Summary:

Bjorn is now accepted as blood-kin on the Orc stronghold Krozdog in the Dragontail Mountains of Hammerfell. Chief Kurdan teaches him how to be a better warrior. Bjorn is planning his revenge on Zalam-dar, Margaret, Wulfmir, and the Thalmor. Some new characters are introduced in this chapter and Bjorn also reunites with some characters from the previous chapter as well. As a bonus, some of my canon characters from other Elder Scrolls games are mentioned at times though they take no direct part in the story.

In many ways, Bjorn had died that day along with his parents. His entire story, his sense of self, and everything else that made up his identity were swept away in an instant. He had been reborn again as someone new, someone without a past and with an uncertain future. His memories about home started to feel like they belonged to another, and they were slowly starting to fade away. Bjorn did not know who this new person would become or what his destiny would be. Would he live a life full of rage and obsessed with revenge? Or would he dedicate his life to helping others and protecting them from other monsters like the Thalmor and Zalam-dar? Which path he'd choose was yet to be determined.

Despite his grief, Bjorn found comfort in thinking about Amirah. He hoped he would one day see her again. She was the only person still alive that he cared about. He dreamed of one day marrying her and starting a , however, wasn't really the settling-down type. Bjorn was aware of this. She wanted to be a traveling bard and mercenary, as she told him many times.

"It doesn't have to be marriage," he thought, "We could adventure together instead and see the wonders Tamriel has to offer. We could perform music and poetry together in inns all over the different provinces. Or we could travel to Akavir and look for the Nerervarine. It doesn't matter what we do as long as we're together. "

Bjorn then started to feel sad and discouraged.

"But what if I end up losing her too? I have to make sure that doesn't happen. I have to kill that cat, that freaky hagraven woman, and that sorry excuse of a Nord before they harm anyone else I care about!"
The only relics Bjorn had of his old life were his mother's lute which he sometimes kept strapped to his back when he wasn't playing it and his father's hammer he'd use when working with the wise woman at the forge. He had long, dirty blonde hair that went down to his shoulders and a fierce look on his face that signaled he was willing to take on any challengers. He wore light armor made of animal pelts and a bandana on his head that he tied into a headband. He had a strong build like his father, all that time working at the forge was starting to pay off for him.

To the younger orcs, he seemed like some sort of strange creature. They had not come across many Nords during their time in Hammerfell and they had not heard of any that were quite like him. Some of them began to feel threatened by his presence.
Since the dawn of their existence, the Orcs had been cursed by the Daedric Lord Boethiah to forever be outcasts and wanderers. They were scorned by the other races on Nirn. The only way they had survived all these years was by sticking together and welcoming an outsider into their community felt like a threat to their security.
Kurdan, however, was very happy to have Bjorn as a member of his stronghold. He spent long hours training him and viewed him as a son.
The chief wanted Orcs to integrate more into society and to improve their image to other races. He'd frequently go out of his way to trade with elves and humans in the nearby settlements. He believed having a human as blood kin could be a large step in moving his people forward. If the public saw what a fine young man Bjorn had become living by the code of Malacath, they might start to question their current beliefs and prejudices about the Orcish people.
One of Kurdan's heroes was Malgash, an Orc warrior from the second era. History remembered him as "The Vestige".

Malgash grew up on a stronghold in Orsinium and had a pretty normal childhood for an Orc. While he felt close to the others in his tribe, something inside him always told him his destiny was elsewhere.
Malgash decided to go out and wander Tamriel in search of his purpose. On his journey, he came across a yellow lab that looked underfed and had a splinter in his paw. Malgash pulled the splinter out of the dog's paw and caught a fish for him to eat. Malgash then knew what his purpose was: to help others like he helped that dog.

He decided he would travel the world using his skills as a warrior to protect the vulnerable from evil. The dog began following him around on his adventures and so Malgash adopted it as his own. He named it "Splinter"

"That was his legacy. Putting the needs of others before his own," Kurdan told Bjorn, "and I hope I can teach you to do the same."

"I'm not doing anything for others until after I kill who I need to kill. "

"I know very well what you seek! But you can't let vengeance and anger consume you! When you fight these people, you must come to battle from a noble and pure place. You can't kill them out of hatred, or for your enjoyment. It must be viewed as a sacrifice for the greater good. By getting rid of them, you are making Nirn safer for others. But you should never enjoy doing it, and it should always be the last option."

