A/N:

In victory, one does not understand the horror of war. It is only in the cold chill of defeat that it is brought home to you – Sir Arthur Conan Doyle

Lauraine dodged the sharp, swift paw that was swiped towards her face, the wind from the force hitting her face. Gritting her teeth, Lauraine swung the staff forward, three werewolves charging forwards to rip the attacking one to shreds. Her plan was, to be completely honest, fucked. The staff had only been able to control half of the attacking wolves, resulting in the second half attacking murderously on instinct. While this proved to be quite disappointing, and extremely dangerous, more of the attacking werewolves had fallen than the controlled wolves. Only a few of the soldiers had fallen, their remains however, devoured by a few of the werewolves to regain their strength.

Unsheathing her blade, Lauraine placed the staff across her back, throwing her katana through the air towards an advancing werewolf. Running the blade up through the abdomen, she quickly pulled it out; ramming it behind her into a crouching wolfs brain. The resulting howls were loud, causing Lauraine to lose focus momentarily.

A loud growl hit Lauraine's ears from the left, catching her attention.

Seeing it before she had a chance to move, the werewolf launched itself through the air towards Lauraine from ten feet away. Turning slightly to face it, it hit Lauraine head on, sending her crashing to the ground. Heart stopping with fear, Lauraine stared into the blood lusted eyes of the wolf, realizing that it wouldn't be letting her go any time soon. Blade resting too far out of reach and the staff trapped beneath her back and the grassy bank, Lauraine closed her eyes tightly, waiting for the wolf to sink its teeth into her throat.

Martin trudged through the thick pools of blood that soaked the grass, the mass of limbs and bodies surrounding him causing bile to rise to the back of his throat. Swallowing it, he stared at the few survivors, all of them wounded or shaken. Hircines broken sword lay clattered on the ground, the point still embedded in one of the enemy mages throat.

"Sir, they're all dead."

"Funnily enough, Eric, I'm aware of that. Take a look around, does the tangles of enemy and allied limbs not spell that out for you?" Snapping furiously at the small Bosmer solider, Martin rolled his eyes as the man scarpered towards the makeshift tent that had only just been put up. Following close behind, he collapsed down onto a bedroll, observing the men inside.

"Only seven of us survived? We went out there with fifty!"

"Well sir, there was over two thousands of those magical beings. I for one think we're lucky to even be alive."

"Not helping Guerevyn, not helping." Shaking his head, Martin glared towards the ruined portal visible through the tents fabric door. The archway, magnificent and captivating when it had appeared, was now cracked and broken, one half of the thick stone caving in.

The soldiers in the tents were now cursing loudly, the wounds on their body ceasing to heal. Martin took sympathy on the youngest, which couldn't have been older than seventeen. Bending down next to the sobbing boy, Martin used the same spell he had once used on Lauraine to heal his many wounds, wincing with the boy as the bits of glass, wood and silver dug their way out of his back.

"That's going to leave some scarring. I sympathise for you. So young, yet having to witness and take part in the deaths of thousands. Get some rest." Patting him on the shoulder, Martin quickly left the tent, his stomach sick with worry for those in the battles which included werewolves. Many of the survivors would no doubt contract Sanies Lupinus, and should they fail to cure it... Martin shuddered at the possibilities.

Martin was just about to turn on his heel to re enter the tent to help the remaining soldiers, before he felt the familiar sensation of falling through glass as he was pulled through the floor, landing on the marble stairs to Azura's throne. Head dazed, Martin stared up at the daedric prince, starting to get extremely annoyed for being dragged there without warning. The moment he locked eyes with Azura, a horrible screaming sound entered his ears, his eyes clouding over.

The haze clearing, Martin's eyes refocused to witness the Battle on the edge of Anvil, before searching and landing on the object of his searching eyes.
The battle was raging around them, but Lauraine lay on the floor trapped beneath a werewolf and the floor. Her eyes were tightly clamped shut, the wolf on top of her leaning down to rip out her throat. Heart stopping with shock and horror, Martin was forced to watch as the wolf sank its teeth into Lauraines neck, biting hard before it pulled back sharply, blood spattering the grass and covering Lauraine's face and the werewolves fur. Some force was forbidding him to close his eyes, forbidding him to turn away as the werewolf continued to devour the rest of Lauraine. Eyes starting to leak with unwelcome tears, Martins eyes started to cloud, before focusing his sight back into the castle of Azura, staring into the dark depths of Azura's eyes.

