There and Back Again: Sauron's Tale

Chapter 5: Waking a Sleeping Dragon

Author's Note: Finally we end up returning to this story after quite some time! Provided my update schedule has been followed, this chapter should be posted shortly after I post the latest chapter of Nightmare Incarnate. I'll go ahead and say this, this chapter is not as long as that one. I'm keeping this at a more normal length for now, since you readers just got a gigantic chapter so soon. That and if I wrote this chapter out to be that length, it would probably be another month or more before you end up seeing it, so this works out. At least, in my mind that is. So without further ado, here is the latest chapter of There and Back Again.

It was another day in the Arcanaeum, and Urag was feeling rather pleased with himself. Having had a nice breakfast, he proceeded to set loose a pair of Atronachs to "reacquire" some late books from some apprentices. Granted he wasn't allowed to let the Atronachs tear them apart as a reference to his usual threat, due to the Arch-Mage forbidding him from killing any more students, (Aren's reasoning being that the College didn't need even more of a negative reputation than it already had) but it was still entertaining for him to see the apprentices dragged back into the Arcanaeum. He then meticulously checked each book and scroll for any kinds of damage, be it stains or tears. Upon finishing his work, Urag replaced them in their proper places. Smirking, he sat back down behind his desk and pulled out a book to read.

His reading was interrupted by the appearance of one of the only apprentices he actually tolerated.

"I'm sorry to disturb you Urag," Annatar said politely. "But I'm in need of a book from your collection, and I believe you might know where it is."

Urag glanced up to see the white-haired apprentice smiling kindly at him. Carefully closing his book and setting it down, Urag turned back to Annatar.

"You'll have to be a bit more specific than that Annatar," he grunted. "Unless you give me a title or a subject then I can't help you."

"My apologies. I was simply wondering if there are any books about the Daedra?"

Urag froze.

"Daedra? What in Oblivion would you need to know about them for?"

Annatar sighed. "Urag, you do realize my main area of expertise is in fact Conjuration, remember?"

"Point taken. But still, it's odd for someone like you to ask about Daedra."

Annatar's expression didn't change, but unnoticed to Urag his eyes flashed gold for the briefest of instances.

"As a Conjurer, it would be beneficial for me to learn about the different planes of Oblivion, as well as their denizens and rulers. Surely you can understand, as a fellow summoner?"

Urag thought for a moment. Daedra were a tricky, as well as somewhat controversial, subject to study. Especially when the Princes got involved. The Orc was skeptical. He didn't want to be the catalyst to a second Oblivion Crisis. The first was bad enough, and probably would had eradicated Tamriel if Martin Septim hadn't sacrificed himself like he did.

But Annatar's track record was spotless as of right now, and he was the most careful mage in the College in terms of experimentation and practicing spells (save for maybe Tolfdir). He also had shown that he was never one to use magic for ill purposes, as far as Urag was aware anyways..

"Fine. I'll see what I can dig up. Wait here."

Annatar smiled and nodded his head in thanks. Urag stood and began rifling through the shelves. Finding what he was looking for, he walked back and set down a stack of books in front of the apprentice.

"Here. You know the rules. Harm these books, and I'll have you torn apart by Atronachs."

"Of course."

Annatar picked up the stack and walked over to one of the tables. Setting down the books, he channeled magicka to his hand and released a Candlelight into the air to hover beside his head. Picking up a leather tome, he opened it and glanced over the title.

"Book of the Daedra?" he mused. "Alright, let's start with you then."

He flipped the page and began to read, occasionally recasting Candlelight whenever the floating ball of light dissipated.

Sauron had retreated to his "dorm" if one could call it that, books in hand and thoughts in his mind.

The Daedric Princes seemed to be powerful, if their status as worshipped deities was anything to go by. Having one or two on his side could possibly help speed things up in recovering the full force of his powers. Though based on a few descriptions of certain Princes, Sauron wasn't entirely sure about all of them.

Sanguine for one, didn't seem to fit into Sauron's category of "all-powerful deity" and seemed little more than a somewhat-omnipotent prankster at best.

Meridia was definitely out of the question. While her relic (a powerful blade called "Dawnbreaker") could be useful, she had an unending hatred for anything associating with the undead in any way. Given his status as a necromancer, getting her to fork over the sword would be nigh impossible in his current state.

Sheogorath… not much to be said. As the Prince of Madness, speaking with him could possibly be more of a deterrent to his plans than anything else.

Hircine was a debatable one. While gaining his favor (and possibly his blessing of Beast-Blood) could be useful, Sauron wasn't exactly sure of what would happen should he die again. Even if he had the Ring reforged, there was a slight chance that by holding the Beast-Blood that Hircine could still claim his soul from the Void and drag it down to the Hunting Grounds for all eternity. Until he was absolutely sure that wouldn't happen, Sauron made a mental note to himself to stay away from Hircine.

On the other hand, some of the Princes did sound more towards what his expectations of the Daedric Princes would be.

Molag Bal, the Prince of Domination and Sire of Vampires, was on the top of his list to speak with at some point. With the Prince's penchant for sadism and notable artifact in the form of a mace, Sauron wanted to commune with Molag Bal. (The added bonus of possibly achieving a higher form of vampirism straight from the source was also a possibility)

Mehrunes Dagon was by far one of the ones that Sauron wanted to speak with first. Violent, ruthless, and utterly unstoppable unless faced by the Dragon-God Akatosh himself, Dagon would be a powerful patron/ally to have. (Though Sauron had a nagging sensation in the back of his mind that Dagon seemed familiar somehow, and it annoyed him that he couldn't pinpoint why)

Vaermina was another possibility. Having the Prince of Nightmares on his side could greatly boost his already impressive skills with illusions. The power to enter and manipulate dreams was also very tempting.

Boethiah was the final Prince on Sauron's "must-meet" list. Being the Prince of Deceit and Lies, it made perfect sense for a manipulative being such as Sauron to meet with her.

The other princes weren't on his "must-meet" list, but he did briefly consider them. Azura was a possibility, though he didn't exactly care for her "kind" image portrayed in the texts. Mephala was an interesting one, and he idly wondered whether her title as "Webspinner" had an actual merit towards arachnids. Clavicus Vile seemed plausible, though Sauron knew that if he ever needed to make a deal with him then he needed to read for possible double-meanings or scenarios involving a double-cross. Nocturnal seemed to recluse and disinterested in the affairs of men and mer to be of any use, so Sauron remained neutral towards her. Namira was one Sauron was currently divided about. Gaining her favor could be useful for his future plans, but he wasn't exactly sure about eating dead bodies.

There was one other Prince though, one Sauron had only found the barest traces of information on in two separate books. One mentioned a "Prince of Order" and the other held the name "Jyggalag" in its pages. Nothing else could be found, save implications of relation to Sheogorath. Until he had more information, there was little Sauron could do in regard to that Daedra.

Though he did pull out a small piece of parchment and scribble a reminder to research this "Jyggalag" more thoroughly when he got the spare time.

Setting his books aside, Sauron sat down at his desk and began to think once more. Now that he had gotten into the College and was significantly stronger in terms of magical ability, his thoughts began to turn once more towards plans for the future.

While he had succeeded in lengthening the amount of time a corpse could be reanimated, as well as solved the annoying "collapsing into ash when the spell runs out" problem, he had yet to make the spell self-sustaining. He also had yet to truly resurrect someone with their soul and personality intact. A significant downgrade from his previous abilities, but with time Sauron was confident he would regain that level of power.

The same standards in terms of spell length also applied to his Flame Atronach, as well as his newly contracted Frost and Storm Atronachs. The spells weren't self-sustaining without a time limit, but the amount of time they could be summoned was much longer than it was when he first acquired the spells.

The aptly named "Atronach Forge" had been invaluable in creating those spell tomes, saving countless septims that would have went to buying the tomes from a merchant or the Conjuration Master of the College.

He had also examined the Forge and found (with experimentation) that it could be used to create weapons and armor of the "Daedric" variety. This would make the process simpler, requiring less material to forge it manually. But Sauron found himself dissatisfied at how simple it made the process, so he scrapped that plan and went back to simply studying how to forge it himself. Being a master blacksmith in his time in Middle Earth, he still got a strong feeling of satisfaction whenever he forged something himself, such as his previous set of armor. Using a quick method such as the Atronach Forge just lacked the feeling of satisfaction from forging it personally.

That and a few design changes might be necessary. After all, what was the point of having the best armor if it looked the same as every dremora that wore it?

Glancing over to one of the other chairs in the room, Sauron wasn't surprised to see his housecarl slumped over in her sleep. Whenever she wasn't following him around like her very existence depended on his presence, she was usually sleeping either on his bed or in one of his chairs. Lydia cared little for magic, preferring to keep to her usual sword-and-shield form of battle. Having her at his side was useful, given that he was masquerading as a pure mage with no weapons or armor, so she could charge in and take the hits while he attacked from a distance, intervening close-up only when she was close to falling.

The aptly named Bound Weapon spells were useful for whenever he needed to get up close while in this form, though the lack of variety annoyed him. Though given that they were simply constructs of magicka formed in the shape of a weapon (usually Daedric) it wasn't that hard to form a mace every once in awhile whenever Lydia passed out in battle.

Sauron stood from his chair and walked towards the exit of the building. Upon entering the courtyard, he noticed one of the other apprentices (the one Nord of the group) running towards the main building.

Raising an eyebrow, Sauron clicked his fingers and applied a quick Muffle spell.. Following up with another click of his fingers, Sauron vanished and followed the somewhat frantic apprentice to his destination.

