Chapter 1: Big trouble in Little Winterhold

7th of Sun's Dawn 4E 207

"Hermaeus Mora is laughing at us you know."

"Of course he is. He's a bastard."

"That was your only impression?"

"Way too many eyes. The tentacles were also a bit much and that voice. Ugh. How did you put up with that?"

"My options were limited."

Silence. Slightly awkward silence.

Two figures stood outside the general goods store just on the edge of what was left of Winterhold. The second, a tall, broad shouldered man wearing a gold mask and embellished robes, glared vehemently at the dark-haired woman next to him.

"I'm cold."

"I'm sure you are. Probably shouldn't have snubbed the armor I offered."

"I did not snub it. It didn't fit and it was Skaal armor. You know how I feel about them."

"Beggars can't be choosers and you know I could have made adjustments. So, deal with it."

Miraak sighed. Arguing was pointless; he knew this and yet he did it anyway – it was the only thing bringing him joy at the moment as his feet went numb. He shifted back and forth to stimulate blood flow. The corner of the woman's mouth twitched as the ghost of a smirk at his discomfort.

"I wouldn't have to 'deal with it' if this plan made sense. We're going to stand here for eight hours and wait? That's moronic. There's an inn right over there but if you're too impoverished, I'm sure they're willing to let you trade work for lodging." He sniffed.

"We're not poor now stop whining or I'll make you carry the dragon bones."

"I don't know what our current financial situation is, but I would ascertain it is dire based on the fact we're standing outside a godsdamn shop waiting for it to open."

More silence. Even the wind stopped howling to listen in.

Miraak studied her face; she appeared calm except for the tension in her jaw. Another prod and she would give in.

"It's not as though we'll be waiting in line when they open. The population of this 'city' could fit in a broom closet compared to what it used to be. Not to mention I highly doubt there will be sudden demand for random shit you found in a barrow."

"Fine. We'll go to the inn." Her reply was terse "but you're sleeping on the floor."

Behind the mask, he was grinning. It may have been petty and the floor would be cold but it still counted as a win.

Aleaksi Medici, the Last Dragonborn, proud imperial and savior of Solstheim ('Savior' was being generous) was feeling the dreaded after effects of excessive hedonism. Had she planned to drink that much? No, but when someone offers to buy the Dragonborn a round or ten, it's impolite to refuse.

While the hangover was vicious, it was a bit different; the persistent headache and feeling of nausea was made worse by the obscenely bright ball of light hovering above her bed. She glared and took a swipe at it; the light persisted. So, Miraak was being passive aggressive again she surmised. She began weighing the pros and cons of facing Alduin on her own. Yes, she had asked for assistance but at what cost?

Maybe she didn't need help. Maybe she could make Miraak's death look like an accident – perhaps he could succumb to a bad case of strangulation or just happen to get shouted off a cliff ledge. That option seemed easiest.

Oh, the possibilities.

She smiled at the thought then realized he was staring at her.

"You're awake – good. I've taken the liberty of going to the shop and selling the extra-"

"You better not have sold my sword! They'll never give you what it's worth." She cut in.

"-armor and dragon bones-"

"What! Why? We need those!"

Aleaksi tried to stand up but found she was still slightly inebriated; the room convulsed, and she grabbed the bed frame. Nausea returned in full force this time causing her to cover her mouth and inhale slowly. Once the danger had passed, she threw a nasty look at him.

"I was going to make more armor" she snarled.

"Armor no one can afford to buy, and you've got more than enough materials to work with." He could poke holes in her arguments all day. "Your obsession with not only collecting their remains but hoarding them is worrying."

"Really? This coming from the man who had a temple filled with dragon skeleton statues. There were twenty-one at least!"

Miraak blinked.

"Those are trophies. There's a difference, but I would not expect those of the common realm to understand."

"Oh, and mine aren't trophies? And 'common realm' my ass. You're the one who slept on the floor last night so get off your high horse."

He'd never admit it, but she had a point. Maybe he had been a bit excessive with the arrangement of the skeletons, but he was also making a statement: fuck with me and I'll eat your soul. Not that it had stopped any of them – it seemed to have the opposite effect. Who knew Dragons and Dragon Priests took offence to blatant desecration? It wasn't long before word got around about his little uprising – the words 'traitor' and 'heretic' were thrown around quite a bit. Next thing he knew, Vahlok was knocking on the front door of the temple saying he just wanted to talk…

Miraak shook his head. Those memories didn't need to surface; they were the beginning of an ugly downward spiral that ended with him becoming a daedric errand boy. They needed to focus and she needed to sober up. It was almost noon and they had things to do.

He wrinkled his nose. "You smell like stale wine and shame. We can't go to the college like this."

"Have you been to a college? Nevermind don't answer that. Look, they won't care - most of them are hungover or too baked to function and that's just the instructors. The only exception to that are the wide-eyed freshmen who are happy just to be included or the TAs that have more shit on their plate than they can handle. Its education. it's going to make people drink. I swear, last time I was visiting, there was an obviously evil Thalmor put in place as an advisor – and no one said a thing about it. He nearly blew up the godsdamn building."

