Elder Scroll series 1. An Unexpected Ally

**_This was originally made as a short, casual piece to accompany a follower mod - I consider the second chapter to be the true starting point of the story. Do pardon the immaturity of the first chapter! I intend to refurbish it in time to fit with the tone of the rest of the story. Of course, I do not own Skyrim or the Elder Scroll Series, that is the right of Bethesda Studios. Not to say I'm anything but very damn happy they came up with the wonderful games that comprise the ESS, of course!_**

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**LOST VALKYGG, NEAR LABYRINTHIAN**

"…wake up..."

Where am I? Is this Sovngarde? the Dragonborn thought groggily. Within an instant that notion was thrown into serious doubt as sensation flooded back into his body with a vengeance. He could feel the dull burn of a dozen splinters in his limbs. Attempting to move his back sent a sharp jolt of pain up his spine. Something had slammed onto his head and back with the force of a moving carriage, it seemed. He appeared to be sprawled on the ground.

"...Wake up!"

A female voice, he thought, mellow and mildly hypnotizing. Someone was gently but irresistibly shaking his shoulder. He felt something moist nudging lightly against his lips. Instinctively, he opened his mouth, only to choke on a sudden gush of liquid, spitting out half of its contents. A warm sensation flushed into his veins, invigorating him. The pain abated considerably.

With some effort, he managed to pry his eyes open. Brightness permeated his sight, blinding him momentarily. He squinted again. The glare transformed into little orbs of light, floating around his vision as he tried to perceive his surroundings. As they gradually faded away, he was able to make out the form of a petite girl with jade eyes and copper hair kneeling beside him, staring at him with an expression of concern. Her face brightened into a warm smile as he gingerly propped himself up on an elbow.

"You're awake!" she exclaimed happily. "Ysmir's beard, I thought you were going to stay out cold for a long while... Here, finish up that potion. We need to get moving as soon as you are able to stand."

"W-where am I? This isn't Sovngarde is it? Surely the walls were supposed to look nicer? There wasn't meant to be this much pain, either. Where are the other nine lasses that I am entitled to in Shor's halls?"

"Well I'm glad to hear that I'm placed in such high regard," the girl replied sarcastically, chuckling. "Sorry to burst your bubble, but you've only got me in this sorry excuse of a Nordic ruin. Unless you count the Draugr amongst your heavenly wenches, of course. Though I'd daresay a fair number of people would be as disappointed as you are that you didn't get a quick passage into Shor's Halls.

We're in Lost Valkgg, on the perimeter of Labyrinthian in Hjaalmarch." She pointed upwards. "See that shaft? Nasty piece of business to fall down from the top, isn't it? You would almost certainly have been a goner if there hadn't been those wooden beams in the middle of the shaft to break your fall... The mighty Dragonborn, sent flying down a hole after losing an Ancient Nordic linguistic contest with a Draugr lord – that has the makings of a great story, doesn't it?" she giggled, a little breathlessly.

"How do you know who I-"

"…who you are? Besides the fact that I could hear your little er… _dispute_ with the Draugr about a quarter of a league away - underground? By the Nine, of all the questions on Nirn you could have asked me, you chose this? I mean, how could I _possibly_ have heard of the prophetic Last Dragonborn; the Savior of Whiterun, Harbinger of the Companions, Scourge of the Forsworn, Legate of the Empire and Thane of the Reach?" She smirked. "I've got to admit though, you look a lot better than what I am led to believe... And younger, too. The way people in town have been talking about your deeds… I thought you were 40!"

"All right, all right," the Dragonborn raised his hands in exasperation. She didn't lack in enthusiasm, that's for sure. "You've made your point. But why are you here?"

"To warn you about an agent being sent to dispatch you. Apparently someone in the College wants you dead. Now that wouldn't have been a Thalmor, would it?" She paused. "Oh, and also to uh... come along with you if you are going to enter Labyrinthian."

"Laby-what? Who told you that I was…" His head was still ringing. It made him irritable. "Look hun, I appreciate the help you have given me. I really do. But let's not get ahead of ourselves here. I can do just fine…" he checked himself mid-way. For one thing he probably would have been in a far worse state without her help. He had always preferred being the lone wolf, but he didn't want to look like an ungrateful bastard either.

The girl sighed. "Look, I know that killing dragons happens to be your favorite pastime, but even for _you_ Labyrinthian would be exceptionally… dangerous. I've been scouting around the ruins for a while now, and there's definitely something inside that sounds as big as a dragon, but moves about with a very strange gait... But there's also a voice deep within… feels like it's trying to consume my soul each time I hear it. It scares me. There's an ancient and powerful magic deep beneath the ruins, Dovahkiin... And I think you're going to need some help to deal with it."

Suddenly, a series of cracking noises could be heard in the distance. The Draugr must have felt their presence and were getting restless inside their sarcophagi. His experience with fighting the undead had honed his hearing to the point where he could distinguish that several of them were Draugr lords. He had someone with him now, but the odds still didn't seem very much in his favor

Apparently the girl thought so, too. "We have to go," she urged. "Can you get up by yourself?"

"Aye..." he shuffled to his feet grouchily. Potion or not, his head was still sore. His copper-haired companion followed suit. No sooner had she picked herself up off the floor than she promptly collapsed back onto terra firma, clutching at her stomach. Something seemed to have gored its way into her abdomen. It looked awfully painful. He was surprised he did not notice it before.

"By Shor, are you all right? What happened?"

"Wight. Ice Spike..." she winced. "Bastard got me when I was fighting off the rest."

The Dovahkiin scanned around. No less than half a dozen Draugr bodies were strewn around him. Whoever this girl was, she was one hell of fighter. She must have been defending him while he was unconscious. Her sweet, cheery disposition had belied the fact that she was wounded. Looking back, he realized that her sentences were punctuated by small, pained gasps. She did not just help him, she saved his life while risking her own. But why?

"It looks pretty bad to me. We've got to get that treated right away."

"N-no, it's fine. I tore off some of my cloak to dress the wound underneath."

"No, this won't do - look, you're still bleeding!" he exclaimed. "Do you have a potion you can use for yourself?"

"I uh, I used my last one on you..." she murmured sheepishly.

"W-what?! Hang on, I have one in my- wait..."

He realized that his knapsack was gone. Damn thing must have fallen onto the floor above him when he was Fus-Ro-Dah-ed unceremoniously down the hole. Should have learned the "Heal Other" spell from the Marance woman in the College, he thought ruefully. Quite honestly, he wasn't all too magically inclined himself. In fact, he cheated his way into the College -sneaking in a magika-increasing potion behind Faralda's back just so that he could perform the very basic of spells to pass the application. He had only joined the College because he figured the people there could lead him to stronger artifacts and word walls. And well, maybe save the world again in the process. Yet there wasn't that much of a point mastering a "Heal Other" spell when 90% of the time he was travelling alone. He had given up on taking up followers long ago -they always had a nasty habit of getting in his way or charging into a room full of hostiles when he was trying to be stealthy. That snarky Lydia must have been having a ball of a time having Breezehome all for herself, he mused. Then again she probably deserved the break, considering his… "unrelenting" admonishments of her shortcomings often resulted in her taking a tumble down a mountain. Well, karma's a bitch – thanks to the Draugr he knew precisely what that felt like.