The destination turned out to be the quarters of the Arch-Mage. Sauron followed, silent and invisible, before settling in a corner and listening.

"I was sent to find you sir," the apprentice (Onmund was his name?) said in between gasps for air. "Tolfdir said it was urgent."

Savos Aren sighed wearily. "Please don't tell me that another apprentice has been incinerated again? You'd think that with Tolfdir in charge that people wouldn't blunder into traps on these excavations, unless they do it simply to spite him."

"No one has died Arch-Mage," Onmund replied. "Though while we're on the subject of excavations, who authorized that excavation? It's very disrespectful to the Nords buried there for us to be-"

"Onmund," Savos said with a frown. "You were going to tell me something? Not rant about 'desecrating' a Nordic tomb?"

Onmund blinked. "Oh. Right. Anyways, we found something in Saarthal. Tolfdir thinks it's important somehow."

"Very well then," Savos said, closing his book and setting it aside. He stood and brushed off his robes before looking at Onmund. "I assume Tolfdir wouldn't be sending you if it wasn't important. I'll go to Saarthal and see what exactly it was that you found there. If you will accompany me."

"Yes sir," Onmund said before turning and leaving.

Savos Aren sighed before following the apprentice out the door. Sauron raised an eyebrow and began to tail them.

"Well, you certainly weren't kidding about this being possibly important," Savos said with uncharacteristic interest in his tone.

Sauron himself (still invisible and hidden out of sight) was a bit taken aback at what it was that was found. He hadn't seen anything like it before.

It was a metallic orb of sorts, with various intersecting lines carved all over it's surface. Blue runes of a language Sauron could not describe nor comprehend appeared and disappeared at random intervals, and light blue energy was rolling off of it and the platform it hovered over.

It also radiated magicka, though barely detectable even for Sauron's impressive senses. Just being near the object seemed to fill Sauron with a slight feeling of power, invincibility even.

"I can't even begin to understand what this might be," Tolfdir said, amazement evident in his voice. "If it's quite alright with you Arch-Mage, I would like to have this object moved to the College for further study."

"Very well," Savos replied. "Just make sure that it won't get anyone killed. We don't need any more dead apprentices, or worse, more havoc on Winterhold."

Sauron had enough of the conversation and slipped out of the chamber into an adjacent room. Focusing, he channeled magicka through his body. Seconds later his form dispersed into a swarm of Morgai Flies, which separated and flew off towards the College.

Ancano was sitting in the library with a book in hand, relaxing for once since his superiors had sent him off to this wretched institution for his assignment.

These backwater "mages" of Skyrim were quite behind compared to some of the marvels that the magic schools in Summerset Isle had come up with. Not only were they more advanced, but this "College" was so behind in recent discoveries that it almost gave Ancano a reason to pity them.

Really, these so-called magic experts still believed that the school of Destruction only used the elements of Fire, Frost, and Lightning for Auri-El's sake!

Ancano paused in his thoughts. Granted, there was one apprentice who actually seemed to be skilled in magic, unlike his peers. He shined in almost every form of magic, specifically Conjuration, Destruction, and Enchanting. Not only that but he was also quite knowledgeable in most circumstances, and had been the only apprentice to approach Ancano without a trace of disgust in his eyes (save for maybe that twit Nirya, but she was an Altmer so it made sense) and spoke civilly with him on more than one occasion.

He was also not as close-minded as the rest of Skyrim's populace, and seemed genuinely curious about both Altmer culture and any magical discoveries by them. Though now that Ancano thought about it, the slightly pointed tips of his ears might be an indication of some form of elven heritage in his blood. It would explain his skill with magic, as well as his desire to continue to learn more about it.

Not seconds after that thought was finished, Ancano noticed said apprentice coming over to him and sitting in the chair next to him.

"Ancano."

"Annatar," Ancano replied. "What brings you here?"

"We can't simply talk like normal?" Annatar said with a smile. "That being said, I just discovered something that I think the Thalmor might be interested in."

Ancano turned sharply, eyes wide. "Really? Go on."

Ancano didn't catch the brief flash of gold in Annatar's irises.

"Tolfdir has discovered something in the ruins of Saarthal nearby," Annatar explained. "Something that demanded Arch-Mage Aren's attention immediately. Given my natural curiosity, I followed them. And you won't believe what they found."

"What was it?"

"A sphere of some sort that simply radiates raw power," Annatar said with a sly grin. "I don't know what exactly it was, but just being near it was quite exhilarating."

"Where are you going with this Annatar?" Ancano asked.

"Well," Annatar said. "Savos Aren gave permission to move the object to the College for further study by the faculty and students." He turned to face Ancano. "I'm simply concerned that an object of that much power in the hands of the College may cause some… unpleasant results."

"You wish for me to take it into Thalmor custody or something of the sort?"

"Oh I'm not wishing or asking anything of you Ancano," Annatar said, dismissively waving a hand. "I simply figured I should bring this to your attention. After all, suppose this object does grant great power to those who could wield it. Imagine it in the hands of those rebelling against the Aldmeri Dominion's rule?"

Annatar stood from the chair. "Just figured you would want to know. After all, you are the voice of the Thalmor here."

With that, the white-haired apprentice turned began walking away. Ancano watched him leave before standing up himself.

"Annatar!"

Annatar stopped and turned back to face the Thalmor officer.

"It might be beneficial for you to meet with my superiors in light of these new occurrences. A first-hand account might be necessary."

Annatar smiled.

"But of course my friend," he replied. "You need only give me a time and place, and I'll be there."

Annatar turned on his heel and walked out of the Arcanaeum. Ancano sat back down and pulled out a pen and parchment. He had to inform his superiors of this new development.

Sauron returned to his dorm with a feeling of satisfaction. He had planted the seeds, now they only needed to grow.

Glancing back at his sleeping housecarl, he knelt down and gently shook her awake. Lydia stirred, shaking her head and blinking wearily.

"My Thane?"

Annatar gave a disarming smile. "We're heading back to Whiterun for a short visit Lydia," he told her. "I have a bit of business to take care of."

Lydia nodded and stood up to grab her sword and shield. Once she was geared up, she and Sauron set off to head back to the center of Skyrim once more. Though this time as she prepared to head off down the road, Sauron stopped her with a chuckle.

"Not this time Lydia," he remarked with amusement. "Perhaps this time we can take a carriage?"

Lydia turned pink as she murmured an apology. Sauron waved it off and handed some gold to the driver before climbing into the carriage. Lydia climbed up with him as the cart began to move.

"It might be a good idea to rest a bit longer," Sauron told her. "It will be quite some time before we arrive in Whiterun."

The housecarl nodded at her Thane's words, and promptly fell asleep despite the rattling and groaning of the wooden cart. The former Dark Lord of Mordor simply shook his head at the sight. Reaching into his bag, he pulled out a spell tome he had recently… acquired from the Conjuration Master of the College.

Chuckling under his breath, he cracked the book open and began to read. After all, a Dremora Lord was nothing to scoff at.

Annatar shook Lydia awake once they arrived at the stables outside of Whiterun.

"We're here."

The robed mage stepped down from the carriage, tossing a couple extra septims to the driver for getting them there as quickly as he did. Lydia grabbed her sword and shield and followed her Thane.

"What business do you have here my Thane?"

"Minor things really, just a bit of buying and selling, restocking on alchemy ingredients, that sort of thing," Annatar replied. He paused for a moment. "Though there is one thing you can do for me Lydia."

Lydia perked up. "Name it my Thane."

"I wish for you to remain in Whiterun for the time being."

Lydia's eyes widened as she bit back the feeling of horror and the sorrow that came with it. Then the panic set in. Had she disappointed him in some way? Were her skills not up to his standards and thus he was replacing her?

"W-why is that?"

"Calm down Lydia," Annatar said, raising his hands to placate the woman. "I'm not replacing you. I simply believe that at the moment your talents would be better suited to protecting Whiterun and it's citizens should the Stormcloaks or another dragon attack, rather than sitting bored in a tower following a wizard as he learns magic."

Lydia almost sighed in relief. He wasn't discarding her like she had feared (a rather irrational fear now that she thought about it) but was looking out for the best interests of the people over his own needs.

It was for that reason that she respected him as much as she did, despite her personal feelings towards using magic.

"As you will then my Thane," she said with a salute.

Annatar smiled kindly. "Good girl." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a sealed envelope. "Give that to Jarl Balgruuf when you see him. Tell him I send my regards, and that the letter holds your current assignment from me. Understood?"

Lydia nodded. Annatar's smile got wider as he slapped her on the back, before muttering a curse while shaking his hand. She was still wearing full steel armor after all.

The housecarl bid her Thane farewell as she set off into the city, towards Dragonsreach. Annatar watched her leave. Once she was out of sight the smile lessened somewhat, becoming more of a smirk than a smile.

Annatar walked over towards the General Goods store run by a sleazy Breton by the name of Belethor. If he wasn't currently in the form of the benevolent Annatar, Sauron probably would have killed him long ago. But he had gold, and tended to buy just about anything with a "no questions asked" policy, so Annatar let him be. The fact that while he was deplorable, Belethor was a ruthless businessman, and he would jump at any chance to make a deal to gain some profit, be it at that moment or in the future. Thus he was a good source of income for Annatar, as Belethor tended to buy most of his "rejects" from his experiments with Enchanting and ring forging.

"Well well well! If it isn't Annatar!" Belethor said jovially, licking his lips greedily as the mage walked into the shop. "I trust you brought the usual wares?"

