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Dovah Queen, Dragonborn Rising (Game of Thrones x Skyrim)

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Dark as Silver said:
RIP Oblivion spell creation.
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No, actually the opposite. I just confirmed that spell creation still exists, it has just fallen out of favor. I also implied that the magicka cost would be higher than from Oblivion, but the whole spell creation thing still exists and is part of magical theory. So, someone could create a customize spell or cast Summon Skeleton. It's just that the current trend in magic is to focus on certain 'optimum' spells that form the Skyrim spellbook selection.
 
Dark as Silver said:
For anyone who doesn't know, there used to be a Redguard martial art where when you could get so good at swording that you could create a sword out of your soul.

Probably the most anime thing in Elder Scrolls.
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The most anime part of that is the Pankratosword technique, where you use your soul-sword to cut the 'atomos' or the most fundamental, indivisible building blocks of the Aurbis (which, despite the name, are not atoms). This creates an explosion large enough to be measured in megatons of TNT equivalent, and may have been what sunk Yokuda by literally blasting it beneath the waves.
Yes that is right, indivisible, the Pankratosword involves cutting the uncuttable and blowing everything the fuck up. You literally sword reality so hard that it explodes. Can't get much more anime than that.
 
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Harper Potts said:
No, actually the opposite. I just confirmed that spell creation still exists, it has just fallen out of favor. I also implied that the magicka cost would be higher than from Oblivion, but the whole spell creation thing still exists and is part of magical theory. So, someone could create a customize spell or cast Summon Skeleton. It's just that the current trend in magic is to focus on certain 'optimum' spells that form the Skyrim spellbook selection.
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So basically
"I COULD create my own spell, OR i could use a spell thats already created and is easier to use"
 
Harper Potts said:
No, actually the opposite. I just confirmed that spell creation still exists, it has just fallen out of favor. I also implied that the magicka cost would be higher than from Oblivion, but the whole spell creation thing still exists and is part of magical theory. So, someone could create a customize spell or cast Summon Skeleton. It's just that the current trend in magic is to focus on certain 'optimum' spells that form the Skyrim spellbook selection.
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Oh I was just pointing out the reference to the game mechanics.
 
Really enjoying this story so far. Good characterization, and you have de-gamified the setting to a satisfying degree.
 
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Chapter 13
  • Threadmarks
    • Chapter 13
    Sundas, the 30th of Sun's Dusk, Year 201 of the 4th Era​

    Once they left the shelter of the College walls, they were exposed to the weather. A cold wet wind blew from the Sea of Ghost. It brought rain, a little bit of sleet, and occasional flurries of snow. Daenerys wore the furs that Aranea had enchanted for warmth, and she had her cloak bundled up tight around her face against the rain, yet winter's chill still soaked through. She already regretted her decision to come along. This was not what she had in mind when she had imagined visiting Winterhold with her friends. However, she had already promised Brelyna that she would come, and there were no classes or open practice on Sundas. If she turned back, she could only study theory, and she was sick of theory.

    "So, what is there to do in Winterhold?" asked Daenerys once they crossed the bridge and entered the town.

    "The Frozen Hearth has good mead," suggested Onmund. "And one of the tavern wenches is pretty cute."

    "J'zargo cares little for the mead, save that it makes Nords foolish with their wagers when they gamble. J'zargo likes this idea."

    Brelyna sighed. "Saturnalia will be here soon. Did we not agree that we would look at what is for sale at Brina's Oddments first?"

    Onmund shrugged. He wasn't even wearing a cloak, and his hair was slick from the rain, but he didn't seem bothered by the weather in the least. "I find a drinking a bit of mead makes shopping a much more enjoyable pastime."

    "Far be it you wait to start drinking," scoffed Brelyna with a teasing undertone. "I'm not your mother. I won't pick out gifts for you, and the prices will only go up the closer it gets to Saturnalia."

    "J'zargo will come with the beautiful ladies." Despite having a fur coat, he at least looked properly miserable in the weather. "Perhaps Brina will have the moon sugar."

    Onmund sighed. "Fine, let's get this over with."

    Brina's Oddments proved to be an all-purpose store along the lines of the Riverwood Trader. It was most notable for a collection of horker tusks and scrimshaw carvings. The proprietress, Brina, was a young Nord who tried to project a casual attitude. However, it was clear that she was eager to have customers.

    Onmund was just as eager to buy. He walked up to the candy section, scooped out some of the cheaper candies, and paid. "Well, that was thirsty work. Off to quench that thirst with some mead. Have fun shopping ladies."

    Daenerys tagged along beside Brelyna. She pointed out different possibilities for her charges. Candies were acceptable, but Daenerys decided to spend a little bit more on something that would last longer than the day. She selected some hair ribbons for Matilda and Enja since they both obsessed over their appearance. She picked out a brush for Tailour for her long dark curly hair. For Sofija she got a whetstone, so she could sharpen all the 'hidden' knives she carried. She decided on paper and ink for J'zargo and Onmund; simple and practical. She also picked up some of the scented soap that Brelyna hinted at. All in all, shopping had been easier than she expected and cheaper than she had feared. Although, paper and ink seemed rather impersonal. She decided to look around to see if anything else caught her eye while Brelyna made her own purchases.

    Meanwhile, J'zargo wasn't willing to take no for an answer. "If the pretty lady does not have the moon sugar, can the pretty lady at least place an order for J'zargo?"

    "No," explained the shopkeeper. "It's winter. Win-ter. Nobody comes. Nobody goes. Not in this weather. What you see is what you get until spring. Well, unless you want scrimshaw, fish, or furs."

    Perhaps some fancier quills? Daenerys drifted over into the scrimshaw. Most of the ivory carvings were more than she wished to spend, but there were some smaller pieces as well. Would J'zargo like a tiny ivory carving of a saber cat? Or would that be offensive? Would a bear do for Onmund? Maybe she should stick with the ink? Her funds were limited. Then she saw the claw.

