#sheev-la

With a hot meal in their guts and ample supplies in their packs, Sheev-La and Sevana made their way toward Bleak Falls Barrow, a mountaintop tomb looming over the village of Riverwood.  The Argonian couldn't help but wonder why anyone would settle with such an imposing piece of architecture so close by, but she supposed the village's namesake was profitable enough to live off of for generations.

The midday sun warmed the furs Sheev-La had lined her armor with, helping her recover more of her energy especially as her lunch settled in her belly.  Warm in every sense for the first time since she'd come to this place, the Argonian walked with a graceful, powerful stride.  Sevana couldn't help but admire both the shape and movement of her companion's hips and thighs, not even the fur-lined armor able to hide Sheev-La's mastered gait and fitness.

As they trekked up the mountain path, the evergreen mountainside slowly turned to gray and white, to stone and snow.  The road seemed abandoned, for which Sheev-La was thankful as her careful eye kept watch.

"Now that we're back on the road," Sevana started, casually perusing an instructional spell tome she'd purchased in town, "maybe we can talk about more positive things.  Like... what did you do before arriving in Morrowind?"  Sheev-La laughed, her breath pillowing forth in a puff of vapor.

"Gods, I was a gutter-snake."

"You?  A troublemaker?  No," Sevana teased, her heavy cloak billowing slightly with a stiff, chilling breeze.

"Oh, yes.  I was brought to Vvardenfell on a prison ship.  Before then, I was doing time in the Imperial City Prison."

"What'd you do?"

"I was a second-story woman.  'Acrobat' was my official, not-criminal title, but I hardly ever used that.  Being an orphan and a problem hatchling, I tended to lean away from people.  Made each encounter with the guards a puzzle to solve, just like figuring out how to get into a house to nick valuables."  Sevana smiled and laughed both in shock and amusement; the notion that such a hero had once been a struggling thief was something straight out of fiction.

"Hard to believe you were a common burglar before you became a historical figure."

"Oh, I was no common burglar.  Before I got used to boots, I could hang from roof tiles by foot and pick the lock of a window upside down.  I was an enigma until someone caught me in the act."

"A shame it's so cold here."

"Maybe I'll get used to it here.  I plan on settling down in Whiterun when I have the money to get a house, since it's warm and seems economically lively.  Well, when dragons aren't about, at least."

"I would hope so.  But while we're on the topic of your past, what did you do before you jumped into the House politics?  You came out of nowhere, it seems."

"Honestly... I was captivated by the land.  I knew I wouldn't be able to keep doing what I did in Cyrodiil there, since the architecture was so drastically different.  I mean, even if I tried, it would've taken weeks, maybe months to get it right.  With barely two coins to rub together, I had to learn how to survive on my own.  An outlander, one of the 'slave' races of the time, a former criminal... I didn't have anyone to count on but myself.  So, I spent a long time traveling the island, learning its ebb and flow firsthand.  I'd never embraced nature so wholly before."

"Sounds like you fell in love with Vvardenfell."

"I did.  I didn't realize it until much later, but it had always been home to me.  Even though I kept to the outskirts, I ventured into the cities and towns with regularity to peddle my spoils.  And, as cold toward me as the Dunmer were, I came to admire them.  I sympathized with their struggles.  And then... I learned about what was really happening at the heart of it all."

"What changed once you learned about the prophecies?"

"Everything.  I started paying attention.  I started seeing the Blight's impact.  And while I grew as a person, Morrowind was growing weaker.  I was no healer, but I did what I could to help those who could offer relief.  I spent weeks gathering ash salts and scrib jelly to donate to the Temple."

"How did you learn about the prophecies?  From the Ashlanders?"

"That... is a long story.  One that will have to wait, it seems," Sheev-La remarked with a frown, lowering her voice.  Nodding toward the slowly-approaching barrow, the Argonian slowed her pace and widened her stance, her keen, clouded eye spotting movement.  "I see three.  An archer, a fur-wearer with a big axe, and one with a sword and shield."  Sevana nodded, putting away her tome for later.

"Something tells me they're not friendly," the Dunmer mused, gathering a swirling mass of power in her clenched fist.  As though on cue, the archer shouted to their companions, nocking an arrow to launch at the pair of intruders.

Sheev-La didn't budge, or so Sevana thought until she looked to her side to see that the Argonian had taken cover behind a rock ahead, unsheathing a throwing knife from her bandolier.  How had she moved like that?

That line of inquiry didn't last long as Sevana refocused herself, channeling her power into a ball of liquid between her hands.  With the berserker and warrior making their way down a set of stairs heading straight for them, the Dunmer funneled the liquid toward them, forming a huge, deadly spear of pure ice.  It flew straight and true with a frightening speed and purpose, anchoring the berserker to the ground by way of his leg.  Though resistant to the icy spear's chilling nature, the Nord that had fallen victim to it still howled in agony, blood pouring from his leg with every unintended motion.

The warrior, startled by her companion's injury, didn't even get a chance as a sliver of leather-corded steel buried itself in her neck.  She slumped, dropping her shield and sword before succumbing to the darkness.  Again, Sevana hadn't even seen the Argonian move, but she had noticed the knife was no longer between her fingers.

The archer loosed another arrow, the shaft whizzing toward the Dunmer but ultimately landing in the tree trunk Sevana ducked behind, her assailant seemingly competent in at least leading their target.  Sevana waited a few more breaths, her heart pounding in her chest as she waited for the telltale impact of another arrow.  But the sound never came.