"Indeed I did Belethor," Annatar replied with a voice like honeyed venom. "I trust you can put these to good use somewhere?"

Belethor chuckled. "Show me what you got first, then we'll talk."

Annatar chuckled. Reaching into his bag, he pulled out a small sack. Spilling the contents on the counter, (said contents being a dozen enchanted rings of varying value) he glanced back at Belethor. The Breton licked his lips again as he picked up one of the rings (a gold one with a garnet imbedded in it) and inspected it closely.

"Gold," he murmured. "Flawless garnet as well. With an enchantment of..."

"That one is enchanted with granting the wearer resistance to all forms of magic," Annatar replied. "It's of a weaker degree than some of the others I brought, but the enchantment itself is rather rare and thus equals a bit more in value don't you think?"

"Yes," Belethor mused. "Magic Resistance is indeed a rare one." Setting the ring aside, he picked up another. "Silver with amethyst, with a fortification of Destruction magic I believe?"

Annatar smirked. "Correct. Though it is a much stronger variant of enchantment, so I hope it's worth it. Cost me a Greater Soul Gem just to make it."

"Well at least you didn't use a Grand Soul Gem, otherwise I wouldn't be seeing it if you did!" Belethor said with a laugh.

Annatar chuckled with him, his eyes flashing a reddish-orange for a split second. Belethor looked over each ring, making notes on a scrap of parchment involving materials, enchantment, and enchantment magnitude, occasionally asking for clarification from his somewhat reluctant benefactor. Belethor tallied up the prices and looked back at Annatar.

"You're looking at a sum of around 4000 septims there Annatar," he said with a smile.

Annatar's smirk became a little bit more forced. Coughing in his hand, his irises burned gold.

"Oh please, don't be a miser Belethor," he said cheerfully. "I'm sure that this lot could be worth… say 5500 septims? You do know my stance on quality after all?"

Belethor stared at Annatar, thinking for a moment, oblivious to the fact that his own eyes flashed the same shade of gold as Annatar's for an instant.

"Hmm, seems a bit high…" he mused. "But what the hell, you've always been a reliable one!"

Belethor counted out the newly agreed sum into a purse and handed it to Annatar. Annatar's eyes reverted to their usual silver sheen as he smiled back at Belethor.

"Pleasure doing business with you my friend," he replied. "I hope you receive a good profit with those rings."

Annatar pocketed his newly acquired funds and left the shop. Heading back towards the gates, he stopped by the blacksmith's shop and haggled for a bit over some iron ore. After managing to get a dozen pieces of the metal, Annatar slipped them into his pack and walked back towards center of the city.

Annatar smirked as he thought about how much money the store owner had actually lost in haggling with him in terms of future profit. After all, he was proficient enough in the school of Alteration to Transmute the ore into metal of a far more valuable nature to use for his experiments.

As he was walking out of the shop of the resident alchemist (a cheerful woman by the name of Arcadia he believed) Annatar was shoved to the side by a large Nord wearing ornate armor emblazoned with a wolf, with a large greatsword on his back. A few feet away, another Nord with a similar face to the first (though he was slightly bulkier and wore plain steel armor) sighed wearily, shaking his head.

Annatar dusted himself off, (idly checking his bag to be sure that none of his newly acquired potions had shattered, given how expensive they were) before glaring at the Nord. The Nord simply grinned, his silver eyes glinting through the black warpaint splattered around them.

"Oops. Didn't see you there."

"Figures," Annatar muttered. "Another Nord looking down upon us 'lowly' magic-users."

The Nord's face shifted a little, looking a little more annoyed. "Not our fault you're too weak to swing a sword and have to resort to using your little spells from a distance like a coward."

The other Nord put a hand on the first. "Take it easy Vilkas. We're not looking for any trouble."

"So says you Farkas," the one called Vilkas retorted. "But I didn't see him apologize for getting in my way."

Farkas sighed. "Brother, I hate to say it, but you're the one who bumped into him. Not the other way around."

"So?"

Annatar smirked. "Maybe that's why I don't use weapons," he mused. "All that brainpower gets directed at your arms and not through your mind like it should."

Vilkas stiffened, his silver eyes flashing amber for a moment. Farkas noticed this and grabbed his brother.

"Vilkas…" he warned.

Vilkas shook off his brother and stalked over to the mage. Annatar noted the flickering of amber in his silver eyes with amusement.

"A lycanthrope," he thought to himself. "Given that those changing eyes have been seen with other members of those 'Companions,' then that must mean that most, if not all, of them have the gift."

"I don't have to take that kind of talk from a milk-drinker like you," Vilkas snarled.

Annatar smirked.

"Well well," he mused. "An angry dog in tongue as well as in mind."

The amber vanished from Vilkas' eyes, leaving only a shade of yellow that matched that of the full moon perfectly. With a roar, the werewolf lashed out with a fist and crashed it across Annatar's face, sending the robed mage sprawling. The people nearby stopped all interactions to stare at the member of the Circle in shock. Nazeem, who happened to be perusing the vegetable stand at the time, froze in horror.

As the townsfolk began to converge around the location of the fight, Nazeem slipped away and headed for Dragonsreach.

"Vilkas!" Farkas yelled.

Vilkas ignored his twin in favor of raising his fists and advancing on the fallen mage. Annatar staggered to his feet, setting his jaw back into place. Powerful mage he may be, but an armored punch was still an armored punch. Wiping his mouth, Annatar cast a swift Fast Healing with a flash of golden light before forming a translucent green prism in each hand.

"Very well then," he said. "It seems that talk won't sway you, so I'll have to resort to more barbaric methods."

Clenching his fists in front of his chest, the two prisms merged and expanded. Unclenching his fists, the prism shattered and reformed over his body in the form of magical armor. Inhaling for a moment, Annatar swapped out the ring on his hand for plain gold band with a nigh impossible enchantment to find bound to it.

"Good thing I had that ring for fortifying Alteration on me at the time," he mused to himself. "Ebonyflesh still takes a bit out of me. Note to self: train further in Alteration when I return to the College."

Annatar held his fists up in front of his face, his expression set in determination and his eyes flashing orange for a second.

Vilkas roared and lunged forward, fist cocked back. Annatar slipped out of the range of the strike and followed up with one of his own. Vilkas, believing the mage to be physically weak, let the hit connect.

Much to the shock of the crowd, Annatar's punch hit home and sent Vilkas skidding back. Vilkas shook his head and growled.

"What the hell was that?"

Annatar smirked, flexing his fingers on that fist. A glint of gold on his index finger caught Vilkas' eye, and he noticed the telltale gleam of an enchantment on it.

"Like it?" Annatar said calmly. "This enchantment took forever to locate, as it only existed in this country on the gloves of some vagrant down in the Ratways of Riften." Raising his hand, Annatar showed the plain band of gold with a faint red sheen glowing over it. "With this little piece of jewelry, any unarmed strikes of mine that connect are much stronger as you can see."

It took a moment for Vilkas to comprehend what he had heard. The only thing that ran through his mind was that the mage was using an enchanted item to hit as hard as he did. In his mind, that meant that the mage was cheating.

Snarling like the beast within his soul, Vilkas charged again. Annatar struck once more, only this time Farkas had the common sense to dodge. Cheating with magic or not, that punch had hurt. The werewolf buried his fist into Annatar's stomach and sent him flying. Annatar hit a post and staggered to his feet, inhaling deeply to get his wind back.

While the dual-cast Ebonyflesh had softened the blow considerably, Annatar still felt a good amount of power from the strike. Shaking his head, Annatar cursed himself for not applying the unarmed fortification enchantment to a silver ring.

Shaking his head from side to side, Annatar refocused to find Vilkas barreling towards him. Now Annatar was by no means a coward, and he was by no means a humble man. But if your only defense is a gradually weakening Alterations spell, you're wearing only robes, and a two-hundred plus man in a form of steel armor is charging at you, even Annatar knew when to get out of his way.

Ducking, Annatar rolled out of Vilkas' path. Vilkas, running on pure rage and adrenaline at this point, didn't realize that his target had disappeared and thus he crashed into the wall of Belethor's shop, nearly giving the Breton a heart attack when the warrior burst through his wall.

At this point, Vilkas was getting so enraged that he was very tempted to forgo simply using his fists. Stepping through the hole in the wall, he gave into that temptation and reached to his back and unsheathed the gigantic greatsword.

Annatar would deny it for the rest of his life, but he may have backed up slightly at the sight of that blade.

"Vilkas, calm down!" Farkas yelled, running forward and grabbing his brother's arms and trying to wrestle him away.

Vilkas was hearing none of it, and promptly slammed the pommel of the greatsword against his twin's forehead. Farkas crumpled to the ground, grasping his forehead and groaning in pain. His brother out of his way, Vilkas lunged forward swinging his sword like a beserker.

Annatar quickly dual-cast Ebonyflesh once more. He popped his neck and got into his stance once more.

As the blade came swinging down towards Annatar, the white-haired mage ducked out of the way. The sword crashed into cobblestones, stabbing point-first into the ground. Vilkas bellowed angrily as Annatar darted towards him and got a few quick jabs to the face in.

Vilkas grabbed the impaled blade in a reverse grip, and as a testament to his strength, slashed upward with a single hand, carving a trench in the ground as he did. Annatar bent back in an almost entirely horizontal fashion. The gleaming steel blade flew right past his chin, barely clearing it by a half of an inch. Annatar skidded back, rubbing his chin thoughtfully with a smirk. Looking back up, he was just in time to receive a right hook straight to the chin. Stumbling, he swore under his breath in the Black Speech, rubbing his jaw.