    ​

    It had the exact same shape as the golden claw that had been stolen from the Riverwood Trader. This claw was coral in color and had different symbols: snake, wolf, and moth. Daenerys had no doubt that it was the key to a Nord barrow, the kind of key that opened the door to the final chamber. She turned the claw over in her hands a few times. Casually she asked, "What is this? It's obviously not scrimshaw."

    Brina had just finished wrapping up Brelyna's purchases into a parcel. She glanced over to see what Daenerys was holding. "Oh that? That was a stupid mistake. I shouldn't have believed the story and just refused the trade. But I didn't, and now I'm stuck with some worthless junk."

    J'zargo's ears pricked up, literally. "Oh, a story. J'zargo likes stories. What is this one?"

    "Just an old Nord who told me this claw thing was the key to a treasure Yngol Barrow. He said it would be worth more than its weight in gold if I took it back there. Something about placing it back in Yngol's chamber." She sighed. "I don't know. What was I thinking? Even if it were true, I'm not setting foot in some ancient tomb, filled with who knows what."

    "Filled with draugr and traps and death, but also shiny treasures, or so J'zargo has heard. It is not moon sugar, but what does the pretty lady want for the claw?"

    "You want it? Fine. I'll sell you the thing for 50 gold."

    J'zargo shook his head. "No, that is too much for J'zargo, he is but a poor and struggling student."

    Daenerys knew an opportunity when she saw one. "I'll give you 20 septims for it."

    Brina frowned and walked around her counter. "I paid more than that. 40 septims."

    Daenerys scoffed. "I am also a student. Do I look like I can afford 40 septims? I'll give you 25."

    "Actually," Brina looked her over. "You look you can afford quite a bit more than most around here. 35."

    She wasn't sure what Brina meant by that. Her furs were enchanted, but they were worn and the bloodstains had never come out. The only thing fancy about her was her hair. "30 septims – if you can tell me where Yngol Barrow lies."

    "Done. Yngol Barrow is east of Windhelm overlooking the south bank of the White River."

    As Daenerys went to pay, she realized she had just dropped 30 septims on a claw in front of her friends. If she gave them the gifts she initially selected, they would think she was cheap. With a sigh she purchased the two ivory miniatures for the boys and bought a much larger bar of the scented soap that Brelyna favored. It was obvious that the shopkeepers were the ones really behind this gift-giving holiday, or perhaps the trader god, Zenithar. Thankfully, no one asked about the claw until they left the shop.

    "I can't believe you bought that thing," said Brelyna. "It's probably a fake."

    "No, I've seen another claw just like this one. This is the key to a Nord puzzle lock. It's worth a good bit more than thirty septims."

    "And what are you planning to do with it? You're not seriously thinking of trying to explore a Nord tomb? Those places are death traps."

    Daenerys shrugged. "It wouldn't be the first barrow that I have explored. They're survivable if you have the right companions." Although in her vague plans to explore Nord barrows in search of word walls, she had overlooked the puzzle locks.

    J'zargo made an interested rumble. "J'zargo has heard they are full of treasure, but he agrees with the pretty dark lady. There is much danger there. Not that J'zargo is afraid of danger. Perhaps, someday… J'zargo will soon have mastered every spell, and he likes shiny coins and treasures."

    Daenerys nodded in agreement. "Yes, perhaps someday. I'm planning to stay until I make Adept at least." Although Faralda's research might change that. "Besides it's Sun's Dusk. Leaving Winterhold before spring would be very foolish." She wasn't in a hurry. Finding the claw had simply been too great an opportunity to pass up. Although J'zargo sounded more than casually interested. While the khajiit bragged a lot, he also seemed to have a gift for magic.

    The three of them hurried into the Frozen Hearth to get out of the weather. Brelyna ordered mulled wine and Daenerys joined her. The spiced and heated wine was just the thing to shake off the cold weather. Onmund was already on his second cup and singing loudly. The inn was busier than she expected, but it was the only tavern in the town. J'zargo had found a game of tiles and immediately joined in. For a while Daenerys just relaxed and chatted with Brelyna.

    Then she overheard an Altmer in college robes talking to the innkeeper about some kind of experiment. She nudged Brelyna. "Is that one of the adepts or experts? I don't think I've seen him around the College, but he looks too old to be an apprentice."

    Brelyna looked over at him. "Oh, he's not with the College. At least not any longer. That's Nelacar. You haven't heard about him yet? It was quite the scandal."

    "No, I haven't heard anything about this. I'm new here, remember. What scandal?"

    "This was… four months ago, before you arrived. Malyn Varen, Nelacar, Frina Livia, and some others somehow managed to get their hands on a Daedric artifact – Azura's Star." Brelyna paused to sip her wine.

    Daenerys had all but forgotten Azura's Star in favor of studying magic and her secret research with Faralda. Now it dropped into her lap. She listened raptly while keeping an eye on Nelacar.

    "They started doing experiments, and they got pretty dark," continued Brelyna. "An apprentice died. Accident the College claims, but some claim she was sacrificed. Malyn Varen fled along with quite a few others. Nelacar stayed behind. He tried to claim that he wasn't involved in the darker practices, but the Archmage threw him out anyway. They say Master Wizard Phinis turned them all in. That's how he got the post of Master of Conjuration."

    "That's interesting." So, Aranea's vision had proved accurate yet again. An elven mage who studies the stars. Nelacar was the key to finding Azura's star. "Do you know why Nelacar is still here then? And what happened to Malyn Varen?"

    Brelyna shrugged. "Not a clue. I would guess Nelacar is wealthy enough that he can afford to rent a room here on a permanent basis. Maybe he just has nowhere else to go? I haven't even heard rumors of where Malyn Varen fled to. We're a little cut-off from the local gossip in the College."

    Before Daenerys could ask any more questions an angry Nord woman suddenly started pointing at her and yelling. "Thaat's herr! Thaat's the drraagon wisch! Shitting there like a shkeever in our miss."

