Chapter 1

In Death's Shadow

Disclaimer: I don't own Skyrim. Insert witty remark of "if I did".

A/N: I've been advised to add a trigger warning, so

Trigger warning: scenes of abuse.

Matthias shivered in the predawn chill as he set the logs in the hearth. He snatched up a scruff of tinder as his teeth chattered and nestled it among the wood. An infinitesimal spark drifted from his fingertips, miraculously managing to catch in the tinder, and spread, licking the rough hewn logs. He huddled before the pitiful warmth in his ragged clothing, wrapping his too thin arms around his gaunt ribs.

By the Divines, how many years had he lived here? He bit his lip, thinking. Last summer he'd turned… fifteen was it? So he'd spent seven years in this place. He rubbed his face. It felt like so much longer... The years dragged on like the endless pull of chains on a drowning man. Seasons changed, but the fear remained, ever constant. Matthias dusted off his hands and shook away such thoughts as he rose. He crossed the kitchen, his feet soundless upon the wooden planks. He couldn't risk waking him, after all.

He opened the cupboard and pulled out a knife and a handful of potatoes, then grabbed a pot from a nearby shelf as he went. Deftly, he began pealing. He smiled as he recalled the story the bard at the inn had told him. Matthias worked to commit every detail to memory. Perhaps if he finished all of his work, he would be allowed to visit the inn again and could finally hear how the tale ended. He shook his head and returned his focus to his task as, with the same deft movements, he cut the potatoes into cubes and threw them in the pot.

Heavy footsteps on the floor above made him jump in alarm. He swore as he dropped the knife and his lungs drug in great heaves of air.

He was up early.

Boots clunked slowly down the stairs like a dirge.

Matthias all but threw the pot onto the fire, his shaking hands working desperately to drape the pot's handle over the waiting hook above the flames. He swore as he missed twice before finally latching it.

"Where's my breakfast, boy?" a cold voice drawled, dripping with malice.

Matthias spun, then froze. His mind ran through a dozen replies. None of them would help.

"U-uncle Drax!" he stammered. "It just needs to cook a little bit longer."

"Oh, just needs a little bit longer, does it?" the man mocked. "You look at me when I'm talking to you!" he roared.

Matthias lifted his face, but kept his gaze on the wall next to his uncle. He'd learned long ago that he mustn't meet the man's eyes, regardless of Drax's words.

The grimy man was lean for the most part. His moderate muscles flexed as he ran a hand through his ever-unwashed hair. A stomach that loved mead was stuffed into a patchwork of leather armor. Chipped and missing teeth from bar fights long past showed through cracked lips as he snarled.

Drax stalked forward and Matthias had to forcibly remind himself not to run. It would be far worse if he did…

"It's a damn simple thing I ask you to do, isn't it boy?" the male breathed, a hand-span away from the boy's face.

"Yes, Uncle Drax," Matthias responded quietly, giving the only acceptable answer if he wanted to keep breathing.

"So why isn't it done boy!?" Drax roared, voice echoing off the walls.

Matthias flinched involuntarily.

"I'll have it ready in just a moment, sir," the boy promised.

Drax's hand shot forward, latching around Matthias's throat.

"Damnit boy, not a day goes by that you don't try my thrice-cursed patience!"

Matthias felt his feet leave the ground as he struggled to breath. With a curse and a shove, Drax threw him backwards and stalked from the room. Matthias's head struck the hearth, his outstretched hand narrowly missing the bed of embers as he fought against the stars that danced through his vision. He took a steadying breath and wove unsteadily to his feet, slowly. He grabbed the first cooking utensil his hand landed on and hurriedly began to tend to the potatoes, frying them to a golden brown as he mixed in an allotment of butter and salt. With a folded rag, he took the pot off the flame and scooped the potatoes out onto a plate. His stomach churned painfully at the savory aroma, but he pushed the thought away. With the mood Drax was in, he would not be permitted any food until nightfall. As he drew a clean fork from the cupboards, he thought of sneaking a small slice of cheese from an army of wedges stacked upon a wooden plate. But Drax would know. He always knew.

Matthias shut the cupboard without a sound and picked up the plate to take to the man, resigning himself that today would be a stupendously unpleasant day. Drax was leading a group of his "friends" to some old ruins, and just like always, the man would feel the need to put on a show for them. Matthias grimaced painfully at the thought, but still felt a slight thrill run through him at the prospect of getting to see outside of the city.

"Boy!" roared Drax, with the sound of a fist striking the furniture.

Matthias gulped and hurried his steps.

She drifted in a sea of lucid dreams. Visions of the world stretched before her eyes, a montage of things that once were, and that which rose to replace them. She sighed, and closed her mind against the endless tide. She had no desire to watch all she had known crumble into dust, forgotten in the incessant flow of time. The dreamer cursed the world and its inconstancy, but the pain in her heart did not abate. With a steadying breath, she pushed away the dreamscape. Better to drift in gray nothingness than continue this litany.