"You're being dramatic" he rolled his eyes.

"I am not. He had the Eye of Magnus and kept poking at it with a magic stick. I had to find a staff for it and take him down a peg."

"Oh, that. Yes, Mora was interested in the eye at one time but not enough to act. Apparently, that would have been 'stepping on toes' and no, he didn't elaborate on who's 'toes' he was referring to. I assume it has something to do with Morokei as he was the last one to possess the staff."

"Well, I have it still."

"Have what?"

"The staff of Magnus."

Miraak mentally filed this away under devious plotting before responding "Well, it should be locked up away from you especially - It's incredibly powerful."

"Ha! And you say I'm being dramatic. It's in a safe place."

"Oh? And where's that?"

"It's in the library at home holding up the squeaky table." She said matter-of-factly as if talking about the weather or a mildly interesting book.

Miraak stared at her for a moment then put up his hands in surrender. "I have no words."

"That's a first now go outside so I can get dressed. I must look important – I'm kind of a big deal. Like a Dean or something."

"…Right."

Even though it was midday, it felt colder outside than the night before. Razor winds cut through layers of clothing with ease, but this did not detour the residents of the decrepit city from their daily routines.

In the distance, the College of Winterhold loomed snow covered and ancient. As the strange pairing approached, a large chasm appeared with a shear drop that meant a frigid death for anyone who did not stay on the illuminated path. The large spikes of ice that hung from the narrow walkway creaked and groaned with each step adding an element of paranoia.

Aleaksi trudged forth occasionally brushing snow off her shoulders or kicking ice over the side, familiar with the crumbling walkway. Miraak, with the knowledge that he was mortal again, was hesitant.

"Are you certain this is the only way?"

"Yes. Now c'mon."

"This bridge should be repaired. One strong gust and people will die. Such irresponsibility should be addressed."

"I didn't realize you were such a humanitarian. Perhaps I was fooled by the mental enslavement of an entire island. Let's go already."

Once on the other side, they passed through ice incrusted gates to an open courtyard which contained a large snow-covered statue of Arch-Mage Shalidor, the founder of the College. Captured in a permanent state of motion, the prominent mage observed all that entered The Hall of Elements. Because of the harsh winds, no one bothered to loiter outside.

Upon entry, they were met with a warm gust of air. The scent of burning spices and dust assailed Aleaksi's nostrils causing her eyes to water; she never could get used to the smell. A small group was gathered discussing a lecture that had taken place.

"Greetings Arch-Mage" nodded one of the students.

Miraak paused. No, he had misheard that…had their standards really fallen so far?

"Good to see you Arch-Mage!" This time it was a member of faculty. Oh hell. Shalidor must be rolling over in his grave.

"Nirya…always a pleasure" Aleaksi's smile was forced and unconvincing.

Miraak frowned but didn't say anything until Nirya walked away.

"Arch-Mage? They can't be serious. You barely have a grasp of Adapt Level Destruction - not to mention your Alteration, Restoration and Conjuration skills are laughable! Have you even acknowledged the school of Illusion?"

"This coming from the person using one of my enchanted daggers."

"Yes, and I'm surprised you didn't blow yourself up in the process of creating it!"

She shrugged. "I didn't ask for the title. It was just sort of given to me after the Eye of Magnus issue a few years ago. Honestly, I think it's more of a figure head position considering I will be away for months at a time and they don't seem to notice. I'm not making any important decisions but I'm the first one they'll ask to address the public when something bad happens. Besides, Tolfdir is the power behind the throne – I'm just the mouth piece."

"That's…interesting. I've heard your speeches. Tell me, how is their relationship with the surrounding community?"

"It could be better." She mumbled.

"Ah."

"Shut up."

"Such eloquence. A true master of words." He scoffed as they climbed a short flight of stairs.

She pushed open a heavy wooden door which lead to The Arcanaeum. Massive shelves lined each wall stretching up to the vaulted ceiling; some of the books were available for everyone but several sets were locked within bared glass cabinets. Upon closer inspection, each one appeared to be older than time itself – a vast collection that spanned centuries. The subtle movements of students searching the shelves or quietly studying kept the room from complete silence; every now and then, a sneeze or cough would break the calm usually followed by a quiet apology. The only other sound was the quiet thonk of a rubber stamp being applied to pages.

Toward the back wall behind a large desk stood an orc with a stoic expression. He was surrounded by books and scrolls that patiently waited to be checked-in and shelved. Despite the endless nature of the task, he worked at a set, meditative pace. Another student appeared a moment later pushing a large cart; several more books were added to the pile.

Miraak continued to observe was but decidedly unimpressed.

"I've seen bigger" He muttered to Aleaksi.

"Of course, you have. You lived in Apocrypha – it's nothing but books and tentacles" She hissed back.

"Mora had several copies of The Lusty Argonian Maid and I'm not sure why" He frowned.

Before she could respond, the gruff voice of the l cut the Liberian cut their conversion short. Urag Gro-Shub had taken notice of them as was not impressed.

"Disrupt my Arcaneum, and I will have you torn apart by angry Atronachs. Now, is there anything I can help you with?"