    Now that the woman was yelling at her, Daenerys belatedly recognized her as one of the people that had paid to ride in the wagonmaster's cart. Her name was Bigga… no Vigga. She had dirty blonde hair tied up in severe braids. Her clothes had once been expensive, but now were well-worn and stained. She had obviously been well-off because she wasn't merely stout the way some Nord women were, but actually plump. She was obviously also drunk. Unfortunately, Vigga had caught everyone's attention with her yelling.

    Daenerys stood up. So much for those ridiculous rumors having died out. The woman was larger than her, but she had faced much worse than a fat middle-aged drunken woman. She was also aware that this wasn't just about the two of them. This scene was unfolding in front of an audience. Which might work to her advantage. "Please. You are the one screeching like a skeever. I'm a paying customer sitting here enjoying my wine and conversation. Take your leave."

    Vigga faltered, but she didn't back down. Apparently, she didn't care if she caused a scene. "You'rre a wisch! You cahled down that drragon that killed my husband!"

    Daenerys had seen challenges like this happen at the Sleeping Giant inn, but only between Nord men. They had all escalated to fistfights. Usually, that ended with one of the men laying on the floor unable to continue, but she had also seen it end with the two men hugging each other like long lost brothers. She'd never seen a fistfight involving Nord women, but it sure felt like that was where this was heading. The onlookers seemed to have the same eager anticipation rather than the angry outrage of a lynch mob. Onmund had stood up and was looking upset. J'zargo seemed to be placing bets.

    "I'm sorry for your loss, but I am a mere novitiate at the College of Winterhold. I don't have that kind of power. Now, if you don't mind, I would like to finish my wine in peace." Deliberately she turned her back on the woman. It was a calculated insult and risk. While Nords didn't approve of cowardly attacks in general, many fistfights started with a sucker punch. If Vigga did attack from behind, she would get the first strike, but Daenerys could survive a punch for the moral high ground.

    "Donsch you turrn youhr back on mee! Cowhard! Figh me."

    Daenerys continued to ignore the outraged Nord. She even shook her head at Brelyna who seemed about to take action. She tried to listen behind her and anticipate the blow she expected to come, but the tavern was noisy. Her only warning was a brief widening of Brelyna's eyes before the blow smashed into the back of her head. Her skull exploded in pain and her face smashed down to the table. Daenerys shook her head as she rose and faced the Nord woman. "Coward. If this is the way it has to be, so be it."

    Daenerys raised her fists. While she had no skill at fistfighting or great strength, her opponent wasn't a fighter either. Vigga was older, taller, probably stronger, but also plump and most importantly so drunk that her words were slurring. Daenerys didn't see herself losing this fight.

    "Wisch! Wisch! Wisch!" screeched Vigga as she came in fists flailing.

    Daenerys circled to the left and sidestepped Vigga's charge. It was almost too easy. Instead of punching, she pushed Vigga as she passed. Vigga stumbled and crashed into a table, knocking over drinks and causing curses among the trio of Nords sitting there. Her opponent was stronger, but slower and even more drunk than she thought.

    Vigga turned back around and charged again. "Wisch! Muhrdehrah! Shtand sstill and figh."

    Daenerys stepped aside again, easily ducking under Vigga's flailing fists. This time she got some punches in, but Vigga's flab was apparently good for soaking blows. She probably hurt her fists more than Vigga.

    A circle of spectators had closed around them cheering and screaming. Some of them helped Vigga get oriented to make another charge. Daenerys readied herself. Really, this was sad. She didn't want to fight, but there was no way to back out of this without losing face. Vigga came back swinging. Daenerys ducked beneath the woman's flailing fists and punched up at her paunch of a belly. It felt like punching a pillow. Vigga let out a woof of air and doubled over. Daenerys seized Vigga by the hair with her left hand. She tightened her fist and repeatedly punched Vigga in the face. She felt something crunch and blood flew from Vigga's nose. The angry Nord bellowed in pain, turned suddenly, and tackled, or more accurately belly-flopped, Daenerys to the floor.

    Daenerys found herself crushed beneath the larger woman. Vigga ranted as she tried to pin Daenerys down. Meanwhile, she struggled to get free as best she could, turning, twisting, grabbing, and trying to avoid getting caught in a hold. In her wild scrambling, she caught her hand in Vigga's clothing and pulled. There was a sudden ripping sound. Vigga screamed and rolled away trying cover herself up as an old saggy breast flopped out for everyone to see. Not that it was a sight that Daenerys particularly wanted to see.

    The crowd roared with laughter. "I think the little one fights a like a man!" yelled one. "Not much to look at, but a good handful at least." "Size isn't everything." "Keep telling yerself that, Rafa."

    Daenerys used the time to catch her breath. She had underestimated Vigga's weight, but she was still confident. "Are you done? I'd like to just get back to my wine."

    Vigga had other ideas. She pulled a knife out of a sheath on her belt. "Bisch! Die!"

    "Enough!" Daenerys called Flames and jetted fire several inches from her hands, but deliberately kept it controlled and not an attack. "You are a coward and a drunk. You start rumors and whispers rather than confront me. You attacked me from behind. Now you bring a weapon to a fistfight. Come at me with that knife in hand and I will burn you down where you stand. I did not kill your husband. I don't control dragons. Leave me be and go sleep it off."

    Silence fell upon the crowd. It was the innkeeper that broke it. "She is right, Vigga. If you want to duel to the death, take it outside, not in my tavern."

    "No," came a new voice standing just inside the doorway to the inn. The man who spoke was wearing a fur cloak and heavy armor. He also had a shield bearing the symbol of a three-pointed crown which stood for Winterhold. He had a companion dressed just like it at his side. "There will be no duels to the death. Stand down both of you. Vigga, get yourself a room and sleep it off. As for you," he pointed at Daenerys. "Jarl Korir would like a word with you."