"I told you to take care of her!" Azura's voice was unusually calm for someone who had lost an adopted daughter. Eyes brimming with tears, Martin shook with a heavy sob, looking up at her.

"Why did you make me watch that? I can't believe it... Dead."

"Don't be ridiculous! You think I would allow that to happen to Lauraine? No. I saw that event happening a few hours before it did. Realizing you were too busy somewhere else, I have sent another mortal after her. Besides, even if she was dead, she'd be standing next to me scolding you for your ignorance!" Azura glared towards Martin, as if she was blaming him for the death that hadn't even happened yet.

"Please don't tell me you sent that ridiculous Lachance-"

"No, instead I have sent someone who will be pleasantly surprised to see Lauraine. Two people, actually. Observe." Azura beckoned to the mahogany table at the left of her throne, allowing Martin to gaze upon the battlefield. Lauraine lay in the same position as before, only this time, Martin knew it was real.

Eyes clamping together even more tightly, Lauraine waited for the sharp teeth that would undoubtedly sink into her throat in a few seconds. Therefore, she was extremely confused when the swishing sound of two swords moving through the air caught her ears, followed by the dead heavy weight of the werewolf collapsing on top of her. A middle aged woman, face obscured by her hair, pushed the body off hers, whilst a younger, pretty woman the same age as Lauraine pulled her up from the floor.

Glancing into the younger woman's face made Lauraine even more confused. Although slightly taller than herself, Lauraine assumed she was most certainly looking into a mirror. Only difference was, the girls eyes were a brighter blue, the jaw line slightly less defined than her own, and a bluish tint to her skin signified she was part Dunmer. Lauraine turned swiftly to pick up her staff, halting more werewolves to help the men who were battling. The young woman held out Lauraine's ebony Katana, a wide smile plastered on her face.

"You were right mother, she does look like me." The young girl turned to the woman who accompanied her, who was busy fighting off an approaching werewolf.

"I told you! Just don't call her grandmother. She may not like that." The woman shouted towards her daughter between every clash of her sword. Lauraine immediately pointed the staff towards the attacking wolf, halting its tracks. Pleased at the wolfs abrupt stop, the older woman turned to face Lauraine, her sparkling bright blue eyes locking with Lauraines own. Instantly Lauraine recognized her. Hair perhaps only a tone darker than it was years ago, her face was still young, still proudly showing high cheekbones, a button nose and a defined jaw.

"Well mother, not the circumstances I imagined meeting you again in, but nevertheless, I'm still glad to see you. Bloody hell, Corbyn was right, this is weird." Karyssa stared up at her mother, feeling extremely strange that her mother was the same age as her daughter.

"Karyssa?! What the bloody hell are you doing here? And who is this?!" Lauraine beckoned towards the young woman next to her, before promptly turning around to run her sword through the neck of an approaching werewolf.

"You're more shocked than I am. Mother, this woman who happens to look a lot like you, is your granddaughter. Hell, I'd say you were sisters though." Karyssa frowned, jumping slightly as her daughter's sword flung through the air behind her, hitting another wolf square in between the eyes.

"This is Lauraine-Alessia?! Akatosh's mother, I suppose she's worth the pain you went through. Where's her brother?" Lauraine watched as the young girl moved forwards to pull her sword from the wolfs head, slightly shocked at the appearence.

"How do you know about her brother? How do you even know her name?!" Karyssa locked eyes with her mother, a look of confusion etched across her face.

"I had no choice but to watch you giving birth. It was either that, or watch Martin in the next room moping about how 'I wasn't there to see it'. It seems twins run in the family. Mind you, I think that when you smacked your head off the wooden part of the bed, I'm amazed you stayed conscious." Lauraine smirked as her daughter scowled, before they both turned their backs to each other to fight respective wolves.

Martin stared in shock at the wooden table, the scene before him both awing him and scaring him. Lauraine had had a close call with that werewolf, the arrival of his daughter and granddaughter being purely lucky. But then again, Azura had sent them, so it should have been obvious that Lauraine would survive the battle. Lauraine was currently muttering the spell for the portal to Moonshadow to open up, the battle having ended hours ago. Lauraine had spent the next few hours after the battle conversing with her daughter, and learning about her granddaughter. He watched as she gave them both a quick hug, before running into the portal and emerging inside the castle.