Her heart ached in the emptiness. Unbidden memories rose to the surface of her mind and trapped her once more in her dreams-turned-nightmare.

"Forgive me, my love, but there is no one else I can entrust with this task," came the familiar deep voice.

"I understand," came her reply. She was calm, facing the ordeal before her fearlessly. The dreamer wondered if she would have been so callous had she known how this taste of nigh-death would truly feel.

"This world hurdles toward chaos. We must do what is necessary to survive this maelstrom. For Him, we must endure," he touched her face as she settled into the stone sarcophagus.

She nodded, emotionless as the falling snow.

"Sleep now, unaged, unchanged, until the world is ripe for our return. Dream in peace, my love."

She smiled. "I will see you soon."

Magic swirled around the robed figure as lid to the sarcophagus began to grind shut. She felt the spell's power overtake her, but her eyes were focused only on the hooded man. She took great comfort in the fact that he would be the last thing she saw before the untold eternity ahead of her. The lid closed, and her breaths were the only sound in the too-small dark. A sliver of light from a crack in the covering provided more comfort than she would ever admit as she fell deep into slumber.

A raven perched atop the boughs of a verdant pine tree. It's eyes glinted with a ghostly sheen as it gave a great caw. The bird's head tilted to and fro, twitching and turning as it took in all the world around it. With another raucous caw, it leapt from the branch and took flight. The body shimmered, then disappeared entirely, reforming half a continent away.

Drax stood atop the hill and squinted down into the meadow beyond. He barked a laugh. With a twist, he called over his shoulder, "I can see the entrance lads!"

Cheers and grunts came back to him as the four other men trudged over the hill and began the decent to the bits of crumbling stone. Drax smiled with his calamity of teeth. That tiny entryway was going to lead them to being very rich men. He heard a clatter and a thud behind him and could only roll his eyes and frown as he glanced behind him.

"Matthias, get your face outta the blasted dirt, stand on your feet, and move your backside!"

"Y-yes sir!" came the stammering reply as the young man hastily rose and shoved a motley assortment of goods back in his pack.

Drax sneered and turned away, long strides easily catching up to his men. At least they'd have a sheltered spot to camp for the night. But if he heard one word, just one word from any of them about sleeping in a tomb, he was going to make them eat their blasted shoes. Or put a boot so far up one of their backsides that it had the same effect. The dead were dead. All that mammoth drool about corpses coming back to life was just to scare brainless dolts. Though, some small part of him had to admit, the tales were a bit… unsettling, but that was what a good old fashioned ax was for, after all.

"Oi, boss! I ain't sure this is the right place. Looks smaller than a troll's brain in there," called a burly nord from the entryway.

Drax frowned. Stupid oaf poking his head in before he got there. He quickly shook off his thoughts and hastened into the tomb. Sure enough, there was a small antechamber that led to a spacious room beyond, but that was it. This was nowhere near the scale of ruins they'd been led to believe.

"Curse it all!" he spat as paced the large, circular room filled with caskets. "Look around! Bash some walls! There's gotta be more! Some secret passage or something! Find it!" he demanded, all thoughts of bedding down for the night forgotten. They beat on the walls and heaved at long-rusted sconces which only crumbled to dust in their hands, but to no avail.

A hesitant voice barely carried through the din of activity.

"What if there's more than one entrance further along the hillside?"

Drax turned and glared at the gangly form of Matthias. The boy hunched down under the scrutiny.

"Yeah, yeah," Drax drawled as he grabbed the boy by the shoulder and shoved him out of the room. "Make yourself useful and start cooking dinner, boy."

Drax scowled. Why hadn't he thought of that? Stupid boy had made him look the fool now. He'd have to beat him for it later. Blast his sister for dying and leaving him with that brat.

"We'll snatch what we can from here and look around the area in the morning. For now, if we can sell it, grab it," he ordered.

They lit torches as the sun sank and resumed their scrutiny of the chamber, albeit more quietly. Dozens of sarcophagus lined the circular room, both on the ground and stacked on high shelves. The men took to matches of rock, parchment, dagger each time they pried another lid from one of the great stone coffins, the loser forced to be the one to search the dead for valuables. The horrid reek of death from the remarkably well-preserved remains dominated the space and caused more than one of the men to scramble outside before his stomach overturned. Drax swore a torrent of oaths that the cursed things somehow managed to still stink after who-knows-how-long.

Matthias watched through the open doorway as the men came to the last sarcophagus on the ground, directly across from the door. He smiled and shook his head as he stirred the now bubbling stew and the men went through the game of rock, parchment, dagger once again. One of the men swore and stamped the ground vociferously.

"Ey boy!" called a high-pitched voice. "Bring me some stew!"

"You can't be serious!" balked the burly nord. "How can you even think of food with all of this?"

