Point Me At The Skyrim (Ward x Elder Scrolls)

[Ridtom]

SPOILERS UP TO INFRARED 19.2! YOU'VE BEEN WARNED!

Who Is Victoria Dallon?

By Senviva

Light 1.1

⊙​

"Bath time!" a cheerful voice emanated from nowhere and I felt my hearts still.

No, no they couldn't make me go. I had power, I had skills, I had experience. They couldn't make me go, not like this, not right now, not ever.

"No fuss no muss," said the voice as faceless men and women appeared on either side of me. Green and black muck spilled from their faces as they began to drag me down the aisle, despite my desperate cries and frantic struggles. No arm reached them, none of my teach latched onto their necks, and my aura only made them vomit out more muck. Sometimes a bone would go with it. Cat, dog, human skeletons were littering the floors.

I struggle and strained as we appeared in the cube, the despot of despair, the shower stall where I was laid bare. I cried as their limbs took hold of me, thin and prodding hands digging into excess flesh, feeling pain despite the fact that is was only cloth they tore from.

I was exposed once more and I couldn't escape myself.

The staring and commentary began.

"Poor thing."

"Stronger than she looks."

"So hard to look at."

"Can we be done here?"

"Are you going to fight me again?"

"Do I have permission to clean you there?"

"Can you feel this?"

"Your Dad couldn't make it."

"Your Mom couldn't make it."

"Your sister and boyfriend are here to see you."

The showers turned on, the rush of water drowning out the voices and washing away the staring faceless helpers..

My fingers on my right hand were carving against the bathroom stall, digging into concrete and feeling the water and dust roll off me with a sensation beyond touch.

My other right hand slammed into the tile floor, trying desperately to crush the reflection in the water.

Useless. Faces to the left and right of me would haunt me, expressions and features so familiar but... different. Expanded, detailed, twisted. Dead inside.

The water was cold, freezing, and my power was useless in keeping it out. I tried to scream, to rend this reality with just the force of my lungs, but this monument of desire could only translate this rage into a guttural moan.

'I'm so cold. Always cold. It can't just be the water.'

A knight in gunmetal gray stood to my left, docile limbs, unmoving but always there. I wanted him to be comforting but all I got was distance.

A cowardly woman cloaked in red was trapped to my right side, mewling, always out of reach of my rending limbs. I wanted to erase her existence, but it felt like she was getting closer and closer.

'I want to end my existence. Ours.'

Above me, taking up an eternity of ceiling and space and time, a weak and tiny fragment of something greater looked down on me with adoration and glory. There was comfort there that the Knight could give, safety that the foolish woman would never compromise, but to reach out to this tiny giant was to compromise something that I couldn't articulate.

'Ours.' The thought was both of us, thinking in sync.

Below me, taking up eons of tile and sustaining itself within an abyss of knowledge, an all-seeing and all-craving being of something older watched me with curiosity and hunger. There was nothing comforting in the Knight, only the obsession of the feeble traitor sister, and to look too deep into this well of desire was to give up all that was I and Ours.

"Mine." The deliverance was none of Ours, solely it's own.

Within that abyss, crawling languidly into life were an infinitum of tentacles and soulless eyes, reaching up and up and up and wanting Me. Us. Ours.

Behind that space and time, piercing through with urgency and care were the multi-limbed light-essence of my partner, grasping and shielding Me. Us. Ours.

Between both beings beyond my existence, I felt torn- shattered- separated- protected- whole- together-

Was this how things were set to be for eternity?

The way things were now?

A thought, one that was all too familiar.

⊙​

"F-Fuck that."

My eyes opened and I immediately regretted it. Biting cold stung my eyes, causing me to wince, feeling as if I had drunk an entire bottle of tequila without something to chase it down.

That was a basis in fact, a side-note in my every embarrassing high-school state of mind, trying to impress the very handsome Dean Stansfield at one of countless high-school parties. Of course, back then it was simply light itself that made me wish I could destroy my own eye-sockets, rather than this offensive cold.

A shuddering breath escaped me, and I could feel my lips crack. I kept my eyes closed, focused on my breathing.

I took a moment to center myself, feeling the cold radiate across my body, goosebumps rising up in flesh that was sculpted to be similar to my own. There were too many sounds; creaking of wood, birds in the distance, maybe running water? Too much to take in at once, but if I could piece together what was what, I could-

"Hey, you. You're finally awake." A gruff voice spoke up, interrupting my thoughts.

"You were trying to cross the border right? Walked right into that Imperial ambush, same as us, and that thief over there."

I blinked, slowly, carefully trying to find the voice without hurting myself in the process. "Ambush? Who-"

A bump sent me sliding slightly, my back slapping against what felt like a short wooden barricade. I instinctively reached out for a handhold, something to keep me upright, and was further shocked to find that moving one arm dragged the other with it.

It was a flash of panic, a memory given vividness despite my lack of clear sight, of trying to move my hands to reach out to her and finding my control lacking. Confused and ripped away from myself. Every day a struggle to perform even basic tasks like typing on a keyboard or tugging at my braided hair.

"Damn you Stormcloaks!" A voice to my right, "Skyrim was fine until you came along. Empire was nice and lazy."

Full of vitriol, I wouldn't have been surprised if they literally spat the words out.

Ignore them. Look at your hand. Focus. Piece these things together. Be the badass you know you are.

"If they hadn't been looking for you, I could have stolen that horse and be half way to Hammerfell!"

Slowly, always slowly, I raised up my right arm. Felt that pull that brought my left with it. I stamped down on the fear, ignored my heart hammering in my chest, and moved my left arm as well. Moved them both.

There. A delay. Different sensations. A rocking motion set me sliding slightly again.

Am I in a car?

I brought my hands in front of me, strained my eyes. A rope. A knot to be specific, tying my wrists together. I opened and closed fists, even as I fought back tears in my eyes, relief overflowing my senses. The scars on my hand and right arm were apparent. Mine.

Mine.

"You there." I turned, eyes wide now. A man bound in ropes like I was sat diagonally from me, face scrunched up and nostrils flaring. His black hair was unkempt, and by my estimate, hadn't been washed in days. His clothing could barely be called such, like if something stitched together a potato sack and gave it openings for limbs.

When he spoke, he spoke with a fervent anger, "You and me - we shouldn't be here. It's these Stormcloaks the Empire wants!"

The voice who had spoken to me the first time, to my left, "We're all brothers and sisters in binds now, thief."

"Shut up back there!" Another man. Too many sounds.

I rubbed my eyes, feeling the headache pulse.

I glanced at the original speaker. A muscular man, easily filling out his chainmail costume, adorned with what looked green cloth in this dreary weather. His hair was should length and dark-blonde, a trimmed beard gracing a sharp face. He was watching the other man - the "thief' - with an expression I couldn't read. The man who shouted was so close I could literally touch him if I wanted, his back to me as they drove... not a car, but a carriage.

Now I could smell it. Horses and their waste, just like those times Aunt Sarah would drag us along to stables outside the city for short vacations.

I'm in a carriage, hands bound, surrounded by people I don't know talking about things I don't understand and I'm fucking freezing.

Figure this out Victoria, Glory Girl, Scholar, Warrior, Monk, Antares. Figure this out.

I looked down at myself. My costume was gone. Replaced with the same rags as the "thief", frumpy potato sacks with no sleeves and pant legs that barely reached my ankles. No buttons either, exposing more chest than I had done comfortably in years. Boots that I had scrounged a literal apocalypse for were gone and replaced with worn-out leather sandal slash slipper hybrids.

Someone had taken my stuff. Had undressed me, after ambushing me apparently, and taken me away from my teammates. Even my connection to Kenzie was gone, if not one of my blinks had activated her implanted eye-camera.

All while the world was suffering from it's second apocalypse?

Something is wrong.

I stood up in the carriage, my flight keeping me stable as the vehicle trotted over the bumpy path.

Are you there, old friend?

The man to my left looked up at me with curious eyes, "Take a seat lass, do not give your life in vain now-"

I felt my forcefield respond as I pulled against my bonds, tearing apart the rope like a string torn between two moving trucks.

Hello there. Had me worried Fragile One.

The driver glanced back to me, his expression one of shock and surprise, "What in the Divines are you doing-"

I took off, flying straight up into the air and through the mist. I was still cold, my forcefield unable to warm me up, but it was able to keep the chill from outside at bay. I experimented as I flew up, clenching hands, moving faces, and opening mouths. I rotated the field, feeling an equal measure of relief and anxiety as it responded.

Master-Stranger Protocols were in effect. There were too many variables and too many questions with too few answers.

When would they have had time to target me, plan this out to remove me from the field, and then carry it out during the Titan attacks?

How did they get past any Thinkers, my team, taken me by surprise,, and removed Kenzie's tech in the frantic moments of our constant rush from battlefield to battlefield?

Where could they have taken me that was beyond Warden or allied supervision in such a short amount of time, while I was surrounded by allies, and through various checkpoints between Earths?

The short answer was that they, he or she or them, couldn't.

My best guess was a Stranger-Shaker. My surroundings might be different from my last recollection of the battlefield, but the power effect warped it further to the point that imaginary scenarios were being filled out by some combination of my consciousness and their power. It could even be that this simulation was taking place while I was unconscious. Rain had mentioned a cape who invaded dreams and the Wardens had one who was dwelving into minds for Stranger Titan victims...

My heart sank.

I had blasted a hole into the section of the Shardspace, cracks in reality that led to the foundations of where powers belonged. I didn't recall much after that, but I did recall that the Stranger Titan had landed near me and had been regaining it's powers as I dived for my gun.

Is this it? My mind separated from reality, perhaps permanently, while my Team has to fight for themselves? My heroes left to the wolves? Those civilians left without a guardian?

Care to chime in there my ever-so-quiet friend?

Nothing.

Okay.

Fuck.

A cold entirely unrelated to my state of dress and the air around me took hold of my self. I glanced around me, seeing water sleeking off my many faces like slick glass. I had to look for cracks, pieces of this supposed reality that didn't fit. A fucking mountain of an obstacle when my surroundings where so alien, when my headspace was so fucked, and my heart had fell to a place somewhere around the bottom of my gut.

I pierced the mist layer, finally free of it's confines, and found myself surrounded by a dreary grey sky. Cracks, tears in space-time, perspectives that didn't correlate properly, feelings of space around me that felt jarring compared to what I was seeing. I looked for all of these flaws, every sense I had available and what my Fragile partner would grant me held to bare.

Nothing. No cracks, no erronous feelings of space and relativity, no vertigo or dulled senses. The air was thinner now.

I'd reached out for a life-line and all I got was mountains. So, so many mountains, capped with pure white snow, peaking out of the mist. Here and there were pockets of forest and what might have been parts of a settlement.

I hung in the air, out of place in the dull scenery, and struggled to articulate the feelings welling up inside me.

Help me out here. Please.

A brief moment. The words shot out like bullet, "Fucking why?!"

 

[Ridtom]

Light 1.2

⊙⊙​

I dipped back to the Earth and heard shouts of frustration. Loud, angry, panicked.

I was silent as I dropped, my flight lacking the whoomph and flutter that many old films had for the heroes back in the day. More than once I had made use of it as a means to silently approach or ambush an unwary foe who had let their guard down. This scenario wasn't too different, although the line of ally and foe hadn't exactly been drawn in the sand yet.

My hands toyed with my hair as I rubbed my arms, feeling goosebumps from the chill. I hadn't noticed when I had taken off, but even my hair had come undone when I had awoken. Like someone had taken their fucking time to put me in the worst headspace possible.

Intrusive thoughts abounded, almost tripping over themselves. Loud, angry, panicked.

Focus on the hair. Is she improving?

Hard to say. There weren't any bands or scrunchies to keep the hair in place, so my friend was limited to braiding and unbraiding it, like a child might practice with their mother. From what I could feel - both hair and forcefield wise - there was maybe a weaker degree of shakiness as it went back and forth over the motions.

Despite myself, a smile made it to my face. My mom had let me practice on her, once. After the resulting disaster, she had delegated Amy to the task of being the dress up doll.

The smile fell.

Maybe don't focus on the hair.

I felt like an absolute wreck. And I really wanted to wreck someone else's shit for that. Preferably those responsible, but beggars couldn't be choosers when it came to fucking up monstrous villains. Even a Titan would be nice, right about now.

At least then it'd be a cold comfort.

The voices grew loud enough that I could make out some words now, and I oriented myself to better aim my descent towards them.

"...heads for this! You should've made better preparations!"

"Better preparations? We had no idea the waif was a mage! She was bound and cuffed after a simple clubbing, never got the chance to display her magics."

"Only a fool would think Ulfric Stormcloak wouldn't have such a trick hidden up his sleeves! Fools, all of you."

There was the sound of feet hitting dirt, metal clanking. Movement.

"You find this funny, Ralof?"

It was a voice I recognized that spoke up this time, "I find many things about this situation amusing Imperial. The fact that Skyrim is in the hands of such incompetence is not one of them."

More movement, a deep thudding sound, an impact.

Quiet.

"...like your traitorous Jarl. Get back on your horse Sevitus, we'll finish the transport to the execution, and then patrol the woods. No levitation spell could have taken them far, even with the morn on the horizon."

Well, he was right in a sense. I hadn't gone far and morning was getting closer, peeking through the mist in thin beams of gold.

Keywords; Mage, spell, club. Whatever they account for as a 'Mage' it's relatively common. Same goes for 'spell'. Those who thought powers were magic made up a decent population. In a primitive world, it's more than possible to play the role and take advantage of the populace.

I felt tension beginning to recede, reciting old statistics and popular cape talk. It lined up with the hypothesis of me being in a different universe. Over two-hundred Earth's had been breached according to Dragon's files, more than a few were hundreds of years behind my Earth's tech level. If I were to commit to this theory, then approaching these guys would violating more up-and-coming laws and citations than we had fingers with our collective bodies. I wasn't sure how that held up with reality potentially ending, but it was something to consider, if only to keep my mind occupied.

But the guard claimed to have clubbed me. How does that line up?

I had been thinking on the way down, trying to organize my thoughts and memories as best I could with my new situation. Hazy in the end, but I knew for certain that I was near my gun and the weakened but recovering Stranger Titan...

But there are no cracks in this fake reality. No sense of detachment in my movement or thought cohesion.

Would a fully powered master effect from a Titan even have the similar tells of a normal cape? Sort of a dumb question. Arachne apparently ignored Manton Limits in summoning her wires, while Skadi never showed the capability of teleporting inside or around Capes or Titans. Oberon was a similar example. Powers, even at their height, refused to easily fall into prim and proper categories.

What about you, friend? Last chance I think.

She was also not someone easy to place. Sometimes it felt like her pushes were overt enough to be a guiding hand on my shoulder. Sometimes I felt like she wasn't there at all, beyond the way my power expressed itself.

I really fucking needed someone here for guidance.

My hair dropped from my hands, a strand falling over my shoulder. I could hear the clutter of sounds as the strange men began to ready for travel, and my mind brought me back to those times where I had watched teens gear up for treks across the ruined multiverse. When had I first taken command of a squad? The third big patrol? The second? Both cases where I felt like staying behind and letting them go as they were would only leave me feeling regrets.

No. No more regrets.

I finished my descent, piercing the diminished mist barrier, making myself visible to the contingent of guards and prisoners below me. I didn't touch ground, keeping myself at least one person high, and cleared my throat loudly.

The sole guard on horseback turned to me, fast enough that his horse whinnied in protest. Ahead of him, my fellow 'prisoners', one of whom I only just now noticed was wearing a very high-quality fur coat, with plated armor that made me long for my own costume. Where his eyes narrowed in suspicion, the 'thief' wide in fear, it was the man who's voice I recognized - Ralof - who tilted his head in surprise; sporting a fresh bruise along his mouth, I noticed.

"Uh, hi-"

An arrow bopped my forcefield, snapping in half at the force of metal head meeting transparent alien energy, and my defense... didn't pop. I waited a moment, but the field remained, all limbs and faces now front facing towards the new threat.

The carriage driver, but not from my wagon. I hadn't noticed in the heat of the moment, but mine wasn't the only one on this road, nor was it the only one filled with prisoners. Most of whom wore the same armor that the snarky Ralof did.

Puzzle pieces were coming together, but I was admittedly distracted by my forcefield. I had known that it had changed, felt those changes in the fight against Oberon. Almost certainly would have died if some aspects hadn't shifted somehow, but without any immediate real threat nearby... it was a strange thing to process how the tolerances have adapted.

"You've got a lot of nerve Mage," the archer growled out, already knocking another arrow, "Come to rescue your treacherous leader I see."

I raised my hands up, placating, only to see the other guards flinch back. The other carriage driver pulled out a sword, while the one on horseback did the same, circling around me to flank.

Right, okay. Fuck.

"Look, there's been some sort of misunderstanding here. I don't know who these people are or-"

The archer let loose another arrow. It bopped the forehead of one of my skulls, breaking harmlessly apart as it fell to the ground.

"-where I am." I finished lamely.

The thief stood up, "Exactly! Me and her, we're in the same boat! Nothing to do with these wretched Stormcloaks!"

"Sit back down you low-life scum or you'll get an arrow to the back instead of the executioners blade! The former is far more painful."

The thief quietly sat back down.

"Powerful magic," the horseback rider commented, "Can't even see the Ward."

I glanced behind myself, keeping most of my attention on the archer, wary that the next arrow might actually pop my field. The rider was young, baby faced almost, but his body was well-defined, fitting into the leather armor well enough. It looked Roman, if the bits of history channel Ashley had made me watch were to be true.

The sword in hand, the intensity of his eyes, and the sweat on his brow betrayed his nervousness.

Sevitus?

"It's not..." I paused, thinking on how to continue. "Not a kind of magic that you're thinking of. Or that I am, I guess?"

The archer growled, "Ulfric is borrowing muscle from foreign lands now eh? Just when I think you can't sink any lower."

"Tough words, coming from the Thalmor's lap dogs," Ralof spoke up. "Although I suppose I shouldn't be surprised at the Empire's hypocrisy. Not anymore."

"You'll die for those words traitor."

"No, Invictus. I'll die for my honor."

Okay, this is getting a bit out of hand.

"Look." I cut in before they could continue, "I'm just trying to ask some questions, because a lot of things aren't adding up about this situation and-"

Another arrow was let loose. An invisible hand caught the wooden projectile, the arrowhead inches from striking the field once more. A gentle squeeze snapped it like a twig.

"-And if you fire another arrow at me, I'm not going to be civil anymore."