And then there was Ria. Optimistic, kind-hearted Ria. He found her lifeless form near the barricades in the aftermath of the Battle of Fort Greenwall, with an arrow through her heart. It was supposed to have been a straightforward siege until an Ancient Dragon decided to land in the middle of the two armies. Arrows were flying everywhere. He did not see her fall, nor did he know who shot the arrow. In the confusion of battle, it could very well have been his own.

"It's all right. Don't worry about me, it isn't as bad as it looks. I'll make do," the girl assured softly. "We might be able to stumble onto a potion somewhere, too. Here, be a good man, give me a hand." She grimaced as he pulled her to her feet. "So… I heard you're a good shot– you can do us both a favor by covering that door over there. I'll head down the tunnel and see if I can find a way out of this place."

Now that his head had stopped buzzing, he begun to question the girl's motives. She seemed to be on his side, but what was she really doing here? It wasn't simply because she wanted to warn him about the agent. What was her agenda? Did someone send her? Why had she been scouting Labyrinthian? How did she know that he needed to enter it? She could have been looking for something inside, but why did she use her only potion not on herself, but on him? How could she be certain that he even had the key?

"I still don't get it. Why are you helping me?"

"It's a long story, but we have to go. I'll answer the rest of your questions when we get out. All I can say right now is I need you as much as you need me, although you don't know it yet. Do you trust me?" she asked.

"Yes, I can do that. I apologize if I came off a little harsh at first." The Dragonborn bowed. "From the bottom of my heart, thank you for saving my life. You have left me in your debt, and for that I'm at your service, my lady."

She blushed a little at his sincerity; the subtle flush of pink over her lightly freckled cheeks serving only to accentuate her beauty. She really is extraordinarily pretty, he thought.

"Glad to hear it! Let's keep moving," she quipped.

"Here, take my cloak for starters," he offered, tossing her his Imperial Silver. "You look like you're freezing in that robe. Oh, and promise me that you'll let me help you dress that nasty wound once we're out of this Shor-forsaken place, won't you. Wouldn't want my savior to bleed to death before I even learn her name, would I?"

"It's Riza," she replied, giving him a fleeting smile before disappearing down the darkness of the tunnel beneath.

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**A/N:** A short piece following a screenshot and an upcoming custom-voiced follower mod I am doing (you won't find Riza tending to you in Lost Valkygg, but I'm trying to make her first appearance less generic than finding her in Riverwood Tavern). Depending on time I may expand on this story. If you're curious to see what she looks like, you can find the screenshot here on the Nexus mod website : nexusmod-DOT-com/skyrim/Images/442309/?

Of course, any suggestions or critique will be highly appreciated. :)

Oh, and by the way, I have legit DIED from getting Fus-Ro-Dah-ed down the damn shaft in Lost Valkygg before. How I wish Riza had existed for me right then. Amusing on retrospect, but all I could do in that moment was gape at my screen and shove a middle finger at the Draugr Deathlord laughing at me right there. If there was such a thing as _verbal football_ this is pretty much scoring a goal.

Stay tuned in Nexus Mods if you're interested in taking her with you as a follower. She can bake cookies!


	2. An Emergency in Winterhold

**WINTERHOLD, EARLIER IN THE DAY**

The City of Winterhold. "Welcome traveler, to the _Jewel of the North_," jested the few scattered citizens who still lived in the squat settlement, dwarfed by the imposing shadow of the College that lay but a few paces away from the city. Where proud spires of both magical and man-made construction had once soared high above the lolling waves of the Sea of Ghosts, only a pitiful collection of straw hovels could be perceived; remnants of what had once been a bustling municipality.

The town had certainly seen better days.

"It does not snow but it blizzards" goes the common saying between Winterhold's inhabitants. Yet they plow on with their lives and refuse to leave the City, undeterred by the bleak winds and the biting cold. The weather was hard; the people of Winterhold hardier still. They gritted their teeth and moved on, perpetually mindful of their city's glorious history; eagerly speaking of Winterhold's former splendor to browbeaten travelers too weary to do anything but listen to their ramblings over a mug of warm ale in the local tavern. "It was the College," they whispered, that had devastated the city. It had to be. What else could have explained why it alone remained firm in the face of The Great Collapse, if not for foul magickery? They bristled and huddled together in the harsh cold that wood and straw could only do so much to withhold, oft throwing jealous looks to the smooth brick surfaces of the College and the warm magical fires that must be housed within.

_Boom_. An explosion abruptly rocked the earth, illuminating the gaps in the roof of The Frozen Hearth with a sudden brilliance of light. Not a few seconds later, a women's scream could be heard. Several customers looked up in panic. "Damn it," Dagur the innkeeper cursed. "What could _those folk_ be up to again?" he thought, as he hurried outside his inn to check the commotion. It only took a few moments of witnessing what was outside before he slammed the door behind him in panic. A swarm of luminescent, serpentine beings were festering in the street nearby, attacking the nearby locals; products of a magical source, of that there was no doubt.

_Dragon?_ Haran, the innkeeper's wife, mouthed fearfully. _No, _Dagur shook his head, _but get to your rooms_, he frantically gesticulated to his stunned companions in the tavern. He prayed for the safety of his compatriots outside who were valiantly trying to strike at the aberrations, but privately wondered what a few steel swords could do against ethereal constructs so many.

Outside, Brelyna Maryon, a young Dunmer scholar, had her hands full trying to purge the magical anomalies. "Fuck Ancano," she muttered under her breath, "fuck the College. Fuck it all!" With each obscenity she flung a fireball towards a magical wraith that had been advancing on a downed Winterhold guard; it writhed and exploded in a shower of sparks and glowing powder. She had signed up for the College for scholastic pursuits, and had insofar been impressed with the quality of the teachings of its professors, but a series of unfortunate events had swept her into a power struggle between the incumbent hierarchy and a megalomaniacal Thalmor asshole. In the midst of battle, the Archmage of the College had been murdered. "What a kerfuffle I have put myself in," she cursed. Heaving from the magical exertion, she decided to give herself a momentary respite, leaning against one of the wooden cabins and cupping her knees.

But there could be no rest for the weary. Her first realization of her mistake came when she heard the distinctive hiss of a magical wraith behind her shoulder.

The Dunmer hastily attempted to channel another spell into her hand. No time. With frightening speed and accuracy, the magical anomaly whipped her arm away, lashing its tail at her face and striking her to the ground. The blow knocked her dagger out of her belt; it embedded itself neatly in the snow several feet away from her reach. _Shit!_ she thought. The monster was in her face. She had no time to either channel another spell or reach for the weapon in the ground.

Frantic, she scanned her surroundings for help. There was none. Her peers and teachers were engaged in their own battles many yards away from her; too far away to help or notice what she was doing. Her roving eyes found the Winterhold guard that she had saved earlier; pleadingly, she locked her eyes with his own. Whether out of cowardice or prejudice against her College or kin, he looked away, unhelping; consigning her to her own doom.