"How do I not have hatred in my heart after what they did?"

"It takes practice, Bjorn. Discipline. I know it's hard. But hatred will only hurt you in the end. "

"Or hurt them."-

"Don't let what they did to your family destroy who you are. If you kill for pleasure, or out of spite or for vengeance, you're one step away from becoming just like them. Honor your parent's legacy by staying true to the values they taught you and taking their lessons with you wherever you go."

"Fine, fine," said Bjorn, dismissively.

"There's another thing I must tell you," Kurdan continued, "never be the first to draw your sword."

"What? Are you serious?" Bjorn did not like this advice, "No way! I must slay them before they have a chance. I want to win my fights at all costs!"

"It is better to die honorably than to live with dishonor," Kurdan insisted, "Once you draw your sword, the time for discourse has ended. Your mother was a Bard, right? She would have known better than anyone that most conflict can be solved with words. Never fight for your ego or to prove a point. Only fight if you absolutely have to. Violence is always a last resort."

"Fine. Whatever."

"Also if someone surrenders, accept their surrender. Never kill a man or woman when they are on their knees."

"That's rubbish!" Bjorn couldn't stand listening to this anymore, "Some people don't deserve mercy. I want to cause suffering to those who make others suffer! The people who killed my parents and others like them deserve no mercy!"

"They do indeed!" Kurdan argued, "They deserve that, and a chance for redemption."

"No!" so Bjorn firmly, "They don't!"

"What separates you from them then? You have to be better than them. You have to be bigger than them."

"But they are monsters!"

"Yes! But in fighting monsters, you have to be careful that you do not become a monster yourself! That is why it is important that you put yourself above them and not let them change who you are!"

Kurdan had many talks like this with Bjorn. He wanted him to be strong mentally and spiritually as well as physically.

The rest of the tribe were becoming concerned that Kurdan was spending more time with this young Nord than his fellow Orcs on the stronghold. There was one Orc in particular who resented Bjorn and the Chief's apparent favoritism towards him. He was a brute named Grishnákh. One day, Grishnákh along with a group of his friends decided to confront Bjorn. They found him sitting on a rock outside the stronghold, playing his mother's lute.
"Tell me freak: what kind of warrior plays the lute?"

Bjorn looked up at Grishnákh with a smug look on his face, "Nords have a long history of being warrior poets. Maybe you should ask one of your boyfriends about it. They look at least half as intelligent as you."

"You got some nerve talking to me that way," said Grishnákh, clenching his fists, "You think this is your stronghold now? Maybe someone should teach you some respect."

"So then hit me and be done with it."

Grishnákh grabbed the lute out of Bjorn's hand. Bjorn got up and confronted the Orc.

"Give it back. Now." He demanded.

"Come and take it from me."

Bjorn tried to grab it from him, but Grishnákh lifted it into the air so he couldn't reach it. The orc and his friends laughed. Bjorn was now furious. He grabbed Grishnákh's other arm and twisted it back.

"Ow!" The Orc cried out.

Bjorn grabbed the lute out of Grishnákh's other hand.

"By Malacath! That hurt!"

Grishnákh looked like he was ready to tackle Bjorn. Bjorn placed the lute down in a safe spot in case he'd follow through. And he did.

"Aaargh!" The Orc cried out as he charged toward the young boy.

Bjorn countered Grishnákh's attack and threw him to the ground. Grishnákh slowly started to get up and appeared a bit disoriented. His friends looked as though they were ready to back him up, but he put out his hands to stop them.

"You fight well Nord. I guess your people's reputation as great warriors is well deserved."

"Your chief has taught me well," said Bjorn with a sense of humbleness," I also learned a thing or two from my parents. They were both Great War veterans."

"I see. Well, wherever your skills come from you've earned my respect."

"You've earned mine as well. It is wise for a warrior to know when he is outmatched. I admire you for having the courage to face that."

"Ha! Outmatched? Don't kid yourself. I wasn't even trying! We'll have to go for another round sometime, then we'll see who's outmatched!"

"Challenge accepted," said Bjorn with a smile on his face.