At that point, a large squadron of Whiterun guards, all clad in the yellow-dyed leather armor and enclosed helmets, spilled out from the upper district with swords in hand and arrows pulled back. Standing behind them, huffing slightly with sweat running down his face, was Nazeem with a somewhat relieved look on his face.

A single guard that wasn't wearing a helmet walked through the crowd, his face set angrily.

"Just what the hell is going on over here?!" he bellowed.

Vilkas, who was at that time about to take another swing at Annatar, froze and groaned.

"Commander Caius," he murmured.

"You know, I expected this kind of thing from possibly Njada or Athis," Caius said with a frown. "But you I would never have expected to hear of attacking someone in the streets. So I'll ask again: what the hell is going on here?!"

Annatar, seeing an opening, slipped over to the side and began casting Healing Hands on Farkas. The Nord werewolf stirred with a groan, rubbing his head and trying to stand.

"Stay down," Annatar said sternly. "If you keep moving, you'll aggravate that head wound, and thus give yourself and even worse concussion than you already have. Stay still, and let me finish healing you."

Groaning slightly, Farkas managed a nod and kept still, letting the soothing tendrils of golden energy flow through his body. Meanwhile, Caius was still tearing Vilkas a new one.

"I don't want to hear any excuses!" he retorted. "I don't care if you're part of the Circle of the Companions, nobody gets away with anything in Whiterun if I'm running the guard!"

"Oh yeah? Well what about him?" Vilkas growled, gesturing at Annatar. "He kept fighting!"

"He was practicing self-defense!" Caius yelled. "You provoked him, fought him, and even attacked your own brother, who might I add is currently being healed by the man you started fighting!" Caius groaned and rubbed his temples. "Normally you'd have to spend a night in the pit and be done with it, but since you attacked the Jarl's Thane-"

"Thane?!" Vilkas said, silver eyes widened in shock.

Caius glared at the Companion. "Yes, Thane. Given his status, that means more time for you to serve, and more paperwork for me. You can either come quietly, or you can go ahead and resist and we'll add more time to your sentence. Your choice."

Vilkas decided it was in his best interests to come quietly. Not only would he get a somewhat lessened sentence than that added for resisting arrest, but he'd also have some time to spare before Kodlak found out about this incident. The man may be old, but his skills had not waned in the slightest. If anything, age had made him even stronger. And his punishments were known for being harsh to the point that everyone believed (or rather, those in the Circle who knew of the lycanthropy) that the Beast Blood had made Kodlak a closet sadist.

After the guards took Vilkas away, confiscating his greatsword in the process, Annatar helped Vilkas to his feet.

"Thank you," Farkas said, still gingerly rubbing his head. "Look, for what it's worth, I'm sorry about Vilkas."

Annatar waved his hand. "Don't be. One can't easily change the minds of people, even with magic. Let him have his opinions." He smirked. "Besides, this did at least remind me to train some more in Alteration."

Farkas mentally sighed in relief. It wouldn't do to have the Thane of Whiterun on his bad side after all. And Annatar was an okay person… for an elven mage that is.

The two parted ways after that, Farkas heading back to Jorrvaskr (after all, Kodlak needed to be informed of this, so he could plan out Vilkas' punishment when he returned) and Annatar dusted himself off.

"Well, good thing I got here when I did then."

Annatar turned to see the elegantly-dressed Redguard standing beside him, still slightly winded but looking better than he did when he returned with the guards.

"Indeed my friend," Annatar replied. "I can't thank you enough. I was this close to incinerating that poor fool," he said, gesturing with his fingers.

Nazeem chuckled, shaking his head. "Don't let that magical power go to your head Annatar. Wouldn't want you to get into a fight you can't win due to overconfidence, now would we?"

"Perish the thought Nazeem. I'm the picture of a humble mage after all."

"Whatever you say Annatar. Whatever you say."

Nazeem clapped a hand on the mage's shoulders. "Come. Let's go to my house," he said. "I'll get you something to eat, and you can stay the night. Unless you would prefer to stay at the Bannered Mare?"

Annatar put a hand on his chin. "Hmm, stay in the rather nice house of a friend with substantial influence and riches, or pay to stay in a filthy inn for the night? Decisions, decisions."

Nazeem chuckled, shaking his head once more. Annatar smirked at his friend before following him back up to the upper districts of the city.

Though as they walked, they neglected to notice the woman standing in the shadows observing them. She had long straw-colored hair pulled up into braids on one side, and the usual ice-blue eyes and scowl typical of a Nord. A stripe of bright red crossed over her eyes, adding to her already menacing expression. She was clad in full Steel Plate armor and had multiple weapons littering her person, from a battleaxe on her back (with a shield underneath it) to the twin swords sheathed at her sides.

"Annatar," she mused.

In her opinion, it was annoying that Vilkas had attacked him first, thus allowing the mage to weasel out of any jail time. Even more so was that he attacked the Thane of the city right out in the open, where anyone could see him. And judging by how he was acting all "buddy-buddy" with that boot-licker Nazeem, this "Annatar" had friends in high places.

If she had her way, she would have simply ignored him like she did most other mages (save her brother, for in his line of work a few spells from the Illusion school were handy every now and again) and went on with her life. But he had brought dishonor to her Shield-Siblings, the closest thing she had to family besides her brother since he went galavanting off through Falkreath and Riften.

There was also talk amongst the guards that he was Dragonborn, and this was also what piqued her interest as well as her ire.

The Nord woman snorted irritably at the thought, brief trails of smoke emanating from her nostrils as her icy eyes shifted to brilliant sapphire blue with a reptilian pupil. She needed to get word to her brother. He needed to be informed of this development, and knowing him he wouldn't be too pleased either. Then, she had some unfinished business to take care of.

Elenwen was looking over the various papers that needed signing, muttering curses under her breath.

Despite having worked hard and having gotten into one of the top positions in the Thalmor, here she was working away signing and stamping papers like a common secretary. And it annoyed her. Not only was it menial, but it was mind-numbingly boring.

Signing arrest and search warrants, stamping contracts with her approval, reading over reports sent in by various Justiciars across Skyrim, (usually requesting more warrants) the work was never-ending.

Sighing wearily, Elenwen set aside another signed warrant and rubbed her temple with a gloved hand. At this point, she was looking for something, anything, to break the monotony.

Her wish was seemingly granted when a falcon flew in through the window, a rolled up letter tied to its foot. Elenwen's arm shot out and caught the bird, at which point she untied the scroll and unrolled it. Golden eyes scanning the written words, her scowl quickly morphed into an excited grin.

Grabbing a quill and an inkpot, she penned a response to Ancano. She tied the letter to the falcon's foot and led to the window. The bird gave a shrill cry before leaping out into the night and soaring off into the distance. Elenwen watched it fly away with a small smile on her face.

"Annatar," she mused to herself. "You just might be a rather interesting ally to have on our side."

Sauron was walking down the road the next day, having finished his business in Whiterun and was carrying on his way.

In his hand was a leather journal he had bought from Belethor on a whim, and he was currently scribbling down ideas or other notes in the book with a stub of charcoal. A good portion of it was simply various ideas or thoughts running through his head at the time or it this case it happened to be possible materials for use in reforging his Ring, as well as possible locations that he could use in order to do so.

Unfortunately for Sauron, the Golden Claw he had kept from his trip to Bleak Falls Barrow ended up not having any innate magical properties like he had originally hoped. It was in actuality just a carved chunk of gold with no purpose other than unlocking that one door.

Given he had no use for it, Sauron had made a quick pit stop to Riverwood and returned the Claw to Valerius at the Riverwood Trader (spinning a tale of having found it a bandit's chest in some camp somewhere) The store owner had been so overjoyed to see his beloved ornament again, he proceeded to pay Sauron with several hundred septims from his last shipment. So in the end, Sauron still made some profit from it.

Sauron's thoughts were cut short when a trio of wolves decided to race down the road at him. Groaning under his breath, Sauron prepared a Fireball in his free hand before stopping. Flipping back a few pages, he smirked and formed an ethereal orange sphere in his hand in place of the Fireball. The sphere of light quickly spread out over Sauron's hand until it coated his palm in a layer of orange light.

Sidestepping a lunging wolf, Sauron grabbed it by the face with his glowing hand, receiving a yelp from the canine. Sauron's face darkened as his eyes burned the color of fire.

"You are MINE."

Sauron released the wolf, leaving a glowing handprint on the side of the wolf's snout while its eyes glowed orange. The marked wolf quickly jumped at one of the remaining two members of the pack and wrestled it to the ground. Sauron shot forward and gripped the downed wolf by the forehead, his palm glowing before he let go, the handprint and glowing orange eyes now apparent. Turning to the last wolf, he repeated the process.

Eyeing his newly acquired pack of wolves, Sauron nodded in approval. So far the technique was effective against animals. But what about more sentient beings, such as men, mer, and the "beast" races? What would happen if he used this technique on an undead being, like a vampire or a draugr?

Discarding those thoughts, Sauron jotted down his observations in his book, writing them under the term "Brand" before continuing on his way with his trio of wolves trailing behind him.

As he walked, Sauron occasionally glanced back at the wolves to see if his Brand was holding up. So far it hadn't worn off yet, and the wolves kept following him without a care in the world. It was a bit of an odd sight, and a random farmer leading a cow to a giant camp was in for quite the shock when he saw a mage striding confidently past him with a pack of wolves.