_That bastard!_ her mind screamed. Sensing their prey, a couple of adjacent aberrations disengaged from their battles and slithered swiftly towards her fallen form. A gaping hole appeared in the bulbous "head" of the first of the mystical worms, revealing what was unmistakably a row of ghostly, magical teeth. _Gods,_ she whimpered, _but I am only a hundred and seven! _There was only one thing left to do.

She squeezed her eyes shut, shielded her face pitifully with her hands and screamed.

From behind closed eyelids Brelyna saw a sudden flash of light, followed by a spray of dust that covered most of her hands and face. The envisioned sinking of malicious fangs into her flesh did not come. Quivering uncontrollably from cold and fear, she hesitantly opened her eyes and saw the fragments of a soul gem scattered on the ground. Something appeared to have caught the attention of the other two magical abnormalities, alarmed by the unexpected demise of one of their kind. Their amorphous bodies rose and fell in contemplation of this new, unseen threat. In an instant, one of them was struck down – _by what? _– bursting into another cloud of magical debris. Sensing imminent danger, the other attempted to scurry away, but it too succumbed to the invisible assailant. Beaming with gratitude, she looked around for her savior.

It was daylight. Yet there was no one else to be found.

Suddenly, she froze, sensing the touch of cold steel pressed against the nape of her neck. A pair of unseen hands pulled her forcibly behind the cabin, out of sight of any of the preoccupied townsfolk.

"Wha…what do you want?" she whispered fearfully, mindful of the blade that lingered at her throat.

"_That which lies between the black and gold…"_ a female voice hissed.

"H-huh? I don't know what you're talking about… but please don't hurt me!" the terrified Dunmer girl pleaded. She prayed that her aggressor did not see the telltale embers of a fireball spell developing in her left hand.

Too late. In a single swift motion, the mysterious woman grabbed her hand and shifted it away before kicking her from behind her knees, tripping her face-first into the snow; the ensuing fireball that erupted from Brelyna's fingers instead finding the straw roof of an adjacent house, enveloping it in flames – yet another piece of collateral damage a College inhabitant has inflicted upon the hapless townsfolk. For the second time in the day the Dunmer girl found herself sprawled brusquely on the ground.

A pair of knees pressed against her back, forcing her into the snow, immobilizing her. The blade returned to its former position beside her neck, hovering menacingly. She whimpered a quick prayer to Azura, wishing she could see who her assailant was before feeling its sharp edge slicing through her throat.

"Ah-ah. Hands on your head, where I can see them. Don't want to do anything stupid now, would we?" the voice sternly commanded. "Now, tell me. What is that which lies between the black and gold? Might you be a friend or a foe? Speak quickly."

"Black and… I don't know! Please, I really don't know! I…I'm Brelyna Maryon, a descendent of the Telvanni family, of… of Morrowind. I came to Skyrim, to the College in the pursuit of developing my Con... my Conjuration! I'm just a student in the College! Please! I don't know what I have done, but I don't want to die! Please don't kill me!"

Her innocence must have rung true, for there was a moment of hesitation, and the oppressing weight on her body was removed. Still, the Dunmer dared not move, for the stranger had not withdrawn her sword.

"Stand up. Look at me. Do not remove your hands from the back of your head."

With great trepidation, Brelyna rose, her face streaked with dust and tears, the blow of the magical anomaly showing through an ugly red welt on her cheek. She cut a pitiful sight. From nothingness, the figure of a petite Nord with fiery tresses unexpectedly materialized; the wisps of arid smoke that drifted around her hand telling evidence of an Illusion spell that had been used. A slight frown furrowed on her fair, freckled face as she doubtfully contemplated her dark-skinned captive. It was freezing, yet she was draped in a simple white robe that boasted of her lithe, shapely figure, with evidently nothing else underneath. A pair of encaptivating emerald eyes searched the Dunmer's ruby ones with startling intensity. In all her hundred or so years she had never met a more beautiful Nord woman, Brelyna thought. Yet for all her previous combat feats the girl could not have seen more than twenty and five summers.

The Nord woman sighed, sheathing her blade. "You're not one of _them._ Sshhh. It's okay. I believe you." She lowered her lashes apologetically. "I'm sorry if I had been rough with you. I'm not here to harm you. I just need some information."

Relief washed through Brelyna in a warm, giddy surge, causing another bout of tears to well up from beneath her ruby orbs. The Nord shifted her toes uncomfortably in the snow.

"Are you hurt?" she asked sympathetically. The Dunmer shook her head in response.

"What happened in the College?"

"A Thalmor mage – Ancano – has unlocked a magical artifact that the College has found called the Eye of Magnus, and killed the Archmage. He is inside the halls trying to harness its power. I think it caused those magic things to appear in the town…" Brelya's head was still reeling from the emotional tsunami that she had been put through.

"What of the dark-haired Nord, with the teal markings across his face?" the Nord inquired.

"Gilrayn? The Elders sent him to retrieve an ancient countermeasure in Labyrinthian. Whatever it is, it seems that they believe it can stop Ancano from exploiting the Eye."

"Labyrinthian!" the fair girl exclaimed. "It is as Azura had decreed. The day of our meeting is here!" Her expression suddenly brightened with purpose, to the bemusement of the Dunmer. An Azura-worshipping _Nord_? Brelyna pondered, puzzled. "When did he leave?"

"About a half hour ago, on horseback," the Dunmer replied. Something about the stranger's countenance or voice inspired confidence, and Brelyna found herself revealing more than she was obliged to. "Wait! If you're following him, be careful. I think someone else is also on his pursuit. I saw an unknown person entering the College before setting off in the same direction. If this person was able to leave the Hall of Attainment alive, he must be an ally of Ancano."

"The Thalmor? Damn it," the Nord cursed under her breath. "Then I must make haste." Placing slender fingers to her lips, she whistled sonorously to the wind.

The whinny of a horse echoed in response. A magnificent white stallion, its fur gleaming in the warm sunlight, appeared in the distance, galloping rapidly towards the pair of females. Within an instant it was at the Nordic woman's side, nuzzling its nose fondly into her shoulder.

"This is Silvermane. My steed," she said; how aptly named, Brelyna thought, as the Nord girl caressed its silvery white fur between her fingers. She leaned forward and kissed it between its eyes. "We need to ride like the wind, my friend," the girl whispered, mounting it. "To Labyrinthian. The day of Azura's reckoning cometh."

"Here," the Nord beckoned to the Dunmer, tossing her a few vials of shimmering blue liquid, "to help you with the rest of the magical constructs. Thanks for the information. I have to go now. May Azura bless you in your protection of the College and Winterhold. We may yet meet again."

"Wait! Before you leave, tell me who you are!" Brelyna shouted.

"A friend," the Nord replied curtly, "of the Dragonborn," and just as swiftly as she had arrived to the scene, she vanished between the lonely, snow-capped peaks of Winterhold.