"You can come out," the Argonian called to Sevana.  "They're not going anywhere for a bit."

Leaning from her cover, Sevana spotted the archer clearly poised to loose another arrow... but they were laid down on the stairs, their joints locked in place.  "Did... did you paralyze that one?" she asked, a bit alarmed.  Only after she'd asked did she notice the Nord was down as well, having not even noticed he'd stopped screaming about his leg.

"Yeah.  She's going to have a lovely conversation with us about her friends," Sheev-La replied, grunting as she lifted the archer up by the waist and set her down.  The Dunmer's jaw was agape as she made her way to the stairs; she had expected Sheev-La to be competent in combat, but this was more frightening than she could've imagined.

The snap of the arrow nocked in the archer's bow brought Sevana back to the moment, Sheev-La rendering the weapon harmless for the time being.  Within seconds, the Khajiit girl regained her body's freedom of movement, eyes wide in terror as her bow twanged ineffectually.  "K-Khajiit will tell you anything, if you spare her!" she blurted out quickly, her accent thick and nigh on unintelligible to the Dunmer.

"Good, you know how this works.  I have three questions for you.  After you've answered, you're free to go.  First: what were you doing here?" Sheev-La started, her tone understanding and oddly comforting despite the dead bodies mere feet away.

"We were just raiding the tomb.  The locals have no idea the treasures they threw away, and their dusty dead have no use for them."  The Argonian nodded.

"Second: how many of you are here, discounting yourself and your former comrades here?" Sheev-La continued, gesturing toward the bodies.

"Eight.  Th-there are eight more in the tomb."

"Good, good.  Last question: I'm not going to catch you tomb-raiding anymore, am I?" the Argonian inquired, holding up a small pouch and dangling it before the Khajiit.  It jingled with promises of enough coin to at least buy food and shelter for a couple days.

"N-no, miss!  Khajiit thanks you!" the former bandit almost squeaked.

"Excellent.  The road to Riverwood is clear.  Get out of here," Sheev-La ordered her, dropping the pouch into the archer's hand.  The Khajiit gladly obliged, sprinting for town to preserve her own hide.

"Ancestors' mercy, what was that?" Sevana asked, offering a hand to the Argonian.  Sheev-La gladly took the hand, clasping it tightly and taking her assistance to stand with a soft grunt.

"What?  You know I've been at this for a long time."

"I know that, but damn...  I barely saw you move.  You were like an illusion."

"Precision and patience will outdo pure strength and cunning, in due time.  Stealth changes the pace of combat by forcing your opponents into an uncomfortable situation before they can adjust.  Everyone is their most vulnerable when they are unaware of important variables."

"I'll say...  I'm surprised I got a spell off before you were done with 'em."

Rain lightly fell as Sheev-La and Sevana ventured down the road to Riverwood, making their way to the road along the town's namesake river.  By midday, according to Sheev-La's estimates, they would arrive at the town where they could continue their trek to the barrow.  Plenty of time, Sevana thought, to probe the hero for information, learn more about the mysterious woman.

"So... shall we talk tactics?  Specialties?" the Dunmer started, giving her companion a gentle nudge.  The Argonian had been rather quiet since her outburst in the middle of the night, almost despondent, even.  "I mean, you're obviously an accomplished warrior.  It's almost laughable that I would be the one you would be assis--"

"I'm not that good," Sheev-La cut in, perhaps too harshly by her own judgment.  Sevana bit her tongue, simply hoping she hadn't pressed too hard.  "More swords are always welcome.  As with eyes and ears.  Keeps flanking and placement from getting too out-of-hand.  But yes... I'm good with a bow and swords.  I know some magic as well, but nothing involving the elements or healing.  What about you?"

"I was schooled in Destruction, Conjuration, and Restoration," Sevana started, relaxing a little.  "As you've seen, I keep myself in good physical condition, as well.  That extends to some weapon-based martial arts involving two-handed weaponry.  I prefer to summon such weaponry to give myself an offensive option once I've felt my magicka has depleted."

"That's quite the set of skills," the Argonian offered, forcing a smile despite her low spirits.  "I almost feel outclassed," she chuckled.

"Me?  Outclassing the Nerevarine?" Sevana jested in turn, smiling back at her.  "I think that might be added to my list of qualifications, if you don't mind."

"By all means.  Can't wait to see a prospective employer look at you as though you'd told them you were Tiber Septim."  Sevana laughed.

"I trust you'll be watching through the window, then?" the Dunmer teased, the Argonian laughing in kind.

"Indeed," Sheev-La giggled, glad to have someone to talk to again.  It had been so long since she had spoken earnestly with anyone.

Further down the road, after a comfortable lull in the conversation, the Dunmer began to fidget, something clearly bothering her.  Sheev-La couldn't help but suspect she had questions.  Everyone had questions for the Nerevarine.

"You don't have to hold back, Sevana.  Tell me what's on your mind."

"I don't want to overburden you with questions, Sheev-La.  I can only guess what the nightmare you had last night contained, and I doubt my imagination can even touch on what would terrify a hero."

"It was Red Mountain.  The... last time I went there."

"You don't have to talk about this if you don't want to," Sevana reaffirmed, a hand on the Argonian's shoulder.