The farmer proceeded to walk a bit faster when the wolves stopped and eyed the cow with saliva dripping from their teeth. He even ended up losing a bit of his shirt when one of them jumped and nipped at him.

Sauron chuckled before continuing on his way. That is, until he spotted the jester next to a cart.

"Stupid wheel! Why oh why would this damndest wagon wheel decide to break now?! We're not even halfway there!"

Sauron was prone to seeing odd sights, but this was one that even he had to take a second look at from the sheer absurdity of it.

Angrily kicking the cart was a lean redheaded woman in a jester suit of sorts, with a spade and a diamond tattooed under her eyes. Strapped to her belt was an ebony dagger, which instantly clued Sauron in to the fact that she was dangerous, especially if she had a dagger of that quality. Inside the cart was a large wooden box, of which the contents were as of yet unknown to Sauron.

Sauron would look back at this event much later in his life, still wondering why in the name of the Valar that he had stopped.

"Excuse me, but are you in need of assistance?"

The jester shrieked in shock, leaping several feet in the air before landing somewhat shakily on her feet. Glaring at Sauron she immediately retorted.

"What was that for?!" she yelled angrily, fingering her dagger. "Who does that?!"

Sauron raised his hands in surrender (unknown to him, his wolves backed up nervously from the girl) "I mean you no harm," he said calmly. "I was just seeing if you needed any help."

The girl's murderous expression switched to a delighted smile in the blink of an eye.

"Oh yes! Yes yes yes yes!" she said happily. "Oh sweet Circe was just hoping for that!"

Sauron blinked in confusion, before deciding to just keep up the appearances. She may not be mentally sound, but she was dangerous. He could tell that much.

"Slow down, and tell me what happened."

"Well, you see I was just transporting my dear sweet mother after our home was destroyed," "Circe" replied. "Okay, not exactly her you see. Her corpse. She's quite dead after all."

Sauron raised an eyebrow and glanced at the wooden box. Given the shape of it, it did resemble a coffin.

"So I was taking her to our new home, but that wagon wheel! That gods-damned wagon wheel! It decided to break right now when we needed it the most!"

"I see. So what do you want me to do about it?" Sauron asked.

"Well, you could go up to the farm nearby and ask the man up there to fix it for Circe! Except he refused earlier when Circe asked nicely," she mused. "Or if you know how, you could fix it! Circe will pay you if necessary!"

Sauron glanced over at the wagon. He walked over and took a closer look at the broken wheel.

"Your axle snapped," he remarked. "It's rather worn down, so it's a miracle that you managed to even make it this far."

Holding out his palm, Sauron sent a tendril of earth-colored energy into the cart. With a few creaks and ominous snapping sounds, the axle halves joined and fused together. Giving the beam a tug, Sauron stood up and smiled.

"There. That should hold up until you get to your new home in the very least."

Circe squealed happily and grabbed Sauron in a bone-crushing bear hug, much to his shock.

"Yes! Thank you, thank you, thank you! Oh what a nice and kind wizard you are!"

She let go of Sauron, smiling widely as she pulled out a pouch of gold.

"As promised!" She chirped, tossing the pouch to one of Sauron's wolves, said wolf proceeding to drop the pouch in Sauron's hand. "Circe hopes to see you again sometime Mr. Wizard!"

Sauron merely smiled and went on his way with his pack of wolves, shaking his head slightly. The jester girl may have been an odd one, but something about her intrigued him. No normal jester reacts so quickly or violently to surprise, nor do they carry ebony daggers. There was much more to "Circe" than met the eye. Sauron resolved to not forget the jester girl. She could be useful somehow.

As he continued down the road, Sauron suddenly was aware of the faint sound of screaming ahead. Idly forming a Fireball in his left hand, Sauron gestured with his free hand. The enthralled wolves padded ahead, sniffing the air before spreading out and heading in the general direction of the sound. Sauron's fingers twitched over the fireball as he followed the wolves.

What they found at the origin of the sound was an overturned cart attached to a brutalized horse, blood still leaking from the three slashes on its side. The two imperial legionaries who had apparently been driving the cart were a few feet away, one missing his left limbs while the other was slashed and clawed like the dead horse. Sauron observed the corpses before turning his head to the rustling near the back of the cart.

Ripping through various sacks containing dried meat and vegetables, was a large brown troll, it's three eyes narrowed in concentration as it sniffed the air and tore a chunk of meat off of the bone in it's hand.

Sauron eyed the beast, mentally comparing it to the trolls from back in Middle Earth. This one was smaller, darker in hue, and had the obvious differences of three eyes and small spikes protruding from it's shoulders. It also seemed more like an animal, preferring to eat it's kills raw instead of cooking them, and apparently lacking the ability to speak. However, this troll did not appear to be as obese as some of the trolls Sauron had seen were, being more muscular if anything, as well as the fact that it was not turning to stone in the sunlight.

Glancing back at his wolves, Sauron made a brief gesture with his hand. The wolves separated and approached the troll from the back. The troll at that point sniffed the air, before turning and roaring at the trio of wolves.

Eyes still glowing orange, the wolves snarled and lunged at the troll. The much larger beast roared and backhanded one of the wolves, sending it flying into a tree with a loud CRACK. The wolf slumped to the ground, the orange glow fading from it's eyes as it died right where it lay. The remaining wolves ignored the death of their pack-mate, leaping onto the troll's back and latching on with their teeth. Roaring in rage, the troll shook the wolves off and raised its arms in the air to smash them into the ground.

Sauron clenched his fist as the orb of fire glowed brighter and increased in size. He then extended his palm forward, sending the Fireball directly into the troll's face. The troll screamed angrily, staggering around and flailing its arms in an attempt to extinguish the flames. Sauron smirked as he made his move, darting around to the back of the troll and climbing onto its back. His eyes glowing orange, Sauron grabbed the troll by the sides of its head and applied the Brand.

Once the troll's eyes glowed orange Sauron released his grip, leaving two glowing orange handprints on the sides of its face. Dusting himself off, Sauron pulled out his notebook and stub of charcoal and scribbled in a few notes. After closing the book and replacing it in his bag, Sauron walked over towards the dead wolf and jabbed two fingers in its direction. Coils of blue energy erupted from the wolf's body, levitating it in the air until it stood on its feet with a faint black vapor wafting from its body.

Satisfied with the reanimation, Sauron briefly knelt down to check the bodies of the legionaries. Upon finding nothing really useful, he stood back up and started walking down the road with his enthralled wolves and troll (plus one wolf zombie).

As he continued down the road, Sauron reached into his bag and extracted the folded map from one of the tomes he had packed away. Unfolding the map, Sauron looked over it with a frown as he tried to find his current location. Finding the general area he assumed that he was in, Sauron looked over the map to find a destination to travel towards. Deciding to head to Windhelm, Sauron folded the map back up and stowed it in his bag before casting a small spell to determine which direction he was currently heading. Upon noting that he was currently facing north, Sauron turned to his right and began making his way eastward to Windhelm, his pack of living and dead wolves padding along and his troll following behind him.

Sauron looked over the city of Windhelm from his current vantage point beside a statue of Talos. He observed the large stone wall surrounding the city, as well as the rather large palace up near the top of the city.

Apparently the palace was called the "Palace of Kings" by Ulfric Stormcloak and his faction of Nordic rebels. Sauron couldn't help but roll his eyes at the name. Ulfric Stormcloak was no king, and even if his rebellion succeeded, there was very little chance that he would actually be accepted as High King of Skyrim by the percentage of the population who weren't Nords. Therefore the name could come off as quite arrogant to non-Nords and those who sympathized with the Empire.

Sauron shook his head and turned away from the view, striding back down the set of snow-covered steps that had lead him to that point. His duo of wolves (the resurrected wolf having died once more along the way, with Sauron seeing little reason to resurrect it once more) and troll stood watch dutifully at the bottom of the steps, lifting themselves up from their resting positions to follow him once more. Sauron looked towards the city gates off in the distance, thinking thoughtfully to himself as he went.

There wasn't really much of a reason why he chose to go to Windhelm. Perhaps it was because it was on the road to Winterhold and he decided he wanted to see what the former capital of Skyrim once was like. Perhaps it was the fact that the Stormcloaks resided here, and having some sort of spy planted there could be useful. Or perhaps he could adopt another of his many personas to personally "join" the Stormcloaks and sabotage them from within.

"Then again," Sauron thought to himself. "There was that rumor of a boy trying to contact the assassin's guild, the Dark Brotherhood, somewhere in this city. Perhaps I could pay him a visit, maybe learn more about these assassins. Especially since they were already paid to kill me once, who knows if it will happen again."

Sauron stopped walking as one of his wolves froze and looked out in the distance, growling with glowing eyes narrowed. The former Dark Lord frowned, then turned to see what the animal was growling at.

Walking towards him with a large steel battleaxe clutched in one hand (a feat that instantly piqued Sauron's interest, for obvious reasons) was a Nord woman with straw-blonde hair partially braided on one side and cold blue eyes. She was clad in full Steel Plate armor (minus the helm) with a steel sword attached to each hip, and a shield strapped to her left arm. A streak of red warpaint crossed over her eyes like a mask, and her face was set in grim determination.

Sauron looked over her for a moment as she continued striding towards him. Holding out a hand, the wolf calmed itself and became docile once more. Looking back towards her, Sauron walked forward to meet her halfway. The pair stopped when they were both facing the other, Sauron's pack still hovering behind him.

"You're a slippery bastard of an elf, you know that?" the woman remarked.