I flared my aura, not nearly at full strength, but enough that the waves would reach the archer/leader. The horse-rider's hand began to shake, earning another concerned whinny from his poor stead as he widened his circle. The prisoners and Ralof took a share of the blast, unfortunately, and I could see how each of them shivered or shuffled nervously. The gagged man in armor seemed to be handling it the best, controlling his breathing.

The leader was at the edge of the effect, but coupled with my words he at least paused mid-grab for another arrow. Where the man I pegged as Sevitus was young, Invictus - if I presumed correctly - was... not old but harder. Long face, dark shadows under his eyes, and faint scar above his right brow.

Slowly, he lowered his hand and I lowered my aura.

"Okay. Good. Let me restate: I have no idea who any of you are and no idea where I am. Last thing I remember was... fighting in a city and then I woke up here, in some sort of mountain range? These aren't my clothes either."

Silence. The guards kept their eyes locked onto me, confused or not. Ralof continued to study me with an expression I couldn't place, while the gagged man appeared simply... curious.

"Alright, how about you just tell me how you found me then? What I was doing, wearing, anything? One of you mentioned clubbing me right?"

In the corner of my eye, Sevitus flinched. I zeroed in on him.

"Please. Lives are at stake right now. I need to know."

Nothing. Sevitus refused to look me in the eye, glancing between me and his leader, who simply scowled. I ramped up the aura slight, he and his horse both reacted like a hot poker had nudged them... but still they refused.

Fuck this-

"You were crossing the border," Ralof spoke, "Our group was seeking a passage through the mountains beyond Imperial patrols, but someone tipped them off. Ambushed us as we began to set up camp. You and the thief here-"

"Lokir," mumbled the thief.

"-Lokir, were hiding among the stables and found once the fighting broke out. I didn't see what happened to you exactly, but they dragged you to these wagons unconscious."

I flew closer, ignoring how the guards and prisoners shrunk back a bit, "And I was wearing this? These clothes in particular? They didn't..."

The leader, Invictus, growled, "Don't be ridiculous! To undress a young woman while she's unconscious, criminal or not, would be the height of dishonor. We caught you and the thief attempting to make off with the horses, and Sevitus dolled out what was needed to bring you to justice."

Ralof barked out a laugh, "To hear an Imperial cry about honor while a Jarl remains gagged and my face numb is a tale that not even the cheapest of bards would tell."

"We are honorable, not stupid. Ulfric has already used the power of the Voice to get his way. As for you... well, think of it as a taste of justice for all the good men who have died by your hand."

I clapped my hands, grabbing everyone's attention, "Sorry to interrupt, but let's not get sidetracked here. You said I was trying to steal horses? To ride with?"

"Obviously," replied Invictus.

Lokir looked up, "A crime that isn't worthy of an execution!"

A glare from Invictus had him shrink in on himself.

"Invictus," I said, "Don't you see the problem with this idea? Why would I need a horse?"

Invictus rolled his eyes, "Many reasons. We aren't fools Mage. We know that Magic has it's limits like anything else in this world, and prolonged use of a spell would leave you defenseless when you inevitably succumb to exhaustion."

Interesting. Something to file away for later, even if it didn't help me in the moment.

"Do I look like I'm exhausted? I've been flying non-stop for awhile now."

"Mhm. Could have drank a potion before the hit. Out of Sevitus's sight, burning through magic to bluff us. Or you could be one of the mad ones who eats wild plants in search of restorative abilities."

"A potion," I raised an eyebrow, "Really?"

"Of course, the simplest explanation is that Ulfric hired you from another land. A Nord mage who travels the continent isn't unheard of, especially one who works for the right amount of Septims. You couldn't leave him behind, so you stuck to horse-traveler or on foot if you needed to steal one."

"All of this," he gestured at the stopped carriages and prisoners, "Is to stay an execution, until you at least get paid."

I spent a moment thinking through what he was proposing. A lot of things weren't tracking, with how he described powers as requiring 'potions' and 'spells'. The closest I could think of was the vials of Shin, closely guarded by their government, and a few Capes who fell hard for the Magic angle.

Myrddin had been the most famous, often spouting magic related puns or giving words of wisdom as a Wizard, but it hadn't gotten in the way of his career as a Hero. To my best recollection, despite the criticism some fans threw at him, he didn't go as far as brewing actual potions or using cauldrons.

Speaking of... could this be one of their test bed worlds? Playing up the fantasy aspect while breeding powers?

Chilling. Horrific.

A gong echoed through the air, catching everyone by surprise. I felt the tremors of the air through my field, faint as they were. Like the air was shaking.

The gagged man, Jarl, seemed to perk up.

"Did you hear that?" Lokir murmured.

"Thunder?"

"It's not the season nor time of day for thunder," Invictus met my eyes, "Is it Mage?"

It took me a moment to parse what he was thinking, "You think I did that? I haven't moved an inch."

"You were gone quite some time in your escape attempt. Could have performed any number of rituals."

"If I wanted to escape Invictus, I would literally be gone right now." I pointed at myself, "And according to you, I'm apparently burning 'magic' as we speak."

"Enough coin from an ex-Jarl could make anyone loyal, Mage."

Fuck off.

"I don't have any money, I don't know who Jarl is, and my name isn't Mage. You can call me-"

Another echo, louder, deeper. The woods reverberated with it's presence and I felt it reverberate within my bones.

Jarl was trying to get Ralof's attention.

"There it is again!" Lokir cried out, "By the Divines what is that?!"

"A clever trick by a Mage with money on the line, clearly."

Frustrated, I pointed at Jarl, "If anyone know anything about this, it's the guy who's gagged and trying to talk to... Ray-loff right?"

At the mention of his name, he met my eyes, "Ralof of Riverwood, yes. Ulfric seems to be trying to warn me. Warn us."

Oh. That's who Ulfric is. Huh.

Invictus smirked, "And there it is men. A ploy to get us ungag the former Jarl for answers, headed by a Mage in his employ and one of his right-hand men. Clever, for the short time it took, but the game is over."

He turned his back on me, shouting, "All of you are going to be executed under the supervision of General Tulius! Skyrim will be at peace once more, and you will be footnote in the history of the Empir-"

The ground shook. Slightly, but it shook none the less, causing the proud man to stumble.

An echo - a voice - broke through the air. Through the woods. Through my forcefield. Through my bones.

It broke through me.

Everyone stumbled as the sky erupted into a deep and volcanic red, the clouds morphing and twisting to a will that I couldn't understand but felt spellbound to observe. The morning turned from a dreary gray to a vengeful crimson.

And then the sky began to fall.

 

[Ridtom]

Second chapter isn't threadmarked?

I really enjoy elder Scrolls crossovers, but I'm missing a lot of the Ward info, haven't read that. Will it be essential going further?

Click to shrink...

Depends on how far along into Ward you are.

Anatares (Victoria Dallon) is a superhero from Worm/Ward, hailing from the Megacity of Earth Gimel, a Giant Megaopolis in the center of portals leading to different alternate Earths.

Her powers include: Forcefield, Aura, and Flight.

Her forcefield (at this point in time) is around 10 feet in diameter, made up of multiple limbs and torsos and heads etc. It's invisible, but Victoria has a psychic sense of its movement and she can manipulate it with her mind. This forcefield grants her super-strength and durability, to an extent.

When she was weaker she used to be able to lift 14 tons, now she can kick cars 20ft through the air, tip over semi-trucks, and throw coins as hard as bullets.

Her durability allows her to take any hit, but above a certain threshold of power the forcefield will pop almost right after impact. However, if it is a continuous attack, her forcefield stays up far longer but will take longer to reform. For example, a bullet will pop the forcefield, but a stream of water will slide off harmlessly. She can bend the rules by spinning her forcefield really fast, making it so that her power thinks it's a continuous attack.

She's recently shown adept use of weapons with her forcefield limbs.

Her aura basically makes her radiate out Fear/Awe, with her being able to control both the range (from skintight to at least a large building in size) and power (ambient discomfort to complete mental paralysis for a moment). It mostly radiates fear now, but it really does depend on people's mental wiring. She's resistant to emotional manipulation as a result.

Her flight allows her speeds of 100+mph and no sense of vertigo. In fact, she's able to detect subtle changes in air pressure if she pays attention, and she highly maneuverable in tight spaces.

It should be noted that her power is sentient and sapient, which she calls the Fragile One, who tries to help her as best she can with its limited capabilities. They have a pretty good relationship, if a bit of an idolization of Victoria by the Fragile One.

Skill wise, she's an adept H2H fighter even without her forcefield, using flight to perform super grappling. She's a fairly good shot with a rifle (though she hates most guns), and she's studied powers for as long as she can remember, literally creating her own personal library of secret information

 

[Ridtom]

Light 1.3

⊙⊙⊙​

I had been sleeping when the world first ended.

It was a rough week for me, having doctors perform new procedures to try and find a way to untangle the useless spinal cords wrapped around each other, without it potentially robbing me of what limited movement and action I had.

Which meant it had been a rough week for the handlers, trying to coax me into some measure of positivity, forced to withstand my animalistic bursts of fear when they would inevitably fail.

Which meant it had been a rough day for the visiting specialists who only had superficial knowledge of how things were being run inside the facility, even less so for every individual emergency.

The result was that when Scion betrayed humanity, I had been in a deep sleep of physical and emotional exhaustion, thankfully not dreaming. Thinking back on it, I wondered if I had woken up slightly to the earth shaking from his first few blows and then fell back to slumber, or if I simply added that experience in post.

In any case, I ended one day anxious on how my world could possibly be over with a botched surgery... and woke up to the world ending by a botched attempt at saving it.

No, that wasn't fair.

That was misplaced anger at being helpless while news and radio were alight with how the tallest buildings were crumbling down onto innocent people, bemoaning the fact I couldn't be with my family during this ultimate betrayal. To rescue those in dire straights.

To be a hero once more.

Balls of fire rained down from the sky like falling stars, streaking through air that seemed to have been made dimmer.

Not through the smoke and ash of the burning debris, but by the fact that the world itself seemed to have been overlaid by a cosmic filter. Trees shattered into a shower of splinters, the ground exploded into craters larger than myself, and the people below cried out in fear and pain.

Wish fucking granted Victoria.

It was too late for the front wagon, it's remains spread out along the ruined road like a burning carcass.

Hands that couldn't be seen with normal vision latched onto Sevitus, pulling him from his horse just as a flaming rock struck the ground at it's hooves. I spun the field around, keeping Sevitus out of range from shrapnel and burning flesh, feeling the edge of the explosion ripple across limbs, breasts, and faces with a sense that went beyond touch.

My forcefield dropped, and I felt the filtered air from within expel out and form a brief pocket around me, a fragile shell from the burning fumes of the forest. It didn't last long, the dry air bringing tears to my eyes.

Sevitus for his part was sent rolling into shrubbery, the momentum of my brief spin caring him away from the new flames before he came to a stop.

Dazed, he looked up me, as if searching for direction.

"Run!" I shouted, aura flaring briefly, "Deeper into the forest! Stay low and keep the tall trees and rocks behind you!"

He began to scramble to his feet, but I couldn't stay and watch after him. I had to trust he would at least consider following my orders.

There were others who needed me.

Ralof, Lokir, and the one called Ulfric were crouched behind the wagon, all of their eyes pointed towards the sky in fear. The driving horse had been maimed or killed, a patch of skin smoking and the reigns torn from the wooden latch.

Ralof kept a steady hand on Lokir, as Ulfric struggled with the gag using bound hands.

Invictus was nowhere to be seen.

Keep your wits about you.

How many times had Crystal and Aunt Sarah drilled the caution for aerial attacks into my brain?

I flipped myself over, the front of my body facing the sky as I dove towards the wagon. The clouds were spinning, moving so fast and forcefully that I couldn't imagine the risk of flying through them, even with my forcefield. Still, it seemed as though we were in a bit of a reprieve at the moment, with small pockets of meteors seeming to fall a short distance away.

Further down the road, the barrage of flames appeared to be far denser and continuous.

A roar filled the air as I finally slid beneath the wagon, feeling the coarse earth scrape up against my elbows as I dipped just a bit too low.

Fuck me, I missed my armor.

On cue my forcefield reformed, blossoming around my body, and I set my phantom limbs to the task of lifting the wagon off the ground. Not even in the top twenty heaviest things that I've lifted, even before my power changed, and the added dexterity allowed the primitive vehicle to remain steady as I flew above the trio of men.

All three looked at me with wide eyes. Lokir running his hands through his hair, snot and tears carving lines through ash that marked his face. Ralof seemed lost in wonder, but he had an appreciative smile on his lips.

Ulfric's eyes were hard as they took me in. They looked nothing alike, but the brief image of Gary overlapped with his own in my mind.

"Go deeper into the woods! I'll cover you!"

Ulfric and Ralof shared a single glance before taking off, Lokir stumbling in Ralof's grip as they picked up speed. I shadowed them, splitting attention to follow them and keeping the disposable wooden shield at my back.

The roar filled the air once more, and as distant as it was, seemed no less powerful.

What the hell is happening?

I had told them to run into the forest based on a hunch, the gut feeling that trees would be safer than an open road when it came to avoiding a threat that had turned four men and a horse into unrecognizable pieces. The canopy tops kept the descent of the meteors hidden, and the light snow of the fields slowed their run, but I felt that the trade-off would be worth it in our scramble to safety.

I was forced to reconsider as one of the great trees began to fall, the base of it's trunk torn away by a glancing blow of molten rock, tipping towards the fleeing trio of prisoners.

I soared towards the lumbering foliage, spinning the wagon around me fast enough that the wind was shaking the smaller trees nearby. High-speed wagon met forty-foot pine, the sound almost deafening on collision, my shield tearing in two.

But it worked perfectly. The tree bounced away from the impact and I followed it down, my forcefield in between it and my charges, holding the remains of the wagon for even a bit of added defense. Landing parallel to the party, I could see how the shockwave made them all stumble slightly, turning their attention to me as I flew back to meet them.

More meteors broke through the forest canopy, but they were definitely smaller and more spread-out. They weren't even coming down as consistent as before.

As if to mock me, two more fireballs burst forth from the canopy, twigs and branches offering no resistance as they came straight for us.

I spun the remainder of carriage around me, the build up lacking somewhat due to lack of time, but still sent the chunks of wood and metal bits soaring with a release of my hands. The rock demolished the chunks in a glorious explosion of flame, cascading out into the nearby shrubbery.

Molten rock slipped off of my field, tracing thin lines as I wicked them off, barely a focus.

I cursed as the second one broke through the cloud of ash, it's aim still true.

Risky to lose a defense now, but if I spun it just right-

FUS RO DAH

Even within my forcefield, the sound was nearly deafening, air shuddering against my forcefield. A wave of force echoed past me, tightly focused into a stream of power, unrelenting as it obliterated the rock. The power continued on, quenching fires from nearby branches and parting the canopy like an artillery blast.

Heart pounding against my chest so much it hurt, I turned to the group.

Ulfric stared back, breathing deeply. A torn gag of rags in his hand.

Powers.

Now wasn't the time for questions. Not yet.

The forest was dying, flames spreading from the top down, pockets of heat in the earth where the meteors had crashed through. Animals were fleeing the forest now, deers, rabbits, and foxes sprinting for their lives.

A thin-green figure was running among them, only to vanish past a tree in the distance, too far to make out completely.

Just more questions.

I flew down to the group.

"Thanks for the save! Do any of you know how far until we breach the forest?"

Lokir flinched, eyes to the ground. Was my hearing so borked that I had shouted that? Poor guy.

Ulfric nodded as he spoke, "Aye, around sixty paces from here. We could make it at a run, just barely, but only if these damned flames haven't cut us off first. You wouldn't happen to have frost magic, would you Mage?"

Ralof glanced my way.

His voice was deep and smooth, and despite the situation I felt a sort of familiarity in the way he held himself as he spoke to me. Carol had drilled it into me often enough, and I had practiced similar ways of presenting myself as a hero in the mirror of my home.

Standing tall even in the worst of situations. Failing to do so more often than not.

Still, he seemed exhausted, and I wondered how much of it was running in plate armor through a rough forest dusted with light snow, and how much of it was power related.

Barker had been a small-time crook before joining the Undersiders, with a similar vocal power, if not quite as focused. There had been reports that his power and voice got weaker with every use, till he was reportedly out of commission for a week or two.

A meteor crashed through, a lone missile that hit nothing of importance. A reminder that the danger was still very present, if lowered.

I floated in the midst of the three, "Frost or ice isn't really my move-set. But I can get us out of this forest. Sorry about this."

More than one voice spoke up to ask what I meant, and more than one voice cried out as my hands and legs gripped their armpits and buckles where they had them. Ulfric didn't pop the field immediately, and I took that moment to take flight through the forest, the cries louder in spite of the wind drag.

I wasn't moving all that fast, if I was being really honest.

Thirty miles per hour was a snail's pace when in such a deadly environment, but with the abundance of trees in my path and the size of my forcefield making me have to account for the narrower gaps in nature, it was better safe than sorry.

Still, even with those hindrances, the fire was steadily falling by the wayside and the sound of meteors just dull thuds in the distance.

It took only a minute to finally breach the forest proper, a small hill looking over a dirt road winding down the mountain side. The air here was fresh, no longer filtered in the oppressive grey and blood red of the road and inner forest.

I cast a glance back at the forest as I set my passengers down. Smoke was billowing beyond the tree-line, but it wasn't the deep black kind I was used to associating with heavy fires like Lung or Spitfire. As devastating as the initial shower had been, the snowy landscape and cold climate was doing wonders in preventing the fire from getting out of hand.

More ominous was the swirling clouds and red sky hanging over it, clashing violently with the calm grey skies on the outskirts. A power of some type for sure, massive in range and destructive capability.

A dark mass flickered through the red and grey, incredibly large, before vanishing completely. I only knew it wasn't a trick of the eye by the shift in cloud position as it had passed, and the faint roar from the sky.

I wasn't sure if it was distance or some other factor, but the twisted clouds seemed to be slowing down-

A retch broke off that thought, and I turned to see Lokir on his hands and knees. What looked like chicken broth spilled beneath him. I felt an immeasurable pang of guilt for this man I'd only just met minutes before.

It hadn't been a pleasant morning for him, and I probably played a part in that recently.

Ulfric was taking a deep breath of fresh air, staring off the mountain. Ralof knelt down next to the man, a strong hand on his back as smaller retching continued.

I floated towards the pair, "How's he doing?"

"Well enough all considered, much like the rest of us. Not many a man can say in this day and age to have soared through the air like an eagle."

Lokir retched some more, with sobs added into this new batch.

Ralof patted his back, "But perhaps.... a warning for the future? My stomach is made of iron for eating, not sudden flights above our earth."