"Thank you... but I think two hundred years is too long to hold onto these thoughts alone.  So long as you're prepared for knowing what only a handful of people know."

"It's almost like signing a pact with Hermaeus Mora," Sevana remarked, taking a deep breath.

"It very well may be.  Be cautious with this information, alright?  I'm not sure my heart could take another life lost to my story."

"I will.  Promise," she nodded, the Nerevarine taking a deep breath of their own in relief.

"Now... ask what it is you wish to ask.  Hold nothing back."

"Are you... actually Indoril Nerevar?  I understand you are Nerevar reincarnated, but... what exactly is the nature of your reincarnation?  His reincarnation..."

"I am indeed Nerevar, as they once stood and breathed.  For decades, I lived as Sheev-La, unaware of my memories until I returned to Vvardenfell and learned of my past self.  Nibani Maesa, an Ashlander wise-woman, was the one to awaken my dormant self, to unlock those memories I had hidden from myself.  Or... perhaps that Azura had hidden from me.  In either case, I awoke.  In that moment, and in all moments, I became and remain both Indoril Nerevar and Sheev-La.  In some moments, I affiliate with my past self.  In others, I am very much Sheev-La.  My self-image changes accordingly, and I know that must be strange, but... that is the way of such unusual things, it seems.  To return from the dead is no small feat, and Oblivion only knows how difficult it must have been for Azura to conjure my very soul."

Sevana blinked, feeling weighted by such an answer.  And yet, relieved in a way.  Such a mystery was never truly explored in the short time Sheev-La had remained among the Dunmer, and to have been one to ask such an intimate question, let alone to be met with such an earnest answer, was an accomplishment few could have aspired to achieve.  "Is... your existence a burden on yourself?  I can't imagine how difficult it must be to handle two lives' worth of memories, if not more..."

"Only when I think about it," the Argonian sighed, rolling their head back.  "Sometimes I'm reminded of events long past.  Terrible memories.  But, there are good ones there.  They... surface more rarely than the tragedies, sadly.  In fact... speaking about such philosophical concepts reminds me of Sotha Sil.  In the days of the First Council, we often ruminated on the meaning of fate, of destiny."

Sevana held her tongue for a few moments, giving them a moment to collect themselves.  She couldn't say if such a reminder was one to be cherished or one that brought them pain, but whatever they thought, she felt she couldn't interrupt that moment without their approval.

"Please, continue," the Nerevarine reassured her, managing a smile.

"I just wanted to give you a moment," Sevana comforted them, the Argonian nodding appreciatively.  "So... I suppose the big question is what truly happened at the Battle at Red Mountain?"

"Alandro Sul's account was... not too far from the truth, if you've read it."

"I haven't read it in years, if you don't mind recounting it.  I just don't want to push this too far if you feel you're not ready to relive it aloud."

"Thank you, Sevana, but in all honesty, I should have spoken up about this long ago.  People deserve to know the truth, and it was selfish of me not to publish my own firsthand account while I had the ears of the Dunmer.  But the story was as thus:

"King Dumac and I held the peace together, despite everything that happened.  It was Kagrenac who threatened everything, and Voryn Dagoth was the one to learn of the Heart of Lorkhan's discovery.  While Kagrenac toiled in secret, I confronted Dumac, flanked by my council and retinue.  I feared the worst.  But he denied knowing anything about the damned thing.  History confirms his account, but the pangs of perceived betrayal clawed at my heart after all we had done together, after the love we had shared.  I had the council call upon Azura to confirm Voryn's findings... and with her confirmation, I declared war on my lover.

"It pains me to this day that I didn't hold myself and the council at bay...  To think of all that could have been different...  But alas... we warred.  And in the ultimate battle, I had Vivec, Almalexia, and Sotha Sil direct my forces to draw out Dumac's own while Voryn and I crept into the Heart chamber.  Dumac and I battled fiercely, and I... I slew him... but he wounded me.  Mortally.  Voryn and Kagrenac battled alongside us, but Voryn was the clear victor, acquiring the accursed tools that had been used to make the Dwemer near-unstoppable.  Azura came to us in our hour of need and told us how to use the tools, which Voryn did.  However, in his workings, something... went awry.  Something no one could have anticipated.  The Dwemer disintegrated.  Or... at least their bodies did.  In an instant, the war was over.  I was bleeding, exhausted, and terrified at what we had done when Voryn came to me with the tools, begging for me to give him the order to destroy the things.  In that moment... I panicked.  I told him to wait for me and safeguard the tools... and he obeyed...  By all that is good and just in this world, he obeyed..."  The Argonian sniffed and shuddered as they thought back to that moment, their eye burning with tears begging to be shed.  Sevana gripped their shoulder, looking more than a little worried, but the Nerevarine collected themselves, clearing their throat and rubbing their eye.

"You can stop if you want..." the Dunmer insisted.

"No... no, it's fine," they assured her, groaning and doing their damnedest to power through the pain.  They had done it for so long; this was nothing compared to what they had suffered in the past.

"Voryn stayed... and I went to summon the council.  I'd ignored them for too long when it came to my alliance and intimacy with Dumac, and I was loathe to act without their guidance again, for fear I would make things worse.  I told them what happened, and then we returned to Voryn to consider our... our next course of action.  But he had already succumbed to madness... to lust for power.  Those cursed tools twisted his mind.  I can't remember who brought it to blows, but... we drove him off.  We took the tools back from him.  I was distraught...  I made my councilors swear to Azura not to sully his honor or memory by using the tools.  They swore on Azura... and Azura heard.  And then, when I... when I turned to face the Numidium... I felt something pierce my back and push further until everything went dark.  I was... I was betrayed..."