"I'm hungry!" the first male protested, in a nasally whine.

The nord set his ax blade between the lid and heaved enough for the others to find a grip on the lid and haul it to the side. He glanced down, and dropped his ax.

"What in Oblivion?" he breathed.

Drax pushed through to look, and instantly regretted the decision. As one, the men backed away slowly.

"What in Oblivion…?" Drax echoed.

Words drifted through the darkness, scattered remnants like a half remembered dream. Alone they made no sense, but together, they crafted a single compulsion.

Wake.

The need thudded through the dreamer, like resounding thunder in her own flesh. Her mind twisted and turned, finally realizing what called her and fighting to obey. The black depths of unconsciousness pulled on her as if she fought with leaden feet to rise from the depths of the ocean.

At last she breached the surface and her eyes cracked open. The world spun in a nauseating vision of blurred color and stabbing light. She flinched and closed one eye against the pain. She heaved in a breath, then another as the world grew sharper and began to make sense.

In a flood, memory returned to her, casting off confusion and leaving only cold certainty in its wake. She welcomed purpose, relished in it. With shaking arms, she rolled to her side and pushed herself up to sit.

She gazed out into the torch-lit room and scowled. A gallery of men stared in horror at her. A scowl twisted her lips, jul, how wonderful. But at least they had sense, she smirked, as they backed farther away. She swung her legs out of the sarcophagus and sat staring at them. Her glimmering white hair fell forward as she moved before she tucked it back behind her pointed ears.

One of the men found his voice. His words came fast with unmistakable hostility.

She paused, glaring at him. She knew his words, but together she could not decipher the meaning. Did he speak in some form of code?

She scoffed and demanded their names, the current year, and the era.

They stared and looked between themselves, the four of them muttering in the same bewildering speech.

Tired of whatever foolish game they were playing, she lifted her voice and commanded answers.

They bristled at her tone as a caw cut through the air. A raven soared over their heads, its wings brushing along their hair as it passed. With a sound like the shattering of glass, it vanished into smoke upon the woman's brow. She closed her eyes for a moment and sighed, seemingly in relief.

"Listen here you damn hagraven!" spat a male as he shouldered his way past the others. "I want to know what in Oblivion you were doing in there! Are you some kind of blasted necromancer?"

She stared at him, blinking once, slowly. Was this truly what the language had become over the centuries? How disgustingly ineloquent.

"No," came her simple response.

"I don't think I believe you," he snarled. "But that staff in there looks mighty expensive. Tell you what, hand it over, and I might not kill you."

"Drax…" one of the men cautioned.

"Or maybe I could find another use for a pretty little elf thing like you…" he leered as he reached toward her face with a filth-encrusted hand.

She smirked.

"Krii."

The word thundered off the stone walls deafeningly. The men dropped weapon and torch alike and desperately clasped their hands to their ears to stifle the sound. …All save for Drax, who fell slowly backward, dead before he hit the floor.

"Anyone else?" she asked as the men slowly uncovered their ears, the pain still thudding in them with each heart beat.

"You stupid-" a male sneered in a whining voice as he drew his knife and lunged forward.

Ugh, such fools. Clearly they were useless.

With a wave of her hands, a wall of fire enveloped them before they could scream, leaving them blackened husks that writhed upon the floor. She smiled, and sighed as peace and quiet finally reigned. She had never been a morning person anyway.

She deftly lifted her staff from the sarcophagus and slipped it into its holster on her back. Her deep blue robes splayed as she spun back for the door, before she halted abruptly. Frozen in the doorway stood a boy, a bowl of stew trembling in his hands. Her head tilted sideways as she studied him with narrowed eyes. The fear emanating from him was palpable, locking his legs even as they shook.

"Step aside, child. I have no quarrel with you."

The boy did not move. In fact, she very much doubted he could.

She rolled her eyes as she stepped up to him.

Slowly, she reached her hand forward. He flinched and clamped his eyes shut. With a roll of her eyes, she pointedly nudged his shoulder.

"You're in my way," she iterated carefully.

Matthias cracked one eyelid open, then the other, waiting for some horrible spectacle of magic to turn him into a pile of ash. Yet as he watched her she merely stared at him pointedly. He gaped like a fish pulled from the water. Her features seemed unreal as her snowy hair and alabaster skin caught the flickering torchlight and shimmered. She was clearly elven, yet he could not place her race. Regardless, she looked much like he imagined a goddess would.

Matthias bit his lip, and did the only thing he could think to do. With still slightly trembling hands, he lifted the bowl of stew and offered it to her. He couldn't say exactly why. Puzzlement crossed her face as she stared back at him.

The woman frowned thoughtfully. He offered her food? Then this boy was a servant? A dark smile crossed her face. She could make use of this one.

"Boy," she proclaimed softly, accepting the offered bowl. "You will serve me now."

