I don't own the Elder Scrolls series; I only hope that some enjoyment is found from this story.

1

Of Snow and Pine

Grey eyes peered upon the drenched page before them. The words were blurred, running together. They closed in annoyance and a sigh came from their owner. All those years of world-building for their book ruined, by an ass of an older brother.

"It could be worse, Morgan," An elderly voice informed them.

"Oh, it's only six years of proper world-building," They sneered in a sarcastic tone, the voice feminine and soft, "So many years of work down the fucking drain."

The owner of the voice, and grey eyes, turned out to be a woman in her early twenties with shaggy mahogany brown hair that seemed to always be in her face. Her features were what one could call regal, high cheeks bones, and a straight nose. Yet, paired with small lips that were just a touch too thin. Her eyes were oval, and above them were thick eyebrows.

"Morgan." The voice warned as an elderly man walked up towards the kneeling woman.

"I'm just going to go clean out the attic," Morgan cut the old man off, "Let me think for a while, dad."

With those words she tossed the paper back onto the ground, it let out a very satisfying wet smack upon hitting the stones that made up the garden pathway, and briskly walked up towards the old home. It had been in their family for years, and there was no telling what was in that attic. Her grandfather used to tell tales of bandits and assassins in their family, but she knew better than to believe most of what he told her. He had been far into his nineties by the time she was starting her last years of high school. A nasty case of pneumonia had taken him the first week she had started university for a fine arts degree, drawing as her focus.

That's when she had started her book, six years since she was seventeen- and trying to figure out what she wanted to do-, she took inspiration from his stories and crafted a world around them. A side character who rose from a dark past to help the hero find his destiny, it was something she had run with. She had the side character all figured out, someone that wasn't really known within the world who found themselves on such a quest, but she didn't really have the hero figured out. She was in a bind with trying to figure out what kind of hero she wanted for the role. All the others in her world had one, but him. With what her brother had done, she doubted that she'd ever figure out what she wanted.

She doubted that she would remember half of her lore, which was why she had written it down.

She didn't have a laptop until she was in her second quarter of university so that was the only alternative. All she knew was that she had a complaint to the company that had made the pens she was fond of. Their ink was not waterproof.

She shook herself from such thoughts and looked at the door that led to the attic stairs. It may have been her task to clean and catalog the attic, but something about going up there was causing her to pause. Her anger was still there, but so was slight fear and caution. She was being silly, she could only guess that her fear came from her dislike of the dark, a childish fear that had turned into a phobia as she grew. She took a deep breath and quickly opened the attic door.

There, she knew she had nothing to be afraid of as she stared at the old wooden stairs. She walked through the door and started up them. They loudly creaked under her weight, she wasn't the lightest of people her love of sweets had seen to that, and she kept a hand on the wall as she tried to find the light switch. Her fingers brushed against cold metal and she smiled as she flipped the switch.

A small incandescence bulb flickered to life, the filament inside of it beginning to heat up. It hung from the ceiling by a length of wire and it had a pull string attached to it, but recent renovations had allowed the use of the light switch. She sighed and rolled her shoulders, she had work to do.

There was a frown on her face the entire time she pushed around boxes and tried to make a system so that she could go through them faster. Within seconds she was covered in dust and sweat, her hair clinging to her face. She paused in her actions of moving boxes; she was so sure that there was a small window somewhere in the attic. She would have to open it to help push some of the air through.

She elbowed her way through box after box until she found the furthest wall from where she had been. It was easy from there, walk around the perimeter of the wall and keep an eye above the boxes and plastic-covered furniture. The window had a ladder next to it and that was what she was looking for. She saw the rust-covered ladder and pulled the sleeves of her sweater down to cover her hands before touching it and putting it against the wall below the window.

It creaked just as much as the stairs if not more as she climbed up it with a worried expression on her face. She reached the window and looked for a way to open it. She pushed the shutters away from the glass, wincing when the wood decided to fall to the floor, and pushed the window out. She let out a small breath of relief as a cold breeze brushed against her face. It was the middle of winter and the weather had decided that the area that the lived-in needed rain, not snow.