Unfortunately for Martin, Lauraine was still running when she exited the portal which opened directly behind him. Her weight combined with her speed forbid her from slowing down in time, sending her flying into Martin and down the steps to Azura's throne. Tumbling down, they stopped a few yards away from the first step, in the middle of the castle's throne room. Lauraine was trapped between him and the floor, her cheeks a flushing bright pink.

"Um... Well this is awkward." Smiling awkwardly up at Martin, she disappeared from underneath with a small poof, leaving behind a few grains of sand. Reappearing next to Azura a millisecond later, she smirked down at Martin as his face hit the floor from momentarily suspending in the air. Lauraine whispered something to Azura, which was replied with a solemn look and a shake of the head.

"Master Septim, if you could please come up here for a moment, we have something we need to discuss with you." Azura's voice filled the throne room, echoing in Martins ears as he clambered up the stairs.

"Yes my lady?" Martin sent his question towards Azura, but it was Lauraine who answered.

"There is one more battle that must be fought. One that must be fought by you, and you alone." Her face was grim as she told him this, fear flashing in her dark blue eyes. Shifting slightly, something gold flickered underneath her cloak for a moment, before she snapped him back to reality with a glare.

"I'm sorry... What?! Who do I need to battle? Why only me!?"

"Calm down Martin. Listen. To end this madness, you must fight against Hircine. For how long, I do not know. But you must do this."

"Why must I?"

"She cannot fight with you. At least, not for a while. When the portal opens once more, you must step through and face the Daedra Prince." A tone in Azura's voice swayed Martins mind, his brain suddenly having a strange instinct to fight.

"I cannot go through until I find a suitable disguise. Should Hircine recognize me, I put Azura and her allied princes in danger. Do not worry Martin; just injure him enough until I can help you." Lauraine shifted again, an amulet slipping through the folds of her cloak. Martin stared at the familiar gold amulet, remembering the time he gave her it. Lauraine's eyes stared towards a wound on Martin's leg, abdomen and arm, her body shifting once more.

"Oh for goodness sake! Stop fidgeting and do what you must Lauraine. Meridia knows you've been waiting for a chance to do that." Loudly, and quite angrily, Azura glared towards Lauraine, before sighing in defeat and ordering one of her Moonservants to bring Meridia from the Library. Lauraine stood up to her full height, reaching up and giving Martin a slow, tense kiss. Before he could wrap his arms around her however, Lauraine pulled back, smirking deviously at the look of shock upon Martin's face. Her cheeks flaring up in a blush, she turned quickly on her heel and disappeared behind the white double doors after the Moonservant. When she disappeared, Martin looked down at his wounds, yelping in shock at the faint scars that took their place.

"How did she-?" Martin was cut off by the loud rumble that signified the appearence of another portal, his stomach dropping at the familiarity of the blood spattered arches.

"Well Master Septim, step through. I have no wishes for a werewolf to enter the castle just to retrieve you."

Azura glared towards Hircine, her back teeth gritting painfully. She noted that, barring Hircine, she was in the exact same room, with the exact same people that were present sixty years previously. Only this time, there was no sobbing little girl trapped with Nocturnal.

"You mean to tell me... That you were never even going to take over Tamriel? You're telling me that it was for - and I quote-'the thrill of the hunt?!'" Azura's voice was rising in pitch, her left eye twitching much like Lauraine's usually did. Hircine observed the people present in the room. Peryite stood in the corner, shooting glares towards Namira who stood on the opposite side of the room. Meridia stood by Azura, her arms folded and her hair tied back. Mephala stood by Molag Bal, her mind distant as she too remembered the scene sixty years prior to this day. Sheogorath stood stroking his beard, watching the spat between Azura and Hircine.

"Yes, I am. I have no need for a realm such as Tamriel. Although I must admit, the boy and his hooded friend were amazing fighters. I am sure I would have lost, even without the arrival of his hooded friend. "Hircine smirked lightly, before disappearing into thin air, leaving behind only a few blue grains of sand. Meridia rolled her eyes, casting them over towards Nocturnal when she spoke.

"Azura, am I right in thinking you are remembering the events the last time we were in this room?"

"Yes Nocturnal, you are. Why?"

