Elder Scroll series 1. Prologue

**_Prologue_**

Razafri crouched in the snowy mountain pass connecting Skyrim to Cyrodiil. Shadows played over his feline features as he watched a caravan make its way over the rough road. His Khajiit eyes pierced the night without strain, a great advantage in his line of profession.

The passing of the caravan made his fur stand on edge and his heart pump harder in excitement. The moment he'd been dreaming of for over thirteen years had finally come. Three of the men in the caravan of no less than twenty were marked for death, though they knew nothing of this. Razafri had been patiently anticipating their arrival. The minutes ticked by slowly as he waited in the darkness. Five carts pulled by ten horses carried the goods, and Razafri took inventory of them, more of habit then necessity now.

The Caravan was likely to be on its way to Falkreath or Helgen. These were good trade posts for dealers on the outside of Skyrim. Two of the carts held furs, one of them had a light tarp over it, which typically meant that it contained iron or steal weapons. The others had miscellaneous items that held no real value to a thief.

As the last light of the moons began to fall and the sun began to rise the time approached. In his experience, this was the time when the caravans were least aware. The sun was rising and the night was over, and they naively believed all danger had passed. This had been the mistake of many victims before them and most likely many afterwards. The time had come. Vengeance was soon to be his.


	2. Chapter 1: Anastasia

Chapter 1: Meeting at the Mare

Whiterun's cobblestone roads remained generally unoccupied during the cool nights. Most citizens had long since tucked away into their houses, children finished dinner and retired to bed leaving their parents to discuss the latest gossip around town. Those who weren't held down by familial life or the duties of a Whiterun guard found themselves enjoying the warmth of a welcoming hearth at the local tavern and the comfort of a bottle of mead.

Anastasia hesitated at the bottom of the steps of one of those taverns, listening to music gently float from behind the closed doors. Occasionally a couple would walk out clutching to each other in a disgusting display of drooling desire or a lone man would brush by gruffly smelling strongly of booze and sweat and sometimes more pleasantly; apple pie. Each time, the open doors would swing open and unleash a flood of noise and warm inviting air.

The light shining through the windows illuminated the faces within and she clutched the small crinkled paper in her hand more tightly than before, holding it up to read the hastily written note for the seventh time since the courier had handed it to her that day.

_**Bannered Mare **_

_**At Dusk**_

The handwriting was unmistakable. Even rushed the letter held a certain air of perfection as if each word had taken a full twenty minutes to write but upon closer inspection there was the slightest hint of unsteadiness, a testament to the shaky hands that wrote them. Sucking in a breath of icy air she marched up the steps welcoming the warmth that enveloped her as she entered the building. A large fire burned in the middle of the bar, people sat on wooden benches around it with mugs of alcohol in hand, idly chatting away. Others were swaying jovially to the music provided by a blond haired bard and his lute.

Anastasia took a seat by the bar, quick to dismiss the hostess whose only business was to ask if she preferred a fresh bottle of mead or to rent a room. Anastasia had never been one for drinking and she had already rented a room at the inn in Riverwood. Besides that, she was sure the reason she had been summoned here was a far cry from getting drunk and enjoying the less than professional singing and dancing that so often accompanied these bars in Skyrim. Her home in Summerset would frown upon such meager performance. This fact made her revel in it even more.

"Adonnenniel," A quiet yet familiar voice spoke up from behind her. "I'm surprised you actually came."

Her heart jolted at the sound of her given name and she resisted the strong urge to get up and leave the tavern completely, never looking back. This would be harder than she thought. But she stayed herself remaining completely composed outwardly. "Why wouldn't I have? You didn't think I wanted to see my dearest brother?"

The cloaked figure of her brother sat beside her as he waved the bartender over. As soon as he had handed the full bodied woman a few septims she disappeared into a back room without a word. A short time later she appeared again with two glasses and a bottle of cheap looking brandy in hand. It was safe to assume he was a regular patron.

Her brother filled both glasses and passed one of them to her. Anastasia raised a brow at her twin gaining only an expectant look in return.

"Are you going to drink this or did I just waste my hard earned coin?" he asked as he shook the glass slightly, its contents slopping over the side. The irony was not lost on her. They came from a wealthy family, never having to work a day in their life; pampered by maids, spoiled by servants, and ruled by dearest pa's iron fist. He hadn't wasted anything hard earned.

She breathed out, more than a little surprised. Under the shadow of his cloak she could see the half amused spark in his already glazed over eyes, telling her he'd already had a few drinks. When she finally conceded, uncertainly taking the glass from her brother's spindly fingers she set it back down without taking so much as a sip. She had never liked the taste of any alcohol, preferring water to any wine or whiskey. Not to mention she had seen too many fools fall under the dangerous charm of the drink brought to their knees for their next sip of the unholy drink. Such a loss of control would not be tolerated, not for her.

"What kind of Nord are you? Rejecting a free drink from your own blood?" Her brother's soft voice hummed out as if in tune with the blond haired bard. Chuckling at his own joke he raised his glass as if in toast and downed half of it without grimacing. "Well I guess it's more for me."

Anastasia stayed silent watching as his hood fell back and revealed a handsome face that had once been more familiar to her than even her own. Long white bangs brushed over golden eyes that might have been identical to hers except for the severe deformity of skin surrounding them, unsightly scarlet welts of color against pale olive flesh. Everything she had been prepared to say fell apart at the sight of him, though his appearance hadn't changed much in the years they'd spent apart; some part of her intuition was screaming that something inherently bigger had changed within him. "Erestan, perhaps it's not wise for someone of your condition to be drinking quite so much."

"On the contrary, someone of my _condition_ may need this most." He replied, emphasizing the word condition with deep aversion, swirling the glass in a slow circle. She chose not to press the matter, reminding herself to keep the feelings she thought she had abandoned long ago in check. It had been three years since the last time she'd seen her brother- her twin by birth date, her younger brother by timing and altmeri culture- and there had been minimal contact between the two of them by her own choosing. The occasional letter had been passed but not much was written other than their current wellbeing. The physical distance had been great but it didn't seem like anything compared to the distance that sat between them now in the warmly lit bar. She couldn't help but feel she had missed something inherent in his life.

Hearing Erestan clear his throat, Anastasia snapped from her thoughts. "Anyways," her brother started. "All greetings and formalities aside, as I know you hate them, the real reason I summoned you here is because I have heard some rumors going around lately that I think may interest you."

"You came all this way to tell me about some 'interesting' rumors?" Anastasia could have punched him. When she had received the note she had been, at the very least, surprised even dare she say concerned. She hadn't even known her brother was in Skyrim and for him to arrange a meeting, knowing what she was, the betrayal…she had thought he had something of great importance to tell her. Not to talk about some interesting rumors over a bottle of cheap brandy. She met his gaze with irritation and suspicion. "I think I have more pressing matters to attend to Erestan. If you wanted to bring me here to reprimand me for what I did three years ago, please spare me. I feel no guilt and nothing you can say this night will change that. I'm not going back, even if you beg."

Anastasia got up to leave but stopped as her brother grabbed her by the arm and pulled her back down onto the wooden stool, it wobbled beneath her and she threw her feet out to steady herself stunned by the sudden contact. She moved to push him away but his grip on her arm tightened and though she could have easily outmatched him in strength it wasn't worth causing a scene. Sneering she met his now pleading eyes with barely contained anger. "What is this about?"

"Listen." He whispered harshly in a tone he rarely ever took up. "It's for your own benefit; besides you're looking to make a couple extra septims, right? You're a mercenary now, that's what I've been told."

Her attention peeked at once, she had mentioned it to him very briefly, her half-obsessive quest for fortune and if he was promising a few coins in her pocket then it couldn't hurt to lend an ear for at least a little while longer. Though she was sure there was some ulterior motive. "Fine I'll listen to what you have to say but for your sake it better be worth it."

Erestan downed the last of both of their drinks, looking relieved at how quickly she had changed her mind. "There was a big commotion last Morndus. Apparently some bandit leader had been trying to find a good hideout in a cave around here but he found something else instead."

"And that would be?" She interjected impatiently. She detested when people beat around the bush for dramatic purposes.

"That would be a nest of Falmer."

"So?" Anastasia asked, stretching her arms out "Falmer are everywhere underground. It's not unusual…"

"Well that's what the guards said but the guy was quite rattled up."

"Oh, is that right? He probably had too much skooma."

"No. The problem was that he hadn't even walked very far into the cave before he saw them. Hundreds of them. At least that's what he claimed." Erestan explained keeping his voice low enough that she had to strain to hear his gentle tone over the squawking blonde man and his slightly more pleasant lute. "Supposedly the man ran all the way here screaming; woke half the town up."

Anastasia took a moment to consider the possibility. Normally a bunch of Falmer would hardly be considered a problem. If you stayed out of the deeper caves you would probably never see one in your lifetime. The Falmer or 'ice elves' lived far beneath Skyrim and though they were considered rather violent, Anastasia had never heard of them coming to the surface before.