"It's nice to see you too, Urag. We've found more of Shalidor's work. This one was stuck in a cave with a troll." Aleaksi responded quickly while producing a book with a strange cover.

"Excellent! I'll start translating it. Shouldn't take me more than a day or two. However, there is another book – the last known location was Lost Valkygg near Labyrinthian. I expect it within a week."

"A week? It takes that long to get up the damned mountain!"

Urag grinned. It wasn't pleasant. "Then I suggest you walk quickly Arch-Mage. If you can track the book down, it may prove useful to all of us."

Miraak raised an eyebrow. The obvious inflection hinted at slight dissent, but the reasoning was understandable. If he had been surprised at her title, then he could only imagine the reactions of the senior members that didn't agree with the placement. After all, no one went from Apprentice to Master within a few weeks and skipping ahead like she had was bad decorum. It set an uncomfortable precedent; if this barely educated sell-sword could walk in and fill a high-ranking office within the school, then where was the bar set?

As they left the Arcaneum and walked through the Hall of Elements, he made it a point of closely observing the interactions with the other faculty members. Tolfdir was the only one who was genuinely happy to see her, and she knew this. The others plastered on their fake smiles then continued with their day. It would have been sad if it wasn't so fascinating.

They continued through the city heading west, past the ruins of Saarthal. Once they were outside Winterhold, Miraak broke the silence.

"The Orc did not seem respectful of your authority and title. It's almost as if you're a little resented."

Aleaksi knew what he was doing but didn't acknowledge it.

"Who was he to order you around like that – as if you weren't Laat Dovahkiin, Thane of all nine holds-"

"Only seven. Riftin and Windhelm still hate us." She corrected.

"-seven holds. My apologies Thuri."

She stopped walking and turned to look at him.

"Are you done? Have you gotten it out of your system?"

"I don't know what you're talking about." He sneered. "I'm simply making an observation. You're a joke to them and they're not even bothering to hide it anymore. Tell me, who was the most vocal when you received your 'promotion'? Was it the Altmer or the Orc?"

"Neither. It was the Restoration instructor Colette. Now are you done being an ass?"

Miraak crossed his arms but didn't say anything. More than likely this would turn into a spat, a shouting match or they would draw their blades on each other. Their arguments were unpredictable at best.

Aleaksi returned his glare. "Well?"

"No" he said simply.

"Then what is your problem? You've been trying to pick a fight since we left Falkreath. Now I understand some of that is just your pleasant personality but I'm beginning to think there's more to this temper tantrum than you're letting on. So, Miraak, why are you acting like a such a petty little bitch? Hmm?"

There was a nasty glint in his eyes now; she'd touched a nerve.

"Your observations are as always, completely off the mark." He began pacing in the snow before stopping in front of her. His voice was calm, but his balled fist gave him away. "I wasn't aware that I was the one rolling over for these cowards, these dullards, these…people - but I'm the 'little bitch'." he scoffed at her. "You answer to their every beck and call, yet they continue to sneer and abuse you. I wonder – how does it feel to be put on a pedestal but also treated as a door mat?" he snapped. "Since setting foot in Skyrim again, you've become weak. What did that man say to you in Riften? Oh, that's right – you're an Imperial Bastard. He should have been slain on the spot!"

"He was a man in mourning for his daughter! What would killing him have proved? Absolutely nothing!" it was her turn to be defensive; tensions were high enough and she felt she was being backed into a corner.

"It would show you are not to be trifled with! Had I known this is what you were before we left, I wouldn't have bothered following!"

"Showing restraint and offering compassion is not a weakness. Perhaps it appears that way to you as you saw fit to rule an entire island through fear and manipulation but I would rather take the high road!" she yelled. "Besides, if it wasn't for me and my 'weakness' you'd be dead, or did you forget who got you out of that hellscape?"

Mirrak bristled but did not yell.

"Careful Dragonborn. You tout yourself as the hero, but you were never meant to be the savior of me or Tamriel. You're a means to an end; a disposable tool for the daedra and the gods - as are all men and mer. Our escape from Apocrypha was allowed – not by Mora, but Akatosh. We have an obligation to fulfill."

"Oh you mean the same Akatosh you shit all over when you realized you could eat dragon souls?" she snarled jabbing him in the chest "You're nothing more than an overly ambitious fossil with a penchant for exploiting people - so don't you dare lecture me on human nature."

He swatted her hand down "Your paltry insults are as annoying as they are tiring. You seem to forget I did not need you when you arrived in Solstheim and I don't need you now. If I appear to be lecturing you, it is because you dismiss the blatant contempt of those around you when it should be addressed. Your obliviousness has cost me before and I refuse to let it continue."

"It has not! What are you even talking about?"

"When you interfered with my plans of escape, you played right into Mora's trap and it took both of us to get out of it. We've been over this and I am bored of this conversation. We're going home."

Aleaksi scoffed but quickly deflated. He was right damn him – she did need his help. Before she was dragged to Solstheim, things had been a bit bleak.

A/N: Finally got around to cleaning up these chapters. 1 - 3 are done for right now; 4 - 6 will happen later then just maybe I'll push out a chapter 7.