Matthias eked out a few short sounds as he tried to speak.

"Breathe," she bade.

He drew in a deep breath, then another. His mind desperately reminded him that in the face of such a being, he should definitely remember his manners.

"Y-yes, my lady."

She smiled. Reverence? This was good.

"What is your name, boy?" she demanded.

"Matthias, my lady," he gulped, wondering if he could gently object that he was by right, a man, not a boy.

"A strange name," she commented. "I am Midonliin, first among the disciples of Vokun."

The boy's face scrunched.

She sighed.

"Most simply call me Lyn."

She studied him for a moment. He was gaunt, almost frighteningly so, as if he hadn't had enough proper meals in years, and his eyes looked as if he hadn't slept soundly in just as long. Her will could wait a night. She would not risk the boy dying along her destined journey.

"Eat your fill, and sleep," she decreed, noting a pot of stew bubbling over a fire in the antechamber.

Matthias took two steps backward, then slowly turned toward the fire. With a second glance at the ethereal woman, he picked up a bowl and scooped a ladle full into it, then another, expecting at any moment a sharp reprimand and a kick to his ribs. When none were forthcoming, he hurriedly filled the bowl to the top and began to wolf down the contents, heedless of the scalding temperature.

Lyn sat across from him and leaned against the wall with her own bowl in her hands, staff propped against the wall beside her. With a grimace, she waved her hand, and the doors to the inner chamber swung shut, abating the repulsive stench from within. A gentle breeze stirred the night, drifting through the open entryway, allowing them to breath deeply as they finish their meal in peace.

Lyn absently set aside her empty bowl and stood. Matthias hastened to follow suit, but recoiled at her abrupt gesture for him to stay. With a relieved sigh, she emerged from the crypt into the blissfully cold night and ambled to the center of the meadow. The low carpet of mountain flowers gave off a sweet fragrance as she laid down amid them and gazed up into the sky, watching tirelessly as the stars wheeled through the opaque expanse.

Matthias gulped down another bowl of stew and nearly regretted the decision. His stomach was so full, it hurt. Wishing he could eat more, he set his bowl by his pack and bit his lip. Slowly, he crept toward the door, and leaned to look out it. He watched as the strange woman sat up, gazing serenely at the starry sky. The breeze picked up strands of her shimmering hair and let them dance through the air. He suddenly felt as if he were doing something terribly wrong by staring.

Almost as if she knew his gaze was upon her, she turned and beckoned to him with one hand. His legs sped him forward even as his mind lost all thought. She gestured to the grass beside her and he obediently sat. He had no idea how long they sat there, but soon, his eyelids grew far too heavy for him to fight. Absently, he found himself being led back into the ruins. He fought to keep his eyes open as she moved to return to her vigil outside.

"Don't go," he pleaded, suddenly terrified of the thought of being alone in the wilds.

"Leaving you would serve no purpose," she replied simply, glancing over her shoulder. "Sleep. I will be here when you wake."

He tried to fight the tide of sleep that threatened to overtake him, but lost. At the very least, he resigned, she would be the last thing he saw as he closed his eyes.

Matthias thrashed awake, throwing off a blanket. Breath heaving, he leapt up and looked all around him. Divines help him, he'd had the strangest dream. Some sort of wrathful goddess had risen from the grave before his very eyes and…

Oh by Oblivion…

"Are you unwell?" a voice inquired.

He spun and looked to the doorway. There, bathed in the gentle glow of morning stood the very woman from his dreams. The room swayed. Somehow he managed to remain upright.

"I- I'm sorry. I didn't mean to sleep so late," he stammered. In truth he had no inkling of what time it actually was, but rising early to prepare his uncle's morning meal was deeply ingrained in him as a means of survival.

"You required rest," she replied without emotion. "Eat, and rejoin me when you have finished," she bade, gesturing to the pot of left over stew already bubbling on a crackling fire before drifting back outside. He gulped, feeling as if he'd been punched in the stomach. His mind began to chastise him bitterly. He'd failed his duties already and she had had to perform them herself. What a wonderful start.

He shook the melancholy from his thoughts and grabbed his bowl. Greedily, he wolfed down the remainder of stew, this time actually pausing to blow on it. He scraped the pot clean of even the tiniest morsel, then stepped outside to wash it and the bowls in a nearby pool. With a pang, he realized he wasn't entirely sure if Lyn had eaten yet herself. He glanced up, half expecting a smack upside the head, yet she remained seated pensively, her back to him as she sat atop a fallen tree in the clearing's center. He ran back inside, stuffed the dishes back in his pack, doused the fire, and trotted up to her, slowing his steps as he approached.

She rose and turned to him. He sucked in a breath. Bathed in the shimmering sunlight, her form evoked a sense of majesty. Compounded with her iridescent icy eyes, and a lithe grace that showed in even the simplest of her movements, he found it remarkably hard to focus.