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**A/N:** So I decided to expand Riza's story further instead of leaving it as a standalone to accompany a follower mod I am doing (which is going nowhere in the meantime, because my friend who is providing Riza's voice is busy). I suddenly have an idea of where I want to bring this story. I apologize if there is a jarring change in style between the first and the second chapters - I wrote the first as a casual accompaniment to a screenshot and the second after actually formulating a story. The story may be moving along slowly thus far, but I promise things are going to explode with greater intensity in the coming chapters.

I've also uploaded a neat little cover picture to accompany the story. That's Riza wearing the fur armor right there. Yes, she's hot. Yes, it's also a shameless way of me trying to get more views!

As always, constructive feedback and criticisms are always appreciated. Thanks for reading!


	3. Following His Trail

**OUTSIDE LABYRINTHIAN**

"Well, here we go at last!" Riza said hopefully to Silvermane as she dismounted the horse. "I wonder what he'll say when I meet him?" For its part, it just looked at her with dejected, obsidian eyes, knowing full well its mistress was going to leave it alone again. Such was its devotion to her that it did not need to be tethered, for she had grown up with it – the only remaining family she had after the massacre of her village nine years ago.

Yet it was not the only creature that shared her affection. "Oh hey there, Little Thief, where have you been all this while?" the girl giggled as a snow fox wiggled its paws earnestly against her knees, a rabbit trapped within its maw. "No, no, take that away from me, I don't want one," she scolded, "run along, now." She smiled as she watched it bouncing off, happily tearing into its meal alone. It had grown to be a most intelligent beast indeed, ever since she had found it as an injured pup and raised it; often helping her sniff a trail; even bringing back a treasure or two. It had grown to recognize her scent as well – no matter where she went, it was sure to be there, sometimes showing up a few days later. Together with her steed, they made two of only a handful of presences she had grown to trust in her life after her grim adolescence.

It was a beautiful day, punctuated by the low groans of the numerous Frost Trolls patrolling the area that had been alerted to her presence. Of course, the usual party was here to give her a more than enthusiastic reception. Welcome to Labyrinthian, she thought.

Like Winterhold, the sprawling expanse of Nordic ruins had once been a great city; though its architecture dated well before the creation of the Empires, back during the age of the First Men. The City of Bromjunaar, the scholars called it; the Capital of the Dragon Cult, yet it had lost all semblance of a former metropolis, save for the large pantheon that sat proudly in the middle of a series of ancient walls. Well-abandoned by the living, it was now home to a large underground network of the sleeping dead. Many an adventurer and a crypt thief had lost their lives attempting to explore the fabled wonders of the primordial civilization buried within – provided they even managed to get past the thriving community of woolly sentinels that loiter across its steps.

Only a fool would traverse this treacherous path.

But the girl was familiar with its perils, and she had an idea of the dangers that lay within its bowels. Seven days and seven nights she had spent scouring the area, observing every crack and crevice, trying to find a chink in the stony armor of the daunting ancient city. She could not access the large intricate door to the antechamber; it was locked, but she knew that _he _would open it – Azura had said so. Azura, who had spoken to her when she had teetered at the edge of despair; Azura, who had given her mission and purpose. She knew that to affiliate herself with the Daedra was folly; that the Daedra concerned itself naught with the trivialities of mortals, who were but casual curiosities in a far, unreachable plane. She recognized that Azura was using her as a means to her own ends. Sooner or later, that was going to come and stab her in the back. Yet the Lady of Dusk and Dawn had supported her where the Nine had failed; opening her eyes to the truth that she had unknowingly glimpsed into when she was thirteen; the terrible truth that had fraught her life with tragedy; that came at the cost of the lives of her family and her womb. She did not devote herself to Azura, though they shared a symbiotic relationship; she was an agent of the goddess, and would commit herself to seeing her mission fulfilled.

_Swish-thwuck! _A fiery bolt whistled through the air and buried itself into the middle eye of a frost troll; the enraged beast bellowing in fury as it tried to dislodge the aggravating projectile. _One eye down, two to go,_ Riza counted. She raised her crossbow once more, and her aim was true. Before long, the air was filled with the tormented howls of four flailing trolls. She did not need to kill the lumbering beasts – that would require a lot more bolts than she had cared to loose. Blind and burning, they scattered in agony, trying to douse the flames by planting their faces in the snow. She giggled at the ridiculous sight as she traipsed quietly past them, almost feeling sorry for the stupid creatures.

She located a set of prints on the ground, still freshly stamped into the snow, and traced it up a stony flight of stairs to an iron door. Her brow creased into a puzzled frown as her excitement turned into confusion – _but this is Valkygg! What an idiot, _she snickered inwardly, _that was not going to lead him to where he needed to go. _Suddenly, a flicker of doubt crossed her mind – _what if he was not truly the one that she had sought? _Azura had told her that she would meet the Dragonborn in Labyrinthian, but Labyrinthian was large, and this was not part of the main thoroughfare.

She left Little Thief outside the ruin, cautiously opened the door and was immediately greeted by a loud rumbling of the ceiling which somewhat dispelled her reservation of the man she was tailing. That was, almost unmistakably, the roar of a_ Thu'um_. The Talos-incarnate was anything but a subtle warrior, she mused. Still, she resolved to test him and see if he was the true_ Dovahkiin_ of legend before she revealed to him her purpose. After all, anyone could Shout with the right training.

It did not take her long to navigate through the depths of the decrepit corridors. He had conveniently cleared the path for her, and she needed only to follow the direction of the Shouts to get to where he was. Heaps and heaps of dead undead were scattered along the floor, testament to the skill in battle of the one she trailed. They excited her, for with each carcass she tiptoed across she gained more confidence that he was the one that had been foretold.

She exclaimed in elation as she finally glimpsed him battling fiercely with an undead foe. Her delight promptly gave way to dismay as she saw him flying unceremoniously down a hole.

Sensing another prey, the massive skeleton turned its head menacingly, greeting the girl with gleaming azure eyes, a hideous smile permanently etched across its rotten lips. She noted the ebony axe in its hand and the large horns that adorned its crown. A Draugr Deathlord. _This was not going to be easy, _she thought.

_RO-DAHHH!_ The unbridled force of the Draugr's _Thu'um_ pulverized into the wall beside her, narrowly missing her as she dodged expertly to the side. She was prepared for it; knew that a verbal salutation was the first thing a powerful Draugr would perform upon meeting an opponent. Her left hand glowed a pretty shade of purple, and she vanished under the cloak of her Invisibility spell.

_RO-DAHHH! RO-DAHHH! _the Draugr Shouted at the air in futility. Confused, it searched the cavern, straining nonexistent ears to pick out where its warm-blooded foe had crept to. But the girl was as silent as death; her skill in stealth sharpened by years of training in the Dark Brotherhood. With a swing of her saber she revealed herself by slicing its axe-arm cleanly off its socket from behind. Her second strike pierced deeply into the hole in its helm as it turned in surprise.

Yet the Deathlord would not succumb so easily, for it was a Draugr in its strongest form. It landed a powerful blow into her abdomen with its remaining armored fist, and she crumpled onto the floor, writhing in pain.

