A/N: Just a quick warning. There'll be a lot of dying in this chapter, one being a minor. So, I'm rating this chapter as M, just as a precaution. Enjoy reading! :D

Part Three

Chapter Sixteen

Crisis At The Ice Mountain

The pool in the Ice Mountain was particularly warm that day when Dathlue skipped through the tunnels towards it. Her curly locks of silver bounced with the snowdrops in her hair. There was a bright, happy smile set upon her face and she slipped off her shoes and dipped her feet into the water.

She splashed and giggled to herself, playfully twirling the stem of a flower between her fingers. There was no one else in the cavern - as it was still early in the morning. The other children would be out to play later - they had chores to do.

"Good morning," said a cold, serious voice beside her. She looked up and met the eyes of a Tamrielian - the old Breton. Her silvery blond hair was tied back in a loose ponytail, she wore the simple, white robes of the Snow Elves and she carried a sword with a blue hilt at her waist.

Dathlue was greeted in the Tamrielian language and so, she answered in the Tamrielian language. "Hello," she whispered. Father had told her to be wary of the southern folk - be wary but polite.

"What's your name? I'm Delphine." The old woman sat next to her on the pool's rim. She lowered her hand into the water and swirled it around.

"Dathlue."

"Are you Katyr's daughter?"

"Yes," the young child replied, not meeting Delphine's eyes. There was something bad in them.

"You know, I'm a grandmaster too."

She glimpsed up and saw the smile on the Breton's face. Her eyes didn't show the smile though. "Really?"

"Yes, I lead a group called the Blades. We're dragon hunters..." It seemed Dathlue wasn't interesting in dragons. She most likely didn't know what a dragon was. "Your father... He wanted you to show me...it."

It? The young Snow Elf's eyebrows rose with curiosity. "He did?"

"Yes, he did. He said he was too busy to show me himself, but then he said you are big enough to show me."

Dathlue's face beamed with delight. Father said that? He trusted her to escort Delphine to it! "Ok! I'll take you there!" She grabbed the Breton's hand and yanked her into one of the tunnels. She knew the way well, she'd come this way thousand of times with Father and she wasn't afraid anymore.

First right, second left. Fourth left, and straight down the tunnel.

They reached the big, black stone door and Dathlue placed her hand on it. She carried Father's blood, and with that, the door lowered into the ground. She stepped inside, looking around for Baelon who didn't seem to be around.

"By the Nine," Delphine breathed as she followed the child inside. The army of ice struck her with awe and Dathlue smiled proudly to herself.

"Seven thousand nine hundred and thirty soldiers."

"Soldiers?" She looked down at her, shocked as though the awe wasn't enough to take in.

"Yes, it's Queen Aranel's army."

"By the Nine..." she repeated. The child showed little to no fear, no awe like - like she's been here many times before.

"Dathlue, what is the army for?"

That proud smile still remained on the child's face. "The Queen wants an empire like the one in Tamriel."

An empire?! This was far worse than she thought. "What about the treaty? Will she not abide to it?" She turned quickly as the black door behind her closed shut. Katyr stood there with two other Snow Elves - all three armed to the teeth in Falmer armour.

The Grandmaster's eyes were shooting daggers at the Breton. "My daughter, human? Even for your kind, using a child is - what's that word? - inhuman."

She grabbed Dathlue by the collar of her dress and pulled her closer, unsheathing her Blade's sword and hovering it by the Snow Elf's throat. "Desperate times call for desperate actions. Particularly when your Queen wishes to invade Tamriel."

"No, my Queen doesn't wish to invade Tamriel. This army will and with your Dragonborn commanding it, we will take back the land that once was ours!"

She would have more Elves bring the Empire to its knees! She lost to many friends and people she cared about to the Altmer. She closed, and screamed, "No!", and jerked her arm with the sword in her hand.

With a clean swipe, Delphine sliced open Dathlue's throat. The child fell to her knees, coughing and choking. She brought her small hands up to the cut, feeling the warm blood spill out, and looked at her crimson hands.

"Father...?" she choked, more blood gurgling in her mouth. She fell into his arms, clinging onto life.

"Father... I am...sorry," she said, tears flowing down her soft cheeks and mixing with her blood. Katyr held her bloodied hand in his.

"No, flower. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have showed you the army. You're too young to understand. I..." A cry escaped from his lips. His daughter, his little girl, his flower was dying.

She continued to choke and cough as she placed her hand on his cheek, her young eyes saying farewell. Her body went limp in his arms and her arm dropped, leaving a blood print of her hand. With trembling fingers, he closed her eyes and kissed her forehead. He noticed she was holding something in the hand he held. A snowdrop. Her favourite flower. Katyr made a noise between a cry and a scream.

"Flower... Flower..." he whimpered, gripping tightly onto the soft cloth of her dress. His shoulders shuddered and shook as he wept.

Delphine gazed down at her sword, still wet with the child's blood. What have I done? She could have started a war, she could have doomed all those back home in Tamriel. She felt a pain build up in her chest, a pain of grief and regret. She breathed in sharply, dropped her sword and watched as Dathlue's blood spread down her fingers.

Then she felt a harsher, physical pain in her stomach. She gasped as Katyr plunged his blade further into her until it reached its hilt. Their eyes met, his full of revenge and sorrow. She didn't fight back or stab him. She sank to the floor, pulled out his dagger, yelping slightly, and returned it to him.