"Do close your mouth, lest a bird take roost in it," she sighed.

Hastily he clamped his mouth shut, flushing scarlet. His mind clapped slowly at his own stupidity and mentioned that the bird should smack him in the face while it was at it. Wait… he paused. That bird!

"What was that bird last night?" he blurted eagerly. "Was that magic?" He immediately felt stupid for asking a question that had such an obvious answer.

"Yes," she stated. "It was a…" she paused and thought, then shook her head. "It cannot be defined by a single word. It was a vessel, infused with a part of my soul. It lived the long ages as I could not, gathering knowledge as I remained dormant. Once I woke, it delivered to me all that it had seen and gathered. When I shattered the vessel, I reabsorbed the piece of my soul and the knowledge within. "

"That… sounds… useful…" he attempted, in confusion.

"Indeed," she smiled, then changed the subject. "There is a place not a bowshot from here that I would see. Once it bore the name Volskygge, though now, I know not what you call it."

Matthias frowned. That sounded like more of the old nordic ruins...

Just what he wanted.

She laughed softly, the musical sound delightful in his ears.

"Truly you have the most expressive face that ever I have seen! If you have thoughts, do speak them. I find your reticence depressing."

"You… might regret that," he attempted with a laugh.

"I rather think not. Mortals were granted a voice to be wielded, after all."

She turned and began the hike toward the ruins, smooth gait uncompromised by the rolling landscape before them.

In a breath, they crested a hill to find a mass of breathtaking ruins. They stood like a cold stone fortress in the jovial sunlight, the gray walls oddly soothing against the bedraggled mountainside.

"What is this place?" Matthias asked.

"Once it was a place of worship and safety. A city, in it's own right, though much of it seems to have vanished with the passage of time." Her voice held a note of sorrow as her azure robes billowed around her in the chill wind.

"It's beautiful," he offered.

"Would that you could see it as it was," she smiled ruefully.

An arrow streaked past Matthias's cheek and he leapt with a startled yelp.

"What was-" he began.

"You'll be so much easier to rob when you're dead!" roared a voice that dripped with vile intent.

Lyn stepped in front of Matthias as she snarled, fists clenching until her knuckled burned even whiter.

"Rakroved! Sacrilegious vermin!" she seethed, torrents of frost billowing around her hands. With a venomous cry, she flung a quartet of icy shards as large as her forearm speeding toward the ruins. Each found their mark as first one bandit, then another fell screaming from the ramparts.

"Defilers! I shall rend thee asunder!" she roared as she waited for more of the fools to show their faces. All that stirred was the fog from her breath.

Matthias did not dare to move as she turned to him.

"Are you injured?" she asked.

He shook his head slowly.

She nodded and cast a final glance over her shoulder at the ruins.

"Tiid fen vokrii," she whispered as she sighed. "I know not what I thought to find," she placed a hand upon his shoulder to lead him away. He flinched involuntarily, causing her to snatch back her hand.

She looked him over, brow furrowed. Her eyes narrowed suddenly.

"I will not strike you, child," she whispered. "Know that, if nothing else."

He nodded slowly in silence.

"Come, let us be gone from this place," she decreed. "Only sorrow lingers here."

He followed her as she turned east. Strangely, he found that he believed her promise. The rational part of his mind flailed its arms and yelled that she had in fact killed his uncle not even a full day ago. Matthias frowned, and guiltily admitted that he didn't really care. She'd treated him better in the last half a day than his "uncle" ever had. By his math, he'd come out on top. Yet another chain of reasoning berated him for such a conclusion. He shrugged the thoughts off without regret, like brushing leaves from his shirt. Besides, it wasn't like he had a wealth of options before him seeing as he was stuck in the middle of the wilderness with neither the skills to survive nor a means to defend himself.

Lyn led them steadily past a small lake nestled among the mountain peaks, then turned east along a rough game trail, somehow seeming to know exactly where she was going. In time, stone replaced dirt beneath their feet and Matthias could hear the torrential roar of a waterfall nearby. He noticed Lyn standing motionless ahead of him, and wrenched his gaze from minding his footing, worried that she'd seen some threat before them. His eyes looked past her, and his breath caught.

They stood atop a cliff, nauseatingly high in the air. A waterfall spewed from its face and hurdled down to the valley below, smashing heedlessly into rocks as it went. Below them, the village of Dragon Bridge sat, smoke drifting lazily from cook fires. Beyond it lay all of Skyrim, splayed out magnificently as if some great artist had lovingly rendered the scene. The marshes of Hjaalmarch glittered like dew to his left. To his right, the land steadily climbed into the mountainous Reach. The valley straight before him was lost in a ghostly haze, though he squinted until his eyes hurt to catch a glimpse. The realization of how small he was in all of it sent a shiver down his spine.

"Shall we?" Lyn asked.