I grimaced, but nodded, "Fair enough. It was a rushed call, I'll admit to that. I really, really, am sorry about that."

"Apologies are unneeded." Ulfric glanced back my way, "You've saved our lives with your quick thinking, and thus the life of a movement in our homeland. You have my gratitude, fair Mage. Say only the word, and I shall return your favor."

"Perhaps a start would be to finally learn her name." Ralof gave me a bruised smile, beard crusted with ash and snow, "Even I could hear your aggravation as our Imperial 'friends' kept calling you that title."

Well, now that it was time for it, I... honestly didn't know what to go with. Victoria was my name, as was Antares, as was the Scholar, the Monk, and Glory Girl. I don't even know what I was going to say to Invictus in the heat of the moment, and that felt honestly kind of terrifying.

I felt like I had been given a set of options that could determine more than just how people addressed me in this odd world.

I wasn't even seventy percent sure that I was Victoria Dallon. If I gave them that name, would it sound believeable?

What do you think Fragile One. Who do you think I am?

I let her unfold for a moment, released the control I kept on her actions.

Nothing.

A hand fell on Lokir's shoulder, not a rub, but just... there. He shuddered under the touch.

Okay.

I met Ralof's eyes, "You can call me Antares or Victoria. Either one is fine with me."

"....long enough." Lokir murmured.

Ralof interjected, "Victoria is good, a strong name. Yes, it puts in mind Victory."

Ulfric cleared his throat, "On the subject of friends. Victoria, it seems our brave and gallant Empire captors have made an appearance."

Ulfric turned from his view off the mountain, pointing further down the rough road.

Sure enough, Invictus and Sevitus were there, staring at our group but too far to read their expressions. Body language wise, their weapons hadn't been drawn, but both of kept their hands close to the hilt.

Invictus's bow was gone, I noticed.

Ulfric took confident steps down the path, eyes like steel and a voice to match.

"Let us see how much of their blood must be shed for our passage to freedom."

 

[Ridtom]

Light 1.4

⊙⊙⊙⊙​

I wasn't all that great a hero, if I was being honest with myself.

As Glory Girl, I had been exposed to some of the worst that Brockton Bay had to offer for quite some. I'd helped Carol and Mark raid factories where Lung had women imprisoned, making drugs while waiting to be sold off to individuals hidden from society by illegal and legal means. My cousins and I stopped several Empire initiations involving kidnapping and torturing minority groups, often young teens who were isolated. More than once I would fall asleep reading news reports of the growing drug epidemic plaguing the neighborhoods closer to downtown.

We'd all felt the heavy blow of losing Aunt Jess to a kid not that much older than my tween self.

As Glory Girl I let those feelings of anger and frustration fester, simmering just below the surface whenever I went out on patrol, and then vented those same dark feelings onto whatever poor and sorry criminal had pushed me too far. Those were the days of breaking people, leaving them on the cusp of permanent disability and near death, feeling that if I just hit a little bit harder, or be a little bit more brutal, I could physically rend evil itself.

As Glory Girl, I let the boy I loved and wished to marry die. Killed him by inaction.

As Glory Girl, I failed Victoria Dallon, opened her up to betrayal and to be trapped in hell for two years.

My goal as Antares was to right those wrongs I had committed, to make sure I would never let anyone suffer like I had, that I wouldn't needlessly and foolishly hurt people who didn't deserve it.

To live life without regrets.

As Antares I had allowed the Navigators to be chopped into mincemeat, undying and in agony. Nearly killed my own mother. Left at the mercy of a monster with the face of my sister. Byron had been brain damaged protecting me. Ashley, one of my closest friends, had been left to die alone. I had nearly killed my entire team with a rushed and desperate venture to the place where powers resided, not nearly prepared enough to deal with the beings who empower men and monsters.

I had failed more times than I could count and had more than a few new regrets.

Now, as a stranger in a world that may only exist in my head from a totally fucked power, I had to wonder if this was another failure as a hero on my part. That I hadn't passed some secret mental test, a potentially new regret for not being at the top of my game one hundred percent of the time.

I had saved prisoners and I didn't even know what crime they committed.

I was left slightly behind as Ulfric trotted down the road, Ralof following while half-carrying a wobbly Lokir, neither one of them commenting on what he had just said.

Neither had I, come to think it.

I floated forward, passing the limping duo, till I was side by side with Ulfric.

"Spilling blood isn't the answer here." I said.

Ulfric regarded me with a side glance, one snow encrusted eyebrow raised. He didn't sound quite as exhausted when he spoke, "You think Imperial dogs wouldn't stop us? That they would let us stroll past, knowing that my continued living means their eventual defeat? What lies has Cyrodiil been telling it's Nords?'

Well, that's a lot to unpack.

"I was hoping I was making it clear back on the trail that I wasn't... exactly from around here," I said. "This empire, it wouldn't happen to be Roman is it?"

He turned to me, slowing his stride slightly as he looked me up and down. It would have felt violating, had his face not been one of complete incomprehension.

Ulfric spoke slowly, "I haven't heard of a group of man named Roman, be it within the Empire, Skyrim, or the plains of Hammerfell. The Empire is a loose collective of various kinds of cultures, men, beast, and the mer... as unfortunate as that tends to be. Once, they were a mighty force who fought for the rights of man. Now, they are only a shell of their former selves, dogs for the Dominion's Thalmor, trampling over the Nords who have fought for them for centuries."

I thought back to what I heard in those frantic minutes, "And that makes you the Stormcloaks? That's why this Empire is after you?"

"Aye," Ralof spoke up behind us, "We fight for Liberty from the oppression we've faced for years now. And that be Ulfric Stormcloak himself. Not surprised you wouldn't recognize him, since you've probably only seen those horrid wanted posters Imperial patrols have put up."

Ulfric met my eyes, "I wonder about that."

Glad I'm not the only one.

I was really wishing Ashley had pressed a bit harder in getting me to watch those history documentaries with her. Nords were probably a reference to people of Norwegian descent, and I'm guessing by how I've been called one twice now, blonde and blue-eyed was a standard there. The clothing that Invictus and Sevitus wore seemed to be roman themed, but apparently they were just called Imperials from a place called Cyrodiil.

I had no idea what Mer meant or what Hammerfell and Skyrim were.

Things seemed to be pointing to an alternate Earth of some sort, which was comforting because it meant I wasn't rendered insanely suicidal in an alternate reality. Less comforting to consider the implications of how I got here in the first place.

One thing at a time.

I spoke, "Let me try to reason with them. We've all been caught up in something none of us expected, they've suffered heavy losses from the, uh, rain of fire just now. A truce right now does everyone good."

"I would agree with Victoria, Ulfric." Ralof huffed out a breath, "Not much fighting a man can do with our fellow prisoner in poor shape as he is."

Lokir let out a small moan at that, watery eyes glancing up at us briefly before falling to the ground.

Ulfric paused in his descent, looking over Ralof and Lokir, eyes roving over them much like they had done for me. I was really, really hoping he wouldn't voice the obvious counterpoint to Ralof.

When he turned to me, he looked almost upset at whatever realization he'd had.

"Are you a trained diplomat, Victoria the Mage?"

"Not exclusively, no," I ignored the annoying mage comment, "But it was part of my duties back where I came from, and I have some experience with handling these kinds of situations."

"And you came from-"

The sound of shuffling feet caught both of our attention.

Invictus was meeting us halfway. Sevitus followed shortly behind, constantly glancing between myself and the way back. My vantage point next to Ulfric wasn't the best, but it seemed like the kid was trying to peek out at something over the hill the road was built into.

Ulfric and I turned to face the soldiers, and they stopped, a bit over ten feet away. I could see the hands on their hilts now, sweat beading at their brow. Looking closer, Invictus's armor was scorched along his shoulder pauldrons, the leather black and curling up along the ridges.

You've got weapons, but Ulfric has powers that I don't know the limits of.

If shit hits the fan, will I be able to get between you guys without someone dying?

There was an awkward silence for a moment, as both sides regarded the other, and I found it a bit unfair that both sides took time to watch me specifically.

"Mage," Invictus spoke up after a long second, "I'm told that you saved Sevitus life with your magic. Is this true?"

I glanced at Sevitus, who stood up straighter under my gaze, chin high.

"Yeah," I said. "I couldn't help him through the forest unfortunately, but I moved him out of the way."

Invictus nodded, his hard face softening just a fraction, "Then you have my gratitude, and my boy owes you his life. May I have your name?"

I literally couldn't see any family resemblance there, but didn't comment on it. "Antares or Victoria, whichever one you prefer Invictus. Might not believe me, but I am glad to see you're both alright."

Sevitus did a short bow, "I thank you, my Lady. I truly do owe you my life."

I smiled at the sincerity, "It's really no issue. Any other hero would do the same."

Invictus's expression twisted, almost insulted.

I realized my slip up a bit too late.

"A hero you say?" And it seemed that he wanted to spit out the words with venom, "Bold words for the company you keep, Antares the Mage."

"Bold as they are, they are nonetheless true," Ulfric spoke up in my defense, "Victoria has single-handedly saved the rebellion, and thus Skyrim, from it's oppressors."

"She's saved a murderer and those who have killed good soldiers who only want the best for Tamriel, you vile traitor."

Murderer.

I clapped my hands, feeling a sense of deja vu as the men looked my way. I thought about how I could diplomatically piece this annoying puzzle together.

My mind went back to the nightmare that was the raid on Earth N. Having to lead Carol, Damsel, Rain in his fucked up mental space. What it meant to take charge for me.

"Fuck this."

Both men blanched at that. Sevitus held a hand up to his mouth, while Ralof's bruised grin beamed.

There was a small amount of satisfaction as I flew between the two men, watching them flinch back, "I'm really done getting interrupted while trying to figure out what the hell is going on, so I'm going to make myself very clear. I am not from here and I don't know how I got here. I don't mean this country or land or Empire either. I don't know what history you have with each other beyond what I just now learned from Ulfric, and what I can guess from your attitude, Invictus."

Said soldier sneered as I pointed at him, "What crimes is Ulfric accused of?"

Invictus eyed me warily, seemingly off balance by my assertiveness, "You truly aren't with him, are you?"

I shook my head.

He glared at the men behind me, "Ulfric Stormcloak murdered the High King of Skyrim using the Voice, his corpse now in pieces, attempting to rebel and secede from the Empire. He's been collecting like-minded scum to raid Imperial camps and take over cities, butchering the citizens who dare speak out against him. Many of the men I had trained and grown with have been slaughtered by his blade and voice both."

Fuck. I honestly didn't expect that.

Why couldn't these situations ever be simple?

I turned to Ulfric. He seemed entirely unimpressed, not even showing a speck of guilt at the supposed crimes he was being accused of, staring down Invictus with those steel eyes of his.

"I challenged the High King to a duel, Victoria." He met my eyes, "In the true Nord way, it was an equal and righteous affair, that he swore to uphold. It should be in his credit, with what little he deserves, that he faced me knowing what was at stake. I did use the Thu'um, this is true, but only to gain the high-ground to finish him off with my blade. As such, I have the strongest claim to the Throne, the rightful claim for the Moot, that his woman does not."

He looked at the duo with amazing disdain, "What your Imperial friend here forgets to mention, is that the Empire has been stomping out our worship of Talos, the god of the Nords."

Invictus barked out a laugh, "Really? You talk of oppression, but I've read the reports of what goes on within those walls of Windhelm. And outside of them."

Ralof looked stricken at that remark.

Ulfric scowled, "Tell me, dog, how many of my Nord brethren are being chained and tortured by the Thalmor that tromp over our lands as we speak?"

He turned to me, and his eyes were no longer steel. The whites were showing, the lines of stress along his face deeper with how the light of the day and from the fire crossed his expression, as if part of him glowed from within.

"Tell me, Victoria or Antares, our stranger from a strange land. What do you say now about passing without blood, when these truths are laid out to bare?"

Invictus and Sevitus tensed, armor crinkling as they reacted to 'blood'. Ralof looked torn, and I could see how he shifted himself so that Lokir was just behind him. The thief was white as stone, clinging to Ralof like a child would to their parent.

A sad sight, when he couldn't have been that much younger than my own father.

I raised a hand, bidding Invictus to pause as I floated closer to Ulfric.

"Did the High King have any abilities?" I asked.

"Abilities?"

"Powers. Magic is what you'd call it, or the Voice? Thumb?"

"Thu'um," he corrected. "No. He was once quite gifted the blade as young man, but he was not a Mage or Master of the Thu'um. His service as a puppet of the Empire left him rusted in skill and mind."

I nodded, taking that in, imagining it. Imagining someone with powers back home, someone like me, challenging a soldier to a deathmatch. I tried to picture how it would look to those who watched us, the mindset I would need follow through with using my power on them when all they had was a knife or bayonet to defend themselves with. Not for food or self-defense, but for a title of leadership.

I met his eyes, my expression painfully neutral, "I think we should part ways here."

His eyes didn't lose that fire, but I could see how that seemed to smolder the flames within a bit.

I turned to Invictus and his son, "Everyone here should. I'm not going to pretend to fully understand or approve of what I'm hearing, from either side, but it's clear that nothing is going to be resolved by us killing each other-"

A bit of a lie there. I had no doubt Ulfric would be capable of killing these two if I didn't act fast enough. No need for bruised egos to make things worse though.

"-And we are all rattled by surviving whatever just happened to us a few minutes ago."

"What happened," Ulfric intoned, "Was Dragons."

I turned to him, eyebrow raised, not entirely sure he was serious.

Joke or not, Ralof seemed to be as pale as Lokir was, hearing that from his leader. I turned to Invictus and Sevitus, and saw some measure of shock on each of their faces.

"Really?" I said, trying and failing to keep my disbelief in check.

"Do you not know of the legends of old?" Ulfric asked, sounding genuinely curious, "Your land must be a strange one indeed. Skyrim was home to some of the most powerful of the creatures, thousands of years ago, with their tombs and temples pocketing the land. Some thought them to be a mere myth."

"Okay," I said, "Or, like Invictus said, this is the result of a power. Someone else's doing rather than, uh, Dragons."

Invictus grunted, "Ulfric is a master of the Thu'um. The supposed 'tongue' of the Dragons according to legends. If he truly believes it's Dragons... then it could explain why Helgen is burning."

"No." Ralof stepped forward, horrified and disbelieving, "Can you be so sure?"

Sevitus spoke up, "If you keep to this road, you'll see the pillars of smoke and flame. I'm... sorry, Ralof, if you had family there."

Ralof shook his head, but didn't say anything.

Really? I thought. Was everyone really believing this?

"In any case," Ulfric looked to me, "It seems our paths diverge here, Victoria the Mage. I am truly grateful for your saving of our lives, and I hope that Talos smiles on your travels. Should you realize the folly of the Empire, find me in Windhelm. The Stormcloaks shall embrace you with open arms and help you in your goals as much as we can."

I nodded, still distracted, and not entirely sure what I could say to him that wouldn't be setting myself up for later grief.

He looked behind him, "Ralof, horse thief, to me."

Ulfric walked - no - strut down the dirt road, armor gleaming in the red light of the sky, fur cloak billowing slightly as he moved. For a split second, I saw Invictus in his way, eyes hard, and I worried that I would have to step in at the last second.

Invictus stepped aside, eyes never leaving Ulfric as he passed.

Yeah, okay. In that moment, with that lighting, I could see a 'King' of some sort.

Ralof and Lokir soon followed, Lokir keeping his eyes to the road as he walked on.

"I owe you my life, mysterious Victoria," Ralof spoke to me. "Should you ever wish for me to repay that debt, ask for the Cloak of Riverwood. They will know who to look for. In the mean-time, I'll be sure to give you a proper title to anyone who will listen; one that you hopefully won't find as troubling."

Despite the intensity of the atmosphere, despite everything I hard learned about these guys, I couldn't help but smile a bit at the sincerity.

"Just try to stay out of trouble Ralof."

"Trouble, I'm afraid, has infested Skyrim. Farewell, Victoria"

As he passed by the Victus couple, Ralof hesitated, before speaking up, "Your next venture is to Helgen, to regroup with your Legion, yes?"

Invictus was silent, but Sevitus nodded behind him.

Ralof nodded back, "Vilod of Helgen used to make mead with Juniper Berries, would sneak me and my sister some when his father wasn't looking. I know you owe me nothing. Just... keep an eye for him."

"We always keep the Empires subjects in mind, Ralof." Invictus said, "Best you keep a move on with that thief of yours."

Ralof just shook his head and continued his trek with Lokir in tow.

I waited for minutes as the group descended. Waiting for that feeling of regret to take root, and was almost worried when it didn't.

So I waited until they had grown small in the distance when I asked, "How much of what they said was true?"

Invictus huffed out a breath, "Not enough for my liking. Dragons... very possible."

"Mhm. And how much of what you said to me was true."

Invictus gave me a look.

"I woke up bound and in clothing I don't own, with people and places I don't recognize. You shot at me like three times. Don't give me an attitude right now."

"For what it's worth, Lady Antares," Sevitus piped up, "I am sorry about being rough with you."

I shook my head, "I honestly don't remember anything prior to waking up in that carriage. Doesn't even feel like what you are talking about is real."

At that, Invictus coughed up a laugh, "This whole bloody day doesn't seem real. Dragon's, a Mage using levitation openly and without any sort of exhaustion, Stormcloaks walking free men once more. My head will be on a pike once this spreads, Divine's will it."

I crossed my arms, "I notice you still didn't answer my question."

"Feh," he waved his hand, "As if you would believe what I said. Not as if I believe your hokey story about coming from a land beyond Tamriel either."

It was my turn to give a him a proper 'Are you fucking serious right now' look, one that I had honed to a craft.

A minute passed before he sighed, "Come with us to Helgen then Mage. As payment for saving my boy's life, you shall be treated as a free woman of the Empire. Ask my captain for his perspective on the damned Stormcloaks, assuming he still walks among the living."

I turned to where he had implied Helgen to be located.

It had to have been nearly a half hour since I last checked the sky, but it was telling that despite the clouds stopping their rapid spirals, despite how the air had lost that overbearing grey filter, that the location of Helgen seemed to be a blazing scarlet in the distance. Orange and reds were reflected in the clouds above, blending in with the haze of smoke to the point it looked more like a painting than a possible travesty.

"Alright," I said, "But we're doing this my way."

 

[Ridtom]

Light 1.5

⊙⊙⊙⊙⊙
​

I remember the first day that I truly let loose with my flight.

It hadn't been when I triggered that day seven years ago. That had been a fib on my part, when I gave my first interview at our local news station, with my trigger event having been both public and tied to my family's fame.