"What is it you're trying to tell me, Erestan?" She demanded, frustrated.

"The rumors that have been going around tell of a planned invasion by the Falmer."

"So, what coin is there to be made from that?" Anastasia asked, more confused than frustrated now. A Falmer invasion didn't sound pleasant by any means but this was Skyrim, the Nord's land. As far as she was concerned, if it was their land then it was their problem. Let the Nord's deal with it. Not only that but she couldn't fathom why her brother would ever suggest helping them out, if the Falmer invaded then the instability and chaos that ensued would only help the empire tighten its grip around Skyrim and possibly even destroy or weaken the rising rebellion.

Though neither of them had ever had much of an opinion concerning politics and major current events Anastasia had done her best to avoid the subject altogether, a hard feat when your father worked for the Aldmeri Dominion. The thought of war, of entire countries and kings and governments at each other's throats at the expense of their own people left a sour taste in her mouth, ironic in that actual combat left her feeling completely alive and exhilarated. Erestan on the other hand, in his vast array of knowledge and desire to please their tyrant father had at least a biased opinion of the current affair. She was sure he could see, no matter how farfetched it seemed, that an invasion from inside along with the bloody civil war about to come to a head would completely melt this icy country and send it crashing into the sea while the outside world could clink their glasses together sitting on their exotic beaches without a care in the world.

"Adonni, think about it. People are going to be worried about this little event, scared the Falmer will strike any second. If it's septims you want then I'm sure there are a handful of people around that would be willing to hire a strong young warrior such as yourself to clear that cave out."

Anastasia stared at him suspiciously, inwardly cringing as he once again referred to her with a version of her given name. She had cast that name off three years ago. Erestan was right about the people that would want to hire her but there was something he wasn't telling her. He wouldn't have asked her to come here just to suggest a get rich quick scheme. No matter how much either of them had changed in three years she knew him better than that.

"What's in it for you then?" She asked and watched her twin shrug. A small smile had planted itself on his face and his golden red-rimmed eyes, though glazed over with intoxication, still held a certain intellectual glint to them.

"Nothing. Do I need a reason to help yo-."

Anastasia cut him off angrily. "Did _he _put you up to something? Is this something our father asked you to do? Some scheme to drag me back home and marry me off to another suitor to restore our family name?" The pain crossing into her brothers delicately attractive features left a small finger print of guilt in her heart. Usually she would've taken the information given to her and just gotten the task over with. Mission start, mission complete, money in pocket and done. That's how she normally worked, like a good mercenary should, but the thought of their father sending her brother to do his dirty work made her blood boil.

"And tell me how that would work Adonnenniel?" Her twin retorted, obviously unimpressed with her accusations, waving the hostess back over this time tossing a few extra coins her way much to Anastasia's chagrin. It was such a waste of perfectly good funds. "What am I going to do, knock you out in the middle of a falmer infested cave, fight my way out while carrying your dead weight and then tie you up and throw you on a ship back to summerset?" They both paused letting the pure absurdity of it sink in.

"He is still stationed in Skyrim then?" She asked more out of necessity, needing to know his whereabouts so she could avoid him.

Her brother nodded starting his next drink, a more expensive and stronger Nordic mead. He hadn't bothered filling her now empty glass; an action that would have been extremely disrespectful in their homeland. "Yes. As far as I know he is stationed in Markarth hunting down Talos worshippers under thalmor orders. He has no notion of my meeting with you or even my travels here."

Something in her screamed that he was lying, putting up a pretense of some sort for some reason or another but she couldn't fully convince herself of that. Never had he been good liar, that had always been her forte and so she chose to believe that the spark in his sharp eyes she was mistaking for deception was a trick of shadow formed by the fire dancing behind her and his current state of increasing drunkenness. Already in one night she had seen her brother drink more than she had in her entire life before. She wondered what had happened in her absence that would cause him to take up such a habit. Still Anastasia was impressed with her brother. Even half-drunk his mind was as sharp as ever. "Fine. I'd appreciate it if you keep it that way."

Erestan seemed to ignore her. "I thought you'd be interested so I rented you a room here seeing as the cave is just to the northeast of Whiterun." He pulled a map out from inside of his dark cloak and unfolded it on the bar much to the annoyance of some of the other patrons. The map was torn and worn out, only consisting of a zoomed in version of Whiterun hold. Someone had circled several locations and random notes were scrawled across the entirety of it. Erestan placed a long thin finger near one of the circled areas. "Right about here. Shimmermist cave."

"Who should I ask about it then?"

"Just ask around. Mention the cave and see if someone expresses their concern then simply sucker them into hiring you. The more people you get to hire you the heavier your coin purse will be. Also I hear there is a man going around hiring various groups of mercenaries and such to take care of the problem; he's offering a pretty hefty reward. He'd be a good place to start."

"Hmph, all this commotion over one stupid cave." She huffed out and leaned forward resting her head on top of her intertwined fingers just as the door swung wide open letting a fresh blast of bone chilling air loose through the wide wooden room. As the night progressed the cold became more intense and she lamented briefly that her day had ended already as unexpected as it had been.

A large Nord, taller than her in height maybe even taller than her brother though not by much with a thick faded brown beard and a heavy steel horned helmet sat beside her. His bare bulging muscles and large gloved hands as thick as slabs of butchered meat rested beside her own thin, leather braced ones and in seconds, without even meeting his eyes she felt a shockwave of inferiority slam through her. When the tavern girl worked her way over, mug in one hand, cleaning rag in the other looking as if all her standard greetings were caught in her throat at the sight of this giant of a man he held up a piece of paper to which she slowly shook her head.

The man nodded in understanding and wordlessly reached across Anastasia to where her brother was sitting with his glass and mead- still peering at the map as if he could somehow summon up all the knowledge they would need about the cave by staring at the crude picture- and plucked up the already half finished bottle tossed it back and chugged it down effortlessly before slamming it down rubbing a hand through his beard and patting Erestan on the shoulder on his way back out the double doors.

The entirety of the place just stared at the broad back long after the wooden doors had swung back closed enveloping them in a cocoon of warmth again. Even the bard had stopped playing, to Anastasia's relief and she could see fear written on his face plain as day. As things settled back down and people muttered there goodnights apparently having lost their will to make merry into the wee hours of the morning she turned to Erestan in question and he just shrugged forlornly, apparently still grieving the loss of his drink. "Dragonborn." He half mumbled half slurred. "Thinks he can do whatever he wants but he's not the only one to bear both strength and burden in this world."

But the pieces clicked in place, and Anastasia couldn't blame the people for their suddenly fearful and desolate moods. The fear of being taken down in a fiery storm brought on by a beast presumed to be long gone and the only hope being in one man who can't be everywhere at once…well it was just another heartache on a long list for these people.

"Oh, but what a burden to bear!" The tavern girl spoke up now cleaning the same mug with renewed vigor. "Imagine it, where ever you go your held with either great honor or great contempt and you have all the power in the world but have to shoulder the responsibility all alone..." The young woman shook her head sadly. "He stops in occasionally, it's nice to see he looks well. He's helped this town out so much."

"What is it he showed you on that paper?" Anastasia asked despite herself. To have sat next to the dragon born, such a massive intimidating man, it was just another curiosity to her already abnormal day.

"A wanted poster. A khajiit, though to be honest they all look the same to me. He must be doing some mercenary work for a Jarl or perhaps another more_ shady_ party judging by the look of the poster, I suppose even the dragonborn needs to earn his living one way or another."

"And your fine with that?" Erestan drawled.

"I've seen bad men do kind acts and kind men do unspeakable things, this world's not black and white. If it was we wouldn't allow elves such as yourselves to stay at our inn and drink our mead now would we?" She raised a neatly lined brow. "Besides I told you he's done a lot for this town and for its residents."

With that she cleaned up their emptied glasses and they showed themselves to their rented room without argument. Anastasia sat on the cold unused bed letting a long breath of air flow from within her lungs. Her twin pulled off his cloak and boots and disarmed himself of the few small weapons he carried, stretching out his long grotesquely thin limbs in front of her. Three years had done him no good physically; he was still the bony pale form he had always been, having potential to be as beautiful as a perfectly carved statue of gold and ivory but falling disappointingly short where it was most noticeable. Frail and soft where she was strong and bold.

Sometimes she wondered if they could just switch bodies, or really just slight pieces of their bodies like their muscle tone and posture then they might be perfected. No man wanted a woman more proud and bold than himself and no woman a man more delicate and feebler than her.

"You going to sleep in your boots with your blade still strapped to your back?" She looked up and saw that her brother had collapsed onto the bed next to her, gangly limbs sprawled out as if it were fine to just invade her personal space. Too bewildered to argue and too tired to get angry she ditched her weapons and armor, throwing them with a muddled thud to the wood slatted floor and fell onto her side turning her back to her brother and keeping a good amount of distance between them. She couldn't afford to get close to him again, it brought too much of the past back.

Half dazed she remembered to ask a question that had been gnawing at her since they had started talking about the Falmer and the cave.