    .oOo.​

    Daenerys was not thrilled to be hauled in front of another jarl. While Jarl Balgruuf hadn't been that bad, he hadn't been that good either. Balgruuf had all but commanded her to join the expedition to Bleak Falls Barrow, and that could have easily gotten her killed. It had worked out in the end for her, but she wasn't sure what Jarl Korir would want from her. That the jarl's guards had insisted she come alone and separated her from her friends didn't bode well.

    The jarl's longhouse was the largest building in Winterhold, but that wasn't saying much. If she judged Winterhold by its population, it was huge, easily twice the size of the inn. However, compared to Dragonsreach or the College of Winterhold, it was nothing. Just a two-story log building with a thatch roof. Two fire pits warmed the room, but there were no tables for food. By Nord tradition a longhouse should be more than a throne room. It should be a place where the Jarl held feasts for his favored housecarls, thanes, warriors and attendants. Was the jarl too poor to provide feasts for his men, or did he simply not follow that tradition?

    ​

    One of the guards kept a watch over her while the other reported to their jarl. The man she saw sitting on the throne didn't impress her either. Jarl Korir was a red-haired man in the prime of his life. His clothes were finely made, his hair neatly trimmed, and he wore a gold crown with a large red gem in center of it. He had the build of a warrior that had let himself go to seed. A blonde woman stood near him. She was pretty in an austere way. She wore what looked like a leather dress over a cloth dress. It might serve as armor, but it had large openings that left the underdress visible. That greatly weakened the protection the leather offered. On the other hand, the woman was wearing either a shortsword and was standing beside the jarl, so perhaps she was a trusted housecarl.

    Eventually, the guard came back and both guards escorted her the short distance to the jarl's throne. "My Jarl, this is Daenerys Targaryen, a novitiate at the College, and the one called the Dragon Witch."

    Daenerys gave a curtsey out of respect for the man's position and the power he held over her. Then she rose quietly and waited to see what the jarl wanted from her.

    "So, I hear you threatened to burn widow Vigga with your magic. We don't appreciate your kind making threats in Winterhold."

    "What kind?" asked Daenerys.

    "Mages. You have blood on your hands already just joining them. There's nothing left of Winterhold. Nothing! Everyone knows it's the College's fault that the sea swallowed our city. You deny it, but we all know the truth."

    She had heard the people of Winterhold and their jarl were prejudiced against the College, but this was more extreme than she expected. "I'm sorry, but I wasn't even born then. It was what? Almost eighty years ago?"

    "Seventy-nine, but it still matters! Most of the city just dropping off into the sea. That doesn't just happen."

    Given that Jarl Korir looked to be in his thirties, that was well before he was born. It had to have been his father's or grandfather's reign. Daenerys couldn't help but think the man would be better served tending to his hold and building it up. Instead of actually doing something, he blamed a disaster two generations ago. Did he really expect her to be able to explain the Great Collapse? "Regardless of the cause, I certainly know nothing about it. Is that why I've been called before you?"

    "Mind your tongue, mage. I'm the jarl of this hold and you will treat me with respect."

    Daenerys did as bid and held her tongue. She was not at all impressed a ruler who blamed others instead of tending to their people, but her saying so would only make things worse.

    "Ha, look at that Thaena, a mage that knows how to mind her tongue."

    The blonde woman smiled. "It certainly is a novelty."

    Jarl Korir pointed a finger at Daenerys. "Mage, you've been called here before me on account of two things. First, you threatened to kill Widow Vigga. Second, you have been summoning dragons to kill people and ravage caravans."

    Daenerys felt outraged at that accusation. He didn't even crouch it as a rumor. Did he really believe she could summon dragons? If he did, then he was a fool to threaten her like this. He stared at her like he expected an answer, but he hadn't asked a question, and he had just commanded her to hold her tongue. So, she kept her mouth closed and her eyes down. She didn't want him to see the anger in them.

    "Well, speak up!"

    "As to the first matter, I was sitting in the Frozen Hearth enjoying a glass of wine when Vigga came up." She kept her words slow, calm and measured. "She started yelling at me, and then she attacked me from behind. She came at me with fists, and I defended with mine. Then she picked up a dagger. That's when I warned her to back off."

    "You mean that's when you threatened to burn her where she stood."

    "She came at me with a knife in hand, and yet I still showed restraint. I could have lit her on fire easily. Instead, I just made a small blaze of fire and warned her off."

    "Seems to me that Vigga had just cause. You were also waving around flames in the Frozen Hearth. Maybe it has escaped your notice, but that tavern is made of wood."

    "I had the fire under control, Jarl Korir." While being inside a wooden building had played a part in her not casting Flames, Daenerys had also simply not wanted to kill a drunken widow. Even if the confrontation had happened outside, she wouldn't have just set the woman on fire.

    "Feh, I have heard that before from mages. You play with forces you don't understand, but always say you have it under control. Then when it inevitably goes wrong you claim not to be responsible, because it was an accident. Like dead men and shattered lives can just be put back together. Tell me, mage, can your magic give Vigga back her husband?"

    "No, Jarl Korir, it cannot. No magic can raise the dead." At least not here in Tamriel. Back on Planetos, the Red Temple did exactly that, but only when it suited their goals.

    "That's right. Dead is dead. Now, how many good men and women did your dragon kill when it attacked that caravan?"

    "It wasn't my dragon, I had no control over it, and I have no idea how many people died. We all scattered to try to escape."

    "Yes, just like a mage to summon something you couldn't control. I'll tell you how many people died. Twenty-seven died. Twenty-seven men, women, and children. What do you have to say about that?"

    "I'm sorry for their loss, but it wasn't any of my doing. I am but a novitiate at the College. I don't have that kind of power. I don't think any mage can summon or control dragons."

    "You're sorry for their loss," chanted the jarl in a childish sing-song. "Your caravan just happened to be attacked by not one, but two dragons, and you knew a suspicious amount about them, but oh, no, it's not your fault."

    Daenerys started to deny things further, but it was clear that her words were not being heard. She held her tongue and was thankful that rumor hadn't also tied her to the dragon attack at Helgen.