I told the reporters, with the light from dozens of cameras and phones nearly blinding me, that the first day had me overflowing with emotion and spending all day soaring through the sky for as long as possible, and as fast as possible. It was a partial truth.

It had been emotional for me, but where I had implied that it was due to an overwhelming sense of pride and accomplishment, it was more that it was a war with shame from everyone who had been privy to my most pathetic moment and utter disbelief that my dream had come true so suddenly. That almost alien feeling of distance, when I looked down on the world from on high, knowing how small they were.

And none of them could fly up there with me.

No, that wasn't a time for fun.

It was moving place to place in uncertainty, barraged with questions from friends, then family, then Dean. Friends had wanted to know how it felt, how I had changed to be something more. My family had been all about my headspace, figuring out the tricks of my power and hugging me when I needed it most. Crystal was the one who had hugged me the longest, making me more ashamed of how ignorant I had been when she got her powers.

Dean hadn't said much in comparison, and yet he was the one who had me blubbering out all the fucked up feelings in my head after we finished kissing on that rainy rooftop.

Oh Dean.

Yeah, flying for fun didn't feel like a priority at first.

But once I flew on my first 'patrol'? You couldn't have kept me grounded with a ship anchor. The skies had become my domain, and I felt like I had no equal as soared above the city like a watchful guardian. Aunt Sarah and Crystal had tried to reign me in, the former because she had formations in mind and the latter because she liked pretend she was the fastest flyer in the family.

Honestly, I was fine with both.

Because in the skies, above the world and it's fucked up issues, away from my fucked up issues... I finally felt like a superhero. I felt safe.

I just wish my passengers felt the same way.

"Don't look down, don't look down, don't look down, don't-"

"Boy," Invictus growled, "If I hear another word out of your mouth, I will box your ears until I hear Stendarr himself tell me to have mercy."

Sevitus mewled, but was quiet, eyes pinched shut.

Invictus, despite his bravado, wasn't look too hot himself. His tan skin had gone pale, with goosebumps visible along his bare arms as we flew. Where Sevitus closed himself off from the sight, Invictus locked his eyes on the ground below, as if he was just waiting for me to drop them a hundred feet below.

A part of me wanted comfort them, to reassure the duo that I was in control and that there would be no accidental dropping. Another part of me was also still somewhat pissed at Invictus's attitude, and completely livid at my situation on this strange Earth. I felt like I couldn't trust myself to coddle them without snapping at them, like I nearly did with poor Switch, and I didn't think either of them were the hugging type.

Distraction.

"What am I going to expect, greeting wise?" I asked.

"Oblivion if I know," Invictus answered helpfully, "Depends entirely on who made it out of the attack. Divine's help us if we lost General Tulius."

"Divines," murmured Sevitus.

I nodded, "I've heard that name a few times now. He's the one at top? Your boss's boss?"

"He's Skyrim's Governor and spokesperson for the Empire." He explained, "Politically, he's up there with the late High King. Military wise, this isn't his first Strider ride. He's earned a reputation for being the one sent in when a situation has gone bad, during the Great War. It was his leadership that made Ulfric misstep and get sloppy. Losing him is a vital blow to our hold in Skyrim, something that Ulfric or those forsaken Thalmor would be more than happy to take advantage of."

"Whatever the case, best you let me do the talking, assuming anyone survived."

I bit my lip, thinking. Thinking back to the reports I'd read of Brockton Bay while I wasted away in the Asylum. The details that had been clarified by Dragon opening up classified documents to me, thanks to Citrine.

Director Tagg had been someone very much like General Tulius, in purpose if nothing else. He had climbed the ranks of the PRT command, seeing action in quarantine sites that seemed to hone his tactics in the future, earning a lot of rep with how he formulated strategies to dismantle Elite handholds in minor cities. Eventually that led to him taking over for Director "Lady" Piggot in Brockton Bay, which may have been a plot by Coil gone wrong according to Dragon.

I had my own feelings about that, but in any case, Tagg didn't last long before Alexandria went on her rampage and Weaver rose to prominence.

In between that whirlwind of events, I could imagine myself shining a light on questionable actions being taken in my old city. The increased armament of the PRT troopers, outing Skitter publicly within a school on the whims of Kid Cassandra, and the vague interactions he had with Skitter in his final moments. The man was meant to be hard-nosed, actively played that role against villains who wanted to use civility to their advantage, all the while being known for having a gentle hand with his heroes and underlings.

Maybe I was going down the wrong track, trying to equate these situations, where I am the outsider looking in without context.

It was Invictus who broke me out of my reverie.

"By the Divines!"

We had crested the hillside with my flight and a miniature Armageddon faced us.

A pillar of fire and smoke reached out to the sky like a drowning man in search of the surface, turning the sky a shade of red and blacks that brought forth dark memories about the Cracks back home. Below it stood the ruins of what I guessed to be Helgen, faint black skeletons of stone and timber bathing in the orange flames. As high up as we were, the crackling trees that surrounded the small village could still reach my ears.

The air was filled with swirling ash, even as I flew along the outskirts of the disaster, Invictus and his son were forced to cover their mouths and squint. I flew our little group further back and opened the mouth of one of my skulls, testing the heat to see if my unpowered passengers were in any danger.

Warm, but the naturally cold air had diffused it enough that it wasn't unbearable at least.

Invictus coughed as he spoke, "An entire Keep, gone up in flames before the sun had fully risen."

"I could go down there, look for survivors," I said, my eyes already roving over the giant pyre. "I'd have to set you both down, but I think I could wade in there safely myself."

He shook his head, "Don't bother. Helgen wasn't a Keep that had mages and men who could last long in there. Whatever survivors there are, they'd be with the regrouping Legion."

Invictus pointed off to the side, wiping ash out of his eyes with his free hand, "There should be a trail to the South-West and North. South-West leads to some open fields that they might take their wounded as a staging ground, although that might entice bandits or Stormcloak sympathizers. North would lead to Riverwood in the Whiterun Hold, which is more likely for them to travel. It's neutral ground for now, but that doesn't mean those two factors would be completely gone."

"Not to the East?" I asked.

"Not an option," he replied with a slight husk in his voice, "Too open to sympathizers and main Stormcloak camps."

Right, that made sense.

"I'll be lowering us a bit. Let me know if the ash gets too much for you and I'll slow down."

We flew on, circling the devastation as we did so.

The connection my mind had made from that scene to the apocalypse on my world lingered on. I had no idea if it was the Fragile One trying to direct me to a course of action, or if it was simply my desire to fucking leave and find some way to get back home.

Maybe it was neither.

Maybe it was both, as cautious as I was to give Tattletale credit on that front.

But that didn't matter right now.

On Shin I had been brought to a low that I never wanted to feel again, but I had also seen first hand what happened when people with power had abandoned their responsibilities to those who depended on them. I swore then to myself, that no matter how much I griped, I would never allow myself to make the same mistake.

I couldn't and wouldn't conscience myself to abandon people who were helpless and suffering, even if so far my only interactions with their representatives had been less than stellar. To do so was a failure to every aspect of myself that I took pride in, that constantly strived to become better than I once was.

No one to the South-West.

North...

"I think I see them."

"Aye," Invictus wiped more ash from his face, "That's what we're looking for. Stendarr has smiled upon us it seems."

Red banners dotted the road and nearby field alongside white-tents, the fog and residual drifts of ash giving the location a haunted appearance, despite the people moving out and about the ground. And there were a lot of people, easily about fifty from what I could make out from above, almost none of them simply staying in one place.

Scratch that, a few paused as they took note of our approach, before running into another tent.

"Remember," Invictus coughed out, "Let me do the talking."

He paused for a moment, glancing at me, "And stop flying when we get there."

I twisted my head, "What? Why?"

"Levitation Spells are illegal in Skyrim."

I was pretty sure both of my eyebrows were raised to my scalp.

"Never had a good time to mention it. Apologies."

"Well." I said, incredulous, "It's a hell of a time to mention it right now, when I'm literally flying over the camp."

"My Lady," Sevitus whispered, "Can you yell at my father on the ground? Please pardon my language, but I do not wish to vomit over our allies."

Oh. Right.

"Sorry," I said, feeling more than a little guilt at forgetting he was even here.

I lowered us slowly, mindful of Invictus' warning about 'Levitation' and remembering how I had been greeted with arrows by this very faction. We landed without incident, twenty feet away from the tents, and I gently deposited the two of them on the ground.

Sevitus immediately feel to his knees, head bowed to the dirt, spouting off murmurs that sounded like prayers.

"-ever giving us wings." I could make out.

Invictus sighed at the sight, before turning my way. I met his stare, then lowered myself till both feet felt the soil beneath-

Pain shot up my leg and I jumped up a bit, stifling a shout as I floated a foot off the ground.

"Fuck," I said, rubbing my ankle as I lowered myself back down. I was careful this time, gently pressing my foot to the ground, testing it. The pain was still there, but duller, and using my flight to keep weight off of myself dulled it more.

Right. Of course. I still had the scars on my wrist and arm, it only made sense that my foot was injured.

How fucked is it, I thought, That having this injury is almost reassuring?

Another strike against the power induced insanity at least.

Invictus looked concerned, "So you were injured in our escape. And still took the time to save my boy."

I shook my head, "Old injury actually. Forgot all about it in the heat of the moment. Nothing serious though."

He didn't seem all that swayed, eyes looking over my ankle and scarred arm.

"Really, this isn't crippling for me."

"If I've had to learn anything in my time with the Empire," he intoned, "It's that soldiers who ignore themselves, lose themselves."

I had to smile a bit, despite the grim situation.

"Would it make you feel better if I told you I was recently called out for that exact same thing?"

"Mmhm."

He pointed, "Did they say anything about that burn along your temple?"

I ran a hand along my flowing hair, wanting to braid it, "More of the same. I think I can make it work for me though."

He didn't look impressed with that answer.

"Father," Sevitus said, finally getting to his feet.

The both of us turned just as the tent closest to us flapped open. Looking at them now, I could see how makeshift they really were. Holes in fabric where the framing had poked through, the knots around the stakes were loosely tied, and more than one tent had the stain of ash and blood.

I would be lying if I said I wasn't surprised to see a woman in this strange world.

The woman who strutted forth from the tent moved with purpose and power, her footsteps audible as she stomped towards us. Her armor was steel plated with chainmail and leather, a higher class than that worn by Invictus or Sevitus. Her helmet and spauldrons were chipped in places and had some slight scalding along the breast plate.

Design wise, it didn't really compare to my costume, but with the authority in her walk she could easily have been one of the capes leading a small team back home. The same kind of posture and aura that I had seen with Narwhal and Cinereal was abundant with her.

"Archers!" She cried out.

Four men flanked her, spreading out to encompass my group in a semicircle with her in it's center. In eerie synchronization, all four readied their bows, all four steel arrows aimed at me.

Ah, shit. Here we go again.

I let my forcefield unfurl around me, positioning her so that most of my bodies would prevent richochet from hitting Invictus and his son.

"Captain Claudya," Invictus spoke, giving a short bow, arm held to his chest. Sevitus did the same.

Warily, I followed their lead, careful not to upset the bruising on my ribs. No need to flinch and give them reason to shoot.

"Quaestor Invictus," 'Claudya' spoke, "Who is this Nord Mage in rags that dropped you two out of the sky and why shouldn't I fill her with arrows?"

She didn't take her eyes off of me once while speaking, and I was pretty sure that if looks could kill, her glare would be more dangerous than ten times the number of these arrows. Still, I locked my eyes with hers, keeping my expression neutral even with the threat of murder thrown at me.

I had been thinking of Narwhal when I first saw her, but that resting bitch face was giving some heavy Bluestocking vibes now.

"This is Antares, Captain." Invictus seemed unfazed by the interrogation, "A mage from beyond Skyrim's borders. It is thanks to her that myself and Sevitus survived the rain of fire along the roadside."

"I see. And I'm supposed to believe that a kind mage such as this 'Antares', had nothing to do with why only two of my soldiers are standing before me, and Ulfric Stormcloak nowhere to be found? Tell me that he died horrifically Invictus."

Invictus grimaced, "Hogarth died instantly Captain. Ulfric Stormcloak and his allies made a quick getaway into the forest. I do not know whether they survived the forest fire."

It took a lot more willpower than expected to not react to that little fib.

Claudya clicked her tongue, "Disappointing Quaestor. Perhaps this mage has rattled your senses somehow, manipulating you to leading her here, where Ulfric's scum can finish off the dead and dying."

Invictus sigh was heavy.

Doesn't feel so good to be on the other end, huh?

"Captain," Sevitus spoke up suddenly, almost making me jump with how forceful he sounded.

Claudya raised one eyebrow in response.

"Captain," Sevitus repeatedly softly, "Lady Antares injured herself trying to save us. Her own temple burned by a flaming rock when she pushed me out of harms way. It would dishonor the Imperial Legion to not grant her some respite and care."

Everyone was silent, taking in the implication of what he said. I couldn't do anything yet without potentially making things worse, but I promised myself to repay this baby-faced soldier somehow.

I've got your back if you need it.

"You dare try to use my honor for the Empire to manipulate me?" Claudya looked like she was about to spit fire, "I have half a mind to cut out your tongue personally, and then force you to eat it before lending you to the executioner's blade. Even if I did believe in this awfully convenient nonsense about a foreign Mage on a stroll through Skyrim, who conveniently happened to be there to save your lives and allow Ulfric Stormcloak to escape... well, look around you soldier."

She gestured behind her, where I could see the outlines of bodies left on rugs in the open fields, and even more in tents with open flaps. I saw what looked like a nun or priest place glowing hands on a broken arm, watched as golden light surrounded the limb and mend the wounds.

Definitely powers here.

I looked away, shivering.

"General Tulius and the main force have moved on," the irate Captain continued, "All the walking wounded and those lucky to have only superficial burns are escorting the General and the survivors of Helgen to Whiterun, hopefully to convince the Jarl to allow time for recovery and brief asylum. Maybe a stop nearby Riverwood, if they wish. What I have under my command is a skeleton crew of soldiers and people who are too weak or dead to continue the trek north. I have only one Priest with a healing spell, who's close to exhaustion herself. Once she finally meets her limit, I will have to depend on relief from whatever villages the General has sent our way, if they decide to arrive at all."

"I have no time to spare to care for a complete stranger not worth my time nor trust."

Every word spoken was a right hook to Sevitus, leaving him reeling and flinching in response. He had spoken up for me in a moment of righteousness.

The least I could do was put my two cents in.

"How many wounded are we talking about?"

"Antares," Invictus warned.

"I don't recall giving you permission to speak," Claudya said. She seemed almost begging for a fight.

I didn't rise to the bait, "Depending on how many wounded there are, I think I might be able to help. We'd have to prioritize the worst cases first, but it's better than nothing at all."

Claudya studied me, curious, almost off kilter by my ignoring her bait.

"You're not a healer," she accused, "You'd have healed your own wounds if you could."

"I'm not," I admitted, "But I can fly and I can carry people, as you've seen. If we do this right, I could meet the relief forces halfway, maybe even take them up to... um-"

Sevitus whispered, "Whiterun."

"-Whiterun. I'm guessing they'd have more medical staff or healers there?"

Invictus nodded slowly, "They would. The Temple of Kynareth is dedicated to healing the sick or injured. Depending on how quickly they get there, it could make a difference."

I turned to Claudya, keeping the eye contact strong and ongoing. She wasn't ordering my death, which I felt was progress.

"How can I be so sure to trust you?" Claudya asked. "What reassurances do I have that you won't betray me and the men in my command?"

I spread my arms, slowly, "I don't know how to get to Whiterun, so I'd need a guide or two. And since I didn't just drop Invictus to his death on the way here, I think he can trust me to keep him safe as he does so."

"I would," Invictus clarified.

"If that isn't enough, then send me one or two of your men to come with me. If something happens and they don't return... well you know my name and my appearance. I'd be a wanted woman. But every second we spend here arguing about it, means that it's more likely your people will die on your watch. Is it really not worth the risk?"

Once more, everyone was silent, and I could even see the archers glancing between themselves and Claudya. It was frustrating to see her hesitate, even now as people were dying, when I knew just how fucked it was to feel your life drain away as your skin melted from your bones.

Maybe they weren't all that bad after all, but that didn't really matter. Because people were hurt and it was my duty to help, in any way that I could.

Finally, she spoke. "What is your plan, Antares. If it's nonsensical, I'll execute you myself."

I nodded. I had already half-formed my presentation.

"Tell me Captain, how many wagons do you have?"

 

[Ridtom]

Interlude Light and Dark

⊙​

The faceless man screamed.

Or tried to anyways. Where a normal man with full lungs of air might have produced a mighty howl, the sound that came forth from the macabre Nord in front her was what she imagined trying to scream while drowning would sound like.

Blood spewed forth from where his mouth would have normally resided, pockets of air making tiny bubbles as the drowned-scream went on for seconds longer, and she knew the sound of it slapping the temple floor would haunt her dreams that night.

Maybe forever.

That terrified her. More than how bits of his skull peeked out of the red porridge of his cheek, more than how a single strand of muscle fiber held his eyeball off of the marble floor, more than the fact that her father watched on with a lack of compassion at the faceless man. These were physical ailments, things that would leave her periphery by days end that she could put behind her as she played with Ahlam down the road.

But what of the spirit? What about the merciless torment that she will experience when she rests her head to her cot, trapped in a landscape molded by her own fears and insecurities. Would she dream of the faceless man and the blood that poured from his maw? Would she dream of drowning as that blood slowly submerged her being, her screams strangled much like his own?

Yes, she thought. But I could handle a single nightmare.

And if the nightmares never stop? Can I handle that?

She knew the answer.

"Bear attack," her father announced, and she flinched. His voice was deep, authoritative, and resounded within the temple so that it would assault her from every angle.

His eyes didn't leave the faceless man, "His skin is flensed, tendons torn, jaw broken in three places, semi-blind, muscled gnawed off, skull fractured, major concussion-"

On and on he went, describing the grievous injuries inflicted on this poor wanna-be hunter, uncaring of his weakened screams of protest. His voice was as empty of kindness as the temple was of people.

"Step forth, Acolyte Danica."

She did so, small sandaled feet shuffling beneath robes to big for her mousey frame, clacking tightly along the marble. She wasn't granted a hood, not yet, but she didn't think she could ever stand to wear one. As her father stood opposite herself, the faceless man lying between them, the eyes beneath his priestly hood brought forth no signs of one filled with Kynareth's passion.

Had they ever shown anything other than distance? She couldn't remember ever seeing so, but she had heard talk from other children, who in turn heard from their guardians. Her mother had tried to heal a witch of some sorts while traveling and had paid a great price for it. Or she had ran off with a wealthy noble in Falkreath. Or she had died birthing Danica herself.