"Are you coming with me tomorrow or am I going in this one alone?"

"I have you're back as always Adonni." Came the mumbled reply.

"It's Anastasia now." She corrected him as she had in one of her first letters sent to the isles and signed every one since. Her brother didn't reply probably already asleep. Then as the night slipped on into an oblivion of the unknown and lights were blown out one by one through the large town of whiterun, the she-elf's mind began to slip into a warm and eager anticipation of the things to come.


	3. Chapter 2: Razafri

Chapter 2: Forged of New Honor

If Razafri had ever believed in some semblance of honor or glory he had abandoned them long ago. So it felt strangely absurd that he would be making his way so easily up the steps of Jorrvaskr a standing symbol of both honor and glory and many other virtues that the Khajiit wouldn't have thought twice about before, in the middle of broad daylight, new mail armor clinking with his every move.

"Hail, Razafri!" A middle aged man called out to him, dressed in full plate armor the helm of which he balanced steadily on his hip. His unmasked cheer was almost disconcerting as he met Razafri half way, two skyforged swords sheathed on his persona. "Are you prepared to raise that new blade of yours my young friend?"

"Hello master." Razafri bowed in deep respect, resisting the urge to shudder at the sound of clanking metal as he had not worn true armor ever in his life and was not yet accustomed to it. The dress of the thieves' guild and the brotherhood had been almost completely silent.

"Will the Falmer not hear us coming with all this noise? Surprise is our best chance of victory is it not?" Razafri couldn't resist asking, but immediately felt embarrassed for doing so. He could feel his fur rise under his teacher's powerful yet kind gaze.

"For the last time my friend, I am no one's master. And not wearing armor to a battle is a foolish idea. The bandit who saw the Falmer put their numbers at no less than fifty and with the twenty men Feron said we would be with, even the most well thought out attack would fail us. The Falmer are blin-."

Razafri cut him off. "Blind! Exactly! Why couldn't we just sneak up on them as they sleep then?"

After taking a deep breath Zane explained to Razafri for maybe the fourth time in the past two days; The Falmer have lived underground for millennia and though they lost their vision from ill-treatment by the Dwemer and years of nothing but utter darkness their sense of smell, and hearing were at levels far beyond the abilities of any Human, Elf, or Khajiit. Little was actually known about the Falmer besides their disdain for anything living on the surface of the world.

"Not all our warriors are ex-assassins either Razafri. To ask a band of mostly Nords to silently creep in to kill their enemies is like asking a hive of bees to be silent as you steal their honey."

Finally understanding the point, Razafri held out his paw-like hand and Zane shook it saying "Raise your blade with honor, overwhelm your enemies with courage, and sacrifice your life for your shield-brother." With a fanged grin Razafri smiled and they made their way to the main gate.

Awaiting their arrival, for they were the last to arrive, was the Imperial, Feron, leading the attack against the Falmer. Feron was no more than twenty-five years old, but his battle experience was something much talked about. Razafri however doubted that it was all accurate, recalling the bards songs of "Ragnar the Red". His bald head shined in the morning sun just as much as his shining steel armor as he waved the two over.

"Is everyone prepared for the attack?" Feron asked with a hint of caution as all the warriors gathered around him.

As Zane had predicted, most of them were Nords who were brawny looking city guards. Razafri recognized many of them from his frequent visits to Whiterun, but not one of them would know him. Other than the Nords, there were three elves present. A couple wood elves from a town to the east were there. Razafri recognized their faces from his 'old life'. '_That's not me anymore'. _He reminded himself.

The other two were Altmer. A race better known as high elves who mostly acted as their name would suggest. Altmer were known for their overbearing beliefs about how they were superior to all other races. Razafri could recall being a child in the orphanage in Riften when an Altmer had arrived one day. The elf looked down at him smirking and called him "a fuzzy little pet" just before storming out of the building with a scratched face as a trophy. Razafri had gotten to spend that week without meals.

These two however had a different look to them. Instead of the usual Thalmor robes or gilded elven armor, the girl wore dark leather armor that looked like it might be extremely light in weight. Razafri found he was envious, wishing he could also wear something a little darker in color and a lot less noisy. The elf standing to her left looked as if he had just come from a funeral. A dark cloak with a hood pulled over half his face was all that you could see of his clothes besides the boots he wore. A stereotypical mage, Razafri thought.

Feron pulled out a map of Shimmermist cave then and began to plan out the attack as best as possible. "Remember," he said several times throughout the briefing "This is not about being a hero. Survival is the most important thing. Just Drive Them Back!" His emphasis was anything but needed, Razafri thought to himself afterward. Anyone who was willing to actually risk dying in this little skirmish was a damned fool in his mind. In the end the discussion came down to three simple concepts. Stay alive. Stay together. And most importantly: Don't be stupid.

By mid-morning they had arrived at the base of the outcropping that contained Shimmermist cave within its depths. '_The Falmer must be smarter then we give them credit for' _Razafri reasoned to himself as he looked back toward Whiterun. Dragons Reach stood tall even from this far away. '_In the midst of a civil war, the Jarl of Whiterun has yet to choose a side, and his people are divided. Even the town guard is in disarray. If they were ever going to attack then now would be the time.' _

After a few seconds of deliberating in his head Razafri came to the decision that Whiterun had become his home. He had lived there for almost a month now under Zane's roof and kindness, and in that time he had grown accustom to its buildings, its cobblestone roads and even the people. Their general mistrust of Khajiit had been erased the moment Zane took Razafri under his wing. Since then, Zane had taught Razafri about many things such as honor, swordsmanship, manors, and perhaps most importantly how to laugh. Razafri had almost never laughed in his earlier life. In fact to make him even speak back then was a challenge most forfeited before Razafri had even come close to uttering a single syllable. Now however, Razafri almost couldn't contain his speech, it seemed to flow like the water from Whiterun's very falls. He had years' worth of talking to catch up on, though it wasn't always easy. He found he was often awkward and unsure when the right time to speak was.

With a silent nod from Feron they began to proceed through the entrance to the cave, which was so narrow no more than two people could fit in at a time. So in a semi-silent column they advanced into the cave. Two Whiterun guards led the way in full garb, which much to Razafri and Zane's humor was actually mostly yellow. Next came four companions in full steel armor, then Razafri and Zane shoulder to shoulder, followed by the two strange elves and the rest of the company behind them.

They followed the path for about ten minutes before they found the opening where they knew the Falmer's camp was located. The darkness was so absolute, for all but Razafri, whose eyes were more cat-like than human. The only light was the shimmering light of the phosphorescent mushrooms on the walls along with an eerie light that seemed to reflect off the rocks. Strangely enough the reflection seemed to have no source. A heavy mist enveloped around them making it harder to breathe, but they pressed on only stopping before the final turn and then the charge into the un-expecting camp.

With a loud battle-cry they stormed into the dark cavern. The two guards spread out and the Companions took the center line as they charged. There were only three Falmer guards posted at the entrance and they were cut down with simplicity. This was the first time Razafri had ever seen a Falmer in person. They were pale homely creatures with no hair, long claws and elf ears that seemed to sag from their wrinkled skulls. Their armor was black and looked as if it had been crafted from the very rocks they stood on.

With a loud screech the camp seemed to come alive with motion, as the Falmer became aware of their plight. They stood and charged at the line of men in front of Razafri. Beside him was Zane on the one side and the two high elves on the other. Watching the battle even one line back was hard for Razafri. He was right behind his own comrades so he couldn't move forward to attack, but neither was it possible to retreat if he wanted to. The girl elf beside him had an even harder time, she was going so far as to strike at the Falmer with her two handed sword from behind the companion in front of her, much to his discomfort.

Suddenly the man in front of Razafri became a pair of Falmer as two swords penetrated through the Companion's torso. The fall of the Companion known as Torval seemed to enrage Zane who was now at Razafri's side fighting intensely. Before Razafri could step up to fight in the fallen man's place he felt something pull him back harshly by his right shoulder, his sword arm. The girl elf had grabbed him and was using him as leverage to push herself further into the fray. Easily she took out both of the Falmer with a single swipe of her mighty sword.

Razafri growled in frustration. On accident, he had almost cut the elf in two as she pushed past him but nonetheless her vigor and enthusiasm in the fight inspired him to push past his friends and unleash a fury he had held within him all his life. With a loud roar he pushed between the Altmer and Zane plowing three Falmer over in the process.

Finding himself surrounded by his enemies and with his allies being over twenty feet away, Razafri prepared himself to begin to use the new skills Zane had taught him in the last few months. He raised his shield and struck down two blind Falmer who must not have heard his charge through the commotion of the battle. '_This isn't that hard' _he thought to himself as the second one fell. He raised his shield again to defend an overhand blow, then spinning beneath his raised shield, he cut open his foe. "Three." He muttered to himself, remembering Zane's challenge the previous night. The one who walked out of the cave with the most kills was winner. Loser had to massage Tilma's feet. Tilma was the companion's servant who seemed as old as Jorrvaskr itself and just thinking of her bunion ridden feet made Razafri queasy.