    "Funny, how you mages know so much, but never have anything to say about what is important. Tell me about your lover, Sagyval. I would very much like to have a word with him."

    What? "Sagyval and I were never lovers. He flirted with me some, that's all. I was surprised he made a profit. He lost everything on his wagon."

    "You were surprised, but you're not, so you've been in communication with him, eh. Where is he? I'd love to have a few words with him."

    "I don't know." While that much was true, she was very glad she'd left the letter at the college and hadn't mentioned Sagyval to anyone but Brelyna. "I haven't seen him since the day of the dragon attack. I've been studying magic at the College since then."

    "You don't know? Eight men rode out with him. Sagyval came back with only two, sold a cartload of goods, and then disappeared before my men caught wind of what happened. I sent out a patrol and they found the remains of the caravan picked clean. What happened to the four men who rode out with him? What happened to all the supplies?"

    "I don't know." But, it was clear that Sagyval had lied to her.

    The blonde woman, Thaena, reached out and seized the Jarl's arm. "You know what I think, my husband? I think she called down the dragons to kill everyone, then sent her lover to pick over the bones. Listen to her. It's the same as always with mages. It's never their fault. They just don't know what happened. It's a mystery how the city was destroyed and yet the College remained. A dragon attacked, yet she and her lover survived when so many died, oh what a tragic coincidence. My dear, we need to put her to the question."

    Daenerys kept her back straight and head bowed although it got difficult when the pretty blonde started talking about torture. She dared not show anger. She had no idea what Sagyval had been hiding, but he had dumped her into a mess. She was no longer the Dragon Queen with Drogon at her beck and call. She wasn't without hope. Her friends had seen her taken. The College wouldn't stand for Winterhold to start kidnapping students in the streets. At least she hoped they wouldn't. She held onto hope and her temper.

    Jarl Korir drummed his fingers on the arm of his throne. "No, putting her to the question is a bit much, not without at least some proof. However, it is high past time we start holding the damned mages accountable. They live in my hold! They can't just strut around my city as if they own it. They cannot threaten the good people of my hold with magic. She's guilty of that much at least, even if we can't prove that she called the dragons."

    He stood up. "Guards! Throw her in the Chill!"
     
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    • Ah, stubborn Nord stupidity combined with a good dose of (manipulated?) incompetence...I have a feeling someone's going to pull a Dresden (things on fire; not "my" fault).

    And I seem unable to remember anything about quests in Winterhold apart from the College stuff - I'll have to check the wiki.
     
    Harper Potts said:
    You really do find the Coral Dragon Claw on sale in Brina's Oddments. That wasn't my invention.
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    Yes unless you enter Yngol without having started that dialog, then its just on a stand in the barrow.
    And I said it escalated quickly not unbelievably, Korrir is an ass.

    E: Oh and as far as quests in Winterhold go, theres also a radiant quest to get the helm of Winterhold which is the pre-req to become a thane and another quest to steal a staff for the steward.
     
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    IIRC a number of the non-main-plot Dragon Claws move around to a more convenient location if you miss them, one of Skyrim's many anti-backtracking features.
     
    Huh why is Dany acting blur? Just tell him that she's the Dragonborn. That's how the player gets special treatment and that's how she can get special treatment too.
     
    Brainarius said:
    Huh why is Dany acting blur? Just tell him that she's the Dragonborn. That's how the player gets special treatment and that's how she can get special treatment too.
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    Because Dany doesn't know she's Dragonborn really. She knows that one priestess saw a vision in which she described herself like that, but thats different from understanding the cultural significance of being a Dragonborn or having a good way to persuade others that its true.
    She could shout, but she doesn't want to give that secret away and considering how Korir has been behaving it might just get blown off as her faking it with magic. Or just refusing to give special treatment because he already dislikes her. And would tying herself to Dragons be a good situation when the accusations against her are: "This woman summons Dragons"?

    Dany's not in the Chill until the update gets written until then its possible that the next update will start with her pulling that out as her trump card. Because its possible that getting thrown in jail was the moment that the cost benefit of not saying you're dragonborn vs saying your dragonborn flipped.
     
    @Harper:I wasn't referring to the claw specifically - I remember buying one somewhere and never visiting its dungeon. It was just a "umm what was there to do again?" .

    Brainarius said:
    That's how the player gets special treatment and that's how she can get special treatment too.
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    I don't have the impression this Dany _wants_ special treatment...with her backstory, which would cause uncomfortable questions.
     
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    Dark as Silver said:
    Dany's not in the Chill until the update gets written until then its possible that the next update will start with her pulling that out as her trump card. Because its possible that getting thrown in jail was the moment that the cost benefit of not saying you're dragonborn vs saying your dragonborn flipped.
    Click to expand...
    Click to shrink...

    "In the next update, a dragon attacks the town and Dany gets a soul"?
     
    It's a good thing she isn't the player character otherwise everyone in that pissant little town would be dead. She really has the patience of a saint.
     
    Chapter 14
  • Threadmarks
    • Chapter 14
    Sundas, the 30th of Sun's Dusk, Year 201 of the 4th Era​

    Jarl Korir stood up. "Guards! Throw her in the Chill!"

    Daenerys stood close enough to him that she could kill him easily. Step forward, say one Word, and he would die… Then his guards would stab her in the back. She couldn't fight an entire hold, so she didn't try. This wasn't the time or place to fight. So, she bided her time and offered no resistance when the same two guards who brought her before Jarl Korir escorted her away. Outside a small crowd of onlookers had gathered around. Her friends were there, but she didn't have time to do more than shoot a pleading glance their way as she was led away.

    The crowd was hostile by the snatches of conversation she heard.

    "So, she was the Dragon Witch after all then?"

    "About time one of those mages got what was coming to them."

    "Fool! Three of them are standing right there."

    "I don't know. Vigga started it. She just defended herself."

    "With fire!"

    "Look out!"