She didn't know what to believe. All she knew was that not once had her father called her anything other than-

"Acolyte Danica," he interrupted, "You may begin to state your loyalty to Kyne."

She did so, head bowed, "Come to me, Kynareth, for without you, I might not know the mysteries of the world, and so blind and in terror, I might consume and profane the abundance of your beautiful treasures."

The faceless man grunted in pain.

"Acceptable," he said, sounding less than pleased. "Raise your head Acolyte."

Acolyte Danica did as ordered without complaint.

"Heal this man, Acolyte, and you shall be one step closer to achieving priesthood."

There was no joy, no excitement. The man who was her father and teacher seemed to be reciting from a script for all he seemed to care.

Why am I doing this, if you care so little?

The acolyte raised her hands, sleeves falling back a tad bit, and summon her spell. Acolyte Danica had once heard a battle mage claim to her father that using his spells was like flexing a muscle, something that could trained and toned to perfection. That description always felt off to her. Magic couldn't be as simple to define as mere muscle or limbs.

She felt it dwell within her essence, coursing through her mind, and her inner being tap into the physical plain.

Golden light gloriously weaved into existence, sustained entirely within the palm of her hands. If she looked closely, she could faintly see the outline of an orb within, a fragile egg-shell that radiated indescribable energies.

It was the power of life itself.

With practiced care she harnessed the two globes together, the sphere doubling in size as the current synchronized, and focused her will on the poor faceless man. There was no stream, no true transfer or beam. In one moment the light was in her grasp, and the in the next, the man was engulfed in column of light.

There was another spilling of blood as the man moaned, but she could see how the patterns of light were circling around his wound, the movement beneath the glow. She felt the dim strain within herself as her magika began to lower.

"Watch," her father intoned, "Observe how the skin fold back and grows. The blood and muscle restructure themselves in response. Ingrain these images into your mind, so you may always remember why we are needed."

No.

The sudden thought shocked Acolyte Danica, and she had to fight to keep her focus on her spell. An act of rebellion, even internally, felt so... odd. Still, she let the word ruminate in her mind like she might when tasting a particular herb.

No, she thought once again, stronger now. She didn't want to watch the wound, hear the sounds, or think about how her father saw her.

Instead... she would watch the light. She would talk to the man after, make sure he's not suffering from pain of the heart or mind, and then she would pray.

I don't know you, she thought as sweat dripped down her face, But I will help you. Not because of him, but because it's to waste a life she gave us would be to spurn Kynareth's gentle heart.

That, Acolyte Danica decided, was the way things should be.

⊙​

The light was almost blinding as she stepped out of the temple, and not for the first time Danica Pure-Spring was happy for the hood she wore. Her temple was well-lit all things considered, but filtered through dusty panes of glass - something she would have Jenssen handle when he had time - the difference in radiance was... well, clear as day.

The shocked cries from outside had caught her attention, and now a crowd was encroaching on the garden area with the Gildergreen tree. Even Heimskr was mercifully silent for once, staring from his little perch by the Talos Statue.

Floating above the Gildergreen was a Nord woman in rags, long golden hair running down her shoulders. Surrounding her were straps of ropes, easily hundreds of feet in length when unfurled, and two wagons beneath her feet. On closer inspection, Danica noticed how both wagons were tightly wrapped together with the ropes, practically crushing the wooden axle from the stress.

Acolyte Jenssen was at the foot of the wagon, talking to the Nord mage as she floated down, the words indecipherable as the murmurs from the onlookers drowned them out. She pointed to the wagons, where lumpy white cloth was spotted with brown blotches. The stains had soaked in so deep that there was no doubt the whole clothe would have to be scrapped for good.

There was a rancid smell in the air and it only took her a brief moment to place it.

Waste.

Human waste and burnt meat.

She rushed forward, "Jenssen!"

Her treasured Acolyte turned towards her, "Danica! There are dying men in these carts who need our help! Victoria says it was Dragons!"

There were shocked cries all around her, but she ignored them. She knew squat about Dragons beyond stories, so she focused on what she knew for a fact, and that was Kynareth's grace.

The Nord woman - Victoria - was removing the rope straps from the wagon without her hands. As though they were bound to her will, they were untied and tossed aside without her doing much beyond float back and forth a few feet either way. It was a stunning display of mystic mastery, dual casting a telekinetic spell while also sustaining levitation, without even forming the magicka in her palms.

In any other situation, Danica would have been floored to be in the presence of such skill, but there were more important matters at hand.

"How many?" She asked, feeling her spell forming within herself. Jenssen had rolled up his sleeves, the gentle bearded giant taking deep breaths beside her.

Victoria shucked off the last of ropes, "I have fourteen here, and at least fifteen more back at the camp. I'm sorry for parking them here, but we couldn't find the main force and I didn't want to risk wasting time talking to the guards."

We?

On cue, an Imperial stepped away from the wagon, having been obscured by the craft. His armor was burnt at the edges, peeling back in black strips, and his bare arms shone a light red.

Oh. This... might be complicated.

Another Imperial reached over the wagon edge - his armor vastly more pristine - and pulled off one of the white blankets. The harsh smell erupted in front of Danica, but she bore it with the will of hardened experience. Beneath that bloodied cloth, six or seven Imperial soldiers lay prone, undressed from their armor... for the most part. Some unlucky souls had melted leather branded into their skin where bandages had been loosely dressed.

The other cloth was removed, revealing the other half of the soldiers, equally maimed.

Oh Kynerath. This is very complicated.

"We need these wagons for the return trip." Victoria pleaded, "Please, you have to help them."

"And we will," Jenssen spoke and summoned his glowing orbs.

Well. That was that.

Danica called out without looking, "Ahlam!"

"I'm here." Her best friend spoke behind her, "What can I do?"

"Go to Arcadia, get as many minor healing and magicka potions as you can. If she has any major healing potions, even better. Priority is stabilization and removal."

"I won't have to coin for all of that." Her best friend sounded as though she was speaking through a cloth.

"Tell Arcadia she'll be generously reimbursed by our Temple and the Imperial army." Danica glanced at the soldier to her right, "Correct?"

He nodded.

She heard her friend dash away and immediately got to work, golden light appearing at her beck and call. She targeted the injured closest to her, wrapping them in an embrace of life energy.

She could hear a deep breath being taken. Not the soldier, who's wounds were healing but still not complete.

It was Victoria, watching from above.

Danica caught her eye, "You have the same powers."

Powers? "I've trained Acolyte Jenssen in restoration as well, yes. I trust him to do just as capable a job as myself."

"High praise," was the strained remark, but he had already finished his second patient. Said patient was being hauled out of the cart by an invisible force, and gently placed near the Gildergreen.

Victoria hadn't shown any sign of movement during the act, her eyes wide and contemplative as she watched them work. There was a burn at her temple, small but noticeable for it's star-like shape, clearly recent.

Danica turned her healing hands towards her, "Do you need to be heal-"

Victoria shot to the side, avoiding where her hands would have been pointed. It wasn't a huge distance, but the quick movement caught everyone's attention, and Danica couldn't help but be unnerved at how the Nord's eyes never left her.

There was a brief moment of quiet, save for the moans and groans of those who were semi-conscious. Another one was lifted up by unseen forces and deposited gently down to the earth.

"...No," Victoria finally said. "I'm fine. Just, please help them. They need it more."

Danica glanced to the Imperial soldiers who arrived with the Nord. The burned one frowned, but nodded.

Right. Complicated.

There was shouting now, clanking and shuffling from the lower levels. The guards were just now arriving, likely having been taken off-guard by someone simply flying over the gates and walls.

"Uthgerd?" Danica shouted, hoping the crass warrior was in the crowd.

There was a clank of steel to her right, "You called?"

Thank Kynareth. "I need you to work with the Imperials here to make sure the guards understand that they will not be fighting around the injured and that they are under my temples protection at the moment."

"Mhmm. Sounds expensive."

Danica had to sigh, "Do you recall that night with the Nord courier you, uh, charmed a month ago? How you and several, uh, participants came to me for help?"

"...I admire a Priest willing to get her hands dirty. Alright, lets get to work you Imperial boot-lickers. You heard the lady!"

She sighed once again, only this time it felt like actual exhaustion. Her third patient didn't look all that good, even as her healing was completed, but there was only so much she could do at the moment.

He was taken and placed as well.

More shouting and posturing close by, angry and accusatory.

"Thank you," Victoria said, "I hope I didn't offend you, but... just thanks again."

She looked up at the Nord, watching with slight awe as her hair seemed to braid and then unbraid itself behind her.

After the third time, Danica reached into her pouch and pulled out a string.

"For your hair," she said at Victoria's questioning look, "If you won't let me heal you, then at least let me help you."

A brief pause, before Victoria dipped down, reaching out with a scarred hand to grab at the string. She held it for a moment and the next saw it float to her hair, now held at the ready as it was tied together.

Victoria smiled and it was one that could charm a dozen men's hearts, "That does help."

"Good," Danica smiled back and summoned the lights once more, "That's the way things should be."

⊙​

The Elder Scrolls told of their return, according the men who had hunted him, before they were devoured.

Their defeat was merely a delay, which the might creature already knew.

No one wanted to believe they even existed, for the idea of such powerful creature struck fear into the hearts of even the mightiest of heroes. For he was mighty, his scales harder than any mortal blade, his Thu'um rusty but nonetheless capable of crushing those who would dare trespass onto his lands.

But. There is one he fears.

"Rise, now, Mirmulnir."

And so Mirmulnir did, it's sleep disturbed by the tongue of ones total command of all.

The night was brighter than usual, the phase of this plane's Moon gifting the realm it's own ghastly glow for travel. Mirmulnir could smell the spirits of the forest, brimming with fear at the his mere existence.

No. Not his existence.

The Moon was glorius, second only the stars, but beyond either was the deep black of true Power. His dark form splintered the sky with his might, great wings flapping with the strength to shake the nearby trees, his entire being exuding despair and tyranny.

Mirmulnir had enjoyed a time of relative rule over the inhabitants of this ancient forest for hundreds of years, devouring the many adventurous mortals who had dared hunt down the legends he left in his wake. He admired those who came prepared to slay him for honor and creed, and felt utter contempt for those who's only desire was hoards of gold rumored to be his nest.

Pathetic. Gold was useless for him, a mortal concept of attraction to shiny objects given life by their economic evolution as a species.

No, it was far better to have them prostate before him and bath in there devotion. Not something he could afford now, after his kind had been overthrown and thwarted, as worthy as opponents as they had been.

Faced with the resurgence of the one being meant to rule all.... the mighty long-lived Mirmulnir bowed.

"Mine servitude is yours, Alduin."

His Lord landed, shaking the land hard enough that Mirmulnir's bones rattled and the creatures within fled for safer realms. Milmulnir's snout touched the ground, eyes down, as Alduin loomed over him in power and all that was.

"The world has changed, mine Lord. It is not once what is was in our rule."

"My rule," the great Alduin breathed, "Has not changed old-child. The realm has forgotten the fangs of their Lord, perhaps. No longer."

The Lord strode forth and past the bowed Mirmulnir, inspecting it's nest of crushed Dwemer ruins.

Former nest, as the Lord set forth a flame so powerful that it's sheer heat scalded the outer scales of Mirmulnir's body, despite facing the opposite direction of the blast. The forest was set ablaze along with any creature foolish enough to have stayed within.

The fire and flames reflected off of Alduin's sky-black scales only cemented his beauty of Akatosh's creation.

"Cease this existence Mirmulnir. Go North, to the land of men who lack conviction to join one another. Rend their souls, grow strong once again and spread fear into all who oppose my rule."

Mirmulnir bowed deeply, "As you will, World-Eater."

With a might leap that saw him clear the tree tops, Mirmulnir took flight, soaring through the sky with power beyond mortal comprehension.

He would lay waste to all who fought, all who ran to other lands, and any foolish spirits who dared challenge him.

Alduin would rule. No longer a tool for the world to cleanse itself, but it's rightful heir to complete totality.

This is the way things should be.

 

[Ridtom]

Candlelight 2.1

⊙​

Then

I flew down to the Earth, feeling my skirt rustle up slightly as I dipped down, and was forever thankful for taking my Mom's advice about the shorts. Dad still wasn't happy about it, but Dad's just didn't get it sometimes. It was my concession to avoid having to wear the gaudy, full body New-Wave uniforms, and what had sounded dorky then felt necessary when people would constantly look up at you.

It was a pretty stupid thought, admittedly, when the crowd of people below were far more concerned with what was happening below than above.

Said crowd parted after I cleared my throat, announcing my presence and making room for me to land on the sidewalk. My Mom turned to me, her solemn expression even worse with the overcast, but her posture was strong. Shoulders back, back straight, feet spread, hair and costume immaculate.

I hadn't seen any official reporters yet, just random unpowered with cellphones and nothing better to do, but the way my Mom held herself was as though she was at the Mayor's press conference. It made it really hard to actually see her as a Mom.

I may have had the emotional aura power, but Brandish radiated superhero.

"Any luck?" Mom- Brandish asked. Just loud enough that a few of the cellphones turned from the scene to us. I stiffened, feeling a flash of trepidation at people watching - observing - me, camera lights catching me in their green and black light.

I felt my body copy Brandish's stance and sort of hated myself for it. I answered, "No, sorry. I flew around, like, three blocks but didn't see anyone with bloody clothes running away."

"Don't be sorry," Brandish lightly admonished, "Next time we'll do better."

Translation: You'll do better.

I hoped the cameras didn't catch my face heating up. It took a lot to not run a hand through my blond curls, and I was happy my shoulder cape hid a tense fist beneath it.

She continued on as usual, "He won't get away for long. We have a positive I.D. on the attacker thanks to cell-phone video and the victim was able to give us a decent description of the events despite his injuries. Justice will have its day."

So cheesy, I thought, but also secretly loved. Sometimes the best part of doing super-heroics is getting to say stuff that gets put in movies without a trace of irony or sarcasm.

"Do you want me to do another patrol?" I asked, wanting to look and feel like I was actually contributing. "I can watch the video and ask around if anyone has seen him."

Brandish shook her head, "I can't imagine it would help now. We're a hop and step near Empire territory, and he's probably in a designated safe-house, or at least knows the area enough to stay out of sight for a time."

"Then-" I paused, indecisive. I wasn't sure if she wanted me to ask why she had called me here or if she wanted me to figure it out for myself. If it was the latter, then I would be in for another lecture about how I should be thinking outside the box and anticipating what was to be expected of me in the field.

So annoying.

Brandish smiled and my confusion doubled. The fact that it was such a sad smile made it hit that much harder.

"Follow me," she said and turned, the smile gone as the cameras got a better look at her. That wouldn't have looked good for a superhero, smiling at a crime scene.

I floated after her, feeling more and more like I was trapped by the gaze of these cameras, struggling to figure out how I was supposed to hold myself in this kind of situation. Did I continue to emulate my Mom, a stern and robotic presence of "Justice"... or did I try to make my own mark? Prim and proper? Statuesque? Carefree?

I barely had time to actually consider my options when we had arrived. My Dad and Uncle Niel - Flashbang and Manpower - were there, Flashbang crouched down near the victim while Manpower stood and kept people from getting too close.

Flashbang had turned at the sound of Brandish's approach, a serious expression that flickered into rapid-fire surprise, then worry when he saw me floating behind her. I didn't really notice or care at the moment though. When he turned, the victim was revealed.

At first, I couldn't really comprehend what I was seeing. I'd watched movies where men and women were attacked by the bad guys, had stumbled across more than a few crime scene photos when binging on Internet searches and looked at those with an almost morbid sense of fascination. Back then, it had all seemed to be detached from reality.

This wasn't the same.

It was as if he was a Changer trapped in the midst of his transformation from Jekyll to Hyde. One half of his elderly Asian face was normal, full of wrinkles, and his crows feet shined where tears had fallen down. The other half was almost bulbous, deep shades of purple and red along his cheek and lips, his left eye swollen shut to the point I was worried it would be crushed from the pressure. Green and black ichor fell from his nose where it had been wrenched to one side with malicious force, the skin peeling from where the blow hand landed.

No, this wasn't the same at all.

"Is he going to be okay?" I blurted out, the words coming naturally.

Flashbang sighed, "He might have a concussion, definitely a broken nose, but anything more serious will need the ambulance and authorities to tell. You didn't happen to see anyone suspicious as you flew over-"

I shook my head.

He muttered, "Damn."

"What was he doing here? All alone near Empire territory?"

"He was taken, Glory Girl," Brandish spoke, "Eyewitnesses claim he had leapt from the back of a van a few feet from this spot. The vehicle took off, but not before the attacker leapt out and battered him for a few minutes. Eventually, a few people came to his aid and the attacker ran."

I didn't miss that infliction. Eventually.

So close to Empire turf, how many of the people then... how many of the people here, now, watched this happen?

How many of them thought, "Serves 'em right"?

Those utter fuckers.

My fists were clenched so hard, I wouldn't have been surprised if I left cut marks in my palm, forcefield or no forcefield.

Part of me wished Amy was here. She would have been able to calm me down a bit, given me a hug when I really fucking wanted one.

Another part of me was glad she wasn't. I wanted to feel mad, to feel this bubbling anger at these cowardly dick-waffles and all the people who let it happen. I wanted to feel this towards myself, because I clearly didn't do a good enough job in searching around the few blocks, and now this asshole was feeling on top of the world.

Besides, Amy could never handle the bloody stuff anyways. This would have given her nightmares for days.

I met Brandish's eyes. My Mom's eyes. I knew now why she had called me out on this patrol. I had only been in three minor fights since I joined the team, two burglaries and one gang fight between junkie teens.

This was different. Something deeper, more primal, than just petty crimes. This was hate, malice, pure evil.

She wanted me to know exactly what lied ahead of me. To know who was to blame for the Bay being what it was.

"-lein", the man muttered.

I leaned forward, "What's he saying?"

"Had to use a phone translator," Flashbang answered, "He's been asking us to not tell his grandkids in Vietnamese. Doesn't want us to scare them."

I had to blink to keep the moisture out of my eyes. Getting emotional would only make a bad situation worse, if my Mom was to be believed, and I wasn't willing to make this in anyway worse for this poor old man.

"We're going to get him," I said. To him and to me. "He's going to pay for what he did."

It was a promise I meant to keep.

The old man looked up at me, his one good eye still full of tears, but there was a stronger emotion within the light of his eye.

When he spoke, it was in a harsh whisper, "Krasaar ko thdro lein."

I didn't even know if he understood me - I sure as hell couldn't understand him - but I didn't think we needed to. Our tone was good enough.