Two Falmer came up from behind Razafri and tackled him, their slimy skin felt as if it were sinking into his striped fur. Razafri landed on his stomach as the three of them wrestled on the hard stone floor. Struggling franticly, Razafri had no choice but to abandon his shield as he pushed off one of the Falmer, and in the next split second clawed at the others face instantly knocking it out.

Before Razafri could rise to his feet again another three Falmer took the previous two's place and tried to hold him down. He was at the bottom of a dog pile and knew his survival was unlikely. His only hope was to somehow get up and back to the group. Razafri had never used his teeth as a weapon before, but today it was his only weapon within reach, for his sword had long since been lost, and his daggers were unreachable, tucked away in his belt.

With the most ferocious roar he had ever let loose he sunk his fangs into the closest bit of flesh he could. There wasn't even a yelp in response, the disgusting creature died instantly. Blood splattered over Razafri's face and torso. '_Must have been its throat' _He thought as he thrashed around trying to find an opening to bite and scratch where he could.

He was finally able to reach a small shiv he tucked into his wrist armor and began stabbing away at any flesh he could. A blade soon came across his arm, causing it to bruise badly but for once Razafri was glad to be wearing such gaudy armor.

After a while his struggle became fruitless, the shiv slipped from his hand and his efforts were exhausted. There were Falmer holding down each of his limbs and one sitting on his chest they had him completely subdued and covered in blood, it was hard to tell how much of it was his own. The Falmer sitting on his chest raised a crooked blade high over its head and just as it was about to strike the putrid being burst into flames.


	4. Chapter 3: Erestan

**Chapter 3**

Erestan hurried after his sister and the old companion as they ran forward in pursuit of a seemingly crazed Khajiit. He tried to stay close as possible to Anastasia afraid of being separated in the chaos; though she seemed much less concerned about it as she hacked away at everything in her path barley checking to see if it were Falmer or comrade. "What are you doing?" He yelled to her.

She continued to plow Falmer down left and right barely even needing to parry a strike and even then she somehow managed to lop off her attackers head. One rolled beneath his feet and he almost stumbled into her back slightly disgusted.

"No bloody," His sister began to answer, arcing her great sword to one side, catching an assailant in the torso.

"Khajiit," She tore it out with force and raised it above her head before bringing it down onto the skull of another.

"Will outfight….me!" She exclaimed darting forward with a show of brute force as the companion next to her turned to face another foe finally clearing Erestan's obscured vision of the foolish khajiit who had barreled forward earlier.

He was buried beneath a pile of the nasty creatures and was currently about to take a blade through the chest. Without so much as a second thought Erestan raised his left hand in front of him and brought forth a fire spell setting the falmer ablaze, watching as it let out an ugly high pitched and agonized scream, dropped its blade then lurched off of the khajiit flailing as it was burned alive.

"Quickly!" He called to his sister and the man motioning for them to run toward the khajiit.

"You fool!" The old man yelled as he helped his friend to his feet. "What good is being an avenger if you're buried before your adversary?"

No sooner had he said it than the ground beneath their boots began to quiver violently, small stones pelted them from far overhead and a loud echoing crash came from not far behind them. Erestan grabbed his sister's arm for support, bringing his other arm up to protect his face from the falling debris.

Just as suddenly as it had come the crashing stopped, silence filled their ears while thick clouds of dust filled their lungs. No one dared move for a long moment. After some time Erestan could hear the faint voices of the group they had come in with, but whatever they were saying was lost on him. The path they had gone down had collapsed and cut them off from the rest of the group.

"Hello!" Anastasia yelled out, startling them all from their shocked silence. "Can anybody hear me?!"

"It's useless." The khajiit spoke and Anastasia whirled on him, sword still in hand. She held it threateningly and Erestan held his breath ready for a fight to break out at any moment.

"You be quiet! We wouldn't be here if not for you!" She accused, and Erestan could just barely make out that she had jabbed a finger at the ruffled khajiit. Through the extreme darkness cat like eyes peered back, looking irate and defensive. Erestan immediately threw a mage light up and they all squinted as their eyes adjusted to the new light.

"Enough. Accusations are not going to get us out of here." The old man spoke calmly and sternly as if to children. _He'd have better luck speaking to children_ Erestan thought watching as the two of them never broke eye contact. "There may be another exit further in."

At the possibility of getting out they finally dropped their guard and Anastasia sheathed her sword turned around and began walking back across what was left of the open area, kicking dismembered heads and body parts out of her way. Erestan shook his head, and turned to the khajiit who was still glaring daggers at nothing in particular. His face was covered in blood darkening his already dark fur even more. It was hard to tell where his marking were and what was blood.

"Are you injured?" Erestan asked genially, it would do no good to make enemies out of comrades. Especially if these were the people he'd be sharing a tomb with.

The khajiit seemed to blink, surprised as if just noticing the mages presence and then after an awkward pause he smiled feebly, and scratched the back of his neck. "I don't think so. Nothing serious at least," then he hesitated. "Thank you, for helping me before, I lost myself in the fight." He looked confused, but not because of an injury. Like no one had ever been concerned for his well-being before.

"You weren't the only one." Erestan told him nodding towards Anastasia. "My sister may talk big but she was rushing forward just as blindly." He looked to where she was standing beside him a moment before, but she was not there.

Anastasia called to him then from the furthest end of the blocked passageway, clearly very angry. "I wasn't plowing forward so far so I could be be overthrown by a few of these puny little bastards." She threw a look at the khajiit as she kicked another one of the heads that was no longer friends with the rest of its body. "_And _now we are completely trapped in a Falmer infested cave, with no food, water, limited air, and we have to sit here and wait to die because this cat doesn't know what to do in a fight!" She slammed her foot into a rather large bolder that seemed to be holding a large portion of the blockage in place.

"And you and your kin, are you both unharmed?" The man asked Erestan ignoring Anastasia's tantrum.

"She seems well enough, and I am…" He tried to think of a way to explain his condition. Erestan was never well. He'd been born with a condition that left his eyes bordered by red veiny skin, as if his eyes had burst and the blood had stained his skin. It also left his physical body impaired. He was thin, and frail, and mightily weak. A child could almost outrun him, best him in any feat of strength, and could for sure hold its breath longer than him.

The condition had however given him one area of great strength. He was a magical prodigy. His magical prowess was hindered only by his low level of stamina. He was casting master level spells before the age of ten years. His father was not always a present for business called him elsewhere, but he had hired the best teachers and masters in the dominion to train Erestan's mind to be at its absolute peak. Erestan learned quickly, and despite being physically maimed, and having low endurance he had become very powerful.

"I am … tired." He said after a moment of thought. "My name is Erestan, This is my sister, Ado- I mean…Anastasia." He glanced over at her, hoping she noticed that he had used her new name but she continued kicking the boulder, oblivious to all but her frustration.

"My name is Zane: member of the highest council of the companions. This is Razafri." Erestan bowed his head slightly and reached out a hand in friendship. He looked the Nord in the eye, as best as he could in the darkness of the cave, the only light came from the glowing mushrooms along the walls, and the fading mage light he had cast. Erestan had come to terms that his eyes were hated by most, and was no longer afraid to look into someone's soul. He had learned at a young age that there was much more to a person then what they wore around their bones. He mostly only avoided eye contact out of respect or to put others at ease. His appearance often put others on edge until they were allowed time to adjust to him.

Zane was a Nord with white hair that was just visible beneath his steel helm. His plate armor did little to mask the massive bulk that was typical for Nords, even at such an old age. Despite the fading hair Erestan had a hard time believing that Zane was all that old. But the depth of his grey eyes, and the wrinkles under them betrayed his age. Zane was quite old to still be adventuring out and fighting with the companions, and even then with enough zeal to keep up with Anastasia. It was impressive.

The Nord took Erestan's hand with no hesitation, filling Erestan with a sort of gladness only acceptance brings; Even if it was a human's acceptance. Then he extended the same hand to Razafri, who took his hand in a sort of sloppy kind of handshake, bringing a smile to Erestan's lips that could only be brought by an awkward handshake of a confused Khajiit. He wondered why Razafri seemed to have absolutely no social skills.

Anastasia suddenly pushed off the rock and turned to the group. "This is all your fault!" She lunged at the Khajiit throwing a punch at his face. With absolutely no effort at all he dodged and spun around her so they were back to back.

"Don't pick a fight…:" He said. He didn't mean it as a threat, but it came off that way.

"Adonni stop! That is enough!" Erestan held out a hand to his sister. "You can't blame him for the cave in. No one could have prevented that."

"I can and I will. We are all going to die down here because of this damned cat." She jabbed a finger towards the Khajiit. Erestan looked at Razafri. His face showed what exactly it was he wanted to say, but he held his tongue. Razafri clearly had an intense distaste for being called cat.

"You don't know that, it's just as Zane said earlier, there could be a way out further in the cave. It's not like we have anything more to lose." He looked around. As far as he could see there was nothing but cave walls, mushrooms, and a dense mist. It was thick and hot and hard to breathe in. And even as Anastasia continued her angry rant, Erestan held up his hand to silence her.