_You have… got to be… kidding me,_ she gasped, spitting blood, as the Undead reached for its axe, completely ignoring the weapon still lodged in its face. She immediately snapped her head to the side, and gave a terrified squeak as the ground beside her face exploded with the mighty swing of the axe. _Too close!_ Thinking furiously, she kicked at the legs of her enemy, causing it to stumble. She was back on her feet before it could recover, reaching for the shortblade fastened to her hip – she would not make the same mistake twice. She grabbed the saber stuck between its eyes with one hand and hacked at its neck with the other, beheading it. The sinister glow in the Draugr's eyes extinguished before its body could hit the ground.

Gingerly sipping on a potion that she had brought, Riza peered worriedly down the shaft that the Dragonborn had fallen into and blanched – it was so deep she could not see anything but yawning darkness beneath. Without a second's hesitation she lit a torch, tossed it down the shaft and leapt after it, channeling a greenish aura of Alteration in her hand as she fell. _Featherfall. _With the grace of a cat, she landed lightly without leaving so much as a footprint on the floor. Desperate to see how the Dragonborn was faring yet blinded by the darkness that enshrouded her, it took a moment of realization before she noticed her torch rolling down the uneven earth.

She scuttled after it, cursing. It conveniently came to a halt beside the decaying foot of a Restless Draugr, which was beginning to stir from the sudden brightness that permeated the crypt. Six pairs of lucent eyes stared curiously at it, and then at the girl chasing after it, and slowly made the connection.

_Well, fuck._

Three Restless Draugr, Two Wights and an Overlord, she counted. Overwhelming odds even for a seasoned warrior, but Riza was ready for it. She closed her eyes, drew a deep breath, and released an Alteration spell known only to a precious few in Tamriel.

_Time Stop. _The world came to a jarring halt. She could not move, and neither could her adversaries; but she could sense where their attacks were going to come from, and plan her moves accordingly.

Skilled as she was, she could not tackle all six undead at once. It was going to be a battle of attrition. The three weaker Draugrs would attack first. One of them was in the midst of drawing out a bow – it must be the first to fall. She scanned the area to see what she could use, and recognized a spike wall just to her left. It should smash right into all three. _Pressure plate, where's the pressure plate?_ She found what she was looking for hidden beneath a clump of moss. _Will it hit me?_ She estimated that she had just enough time to do a backflip after triggering the trap. It was going to be close. The three stronger Draugr would retreat momentarily when the trap is released, giving her time to activate her invisibility spell. She only had enough magicka to maintain it for as long as she needed to take the head off one of them. _The_ _Overlord._ As for the Wights she would have to rely on her physical prowess to eliminate them. One of them was in the midst of drawing its sword. She would have to avoid it as she went for the strongest of the six.

She could not hold this state for long - every second that she remained in stasis placed a further strain on her heart. No matter. She was as ready as she could be.

Time flooded back with a vengeance, and everything was set in motion once more. She brandished her crossbow just as an arrow was released from the Draugr's bowstring; she merely tilted her head in anticipation, letting it glide past her, unfazed. _Her move. _With unerring accuracy she fired the crossbow at the trigger; the screech of grating metal echoing through the catacombs as the spike wall crashed into her hapless foes, sending forth a cackle of dust and bones that flew past her as she pirouetted out of harm's way with all the finesse of a dancer. Bemused by the turn of events, it was a while before the remaining Draugr reacted to the dismembered head of their leader arcing gracefully through the air, landing on the floor with a loud clang of its helm. Visible once more, she parried the swing of the ancient Nordic sword with her shortblade, deftly thrusting her saber into where the Wight's heart should be. _One more to go_.

Yet for all her preparation, the girl failed to anticipate the incoming projectile from her final foe. She flinched in agony - an ice spike had penetrated deep into her stomach. The battle had not ended. She threw her shortblade at her aggressor, pinning its shoulder against the wall. The ensuing delay was enough for her to load her crossbow and release a bolt into its eye, killing it. It was all over in a few seconds. A deathly silence enveloped the room once more.

Panting from exertion and injury, Riza collapsed onto the floor, exhausted. _The Dragonborn, check the Dragonborn, _her mind willed. Biting her lip in pain, it took all of her remaining strength to stagger towards the fallen Nord. A dozen splinters had embedded into his body, courtesy of the broken pieces of wood that lay beside him. She rested the torch beside him; and apprehensively placed her ear against his chest, praying she could hear it. _A heartbeat._ He was unconscious and obviously in pain, but he was going to live. _Thank goodness for the beams; they must have broken his fall. _She breathed again.

She gazed sadly into her knapsack, her worst fears realized. Save for one, all that had remained of her entire stock of potions were fragments of shattered glass. The battles had been too much for the fragile vials. She cautiously removed her hand from her wound, and saw that it was coated with blood. _Not good_, she winced. She only had one potion to spare. It was obvious who she should use it on.

Resting the Dragonborn's head across her slender legs, she placed the vial against his lips, nudging him gently, willing him to drink. He was beginning to stir, she noted with some excitement, in spite of everything. It was the moment she had been waiting for. She reached eagerly for the torch, illuminating him, and saw his face for the first time.

"_Fuck me_," she breathed, her emerald eyes widening in disbelief. For he looked exactly like the man who had rescued her from her terrible ordeal nine years ago. Fate had a strange way of coming full circle, she thought.

* * *

**A/N: **So here goes the first Riza-centric chapter. She certainly went full _Sherlock_ there didn't she? I'm actually more than glad I finally traced back to the first chapter of the story so that we can finally move on with the rest of the story. Honestly I could have given this chapter a miss but I wanted reveal some of her motivations and thoughts while tying back to the DGB's first encounter with her, since all we had so far was what others saw of her.

How old is she? You can actually add up the years and get an answer.

_Time Stop _and _Featherfall_ are in fact some of the spells that I have in my modded Skyrim. They are from the mods _Phenderix: Magic Evolved _and _Apocalypse - Magic of Skyrim_ respectively. Do check them out if you want to include them in your Skyrim - and make sure to endorse their excellent authors!

Reviews pretty please? Bad or good, you know I love critiques! :)


	4. Necrodragon

**LABYRINTHIAN**

The pair had made their way out of Valkygg without too much difficulty, and the Dragonborn left he girl momentarily to retrieve his bag – thankfully, he still had three potions intact. Upon his return she accepted one gratefully, wincing as she allowed him to dab carefully at her wound with clean linen. He did a double-take as he saw Little Thief bounding towards them with a cluster of blue mountain flowers in its mouth.

"Woah there. Clever little guy you got there," Gilrayn laughed in astonishment.

"Picked him up as a little boy. Smartest animal I've ever met," she smiled proudly.

"Well I can't argue with that," he chuckled, crushing the petals into a paste and smearing the salve gently over her wound. She shivered as his fingers pressed gently against the tear in her flesh, assessing it. "It's deeper than it looks, lass," he said, concerned. "There may be some internal damage. You sure you don't want to sit this out?"

"Begging your pardon sir, but don't forget who got you out of that mess back there," the copper-haired girl sniffed. "I'm tougher than I look. Don't worry about me." She stood once more and swayed alarmingly, her face slightly pale. He looked on unconvinced.