Matthias jumped as he realized she was watching him. Quickly, he glanced all around them, seeking the path that descended to the valley below.

Her musical laughter drifted on the wind.

"Not quite," she said with the ghost of a smirk. As he looked back at her, she bide, "Hold on to me."

While he gaped thickly once again, she rolled her eyes and stepped up to him. Snaking her arms beneath his pack, she led him to the edge of the cliff holding him tightly."

"Hold on to me," she iterated again.

He gulped and looked down the side of the cliff. The waterfall crashed into two rocky shelves before finally meeting the valley floor. He latched on to her reflexively. A small part of his mind thrilled at the feeling.

"Feim zii," she whispered, power threading her voice. He flinched, expecting the cacophonous burst as before, but the words wove softly around them, enfolding them in a soothing embrace.

Without warning, her body tensed, and she threw them both from the cliff's edge. He bit off the scream in his throat and clenched his eyes shut, burying his face in her shoulder. An impact vibrated through him, yet there was no pain, only a disorienting lack of motion afterward. Hesitantly, he cracked open an eyelid. Legs, check; torso, check; otherworldly woman he was still clinging to, check. He... should probably let go now…

Carefully, the two eked down the treacherous slope, often having to sit and lower themselves to the rock below until they were near the bottom. Deftly, Lyn leapt from the final boulder and landed on the soft bank below. He stepped to the edge, ready to do the same.

"Oh no. No way," he breathed, shaking his head. The drop had to be at least four, no, five times his height! There was no way in Aetherius or Oblivion that he was jumping. None, not a-

"I will catch you."

He looked away from the dizzying height to Lyn's outstretched arms. Her voice held neither irritation nor affection, just an absolute certainty. He gritted his teeth.

"Are you sure?" he had to ask.

"Yes."

His mind told him he was mad. Absolutely, barking at the moon, mad.

"Matthias," she called.

He jumped and prayed to every divine he could think of before… she caught him. Lyn held him steady for a moment, with a strength that belied her slender form, then placed him upon the ground.

Matthias glanced back to the rock and found the spot from where he'd jumped. Alright, he conceded, so maybe it was only a little over twice his height. Still barking mad though.

Lyn tugged on his ragged sleeve as she started forward, winding through the handful of buildings that made up Dragon Bridge. Matthias gaped in wonder at the grand bridge from which the village took its name. The old nordic style stones arched over the steep canyon walls, bearing a glaring replica of a looming dragon's head. As the waterfall faded in his ears, he could finally hear the surging river as it carved its way through the gorge.

A line of people stood before the bridge, barred by a pair of guards who stood questioning a traveling merchant as he tried to keep his horse from biting the officer. Behind him stood a male in full ebony armor who tapped his foot impatiently and looked ready to put the war hammer on his back to use.

"I wonder what that's all about?" Matthias murmured.

The village bustled with activity. A farmer chopped wood while a woman carried it to the nearby inn and stacked it neatly. Friends called to one another as they passed, greeting or heckling good-naturedly. The air smelt of pine and juniper, both fresh and smoking as they burned in hearths.

A call carried through the air, heavy with accent.

"Tools, wares, and weapons. All for sale at reasonable prices."

Lyn turned immediately and began to walk toward the voice. At the outskirts of town, they found a small collection of tents. At the largest sat a male khajiit, speaking softly to another of his race. Matthias stared open mouthed. Never before had he seen one of the fabled cat-men of Elsweyr. Their features looked so… alien to him. It was unsettling.

Lyn patted his shoulder and leaned down to his ear.

"Lest a bird take roost," she sang quietly, a smile playing on her lips.

He started and snapped his mouth shut.

With an ease he envied, she stepped up to the khajiit and began to speak with him. The feline nodded several times and disappeared into the large tent behind him, drawing out a selection of goods for her to peruse. Matthias's eyes wandered, subtly trying to study the other khajiit in the camp.

"We are creatures of the desert," lamented a voice behind him.

Matthias turned to find a neatly clothed khajiit sitting atop a rock, whittling a piece of wood. The drooping mustache of facial hair provided the boy a much needed clue as to the feline's gender.

"The north wind chills us to the very bone," the khajiit continued.

Matthias tried to corral his speeding thoughts. Was the male trying to make small talk? His mind both sighed with relief and cheered. At least that he could do!

"Yeah, it's pretty cold today," he agreed amiably, a shiver creeping into his toes as the wind lanced through the holes in his shoes.

The khajiit nodded vigorously.

"I am glad we at least have set up our tents for the moment. Any shelter is better than none, yes?"

Matthias smiled a pained smile and mumbled agreements as he desperately tried to figure out the khajiit's actual words behind his thick, unfamiliar accent.

He watched as Lyn quickly sorted through an assortment of salted meats, fruits and vegetables, forming a small pile.

"So what's the story with all the sour-looking people at the bridge?" Matthias asked.