"Enough!" He had to shout again. He hated raising his voice. "This is not mist! Its steam. There are Dwemmer ruins in these caves, that means there is another way out. Their cities always had exits scattered across around just in case of an emergency. Which…in retrospect was a wonderful idea." He smiled just a little. "We go deeper into the cave." And he began walking. He knew his sister would follow. She always did, even this time.

Surely enough after a few minutes Razafri said "I can see their walls ahead. We've almost reached the Dwemmer city!"

"What do you mean you can see? I can hardly see the stone I step on." Anastasia questioned angrily. Erestan knew she wasn't even curious; she just needed something else to be angry about. He almost rolled his eyes at her.

"I have the tail of a _cat_, the ears of a _cat_, and the eyes of a _cat_." Razafri answered derisively.

This didn't seem to satisfy Anastasia. She just grunted a response, unable to find a way to turn his response into a fight. He heard her kick yet another rock, it bounced around with a muted 'thunk, thunk' until it rolled to a halt further up the path.

The sound of cogs and gears forever grinding against each other grew louder the deeper in they walked. They passed through the transition from the cave to the metal existence of the Dwemmer hall. It was partially still stone, but intricately carved instead of the craggy crumbling stone of the cave. There was also more natural light, coming from some falmer tents that had been erected in miscellaneous areas through the ruins.

Erestan wondered briefly if the Dwarves disappearance had anything to do with the falmer. Though it seemed unlikely, they were an ancient race of elf that had vanished long ago, leaving behind their far advanced cities to crumble into desecrated ruins.

They were not unprotected however. The Dwemmer left behind their machines, some still functioning as if they had just left the morning before. And among these machines were Automatons. Razafri saw them first, three, waist height solid Dwarven-gold constructs. They had six legs and two sharp claw-like arms.

"Get down..." Razafri said calmly. They all listened, except for Anastasia.

"Why are you hiding? It's nothing but a few metal spiders. I can kill the three of them alone."

"I'd rather avoid a fight if I can. We don't know how many are around the corner." Zane answered her. "We need to conserve our energy."

"So much for the companions being brave powerful warriors." She hissed and Erestan tried to speak up to tell her to be polite but she was already running to the machines. "Let's have some fun before we die!" She said as she swung her great sword into the one closest to her. In this new light Erestan could clearly see the thing break apart. Most of its bolts and nuts scattered across the floor. He saw the two beside him charge ahead to help the battle crazed mer woman. He ran up behind them. He was tired and weak but knew that he wouldn't ever forgive himself if something did actually happen to her. Still he was not overly concerned. And the sound of the second one smashing into a wall after another swing of his sister's mighty sword strengthened his lack of fear.

But the sound that followed did not fill him with comfort. The sound of many tiny metal legs hitting a stone floor fell upon his ears. "Addoni!" Erestan yelled running to his sister as Zane easily dispatched the last automaton. "You've only managed to call more in. we don't know if we can withstand that many!"

"Razafri!" Zane called out pulling his shield off of his back. "Defend Erestan, don't let them get too close. He cannot defend himself." To which Razafri nodded and pulled off his own shield. He stood in a stance that confused Erestan. He had never seen a warrior crouch quite like that. Perhaps Razafri was new to combat, and it was sheer adrenaline that had pushed him past so many falmer earlier.

The golden spiders turned the corner. There were maybe ten or eleven of them. Erestan didn't have the mind to count them. Most of them advanced to the group on the ground, but some were on the walls, as if trying to flank them. Erestan launched a basic fire spell straight into one of the wall climbers. It fell to the floor, hopefully melting in the inferno.

Anastasia bagan swinging madly at the spiders as they advanced on her, and Zane was more than holding his own. His shield was a large help to him, best shown when he smashed one of the spiders legs off with it. Razafri's shield looked like more of a hindrance in the battle then anything. It weighed him down, and made his swings somewhat clumsy, but he would eventually hit his mark and a limb would fly off.

Erestan tried to conserve himself as much as possible; only casting when a spider was about to leap onto one of the three from the side or back. Once he was caught off guard by one that had snuck past him. It came up behind him and launched itself at him, its spear like feet aimed straight for his face. Razafri however, was a good defender, and threw his round shield at the spider with rather amazing aim, and sent it off its course. Then Razafri drew a small black dagger, and with that and his broadsword, finished off the final spider.

And then silence. All but four hard, deep, and well fought for breaths, and one mechanical spider leg which was unattached to its host, but the joint still moved back and forth scraping against the ground for a few moments until it slowed and finally stopped.

"Now whose fault is it that we almost died." Razafri said hardly under his breath. Erestan looked at him as if he had just awoken a sleeping dragon. Which in effect, he had.

Anastasia swung around to face him, and pointed her sword at him. "I will not be talked to like that! I wouldn't have had to if you hadn't brought us here. And this old man hardly did any good in that fight!" Now she pointed a finger at Zane.

"Do not question my honor, or the companions honor!" He bellowed quietly. Zane had an uncanny ability to be gently fierce. Perhaps it was something that Nords acquired once their young foolish days were over, that and a great white beard. "And I may not have thrashed as many spiders as you did, but if I wasn't guarding your backside, you wouldn't have killed more than the first two before the swarm."

His sister was unimpressed. "I don't care about your blasted honor. Your companions will never see you again, because youre most likely going to die down her as will Erestan and I. But I'll be damned if I die sharing my last breath with that oversized feline. I'll see his corpse bef-"

She went silent. Erestan had raised his hand to paralyze her. Only her chest could move so that she could breath. He didn't have much strength left, but he was able to hold her still for a few moments at least. "These people are not our enemies." He fought for each word. He hoped that he could get through to her. He had never seen her so angry before, though he wasn't fooled. She hadn't lost control of herself, everything she was doing was to rouse everyone else, to pull their strings like puppets and feed her hunger for a fight. Or possibly she was angry because she felt out of control to begin with, being suddenly trapped and forced to cooperate with strangers whom she had deemed as weak. Or perhaps he was wrong about all of it. Perhaps these years in Skyrim had changed her just as he had been changed in her absence. Maybe she didn't belong home after all.

* * *

><p><strong><em><span>AN_****: Thank you everyone who has read through this far as we really do appreciate it. This story was started two years ago so there may be some inconsistencies and the lore will definitely not always be accurate though we did try our best. We have gone back before posting these chapters to do editing but some things are still a little...eh...**

**We also wanted to make a note about the fact that though we did incorporate characters such as Ondolemar, Ancano, Faendal (so on) they may be a little older than what is accurate (who knows) and may not fit what you think of them...terribly sorry! Please don't hate us, haha...**

**Also, Disclaimer: The world and most of the characters belong to Bethesda, except the OCs...I still have them...and so on **


	5. Chapter 4: Zane

**_Chapter 4: To Break Your Iron Pride_**

Zane watched Erestan paralyze his sister. He was more then taken aback by the sudden stop of Anastasia's angry rant. He was impressed by Erestan, it took a lot of guts to go against kin the way he was.

"Anastasia" The elf began. "You must calm yourself; Zane and Razafri are friends not foes. We are not going to die down here; there is a way out ahead. We just have to be calm and work together." Even as he spoke, Zane could see Anastasia begin to tremble. _He won't be able to hold her for long. He's already used so much energy_ Zane thought to himself. He could see the slight tremble in the mage's hands, the pallor of his gaunt face.

"That's enough Erestan, release her." Zane spoke with as much gentleness he could muster. He knew elves didn't often appreciate being ordered around by anyone, much less a Nord. But he had to take control of this situation before she lost control.

"Zane, she's not calm…" Erestan's voice quivered.

"I know. I will handle this." Zane answered again. And without any more hesitation Erestan released his sister.

With a war cry any Nord would be proud of, Anastasia turned to her brother fist pulled back ready to strike him, but Zane had seen it coming. He sprang between them and rammed into the red headed elf knocking her off of her feet. She sprang back up and drew her sword from its sheath on her back. It was a great blade, almost as broad and sturdily made. Zane was impressed she could wield it at all. Elves had slender two handed swords, but this sword was clearly made for the strong hands of a Nord.

"Fight me! Zane of the companions, prove your strength!" She bellowed.

"You question my honor, go to strike your own brother, and maybe call even more of the Dwemer spiders to us?" Zane answered drawing his own blade and dropped his shield completely. It rattled on the dirt ground. "I will fight you." He gripped the hilt of his own blade. It had been made of Skyforge steel by the best blacksmith in all of Whiterun. To carry such a blade was an honor that few outside the order of the companions ever held. It was long, broad, and as sturdy as the elf's before him.

"No!" Erestan exclaimed. "There will be no more bloodshed!" He held up his hands as if he were about to paralyze them both, though no spell escaped his palms. "I will not allow you to fight needlessly. We can all get out of here alive."