As they grew older Grishnákh and Bjorn became best of friends. Bjorn always wished to have a brother growing up and he finally felt like he found one in Grishnákh.

Despite his difficulties fitting in at the beginning, Bjorn began to feel right at home at Krozdog. While Bjorn was born a Nord, he started to feel like he was an Orc at heart.

Bjorn was never super religious. In fact, after losing his parents he was through with the Nine Divines altogether. The Orc religion appealed to him more. He became a devout follower of Malacath.

The code of Malacath made sense to him. It was simple: don't steal, don't kill, don't attack people for no reason. If the rest of Nirn could limit itself to such a basic set of laws, perhaps there would be peace.

Living on the stronghold, Bjorn was taught two conflicting philosophies. While Kurdan taught Bjorn to control his anger, Grishnákh encouraged him to embrace it. They also had opposing views when it came to how Orcs should relate to the outside world.

Grishnákh accused Kurdan of "apologizing for Orcs." He didn't like how Kurdan acted as if the Orcs had to "prove" themselves to other races and show they weren't savages.

"We should go back to our days of glory!" Grishnákh would say," we should wage war! We should conquer Tamriel and lands far from Tamriel! We'll make people fear us! Then they'll respect us!"

Kurdan feared that Grishnákh was a bad influence on Bjorn. The two of them had a habit of getting into trouble. They would often sneak out to local taverns and get into bar fights, or get involved in some other kind of mischief.

Grishnákh also went to taverns to try to pick up women, but Bjorn was still hung up on Amirah. No one compared to her. He was disappointed that he hadn't run into her after all this time despite her being a local to the area.

While Bjorn and Grishnákh often looked for trouble, it sometimes found them even when they weren't looking for it. One night, the two of them went to a tavern in Dragonstar they frequently visited called the Caravan Company Depot. The inn had been around since the Second Era and it was believed that Malgash visited it when he traveled through the area. Usually, the place was peaceful, but on this night, one patron was being very disruptive.

The patron was a noble from High Rock. He was as drunk as a Nord in a mead hall. He was shouting out profanities to people, claiming he could get away with anything because of his wealth and family name. Bjorn and Grishnákh ignored him until he called out to Bjorn.

"Well, would you look at this spectacle. Were you born in the wild or something? Why are you dressed like that?"

Grishnákh's blood was boiling, "you show my friend some respect!" He growled at him.

Bjorn just laughed at the man's comment and held Grishnákh back, "if you're trying to get a rise out of me, little man, you'll have to do better than that."

"Hah! I remember you now! You're the son of those blacksmiths, aren't you? Or should I say 'dead blacksmiths'," The nobleman chuckled and drank more of his wine and then studied Bjorn and Grishnákh with his eyes, "A commoner who hangs around with an Orc! Ha! That figures. I suppose no one would expect any better of you!"

Now Bjorn was angry. This man had crossed the line.

"My parents were honorable people! They risked their lives fighting in the Great War. They fought so people like you and I could be free and wouldn't have to suffer under Dominion rule. I demand you show them respect!"

"The Dominion won the war did they not? So what purpose did they serve exactly? They are just some dead commoners. History doesn't remember dead commoners. They did craft me this fine dwarven sword though," he unsheathed his sword to display it to them, "so I suppose in that sense they served a purpose."

Bjorn once again saw that black dragon in his mind's eye and pulled out his sword and put it to the nobleman's throat. The tavern grew silent.

The nobleman's bodyguards rushed towards Bjorn but Grishnákh bested and killed both of them before they could reach him. One of their heads went flying off, almost hitting one of the serving girls from across the room.

"You better take that back, now!" Bjorn demanded.

The nobleman laughed arrogantly, "young man, you lay a finger on me and every lord in High Rock will put a bounty on your head!"

"Who says they'll find out about it?" Bjorn pressed his sword closer to the nobleman's throat, "none of you will say anything will you?" he looked around the room with a threatening stare.

The rest of the tavern looked frightened. They wanted no part in this quarrel. The answer to his question was obviously "no".

"Didn't think so," said Bjorn with a smirk on his face, " maybe after I'm done with you I'll carve your body into little pieces and feed you to the animals in the wild. There will be nothing left of you. No one in High Rock will ever know what happened to you. If you have so much protection in High Rock, then perhaps you should have stayed there."