She went down the ladder and went back to her job of cleaning up the attic. She pulled her sweater off and started with the first box. She sorted through papers -some so faded that she couldn't tell what had been written on it at one point-, photographs, and books. There were so many books, enough that her family could have their own private library and never have to leave the house. From the Hunchback of Notre Dame to an alchemist book written by one of their ancestors, all the books were legible and easily read.

She was still holding the alchemist book; she had always wondered what had caused such a large group of people to believe in such a thing. She tapped a finger on the back of the leather-bound book and placed it next to her sweater, she was going to take that down with her and any other items that she could use. She was hoping to find an old bag that she could use, her art bag had a rip on the bottom and she didn't know how to sew so a substitute needed to be found and she didn't really have the money to purchase one of nice quality.

She made a face when she opened another box and found what she was hoping to find, along with a set of journals that had nothing written in them. She was skeptical of such a thing happening, her luck was infamous for being horrible. It was like she was a D&D character that was created to be highly charismatic, and yet highly unlucky. Her luck skill had to be set at one, she was so sure of it.

"Right, what's the catch?" She asked the items in the box, feeling a bit silly as she did.

A loud thump caught her attention and she paled when the light above her flickered before burning out. She was plunged into the dark, the light from the window only illuminating a small circle on the attic floor, and she crawled towards the stairs to check on something. She clicked her tongue in annoyance, the door had been slammed shut. She was betting that it had been her brother, she was going to get him back for all the shit he put her through.

She made a face and decided to move the boxes and go back to work, her father would come and retrieve her for supper and notice that the door was shut. She knew better than to go down those stairs in the dark, they were unreliable, and going down could kill her. Out of all the things she could have done, putting the book and journals into the bag and then putting it on her back was probably not the strangest -that would have to go to the one time in choir where she had randomly let out a screech, that was her strangest moment and one that was completely worth the bad grade for that one performance- but it was a bit odd for her to do. It wasn't like she was going to go anywhere any time soon.

The next box she went through was normal, old toys, and other baby items from when she was that age. She should have guessed that, seeing as her name was on the side of it. She dug around in it until she came across a picture of her mother and father together, holding her hands as they stood outside of her elementary school. A small smile appeared on her face and she grabbed one of the journals, the leather was a dark red and the pages a light yellow due to age, and slipped the photo inside of it for safekeeping. She didn't have many pictures of her mother, cancer had gotten to her when she was six, and her brother had a different mother.

She never had the heart to call him her half-brother.

She looked at the next box she went to sort, it belonged to him the name Adam written on it was enough for her, and she pushed it to the side. She went through three more boxes, finding another photograph of her mother and father and slipping it inside the journal. She paused at a box that had her mother's name on it.

Lilian.

She didn't know if she had the right to even open it. Her fingers hesitated above the lips of the box as she stared at it. She battled with herself for a few minutes before gently opening it. Tears sprung to her eyes the moment she breathed in the scent of her mother's perfume. She pushed through them and moved things around to see if there was a memento of her mother she could take out. She picked up an old jewelry box and opened it.

A small dragon made from silver with blue topaz eyes hung from a silver chain. Her lips parted slightly before she smiled. Blue topaz was a birthstone for December, which was the month she had been born in. The twenty-fifth, a Christmas present for her parents. That was what her father liked to say. Adam, on the other hand, liked to say she was a curse. She was about to put the necklace back when she noted a piece of paper folded into a small square. She grabbed it and carefully unfolded it.

Morgan,

I suppose you're reading this because I couldn't give this to you in person, but that's all right. I'm sad to say that I never got the right to see you grow up, I know that you must be a beautiful young woman. Just know, that I am so proud of you and what you accomplish. This small pendant was custom made for you by your grandfather, my father not your father's father, as a wedding present for you. I have a feeling that it would suffice as a late graduation present.

I want you to promise me that you'll never stop writing and that one day, you'll publish your works.

With all my love,

Your Mother.

