "What do you expect? All nobles are just snakes waiting to back-stab each other." His twisted sense of humor turned to wild shrieks of agony as his body was set ablaze. Miara paid no attention as the rogue flailed; his body burned before falling to his death as he fell over the wall's edge.

Miara kept her sight on the castle before dashing at her top speed; whatever the reason was, Howe fully intended to erase the Cousland bloodline from Thedas.

"You will burn in the depths of the Deadlands when I find you, Rendon Howe!" Her voice roared with utter rage as she drew both Dragonbane and Dawnbreaker. But first, save those who had become her dear friends.

XxX ~ xx ~ XxX

Everything had moved in a blur. One moment, Marcus and Iona were speaking to each other after making love. The next, a servant had burst through the door in hysterics of an attack before an arrow pierced his throat. The youngest son of Bryce moved fast as he rolled himself and Iona out of the bed before another arrow claimed either of their lives. The assailant was soon brought down by the massive jaws of Loke, who clamped down and soon mauled the man to death.

Iona couldn't stop her heart racing as she stared at the arrow lodged in the pillow. "W-What's going on?"

Marcus focused on the attacker's torn body as Loke came over; "Will find out." He shifted back to his lover; "Get dressed; we have to get Amethyne and find out what's happening."

Though frightened, she briefly nodded as both got on some clothes. Realizing putting on armor would not be quick enough, Marcus donned some thick leather and grabbed his swords. The couple plus hound made for the door hearing a battle cry and seeing a man in full armor charge only for two arrows to pierce his throat and head.

The enraged eyes of Eleanor, also in leather gears, glared as he held her trusty bow; "Attack my family, and you will pay," her voice seethed with anger.

"Mother!" Marcus rushed to her. "The symbol on their gear..."

He didn't want to believe it; it could not be true. He's been their family friend for years; he had fought side by side with his father. Howe just couldn't...

"Questions later" She rushed towards Fergus' room, kicking the door open, and her heart shuddered at the sight. Marcus drew a sharp air intake as Iona covered her mouth in horror; tears ran down her cheeks.

Oriana was on the floor; on her stomach was a deep gash pouring forth blood, making a puddle around her. One of Howe's men was not far from her, dead on the ground with his throat cut. The bloody knife on Oriana's hand and the stained sword on the soldier clearly showed what had happened. Her last act was to protect the children.

The children were currently huddling in a corner, crying their eyes out. Iona swiftly ran to them and embraced them; Amethyne and Oren wailed in fright, their young minds unable to understand what was happening and why this nightmare was happening.

"Oh, Oriana," Eleanor sobbed in grief as she knelt before her daughter-in-law's body, "Fergus, I'm so sorry..."

Though Marcus' heart ached with grief, it was soon filled with righteous anger. Howe had betrayed them and ordered the death of their family. He cared not for whatever goal the arl had, Marcus did not know, and he did not care. He was going to make him pay.

But first, he had his family to protect. He had already failed Oriana; he would not further fail Fergus by letting anyone else die tonight.

The sounds of footsteps drew his attention, and he immediately went on alert; he held his swords tightly as he suspected more of Howe's men were coming. His mother wiped her tears, her eyes swollen with grief, pain, and rage, and quickly drew her bow. They went out to the hall and were met by the sight of five of Howe's men coming for them. The teyrn's wife knocked an arrow and prepared to let loose.

But the arrow was never shot, as arcs of lightning suddenly enveloped the soldiers as though a storm had suddenly manifested inside the castle. Their screams soon ended along with their lives as they fell to the ground, their corpses smoking.

Over their bodies walked Miara, her left hand shrouded in electricity, which soon vanished as she looked at them in worry. "Are you okay?"

Mother and son looked at her astonished; Marcus was the first to gather himself and said the first thing that came to mind, "You're a mage?!"

"I'm a lot of things, dear." She counted Eleanor, Marcus, and soon Iona with Amethyne and Oren; "Oriana?" She was met with grave silence save the crying children and a whimpering Loke. A deep growl came from the elf as her rage boiled; "Dur Daar nikriin!" She shouted before calming herself. Her eyes turned to Eleanor; "I saw two corpses in a guest room. That friend of yours and her son."

"Landra... Dairren," Teyrna's voice was almost hollow as she shook her head. Iona only looked in deep shock, despite her lady's alcoholism; Lady Landra was a good decent woman. Same for her son, who always respected her and her daughter; they did not deserve this!

"We have to focus. I need to get you all out of here," Miara gained everyone's attention as her voice spoke with steel and was full of authority.

Eleanor stood beside her son; "We must get to the Cousland sword and find my husband. Bryce has to be somewhere."

"I'd think your lives matter more than some sword?" Miara cocked a delicate brow.

"That sword goes back to the time of Bann Haelia Cousland during the werewolf crisis in the Black Age. It's a symbol of our family."

Miara simply scowled. "Alright, we get that sword and search for Bryce. But someone needs to protect Iona and the children and get them to safety," She thought quietly as she paced.