"This isn't the time to let your pride get the better of you," he glared, finishing the makeshift bandage with a knot. "You've lost a lot of blood." She returned his scowl with a determined gaze, and he relented. "Fine, it's your own life to worry about, not mine. But take care of yourself. Let me do the heavy lifting later, all right? At any rate, I don't believe I've introduced myself. I'm-"

"Gilrayn, the _legendary_ Dragonborn. Your reputation precedes you, you know?" Riza cut him short with a careless wave of her hand as they made their way towards the large temple overlooking the rest of the ruin. "So, what were you doing in Valkygg? You know that doesn't lead into Labyrinthian, right?"

"How am I supposed to know which door leads where? They all look the same!" he protested.

"Because the right door just happens to be the biggest one in this whole place? You don't have the best sense of direction, do you?" She shook her head in exasperation and amusement. "That's fine. I'll lead the way."

He scowled. "Anyway, how did you know I was going to be here?"

"The Dunmer girl in your College." She sighed. "They're having trouble dealing with the Thalmor mage. Once we're done in Labyrinthian we should head back to help as soon as we can."

"_We_?" he repeated flatly.

"Yes, _we_. You didn't expect me to just risk my life for you in Valkygg, help you in Labyrinthian and then beat feet, did you?"

"I didn't remember saying that you could tag along forever, either."

"Oh don't worry. I'll leave if I don't find what I'm looking for."

"How did you know to find me in Valkygg, specifically? Labyrinthian is big."

She rolled her eyes at that. "You didn't cover your tracks, silly. You were so easy to follow."

"And why would you follow me here?"

"Because of something I saw, and something I know. I was sent here."

Gilrayn frowned. "By whom?"

"Fate." The girl replied simply.

"Hmm."

He could not help but stare at her as they strode together, not simply out of curiosity or concern; but of admiration of her smooth skin, willowy waist, and shapely hips. Time and again he found his gaze drawn towards the visible cleft that hinted at a pair of soft, ample breasts that sat snugly beneath her robe. She was breathtaking, Gilrayn thought; Dibella herself reborn. Her lips curled into a shy smile as she caught him looking – "just making sure you are okay" he hastily reasoned. She appeared happy enough to be strutting beside him, at least. Curiosity and suspicion got the better of him, and he decided to probe further.

"You know, you did promise to elaborate why you're really here back in those caves..." he remarked innocently.

"I'm sorry, but I really can't tell you right now. You'll learn more after I'm done determining something for myself first."

"And I'm just supposed to let you follow me around without knowing your intentions?"

"Look, if I had wanted you dead, I would have just left you as spoils for the Draugr back in the ruins." Riza folded her arms. "I think I've earned the right to keep some things to myself. Please. You have no idea how much being here with you means to me. Just let me tag along for a while, okay?"

"Right," he grunted, slightly taken aback by her earnesty. "I apologize if I'm being hard on you, but one can never be too careful with the company he keeps."

"Don't be sorry. I can understand." She shrugged. "I would be, too," she added darkly, staring at the pebbles on the floor as she spoke.

Something about her eyes made him uneasy. Belying her youthful façade, he could sense within their depths that the glimmer of innocence had long been lost. The eyes of one who had seen death and loss. He could feel them watching him carefully, almost as if testing him of sorts. Was she spying on him? Trying to gain his trust before leading him on some other quest? Was this all an elaborate lie to get him to open Labyrinthian for her before scurrying off with the Staff of Magnus under his nose? Weak from her injuries, he was certain he could overpower her and coax what she had been hiding over the tip of his sword. But she did save him after all, and he was loath not to repay his debt.

He sighed. "All right, I won't ask what you're doing here. I'll trust you. But you know so much about me – where to find me, even. Yet all I have learned from you so far is your name. Surely there's no fairness in that? Tell me more about yourself."

"Sure, what do you want to know?"

"What do you do? Do you travel alone? Which side of the war are you on, and to whom do you serve?"

Riza grimaced. "One question at a time mister! Alright, in that order. I wander Skyrim alone on a personal quest, but I was once a tavern girl, a messenger, and a mercenary for hire. I am no ally of the Empire, but nary do I follow he who sits within Ysgramor's halls. I serve no mortal master, save one who barely knows of my existence."

He stared at her, pondering over her cryptic response. "This master of yours," he pressed on. "Did he send you to watch over me?"

"No. That is of my own accord. He doesn't even know that I've been helping him in the dark."

"Then why do you serve him?"

"Because that is my fate."

_That was the second time she had used that word now,_ he thought. And then it dawned upon him. He stopped and turned towards her, looking her straight in the eyes; his blue orbs reflecting off her green ones as he spoke. "Am _I_ that person?"

"Possibly," she said, unblinkingly.

"You're testing me, aren't you? You're trying to see if I'm really worth following."

She did not reply. He took her silence as a confirmation.

"Why? Why am I so important to you?"

For a moment the girl looked as though she was on the verge of saying something, but a shadow crossed over her face, and she desisted; merely looking at him wordlessly before continuing forward. Suddenly, it occurred to him that her emerald orbs were glistening with wetness as she turned. He must have unintentionally evoked a painful memory, he reasoned.

"I'm sorry, lady. I didn't mean to probe," he offered gently.

She nodded indifferently. "We should get going," she said quietly.

_Well, that's a start at least_, he thought. Her answers had only led to more questions, but he supposed he would learn more later, for something told him that she was going to stick around him for a long while. Together, the two Nords clambered up the tallest stairway of the ruin in the long sun of the evening, the dying rays of light gleaming red and gold off the vast, formidable ceremonial doorway of the ancient city. The sight gave Gilrayn pause, and he whistled in awe, looking at the girl in expectancy. With a small nod she drew his attention to the corrugations that adorned the split in the door.

He extracted the Torc of Labyrinthian from his bag and placed it into the indentation in the stone. _Click! Click!_ He heard an ancient mechanism snapping into place, and turned to his copper-haired companion, who was closing her eyes, as if tasting the wind one last time before they descended into the murky depths of the unknown.

"You ready?"

"As ready as I'll ever be." She opened her eyes and whispered a warning. "Keep your sword close. Whatever it is that lays within, it is going to be big." He nodded in acquiescence. The two pushed against the door and it slowly swung inwards, beckoning them towards a deep darkness in which nothing could be seen, as the first stars came up from behind them and took their places in the pale sky.

* * *

The warm, comforting light of a torch flickered in the blackness, and Gilrayn squinted, readjusting his eyes to the sudden brightness that illuminated the tunnel. The flames sputtered in the direction of the passage, indicating the presence of a draft. It surprised him. The space that lay below must be very large. Together, the pair crept in silence down the passageway, the girl taking point. From a distance, they heard a chorus of creaking bones pitter-pattering across the floor. _Skeletons,_ Riza mouthed, placing a finger against her lips. Suddenly she stopped, causing the Dragonborn to crash headfirst into her back.

"Ow!" she hissed angrily, rubbing her spine.

"Oh, sorry. What is it?"

"There – look," she pointed. An iron gate barred their progress towards the next area – an immense subterrane faintly lit by primeval braziers suspended on an array of great stone pillars. A small throng of skeletal warriors stood in an eternal vigil over the large expanse.