That last bit confused her; she hadn't started writing until a few years ago. How could her mother have known? Then again, her father said she had been a very strange woman, perhaps she had been guessing? It was hard to tell. She shook her head and put the jewelry box back into the cardboard box and clasped the pendant around her neck, the topaz's glinting in what tiny light she had. She sat there for a few seconds with a sad smile on her face before going back to her work at hand.

Within an hour she was wishing she had brought her phone so she could have called her father to let her out. She had never been a big fan of the silence that surrounded their home, she liked having some white noise so she didn't start to hear things and get paranoid, and it was starting to become stifling in the attic. A clap of thunder echoed from outside and she let out a chuckle. At least she'd have some sound, now for her last box before she began to bang on the floor to get some attention.

She opened it and frowned. Inside was a single book, it was purple and had gold leaf lettering on it. The Book of Sheogorath? It sounded like a bad porn name. She raised a brow at the fact that it was the lightest book she had ever lifted, yet it had the most pages. She knew that wasn't how gravity worked, it wasn't logical.

"What the fuck?" She muttered as she lifted the cover.

She let out a yelp as something hit her in the face. It was a cloud of…pink dust? She blinked her eyes and wiped at her face, yes it was indeed pink dust. She closed her eyes as another cloud, this one purple of all things, hit her. She could hear the faint sound of bagpipes and her face became confused. She was contemplating closing the book and never thinking about it again when something caught her attention.

"Oh, good," A bored voice said, and she made a face at the tone, "Have a nice trip."

She didn't even get to ask what the voice meant by that when the next thing she realized was her face in a snowbank. She wasn't even holding the book anymore. She looked around in confusion before giving a violent shiver, it was so cold wherever she was. She had gathered that she was in the wilderness due to the large pines that surrounded her and the bushes, but she didn't know how she could end up like this.

Did some god somewhere roll a D-20 and end up with a 1 for her luck roll? She had a feeling that was the case. She sneezed and let out a loud groan. She could not afford to get sick.

"Oh no," A loud voice said in her head and she clutched at it, "You are several years too early."

"Early?" She asked out loud, "How can I be early if I don't know where the hell I am?"

"I'm just going to have to fix that," The voice continued as though it couldn't hear her, "Don't worry about a thing, you'll be set free soon…I hope."

"You what?" She grumbled.

Something bashed her outside of the head and she fell to the ground in a heap. Blood was beginning to flow from a cut and began to color the snow red. She barely reacted when her right ankle was grabbed, and she was dragged towards a cave. She brought a hand up and tried to grab at something, anything that would act as a weapon. A rough yank sent her flying into the cave and she landed with a grunt.

She was dragged once again, only this time into a cage. She glared at her captor, a strange man wearing weird red and black armor. His eyes glowed a fierce orange with red pupils and she could see fangs whenever he opened his mouth. He couldn't be human, at least not the same kind of human she was. He was ranting to himself and she brought a hand up to her head to gently see how bad the cut on her head was, she had to listen to the man the entire time.

"Oh, a nasty Nord decided to fall into my trap," The man said to himself, his voice high pitched and nasally, "Or perhaps an Imperial, then for an Imperial the skin is fairer than usual."

Nord? Imperial? She didn't know what the man was talking about, but she felt as though she had heard those terms before. She thought about it for a few seconds as he lowered his tone to a mutter that she couldn't hear. Weren't those terms something she heard from Adam at one point when he mocked her book? She couldn't remember, it was a bit annoying, but it was something she would have to let go for now.

"So, what are you?" The man asked her.

"Very annoyed." She said before she could stop herself.

"An imperial, I would know that accent anywhere," The man said as he nodded to himself, "What's one like you doing so far up here?"

"I decided to sunbathe up here," She answered with a monotone as she clenched her hands into fists to stop herself from trembling as her predicament finally set in, "I heard the weather is lovely this time of year."

She hissed when something smacked into her face.

"That's enough out of you, stay quiet!" The man barked at her.