The nobleman was terrified, yet still tried to stand his ground," have you no respect for your betters?"

"You are not my better," Bjorn cut the nobleman's cheek slowly with his blade and it started to draw blood, "you are nothing. My parents were worth ten thousand of you elitist swine. It's your kind that sits in your palaces drinking wine while people like my parents fight your wars for you. I have no respect for you. I loathe you. If I go back to Skyrim, I'll kill every Empire and Thalmor-loving nobleman with a smile on my face. Afterward, maybe I'll take a trip to High Rock and visit your family as well. Now I ask you again to take back what you said about my parents!"

"Okay, okay. I'm sorry."

"You're going to accept that? He's not sorry, he's just trying to save his hide," Grishnákh interjected.

Bjorn then heard Kurdan's voice in his head, "There is no honor in killing this man, let him live!"

Bjorn had drawn his sword first, Kurdan wouldn't have approved of that. He wouldn't have approved of him being so quick to anger either or not showing this man mercy.

Bjorn then could hear his mother's voice telling him "This is not how we raised you!"

Bjorn sheathed his sword, "Apology accepted. Next time remember to watch your tongue."

"What?!" Grishnákh was disappointed, "you're letting it slide now?"

"If you want him dead so badly, then kill him yourself."

Grishnákh didn't have a response to that. Bjorn then turned back to the nobleman.

"I'd like you to give me that dwarven sword."

"What? Why? How will I protect myself?"

"That's not my problem. My parents and I crafted that sword and anyone who disrespects us is not worthy of wielding it."

"Fine, as you wish. It's not worth my life," the nobleman handed him the sword to him.

"Now be on your way, people have had enough of your attitude here. If I ever see you in this tavern again, I won't be happy."

"Ok, ok. I'll head out now!"

"One more thing."

"Yes?" The nobleman was heading out and turned around to look at Bjorn.

"What's your name?"

The nobleman hesitated for a moment and then said, "My name is Louis Motierre."

"I'm Bjorn. And if that is truly your name I will know who to blame if some mercenaries from High Rock come looking for me. Remember that."

The nobleman left the tavern. Grishnákh was frustrated with Bjorn.

"We killed his bodyguards! Do you think he's going to let that slide? You shouldn't have let him leave!"

"You killed his bodyguards, Grishnákh and it was in fair combat, "Bjorn corrected him, "What was I to do? Murder him there? Challenge him to a duel? He wasn't a warrior, just a drunken coward. That little worm isn't going to tell anyone anything if he even makes it to High Rock in one piece that is."

While Bjorn and Grishnákh hoped to keep this incident a secret from the rest of the stronghold, word traveled fast and it eventually got back to Kurdan. Grishnákh was banned from the stronghold as punishment while Bjorn was given only a warning. Grishnákh resented Bjorn for this but knew that it wasn't his decision or fault. Kurdan was the one he loathed, Bjorn was still his brother.

Grishnákh wasn't sure what he'd do now. He thought of meeting up with his sister Mazoga. She had left for Cyrodil a few years ago to join the Imperial Legion. He also thought of staying in Hammerfell for a while and taking up bounty hunting. The latter appealed to him more, so he decided to do that.

About a month or two later Grishnákh summoned Bjorn back to the Caravan Company Depot. He had important news for him.

"I've found her! I've found that woman you were looking for!"

Bjorn's face lit up, "Amirah! You were able to get in contact with her?"

"What? No! Not her! By Malacath, it's been four years! Get over her already! I'm talking about the woman who took part in the murder of your parents. You can finally get your revenge. Well, at least on one of them. She'll probably know where the other two knuckleheads are too. I'm sure you can find ways to get it out of her."

"You mean Hagraven," Bjorn now had a more stern look on his face and an ominous tone in his voice, "You are sure it's her?"

"Well, no not necessarily. I mean it could be one of the millions of other women who walk around with razor-sharp teeth and long brass fingernails acting like a maniac," Grishnákh was getting snarky with him, "Of course, it's her you, knucklehead! How many other people out there fit her description?"

"Tell me what you know," Bjorn wanted to get straight to the point and had little interest in Grishnákh's smart-aleck attitude.