Sauron raised an eyebrow. "I do not believe we have properly met," he replied. "But I am at least certain you are not another of those simpletons from that other guild."

The woman's eyes narrowed, her grip on her battleaxe tightening.

"Depends. Which guild are you referring to?"

"The ones who claim to be assassins, yet abandon all form of stealth in favor of charging straight in with daggers in hand, hoping to catch someone in the neck." Sauron paused to look her over. "Although, you do not appear to be one of them. You're not wearing that garish red and black leather."

"Unlike the Dark Brotherhood, I try to fight with honor instead of stabbing someone in the back," she retorted. "Though to have had the Dark Brotherhood send someone after your head, you must have pissed off someone high up in the food chain for that to happen."

Sauron shrugged. "Well, given I am both a mage and an elf, I'm certain I've 'pissed off someone' just about everywhere I go where there are Nords, just by existing."

"Either that or you're doing something that someone doesn't like that much, maybe even illegal."

"That doesn't explain why you are here," Sauron replied. "Unless the Companions are now little more than common thugs like that brute who attacked me in Whiterun?"

"You were the one who baited him into it Annatar," she snarled, her eyes morphing into sapphire blue with a reptilian pupil for a moment. "And as a member of the Companions, what better way to avenge the honor of my shield-brother than to succeed where he did not?"

Sauron chuckled merrily, his eyes becoming like flames while his pupils morphed into slits before reverting back to their usual shade of silver.

"Another fine example of Nordic hard-headedness as usual. Very well, if we must do battle as you wish to do so, then would you adhere to some form of decorum and grant me the knowledge of your name?"

The woman tilted her head, popping one of the joints in her neck as she readied her battleaxe.

"Agni Wild-Blood you pointy-eared bastard," she growled.

Sauron smirked. "A pleasure, Agni Wild-Blood."

With that he simply raised a hand and pointed towards her. The two wolves and troll snarled and howled respectively in rage before running towards her. Agni simply pulled her shield from her back and readied it while raising her battleaxe in her other hand.

Raising an eyebrow, Sauron idly formed a Fireball in one hand while clenching his other hand into a fist. The orange glow in the eyes of the wolves and troll gleamed a little brighter as the canines continued running at the armored Nord. Her eyes narrowed as she spun her battleaxe and raised her shield to bash the lunging wolf on the snout before planting the blade in its skull. Agni ripped the axe free and rolled to the side to avoid the Fireball that was sent screaming past her ear. As she stood from from the roll, the second wolf leapt at her from behind and latched onto her shoulder.

With a bellow of rage, the Nord tossed the wolf off of her body, throwing it back at Sauron. The robed mage casually sidestepped the flying wolf and stared at her. Agni raised an eyebrow before getting backhanded by the troll.

She skidded a few feet before planting her axe in the ground and slowing her movement. Standing up, she shook her head and glanced at the incoming troll. Ducking under its wildly flailing fist, she hacked at it with her battleaxe, managing to lodge it in the beast's chest. The troll roared angrily before slamming its fists into the ground. Agni stumbled briefly before ducking and rolling out of the way, leaving the weapon behind. She grit her teeth and swore under her breath as the troll charged at her, uncaring of the battleaxe still embedded in its chest.

"To think that Grimvar was actually right, the son of a bitch," she muttered irritably.

Adopting an expression of deep concentration, Agni raised her free hand and let loose a short gout of flames into the troll's face.

It wasn't much, but it was enough to set its fur ablaze and cause the creature to panic, frantically swatting at its face and trying to douse the flames. Capitalizing on this, Agni rolled forward and grabbed hold of the imbedded axe with both hands, gripped tightly, and pulled as hard as she could to the side.

The end result was the troll collapsing to its knees as the orange glow died from its eyes and falling over nearly bisected at the waist. Sauron eyed the dead troll and looked at Agni with a smirk on his face.

"Now this is something I find a bit odd," Sauron remarked. "Why would a proud Nord warrior and member of the famous Companions resort to supposedly 'cheap' tactics of using magic, dare I say it, like a cowardly elf?"

Agni glared at the mage, slowly wiping a trickle of blood from her mouth from where the troll backhanded her.

"I don't use magic normally, but unfortunately you forced my hand."

"Indeed, yet there were so many other ways you could have killed my little pet," Sauron replied as the single remaining wolf padded over to him. "You could have stabbed its eyes out with one of those other weapons on your person. You could have waited until I launched a fire-based spell of my own and rolled out of the way, leaving the troll to take the blow for you. So many ways, yet you resorted to a supposedly weak art. Why is that?"

Agni said nothing, her cold blue eyes morphing into brilliant sapphire with a reptilian slit for pupils. Sauron smirked in response, idly stroking the top of the enthralled wolf's head as he watched her unsheath one of her swords while picking up the battleaxe in the other hand, her shield now strapped across her back once more.

"I'm going to enjoy killing you far more than I should."

"I'd be disappointed if you didn't."

Screaming angrily, Agni charged at Sauron with weapons raised. Sauron formed a prism of energy and shattered it, reforming into an Ebonyflesh seconds later. Right as her weapons lashed downwards to rend his body, Sauron jerked his left hand to the right and formed a Ward. The defensive spell had the intended effect of deflecting the attack, at the cost of shattering afterwards. Bending backwards at the knees to avoid a sideways slash from the battleaxe, Sauron gestured with a single finger at the corpse of the troll.

Tendrils of blue energy lanced out from the corpse, coiling in and out of the body as the troll stood back up with ominous cracking of bones.

Agni heard the sound and was forced to dodge after the first blow from the reanimated creature dented the shield on her back. She rolled to the side and stood, swearing once more. Leaning on her battleaxe, Agni stood up and glared at the still smirking Sauron.

"Of course you'd be a damn necromancer."

"One of my talents," Sauron admitted. "Though not my only one."

"Gods-damned mages," Agni growled. "They can never leave well enough alone with the forces of nature!"

"To be fair, in a world where people can summon the elements from their fingertips or bind demons to their service, I'd say reanimation is technically part of nature now," Sauron drawled. "Especially if magicka is a part of a person's body and all. It doesn't just come from nowhere. You'd know, you used magic after all."

"You're going to keep bringing that up aren't you?" Agni said in a low voice.

"Absolutely. Just to show you that you're a hypocrite."

Immediately the reanimated troll groaned and dropped dead once more. Sauron turned and stared at the corpse in confusion.

"Could have swore I extended the time for those…"

"Or you forgot I nearly cut the damn thing in half?"

Sauron shrugged and formed an orb of dark purple energy in his palm.

"Possibly. Oh well, gives me a chance to try this out."

Sauron flung his hand out to the side and summoned his Flame Atronach, Ghâshgûl appearing in a swirling dark portal. As the daedra cackled maniacally with the sound like an igniting fire, twin fireballs formed in her palms. Sauron extended his other hand and formed it in a clawing motion.

The troll clumsily climbed to its feet, much to Agni's shock. She eyed the walking corpse warily, as she couldn't see any telltale signs of necromancy on it (lack of black vapor, glowing blue eyes, and faint runelike markings glowing into it) yet it was still walking. As she observed the strange phenomenon, her battle-hardened senses flared to her right. She quickly sidestepped to avoid the fireballs hurled by the cackling Atronach while the troll lurched towards her with surprising speed.

Agni quickly ducked under the trolls swings and stabbed it through the head with her sword. Much to her surprise the troll ignored the sword unlike most necromantic constructs, and continued lashing at her with its claws. Add in the fact that she still had an insane Atronach hurling fire at her, and Agni was getting pretty perturbed at the situation.

It was when she glanced over at Sauron that she noticed that he was simply standing there, his right hand still held to the side with his fingers twitching slightly. As she glanced between his fingers and the troll, she made up her mind and ignored the troll and Atronach, lunging towards him with her battleaxe clutched in both hands. Leaping into the air, she let loose a loud battle cry as she brought the weapon down towards his head.

Cursing in Black Speech in his head, Sauron held both hands in above his body and formed a Ward as quickly as he could, barely having time to finish forming the magical shield before the axe split his skull.

A few feet away, the troll dropped to the ground, much like that of a puppet with its strings cut.

"So I was right," Agni mused as she landed lightly on the ground, her axe still grinding against his shield. "You were controlling the corpse yourself."

"Well well well," Sauron remarked. "Seems we have a Nord with a brain after all. I really must document this finding when I return to my laboratory."

Subconsciously tapping into her rage, Agni removed one hand from the handle of the axe and aimed her palm at the troll's corpse. A surprisingly impressive burst of flames later, and the corpse was burning to ash where it lay in the snow. Sauron eyed the disintegrating troll and glared at Agni.

"Now that was uncalled for."

"Sorry, I thought you would have liked more evidence of a 'Nord with a brain' in action then?" Agni retorted with a smirk.

Sauron snorted and flexed his hand. Immediately the Ward pulsed and exploded outward, sending the armored Nord flying. Agni landed hard against the ground and groaned, pulling herself back to her feet while removing her sword from the pile of ashes that once was the troll.

"The hell was that?"

"Come now, don't tell me that all mages here use all the same spells with no variation?" Sauron called mockingly. "Well, I guess my small innovations must seem so marvelous in comparison to such mediocrity."

Meanwhile Ghâshgûl slipped away, idly waiting for her master's command. Sauron sighed and shook his head at Agni.

"Well then, I'm afraid you might be about to die should you continue to lose focus."

Agnir snarled angrily and raised her battleaxe, only for Sauron to fire a swift bolt of lightning at her. She quickly held the battleaxe diagonally in front of her, the weapon absorbing the brunt of the blow.