"You did what you felt was best," Sevana reassured them, turning to place her hands on the Argonian's shoulders and look into that tired, clouded eye.  "It had to be done.  To have your wits about you in that moment is a feat of endurance that songs are written about.  The fact that you were able to do anything so decisively after such a battle is nothing short of legendary.  You... are a hero, Sheev-La.  You stayed true to your station and your people in a moment of vulnerability."

"I didn't feel like it...  I still don't feel like it..." they whimpered, lip quivering.  The Dunmer hugged them.

The Argonian's body ached.  She could barely breathe with all the heat and humidity that surrounded her.  She was desperately exhausted, but she simply couldn't stop now.  Not when she was so close...

Pushing open the final, spherical entrance, Sheev-La laid eyes upon the great and terrible Akulakhan, the Second Numidium in its stone and metal womb, still under construction.  Enthralled Dunmer worked about it via suspended scaffolding, unfazed by her presence.  And, standing before her, was Dagoth Ur, unharmed despite the fact that he had been forced to discorporate mere minutes earlier.  The sight was disheartening.  She had already grasped the monumental task laid before her by Azura, but its reality had only truly sunk in at this moment, where her immortal foe's true scope was laid bare.

"What a fool you are.  I'm a god!  How can you kill a god?" Voryn scoffed, waving off his old friend dismissively.  "What a grand and intoxicating innocence..."

Sheev-La briefly considered prying open the spherical door behind her, if only to regroup and recover.  That thought was met with a stab of pain in her head, one she had felt before in her dreams.

"There is no escape!  No recall or intervention can work in this place.  Come... lay down your weapons.  It is not too late for my mercy."

The Argonian gritted their teeth and gripped Sunder tighter in the Dwemer-made gauntlet that protected them from its deadly aura.  Narrowing their burnt gold eyes, they stood tall, bedecked in enchanted armor gifted to them by their failed incarnates.  "No, Voryn.  This is the end of your campaign.  You have made our people suffer enough."

"Ha!  Rich words from a murderer," Dagoth laughed, weaving his elongated fingers in an arcane pattern.  Divine fire took shape between his hands, the Nerevarine charging in with incredible speed to try and disrupt his casting.  A swift sideways blow to the deity's ribcage caused the spell to fail, if only because he missed his target.  "I have seen your future, Nerevar," the deity continued, not missing a beat as he backhanded his old comrade.

The Argonian grunted at the strike, grateful for Wraithguard's protective wards and fearing that without them, their jaw would have been broken by the blow.  "Your bloodlust doesn't end here..." Voryn almost snarled, following up with a swift kick to the Nerevarine's chest.  The blow sent Sheev-La flying, their body colliding with a nearby pedestal built into the floor and holding an illuminating flame.  "Or perhaps I should say Azura's."

Swiftly rising to their feet, the Argonian shielded themselves with Wraithguard as Dagoth Ur levitated toward them at an unnerving speed.  The harmonic shielding reverberated at the meeting of the deity's clawed hands, detering him just long enough to let Sheev-La kneecap their foe with a low, sweeping blow with Sunder.

Dagoth turned with the blow, but the motion seemed too intentional as the deity took a knee and held up his hands in an insincere gesture of defeat.  "Oh, spare me, Nerevar!" he mocked them, laughing even as Sheev-La took the opportunity to bring Sunder's head down into the face of his gilded mask.  The two objects, seemingly unyielding to one another, bounced off each other, throwing the Argonian back into the pedestal and Dagoth Ur onto the floor with a grunt of surprise.

Battered, bruised, and still burning with fatigue, the Nerevarine winced as they ran their unarmed hand along the gut of their armor, making a run for the sloping outcropping carved into the cavern.  As they suspected, the armor had cracked, leaving them vulnerable.  They needed to end this swiftly or they would fail in their duty and doom the Dunmer people... no, all of Tamriel to Dagoth Ur's tyrannical rule.

"What are you doing?" Dagoth Ur demanded, his voice as clear and loud as though he were right behind them despite their distance. Sheev-La kept running, making their way down the loose spiral encircling the massive construct that stood in a pool of liquid fire.  The armor they wore slowed them down, but they endured, knocking away the enthralled workers that swung their tools at them.  They wished there was more they could do to save them, but right now, they had more pressing concerns.

The Heart.

It had to be cut free.

It was the source of all this tragedy, and its unfettering would finally end this conflict in one way or another.  Considering the circumstances, the Nerevarine had accepted that this could be their second death long before they stepped past the Ghostfence.  Now was the time to strike.

Shedding the armor with muttered apologies, Sheev-La sprinted, carrying each of their failed incarnates in their mind rather than their body.  They had to do this their way, as each incarnate had done before.  They had to validate them, to ensure their sacrifices were not for nothing.

"Nerevar!" Dagoth Ur shouted, nearly deafening the Argonian as they shed the last of their armor save Wraithguard.  They didn't have much time now.  They bolted for the walkway that led to Akulakhan's open belly, the nest of the Heart.  It was surrounded by a fiery aura and brass piping, the vampiric enchantments Kagrenac wove all those centuries ago still standing.