"She's earning her name as a bounty hunter! People see her as a hero! They call her 'Hagraven the Fearless!' She cuts the ears off of the bounties she kills and trades them in for coin. Do you need any more convincing that it's her?"

"Guess she doesn't put them on her necklace anymore then," Bjorn thought to himself.

"Okay, so it's her. You convinced me," Bjorn said to Grishnákh, "Now where do I find her? Where is she?"

"She's at a shrine to Namira west of here. She left not too long before you got here, so you are just in time."

"What? She was here? In this inn?"

"Yes. And she took the bounty poster with her. There have been Namira cultists in the area kidnapping and eating people and she went to go take care of them."

"And you let her leave?"

"Yes. I figured you'd want her all to yourself. Also, it's better you fight her out there than in here. Don't want another incident and for you to get banned this time. Of course, you're the chief's favorite. Doesn't seem like you can do any wrong"

"I hope you don't still resent me for that. You know I stood up for you and begged him to let you stay."

"You could have killed him and taken over as chief. Better yet I should have. But that's all behind us now."

Bjorn wasn't sure what to say to that, "Ok I'll go catch up with her then. Kurdan thinks I need more training before I go out there and…"

"Oh, I don't care what Kurdan says! Don't ever speak that name in my presence. You're beyond ready. You should kill him and become chief already! And then you can welcome me back to Krozdog!"

"I can't be chief, Grishnákh, I'm not an Orc."

"Oh don't give me that. You are more of an Orc than he ever was. The others would vouch for you on that too."

"I appreciate you saying that but I'm not killing Kurdan and I have no interest in being chief."

"Suit yourself."

"I'll head out. Thank you for finding Hagraven for me. It's time I go finish my business with her."

"Hey, you're helping me out too! She's been taking all the good bounties and leaving none for me. If you kill her, you'll get your revenge and you eliminate my competition. It's a win-win for both of us."

Bjorn found Margaret at the shrine. All eight Namira cultists were dead. She was cutting the ears off of her slain foes and putting them into a pouch.

She looked just as she did when he last saw her four years ago. The only thing that had changed was the way she carried herself. While before there was a hint of doubt and uncertainty, she now fully embraced her ruthlessness unapologetically. She was in her mid to late twenties now.

Despite her matted hair and razor-sharp teeth, Margaret was very pretty. If she properly groomed herself, she would have had many suitors. But Margaret chose to be dirty. She chose to look unsettling. She was comfortable that way and she didn't care what anyone else thought about it.

Bjorn walked up to her and drew his sword. He couldn't hold back his rage. She knew he was there but continued to slice the ears off and put them in her pouch without even looking up at him.

"I'd put that sword away if I were you. You don't want to end up like these fine gentlemen do you?"

"Hello, Margaret! Remember me? I'm Bjorn. We met four years ago when you and your friends killed my parents. "

"Oh! You silly man! I've killed many people over the years, you'll have to be more specific than that!."

"You bit into my father's neck like a wretched vampire! And you laughed about it afterward."

"Did I? I'm afraid that doesn't ring a bell," Margaret closed up her pouch, put her dagger away and finally looked up at him, "Maybe because I've killed many people that way."

"There's no need for any more specifics. I remember and that's what counts. You die here today freak! Now at least make it interesting and fight back. I enjoy a good challenge."

"Oh, look at you! Such a big man! Do you want to fight a little woman like me? Such a big man indeed!"

Margaret paused for a moment and studied Bjorn. Finally, she recognized him.

"Oh yes. I remember you. And I remember your parents too. You're just as dumb as you've always been aren't you?"

"The only dumb thing I did was let you live long enough to murder my parents."

"Murder? Wow you really are dense, aren't you? We killed your parents because they were trying to kill us! We offered them a chance to come quietly and they chose to fight us instead. It is not murder if they lost to us in battle. We were just better fighters, you see"

"They didn't go with you because you were puppets of the Thalmor! They were proud Nords who didn't bow down to tyranny! Of course, they wouldn't go quietly!"

"Or maybe they were enemies of the state, and we were bringing them to justice. Did you ever think of it that way? It depends what side you look at it from, silly boy."

"You kept their ears as souvenirs!"