"I think we might have walked past the lever. Think you can get their attention? I've got an idea."

"That won't be too difficult. I think he heard us." She pointed towards the nearest skeleton, which was ambling curiously towards their direction. She carefully trained her crossbow between the iron bars and pulled the trigger. _Swish-thwuck!_ The skeleton collapsed in a cacophony of splintering bones; its disjointed skull conveniently landing on another undead guardian, startling it. The clamor promptly attracted the attention of the other dozen or so skeletons, and they charged angrily towards the grate. "Here they come," she warned.

"Get behind me and cover your ears," Gilrayn commanded. They both watched as the bony figures horded against the bars, flailing swords and axes fruitlessly through its gaps, their targets safe out of reach. Clearing his throat purposefully, the Dragonborn strutted forward. Riza's eyes widened as she grasped what he was about to do.

"No you can't- wait!"

"_FUS-RODAH!"_

The ear-splitting Shout tore across the chamber, effortlessly dispatching all the skeletons and turning them into a heap of whitish rubble. "Too easy," he remarked, smirking as he rubbed his hands together absently.

"_That_ was your plan?" Riza shrieked. "Now _everything_ is going to know we're here!"

_Ro dahhh... Ro dahhh…_ the echo of the Shout reverberated throughout the emptiness of the cavern. Almost on cue, the ground shuddered violently and splintered. From the ensuing chasm an enormous necrotic being emerged, its azure eyes illuminating the hall from floor to ceiling like a dazzling flash of lightning, screaming a devastating cry which shook the two humans to earth.

A _Skeletal Dragon._

The smallness of the tunnel quickly filled with a flurry of frenzied whispering.

"Now look what you've done!" She shot him a disparaging glance. "At least it still hasn't noticed us yet. We might be able to sneak through."

"Not a chance if we open the gate. A hundred septims the rusty metal will sing and alert that damn thing."

"Then what do you think we should do?"

"We can't just wait here, we're not going anywhere if we can't get past it. We need to fight it in the hall."

"How do you propose we take that thing down after we get the gate? Do you have another _plan_?" she offered rather scathingly.

"Come now. Are you forgetting who I am? I'm the _Dragonborn_. It'll be fine! Trust me. We'll think of something as we go. Now go get the lever."

"Not now! It's _right in front_ of us! I think it sees us!"

The Nords stiffened, still as stone, as the hulking mass of bone lumbered towards them. Failing to notice her warning glance, Riza risked a desperate hiss of warning to the Dragonborn. "The torch! Snuff out the torch!" Gilrayn flung the aggravating piece of wood back into the tunnel. The movement did not go unnoticed by the monster, which sauntered suspiciously forward. Exit was impossible now. They waited with bated breaths, bow and crossbow in hand, as it reared its head ominously towards the grate and stared into the hollow darkness of the tunnel with eyes of fiery sapphire.

"Get down!" Gilrayn cried, throwing his body on top of the girl with reflexes as quick as a cat. An icy wave blasted through the tunnel, coating the wall behind them in a sheet of shimmering crystals. The skeletal dragon had no lungs, but clearly it could Shout like its blooded brethren.

"Thanks..." Riza mumbled, blushing slightly; feeling his warm breath over her cheeks, their faces but inches away from the other. The Frost Breath of the undead creature roared relentlessly behind the Nords, who lay atop each other like lovers, safe behind the cover of the wall. "So, what do we do now?" she asked again, more subdued this time.

The Dragonborn willed his breath to calmness, trying to assess the situation; but the supple breasts that pressed against his forearms through her robe made thinking difficult. Reflexively, he rolled over her body before she could notice his rising member and peered cautiously at the foyer, only to be greeted by a blast of frigid air. The lever to the gate lay on the other side of the wall. "We need to pull the lever on that side, but I can't believe it will just let us pass if it sees us trying to get over," he said, raising his voice over the whir of the freezing wind. "But I can block out most of its breath with my shield. Just sit tight and get ready as I pull the switch."

"I'll get the lever," she interrupted. "Be prepared to bail once the grate is down."

He replied with an expression of consternation. "I can't let you do that. You'll freeze to death crossing over there in those piteous wraps." Already he felt the hairs on his back standing from the rapidly dwindling heat, and he could sense the girl quivering beside him through her skinny garments.

"Don't worry about me. It's easy. Watch." Gilrayn gazed in wonder as the girl vanished from his sight and reappeared promptly on the other side of the tunnel, flashing him a cheeky grin. Triumphantly, she pushed against the lever; but budge it would not, even when she leant the entirety of her weight on it.

"It wouldn't move." She grimaced. "The ice must be hindering the mechanism."

He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "I've got an idea. Keep it breathing at the gate." She gave him a quizzical frown, but nodded in affirmation. One after another they flitted in and out of the dragon's view, provoking the beast. It bellowed in fury, sending forth blast after blast of icicles that supercooled the metal grate, brittling it. The exposed walls of the tunnel were beginning to resemble the interior of a glacial cave; the floor slick with the sheen of slippery ice. The Dragonborn waited purposefully, his muscles tensed in chill and anticipation. With a battle cry to the heavens he brandished his laminated hide shield and charged straight into the biting wind.

"_FUS-RODAH!"_ He unleashed his Thu'um once more at the grate, only this time with greater power. The brittle bars twisted and sundered in a blinding mist of shards and icy vapor, causing the skeletal dragon to recoil in astonishment. A frosty veil enveloped the opened way into the cavernous chamber. "Now! Go go go!" Gilrayn yelled as he advanced, turning momentarily to look at his companion – and quite suddenly realized that she was not there. He did not have time to ruminate that fact before he found himself staring right into the mouth of the bony colossus.

Blinded by the ensuing fog, the skeletal dragon snapped wildly at the air, trying to crush the aggravating little fly in its massive maw. Gilrayn simply rolled adroitly to the side as its jaws chomped down repeatedly, hacking away with his sword, weaving in and out of its reach. His reputation as a dragonslayer did not flatter him. Block, parry, slash; block, parry, slash; his sword and shield whirled in the familiar, deadly dance of combat. His swordplay was sharp and precise; his resolve untested by fear – for this was an opponent whose pattern of attacks he was well-acquainted with, and that knowledge eased him. Against a beast of such size he held the advantage of mobility. With the spinning leap of an acrobat he avoided an incoming blast of frost; deflected with his shield the ravenous bite that followed, and lunged directly at the creature's skull.

But steel could not penetrate bone, and the skeletal dragon had no vital organs that he could exploit as points of vulnerabilities. For all his efforts, he had only achieved riling his opponent with a series of shallow cuts and chipped bone. No, this was no adversary mere bladework could hope to defeat. With each futile stroke he grew more wary of the slickness of his grip – his exertions had made him sweat. He cursed inwardly. Even the slightest slip of his grip against an enemy like this could be fatal. He needed to think of another tactic, and quickly; for the fog that had camouflaged his attacks was also beginning to dissipate into the wind.