    Daenerys turned to look about, but one of the guards had her by the arm forcing her to keep moving forward. She saw a few kids running along with snowballs, or more like slushballs, considering the weather was still a mix of rain, sleet, and ice. Several of them missed her, but one flew true and hit her in the side.

    However, another hit the guard beside her. "Hey, you brats. You want to join her in the Chill?"

    The words 'the Chill,' roused the crowd up. One of them started a chant, which others picked up. "Put her in the Chill. Put her in the Chill. Put her in the Chill." The words followed after them as the guards led her out of town.

    At her best guess, the Chill was this town's jail. Although she had never heard of it before. Not at all where she wanted to be going, but she didn't have a choice, or at least not any good choices. One quick step to the side and she could catch both guards in Yol and kill them. That would make her an outlaw. If she could just make a break for it and run for the College, she was almost certain the College wouldn't turn her over. However, if she killed two of the Whitehold guards, they would probably hand her over to face the Jarl's justice.

    She was sorely tempted when then guards led her north toward the College. It would be so easy. Shout Yol and then run for it. However, the two guards were being particularly watchful as they passed by the College. Besides these guards were just doing their duty. She had no real desire to kill them in cold blood. No, her best bet was to be patient. The College would most likely apply pressure on Jarl Korir to have her released. She just had to endure the hardship of a few days of imprisonment in the Chill.

    Once they were past the bridge the path started to drop down rapidly. There were clear signs that this trail was in regular use. There were even guard rails in places, but it wasn't an easy descent. Eventually, the winding path reached the sea below Winterhold. Somewhere down here was the fishing village. Although she didn't see anything but rocks and cliffs. Looking back up when she reached the bottom it was even more obvious how remarkable it was that the College of Winterhold had survived the Great Collapse. It stood on a pillar of stone barely wider than the College. She could see just how unsupported the bridge actually was, and yet it still stood. Obviously magic had protected the College. She wondered if they had cast spells during the Great Collapse to stabilize the college, or if it was still protected by being built upon a foundation of magic laid down by Arch-Mage Shalidor back in the First era.

    ​

    The guards led her around the narrow rocky beach that surrounded the mount upon which Winterhold perched. There were signs of foot traffic through here. However, this beach was certainly underwater during storms, and possible during high tide as well. They circled around to the north shore 'behind' the College. A shallow stretch of sea clogged with floating ice separated the College island from another larger island that didn't rise very far above sea level. This was the fishing village she had heard tell of. There were no docks. Longships and rowboats were merely beached well above the driftwood and moored tight. The whole island looked weatherbeaten. Here dwelled the fishermen and horker hunters of Winterhold, proud but poor.

    Her guards marched her right into the narrow channel. She gasped as the freezing water sent pins and needles up her legs immediately. The water only reached their thighs, but it came up to her waist. They walked on up the other side, seemingly unconcerned while she could barely feel her legs and stumbled along after up onto the island. Hardscrabble homes nestled up against the rocks. They were built of rock and shattered masonry. Their thatched roofs looked wrong, piled too high and sloughing off the edges, almost like some sort fungus growing on the houses. It wasn't until they passed close to one that she realized that it was thatched with seaweed instead of good straw. There were people about. They scowled at the intruders with sullen and distrustful faces. Others closed their shutters or pointedly ignored the presence of outsiders on their land.

    The feeling in her feet was starting to return when they suddenly stopped before a house that looked much like any other in this miserable village. Perhaps a little bit larger. The guard who seemed to be in charge stepped up and banged on the door. Dogs started barking. Big ones from the sound of it. The guard who knocked hastily retreated backwards. "Hail the house. Warden Naudgari? It's Stefan. I've come on the orders of Jarl Korir. I've got a prisoner for the Chill."

    The dogs continued barking for a while and then a window opened a bit, not far enough for her to see inside. "You say you're Stefan. Show me your face. And who's that with you?"

    "Paranoid old fart," muttered the one who had named himself Stefan. He removed his helmet and revealed a middle-aged man with dirty blonde hair to match the beard she'd already glimpsed. "That good enough? This here is my son."

    "He needs to take his helmet off, too."

    The guard holding her briefly let go and theatrically doffed his helmet. "Behold, it is I, Jaako!" He was a good bit younger, barely more than a lad, but he already had a full beard and there was a bit of a family resemblance to Stefan. Daenerys considered running since she was technically free, but she didn't exactly have anywhere to run to. She was on an island. Wading back through that channel would slow her down enough that they could easily catch her.

    "Good enough," called the gruff voice. A gray-haired man with a matted beard came out. His skin was wrinkled and worn like old leather. He had a cocked crossbow in his hands. Two dark gray dogs came out with him. They were large and both rumbled with low warning growls, but they held their place. "Stefan, you fool. Have you forgotten everything I taught you? Why isn't she bound? You aren't even holding her."

    Stefan glanced over and saw she was just standing there. He slapped Jaako across the head. "Damn it, Jaako."

    "Da!" he complained dodging away.

    The old man laughed. In any other circumstances, Daenerys might have found it humorous as well. Out in the cold, still soaking wet, and heading toward a place called the Chill she didn't find it amusing.

    "You blame your boy, but you should know better," scolded Naudgari.

    "I had reasons, Warden, and she's been well-behaved," said Stefan. He pointed a finger at her. "Don't make a liar out of me. I didn't have any rope, and we were drawing an ugly crowd. I also knew you would have manacles."

    "Yeah, I got some. She's a pretty one." He looked at her like men like at whores, sizing her up. "I rather like the feisty ones. Stay here, while I go get some."

    Daenerys cleared her throat. "That's not necessary. Let me be and I'll come along quietly. I think we all know that this won't last that long once the College gets involved." If they thought her meek and left her unbound, all the better.

    "She's a god's damned mage?!" screamed the old man. "Stefan, have you lost all sense? She should be manacled tight with her hands behind her back."

    "She-" stared Stefan. Then he sighed. "You're right. Turn around mage and put your hands behind you."