She did not use this Shout often. To call upon the honored heroes from the beyond always felt... off with her for several reasons. First, the Shout reminded her of necromancy (which she avoided in any form if she wanted to keep Dawnbreaker), but she often reminded herself it wasn't enslavement; it was a 'Call,' an invitation. And she knew the spirits would hungrily seek to fight gloriously once more.

A part of her, the dragon most likely, did not want that help. She was powerful; to need aid from beyond the grave was like saying her power was not enough. But this wasn't about her, now was not the time for her pride to get in the way.

It was either this or invoking a daedra, and THAT brought too many problems...

She took a deep breath and exclaimed, "Hun" Hero. Shor's halls were filled with them.

"Kaal" Champion. The honored souls of Sovngarde were its warriors; even in death, their battles did not end.

"ZOOR!" Legend. Songs were still sung to their glory.

Her Shout tore at reality itself, reaching into Aetherius as her call echoed through the infinite depths of Sovngarde; its residence looked up eagerly with thunderous cheer as the Dragonborn made her call. Many sought to fight at her side, though few would have the honor like the Three Tongues had.

Yet it was not they who answered, but another. None disputed his right.

The ghost before her made Miara's eyes water as his ghostly shade washed away and gave way to a more physical form. The same furs, wolf-themed plate, warhammer, long beard, and aged face of a warrior who had lived to see many winters. The same eyes, though once tired and weary, now alight with the fire of his youth.

In the few times she had used this Shout, it had always been the Three who answered. So to see this person in front of her again caused her mind to cease for a moment and for her heart to ache with joy.

"Long has it been since I last saw you, pup"

"Kodlak..."

Miara's lower lip trembled as a smile soon formed. She had closed the distance and briefly embraced her dear friend without thinking. The white wolf chuckled as he returned the embrace; "You look well, pup."

Detecting their hug, Miara only smiled as she rubbed away a few tears; "Much better now seeing you, you old grohiik!" Kodlak only laughed as the two turned to see the dumbfounded faces of Marcus, Eleanor, and Iona. The children only looked wide-eyed in awe.

The old Harbinger glanced at his former protégé; "So why are they gawking like newborns?"

"Maybe because they just saw me summon a ghost?" Miara couldn't help but snark, even as the smile wouldn't leave her face. She'd love to talk to the old man but now wasn't the time. "I need you to help me" She pointed at Iona and the children. "Take them away, away from the castle, away from the city even. I'll find you in the outskirts to the south. Don't worry, I'll find you."

"What?" Marcus muttered in disbelief.

"I haven't been completely honest with you; I admit it," Miara spoke. "But I promise you, you can trust me. You can trust him"

By the Maker, he had to be going insane even to consider it, but...

"Your father was with Howe," His mother desperately said.

That was it then.

"Alright," He slowly nodded. "I'll trust you" He stared Kodlak fiercely in the eye. "You will protect them with your life."

"Hah!" The old Harbinger barked a laugh. "Boy, is that phrase is rather moronic" He hefted his large warhammer. "But don't you worry, nothing will get past me" He looked at the elven woman with the children in her hands. "Come on; you will need to guide me."

Iona closed the distance between herself and Marcus, sharing one last kiss before parting. "I'll see you two again, I swear... Go!"

No other words were necessary, Iona escaped with the children in tow, and the Dragonborn knew they'd be safe with Kodlak. No mortal man would best a spirit empowered by Sovngarde itself.

"We have little time, quickly!" The Cousland matriarch shouted as she led the way.

Howe's soldiers stood in their way as they ran through the halls but were met by the deadly precision of Eleanor's bow, the swiftness of Marcus' swords, the ferocity of Loke's bite, and the onslaught that was the dance of Miara's magic and swordplay. Arcs of lightning struck with ferocity, jumping between bodies and leaving smoking corpses in their path; Miara's blades swiftly cut down those that managed to get close; she took no joy in this fight; she just kept killing them as they foolishly charged at them with pure fury.

"The armory!" Eleanor pointed at the other side of the hall, throwing Marcus a key. "Get the sword!"

He did not wait a second longer, marching through the empty barracks and kicking open the now broken lock to the armory. At the farthest end of the room was a magnificently crafted sword that seemed to shine even in the darkness. The sword of his ancestors, the symbol of his lineage.

In another time, Marcus would have held the sword with the proper reverence it deserved. But time was of the essence, so he threw one of his blades asides and grabbed it before quickly rejoining the others.

The trio plus war hound tore through Howe's men while saving the servants who ran to safety or soldiers who joined them. Entering the main hall, they found the most fighting, with even mages working for Howe, who attacked with their magics.

Ser Gilmore led the charge against the invaders while further away, Mother Mellol was watching several other frightened servants and the Greybacks acting as guards. The battle was joined as Marcus roared along with Miara and Eleanor, who charged with the extra men and Loke against Howe's forces.

What Howe's mages were not expecting was their attack spells being repelled by some elven women holding an oddly curved sword. Miara only snarled at seeing so many brave Highever soldiers who had fallen against these scum who served a traitorous snake! An orange hue came from her mouth. "Yol Toor shul!" A stream of pure fire came from the woman's mouth, engulfing Howe's mages, who screamed in sheer pain and agony. "Oblivion awaits you all!" Miara roared as her shout ended.