"What are you doing?!" the deity demanded, the Nerevarine now keenly aware of the imposing presence behind them.  Tucking into a roll, they felt a rush of air above them, completing the somersault and landing back on their feet to cross the bridge.

"Ending this!" Sheev-La shouted, nearly running into the Heart.  The bloated thing was nearly the size of their torso, still beating as though it still belonged to a body.  As they slammed the head of Sunder into its enchanted flesh, its flaming ward produced strings of light, each ringing with a different tone in a chilling yet harmonic chord.

"No!  Stop!"  Dagoth Ur sped across the bridge and grabbed Sheev-La by the shoulder, bringing his other hand down in a swipe across their face.  The Argonian screamed in agony, blinded by pain as warmth ran down their left cheek.  The Nerevarine dropped the hammer to cover their face, crumpling to the floor of Akulakhan's gut.

"No, no, no..." he murmured, silently cursing as he looked to Sunder on the floor, untouchable without Wraithguard.  The Argonian tensed and gurgled primally with agony.  Every moment and movement was pain.  They could barely see, and terror had seeped into their heart.  The fear of dying again was a toxin in their blood.  But, as they had always, they endured.  Crawling past the panicking deity, the Nerevarine drew Keening from their belt, plunging it into the heart with all of their might.

Sheev-La woke, sitting bolt upright as she panted with horror and clutched at her missing eye.  Tears ran down her cheek again, but, for once, someone was there to wipe them away.  "Are you okay?" Sevana cooed, hugging the Argonian close.  "You must have had a terrible dream..."

"So, tell me, Arobar," the Argonian started, setting her empty tankard down.  The Bannered Mare, a rather sizable tavern and inn nestled in the heart of Whiterun's market district, was surprisingly quiet.  No doubt due to the dragon scare, most had elected to stay home and drink their own reserves, though their doors remained open.  "How does a Redoran end up here in Skyrim?"

Sevana blinked in surprise, having not expected to have her family name recognized so quickly.  "You're quite knowledgeable, aren't you?" she remarked, impressed.  "My family fled Vvardenfell to Mournhold during the Red Year.  And then Blacklight after the Argonians sacked Mournhold.  About fourty years later, I was born.  Though House Redoran flourished with the rise of the New Temple, times were tough for my family.  Mercenary work was appealing, but fending off Argonian guerilla fighters was not quite so appealing.  So... I tried to sneak into Skyrim.  A border patrol caught me, along with not just a couple of Stormcloak rebels, but Ulfric Stormcloak himself.  Needless to say, guilt by association was the letter of the day.  They hauled me to some tiny village with an Imperial garrison and intended to do away with the lot of us.  In enters the dragon.  Landed right on the watchtower and started burning the place down.  I managed to save my own skin and a Nord lieutenant in the Legion."

"You dragged a legionnaire out of that?  After they were planning on beheading you?" Sheev-La inquired, quirking an eyeridge curiously.

"I may not be pleased with how the Empire is run, but I'd rather have rule of law than have the whole thing break down and go back to ceaseless wars.  Not all of us are looking for the next Tiber Septim to save the day and stop the nonsense," Sevana explained herself, scoffing.  "But yes... I saved his arse.  And, to his credit, he looked after mine until we got to the nearest town.  His family thanked me, and I came here to alert the Jarl.  Riverwood needs protection more than anyone right now.  They don't even have guards there."

Sheev-La nodded, her curiosity satisfied and her heart aching.  Gods, this is all my fault, she reminded herself, fighting off a burning sensation she'd become all too familiar with in the corner of her eye.  "You're a kind heart, Sevana.  Tamriel could use more like you," she sighed, closing her eye.

"What about you?  You seem as out-of-place here as I do," the Dunmer pressed, leaning forward to pick up her cup of water.  "How does an Argonian mercenary end up here in Skyrim?"

The Argonian sighed.  "You wouldn't believe me if I told you."

"Try me."

"Look, you're a critical thinker.  Anything I say in response to that is not going to sound as genuine as I would like it to.  So... you deserve the truth.  Not just for the fact that you'll catch me in a falsehood, but for... other reasons, too."

"I don't understand..."

"Let's talk upstairs.  There's a private room.  We split the pay, we split the room.  I'll sleep in the corner, you sleep on the bed.  And don't try to flip this; I'm trying to be nice."

"Sheev-La, was it?  Listen, I've had a very trying day and after seeing a godsdamned dragon, I think my tolerance for horse shit is low and my mind is open to damn near anything," the Dunmer began to rant, looking a bit indignant as she narrowed her eyes.

"Which is another reason  you deserve the whole story.  Come.  We'll talk upstairs.  I don't want people to listen in."  Standing up, Sheev-La walked over to the bar from their corner table, their meal long finished.  "We'll take the room upstairs for the night.  Thank you for your hospitality, especially under these circumstances."

"Thank you two for your custom.  Who'd have thought we'd actually get to sneak in some new clients after a day like today?" the Nord woman laughed, taking a handful of septims as Sheev-La and a hesitant Sevana handed over the pay.  "Enjoy your stay, ladies."

"Thank you, ma'am," Sevana nodded, stepping behind the Argonian as she headed for the stairs.  "This is the strangest day of my life...  Nearly being beheaded, dodging dragonfire, meeting a Jarl, and now sharing a room with an Argonian woman I just met an hour ago.  If all the other parts hadn't been so unpleasant, I'd consider this a fortunate end to a long day," she sighed.