"Heads up," Manpower practically bellowed, "Brothers in Blue are on the scene."

The cops were finally here, making their way from the patrol cars with their green and black lights to our growing crowd. My irritation at their slow arrival was only exceeded by my excitement at getting more good guys on our side.

"Stay with us Glory Girl," Brandish said, "Listen to how this is handled, and if you really want to help, try to partake in the planning as much as possible. Within reason of course."

Of course. Not that our ways of measuring 'within reason' were in any way similar.

If she saw the look of annoyance on my face, she didn't show it, simply walking towards the approaching officers.

Right. Okay.

I turned towards them, flourishing my cape as I swiveled in the air, feeling my hair bounce in my wake. Superhero mode was set.

We were together, we were united, and we had a plan.

Let's do this.

⊙​

Now

Could you all give me five-fucking minutes?!

From what I could see, there were three main ways to reach this plaza.

Route A to my left. Soldiers from the entrance gate were practically lining up along the stair-case from the lower level leading to this tree-plaza, kept at bay only by Invictus, Claudya's toady, and the female knight named Uthgerd. No swords had been swung at each other, but there was a lot of shouting, and more than a few times I could hear Uthgerd literally guffawing. Which I high doubted was helping to ease the tension.

Route B to my front. From where the Healer... from where Danica had exited from her temple was another road, the same that had been taken by her friend Ahlam to fetch the "potions", which was only slightly cluttered by a small group of guards. These were held in check by Jenssen and a few other men that I didn't know, and from his furtive glances back towards us, I was guessing he really wanted us to do something.

Finally, Route C to my right. Where there was now a small army of guards were just now descending the long staircase at a safe, but also really fucking worrying, pace. If I were to guess, they were probably from the castle at the higher level, and that was probably where the King was. Which probably made them the King's personal guard, and that meant things were definitely going tits up for us here.

My "allies" were separated, we were only united by circumstance, and I had no fucking idea about what to do now.

God, I missed my team. We were far from perfect, but I knew I could trust them with my life if I had to.

Now I was surrounded by strangers in a world that had been trying to capture or kill me for the past... who knows how many hours.

Even a single hour here is far longer than I ever wanted.

Below me, the glowing light dimmed and died down.

"Finished!" Danica shouted triumphantly.

I followed that up with having my arms reach down for the last soldier, gently raising him up and depositing him near the tree below. His wounds weren't completely healed, but that was what the potions were for.

Which, as I watched Ahlam hand him a small red vial, I still had trouble actually believing with my own two eyes. The man greedily drank the tiny glass and instantly his body was wreathed in a spiral column of light. Where burns and bruises had been reduced by Danica, they now fully closed up or faded to the point that they were barely noticeable.

Ahlam had passed around nearly a dozen of these bottles, some larger than others, and still had at least ten more to go.

Instinctively I thought of Cask, the tinker from Anchorage. He was reported to have been able to brew up "potions" as well, his concoctions capable of healing or granting minor abilities to himself and allies. Bitter Pill was somewhat similar, using vials of liquid or her namesake pills to force mutations on the body, some with healing factors. Cryptid was a lot more similar to Bitter Pill than Cask, but the theme was still there for liquid healing and transformations, even I never recalled him actually making others take his tinker tech.

It just didn't fit. Danica had told Ahlam to go buy these from someone, and here we were, almost two dozen potions that all did the same thing.

Just like Danica and Jenssen had the same powers.

No. Because Danica had taught Jenssen how to heal people with that strange light. If she was telling the truth, that is.

But why would she lie about it? It doesn't make any sense.

Help me out here Fragile One. Please.

A memory came to mind, surprisingly abrupt, from some of my earliest studying of PRT protocols with Dean. The same stuff that had kept me almost sane in my stay at the Asylum.

Remember when to Logic past Emotion, and to Emote past Logic.

My emotions were running wild. I had to categorize and prioritize myself. My goals.

I took a deep breath, calming myself.

Yeah, that felt right. I was overwhelming myself with questions, when the simple fact was that I had bigger issues at hand.

I glanced at the approaching guards and my focus zeroed in immediately on the figure leading them.

Hard to see from this distance still, but I could make out ginger-ish hair, and the way none of them dared try to match or beat her pace brought to my mind the way Lord of Loss had commanded the respect of his men. None had tried to challenge his decisions or missions, even remaining loyal despite many of their friends becoming impregnated by Loss's underlings.

I didn't understand it then, and it didn't matter now. The message was received.

This lady was a big deal here, and I was probably already on her shit-list despite never meeting her.

I dropped down till I was just a half-foot off the ground, near where Danica stood.

She was breathing hard, hands on her knees and hood pulled back so she could wipe the sweat off of her brow. Her hair was blond but not as light or long as mine, the back tied into an elaborate bun, only allowing two bangs to fall forward on her forehead. She didn't look old, not any older than my Mom, but there were lines in her face that put to mind someone who had been through a harrowing life that aged her sooner than anyone would have liked. It was hard to tell, but I was pretty sure she was also using black eye-liner.

Her robes didn't really do her figure any justice, but considering what I was stuck with, I figured I could give her some slack on that.

"I know I said it before, but I really have to thank you for your help. You've saved so many lives today already."

I hesitated for a moment.

She's not her. Don't go offending the people who've saved your ass.

That helps surprisingly little.

Danica wasn't Amy, not even close. If anything, she looked like a distant cousin to me. It was the robe and her being a healer that was hitting the red-flags I'd set for myself. I didn't trust powered healing, for good reason, and a part of me refused to give in even slightly to a potential trip down that kind of memory lane.

But I owed her.

I stuck out my hand. She smiled a bit as she took it, the other hand going to her hood, and I had to hold back a wince as she pulled it back on.

When she spoke, she was still breathing hard, "My jobs not done yet. You still have more than a dozen men to return with right?"

I sighed, "That was the plan. But we've got a big issue heading our way."

I nodded toward the stairs, where the Lady and her guard were now visible to the ground level.

Danica moaned, "It's Irileth. Oh, Kynerath gave us mercy."

I felt disappointment drape itself over me at that reaction, "I'm guessing she won't be as understanding about this situation as you have been."

"Not if she's doing her job right," she muttered something that sounded like a prayer.

A thought came to me, "Is she the King's personal bodyguard?"

Danica looked at me sharply, "King? Who?"

I cocked an eyebrow and nodded at the giant castle where the soldiers were coming from.

"Jarl Balgruuf? He's no King, he's just... well, the Jarl." She almost sounded amused despite her previous panic, "Irileth is his personal bodyguard however. Some people weren't comfortable with a Dunmer in such power near the Jarl, but she's been nothing but loyal to him and our Keep."

"Dunmer is her... title?" My eyes weren't as good as Crystal's or even Carl and Mark's at the high distance that I'd seen her, but I didn't immediately notice

"Oh, no." She frowned, keeping one eye as the soldiers grew nearer, "I guess Dark Elf is the term a lot more of those outside Whiterun would call her. I'm not sure what she personally prefers however."

I studied her expression, trying to gauge how serious she was being.

I was apparently too obvious, because now she was surprised, "You do know of Elves don't you?"

"I've... heard of them, yeah. Just not commonly where I'm from." Yeah, mostly because I didn't live in the North Pole or in a children's book series. Hell, Spright had been the closest thing I'd personally seen as someone going for an elf-themed cape. And his was mostly in the abstract.

No. There had been something earlier today, hadn't there?

The Empire is a loose collective of various kinds of cultures, men, beast, and the mer... as unfortunate as that tends to be.

Ulfric.

The mer. Dunmer. I could have kicked myself into a hillside for not putting two and two together sooner.

That meant there were cultures of Men, Mer or "Elves", and... Beast? Now what did that mean?

What did it mean for him to find the Mer, unfortunate?​

"You might have to get behind me, Victoria." Danica spoke in a soft way that had nothing to do with her exhaustion, "Lest she fill you with arrows and ask questions later. At least with me she might hesitate slightly."

My eyes widened at that, just as Irileth came into view.

My first thought was, She's a Case Fifty-Three. Cauldron's left it's mark here as well.

Her skin was a light grey that normal humans couldn't match without a lot of makeup applied, almost an opposite to how pale Sveta was. The woman's hair was an orange that made her skin stand out all the more strongly, framing ludicrously sharp cheek-bones, and pointed elf-ears like out of a Maggie Holt movie.

What stood out the most, however, was the deep red of her eyes. The red was so all-encompassing that instead of what Danica described as a "Dark Elf", I was immediately put to mind of a demon in the mangled skin of some poor woman. The tattoos curving down from each socket to the neck didn't do much to alleviate that initial intimidation factor.

Which was probably the point.

There's no Cauldron tattoo.

That I could see, maybe.

Maybe not.

Mer. Elves. Magic and Potions. Dragons.

Her armor was of high quality, matching only those worn by Claudya, but beyond using leather that designs were clearly different. Irileth's armor was layers of leather and tanned hides belted together over fur lining, her pauldrons reaching all the way down to her lower biceps, with her left side having some kind of neckguard branching off. Brass or bronze pieces of armor served to accentuate the design, with a buckle and chest piece that looked like they could be used to bash in some skulls if she wanted.

A bow was slung across her back, and a sword at her side.

It was the latter that she reached for once she saw me, eyes widening and sneer spreading across her face. I'd seen similar expressions on Ashley, and especially on Damsel, which usually meant blood was going to spilt in some way or another.

That was fine. I had a way of pacifying Ashley's.

Danica was stepping forward, but I beat her to the punch by a country mile.

With my flight as a boost and means of making the transition flow smoothly, I slid past Danica and forward to the pissed off "Elf".... and bowed before her.

There was a stunned silence, the only noise coming from the unintelligible shouts of Uthgerd in the background.

I hate this so much, I thought, which was probably an understatement. I'd been stepped on and pushed around enough times that even pretending to submit like this felt as though I was spitting on everything I stood for as a person.

Lives were at stake though and that outweighed any petty shame, every time. Shin was a thousand times worse than just bending the knee here.

So long as I kept the pressure off of my bad leg and pretending I was making a superhero landing, it wasn't that bad.

I heard the draw of a blade in one second and felt cold steel tap the side of my head in the next. Really cold steel, almost numbing as a chilling sensation spread down the side of my face, my skin breaking out into goosebumps.

Down girl, I felt the forcefield on the edge of surfacing, Let's let this one slide for now.

"Raise your head and identify yourself, Invader." Her voice almost sounded like it had a British accent.

I raised my head and looked into her blood-colored eyes, noting that they did have tiny pupils after all.

"I'm no invader, Ma'am." Best to be as polite as possible, "My name is Antares or Victoria, whichever you prefer, and I came to save these men's lives."

"Generally, Nord of Two Names," she spoke dryly, "People who bypass our checkpoints to land with a company of trained soldiers in our midst would be called Invaders. Tell me why I shouldn't cut you down now and save my ears the displeasure of your voice?"

Good god, I think she is possessed. By Ashley of all people.

I kept my expression neutral, "I would think this city would be able to handle fourteen dying soldiers with no weapons."

"And what of the mage who flew them in?"

I huffed out a breath, "Look at her now."

She raised one immaculate eyebrow.

Right. Not exactly Ashley.

"I really do apologize for this circus I've made, but again, there were lives at stake. I couldn't find there main camp, and I settled for following their directions to the nearest safe-haven."

"Not safe for much longer," she muttered.

Before I could respond to that, she glanced sharply behind me, "Danica you've been wanting to say something. I'm very unhappy with you, so best make it quick."

I heard a deep breath behind me.

"Dragons."

You could have believed she uttered a magic spell, the wave of gasps and hushed whispers that erupted behind Irileth.

Irileth frowned, "What on earth are you preaching Priest?"

"Jenssen told me," Danica said, "He talked with Victoria, or um, Antares here and a few other soldiers. They said that Dragons attacked Helgen. Burned it all to cinders."

The whispers were now mumbled conversations, more than a few helmets clacking together from the news.

"Quiet back there!" Irileth roared and the men behind her stilled, immediately going into attention.

She glared down at me, sword unwavering, "Is this true?"

Not wanting to risk nodding, I simply spoke, "Helgen was destroyed last I saw of it. The men I took here were from the attack itself. Invictus, he's the one by the lower stairs, will vouch for me."

I don't know if it was Dragons though.

But why not? I have an elf right in front of me don't I?

Fuck. Fucking fuck fuck.

Irileth looked into my eyes and it felt like she was looking for some kind of deception.

Whatever she saw, she withdraw her sword and sheathed it in one flowing motion. I breathed easier, happy I wasn't going to have to knock some sense into these people.

"Atticus, take your squad and question everyone here. I want every one from elder to child to be on the report I expect from you. And get those fools down by the Plain Stairs to knock off that racket they're making. Then question this Invictus person."

Without waiting for a signal, a soldier whom I presumed to be Atticus and four others left her party.

"Danica Pure-Springs", she pointed at the woman behind me, "Stay here. I want you with these Imperials for now. Tend to their wounds, give them your prayers, whatever you want. If you need something from the Temple, have Julius and Craena here assist you."

Two more soldiers broke off and passed me by. I heard a faint "Kynerath have mercy on you", before the helpful healer departed.

"Rise, Antares or Victoria, whatever you call yourself. You'll stick by my side and if I even get a lingering doubt about your intentions, I will gut you like a slaughter-fish."

I rose in one smooth motion thanks to my flight, and I saw more than a few guards regard me with some distaste as I float-walked forward. They were already on edge around me, so outright flight probably was the best option at the moment.

Irileth was already striding back, the lines of the soldiers opening wide for her to pass. As I float-walked up to her, they fell in line behind me, weapons jangling in-synch.

How much longer will this take, I thought.

I asked, "Where are we going?"

The elf glanced back at me with a sneer, "Despite my better judgement, I'm taking you to the Jarl's throne. You will explain yourself and the situation at Helgen at length."

I felt a race of fear through my body, "Irileth, I made a promise with the Imperial Captain of these men that I would have them healed and returned as proof as my trust. I left a... a friend back there as insurance so they wouldn't think I ran off. I don't know how long she'll keep him safe from harm."

"Two things you should know, Victoria or Antares." She spoke with an eerie calm, "One, is that if I hear you say anything without my or the Jarl's asking, I will use the tip of my blade to carve up the pretty face of yours."

"The second is something all children learn with a proper upbringing."

She turned back to me one final time, her expression filled with deadly seriousness, "You never make a promise that you can't keep."

Lady, I thought, You have no idea.

My expression didn't betray anything as she stared, once again looking for a hint of what I was thinking. She gave an amused sound as she turned away.

With that she continued her stride, leaving me to follow in her wake.

 

[Ridtom]

Candlelight 2.2

⊙​

Lets assume Elves are real.

Easy enough, there was one walking right in front of me, and she had previously threatened to maim me if I spoke out of turn. Irileth didn't really look like the kind of Elves I had seen in movies like Harry Potter or the Maggie Holt Saga. The former had them be knobby and frail looking servants to wizards, the latter had them be an off-shoot of the beautiful Fae or fairies or whatever. I wasn't exactly knowledgeable on either series, but I didn't recall anything called Dunmer. But there was, striding forth and surrounded by loyal guards, taking me to this "Jarl" of theirs.

Dark Elf. Right. Sure.

Lets assume Magic is real.

A bit harder, but there was some strong evidence that this was true. Invictus had implied that "levitation" had been common enough to be outlawed, I'd seen that Danica and Jenssen could both heal using the same ability, there was the healing "potions" they'd given to the soldiers. And, of course, how everyone kept referring to me as a mage. I felt like a strong argument could be made using some articles on power expression and division using key combinations or loopholes in the system, like the Yangban of old. Yet, I didn't feel confident enough to support that argument.

Magic and Mages. Okay.

Lets assume Dragons are real.

Could I? Could I really? I hadn't actually seen Helgen be destroyed after all, and if I assumed Magic to be real, then wouldn't it be safer to assume that the meteor shower had been some voodoo ritual of a wizard rather than a Dragon doing it? What was the connection to Dragons and a meteor shower anyways? Hell, people here seemed wary to believe Dragons have returned, shouldn't that go double for me?

Only if I ignored that they did believe. Do.

Ulfric, Invictus, Sevitus, Claudya, Danica, and even Irileth seemed to believe. Every time the word Dragon was uttered, it felt like a ripple of fear would travel to anyone who heard it. And while I supposed that the existence of Magic and Elves didn't necessarily mean Dragons were an actual thing, it didn't mean that they couldn't exist at all.

There was a shape in the smoke too. You know it wasn't a trick of the light.

Dragons. Fine.

Still really hard to fucking swallow.

I wasn't sure how to describe it, but I felt as if Elves, Wizards, and fucking Dragons were just so... so... fictional.

I felt like I was ten years old again, ruining Christmas by explaining to Amy how Santa Claus predated the years that superpowers had actually been recorded, so it didn't make sense to believe this jolly fat guy would have been around for so long. A big fight, a lot of tears on her part, and a week being grounded made it clear that I should keep my opinions on imaginary creatures to myself.

Now here I was, in a world of imaginary creatures given life, and I felt like I was experiencing some twisted cosmic joke.

Where do I draw the line?

Did the existence of Dragons mean the same should be said for krakens and minotaurs? Did Leprechauns live under this Earth's rainbows and Tooth Fairies exchange currency for baby teeth? Does magic mean curses and good luck charms were common place? What about if little nonsense rhymes like stepping on a crack really could break a mom's back?

There's something I have some experience with at least.

I don't know if I meant it to come out as humorously self-deprecating or just self-loathing. Maybe I was just losing my mind. Already lost it, thanks to the Stranger Titan.

Now, if there was ever a sick joke, it was hoping that I had lost all my sanity facing an homicidal alien monster, because the alternative was threatening to break me with the volume of questions filling up my head.

How does this world of magic and dragons tie into our understanding of the Cycle, as limited as it is? Are our powers and this magic tied to the same source? If not, then what does that mean for the multiverse at large?

Do you have any answers for me?

If she did, she didn't share them with me. I had to fight the frustration brimming within.

She was on my side. She came to my aid when I needed her in the Shard space, had worked with me as a friend and partner during the ongoing Titan crisis, and had given hints to warn me about the real threat when Amy put me in a bad headspace.

I believed that everyone on the side of good deserved this level of connection, even if I still had some concerns about how much of what I was thinking was actually my thinking.

But the lack of answers to these constantly mounting questions was beyond agonizing.

I showed and voiced none of this internal anguish, focusing instead on keeping my expression non-threatening and flight to keep pressure off of my bad leg.