"I always keep souvenirs from my battles little boy, just like a hunter who mounts a bear's head on his wall. Very few would take pride in killing a rabbit or a deer in the same way, because there's no challenge in that. But to kill someone or something after a long fight with them always feels worthy of a reward. Now, of course, I don't keep the ears as much these days, since I usually trade them for gold. But I always like to keep some sort of memorabilia with me."

"There is no honor in that."

"I'm sure you'd keep my teeth as a souvenir if you killed me or Zalam-dar's eyepatch or tail if you killed him. And why is that? Because you'd be proud! You would be avenging your family, I was protecting mine. We really are no different, you see.."

Bjorn looked perplexed, "your family?"

"My real family died during the siege of Markarth in Skyrim. I ran with the Forsworn for a while but soon decided it was a lost cause, I traveled tamriel, and eventually I fell in with a group of bandits working for Zalam-dar. It was here i met my dear Wulfmir and we fell in love. Zalam-dar was like a father figure to all of us in our bandit clan. He always told us we had the potential to be a part of something bigger, and we soon all became founding members of his movement: The Rising Dawn Syndicate."

"The Rising Dawn Syndicate?"

"Yes. The Rising Dawn Syndicate. But that life is behind me now.."

"And now you're 'Hagraven the Fearless', the famous bounty hunter," said Bjorn, mocking her.

"That's me," Margaret chuckled, "Even a woman like me needs to earn a living, you see. And my child, yes my child, I must take care of him too.."

"A..child?" Bjorn couldn't wrap his head around it: for years he saw this woman as a monster while someone else loved her as their mother.

"Yes, a child! You can hear, can't you? I didn't think I cut your ears off just yet."

"I feel pity for him, he has such a disgusting mother!"

"Easy there, Nord!" Margaret was about to reach for one of the throwing knives that were attached to her belt. Bjorn ignored that and kept railing at her.

"There are some who see you as a hero now, but you're not! I know what you really are!"

"Oh do you, silly boy? Typical. You think the world is full of saints and sinners and nothing in between. Are you really that naive? Most so-called heroes have had blood on their hands. Most so-called villains are other people's heroes."

As much as Bjorn despised this woman he had to know why she took part in what happened. He had to know, just to get some sort of closure before he killed her.

"My parents were good people. Why did they deserve to die?" He asked her.

"Oh come on I explained this before. We didn't plan to kill them, we planned to take them to the Thalmor Embassy in Skyrim to be tried for treason. They chose death instead. If you want to know why they chose to die, you'd have to ask them yourself, but I'm afraid they are too dead to talk."

"Why would you ever work for the Thalmor?"

"I wasn't working for the Thalmor, you silly boy. I was working for Zalam-dar. Do you think I ever cared about that stupid war? I was fighting for Zalam-dar because he wanted a future for people like me: children who were left cold and abandoned in the streets with no one to look out for them. He was looking out for us, or so I thought he was."

"So you were too blinded by his brainwashing to know he was working for the Thalmor and now you want me to feel pity for you? Sod you! You took everything from me! You and your wretched companions ruined everything for me!"

"No, I knew he was paid by the Thalmor, you stupid boy, but he was no supporter of them. Or the empire. He wanted it all to burn. He wanted the old world to die and for a new better world to be born from its ashes, hence the name of his movement: "The Rising Dawn Syndicate". "

"And why was he working for the Thalmor, if this was the case?"

"He worked for the Thalmor for two reasons: they paid well, and it helped him gain insight into their military tactics. The Dominion, whatever you want to say about them, has one of the best-trained and most powerful armies in all of Tamriel. He wanted to learn what made them so successful in their wars so he could be successful himself. He needed the money to build his army and some of the Thalmor he became acquainted with even converted to his cause. It was easy for some of them to leave one cult of fanaticism to join another."

"So I'm guessing he told you stories of a paradise for orphans and other misfits like you when he just wanted 'power' for himself."

"Yes. He wanted to get rid of all religion too and destroy all temples devoted to both Aedra and Daedra. 'The Gods already left us, it's time we left them' he'd tell us. Saying this out loud now, I can't believe I ever listened to that madman. But unfortunately, I wasn't the only one, and many still do."