She sent him a glare and brought her knees up to her chest to create some shield in front of her heart. She could easily throw her arms up to protect her neck and head, but the chest was a bigger target, and she felt the man could easily hit it. She wasn't going to make it easy for him. The man was crazy, that much she could tell, and there was no telling what he was going to do. He kept muttering to himself, something that was starting to cause her extreme discomfort and had moved to a small wooden chair and desk to sit down.

She felt as though she had just watched a sim perform an action. It had been unnatural, and she didn't know of anyone who acted like that. She made a face as he stared at a wall, the wall was covered in moss so she guessed that it could be interesting to focus on while thinking, and continued to mutter to himself. She brought a hand up to her face scratched at her cheek. She looked at her finger and noted that the colorful dust wasn't on her anymore.

It was the small things in life, now if only she wasn't trapped with a madman.

She had fallen asleep at some point when she woke it was to someone pushing a small bowl into her cage. His dark eyes were glazed over, and his blonde hair was filthy and hung in clumps above his shoulders. She didn't go near the small bowl until he backed up a bit, she knew better than to get close to him. She picked up the small bowl, it was wooden like the desk and chair and peered inside of it. It was a strange stew of sorts; she didn't know if it was safe to eat. Her eyes flickered towards the man and she contemplated it. If he had wanted to kill her, he would've already. She was a big target, not one that could easily run away.

She was a bit reluctant to eat with her hands, but her growling stomach was yelling at her to eat something. She didn't know when she was going to be fed again. She slowly ate the stew and put the bowl near the door of her cage. It was collected by the man and she brought her knees up to her chest once again. She was not having the best time.

Her head hurt, she was tired, and all she could smell was cheese. She didn't even know why that last one was a thing, but it was much to her annoyance. Why cheese? She had so many questions, yet there was no one to answer them. She wasn't about to ask her kidnapper, he had already proved that he would hit her if she annoyed him, and the other man was more like a zombie to be of any help.

She knew that she was in a bind. She couldn't escape herself; she didn't have the strength to take down a full-grown man. Picking up a heavy sculpture was something she could do, but hitting someone with the right amount of strength to knock them unconscious? She was out of luck on that one. She also didn't know the area and would easily die in the heavy snow.

She could feel a cold breeze coming from the mouth of the cave and she shivered. Her sweater was back in the attic and her t-shirt, even though it was her favorite one with the Japanese katakana for Coca-Cola, wasn't thick enough for the winter. Her jeans were barely thick enough for fall, walking in what could possibly be knee-deep snow wasn't the best idea. If she knew that there was an area where it warmed up, then she would bide her time and then try to escape. She didn't.

She simply curled herself into a ball to try and stay warm. She needed to survive to see the outside of the cave again. She needed to figure out how she ended up outside of her attic in the snow, surrounded by trees that didn't grow in her area. Her home wasn't anywhere near a pine forest, it stood outside of an oak forest. She buried her face in her knees and closed her eyes, she could only imagine what her father was going through.

She didn't need to imagine what Adam was doing, he was most likely holding a party. He would be glad to be rid of her; not like she hadn't left for lengthy periods before. Her father would be sad, but eventually, his life would go back to normal. That was the kind of man he was. She knew it had to do with being from an older generation, but she wondered if that was why she didn't react to things in a normal way.

She was aware that she was being too calm for what was going on, but having a panic attack was the worst thing she could possibly do. If she made the man angry she could die, if she tried to escape she could die, and if she tried to charm her way out of the cave she could die. She was stuck in a situation where the best thing she could do was play along and hope that someone came by that would help her.

She wondered what she did to piss off god. At this point, she was starting to think it was the fact that she even existed. She frowned at that thought and messed with the small dragon around her neck. That was a depressing thought, no wonder people said she was a downer. She wasn't pessimistic, she was realistic.

She could just hold onto that lie for as long as she could and pray to whatever deity could hear her to help her be saved, or even escape. She would worship Satan himself if he got her out of this predicament. She would also name her firstborn after him, it was the right thing to do. She would to that for any deity that helped her. She just hoped that help would come soon.

The man scared her more than she liked to admit.