We had left the tree-plaza as one, methodically marching our way back up the stairs to the castle, and were now upon the walkway leading to it's main entrance. It seemed to be a bridge positioned over a small pit of water, man made obviously enough. I wasn't entirely sure of its purpose, since I was pretty sure a moat was meant to surround the entire castle as a defense, rather than be a medium sized pool in one location.

Not like I could ask about it anyways.

We passed under the high wooden arches without a single word being uttered.

Irileth hadn't bothered to ask me anything during our march nor look my way to make sure I was behaving, which proved she was either really confident or not caring enough to voice her thoughts. Perhaps some combination of both.

Her guards were equally silent, but despite their full-faced helmets I could tell when they would try to subtly give me a once over. It wasn't completely obvious, but the way chainmail would clack when it met their body-armor would catch my attention, and a glance would see them with their head tilted slightly my way so that an eye-hole would have me in their sights.

A step would see them facing forward again, marching on, only for someone on the opposite side of me do the same.

I felt my skin crawl, even though in my head I knew that they were probably making sure I wasn't trying something sneaky, rather than as eye candy. It didn't help. I felt the strange clothing brushing against bare skin, felt the lingering questions about who put me here, and vile thoughts of a dream I barely remembered when I awoke.

There wasn't much I could do to fight it. I didn't trust my headspace enough at the moment to use my forcefield near so many people, and I couldn't fly to isolate myself with my thoughts to sort them out. I felt like a bird in a cage, but that cage was twine and my wings were massive.

Could I break free? Yes, and with very little effort.

Could I accurately account for the fallout of breaking free? No. Hell no. Ethan had told me to trust my instincts during our flirting slash sparring session, and now I did.

And my instincts were telling me that my thoughts were spiraling. Again.

You're here, the memory came unbidden. Cafe. Feel my hand. Meet my eyes-

No café. No hand to hold. No eyes to meet.

But I still took that deep, slow breath of air through my nose. In. Hold it. Out.

In. Hold. Out.

In. Out.

My skin was just my skin. The clothes were just gaudy rags. This whole situation was fucked, but that wasn't anything new. It just was.

I looked to the sky, feeling some moisture in my eyes.

I miss you Sveta. I could really use a hug right now.

Thanks, friend.

I blinked away my misty vision. I was going to talk to this Jarl, I was going to save those men's lives, I was going to get home and I was going to save the fucking world.

Antares, Victoria, Glory Girl, the Scholar, the Warrior Monk, and the Monster all agreed. That was our mission.

We approached the wooden doors to the castle, Irileth barking out, "Open up!"

The large doors were thrust open and we entered the castle proper.

What hit me first was the smell of something burning, the aroma wafting as fresh air from the entrance flew in to mingle with the far warmer temperature of the interior. It reminded me of family barbeques from what felt like eons ago, Mom grilling Shish Kebobs with expert precision and laser knives, while Dad set the tables and refreshments. Remnants of a life and world that had been destroyed.

The second thing to hit me was how surreal it felt to be inside an actual medieval castle.

Much like how the Wardens built their initial headquarters with the idea of emphasizing the larger than life aspects of capes and heroics, so too did the spacious Hall that surrounded us. Not nearly as large, but the tall arcing bannisters of polished wood where colored banners hung, intricately carved columns, grand stone slabbed steps, extravagantly long dining tables draped in fine cloth and lit by silver candlelight....

I honestly felt as though I had traveled back through time, to a world where everything had to be made with pure effort, intense focus and pride in one's own abilities. Because to fail with shoddy craftsmanship would lead to one's death at nature or the nobility that you unwittingly insulted. I wasn't sure about how safe having such a large, indoor open-fire pit in the middle of the dining hall was, but the aesthetic worked.

I was so busy soaking in the atmosphere and style of the place that I had to force myself to notice the people within.

The guards were expected, though few in number as they stood by the great wooden walls or tables. Most of the main force had probably left to detain me, a theory that seemed reinforced with how naturally the group around me dispersed into the room, whispering in hushed tones to those who had stayed within. Only Irileth remained with me, still not looking back to make sure I was following.

Fair enough, anyone else would be suicidal to try something while surrounded by so many guards.

And children. I thought, spying three of them as I followed Irileth around the burning pyre.

They sat obediently at the right-hand dining table, watching me with intense curiosity, while a man who looked like he could have eaten Rain for dinner and gone for seconds glared at me from behind them. Judging from how personalized his scaled armor and horned pauldron were in comparison to the other guards, I pegged him as their personal protection.

I didn't know their exact relationship, but it was probably best to not be seen giving them too much of my attention in front of the Jarl. Still, wouldn't the safe and smart thing be to send them off to their rooms?

I focused on the people ahead of me instead of being bogged down by even more questions.

A balding man who looked like he belonged more in a Pet-store rather than a castle stood on the steps near the Jarl, carrying a sword easily as long as he was tall on his back. His body frame was such that I was legitimately worried that he was going to hurt himself carrying it. His face seemed to going through a storm of emotions, all of them strangled violently by another as they vied for control of his expressions-

Irileth stopped so suddenly I had to use flight to halt my momentum at an awkward angle before I quickly corrected my stance.

The elf turned to me, burning red eyes burrowing into my own blue.

"Stay." She growled, and it was prime Ashley hidden behind that semi-British accent.

Fuck you. And fuck you again for reminding me of her now.

I kept my emotions in control and nodded.

Her face twitched a bit, but she turned and strutted up to the Jarl.

The Jarl of Whiterun sat upon his throne, the leisurely way he was reclined on the seat jarring with my own cliched image of straight-backed royalty from old movies. Older than my Dad, thin but still surprisingly built muscle-wise, blond-haired and blue-eyed like myself. A thick beard draped to his collar bone.

He wasn't laced with jewelry - barring the small gold crown embedded with jewels - nor dressed in an extravagant robe. The Jarl settled for a more functional and slim-fitting shirt, pants, and fur-lined boots. Not even his throne was visually striking, simply a large chair with animalistic carvings down the front legs.

These were all nice things; his clothes looked as though they were some of the finest silk I'd seen, his fur shawl-cape was something I could imagine the more expensive heroes wearing, the crown was beautiful, and even his chair seemed like a nice piece of art...

But they lacked presence and I felt bad for feeling that way. Where I had been struck by the personality built into this castle, the Jarl was so much more lackluster compared to the heroes in my world. Hell, some of the people in this world felt like they carried more presence and power than he did.

Which was probably why he seated himself below the grandest piece in the castle. Above his throne, a skull large enough to devour a cow whole was displayed, fanged maw held over his head.

Dinosaur, was my first thought.

Dragon, was the one that stuck.

Fuck me.

"Back so soon, Irileth." The Jarl spoke, deep voice echoing through the hall, "And with a stranger. What kind of guest have you brought to Dragonsreach?"

"I've brought back the mage who's been causing a ruckus in our city Balgruuf. Turns out she's brought in Imperial soldiers for healing."

Balgruuf's eye's widened, "Imperials? In my city?"

Fuck me.

"They were dying." I hastily interrupted, "I swear I meant no harm in bringing them here, Jarl Balgruuf, only desperation to save as many lives as I could."

Irileth stepped forward, "You-"

"Halt, Irileth."

She paused, clenching her teeth, anger permeating her body as if she had an aura of her own.

Balgruuf stroked his beard, "Tell me, what battle do these Imperials hail from?"

"It wasn't-" I paused, forcing myself to consider how to phrase it and stared straight at the skull ominously perched above us all.

I sighed, "It was Dragons. They've destroyed Helgen."

There weren't as many gasps and hushed whispers as last time, but the chambers amplified the feeling of shock and horror in those words. Even though she'd heard it before, even Irileth seemed to have given up her anger for intense interest.

The Jarl stood up straighter in his chair, "You speak true?"

"As true as the skull above your throne."

He seemed to pale slightly, "Our scouts reported smoke in the far distance, but with the news of Ulfrics capture... by the gods, what of Ulfric?"

Well, I saved his life and helped him escape, and I'm not entirely sure that was the right choice to make now that I'm here.

Mhm. Better not.

"I don't know where he is now," I said truthfully. "I've talked with Captain Claudya, who confirmed that General Tulius is alive at least. The men I brought here were those who were at the epicenter of the attack, and there are more waiting. They might know more than I do."

Balgruuf leaned back into his seat, expression solemn, "If what you say is true mage, then you've done us a great service. Tell me, what is your name?"

I saw a ghost of a smirk on Irileth's face.

Great. She's got a sense of humor. "You can call me Antares or Victoria. I've gone by both names in my life."

Balgruuf frowned, "Either name is fine for you? I must admit, I do not understand."

Ah. I thought. This might be a bit tricky.

"Back in my... homeland," I said, "Antares was a title I had taken when I had to protect the peace and enforce the laws of my city. Many people never even referred to me as Victoria."

Irileth crossed her arms, "So you were some sort of fancy guard? With how uncaring you are of our border protection, I never would have guessed."

She sounds so satisfied.

Fuck her.

I shrugged, "You're not wrong. It was a bit more like a volunteer type of work, but being a guard sums it up well."

Balgruuf still seemed confused, "And what of your strange homeland, where they talk so... informally, if I may say. You have yet to give it a name."

Because it's a world away, hundreds or thousands of years ahead of you in time, where magic and elves and dragons can only be found in children series.

And because we never got the chance to name it.

Fuck me, where to even begin with that fucking mess?

I was saved by a cough.

Everyone turned to look at the bald man with the impractically large sword.

"Yes, Proventus?" Balgruuf inquired with an almost regretful tone.

"My Jarl," he spoke in a stuffy tone laced with nervousness, "I'm just as intrigued by our new guest and her news of Dragons as anyone. But have we forgotten of the little incident she's caused by bringing in Imperial troops into Whiterun?"

"I haven't."

He smiled in a way that somehow felt like a dismissal, "Of course you haven't, Irileth. I just want to reiterate that, by having provided aid to these men, we've opened ourselves up to allegations of siding with the Empire."

"We've turned them down more times than I can count," Balgruuf said, "All the Keeps know that Whiterun is neutral."

Proventus nodded, "I agree. But it would serve both sides purpose to point to this act of 'goodwill' via... Antares, and say that we've all but decided, once word gets out."

Irileth growled, "Then we hold our tongues."

"It's not our tongues I'm concerned with, Irileth."

I glanced around the chamber, noting all the guards and children in attendance.

Yeah, that could be an issue.

"Then we give them something else to talk about." Irileth put her hands on her hips, "Spin the tale so that we come out looking neutral, if we still wish to do so."

"I do," Balgruuf sighed deeply, "I am not deaf when I hear your reports on low supplies and raised prices of materials, Proventus. Tell me, Irileth, how would we change the story?"

She stood and spoke with pride at the question, "We keep the men here, in the Dragonsreach dungeons. They keep company with that foolish Arn, and we make sure everyone knows they've been temporarily imprisoned for trespassing. A few days pass, the Imperials pay a fine, they walk free."

No, I thought with horror.

"It could work," Proventus mused, "Tough, but fair, convey a strong image. Though I note you seem to have made an exception for our Mage 'friend' here."

Irileth regarded me for a moment, "I believe that should be up to our Jarl."

"I agree," said the Jarl. He looked at me, eyes searching as he stroked his beard, "To both of your reasonings. The men will be detained for a period until... payment."

He couldn't hide the flinch as he said it.

Don't you do it.

"As for you, Antares, your talk of Dragons has reminded me of old news from my court Wizard. Farengar is meeting with some of his 'associates' as he calls them, investigating the myths of Dragons as a hobby. I had often ignored his ramblings on such matters, but now it may be more prudent than ever to prepare. I would send you-"

"No."

Dead silence, and I had to admit there was a small amount of pleasure taken from it.

Balgruuf was the first to recover, "No?"

"No," I said, "I can't and won't be sidetracked. Not when I have more important things to handle right now."

"Impudent child," Irileth spoke, shock still in her voice, "You dare-"

"I already told you Irileth, there are people who will die if I do not return with the men I've brought"

I looked to the Jarl, pleading, "Not just the men at the camp, men with skin burned and stripped from bone-"

I heard a tiny 'yuck' from the table to my right.

"-but maybe even the men who vouched for me to save those men in the first place. If I can't return, then that's on me, but I'm taking these soldiers back like I promised. I'm sorry, but I can't be your errand girl."

More silence. Proventus was looking between me and the Jarl, sweat forming at his brow. Irileth was seething, dark muscles tensed.

The Jarl only looked on, deep in thought.

"And," he spoke slowly, "If I were to declare you all trespassers and sentence you to jail time?"

I raised an eyebrow, floating a few inches higher above the ground, "No offense, but you wouldn't succeed."

She was on me in a second and I barely reacted to the blur of movement that was Irileth drawing her blade.

My forcefield came up just as the tip of the blade poked out at my chin, and I could feel that chill creep slightly across where steel met energy field, expressed in sensations beyond touch.

The elf's blood red eyes glared into my own, ignorant of the six pairs of arms that surrounded her, waiting for any excuse to disarm and disable her as a threat. I could hear the guards encroaching on us, swords and shields drawn, armor rustling.

Don't make me have to hurt you guys. I don't want to.

"Halt!"

The sound of boots stopped, frozen by the order.

My aura was radiating from my core, careful to not exceed a certain range beyond the pair of us. We stayed like that for what felt like long hours, faces stern and glaring, neither one of willing to budge an inch.

She thought that if she had to, she could end my life here and now.

I knew that I could end this all in a second.

"Sheath your blade, Irileth." Balgruuf intoned from his throne.

She turned to him in shock, "Balgruuf-"

"Antares has a foresight that I can appreciate, even if her tone leaves something to be desired." His voice didn't waver, but the way his eyes moved between the two of us betrayed some level of nervousness. "Locking them away was never an option."

"And you knew that," I said, "You were testing me."

Irileth looked as annoyed and upset as I actually felt.

He smiled, but it was a tired one, "Always bait the riverbed for Slaughterfish before going for a wash, as my grandfather would have said. I knew you had steel, young Antares, but I wanted to see how it was molded. Speaking of, do sheathe yours Irileth."

She shook her head but followed his orders, sheathing the blade with the same blurring speed that she had drawn it. I had to turn off my forcefield to prevent her from unknowingly smacking a hand. Definitely did not want to start an issue about that.

Still, I reformed my forcefield, feeling more at ease with her enveloping my body than I had since bowing to the Dark Elf.

Said Dark Elf shot me one parting glare before retreating up the steps to Balgruuf, once more at his side.

Balgruuf looked almost apologetic, "Unfortunately, you were correct Antares. In order to save face, and likely my city, you might not be able to return for quite some time. Please, do hear me out still, if you will."

Should I? Absolutely.

Could I? My emotions were high, the adrenaline running even higher, and I had to admit I was pissed.

I couldn't let that emotion control me though. I had to deflate it with logic, note that it wouldn't help anyone if I were to cause a scene here any longer. Like always, I had to swallow that feeling of dissatisfaction for a the greater good.

Still, I let my aura out slowly, emotion seeping into my voice, "Don't test me like that, ever. If you want me to trust you for real. There are no more chances."

I could see the slight change in expression as he digested my words.

"Fair enough, Antares. Let us try this again."

 

[Ridtom]

Candlelight 2.3

⊙⊙⊙​

I watched from above as the ropes were tied around the wagons, invisible hands and teeth finding purchase on the twine and pulling taut to form knots, with more pulls testing whether the wood vehicles would handle the stress put on certain areas. Wood creaked where the stress was too much, and rope was untied then reapplied to better spread out the weight.

Test, assess, retest, apply.

Above myself, a smaller number of extremities worked to form a suitable harness out of the remaining ropes that would fit snuggly along a ten foot body with multiple heads and necks.

It was busywork, but not for me.

I winced as one pull of the rope saw a splinter of wood fall to the ground. Easy there friend. Treat it like you would my hair.

A knot being tied was unraveled, then retied again. Was it my imagination that saw it seem to pause in consideration? A trick of the light that made me want to believe it was moving slower?

No way to really tell, not with the way things were now. Our communication was stronger, but there was still that gap, that door that wouldn't open fully between Host and Symbiote. In a way, it was the same reason that talking to the Titans had been so fruitless, some missing puzzle piece that prevented everyone from getting the full picture.

I looked back toward the mountains from where we flew in from. The clouds blocked most of the view, but there was an unmistakable greyness that was blended into the scenery, ash and smoke mixing into the formations.

Back there, somewhere, I had been dropped into this world and held captive. Stripped of my arsenal, my costume, the things that made up who I was.

More importantly, they had taken me away from my team. My friends. My family. All of them trapped in a race against time as the world, every world, teetered on the brink of destruction.

My team was good, damn good, and I felt like I could trust them to pull through in some of the toughest of clusterfucks. But that did little to help soothe that irrational part of me, that tiny but loud voice who couldn't help but fret about how I wasn't insuring their safety as best I could while I was trapped here.

Everyone that died in the time since you've woken up here, said the voice, Might have had a chance if you had been there. Innocent civilians you've drafted for war will never find the peace they deserve.

You could never silence the voice, not completely, because it was always founded in truth. To say otherwise was to admit that my being there didn't matter, that nothing I did could make a difference for the best, because it was... it might have been hopeless.

I have to get back home. If I don't, I might go insane.

"Antares!"

If I had been on the ground, I might have jumped. Instead I felt my body tense and the ropes pull just a bit too taught, more wood crackling in response.

"Fuck, sorry!" I said, glancing down.

Irileth stood below me, hands on her hips, looking pissy as usual.

I lowered myself, adjust the harness and ropes along the way, manually taking control of the knots now.

"Everything okay?" I asked.

"Only once you've left my city," she said tersely. "In the mean time, could you not flagrantly break the law in my sight? I can practically hear the dungeons calling out for you."

I gave her a questioning look, "Why is flying even illegal? I can think of hundreds of benefits for the spell to be handed out."

The Dark Elf shook her head, "Pick your poison; a noble child falls to his death after his instructor goes lax in his teachings. An attempt to limit some discrimination from Mages to less knowledgeable common folk. Maybe no one likes to clean up after every fool who forgets to sustain their mana with proper potions or equipment."

She raised her chin, "Whatever the case, keep your feet on the ground until you've graced us with your exit."

I crossed my arms, "Look, I get it. You don't like me and I sort of don't blame you. It's a shitty situation-"

She sneered, "Were you raised by Hagravens? Never washed your tongue for your audacity?"

"I don't know what that..." I pinched the bridge of my nose, "My point is that I'm not happy about being here either. I have a home and friends who need me, far away from here."

"And yet, here you are."

"Yeah, here I am." I blew a lock of hair out of my face, " my will. Saving lives of people I don't even know, because what kind of person would just leave them to suffer and die?"