Her gaze turned to the non-mages of Howe's men, who were now being easily taken down. Though shocked gazes were on the face of every person as they turned and stared at the elven woman, "I'll explain later; Howe's a bigger issue."

"R-right," Ser Gilmore sighed as he leaned against the wall as their men put everything they could to barricade the door. "Marcus, my lady. Your both safe..." Relief washed over him as he ruefully smiled.

"So are Iona, Amethyne, and Oren... But Oriana, Landra, and Dairren…" Marcus's voice trailed off as he grimly looked to the ground.

Gilmore gnashed his teeth, spitting out a curse before shaking his head, "Maker, curse Howe for this."

Miara looked around the hall before her eyes looked wide at a fallen knight. Her steps were slow before she knelt with a mournful gaze; "Ser Ector..."

He fought till the very end as he still gripped his sword. Part of his armor was blackened, signs of fire magic or lightning. She bowed her head, offering a silent prayer to Arkay to watch over this noble warrior.

"Bar the gate!" Marcus ordered, and the soldiers wasted no time closing the gates, pushing their bodies against it to stop enemy reinforcements from coming through. The gate shuddered and banged as Howe's soldiers tried to bring it down from their side, but the men and women of Highever would not relent.

"Where is my husband?" Eleanor quickly demanded.

"Lord Cousland said he was going to the kitchen pantry," Ser Gilmore answered. "He said you were to meet him there."

"The kitchen?" The notion was absurd to Marcus.

"There's a hidden passage there," His mother informed him. That... was news to him, but he did not question it at the moment; that was exactly what they needed.

"You go," The elf spoke in a strong, commanding voice, holding her swords tightly. "I'll hold them off," She said, glaring at the banging door. We will meet you all later.."

"Are you sure?"

"The moment they cross that door, your men will die," Miara grimly told him. "But if I'm here, it is they who shall fall today" It wasn't an arrogant claim but a mere statement of a fundamental truth.

Eleanor was quiet for a moment before nodding; "Very well. All of you survive this night! Howe will pay for this treachery!" The Teyrna, her son, and Loke went to the kitchen.

Miara drew Dawnbreaker as her eyes stayed fixed on the gates; "Soldiers of Highever!" Her voice rang through the hall like steel. "A coward bares his fangs as he tries to slaughter you and your teyrn's line! Stand with me, and show these bastards why Highever soldiers should not be trifled with!"

Every soldier gazed at the woman before them. Mother Mellol, the Greybacks, and the surviving servants also stared at the elf that stood ready to fight for them. "Why?" the chantry mother asked; "you are not from Thedas, and yet you stand with us. You have no reason to remain here, yet you still fight. Why?" Why was this heathen trying to protect them so fiercely?

"Because it's the right thing to do," Miara responded with utter resolution. "Yes, I am a foreigner; some do not trust me. And yes, I have no reason to spill blood to help save any of you."

"So why do it?" The mother asked once more.

"Because only a coward turns away from helping those in need. And those with the skills and knowledge to fight and STILL do nothing?! Are worse than cowards!"

The door banged again, and the wood and metal began to break and bend.

"So let these honorless curs come!" She spun her blades. "Make them pay for what they did to your home and people!"

The knights held their weapons, eyes shining like hungry wolves eager for prey. The soldiers at the gate backed away just in time for the final bang to blow the doors open. Howe's men stepped through.

Only to meet their demise at the hands of furious Highever men and women spearheaded by a whirlwind of blades of arcane powers; no quarter was given, no mercy offered, and the Highever warriors paid blood with blood.

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This nightmare just wouldn't end.

His father's ragged breath was wet; he had lost so much blood that a large puddle had formed underneath him. The wound was too deep; no potion on their person could fix this damage.

His mother cried as she embraced his father's head, pressing him tightly against her, desperately holding on to him. "Please, Bryce, y-you can't..."

"I've done," He coughed, "all I could for you... I pray it was enough, this life I gave you."

Marcus couldn't stop the tears in his eyes. What kind of nonsense was that? His father's the greatest man he's ever known. Loke whined pitifully, unable to do anything, and the hound knew licking his wounds would help none.

"Leave, please..." He weekly begged them. "You need... to survive."

"I won't leave you!" Eleanor cried out.

"You have to, my love," He gasped. "For our family, you need to be there" He smiled, "You always... know what to do and say" He weakly held up one of her hands to his lips, planting one last tender kiss.

His wife wailed in grief, a lifetime together flashing before her eyes.

"Marcus, find your brother" His father gave him one last order. "You must... not allow our line to... end like this!" He coughed up blood.

His youngest shakily nodded. "I swear it, father. We shall have vengeance."

"Yes..." One last moment of defiance, the righteous rage of a proud Cousland shone in his eyes. "Vengeance"

He held his father's hand just once, treasuring every second.

"You're all my greatest pride."

Marcus guided his mother away down through the secret passage, their hearts breaking as Highever burned.

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