    Daenerys frowned. Open with Yol and she could take both the guards. Then the old man would shoot her with the crossbow and the two dogs would tear her apart. She stared at Stefan. She had commanded Dothraki. He didn't scare her. "I will not forget this, Stefan of Winterhold."

    They bound her in manacles and then started loading a boat with supplies from the old man's place. From what she could gather from their conversation, the old man was in charge of all prisoners and the Chill was on an island not too far north from here. For a while Daenerys simply glared at them. She didn't like the way the old man looked at her, and the other two seemed shiftier now. However, glaring at them didn't accomplish anything. After a short while she decided she might as well put the anger inside her to use. She was sitting on the cold beach up against the house where they couldn't see her hands. She wasn't going anywhere. She might as well practice Frost. As cold as it was out here, they'd never notice her hands getting a tiny bit colder.

    She started by gathered her Will. She knew how to touch the power of magic all around her. She gathered in her magicka, concentrated it, prepared it. She defined her Focus, the outcome she wanted. Cold, bitter freezing cold, like this cold wet day. She was wet and cold, her leggings soaked and water inside her collar. The wind wicked the water from her face, freezing her lips. Cold. Ice. Frost.

    Then she bridged her power to what she wanted with anger so cold it burned. This was so blatantly unfair. She was a queen! Jarl Korir should be kneeling before her! She had only defended herself! She had followed all their gods-damned Nord customs. She'd fought with her fists with a common drunkard. They blamed her because she could do what they could do not. They were stupid. Willfully ignorant. Judgmental. Nords!

    Suddenly her magicka broke free inside of her and her anger lashed out, not in a feeble trickle, but in a powerful howl of icy wind jetting from her hands, striking the house behind her. She could hear the snap of ice and feel the cold through her enchanted leathers. There was nowhere for the cold to go so it reflected back biting her in her own ass. Hastily she cut it off.

    The dogs started barking wildly. "She's trying to escape!" screamed Naudgari.

    "I'm not!" She felt like laughing. She'd done it. She'd finally managed to cast magic using a Seeming! This had been a totally crap day, but she had done it! The entire world of magic was open to her.

    Then Naudgari kicked her in the head and knocked her down. The other two guards joined him and the three of them continued kicking her until she passed out.

    .oOo.​

    She had no idea how long she was unconscious. She doubted it had been long. She was bruised and sore and laying in what was obviously a boat from the rocking motion. She hurt everywhere. If she hadn't been wearing leather armor, she would probably be dead. He left eye was nearly swollen shut, and something was very wrong with her wrist. Slowly she leveraged herself up and looked around with her one good eye. The boat was bigger than a rowboat, but smaller than a ship. She thought that made it a skiff. It had a mast, but the sail wasn't up. Instead, Stefan and Jaako sat up front, facing backwards, and rowing. They were moving together in unison; they obviously had a lot of practice at this. For a moment she wondered why they were rowing instead of using the sail. Then she realized they were sailing directly into the wind. The old bastard was sitting behind her at the tiller, and he had brought both his dogs with him. They sat at his feet totally at ease in the rocking boat and sea spray. Naudgari smiled at her revealing crooked teeth when he saw she was awake.

    That had been stupid. No, she had been stupid. She had thought that if she cast anything it would have been just a trickle of Frost. She hadn't expected that her first attempt would be so successful. Apparently being unjustly arrested in freezing weather was a good way to learn the Frost spell. Which led to the obvious way to escape her pain. Healing oneself was supposed to be the easiest form of healing. The College didn't teach Restoration that way, because they didn't want students beating each other up. Still, if she could cast Frost, she could cast Healing, couldn't she? Wanting the pain to stop was supposed to be an easy Seeming. Not that it would do much good if they beat her up again.

    "I want to heal myself." The words came out as dry whisper. She took a breath and said it louder. "I want to heal myself!"

    Naudgari laughed derisively. "Why would we let you do that?"

    Stefan stopped pulling on his oar and lay on the oar. "You know you can be an elk's ass sometimes, Naudgari. Let her heal herself if she can. We'll all watch her. Where exactly is she going to go? Besides… don't you want her a little more lively for later?"

    "Nah, I don't find it matters as much as it used to when I was younger. She can lie there for all I care. Although, I suppose you and Jaako might want her to have a little wiggle in her."

    Oh gods, no! They were going to rape her! Her mind flashed back to the women she had seen the Dothraki rape. The rapes she couldn't stop. The ones she had tried to stop. NO! Not her. No. Yol stirred inside her, eager to be spoken. It would destroy the boat, but she'd at least take them all with her.

    "I… I…" stuttered Jaako almost dropping his oar. "I guess. I mean she was pretty before, but now she's kinda ugly. She doesn't have to suffer… as long as she behaves." Jaako frowned at her.

    "You understand, mage?" asked Stefan. "If you promise to behave, we'll let you heal yourself. There really is no point in fighting it. It doesn't have to hurt. You might even like it."

    Monsters. They were monsters in the shape of men, and she had meekly put herself in their grasp instead of trying to escape when she had the chance. She had been a fool, but she wasn't going to be a fool now. "Yes," she rasped. "I understand. I'll be good," she lied.

    "Feh," snarled the old bastard. "It's not needed. There are lots of ways to make prisoners cooperative, but I guess we're doing this. Fine. Secure those oars and draw your blades. If she tries anything, we gut her."

    "I won't," promised Daenerys. If they let her heal herself, she would have a better chance when it came time to fight. If she even could heal herself. She had never done it before. No. There was no if. They might not give her another chance. She would do it, because she must do it. She took that determination and gathered in her power, her magic, gathered it tight, and held it ready. The focus was easier than it had ever been for Restoration. She focused on herself. The Seeming was easy. The simple wish for surcease, for the pain to go away, but it wasn't bridging. What if she couldn't? No. Not fear. She focused on the pain and the simple want for it to end. Magic flowed, pure soothing magic, filling her, flooding her. It was warm and soothing and washing away the hurt in her wrist, the swelling in her eye, the coldness in her fingers and toes, her ears and nose. She kept channeling until her magicka drained dry and then she collapsed into the bottom of the boat.