"Oh I'm just wondering. May I ask how the child is? I suppose she is no longer a child anymore. Is she turning old and frail like all mortals?" Nocturnal smirked, her eyes spelling mischief. However, this look was banished at the cool cackle that left Meridia and Azura's lips.

"Oh Nocturnal, you could not be any more wrong. The child is anything but. We are all Daedric Princes, are we not? The girl, however, is a daedric princess." Meridia glanced around at the others as she said this, her eyes flashing with deviousness.

"What?!" Mephala, Molag Bal, Peryite, Namira and Nocturnal all snapped their eyes to Meridia, shock and horror written across their face. Sheogorath and Azura seemed unfazed.

"Meridia is right. We are Daedric Princes, purely because there are no higher commander than us seventeen, nor can there ever be any higher. The child however, is only one rank below us. She rules no specific land, yet can come and go as she pleases. After Nocturnal brought her to this meeting room, the magical energy radiating from us fused with the girl, giving her power and immortality. So, to answer your question Nocturnal, no. The child is frozen at the age of twenty-one, with beauty beyond which you could ever wish for. Paler than Namira, but darker than me and Meridia.

'I must thank you, however, as I have experienced the certain pros of having another place their utmosts trust in me. I must say, it is an overwhelming feeling when one knows that another being depends entirely upon them, when you know that they trust you enough not to dispose of them in the clicking of fingers. The girl is, so to speak, Daedric. She even has the ability to go from one place to the other in seconds, leaving only our signature sands behind. Same powers to open up portal's to the realm of which she lives, and no blemish stay upon her body for longer than a week." Azura held back a restrained laugh as Nocturnal's face fell, utter shock and disbelief filling her features. Disappearing from the room in the same fashion as Hircine, Nocturnal left behind only a few black grains of sand.

"Of course. We, unknowingly and perhaps, unwillingly, turned that girl into one of us. I'm willing to bet all the cheese I own that Nocturnal is slowly regretting the actions she made all those years ago. The only Deadric ruler with a normal name." Sheogorath spoke up, pulling at the end of his beard. "Oh, Azura, could you perhaps tell Miss Bellamont that Haskil wishes to see her again. He simply cannot file all those clowns into the right parts of Mania. Or was it clouds?" Disappearing, he too left behind golden sand in his wake.

Azura opened up her own portal, not fancying the idea of momentarily turning into sand. Beckoning Meridia towards her, Azura moved into the portal, allowing it to remain open until Meridia stepped through.

"Martin! You can't even sneak, let alone follow someone! Why the hell didn't you stay behind?" Whispering harshly, Lauraine glared at Martin, him being the cause of them being forced to hide behind the low wall just outside the door to the Temple district. Hovering dangerously on the concrete ledge, should they move backwards even an inch, one of them would be sent flying into the pool of water behind them.

"I can't help it! I've never had a day's training in my li-"

"Shhh! He'll hear us! Then the entire thing will be blown, and I don't fancy walking around with a homicidal double chasing after me!" Slapping him upside the head, Lauraine cast her eyes up over the small wall. Her eyes tried to seek out the Dunmer Scholar, yet he was nowhere to be seen. Quite suddenly, the black hair and red eyes of the man they were pursuing looked up over the wall at them, his eyebrows raised. Stepping backwards in shock, Martin almost fell over the ledge and into the pool of water, had he not flung his arms out to grab the closest thing to stop him from doing just that.

That 'thing' happened to be Lauraines arm. Giving a small squeak, Lauraine was pushed backwards into the water as Martin steadied himself, her eyes stinging from the dirt in the water. Twisting whilst under the surface, Lauraine's mind hazed at the growing throb of pain in her temple. Unable to tell which way was up, she started to thrash violently, until a strong hand pulled her upright, out of the water. Wiping her eyes, Lauraine glared over towards Martin, her left eye twitching when he awkwardly pulled a lily pad from her hair.

"Um, you've got a little-"

"I know! Mother of Akatosh, why in the –" Cut off from her rant by a raised hand from the Dunmer, Lauraine noticed the arm of his shirt was soaked, indicating that he pulled her from the water.

"Why were you following me?" The Dunmer asked, a tone of suspicion lacing his voice. He stared uneasily towards Martin, who was observing Lauraine in her sopping wet state.