"The checkpoint? Ah yes, some trouble there," the khajiit affirmed in lilting cadence. "Apparently a day or so ago, a -what is the word?- stormcloak infiltrated the town, posing as a merchant. He killed two of the Penatus Oculatus before meeting his end. Now the guard are paranoid about everyone entering and leaving by the bridge. They fear their honor is tarnished. We have been waiting since morning to be permitted to cross. Ma'dran says they will permit us in time, but this I doubt."

"He killed two of the Penatus Oculatus?" Matthias breathed in disbelief. Defeating the Emperor's personal agents was no small feat.

"Don't be too impressed," the khajiit drawled. "He stabbed them in their sleep. As I heard, it was meant to be some gesture to the Imperials. What is that rude expression you do with your hands?" he asked, and threw him a fanged grin.

Matthias laughed and shook his head.

"Yeah, war stinks," the boy sighed. His mind clapped slowly at his brilliant statement. He yelled back that if it thought it could do better, it was welcome to help out at any time.

Beside the large tent, Lyn handed the khajiit merchant something that glittered in the sunlight. Matthias leaned to get a better look, the glimmer of gemstones unmistakable. He nodded several times and handed her back a bulky purse of coins which Lyn slipped into her robes, then departed with two large, laden sacks. Matthias bid farewell to his talkative acquaintance and hurried forward, quickly relieving Lyn of the cumbersome items.

"Thank you," she offered. "I have procured us food for the journey, among other essentials."

Matthias took a moment to stow the first bulky burlap bag in his pack, then, after finding the second wouldn't fit, tied it securely to the outside. He bit his lip, questions buzzing in his mind like a hive of bees. Finally, he resolved to press Lyn with a single inquiry.

"Where are we going?" he asked meekly.

"Not here," she retorted cautiously, glancing at the nearby khajiit and villagers milling about.

She gestured for him to follow as she led the way back to the bridge with powerful strides. The ebony clad warrior from before growled as he stood before the guards. The wind wiped the words away as they spoke, but from the gestures, he was finally permitted through and rudely shouldered his way past the two sentinels.

Lyn apathetically made to follow the warrior through.

"Halt!" the guard on the left demanded, moving his shield to block her way. "State your business, elf."

"My business is none of yours," she coldly returned.

Matthias cringed inwardly. If one wanted to keep their insides from being on their outsides, one generally did not speak to a guard like that.

The man placed his hand on his sword hilt none too subtly.

"I'll ask you one more time elf, or can't you hear me with your pointed little ears. State your damned business. I've no patience for your kind."

Lyn stared the man down, unmoving. For a moment she appeared to be made of ice.

"Step aside kiir. You are in my way," she finally replied softly, the undercurrent of a threat suffusing her voice.

Matthias sucked in a breath. He shifted from foot to foot uncertainly. By the Divines, someone had to diffuse this situation before it exploded. Specifically before Lyn exploded them. He bit his lip, wondering what he could do.

"You're coming with me. Now," the guard demanded.

"Oh, I think not."

Matthias stepped forward, catching Lyn's sleeve.

"Please wait, maybe if we all just…"

"You damned, arrogant she-daedra!" the armor-clad male spat, lashing out his hand to grab her.

In a blink, Lyn's arm shoved Matthias behind her.

Words whispered through the air and before Matthias could even guess their meaning, a thunderous shock wave exploded before them. The belligerent guard careened through the air, tumbling end over end until he slammed into the side of the cliff opposite them with an audible crack.

"Step. Aside," Lyn commanded slowly, turning to the other sentry. He backed away hastily, palms outstretched in a gesture of surrender.

"Just go," he insisted.

Lyn wove her arm around Matthias's shoulders, pulling his slender form right up beside her. Together they strode across the bridge, the few guards along it eyed them with open hostility and the promise of violence. Lyn stared each of them down in turn as she passed.

After what seemed like years, they reached the cliff beyond and stepped onto the cobbled road. The two walked on quickly until the village faded from view. Matthias struggled free of her embrace and stared at her defiantly.

"You… killed that man," he accused before he bit his lip and cast his eyes down to the road beneath his feet.

"Yes," Lyn drawled as if he were stupid.

"You didn't have to," he protested, then hunched his shoulders as he lost his confidence and unconsciously tried to make himself as small as possible.

"He impeded my progress. That was his mistake," she replied.

"He was just doing his job…" he offered, then his voice gained strength as he added, "It could have all been avoided if we just made up some stupid story! Why…"

Matthias looked up to see her standing directly in front of him. He nearly jumped out of his own skin.

Her hand shot forward and grabbed his chin, forcing his head up until he met her eyes.

"You seem suddenly surprised that I am capable of killing, but I will indulge you. I killed him because he was weak, and I am not. There is only one truth, dear child: power. At the end of the day, if I am stronger, then I may rule."

"You killed him… because you could?" he repeated.