Sheev-La couldn't help but look over her shoulder at the Dunmer, blinking.  That's going to change soon, isn't it? she thought, tensing with anxiety.

Closing the door behind them, the two women stripped away their armor, Sheev-La wearing little more than a pair of leather trousers and a linen vest that clung close to her modest bust.  Sevana sat on the bed sans her steel-plated armor, wearing a short-sleeved tunic that and trousers that reached halfway down her calves.  The Argonian exercised every muscle of her will not to stare, but it was difficult to ignore the Dunmer's cleavage and muscles.

"Alright... start talking," Sevana said, legs crossed and hands folded in her lap.  Sheev-La took a nearby chair and pulled it closer, sitting down and relaxing against the back with a sigh.

"How much do you know about Nerevar?" the Argonian started, head rolled back as she stared at the ceiling.

"What...  Every Dunmer knows about Saint Nerevar," Sevana replied, incredulous.  "I don't see how--"

"But nobody knows all the details.  Right?"

Sevana bit her lip, frowning.  "You're not answering my question."

"I am... I just thought I'd try to ease into it.  I was mistaken."  Taking a deep breath, Sheev-La lowered their head, their clouded eye meeting Sevana's gaze.  "I am Nerevar Moon-and-Star reborn, as ordained by Azura."

Sevana blinked, unsure if this was some kind of joke.  A long moment of silence passed before she spoke again.  "You were right... I don't believe you.  The Nerevarine disappeared over two-hundred years ago.  Off to Akavir, they said."

"I came back."

"How?  Why?  What happened in Akavir?  Why even go to Akavir?"

"I left because I couldn't stand the hypocrisy.  Nobody was interested in who I had become, just in who I was before.  I didn't intend to stay in Akavir for long, but they were... overtly hostile.  I lived off the streets for two hundred years because I simply couldn't acquire passage back home to Vvardenfell.  The Betty Netch was sunk, its crew killed, and I woke to a gang of pirate Tsaeci.  Thankfully, they were more curious than bloodthirsty.  It was only by stealing a tiny sailboat that I even returned.  And by then... it was far, far too late for me to come back as I was."

"We... we needed you," Sevana almost whispered, feeling her heart sink a bit.  A legendary hero stood before her, but all of the mysticism had been stripped away.  The Argonian that had saved Vvardenfell, all of Tamriel if accounts were to be taken seriously, had run away because of the people she saved.

"I was selfish...  I made a terrible, selfish mistake.  As I sailed back to Vvardenfell, I saw the clouds of ash and fire.  I... I couldn't look at the water for fear of seeing my own face," Sheev-La sniffled.  The pain they had endured, all the emotion they had shoved down just to keep walking was all breaking free again.  "I abandoned you all...  It's all my fault," they sobbed quietly, covering their eye even as tears streamed down their cheek.

The pit in Sevana's stomach dropped further, her quiet outrage dying in the face of the Nerevarine's guilt.  "You... you can't blame yourself for all of it...  The Red Year, the Oblivion Crisis..."

"The Red Year is my fault..." the Argonian sniffled, wiping their face.  "When Dagoth Ur was defeated, the source of their divinity fell with him.  Without it... Baar Dau fell."

"You...  No.  Dagoth Ur threatened all of Tamriel.  Defeating him was necessary," Sevana started, sliding off the bed and onto her feet to lay a hand on Sheev-La's shoulder.  "You are a hero, like it or not.  We praise the name of Nerevar to this day, look to your example for guidance.  You endured where so many fell."

Shaking a bit, the Argonian took a long, shaky breath.  Having never taken the time to mourn or come to terms with everything that had happened, they had simply tried to move on, an unhealthy and unwise decision in retrospect.  But now, they had someone sympathetic to them, someone who listened and offered words of comfort.  "I'm so sorry," they sighed, clearing their throat and hanging their head a bit.  "I didn't mean for this to... to go as it did.  But for what it's worth, I can't thank you enough for your kindness.  I... I really did need to talk about this."

"Then let's talk more.  You obviously have more to say, so let's get it all out," the Dunmer prodded, taking a knee beside the Nerevarine.

"N-no... small steps," they hoarsely whispered, taking a moment to cough and clear their throat further.  "I can't do all of it at once.  Gods know I've been through too much to talk about in one night."

That made Sevana pause in consideration, the Dunmer woman obviously deep in thought for a moment as Sheev-La wiped their face.  "Then we'll work on it.  Small steps," she offered, crimson eyes bright with hope.  "No need to do all of it at once."

The Argonian couldn't help but laugh mirthlessly.  "You sure about this?  We just met each other.  Life stories are the third date, if I remember correctly." "Well, we'll be working with each other, won't we?  Plenty of opportunities down the road."

Sheev-La scoffed, cracking a smile beside themselves.  "Y'know... we never even discussed our specialties like we meant to."

"I could show you one of mine, if you feel it would put you in better humors," the Dunmer offered, standing up and clapping a strong hand on Sheev-La's shoulder.  The sight of the Nerevarine, a legendary hero who had walked through hell and slaughtered an army of monsters, blushing at a Dunmer woman's touch made Sevana's heart flutter.