"Your sister has called my honor into question. I cannot let that sin pass. But you are right. We will all get out alive, there will be no bloodshed." Zane did not take his eyes off of Anastasia. "Erestan, do you have the strength to magically blunt our weapons for the duration of the fight?" Erestan nodded and proceeded to dull both blades.

Zane wondered how long it would be before his pupil said anything, but Razafri remained silent. He stood beside Erestan in the corridor and watched as Zane and Anastasia took their stances.

"Going to run?" Anastasia asked with a smile as she raised her dulled blade. Zane already saw her fight, and knew this would be hard fought. But there was nothing more important to him than his honor. He would fight for it, and if he lost then so be it. But he was confident, for he fought for honor and she for pride and one would always best the other.

For a short breathless moment neither of them moved. Then with as much zeal any man his age could manage Zane charged forward, his blade quickly striking at Anastasia's left side, which she quickly blocked with the flat side of her greatsword. Zane spun and tried sweeping at her legs. Anastasia leapt back to dodge, only to leap forward with an over the shoulder strike that met the ground with a great crash. Zane had rolled to his side to dodge her blow. If he had tried to block it, or even parry it, he would have been overpowered and struck.

"Not bad elfling." Zane said taunting her with a smile. It had been quite a long time since he had fought someone like her. He loved a good fight. Sometimes he lived for it and seeing the passionate eyes of his opponent he could tell she did too.

And then they were at it again. A strike to the right, to the left, overhead, and to the feet. Neither gaining any ground at all. Zane misjudged her speed and this caused him several close calls, one blow almost striking his head, which even with dulled blades could have been fatal. Anastasia also had underestimated him. This gave him a few close strikes, but none connected.

Several minutes passed, neither had been struck yet. Zane was dumbfounded. His usual strategies and moves had completely failed. She was good, very good. He knew that his age was a disadvantage in this fight. The longer this went on, the sooner he would fall. Anastasia, even with a massive weapon like that, clearly wasn't going to tire. Then Zane had an idea.

He began deflecting her blows closer than before. His counterstrikes were slower and easier for her to block or deflect. He began to back-step to dodge her attacks easier. Anastasia's ferocity blazed and she pushed ever forward.

"Getting tired old man?" Anastasia taunted now.

Zane stumbled back falling onto his knee. She swung around to finish her him. But he wasn't exhausted yet. He rolled and dodged her attack, his blade swinging out from under him as he rose again.

It struck her hard at the back of her knee. Such a blow with an un-blunted blade would have opened the back of her leg up, and have her crippled and likely to slowly bleed out. However, she was only knocked to her knee in this fight. But Zane had his blade on her collar before she could rise up and counter.

"It's over." He almost whispered holding his blade steady. He knew that if she had had him in a similar position, she wouldn't have given him the mercy of withholding the final blow. He looked down at her golden almond shaped eyes. He knew her intimately just then. The defeat and the shame that she felt in the realization that she had been such a fool. He saw the heart of a wild young elf in a society forcing conformation upon its citizens. She was but a child in heart.

"Then I suppose I owe you my apologies Zane." She breathed out heavily and looked away from him, staring at the hard ground beneath her. Her head bowed in respect, elvish respect. He had been to the beaches of Summerset long ago, he knew this gesture wasn't to be taken lightly. "All honor and respect to you and the companions. And Razafri as well." Her words were cold, but not rudely so. She just had no fire left to put into them. The fire had been stoked as quickly as it had burned.

"You fought well. I was more than impressed." He answered her heartily as he lowered his hand to help raise her from the floor. She accepted and rose nodding to Zane, then turning to her brother and Razafri.

"My twin, I almost struck you. Forgive me." She said to her brother, not stepping any closer to him. And she looked at Razafri and apologized to him as well. To which his reply was a simple nod. She remained where she was. Zane had seen this before. When someone is unquestionably defeated the columns that hold up their pride break and they fall. He hoped that she hadn't broken like Razafri had only a few months prior.

"Anastasia, let it all be in the past. All is well now." With nothing more to say to Anastasia he looked at Razafri. "Razafri, what have you learned from this?"

"If you use a larger bulkier weapon you leave yourself vulnerable to quicker attacks. It is better to use smaller weapons and be quick with them, than to be strong but slow." Razafri answered confidently.

"No." Zane's rebuttal was stern. "Fighting the way she did, with a two handed weapon is no better or worse than a fighting style like yours or mine, or anyone's. Even mages like Erestan. It is simply different. She was able to make up her weaknesses in other ways. She may not have been able to swing her blade as fast as I could, but her personal agility made up for her weapons bulk. It's all about what works for you as a warrior."

"I'm sorry master." Razafri answered his face unchanged though his confidence weakened.

"I am not your master Razafri. We have been over this." Zane answered even harsher. "You are free to do your own will; you are no slave of mine. But you missed the point I wanted you to see entirely. I may be instructing you in the art of battle, but do you even remember why you came to Whiterun in the first place?"

"I wanted to regain my honor mas- Zane." Zane smiled as Razafri stumbled over his words.

"Yes exactly!" Zane stopped him before he could continue. "I fought Anastasia to win her respect. With respect comes honor. No matter how hard she fought, I could not let my name be tarnished. A man's name does not change who he is, but who he is changes his name. The word remains the same but the power behind it, the respect and the honor, the sheer essence of your name changes with each pair of lips that utters it. Reputation is not everything, but it is a large part of honor. To let someone insult who you are, your comrades and your friends, in front of you cannot be accepted. You fight for you, your friends, and for your honor. Do you understand Razafri?"

"I do Zane." Razafri answered. He bowed his head and his long black hair fell into his face. Zane couldn't help but be proud of his pupil. Zane knew he was often overly harsh, but he only meant to push Razafri further. He had already made so much progress. If he were to turn back to his own ways Zane felt as if he would have failed his own. And that he could not accept. He would not fail Razafri.

Razafri turned to Erestan who seemed to be far off; his eyes unfocused. "You said there is a way out through the Dwemmer Ruins?" Erestan blinked twice then turned back to Razafri and nodded.

"There are always more than one entrance and exits to such places. How many I couldn't tell you, but they may also be caved in, and there's no telling what more we'll find inside. I have an associate in Markarth who is an expert on the Dwemmer and their ruins." Razafri turned to Zane waiting for instruction, as did Erestan and Anastasia.

Zane felt their weight on his shoulders, but this was not the first time he lead a group in a perilous situation. However to have a pair of Altmer and a khajiit as his only companions was a unique experience. He was a Nord through and through, but these days that seemed to encompass hatred for mer kind. Even their oldest allies in the empire have of recent times been thrown underfoot, hatred over their compliance of the white gold concordant that ended the Great War.

Zane had been a young man during the Great War and nothing more than a tradesman and a sailor, so he hadn't partook in the glory of the Nords. The empire was all but defeated until the Nords charged to their aid, and at great personal loss, helped push back the Aldmeri dominion. And the Empire thanked the Nords by signing the pact that made it a crime to worship Talos. It was a betrayal of the worst kind. But Zane did not blame The Empire, he blamed the Aldmeri dominion.

The civil war in Skyrim erupted to defend the Nord's right to worship their god. The Companions had stayed out of the combat, in fact all of Whiterun had. The Jarl had decided neutrality was the best way to keep his people alive. The companions felt the same.

Even with all of the politics and distractions in the air over the latest decades Zane had never hated the Altmer, or Bosmer, or Dunmer, or any of the beast races. Zane saw the world in a way not many Nords did. The world was supposed to be a place of freedom and respect, and the Aldmeri dominion was choking the life out of both. He had spent several years looking into them and all of their affairs and he knew that there was much more darkness within them than the surface betrayed.

"The only way to go is forward. Lead the way Razafri." He pointed in the direction they were headed and they left the battle site. Razafri took the lead, with Erestan beside him. Anastasia and Zane followed side by side, both of them weapons sheathed and calm.

The mist wasn't as thick as it had been before, but the silence took its place. With the exception of a few Dwemmer sentinels, and Erestan accidently setting off a trap (which involved the floor collapsing out from under him), they finally arrived at a great opening in the underground city.

As Zane walked beside Anastasia he felt something strangely familiar about the young elf. Maybe they had passed each other on a road in seasons past, or perhaps in his personal studies of the dominion he had come across her. If nothing else her auburn red hair stood out to him. It was a very rare color, and he could almost remember something from long ago, but it was just beyond his memories reach.

And ahead, much to the inner joy of Zane, his pupil and Erestan were talking and even laughing with each other. He heard Razafri mention Erestan's eyes in jest, and just for a moment the tense silence returned. Zane opened his mouth to rebuke Razafri for his rudeness, but just as he did, Erestan began to laugh. At first it was a small simple laugh, but it grew in warmth. Anastasia snorted at her brother.

"Shut up you fool. The Khajiit is ignorant, that wasn't a compliment." She growled.

"I'm afraid I missed what was said." Zane commented. He hoped that he could establish some sort of conversation with her as the other pair had done.

"Razafri thought that Erestan's eyes had well done war paint. He has a condition."