"I killed him because he challenged me. It was his own folly for engaging a superior opponent. He should have better known his place."

Matthias shivered as he stared into her impassive, icy gaze.

"Then why did you spare me?" the words whispered from his mouth before he realized he'd uttered them.

Her eyes became distant and thoughtful, and the ghost of a solemn smile touched her lips as she released him. Lyn scoffed and did not answer for a breath, then finally afforded him a whispered response.

"I wish to see what you will become."

His brow furrowed as he struggled to make sense of the statement. Somehow the words seemed not her own. He cringed as a blast of wind buffeted them both and he huddled into himself. When he glanced back up, Lyn was watching him carefully. At length, she seemed to reach some sort of decision, and drifted behind him.

"Here," she said.

He felt the pack lift from his shoulders and turned to inspect the proceedings. She set the bulky monstrosity atop a low boulder and opened one of the large sacks from her earlier purchase, rummaging through for but a moment before drawing out a bundle of cloth.

"Try these on," she insisted, offering the small mass.

Matthias studied her for a moment, then stepped forward, curiosity getting the better of him as he took the item in hand and studied it.

"Clothing?" he breathed.

She nodded.

"I can have them?"

"They surely will not fit me," she returned with a barely concealed smirk.

He clutched the bundle to his chest as his gaze darted to and fro, finally settling on a grove of trees. He dashed into them and carefully made sure that Lyn couldn't see him. He frowned, staring at his ragged shirt and pants, both far too short for him. His shoes likely had more holes than they had actual material left. Eagerly, he changed into the new vestments and marveled at them. The drab brown pants were beautifully sturdy and blissfully warm while the tunic was the softest thing he'd ever felt in his life and just as insulating. He even had a pair of undergarments now! He laughed and gathered his paltry former clothing as he dashed back to Lyn. Her back was to him as she set aside one sack in favor of the other.

"Ah," she triumphed, pulling out first one boot, then another and holding them out to him as she continued sifting through items with her other hand.

Matthias swallowed. Boots too? That's it, he was dead, wasn't he? Because, really, that would explain so much right now.

"Take them," Lyn sang with a roll of her eyes.

He hastened to obey.

"Do they fit? I suppose I should have had you try them on earlier," she mused.

"Um," he began hesitantly as he slipped them on his feet. "Maybe?"

"Maybe?" she retorted with a grimace, glancing back at him.

"I'm… not sure what shoes are supposed to feel like…" he finished with a note of embarrassment.

Lyn frowned. She had the strangest urge to choke the life from whomever had been so neglectful of the boy. She shook the thought away quickly, busying herself by leaning down and poking at the boots from all sides, leaving Matthias looking at her in puzzlement.

"Hm, a bit big, but not too bad," she stated. They would serve him well enough in the coming days. She pressed a final item into his arms, gesturing for him to open it as she returned the scattered items to the bag. Matthias unfurled the heavy brown coat and gaped at it for a moment before hastily shoving his arms into the sleeves as if it would disappear. It fell to his knees while he buttoned it closed and carefully resettled the hood.

Matthias swallowed again, and turned to Lyn. She looked him over and gave a satisfied nod.

"Come now," she announced, handing him back his pack.

They walked on for a time as the sun slowly drifted down from its zenith. A foul odor wafted through the air as they approached the frigid marshes of Hjaalmarch. In time, they came to a pass that cut through two grand hills. On the other side sat the dreary village of Morthal. Little save the wind moved.

"Let us find a room at the inn for the night," Lyn bade, starting down the sloping path.

"Wait," Matthias entreated, catching her sleeve gently. "When are you going to tell me where we're going?"

Lyn turned to him, a dark smile slowly alighting her face.

"It's not the 'where' that should concern you, child," she replied softly, tracing a finger down his cheek.

Matthias bit his lip and stepped back.

"Then… what is it you plan to do when we get there?" he asked hesitantly.

She laughed softly, eyes dancing with pleasure.

"You'll see soon enough," she replied cryptically.

Dire warnings rang in Matthias's mind as he looked into her terrifying and enthralling gaze. He took another step back.

She surged forward and gripped his face in both hands, demanding his full attention as she leaned down and looked directly into his eyes.

"You serve me now. If you run, I will find you," she promised.

Matthias did not dare breathe. His mind reeled and jumbled his thoughts so completely, all he could do was return her piercing stare. Hesitantly, he nodded his head.

Lyn smiled in satisfaction and released him. She ushered him down the cobbled road as they set off toward the inn. With a conscious effort, she smoothed her expression before the desire to leer viciously escaped her. She glanced at the boy. There seemed to be a defiant spark buried deep within him that she found exquisite. She bit her lip.

It would be hard to put the blade in his chest when the time came.

A/N: New chapters will be posted every other Monday, to the best of my abilities. Sorry for the wait, but work is rather hectic at the moment. :) -Azi