"I think I'd like that," Sheev-La nodded, looking up to the Dunmer and matching her gaze with her remaining, clouded eye.  "This isn't out of pity, is it?"

Sheev-La was an unexpected (and sadly, unwanted) child, so she grew up in a Cyrodiilic orphanage.  A perpetual troublemaker and thrill-seeker, she took to a life of petty crime with ease, settling into burglary and second-story work as her primary source of income as she came to mature.  Of course, she was ultimately caught and imprisoned, but fate had other things in mind for her and she was shipped to Vvardenfell to fulfill the Nerevarine prophecies.  She was exceedingly hesitant to play her part, but once her past life’s memories came back to her, she submitted to fate and became Azura’s agent.

At the end of it all, Sheev-La had slain Dagoth Ur, discovered Almalexia’s crime of murdering Sotha-Sil, killed Almalexia herself in self defense, and played judge, jury, and executioner for Vivec.  The Tribunal and the Sharmat dead by her hands, she left Tamriel to escape the burden of adoration of a willfully ignorant following and the trauma of battling literal gods.

From there, things get a bit fuzzy.  I haven’t fully fleshed out what she does in her time in Akavir, primarily out of lack of information about the continent and partially out of being lazy and/or busy with other projects.

As for other Elder Scrolls OCs, I do have a few, as a matter of fact.  :3

Amargo Bonetaker, a sphynx-cat-style khajiit necromancer who lives in Skyrim and peddles potions to fuel his research.  He’s a quirky one, but relatively benevolent compared to most necromancers.

Ji’Daashi, a big, soft khajiit monk straight out of Elsweyr who travels the land seeking enlightenment and opportunities to help others learn something about themselves.  A cinnamon roll, too good, too pure for this world.

But primarily, I’ve been playing as bab Sheev-La to pin down the finer details of her story as the Nerevarine.  She’s... turning into quite the oddball.

Sheev-La: *enters Caius Cosades’ house and delivers the note*

Caius: Oh, you’re the new recrui--

Caius: *notices that the deliverer is covered in twigs and leaves and caked with a mixture of blood, swamp water, and mud*

Caius:  ಠ_ಠ

Sheev-La: What?  Should I wipe my feet or something?

Caius: *inhales deeply*  Go sit outside while I think about this.

Sheev-La's heart was heavy as the cart pulled into the stables at Whiterun.  The sun was setting, bathing the road to the city gate in a mix of long shadows and warm light.  The Argonian hadn't said a word since her return to the inn, but had offered the driver a few more coins for the trouble.  Generously, he rejected them, expressing that he didn't need to know the particulars of her dangerous excursion or even understand what happened.  He was simply glad that she returned safely.  Sheev-La liked him.

Waving to the Nord, she began the short hike to the gate.  Water babbled under the drawbridge, the small creek snaking its way to a small pool nearby that she had passed along the way.  It was a miniscule comfort, but one that the Argonian was grateful for.  A few short steps further, she approached the gate, one of the armored guards approaching her in turn.

"Halt!  City's closed with the dragon about," he informed her, making Sheev-La laugh.  She needed that.

"How long have you been waiting to use that one?" she asked, waving him off dismissively.  "Have to say, would've been convincing if you hadn't used dragons."  Another step, and the guard drew his blade, the other producing his bow.  Sheev-La's smile immediately fell as she froze, her eye switching between the two tense Nords.  "Well, then.  How much?"

"I'm not joking around, lizard.  There really is a dragon in the realm," the talkative one told her, gripping his blade tightly.

"That's..."  Sheev-La was about to say 'impossible', but considering her day thus far...  "How?  They were wiped out, weren't they?"

"Don't know.  But the Jarl's ordered the city closed until it's dealt with," the other guard chimed in.  Sheev-La sighed, stepping back and rubbing her neck as she shook her head.

"So you just expect me to just camp out here until the city's opened?  With a dragon flying about burning the countryside?  These walls are meaningless to anything with wings, and forcing people to wait around out here for the gate to open only makes this a more appealing target to a predator that feeds on men and mer."  The guards looked to one another, a silent conversation playing out between them despite their face-concealing helmets.

"Fine.  But on one condition," the first guard finally answered after a few moments.

"Name it."

"You report to the Jarl.  Another outsider came in earlier with the news about the dragon attack.  We're gonna need all the help we can get.  You're a mercenary, right?"  Sheev-La nodded slightly, lips tight and eye narrowed.  "Good.  Then you should be fine."

"Done.  Now let me in.  I need a drink and a warm bed."  With a nod between them, the guards knocked twice apiece, which creaked as it was unblocked from behind.  The door cracked open and Sheev-La slipped inside, met by a handful of other guards who quickly barred the gate behind her and continued their work on reinforcing it.  She resisted the urge to mutter an insult under her breath despite her lack of patience.  They were only trying to find something to do to keep the people and themselves calm.  Agency under the threat of an insurmountable foe was a necessity to keep morale from plummeting, she acknowledged with a sigh.

Behind the gate and inside Whiterun proper, the sky darkened as the sun fell below the horizon, dusk reigning as a smattering of clouds floated above toward the east.  The city itself was surprisingly silent, its cobblestone streets empty.  No doubt, its citizens had turned in early to seek shelter in case the dragon actually showed up.  Such a thought still hadn't quite sunk in for Sheev-La; a dragon?  Here?  Surely, this was someone's cruel idea of a prank.  Perhaps some idiot mage's illusion or a deceptive gambit from either side of the war raging throughout the country.  Dragons had been gone for centuries, as far as she was aware, now nothing more than a topic for historians and novelists.  To think there could be one now, flying around and causing trouble...