"He came out to fight the falmer while ill? That seems awfully brave." Zane said loud enough for Erestan to hear him as well.

"Not really." Erestan said from ahead.

"Yes you did." Anastasia shouted back at him. Then looked back to Zane. "He was born this way. He always has been like this, with the strange redness around his eyes. But that's just a physical symptom." Zane listened intently hoping that she would continue. Eventually she obliged.

"My brother is a prodigy of sorts. He is strong in the ways of magic. For a Nord to hear that they think of someone who joins the mage's guild or go to Winterhold for the college. But Erestan is much more than that. He is like a raging fire in the ocean. He is so powerful, but it doesn't last. It takes a toll on him physically. He is very weak, falls ill easily. In a battle, he is practically useless. But today he still breathes, so I'm more then impressed." She smiled wistfully in the dim light of the tunnel.

And then Zane remembered her. He knew where he had seen her before. It was before he became a companion, before he ever drew his first sword and before he had known the heartache of his later years. He could almost smell the ocean air from his memory, he could see small bare feet running in the warm white sand. Eyes that seemed to reflect as brightly as the shimmering city in the horizon. Her eyes and her smile, though achingly dulled by time had in many ways remained just as unchanged. Such was the way of elves, they changed without really _changing._ It made him smile just a little. '_So this is what she has become.'_

"I found the way out!"

They all turned to see Erestan pointing to a small plaque on the wall. "This is the way out!" He announced excitedly in his gentle way. "The runes say that there is an exit out this way." He paused then continued. "I'm rusty with my Dwarvish but I'm almost positive that that second rune there means "way above", so we should be going the right way. He hurried along, Razafri quickening his pace to keep up with the longer legs of the altmer.

Together they advanced down the hall quickly, all of them quietly filled with hope. At the end of the hall was a great golden door. "Here" Erestan smiled as he stood at the center of the doors. He put his hand on each handle and pulled. Neither of the swinging doors budged. He tugged again harder. Still nothing.

Anastasia approached the door on the left side and pushed on it, it slowly began to open. Razafri passed Erestan on his right, and together Anastasia and Razafri opened the dwemmer doors that had been shut for thousands of years. Behind the doors was a deep darkness. It was unlike the cave, which shimmered with mushrooms like the night sky with stars but this darkness was black as pitch.

"Razafri, what do you see?" Zane asked as they stepped slowly into the blackness. He wondered if even this khajiit's eyes could penetrate the depth of the darkness. Zane reached out a hand, but did not see it. It was a strange feeling to not see a part of you that you knew was there. He thought then, that perhaps this is what it was to be dead, conscious and existing, but in utter blackness. He pushed the thought back, remembering Sovngarde, the afterlife, in which Nord's drink merrily and reminisce about the glories in their life. He had not been claimed by Hircine which was more than he could say for most of his fellow companions. So Sovngarde was a great comfort to his aging mind.

"All that I see is darkness Sir." Razafri almost whispered the last word. Zane knew he was uncomfortable not calling Zane his master.

"Razafri, I am a peer, call me by name or simply don't address me."

"Yes sir."

"Allow me to illuminate this darkness." Erestan spoke and without hesitation his palms began to glow with a dim blue light. He released the light, that appeared as two small semi-solid spheres. They each went about a hundred yards, but the dim light was strong enough to light almost the entire room. They were in a great hall, with a ceiling far above them, with great pillars to hold it up. There were several sets of stairs, leading to different rooms, and platforms all around.

"This must be the city center." Zane said as he marveled at the sheer size of the room they entered. "This is hardly an exit. Erestan I think you need to work on your Dwarvish runes."

"Actually, Zane, This is the gateway." He pointed his thin finger to a small enclosure on the far side of the room. "That is the way out. If we were at the city center, I would need a hundred of my little lights to light the entirety of it up."

Zane stroked his beard and apologized. "If you are right, then we owe you a great deal for finding our escape route."

"Razafri pointed out the runes. Wouldn't have seen them if not for him. Besides, there is likely to be automated guards and traps around here." Erestan answered.

"I'll go ahead and scout the area." Razafri volunteered. "It's not worth the risk walking into an army of those things. There not so easy to kill, and none of you can be as quiet as I can be. I can see better, and can avoid the traps. I'll find us a safe path." Razafri made his sales pitch well. Zane wasn't surprised that Razafri was willing to volunteer, but to speak up about doing it filled him with pride like a father. Sometimes it was the simple things.

"Razafri, do you have any idea what these traps look like?" Erestan said. Razafri nodded.

"Let him go. If he dies, we go the other way. Simple." Anastasia was still slightly callous from before. Zane noted that she did not forgive easily, but ignored it. He could see she ran on conflict.

"Be careful Razafri. Do not take any risks. If something happens come back to us, we can fight as a group if we have to." Zane said.

Razafri took off his heavier armor, and his chain mail, and put them on the ground against the wall. Zane suggested that he leave them on for protection, but Razafri answered "I cannot be stealthy in heavy armor. I can move faster and quieter without it." Zane found that arguing would serve no purpose. He had to trust Razafri's judgment on this one.

"Don't leave without us Razafri." Erestan teased.

"I'll be back soon." And with that, Razafri left in a hasty jog, disappearing behind the shadows of the pillars.

After a few moments of silence Erestan broke it as he leaned against the wall for support. "How did you come across such an interesting Khajiit Zane?" He asked with over obvious intent.

By now they were both leaning up against the wall, patiently waiting Razafri's return. Anastasia was sitting cross legged, facing the other two, large blade in lap ready to defend herself.

"He came to my doorstep ready to die, and so I killed him." Zane answered with a slight smile. He knew the twins would want to know who he really was, but he would leave who knew about his past up to Razafri.

"He looks quite living to me." Anastasia chimed in. "He has more spring to his step than either of you." She laughed a little as she mocked them. Erestan obviously wasn't satisfied with Zane's response; he stared at him with his golden mer eyes.

Zane still didn't like the look of his eyes. Nothing at all wrong with Erestan, he thought he was quite upstanding for a mer. But there was something dreadful within him, deep within his eyes. It troubled the man. But there was nothing to be said or done about it, as whatever it was that worried Zane, was not a part of who Erestan truly was.

"He lives, but not as he had. He is learning the value of honor and respect. That is the only reason I fought you Anastasia. As to earn your respect." She and he stared at one another for a moment and after she nodded he continued. "Life is not simple for anyone, but turning the insides of you out, and recreating a new being is the hardest thing a man, or mer, can do. Razafri has died, and has been born again... And his efforts should be honored."

"When I was young, I was not the man I am today." Zane continued on remembering his own past. "I was not always honorable, in my youth I made dreadful mistakes. Even after I lead the life of a warrior, I have killed, when my blade should have been merciful. And through my mistakes, I've been the cause of death for those who are dear to my heart." Zane paused for a moment. His heart ached with old pains, but like arthritis in the hands it was a bearable displeasure. One you learned to live with.

They both looked at him with the same confused looks on their face. It seemed to Zane the proof that they were twins was neither in their appearance, nor in attitude but in the mannerisms they shared and in the slight gestures they made. Zane hadn't yet seen Erestan angry, but he was sure he would have the same fierce spark in his eyes as Anastasia had just a short time ago.

"But I have learned who I am, and I have grown from my mistakes. I have made a name for myself, not just in the Companions or in Whiterun. I have had many distinct honors in my life." He smiled and looked up to see his apprentice running toward them, with his sharp teeth showing in a smile that might terrify a child. "But those tales will have to wait for another time. Our friend returns to us."

"Don't mention his past to him." He added hastily in a whisper. "Or inquire about it. It may release the tension on the bow that is his mind. There's no telling where his arrow will be pointing when he lets it go." His warning as always was stern, yet kind.


	6. Chapter 5: Anastasia

**Chapter 5: Confession**

The sunset in Skyrim was one of the few things that Anastasia could actually appreciate in the war stricken province. The sun dropped slowly behind the mountainous horizon as gray clouds rolled over a red orange sky. Nirn's two moons Masser and Secunda were already peeking through the color splashed sky, still transparent and not quite at their full beauty. Merely a ghost of the moons they would soon become. While she watched, she could feel herself fall with the sun into a state of peace that very rarely came upon her.

One of the many things she did not appreciate in Skyrim was the crippling cold. Skyrim's climate never reached anything above mildly warm and it seemed to have no limit to how far it would drop. This day was a particularly cold one and as much as she enjoyed watching the sunset from the front steps of the Bannered Mare her need for warmth outweighed it and she rose from her spot, quickly heading indoors.

The local tavern was eerily silent. News of the deaths of several of the brave warriors who had gone to fight the Falmer had reached town. The townspeople hung their heads low in mourning. In Anastasia's opinion it had been such a useless thing to die for. She was sure she wasn't the only one who thought so; there had been Falmer in the cave but no massive army as it was made to seem. Although the Falmer had been startlingly close to the entrance there hadn't been any immediate danger. Everyone stayed silent on the matter though. No one wanting to tell the _heroes_ loved ones the truth.