The downside was that the spell managed to break the handle of her weapon clean in half.

Swearing angrily, Agni chucked the end of the weapon with the axe head at Sauron, not even caring when he formed a Ward that the weapon bounced off of. She reached down to her side and unsheathed the second sword strapped there, moving into a ready stance with both blades held high.

Flipping the swords into a reversed grip, Agni roared and charged at Sauron. The mage formed another prism of energy and shattered it, reforming the long dispelled "mage armor" and sidestepping out of the way of her frenzied flurry of slashes and stabs. Forming a sphere of dark energy, Sauron tossed it in the air. The sphere reformed into an ethereal Daedric sword which Sauron caught and gripped with both hands to block her downward strike.

"So, even the mage uses weapons from time to time," Agni sneered.

"Well, when the situation calls for it," Sauron replied with a smirk.

Sauron pushed against Agni's twin blades, the ethereal blade holding firm. The Nord growled and sneered angrily at the Mage as she broke the lock between their blades and lashed out once more with a barrage of attacks.

What few attacks that weren't dodged or blocked with the Bound Sword barely managed to scratch the armor spell Sauron had cast. Growing very irritated with the current turn of events, Agni halted the onslaught of blades and stepped back. Sauron raised an eyebrow and gripped his weapon warily. Then, Agni reared her head back, almost as if she was going to yell.

"Fus RO DAH!"

Sauron's eyes widened as he quickly raised a Ward right as the wave of force slammed into his body, shattering the ward and sending him flying into a tree with a sickening CRACK. His body slid down the tree and fell still, his head falling forward in such a way that his neck lay at quite an unnatural angle. His eyes lost focus and dulled, his shocked expression slackening as his breathing ceased.

Agni breathed deeply and wiped the sweat from her brow, coughing for a moment before sheathing her blades. She winced as she gripped her arm while striding over to the mage's unmoving form. Upon kneeling down and placing her fingers against the side of his neck, Agni smirked and reached down to open his bag.

Right as she touched the clasp of the bag, the corpse turned black and slowly began to break apart, much to the Nord's shock.

Agni stared in horror as the "corpse" dissolved into a swarm of black snakes with fiery orange eyes that slithered off and vanished. She stood motionless, barely comprehending what she had just saw. That was when her instincts flared up and she quickly spun around.

Hovering a few feet off the ground was Sauron, unscathed and barely even having a layer of dust on the white robes whipping about in the wind. His face was impassive, coldly gazing at the Nord warrior as his eyes burned like fire with slit pupils. Sauron was holding up his right arm with a single finger extended to the sky, and it was what was hovering above this finger that immediately frightened Agni.

Levitating above his finger was a massive orb of fire and lightning, currently fueled by the summoned Atronach cackling behind him. Sauron smirked as the sphere finished expanding until it was about his height and hovered over his finger, crackling and sparking with the contained power of the inferno and electricity.

For the first time in her life, Agni would happily admit that she felt fear in this moment, as Sauron let out a series of sickly cackles that sounded far older and more sinister than his current appearance.

"I wonder if your skills will protect you against this?" Sauron remarked with a chuckle.

With those words spoken, Sauron tilted his hand on his wrist until he was pointing directly at the armored woman, the orb of combined flame and electricity being flung at his gestured target.

Seeing the massive ball of fiery death hurtling towards her, Agni wracked her brain for a quick moment and reared back her head right as the spell was about to connect.

"Feim ZII GRON!"

Right as she began speaking those words, the sphere contracted and compressed to the size of a fist before exploding. Agni grabbed her shoulder and grit her teeth, some of the flames having managed to connect before the effect of her words took place. Yet there she was from what Sauron could see within the inferno, looking faintly translucent and having an ethereal blue glow emanating from her body, the flames seeming to pass right through her. Sauron raised an eyebrow as she sunk to one knee while gripping her injured shoulder.

"So this must be the Thu'um that I read about. One of the supposed 'signs' that I was supposedly a Dragonborn to those dimwitted guards in Whiterun," he thought to himself. "While learning those Shouts would time-consuming, one or two might not be a bad thing in case I need an ace in the hole."

He glanced back at Agni to see the woman rolling out of the inferno right as the effect of her Shout expired. At the same time, Ghâshgûl disappeared back into Oblivion in a swirling purple portal.

"That Thu'um didn't last that long, despite being at full power…" Sauron mused. "There must be something about her. No normal Nord warrior knows and can use a Shout proficiently in battle, especially not more than one."

Sauron idly checked his magicka reserves. While not depleted enough to be a problem, if he continued using spells like that then he could empty them through prolonged use.

Agni staggered to her feet, using the blades of her swords to right herself and steady her stance. Panting slightly in exhaustion, she held each weapon in a reversed grip and stood defiant against the floating mage. Sauron looked down at her and sighed, lowering down until his feet touched the ground. The Nord woman snarled angrily at Sauron before covering her mouth with her fist and coughing.

Sauron eyed the splatter of blood now decorating the knuckles of her gauntlet, filing it away in the back of his mind.

"So you continue to fight," he mused. "The famed Nordic stubbornness makes its appearance, as always."

"True Nords never back down!" Agni roared.

"Indeed. And that is the reason why you will die here today," Sauron remarked as electricity began to curl around his clenched fist.

The Nord woman tensed and rolled to the side to dodge the bolt of lightning, only to be forced to drop her sword when Sauron's final enthralled wolf lunged out of nowhere and latched onto her wrist, managing to bite down hard enough to penetrate the metal of her gauntlet. Grimacing, Agni dropped her other sword and grabbed the wolf by the muzzle and force its jaw open. Once her arm was free, she then proceeded to grip its lower jaw and pull with enough force to split the wolf's head in half.

Sauron quickly formed another set of magical armor and darted towards the Nord, slapping a hand onto the ground and using it as a focal point to somersault over her. Agni followed his leap and quickly turned to face him, stepping back with one foot as she did.

The ground under her foot glowed for a moment and an intricate purple rune flashed for a brief second before exploding into several bolts of lightning. Agni grit her teeth and picked up her swords, ignoring the pain from the electricity and the blood running down the holes made in her gauntlet. Letting loose a battle cry, Agni charged at Sauron and began slashing wildly once more. Sauron let the armor take the first hit before dodging the second and forming another sphere of dark energy.

The sphere morphed into the now familiar shape of a Bound Weapon, only this time it wasn't a Daedric sword that was formed.

It was a mace.

Sauron spun the weapon in his hand, smirking slightly as fond memories of his old mace drifted through his mind. He quickly used the ethereal weapon to deflect some of Agni's blows before ducking under her guard and smashing the head of the mace into her chest. The steel plates of her armor held, only denting slightly. Sauron raised an eyebrow and backed up to avoid her downward slash from her swords.

"Your armor is well-forged," he remarked.

"Made it myself!" Agni snarled and lunged at the mage once more.

Sauron sighed and casually formed a Ward to deflect the hit before walking past her and bashing her on the shoulder with his mace. Agni swore and stared at her foe before rearing back her head.

"Tiid KLO UL!"

While there was no visible effect that Sauron could see, the effect of the shout on the Nord warrior was unmistakable. From the moment the third word left her lips, Agni began to move so swiftly that Sauron couldn't even track her with his eyes.

This proved to be problematic when his Mage Armor was quickly shattered under an unstoppable barrage of attacks from all directions. To make matters worse, he couldn't even form a Ward in time to deflect the blows. By the time the Ward was fully activated, the blow had already landed and another had connected shortly after. No matter how Sauron attempted to position himself to dodge or block a blow, each attempt continued to fail as Agni somehow moved faster than his considerable reflexes were able to react to.

As slashes continued to impact across his body, Sauron idly made another mental note to study more about the Thu'um, even as a second barrage of blows shattered his Bound Mace into wisps of magical energy.

Right as Sauron instinctively raised a Ward hoping to block a single attack, Agni seemed to slow back down to a normal, if much slower, speed than she had been attacking at for the past few moments. This drastic drop in speed not only allowed Sauron to block the twin blows from her swords with his Ward, but surprisingly enough the energy shield didn't shatter like before. The shock was clear on Agni's face, as well as the grin on Sauron's. Oddly enough Agni was able to notice a faint glimmer of relief in his eyes.

"So like your previous Thu'um, this one has a time limit for its effect," Sauron mused, forming a glimmer of golden light in his free hand that lanced out in arcs of energy that sifted through his body and slowly healed his wounds. "Quite a shame in my opinion."

Sauron quickly flexed his fingers, causing the Ward to pulse outward and send Agni flying backward. Once the Ward disappeared, Sauron constructed a new Bound Mace in his right hand and darted towards Agni. The Nord woman dug her feet into the ground and stopped her backward motion, only to look up and receive a mace blow that smashed across her face. Once more, Agni was sent sprawling to the ground while Sauron idly spun his ethereal weapon.

"Not only that, but it seems that such a massive increase in speed leaves you weaker after the effect runs out. Given such a side effect, I'm guessing that either the downsides are constant or that you are unfamiliar with utilizing that Thu'um," Sauron remarked. "If the effects had lasted just a bit longer, I'm sure you might have actually defeated me. But since that is not the case, you're not going to be winning this little skirmish of ours."

"Doesn't mean I'm going to back down though!" Agni snarled, spitting out blood and a tooth as she spoke.

"Spoken like a true Nord I suppose."