Reminded of the stipulation to which she agreed to, the wandering mercenary turned her attention to the palace sitting atop the hill as she reached the market district's heart.  Her analysis of the map had been spot-on: a healthy number of shops lined the main street, and the center of the district had a large tavern among what looked like near-permanent fixtures for street vendors.  She could only imagine the bustle this particular area could generate during a more peaceful day.  But, with no one walking the streets along with her, she trekked uphill and past a large, leafless tree at the center of a plaza to head for the palace.

The guards that patrolled regarded her warily as she approached the palace doors, the Argonian holding her hands up and away from the sword at her hip.  "Disarm me if you must," she told them, looking around as a few more guards approached her from behind.  Her spine tensed.  "I was told to report to the Jarl at the city gate.  To help with this dragon business."  That made a few of them visibly relax, but one of them took the liberty of liberating Sheev-La of her sword.

"You'll get this back with Irileth's permission.  Understood?"  The Argonian nodded, the guards relaxing further as one opened the door for her.  Sheev-La's hands slowly lowered to her sides as she stepped in, looking up at the high, vaulted woodwork ceiling.  Compared to the "exotic" architecture she'd gotten used to over the years, such a simple look was rather elegant in its own way.  However, she wasn't here to admire some noble's palace; refocusing herself, the Argonian forged onward, stepping up to the main hall only to make eye contact with a slim Dunmer woman clad in leather armor... who didn't look pleased as she drew her sword and stepped forward.

Once more, Sheev-La stopped in her tracks, frowning.  Is everyone with some kind of authority in this city going to stop me at every step, she inwardly fumed.  The woman she could only assume to be Irileth approached the Argonian warily, her crimson eyes narrowed.

"What's the meaning of this?  I thought we had the city gates closed," she pointedly inquired, keeping a defensive stance in case the new arrival was a potential assassin.

"It is, but I talked myself in," Sheev-La retorted, tone flat and laced with ice.  "The guards instructed me to report to the Jarl on the matter of the... dragon.  Far be it from me to spoil my first impression in a city I seek to make residence in, I came here first to see if I could lend aid to the efforts to safeguard the city or hunt down this supposed beast."

"I'll need to have a chat with those two later... but they weren't entirely wrong.  We could use mercenaries and hunters to take the fight outside while we keep our guards about the city to keep the peace."  While Irileth spoke, the mercenary's eye wandered just behind her to the tall Dunmer woman clad in Nordic-style steel armor.  She couldn't help but admire her masculine frame, looking more a warrior than most men.  It took a moment to realize both that Irileth had stopped talking a moment ago and that she'd forgotten to breathe.

"Right.  Well, I'd probably be of more use with a bow in hand," Sheev-La admitted, looking back to the authoritative mer.  Irileth gave her an odd look, but said nothing, no doubt questioning that statement on the grounds of the Argonian only having a single eye.  "I don't expect this beast to truly be a dragon, but if it is indeed a flying beast, arrows will be of more use than swords."

"You have a point.  And speaking of swords, you may reclaim yours once you've spoken to Sevana here," the Dunmer continued, the woman behind her turning to face the two and stepping forward.

Sevana, as Irileth had introduced her, was a full head taller than Sheev-La and Irileth, her fur-lined steel armor covering her chest, legs, and forearms while a fur hood hung over her head.  What skin showed betrayed well-honed muscles that made the Argonian's knees a bit weak.  Her eyes were a bright blood-red, sharp and focused as they scanned the mercenary similarly, her sharp, angular features crinkling slightly in thought.  In spite of the hood, Sheev-La could see that Sevana's hair was cut in a bandit-style, shaved along the sides of her head and cut short in a strip over the top of her head.  Over her left cheek was a black ink tattoo of the Tribunal, a geometric, stylized left hand. "A pleasure to meet you," the tall mer nodded, extending a gloved, armored hand to the Argonian.  "Sevana Arobar."

"Sheev-La," the Argonian replied in kind, taking the offered hand and giving it a firm shake.  "So, we're hunting a dragon together?"

"Not quite yet.  First, we need to go to a tomb called Bleak Falls Barrow.  The Jarl's court wizard needs information, and he believes a stone interred within might help."

"It's always a tomb...  Right, then, are we camping?  Or are we not braving the road at night?" Sheev-La asked, hands on her hips.

"We'll take lodging for the night.  I'd rather not be ambushed by the dragon in the dead of night, even if we are awake."

"Good call.  Come.  Let's discuss our tactics and experience together.  If we're to act as a team, best to know what we're both capable of."  Sevana smiled at that.

1. Skyrim Theme Remix - Plasma3Music Remixes

2. Titanium - David Guetta ft. Sia

3. Bulletproof - La Roux

4. Your Touch - Blake Lewis

5. Renegades - Feeder

6. Gasoline - Halsey

7. Paralyzed - Mystery Skulls

8. This Is Gospel (Piano Version) - Panic! At The Disco

9. Elastic Heart - Sia

10. Self-Esteem Fund - Portal Soundtrack, comp. Kelly Bailey

11. I Am Not a Robot - Marina and the Diamonds

12. St. Elsewhere - Gnarls Barkley