    "Thank you," she said looking at Stefan. He was the only one who even seemed to care a little. She wouldn't spare him, but she would try to make his death fast.

    .oOo.

    ​

    It wasn't much farther to their destination. The Chill wasn't that impressive, just a small outcropping of rock surrounded by an icy beach of rocks with a cleft leading into a cave. This was it. The end of the line. That was a good thing. While the healing had banished the cold for a while, the wet and the temperature had her shivering again. Better to have the fight now while she still could move. It was also a bad thing, because her time had run out. She had to fight three grown warriors backed up by two large dogs and do so with her hands chained behind her back. She could kill two of them with Yol if she judged her distances right. She would have to be lucky to get all three in one Shout. Even if she did, the dogs would likely kill her. Maybe if she pretended to go along with them for a little bit, they would unchain her. That would increase the chance she would live through this, but she doubted the old bastard would be that trusting. No, most likely she was going to die in the next few minutes. Here ends the story of Daenerys Targaryen. She was determined to take them with her.

    "Come on," said Naudgari. "Let's get the supplies put away. Then we can slip into something warm." He laughed and stared at her as he did it.

    "Why do you have to be an elk's ass about it, Naudgari?" asked Stefan.

    "Cause it keeps me warm in winter. Why shouldn't I be? What's got a stick up your ass Stefan? This isn't your first time keeping warm at the Chill. It's a bitter boring post. A man's got to do something to pass the time. You've always been eager before, and we usually have to make do with men. Don't tell me you actually prefer men."

    "No!" denied Stefan hotly, then he sighed. "This one is innocent. It's one thing when they're guilty. That's just part of the punishment, but this one… She didn't really do anything wrong. Vigga came at her with a knife. She just defended herself, and she didn't even burn Vigga. She just warned her off."

    "Horker shit!" the warden snarled. "She's a gods-damned mage. There are no innocent mages. You're just soft on her cause she's a looker. You want the truth? There's no such thing as innocent. There is just the weak and the strong. The strong crush the weak. She pissed off the jarl, and she gets a lesson. We're the lucky bastards who get to teach it to her. I only wish I was younger to enjoy it more. Been ages since I had a pretty girl."

    Jaako was just listening to this conversation with wide eyes. "Innocent? But what about the dragon?"

    Naudgari laughed. "Damn, you're a gullible kid. If that girl could call down dragons, don't you think she would have done it by now?"

    Daenerys tried to locate something, anything, during the distraction that would improve her odds, but they were standing outside a rocky cave. There was nothing, and the three of them weren't standing close enough together anyway.

    Their conversation drew to a close, and they started unloading. Daenerys watched hopelessly feeling her time tick down. However, what she saw when they finally brought her inside the cave gave her hope. Cages! There were three large cages with bedrolls inside them. Two of them had their doors hanging open. There were also some crow's cages hanging from the ceiling, but that was unimportant. The two cages with open doors meant she might live. If she could get Naudgari and his crossbow, the other two only had swords. She could hide in a cage and lob firebolts at them and the dogs. She had a chance now.

    She watched the men looking for an opportunity, but they weren't giving it to her. Stefan looked resigned. Jaako was nervous. Naudgari gloated. All too soon they had the supplies stored away.

    "Well it's time," said Naudgari drawing a dagger and approaching her. "You know if you act up, I slit your throat. Killed trying to escape. I see those wheels turning in that pretty head of yours, but there is no way out of this. This is the lesson girl. Don't piss off the jarl, or you get screwed." He turned to face Jaako. "I think the kid should have first go. You ever had a girl before?"

    "Ye-Ye-Yes," stuttered Jaako.

    This time they were standing close together, and for just a moment they were all distracted. Jaako in embarrassment. Naudgari gloating over Jaako. Stefan had also paused to stare at his son. In that moment she stepped forward and all three of them were right there in her face.

    "Yol!" The Word burst from her throat and exploded in a wave of fire that impacted all three of them. Their bodies tumbled and rolled burning and slammed into the wall of the cave. The dogs yelped and ran about in fear. Daenerys hadn't expected the dogs to react with fear, but she didn't waste time. She ran for one of the cages and awkwardly pulled the door closed with her foot leaving a small gap.

    Now that she was safe, she studied the three bodies. One of them moved a little, but then it stopped. Good. They were dead and her chance of living through this was quite good now. Although her hands were still bound behind her. Working quickly, she slipped the manacles down past her ass and then under her legs to in front of her. She managed to get her hands in front of her just as one of the dogs started advancing on her cage barking. She got up and shot fire through the bars. The dog backed off quickly and kept its distance.

    After snarling at her for a while, the two dogs went over to the bodies. They started nuzzling their dead owner and whining. Daenerys felt a little sorry for the dogs, but as she continued to watch, they started to lick at the corpses. Which then, to her horror, became biting and feeding. That killed any sympathy she'd felt. She cautiously tried to pull the door open, but it was rusty, and it creaked loudly. The two canines looked up with teeth covered in blood. They snarled at her not moving from where they stood.

    "Yeah! Come on then. Come on! Come and get me!"

    They growled at her a bit, deep throaty rumbles of warning. She stood there waiting to see if they would charge, but one of the dogs returned to feeding, and the other followed.

    "All right then." Daenerys felt good enough to Shout again, so she let them feed. Dogs would stay near their food. She nudged the door open and rushed toward them. "Yol!"

    The wave of fire sent one of the dogs flying and burning, but the other had skidded and rolled. It was burnt and battered but still alive. Daenerys rushed and cast Flames at it, channeling all her energy into it until she was drained. The dog no longer moved.

    In the end it was just her and five corpses: three human and two canine. She collapsed to her knees in the wreckage and wept.
     
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