Sauron formed a ball of fire in his free hand and proceeded to launch it at the downed woman. Agni rolled to the side to avoid the projectile, taking her dropped swords in hand and lunged at the mage once more. Sauron sighed and lazily sidestepped the sluggish sword slashes before giving a flick of his hand. Instantly a Ward pulsed into existence right before Agni and blocked her strikes as well as expanding to knock her off balance once again. The Nord woman grit her teeth and staggered to her feet, ignoring the current effects of her injuries.

The former lord of Mordor eyed her dispassionately, dispersing the Bound Mace in his hand and ceasing all forms of magic.

"Why do you continue to fight, even when you have no chance of succeeding at this point?"

"Because I must continue to do so, for the sake of my honor and that of those whose honor you have tainted!" she snarled.

"Honor," Sauron scoffed. "The honor you speak of is no less than pride that you try to masquerade as such. You fight for the sake of your own spurned pride, claiming it to be honor, and it is that pride that will cause you to fall here now."

"Big talk from a cowardly elf!"

"Cowardly elves you say?"

Sauron and Agni both turned to notice a trio of Altmer approaching them, two of them clad in golden armor embossed with an eagle on the helm, the other clad in the leather robes of the Thalmor and currently on horseback. Upon noticing them, Agni cursed under her breath, while Sauron gained a noticeable smirk on his face.

"By the eight, what is going on here?" the Thalmor Justicar remarked irritably. "A Nord attacking an elf, even one not of any recognizable race of mer, is not something we can simply overlook."

The Justicar glanced between the two from his horse before focusing on Sauron.

"You. Identify yourself and explain what happened. Now."

"Certainly," Sauron said with a nod of his head. "My name is Annatar, and I am a mage of the College of Winterhold. I had completed my business in Whiterun and was going to stop in Windhelm for the night when she attacked me on the side of the road, claiming to be 'avenging the honor' of one of her companions who had attacked me the previous day in Whiterun."

"That's a damn lie and you know it!" Agni bellowed, only to receive the point of a golden sword embossed with an eagle on the hilt aimed at her throat.

"Be silent Nord!" the armored Altmer snarled.

Agni wisely kept silent. Satisfied, the armored elf sheathed his blade and nodded at the Justicar. The Justicar turned back to Annatar and motioned with his hand.

"My apologies. The people of this land can be quite stubborn. Continue."

"Of course," Annatar replied. "I was able to hold her off sufficiently enough due to my skill with magic, but due to a few unexpected tricks that she had we were somewhat evenly matched for a few moments until you arrived."

"Very well," the Thalmor officer remarked, turning to Agni. "You, Nord. Should I even bother to ask whether or not you have a different story than him, or should I go ahead and assume that he's telling the truth and arrest you here and now due to your silence on the matter?"

"Arrest me!? On what charges!?"

"Assault, attempted murder, and possibly a hate crime," one of the armored Altmer replied. "Do we need to go on?"

"Hate crime!?" Agni choked out. "That's rich coming from the Thalmor!"

"Perhaps we should add 'insulting an officer of the law' and 'resisting arrest' to that list then," the same Altmer muttered under his breath.

"What the- the first of those two isn't even a crime!"

"Unfortunately for you, it is if we say it is," the Justicar replied. "So come quietly, or will we have to use force?"

Agni stood silently, seemingly pondering her options as the Thalmor officers put their hands on their swords. Her mind made up, she swiftly unhooked her shield from her back (mentally cursing herself for not using it that often during her battle with Annatar) and hurled it straight at the Justicar on the horse. Due to his current position seated in the saddle, he only barely managed to lean to the side to avoid it, nearly falling of his horse as he did.

The moment the armored elves turned their heads towards their superior officer, Agni took her chance and took off running as fast as her armor and injuries would allow. Annatar noticed Agni making her escape and launched a lightning bolt at her that she barely dodged. The Justicar righted himself in the saddle and pointed a gloved finger at the fleeing Nord.

"Seize her!"

The two armored elves nodded and unsheathed their swords before charging down the road after the running woman. The Justicar sneered in her direction before turning back to Annatar, gently rubbing the horse's neck to calm the frightened animal as he did so.

"You said your name was Annatar, correct?"

"Yes sir," Annatar replied.

The Justicar reached into one of his saddlebags and extracted a scroll with a red wax seal and handed it to Annatar. The elven mage took the scroll warily and eyed the seal before looking back at the Justicar.

"And this is?"

"A message from our ambassador, Elenwen. She received a report from our operative in Winterhold, and expresses a desire to meet you in person."

Annatar nodded and pocketed the scroll before looking back up.

"I will try to meet her at our earliest convenience," he remarked. "Thank you for delivering this to me, and I apologize for any trouble I made you go through to deliver it."

"No worries," the Justicar replied. "I was just going to hire a courier, but given that I ran into you I thought it best to simply give it to you now. Now if you'll excuse me, I have a Nord to arrest."

Annatar bowed his head and stepped aside as the Justicar flicked the reigns of his horse and charged off after Agni and his companions, who had by this time managed to get near the stables of Windhelm. Sauron focused closely on the scene in the distance, and watched.

Right as the Thalmor officers were about to reach her, Agni said something (most likely another Thu'um, according to Sauron's deduction) that instantly shot her forward several yards in a few seconds before staggering into the gates of Windhelm. The Thalmor officers tried to follow, only to be accosted by the Stormcloak guards surrounding the battlements. Sauron sighed and turned away from the scene and started walking down the road in the opposite direction.

Windhelm had lost it's appeal to him at the moment. Sauron shook his head at the thought. It was a bit of a shame after all, he really wanted to meet that boy, even if to merely learn a bit more about this "Dark Brotherhood."

Nazir, the Dark Brotherhood's resident Redguard assassin, slipped into the side room, careful not to let his scimitar hit the doorframe, and stood there waiting for the room's sole occupant to notice him.

"Nazir, bit of a shock to see you in my humble chambers. I never thought I was worth the honor of it. Why are you here?"

"Careful boy. Don't get too cocky just yet because I needed to talk to you. I'm merely here to provide some information."

The man turned to face Nazir, never leaving his current position of sitting cross-legged a couple feet off the ground. He was clad in Dark Brotherhood armor, yet his was altered to be different from that of the usual red-and-black jumpsuit that most members wore. His armor sported less red and more black in the design, with a multitude of dark leather straps and belts crisscrossing over his torso. Embossed in red leather on his shoulders was a handprint that was the staple of the organization, and the hood was far more voluminous and was attached to a cape-like shoulder covering. (1)

The hood was currently down, revealing pale skin with pitch-black warpaint spread over his face in the shape of a skull. He had shoulder-length pale-blonde hair slicked back with a single braid on the left side, and pinkish-red eyes that narrowed at the Redguard before him. Wisps of multicolored energy wafted off from his outstretched hands before ceasing as he clasped his hands in his lap, still floating off the ground.

"What information could you possibly offer me?" he remarked. "And what would the price for it be anyways?"

"Nothing much in terms of price, save for maybe doing me a favor and offing somebody of my choice at some point."

The floating man pondered for a moment before nodding slightly.

"Fine. What do you want to tell me?"

"Just figured I'd let you know that your sister was nearly arrested by the Thalmor yesterday."

He froze, instantly dropping to the ground and staring at Nazir.

"As in Agni?" He sighed and put a hand on his forehead. "What did she do this time?"

"According to rumor, she was found outside Windhelm attacking an elven mage when the Thalmor arrived and took offense to that and tried to take her into custody," Nazir replied. "She supposedly managed to lose them thanks to a few of her Stormcloak buddies in the city who helped her out and kept her hidden from the Thalmor as they tried to comb the city for her before Ulfric threw them out."

"And given how the Thalmor are in terms of trying to capture supposed 'criminals,'" the man remarked. "It won't be long before one of them decides to lower themselves to coming to us hoping to hire us to off her."

"But we won't do that," Nazir replied. "You may be new and all, but you have proven to be a promising assassin. And unless you want to kill her yourself, we'll stay out of the way. Family sticks together, right Grimvar?"

Grimvar nodded, glancing off as his pinkish-red eyes glowed and the pupils morphed into a draconic slit.

"Yes indeed," he murmured. "Family sticks together."

Deep within the planes of Oblivion, a presence stirred and opened its metaphorical eyes to gaze onto Nirn once more. Upon noticing the energy signature of one person, the entity's interest grew.

"So Mairon, you have returned to the land of the living once more, and you are going to regain your power to rule once more…"

The entity let out it's approximation of laughter as it focused on the country of Skyrim.

"This will be most interesting…"

End Chapter

Author's Notes:

Phantom- Well, managed to get this finished and (hopefully) posted within a day of the new chapter of Nightmare Incarnate. So far so good! Hopefully this chapter is to everyone's liking, as I believe I've managed to get back into the flow of writing Sauron after writing Naruto for a while in other stories of mine (though not the canon Naruto).

The next chapter that should be posted (once we've written it that is) will be for The Witch-King Cometh, and then we'll have a relatively consistent schedule of posting between the three main stories Morgoth and I are working on. For those who are hoping for a new chapter of Percy Jackson and the Black Flame, I'm still stuck on where to go with that. Have no worries, it will not be abandoned and I will try to get back to it when I am able to. When that is though, I do not know. All I can say on the matter is just, bear with me. I'll update it eventually.

So that's all for now, and I'll see you all in the next update to one of my stories. See ya on the flip side!

(1)- If you wish to see what Grimvar's armor looks like, go to the Skyrim Nexus and search for the mod titled "Deadly Serious Shrouded Armor" I do not own the mod in question, but I never load up a game of Skyrim without one of the variations of that mod installed.