Anastasia slowly walked over to the bar where her brother and Razafri sat. Erestan had offered the Khajiit a drink and the beast man politely but awkwardly agreed to the offer.

Razafri was a conundrum to her. He wasn't like most of the Khajiit she had encountered in Skyrim. He had a slight growl to his deep voice that betrayed his heritage but his common tongue was perfect and although he was mostly polite and had yet to be inauspicious, his sense of humor was lacking and he could be unnervingly quiet at times. He seemed awkward and in some ways disjointed. Erestan didn't seem to mind too much, he had easily accepted the Khajiit and was joyfully accepted in turn. But something about the old man's words didn't sit well with her. The Khajiit was hiding something from his past. She obediently kept quiet on the matter though. Her mouth had gotten her in enough trouble for the day.

She was still sore over what had happened in the cave. The heat of the battle had really gotten to her in a way that it hadn't in so long. She could barely recall the last time she had felt so angry. Perhaps it was the unexpected collapse and proceeding claustrophobia or even that she hadn't had to fight alongside someone in so long. Her adrenaline had pumped and she had acted recklessly. She'd worked herself into a blind rage where even her best friend would have become her enemy. And that damned companion. Showing her up like that…It would've pissed her off more if she wasn't so happy to have found a worthy opponent in Skyrim. Competition was always nice in its own way. It meant there was still room for improvement.

Beside her Erestan and Razafri laughed, a quiet yet warm song that flickered with the ever burning hearth and she audibly sighed. The worst part of the whole experience that day was that they had never got paid for their trouble. When they had all returned, the man that had hired everyone was nowhere to be found and there were rumors going around that he had skipped town upon hearing about the cave in. Word was that he hadn't really even cared about the Falmer attacking at all, he had just been interested in the cave itself; curious about the shimmering stones. As for the other people Anastasia had suckered into hiring her, they had conveniently forgotten about the arrangement or, to her great dismay, she got the common excuse: _"My dear Eleanor died in that cave in…she was the second cousin of my aunt's brother-in law. Oh how I'll miss her. Oh Eleanor, why you?! Now what were you saying, dear?" _Quite frankly she didn't have the energy left to argue.

Anastasia watched her brother tip the bartender. It looked as if the two had had their fill of alcohol for the evening. Razafri hadn't drunk much maybe a glass or two. Erestan even less. _He must be tired_. She thought to herself. If she was this exhausted then she knew her brother wasn't faring any better. She felt a slight pang of guilt for the way she had treated him in the cave but brushed it off. It wasn't like he'd expected any different. They were twins and had been extremely close for a long time. She would even go so far as to say that they had been best friends at one point, sharing almost everything when they were younger, including ambitions and dreams. Those days had come to an end in the last few years though. Time was a thief and it was the only culprit she could think of in their parting but this was only an excuse. She knew that in truth she had driven a stake between the two of them. She was quick to shake those thoughts off. They were unnecessary. What was would continue to be and she had not the will to fight it. However, the Companion's words to her brother still echoed in her mind: _"Your sister has called my honor into question. I cannot let that pass."_

_Honor_. The Khajiit and the old man threw that word around like it was a term for the weather. _Honor_. She didn't care about honor. How could she. She was the daughter of one of Tamriel's most powerful priestess' and her father a Thalmor highborn and she had thrown all of that out the door the moment she had decided to rebel and live her life the way she chose. No longer was she governed by social stigma or the laws of her father. The moment she had cut her hair and changed her name and, when she had chosen 'savagery' over elegance, adventure over knowledge and her most evil of deeds: her own needs over her father's and her own path over the one her own mother had taken years before her. She had thrown honor back in the face of her family name and even the Altmer as a whole and ran away with only her pride, barely intact.

She had bared a chip on her shoulder for many years. Many things had happened until the pressure within her had burst and she could no longer stand it. She had bid Summerset farewell in the dead of night and stowed away on a ship headed for a future far different and perhaps shameful but one she had chosen for herself.

She had never meant to call anyone's honor into question; she had none to lean on herself. Honor meant nothing, free will and pride meant everything. Still Zane who had honor to back up the force behind his blade had won their battle.

Razafri stood to leave thanking Erestan for the drink and then turned to Anastasia. He extended his hand toward her and she shook it briefly. He then turned around taking a couple of steps toward the door before stopping abruptly. His head hung low and his tail swung back and forth nervously as if some internal war raged within him. From what Anastasia could tell the man was on the losing side.

"Is something wrong? Khajiit?" Anastasia asked, confused by the odd behavior.

Razafri turned his head so they could see the side of his face. "Though you lost your spar with Zane, even I could see you are a mighty warrior, you deserve my respect and I am glad to have met you."

Anastasia and Erestan exchanged a glance but she smiled then, wide and unhindered. Her wide almond eyes creased at the corners. "Perhaps one day we can spar, and I can show you just how mighty I am."

He nodded just once and walked silently through the double doors the only proof he had ever been there was the chill on her face from the sudden burst of wind.

Anastasia's sunset had ended a few hours ago and with it her rare bout of inner peace. She tossed herself to the edge of the bed, half hanging off of it. She had changed from her armor to street clothes. They fit uncomfortably. They felt too tight in some areas and too loose in others and altogether too thin in the night chill.

"Brother? Are you awake?" She waited for a response from the elf lying on the floor. It was useless, he'd probably fallen asleep the moment his head hit the pillow. He'd taken the time to make a semblance of a bed on the floor as the inn still had no empty rooms. It didn't bother her too much tonight, the thought of being alone didn't sound so appealing for whatever reason. She was having a weird day, ever since they had stepped foot into that hellish glimmering cave she hadn't felt like herself. Restlessness and insomnia had become her companions ever since she was a little girl but the need for another living being's company had never bothered her so much as an adult. She debated whether to wake her brother up or not but that would mean giving into this sudden weakness, of course she could always tell him he was snoring too loud if he questioned her.

Deciding against it she kicked at her blankets in frustration. They wrapped around her legs in retaliation. _What's wrong with me?! _She practically screamed inside letting an angry moan escape her lips.

Erestan's voice rose from the floor, snapping her from her discomfort. He talked in their native tongue, a language not far from the common tongue but not the same either though it was not often used by the younger generation within the isles. "_You're still awake_?"

She did not answer but he continued to speak. "_I want to tell you the truth."_

"Then speak it." She snapped. He had been lying to her after all, he had an ulterior motive on his agenda and she had played into it.

"Father summoned me to Skyrim, he is stationed as the head of the Justciar in the stone city of Markarth." He paused and she held her breath. Had her family come after her to force her hand into returning home after all?

"Don't worry, I have not told him of your whereabouts. It was only by accident that you were both here in Skyrim. When he summoned me here I figured it would give me an opportunity to meet with you again, to see my twin after these past three years. When you walked into the bar I hardly recognized you. I suddenly wanted you to come home, to be Adonnenniel again.

So I brought up the cave to get you to trust me and I was going to trick you into coming to Markarth with me. I was going to beg father for his forgiveness that he might look your way again, that you might once again come home."

Anastasia squeezed the sheets in her fist, feeling her fingernails dig into her palm through the fabric. "I wouldn't have gone even with his pardon."

"I see that now. You truly have changed in these few years; you're not the sister I remembered in my mind."

Those words were hard for her to swallow; they felt painful in her ears. She retaliated. "And you have changed as well. You never would have tried to scheme against me before."

Her brother simply hummed in agreement. She chanced a look at him through the shadows, light that filtered beneath their door illuminated his thin silhouette. His hair was the color of moonlight.

When he spoke again his words were warm and also resolute. _"Though you cut your hair, changed your name, disobeyed our father, cast aside your birthright, And have run astray you will always be my sister. You will always have a place at my side."_

She didn't speak, any words she thought of were caught in her throat. Erestan, her beloved brother, persistently kind and forgiving though there was an edge to his kindness and a limit to his mercy. She was pushing the limit and teetering on the sharp edge of his love, if she responded wrong now she might lose him forever. He was, in some way, making one last attempt to reach out to her. If only he knew the darkness that had pushed her so far from home.

Finally she could think coherently. She didn't want to return home but she didn't want to break all ties with Erestan either. Her brother sat before her and if she abandoned him then she could never forgive herself. Some things it seemed were far greater than pride. Perhaps Zane had been right.

"I'll go with you Erestan." She choked out through gritted teeth. "To meet with our father that is. I have no desire in my heart to see him again or to return to Alinor, but I will try to make my amends if it will offer you some solace."

"Thank you." He replied as if not believing it and she almost wanted to take her words back, pull them from his mind and shove them back into her mouth and run far away from there, so far they would never find her again. It wasn't cowardice but absolute repulsion that made her feel this way. "It's all I can ask of you."

A long pause rested over them until she could hear the gentle rhythmic breathing of her sleeping twin. She let her own breaths follow his and before long she drifted as well. It was not restful sleep though. Nightmares of death and bloodshed and her mother's face assaulted her. She found this particularly strange. Anastasia had never met her mother…


End file.