"How could that vision of a future ever appeal to you?"

Margaret pondered Bjorn's question for a moment before she spoke, "I suppose at that point in my life I wanted to watch the world burn. I felt left behind. No one cared about me besides Zalam-dar, Wulfmir, and the other members of the Rising Dawn Syndicate. So I viewed it as a sort of revenge against everyone else that wasn't us. I was desperate to find anything that would give my life meaning. Luckily I've grown up since then."

"You said you've always taken souvenirs from battles because you were proud. How could you be proud of killing my parents? They were good people."

"Because I was protecting my lover and the man I saw as my father. "

"Your lover… the Nord?"

"Yes, my dear Wulfmir. We are still in love, him and I. He is the father of my child."

Bjorn was appalled by this but did not comment on it. He had other priorities.

".I know you won't tell me where Wulfmir is, but where is Zalam-dar?"

"I don't know and I don't care. Me and my dearest Wulfmir walked away from that Cat once we saw through his lies. We have no idea what he's doing now and we haven't seen him since.."

"You walked away from it, yet you feel no remorse for killing my parents."

"Why should I? Like I said I was protecting the people I cared about." Margaret's tone was slightly defensive as if she was justifying this to herself as much as to him. "And your parents were no innocent victims. There was a war. They chose a side. No one is innocent in a war. No one besides civilians that is. And your parents were no civilians even if they tried to be. They were fugitives for a reason!"

"To oblivion with that! My parents were honest people and they were in the right to resist the Dominion! They were standing up to evil! We had to flee our homeland because of the Thalmor and a weak and dying emp..."

"Oh sod off to your homeland!" Margaret cut him off "Do you know how many of my brethren died when the Nords forced my people out of the Reach? To Oblivion with you Nords and your honor."

"My parents had nothing to do with that."

Margaret guffawed, "of course not. Such perfect and noble parents you had," she said in a mocking tone, "That's what the world is to a simple-minded boy like you: Good and bad, right and wrong, black and white! There's no grey to you at all!"

Bjorn was getting impatient to kill this woman, " enough of this! My parents…."

"my parents…my parents" she imitated him and continued to laugh hysterically, "my parents were so sweet and innocent."

"That's it! You die now!"

Bjorn charged at Margaret and started swinging his sword at her. She dodged his attacks and scratched him across the face with her claws. It left a scar from under his right eye down to the lower right side of his chin.

Bjorn was bleeding and in pain but kept trying to hit her with his sword. Margaret continued to dodge his attacks, giggling as she did it.

Finally, Bjorn cut her right under her left shoulder. She cried out at first but then started to giggle again, "you silly boy! You'll pay for that!" She told him.
Margaret dodged Bjorn's next attack and then bit down on his right arm, which was his sword arm. Bjorn dropped his sword and cried out in pain as he started to bleed. She then threw a throwing knife at his left knee and he fell to the ground. Margaret stood over him looking down at him.

"I'd hate to leave you here to bleed out. That'd be cruel, even for a girl like me. I don't really want to kill you either, but I also can't heal you and let you live. Luckily I have a fourth option. I know these forests pretty well and I have a friend who can help me.."

Margaret whistled and in less than a minute a giant spider appeared beside her.

"I'll let my eight-legged friend finish the job. This was fun, silly boy."

"Any souvenirs you'll be taking from me?" Bjorn was trying to make a morbid joke and to show her that he had no fear of death but he failed at both.

"No, I take no pride in killing a fool. " Margaret kneeled beside him and started to stroke his face affectionately, "and I am not proud or happy about this. It actually saddens me that I can't just let you live. I can sense that you're a kindred spirit.."

Bjorn was dumbfounded. She was being sincere when she said that and he could tell. She was also talking in a calmer, more pleasant tone than before. It was as if she had become a totally different person in that moment.

"It's unfortunate things unfolded the way they did. I think you and I are very similar. We're more alike than you'd care to admit. "

"I'm nothing like you!" said Bjorn defensively.

"Keep telling yourself that," Margaret was now petting him on his crown as if he were a dog "I know what it's like to be forgotten and so do you. The world doesn't care about misfits like us. Anyway, it's been fun, but I know I can't let you live. If I did, then you'll never stop coming for me, Wulfmir, or my child. Oh tisk, tisk I'm afraid this is where we must part ways silly boy," she kissed him on the forehead and then turned to the spider, "okay buddy go get him!"