I paused, appraising her, "Or... would you?"

Irileth straightened, her face tense. "Just because I don't have a bleeding heart Antares, doesn't mean you have some moral high-ground. War is an ugly business, and yes, people will suffer and die by the hundreds or thousands. Which is why Jarl Balgruuf has kept Whiterun a neutral territory, where the most we have to concern ourselves with are the occasional bandit raids in the surrounding farms."

"A neutrality that you endangered by bringing them here."

She gestured to the surrounding plaza.

The Imperial soldiers had healed enough to be able to stand and walk now, and though many of them still had faint scars and bruises, none of them seemed to actually be in any pain at the moment.

The fourteen of them were haphazardly grouped around Invictus, the toady for Claudya I didn't know, and a bald guard with an unfortunate hair-style around the crown of his head.

Irileth and I had briefed Invictus about our deal with the Jarl, and now he and what was probably a fellow guard captain were breaking down things to the other soldiers in a similar way.

Does this potion heal mentally and physically? Some of them were half-dead.

"I already apologized for this." I murmured.

She shook her head, "Apologies don't fix everything."

"Yeah, and neither does complaining about it constantly."

Irileth scowled, "You're testing my patience."

I gave her glare right back, "Then leave me alone! Let me do what I need to do so that I can safely take them out of the city, and you can go back to doing... whatever you do in the castle."

"Something more important than you'll ever achieve in your life, child. Living and serving with honor."

She inspected the roped together carts with disdain, "Your departure will bring me great pleasure. Surmounted only by my never having to see you again."

I sighed and ran hand through my hair. I felt the dull pain at the side where the small burn was.

"That's the plan."

⊙⊙⊙​

Earlier

"Your plan is atrocious."

"What's wrong with making sure our city gets a bit more gold to go around in this deal?" His reply to Irileth came out almost like mewling. "Our walls are crumbling as we stand here in a palaver."

"Aren't you the one who tells me to have faith in our castle walls, Proventus?"

"Oh of course my Jarl." Now his voice all cheer. "But there is always room for improvement in certain respects."

I sighed at the back and forth banter, "I'm not guaranteeing anything when it comes to money. The best I can do is put in a good word for you guys, if they even listen to me."

Balgruuf gave a flat hmph, "If they as care about honor as much as they proclaim, the General won't turn a deaf ear to someone who's proven so useful to them."

"But please, give us more reason to just toss you all into the dungeon," Irileth said.

I frowned.

"Calm, Irileth." Balgruuf chided, "The time for aggression has passed."

"As you say, Balgruuf." Still, her eyes looked as cold as her blade when she turned back to me.

Ignore her. She wants to start a fight.

She's making it hard to resist too.

I glanced at Proventus as he penned the letter.

"You're writing down a lot more than I expected." I commented, "I'd think talking about the Dragon attack or this Dragon stone, and healing the soldiers would count for enough."

Proventus clicked his tongue, "Oh hardly. This Dragon business is simply the newest in a long line of troubles we've been facing lately. Why, it only last month that we got word of that Dwemer ruin in Winterhold being caved in. We had a few guardsmen decide that Adventuring in such places was the more lucrative career choice for them, leaving us with a smaller force and more funerals to be held."

"Not to mention the constant requests for more armor by the Battle-Born and Gray-Manes." Irileth added.

"Another friendship torn apart by this war." Balgruuf grumbled, eyes downcast.

"I'm guessing these two chose different sides?" I asked.

He nodded, "Aye, a pair of the oldest Nord clans in all of Skyrim. Descendants of the five hundred companions. Now bitter enemies who can't even have a drink in the same bar without causing a ruckus ending in blood."

Skyrim. I made a note of that. I'd heard it enough times to guess that this was the name of the nation or continent.

I nodded, "Sounds like you all have your hands full."

I could see Irileth's mouth twitch, visibly restraining herself from saying something. Probably a sarcastic remark to me.

"Oh, that's just a small sample of our trials here in Whiterun." Balgruuf intoned, "We've had brief reports from a visiting member of the Vigilants of Stendarr as well. It seems there have been increased numbers of Vampire raids for the smaller settlements of Haafingar Hold."

I paused for a moment, letting my mind catch up to what he had just said, not sure if I heard correctly. Not sure if I wanted to hear correctly.

"Vampires?"

"Aye, you know of Vampires, young Antares? Wretched beings inhabiting the darkest corners of the land."

I let out a long-suffering sigh, "Of course there are. Why wouldn't they be here too

A thought came to me, "You wouldn't happen to have heard of Count Dracula have you?."

Balgruuf frowned, "Not that I recall, no. Should I have?"

"I don't know." I shrugged, honestly unsure, "He was big deal in my home when it came to Vampires. Not really important here I guess, since he doesn't exist.... exist anymore, I mean."

He nodded, "My heart goes out to anyone who has had to deal with the Vampire menace. I'm glad you were able to rid yourselves of him."

I nodded back, not entirely attentive as I considered what I had said.

Count Dracula was a fictional creature... right? I knew he was based off of a historical figure, a king of Turkey I think, but with the existence of this magical world... could he have actually been a vampire all this time?

Fuck me, I am not ready for these kinds of questions.

"Disgusting vermin." Irileth spat and broke me from my reverie, "The fact that they dare openly attack settlements now is unforgiveable. And the stronghold of General Tulius and Elisif at that!"

Proventus spoke up, "Just goes to show how worse off everyone is due to this fruitless war. Ourselves included, I might add."

Balgruuf growled, "Save your incessant lectures Proventus. You'll be getting your Imperial coin thanks to Antares here, so keep that in mind before you complain."

"I complain only to express my care for Whiterun, my Jarl," He rebuked, though not severely.

There were a pair of eye-rolls at that, including from Proventus himself in reaction.

I wasn't sure how to describe these three's relationship honestly. Sometimes their words were barbed towards each other, but never to a point where I felt anything close to dislike or detesting the other.

And was it my imagination that Irileth's defensiveness seemed a bit too... intense for just a knight and her Jarl?

Is she even a knight? Are Knights even a thing here? It wouldn't make sense that they weren't right?

Ugh. I couldn't help finding more and more to be reasons to be confused about this place.

"There!" Proventus proclaimed, folding the letter with a wax seal, "That should cover the costs of the potions, the healing administered by the Temple, a slight tax for the Hold of course-"

"Enough Proventus," Balgruuf interrupted, "Just give Antares the letter."

The old Jarl turned my way as his advisor did so, gently handing me the note.

"Keep that safe, Antares. It may potentially be the first step in your eventual return. Hopefully in better circumstances than these that you've found yourself in."

Irileth spoke, "Or made for yourself."

I had expected Balgruuf to lecture her again, but he leisurely leaned back into his throne.

"Farewell, Antares." He said almost regretfully, "May the Divines guide you to safety, wherever you may go..."

His eyes met mine, "So long as it is not here."

⊙⊙⊙​

Danica approached me, hands hidden within her robe sleeves, a tired smile on her face.

"I look forward to seeing you again, Victoria." She bowed slightly. Or do you prefer Antares?"

I smiled, "Victoria is fine, Danica."

"Not Antares? What's the difference if you don't mind my asking?"

"I-" I hesitated, struggling to phrase it, "It really doesn't matter. Both are fine."

She raised an eyebrow, but nodded. "Then I look forward to seeing you again, Victoria."

"It might not be for a while. Like I said, sort of banned from the City."

Not that I'm complaining.

Danica smiled, "Then let Kynareth bless us with good will until such times have changed then."

My own smile grew. I had been nervous around her, still felt that a bit if I thought too much about the superficial similarities, but Danica had been good to me in the brief time I'd been here. She had stuck out her own neck to save my own, despite not really gaining anything from it.

If only everyone was like that.

"Will you be okay?" I asked, thinking of Irileth's anger, "You're not going to be punished because of me are you?"

"Oh, I'm sure Irileth will give me a lecture after you leave, but nothing too serious. I've helped her soldiers enough through some hard times after all."

I felt a weight off my shoulders at that. "As long as you're sure

"Oh!" She reached into a side pouch along her rope belt, "I almost forgot!"

She pulled out a red vial, about as long as my index finger and only slightly wider. With the way the light hit the bottle, the liquid within looked a lot like blood.

"A token of goodwill from our Lady's temple," she said. "Kynareth shall preserve us."

I kept the smile on my face, even as I felt a chill run through me. It was with good intentions, the best of them really, but what I wouldn't have given to toss the vial as far as my super strength would have let me.

Just as she superficially reminded me of my sister, these vials reminded me of Cryptid and what he had allowed to happen to me. What he had done to me, using his "medicine".

I can never use this. Could never trust myself to this strange magic.

"Thank you," I said, pouring fake gratitude into my voice. "No offense, but I hope I never have to use it."

She waved me off, "None taken. Nothing wrong with having something just in case of course. Or if you'd like to take care of your burn. Just don't wait too long, or else the potion won't heal it properly."

That easily caught my attention.

I glanced at the bottle, "It has an expiration date?"

"A what?"

"Um, it wears out eventually if I don't use it?"

"Oh, no, don't worry about that." She smiled isunderstanding, "It's more that the longer you let a wound remain, the more likely you're inner self begins to see it as a part of you. Once that happens, you're going to need far stronger potions or magic to heal that wound."

"Huh," I said smartly. God, how I wished for a notebook to be jotting this information down now.

A cough caught both of our attention.

Invictus stood beside us, still covered in sweat and grime.

"I apologize for interrupting, but the men are loaded up Antares."

"There's no need to apologize." Danica raised her hands, "May you feel Kynareth's warm embrace in your travels."

He thumped his armored chest with a fist, "And for you as well, Priest."

"Thank you," I said sincerely. "If I can, I'll find some way to pay you back Danica."

She waved me off once again, smiling as she walked back to her temple.

A crowd was forming once again, despite Irileth and her guards holding a perimeter around us. For what it was worth, I respected her sense of public safety at least.

I felt my hands reach out and find the ropes, then the harness as it was placed around me.

"Did you warn them about the trip?"

Invictus grimaced, "As much as I could warn them about the... rare experience of a flying carriage. I'm very concerned that more than a few of them will lose their servings while I'm on board."

"I could always carry you like last time." I offered.

His expression was answer enough.

"Don't worry too much." I gave him a confident smile, "I'll be gentle."

⊙⊙⊙​

I had only just landed the two wagons, the wooden wheels buckling under the stress, when all fourteen men dove off of the sides and onto the ground below. This little portion of the camp was soon filled with the gagging of over a dozen men, most of them were just dry heaving as they'd lost their stomach's sometime within the first fifteen minutes of the flight.

It was just a tad bit overdramatic in my opinion, but I tried not to be too offended.

Invictus hopped off the wagon last, sandaled feet squelching as they touched ground.

"Stop your pathetic mewling you mutts!" He shouted, "On your feet maggots! Our brothers and sisters are depending on these potions, fighting Arkay's caress as we speak, and you're all retching like children forced to eat yer greens?!"

It was a slow process, but the sick men eventually found their legs and began making stumbling steps towards the wagon, reaching in roughly.

"Don't drop these!" I added, "Lives are at stake here and we can't afford to spill even a single drop!"

There was some grumbling and muttering at this, but I did notice they took their time in unloading the potions.

Invictus was hurling more abuse while he directed them to the sick and injured tents, while deposited the ropes to the ground, happy that the Fragile One's knots had actually held together.

A good feeling that didn't last long as I saw Claudya approach with her guard.

"Invictus." I said, catching his attention.

"Right." He rubbed a hand through his short hair, "Right. Let's face the gallows together then."

I grimaced, "I hope it doesn't come to that. I don't want to hurt anyone."

"Never let it be said you aren't confident."

I had nothing to say to that.

Claudya and her troops stopped a short distance away. Thankfully, the bows remained firmly at their backs.

"Captain," Invictus gave a short bow. I followed his lead, doing the same.

She didn't seem to acknowledge him, keeping her eyes on me.

"You've finally returned, Antares." She didn't sound pleased, "I was beginning to think you reneged on your own deal."

I shrugged, "We got turned around a bit. And the Jarl of Whiterun wanted to address you or General Tulius if he showed up. Give you a heads up about some important political information."

My hand grabbed the letter from my fingers, carrying it across the seven foot distance Claudya kept from us.

Unimpressed, she simply snatched it from the air, glancing at it briefly.

"Hmm." She handed it off to her guard, who promptly left back the way he came.

She met my eyes, "Three more have died since you've left, Antares."

I had been shot in the chest, had my heart briefly stopped by electricity, and been nearly crushed to death by a Titan.

Those words hit just as fucking hard.

"Captain!" Invictus spoke rapidly, "Antares did her best to get our men proper medical attention! It was the-"

"It took some time to gather all the necessary healing supplies," I interruptedfeeling cold despite the forcefield. "They weren't prepared for our arrival and I did a poor job explaining the situation to them. They worked as fast as they could with what little time they had. I take full responsibility for that."

I was completely aware of Invictus shooting me a look, not understanding why I hadn't bothered to defend myself. I only hoped that he wasn't too obvious about it.

Claudya crossed her arms.

"I don't think I'm happy with your tone, Quaestor. An hour away, and you're already mouthing off to your superior officer?"

I glanced his way, just as he gave a short bow. "My apologies, Captain. The... flight there and back has left me rattled. Forgive my emotional state."

She rolled her eyes, "Find your boy Quaestor. He's been prattling on to the other men about your harrowing escape through the woods. Go to him before he talks his tongue off."

What is with you and tongues, lady?

Another short bow, "Aye, Captain."

Invictus moved on, not even giving me a glance back as he passed Claudya.

Now she gave me her full attention, one eyebrow arching under her helmet. I matched her with a look of my own.

None of us said anything.

Claudya gave me the impression that she was the sort of person who found it easy - no - natural to separate issues into 'us or them'. I imagine that it might have even been beneficial in the heat of an actual battlefield, when it came to considering what the best options were for her and her soldiers.

Yet I couldn't help but remember just how close she had came to filling two of her soldiers and a stranger with arrows. Threatening to cut Sevitus's tongue out. Her clear reluctance to accept my offer to help.

This civil war that was going on in 'Skyrim', it was tearing these people apart. I haven't even been here a full day yet, but with all differing perspectives and opinions that had been tossed my way, I'd have to have been blind to not notice that much at least.

Whiterun went into full panic mode just from me landing with slightly more than a dozen injured soldiers, going through desperate measures to try to show they were clearly staying neutral, and Claudya's emotions were running hot after dealing with a Dragon of all things.

If she learned about the hoops I had to jump through to get our asses back here, I had no idea how many ways she could go about fucking things up for everyone.

I wasn't willing to risk having her start something that couldn't be stopped.

Dealing with Deathchester had been the same, now that I thought of it.

Could we have beaten them? Yeah. I'd argue that we had been beating them, obviously so, even.

But could I have risked so many lives being lost if Damsel had let loose her power at the wrong time, started the cracks even earlier while Teacher had still been in action?

No. Hell, no.

I didn't feel like I was the kind of person to handle innocent lives so carelessly.

It couldn't have been more than a minute, but the silence between us felt like it stretched on forever.

It was petty, but her breaking it first felt like a needed win.

"What do you want."

I raised another eyebrow. That sounded more like a demand than a question.

She rolled her eyes again, "For your reward, Antares. You aided my soldiers despite your... circumstances, whatever they may be. To not give you something would be an insult to the Imperial creed, despite my better judgement. So. What do you want?"

I found it utterly incredible how someone offering a reward could make it sound like they were chopping of a limb against their will.

Fine. Fuck it.

"Decent clothes for starters," I said. "Some armor as well. A canteen of water and some food. Then a map of Skyrim."

"And?"

I blinked, "And... that's it."

She stared at me, disbelieving, "All you're asking for is some clothes, food, and a map?"

I shrugged, "It's all I'll need for now."

Claudya bit her lip in thought.

She shouted, "Heinricks!"

The soldier behind her stood at attention, "Captain."

"Lead Antares to one of the women's tents. They should have some leftover apparel for her, along with some food and a map within."

She gave me a searching look, "They might not fight exactly right, not without measuring you, but the Imperial gear is made to be slightly adjustable in any case. It'll have to do."

I nodded, "That sounds fine with me. Thank you."

Claudya snapped her fingers and the man named Heinricks turned on his heels, walking away at a decent pace. I flew after him, not wanting to lose him among these crowds of reds and brown leather.

Claudya's hand reached out and grasped my by the elbow. I could feel the faint pressure as her fingers dig into my bare skin, my mind momentarily seeing a red filter in my peripheral.

Don't kill her. I thought, eyes wide as I turned. Easy does it.

Her eyes were cold, like Irileth's, but there was a touch of shadows under her eyes that betrayed her stress.

"I don't know what your game is, Antares. I don't know why you've done all of this... this... charity." She hissed. "But I wasn't born on the morn. I want you gone by days end, do I make myself clear? You aren't wanted here."

I nodded.

She left go of my elbow, but found herself unable to move her wrist.

Her eyes widened as I flew in close, invisible grip on her armguard tight. My aura was at a low thrum, short range.

"Don't ever do that again. Please."

I kept my eyes locked onto hers, until she nodded ever so slightly, her face a mask of confusion and wariness.

I let her go. "Thank you, again. I'll be gone soon anyways."

With that I flew off, feeling my emotions boiling in the center of my chest, unrelieved at my brief outburst.

I tried to keep my expression neutral and devoid of the black thoughts that bubbles up as I caught up to Heinricks at one of the tents.

I must have failed, because he was quick to open the tent flap as I landed, not meeting my eyes.

Within was an older woman, arranging some clothing onto a nearby cot within. She saw whatever face I was making, instantly standing up and brushing grass off her dress knees.

"Can I help you with something dearie? I've got some washcloths and clean rags in the back if you-"

I shook my head, "Clothes and armor please. That'll be fine for me right now."

She was out of the tent in a flash, and I was alone with my thoughts.

It felt good to return the favor, didn't it?

Barely. Maybe if it had been Glory Girl. Now it just feels empty.

I had felt the same way when Shortcut had harassed me after our fight with Oberon and Skadi. There was an underlying enjoyment of shutting someone down, it was only natural to feel some catharsis.

But that feeling was tainted, knowing the kind of person who would default to those tactics. That wasn't being the bigger person like I wanted to be, just the opposite.

The tent flap opened once again, the old woman now carrying folded armor. Faster than I could thank her, she had layed the armor pieces and underlying cloth across one fo the cots.

I was admiring the leather craftsmanship for the top when she brought out the bottom half.

I couldn't stop the cringe at the sight of the leather skirt.

"Please tell me you have pants as well?'