"Ignore him; I'm the one who needs to talk to you." Lauraine snapped the Dunmers attention to herself, ignoring Martin's curious stares herself.

"Why do you seek me, my lady?"

"You are in possession of a book I will find useful. It is a black magic tome, to do with certain forgery. You know the book of which I speak?"

"Ah yes, a black and red tome, with the symbol of Necromancy and The Black Hand seal in the corners of the backing. However, I am not willing to give you this book." He smirked, his eyes flashing humorously.

"Why not?"

"I would prefer to just tell you the solution. Therefore I am not sacrificing my book. Pay me fifty Septims, and I will willingly give you the answer." The Dunmer held his hand out expectantly, his smirk widening at the small money bag Lauraine gave him.

"Thank you, my lady. Surely you know how much money I need for my studies. The answer to your case is simple. You kill the skeleton. It will mentally hurt you, the pain will be unbearable. But you must kill it. If anyone else does it for you, you will surely die." Titling his hat as a small sign of respect, the Dunmer walked away.

"I can't believe you just gave him fifty septims for two sentences of information." Martin tutted, shook his head, and started to help Lauraine out from the water.

"I didn't, I gave him fake money."

"Smart. You know, your hair is much longer when it's straight and wet. I thought it was long when it was curled, but this? Wow-"He was cut off by the slapping of a wet piece of fabric upside his head. Wincing as a white hot pain slashed across his senses, he cursed rather loudly, causing few women to stare. Lauraine was still stood next to him, swinging around the wet hair tie dangerously.

Martin winced, clamping his hands over his ears at the screams that Lauraine was letting lose. He had arrived with her to dispose of the skeleton, and it had gone well until Lauraine had accidentally missed the place where the heart would be, instead cutting off the rest of the Skeletons head. It had died, that much was certain, but Lauraine was screaming a thousand murders as if she was surviving a beheading. Rolling around in his arms, she was clutching at her neck, Martin not even beginning to understand the pain she was going through. Unable to stand watching like this, Martin pressed his thumb into the space just under her ear, pressing hard upon the pressure point until her screaming ceased, her body going limp and her mind drifting to unconsciousness.

When she awoke an hour later, she was most certainly groggy, and momentarily loopy. Giggling uncontrollably, she was twirling locks of Martins hair and commenting on its colour, before a look of utmost horror etched across her face, her hands retracting and her giggling ceasing. Her mouth opened to a pleasantly surprised 'O' when she noticed the skeleton laying very much dead on the floor, noting how her skin seemed to have a slight pinkish hue to it, much like Azura's did. Turning on her heel to face Martin, she stared up at him in gratitude, her face darkening in a blush.

"Thank you Martin, I don't know how I would have gotten through all this without you. Despite the many 'incidents'."
"Well, what do we do now?"
"What do you do now, is what you mean. I'm going back to Moonshadow, I don't belong here anymore." Lauraine looked up sadly at him, pressing her hand to the wall behind her to open up the portal.

"What? Why can't you stay? I practically just found you!"

"I know... Sorry, but I can't stay here. I don't need to explain my reasons." Lauraine held his cheek in her hand, attempting to tell him that she wanted to stay, but could not. Whether he understood, she did not know, as at that moment, she heard the portal opening and stepped backwards through it, smiling sadly as the white light filled through the room before disappearing altogether.

Lauraine pulled the silver pitcher from the water, aimlessly watching as a few droplets dripped off the bottom and caused a ripple effect in the water. Quickly turning away before she got too mesmerised by the beauty of the Gardens, she quickly made her way into the castle with the pitcher, careful not to spill it down her dress. Her dress, Much like Azura's in colour and style, had lose straps that hung loosely on her shoulders, was white, and flowed down to the floor. Accompanying it with a sash that draped over her arms, Lauraine had her hair in its usual style, curled and hanging loosely down her shoulders and back.

Azura did not look up when Lauraine entered the room, only speaking when Lauraine had set the pitcher down next to the mahogany table. Lauraine herself glanced into the table, smiling when she saw the two men speaking to each other, the younger's body solidifying, slowly getting younger. Around the same time, a ghostly figure started to appear in the middle of the castle throne room, his face taking on the expression of surprise and shock. After sixty years of being separated, Lauraine could only smile down at Martin Septim, chuckling lightly at Azura's next sentence.

"Welcome, daedric princess."