Margaret waved goodbye to Bjorn. She blew him another kiss and then wandered off. The spider shot a web onto Bjorn and then carried him to a nearby hole full of baby spiders. Bjorn was to be their meal for the next day. Perhaps he would bleed out after all. He wished Margaret had just killed him herself.

Very few things frightened Bjorn, but these spiders terrified him. He wasn't sure what was worse: bleeding to death or being eaten by baby spiders. It seemed like one or the other would be his fate, and a quick death wasn't an option for him.
"It'll all be over soon enough," he told himself, "then I will go to Sovngarde and see my parents again."

"Sovngarde is not ready for you yet, Bjorn. You still have much to do," his mother's voice called out to him. He looked to his right, and there she was, looking more alive than ever before. It did not feel like a dream, and he could see her as clear as day.

"Mother!" Bjorn couldn't hold back his tears.

"Yes, my dear son, it is I," Freya said.

Gunther stepped forward beside her, his presence as strong as ever. "I'm here too, Bjorn," he stated.

Bjorn's heart ached. He had missed them both so much. "Father… Mother… I…"

"You're not alone, Bjorn," Freya cried. "We are with you."

"I'm ready to go to Sovngarde! I want to see you both again!" Bjorn's voice cracked.

"Now is not your time, my child," Freya said. "There is a destiny before you. Those dreams you've had of that black dragon, they are not just dreams, they are something much more."

"What do they mean? What are they trying to say?" Bjorn asked.

"It will make sense in the years to come," Gunther stated. "But you still have much to do. Your vengeance cannot be your only guide. Take care of yourself, Bjorn. Live."

"But, Mom… Dad… I want to see you again… I want to join you both."

"We will meet again when the time is right," Freya said softly. "But that time is not now. You still have work to do. There are people who care about you."

Bjorn sobbed uncontrollably. "Please don't go! Please don't go, Mother! Father!" His heart shattered with each word.

"We have to go now, Bjorn," Freya whispered. "But remember, you are not alone. She will be there for you."

Gunther put a hand on Bjorn's shoulder. "Your path is yours alone to walk, but you are loved, always. She will help sway you from the darkness, and guide you towards the light. She will make sure you never lose yourself."

Bjorn looked where they were pointing and saw a young redguard woman dressed like an Alik'r warrior fighting off the spiders with her scimitars. She wore a long red cape, and a blue cowl and bandana that covered her face. Her eyes were all you could see yet it was enough to reveal her beauty.

Bjorn wasn't sure what was going on. He turned back to his parents, hoping to get some more answers but they had disappeared.

Bjorn watched in awe as the Redguard woman stabbed the spider in its giant eyes, striking a killing blow to it. "A true daughter of Hammerfell", he thought "where did she learn to fight like that?"

Now she was fighting the smaller spiders, which seemed to be more of a challenge. She killed them off one by one: sometimes stabbing them, sometimes stomping on them and other times a combination of both. Eventually they were gone.

The Redguard woman walked over to Bjorn and took off her cowl and bandana.

"It's been a long time Bjorn. I don't see how you survived all this time without me."

Bjorn couldn't believe his eyes: It was Amirah! He could now see her long black locks, her straight-bridged nose, and that playful smirk she always had on her face. She looked more stunning than ever. She had grown into an elegant and strong young woman.

"Amirah! What are you doing here? Why haven't I heard from you in all this time?"

"I thought you were dead," tears started to run down her cheeks, "I heard what happened to your parents and I was devastated. They were like family to me too,"

"Amirah, I….I…" Bjorn had so many things he wanted to say but nothing came out.

"I wish you had contacted me. I had to find out you were alive from your friend Kurdan instead. And your other Orc friend led me to this shrine."

"Amirah, I can't even describe how happy I am to see you. I'm just confused. What led you to Kurdan? What were you doing back here after all this time?"

"It's a long story, Bjorn. For now, we need to get you to a healer. I'll explain more once I know you're ok. I don't want to lose you."

"You won't, Amirah," he reached up and slowly wiped the tears off her face with his hand, "You'll never lose me."