Suddenly, the dragon turned and withdrew, distracted by the presence of another foe. From behind it Gilrayn espied a few flaming projectiles raining down upon its back, compelling it to shrink back, plainly in distress. The creature was afraid of fire! He squinted again and saw from beyond the thinning mist a dark, feminine figure firing bolt after fiery bolt determinedly at the prehistoric being from the vantage point atop a tall pillar. Thank the Nine for Riza, he thought. How she got up there he did not know, but she must have cut behind the dragon while he was busy trading blows with it after the destruction of the grate.

Yet her bolts did little more than alarm the beast. They simply deflected harmlessly off its hardened exterior and clattered one after another onto the floor. Without the presence of a scaly membrane between its skeletal forelimbs, the dragon could not fly and engage her directly; instead, it lashed powerfully at the stone pillar that she stood upon with its massive tail, collapsing it. Skulls and bones, flagons and bowls scattered into the air as the mighty stone column fell, shattering onto the floor in a great upheaval of dust and debris.

"Riza! Riza answer me!" Gilrayn called hoarsely in trepidation, fearful of her safety. But his voice only succeeded in drawing the attention of the monster, and it lurched towards him with renewed vigor. His navy eyes stung from the great plume of dust, and he could barely make out his surroundings through the haze; but instincts that he had grown to trust over his years of battles warned him of impending danger, and he raised his shield intuitively as a prodigious white claw struck him from without, hurtling him easily into a wall. A trickle of blood ran down his face and dribbled into his right eye, obscuring his vision. Winded and shaking his head desperately to clear the innumerable stars that swam in his sight, he groped for his shield and realized that it had been dislodged from his hand. Through his stupor he glimpsed the silhouette of the massive creature rearing its jaws to finish the job – and for the first time in a long while his cockiness fled and he tasted bitter fear. Yet he was not bereft of options. Praying to the gods that his revelation was true, he summoned his courage and screamed three Words.

"_YOL TOOR SHUL"_

A blast of fire sprang forth from his mouth, enveloping the snout of the skeletal dragon with a pall of licking flames. Roaring in agony, it recoiled, swinging its head to and fro in its attempts to quell the conflagration. Yet for some reason the arid ancient bones failed to ignite consistently, and with a sinking feeling Gilrayn understood – the icy mist that had enshrouded them earlier had condensed and formed a protective layer of moisture over the monster. Angered by the tenacity of its foe, the dragon returned his _thu'um_ with an icy rejoinder of its own. He held no shield, but raised his hands in defense anyway, resigning himself to fate as the first flakes of the Frost Breath began to fall.

But the deluge that he had expected did not come. He watched instead in amazement as Riza leapt nimbly onto the skeletal dragon, straddled its spiny back and stuck her blade into its vertebrae, forcing the surge of frost to shoot upwards. Flecks of ice cascaded from the ceiling like soft, falling snow, draping the floor with a single, lustrous carpet of white. The dragon lurched wildly in frustration, trying to displace the aggravating human on its back. The maiden did not manage to hold this precarious position for long, and soon she too was flung onto the ground. It bore down on her with unbridled fury, trapping her under an immense claw. She struggled to free herself without avail, and stifled a cry of pain as she felt its talons digging lightly into her flesh, drawing blood. Then, for the first time in the battle, with the same booming voice that it shared among its ilk, the ageless being spoke.

"_Joor. Hi krif pruzah, nuz nu hi kent dir."_

_Mortal. You have fought well, but now you must perish._

Riza squeezed her eyes shut and braced herself, preparing to feel the sharp claws rending her body into pieces. Yet the next thing she heard was a mysterious shattering of glass. "Shoot it! Shoot it!" the Dragonborn yelled. She opened her eyes and saw numerous bottles sailing through the air, smashing indiscriminately into various parts of the living fossil, staining the white bones with a mysterious dark fluid. Perplexed by the action, it looked about distractedly. While her valiant efforts did little to damage the beast, she had bought Gilrayn precious seconds to contrive another tactic. He had reached into his bag and found a few bottles with the label _"Black-Briar Mead"._ That the swill was disgusting was an understatement, but here it would fulfil a nobler purpose than filling the bladder of Embry of Riverwood. Still, Riza could not move, for the dragon's oppressive weight still anchored her to the earth. But her arms were free, and she reached for her flame-enchanted crossbow and released the trigger. The fiery bolt soared gracefully into the air and landed squarely in the middle of the two gleaming eyes of deepest blue.

With a final tormented cry the skeletal dragon writhed in agony as its entirety combusted in a blazing inferno. Gilrayn made a beeline for his shield and sprinted towards the girl, pulling her to safety; throwing his cloak around her protectively and raising his shield just as the flaming mass came crashing down upon them. _"FO KRAH DIIN" _he Shouted above. Frost met with fire, turning into little pearls of water that pattered cold and wet onto his skin, assuaging his senses, washing away the blood that caked the right side of his face. He removed his cloak from the girl and allowed the comforting rain to fall lightly onto her, invigorating her. There she lay for a while, closing her eyes, propping up her glistening body with her elbows on the floor. Still heaving slightly from the adrenaline, Gilrayn spoke.

"Now that was something, wasn't it?"

"Yes… yes it was," Riza agreed, breathless with relief and fatigue. "Nice idea of yours, there. That Black-Briar woman is not going to be happy if she hears what you've been doing with her sluice, you know." She paused, and then added teasingly. "I'll make sure it becomes the talk of the town."

He chuckled. "Let that bitch yap. I couldn't have done it without you. Are you hurt?" he asked, steering her gently into view with firm, sword callused hands. He peered closely at the gashes in her shoulders, concerned.

"Just a little. Are you?"

"Aye. Just a little." He held out his hand and drew her to her feet, but her sandals skidded on the wet snow and she tripped, dragging the Dragonborn with her. She felt him rotate his shoulders instinctively to cushion her fall, and she landed sprawled across his chest, entangled in his arms. Bloodied and battered from the battle, they looked at each other expectantly on the bone-strewn floor, and abruptly broke into peals of mirthful laughter.

"You're very beautiful when you smile, you know," Gilrayn noted suddenly as he brushed away the girl's damp tussles of hair from his face, prompting her cheeks to flush a brilliant pink. But before she could reply, a disembodied voice howled throughout the cavern, sucking away the warmth from their bodies. The earth rumbled violently as it spoke.

_"Wo meyz wah dii vul junaar?" __Who dares trespass my Dark Kingdom?_

"What in Shor's name was that?" Gilrayn exclaimed in awe.

"_Morokei_..." Riza replied quietly.

And then it spoke again, louder and more deeply, this time in the Tamrielic tongue.

_"Come to me. Face your end."_

* * *

**A/N: **Well that took substantially longer to write than I had expected. It's so difficult to translate a battle into words! This chapter was supposed to include events from the following one, but just the first half alone is longer than the preceding chapters, so I had to split it up. Things are only going to heat up from here, for sure. Due to the violent/suggestive nature of this chapter and the subsequent ones, I may upgrade the rating for this story from T to M. This is only my second time trying to write an epic fight scene so any suggestions for this novice would be highly appreciated. Thank you for the reviews so far!


End file.

Elder Scroll series, Fantasy, Romance