"Baelon, send word to the Queen. The time to strike Tamriel is now."

Katyr wiped his dagger clean off the Breton's robes, sheathed it and picked up the body of his daughter. What was he going to tell his wife?

The flat bread, smothered in melted cheese was delicious! Arí ate it savagely, down to the very last crumb. The great hall was quiet, only Aranel, Arí, Vilkas and Gelebor ate their breakfast there as it was still fairly early in the morning. The odd servant walked through the hall, carrying more drink and food or delivering a message to Her Majesty as she ate on her dais.

Tiawyn left twenty minutes before hand, eating a slice of toasted bread and then rushing off to learn more secrets of the Falmer magic in the library. Karliah was gone by the time they arrived, and Hadvar and Eorlund were still asleep.

The Dragonborn longed another two as Nazir sat beside him, bearing a plate of Potage Le Magnifique. He shared a look with Arí and the two men bellowed with laughter. Across from them, Vilkas raised an eyebrow.

"I take it this is a personal joke," he mumbled, downing some ale.

"You have no idea," Arí replied. Nazir dropped his head onto the table, trying not to laugh. Vilkas shook his head, scooped up his bowl of vension stew and walked away from them, sitting at another table with Gelebor. The Snow Elf didn't look at him but his eyes were staring past his shoulders.

"What?" the Companion asked, turned in his seat and followed his gaze towards the dais. A smirk formed on his face. "Queen Aranel is looking well today, ain't she, Gelebor?"

He jumped out of his daze. "Sorry?"

Vilkas continued to smirk. "Queen Aranel?"

"What about her?" he replied, now very interested in the leftover food on his plate.

"You befriended her, didn't you?" the Nord said, winking.

"Yes, I successfully did."

"A little bit more than successfully."

Gelebor dropped his hands down onto the table with a small bang. "What are you talking about, Vilkas?"

He leaned close so no one could here his next few words. "You fancy her, don't you?"

"Fancy her? What in Auri-El's name are talking about?!"

"You like her! Admit it, Gel, you haven't taken your eyes off her since you came for breakfast."

The Elf straightened in his chair, trying not to glimpse at said queen. "Of course not! I'm merely...admiring her...crown."

"Clearly more than her crown - Agh!" he yelled as Gelebor kicked him beneath the table.

"Fine, I've taken...a liking to Queen Aranel but yesterday...she was different."

Vilkas, rubbing his shin, gave him a questionable look. "Different how?"

"She asked me about my life in the Chantry, how I protected it from the Betrayed. Aranel - she smiled...at me."

"Your heart leaped for joy then - Ow! That was my hand, Gel!"

"My sincere apologies. No, I've seen Aranel smile at me hundred of times before but yesterday, her smile...was different. As though, it belonged to someone else."

It belonged to you, I say, Vilkas though mentally. "Are you saying that wasn't Aranel?"

Gelebor shrugged. "Maybe - I don't know. It's a bizarre thought."

"What about Lytria then-"

A spike of ice flew through the great hall and smashed into one of the giant vase of flowers, shattering it. Another one followed it, striking home in one of Aranel's servant's chest. The Queen screamed and covered her face as the ice exploded.

In a flash, Vilkas was on his feet, gripping tightly onto Wuuthrad, and sprinted to Aranel's side. "Are you alright, Your Majesty?" She lowered her hands from her face and stared at them, her skin cut from the shards.

"Nothing serious, Vilkas. Where's Lytria?"

Gelebor stood at the bottom of the dais. "Get her away from here, Vilkas!"

Arí and Nazir, seeing the ice spike fly past them, stood ready in front of the doors with their swords unsheathed and ready for what was to watched as Karliah burst into the hall from the main doors, cladded in her Nightingale armour. Her mask was torn to shreds and her hood and cloak ripped. She yelled as she drew an arrow on her bow and let it loose, shooting a Redguard, covered in fur and leather armour, between his dark eyes as he came running after her.

"What in Oblivion is going on?!" Arí demanded, crouching down to examine the fallen Redguard. His gear was wet and there were small crystals of ice still clinging onto the fur.

"The island...is under attack," Karliah began replying, panting for her breath. "I was down at the docks when they came out of the caves by there. They're taking hostages, killing anyone who fights back or who denies going with them...and the Tamrielians here. Arí, they heading towards the palace. I ran when I-"

A Dunmer mage ran into the great hall, throwing an Ice Spike at Karliah, catching her in her right arm. She dropped her bow and cried out in pain. Nazir charged forward, twirling his scimitars with his wrists and plunged them into the mage's chest. He gasped with a hoarse voice and fell from the curved blades, staining the steel with his scarlet blood.

He and Arí bolted the doors shut as Gelebor darted to Karliah, examining her graze. The ice cut right through her armour and into her skin to the bone. Tears had welled up in her indigo eyes. Gelebor hovered his hand over it and summoned his magic to heal it. A soft, golden light glowed as her pain dulled away. He stopped before the cut was fully healed.

"I need all my Magicka to fight, Karliah," he said to her confused look. "Don't worry, I'll finish healing it later." She nodded. He ripped some cloth from the hem of his tunic and wrapped it around it. She grabbed her bow and he helped her up.

"Where's Tiawyn?"

"With the mages in the library," Arí answered. "We have to find Hadvar, Eorlund and Delphine."

The four joined Vilkas and Aranel at the dais. The queen's hands shook from the shock.

"Lytria? Have you seen my sister?" she asked, trying to hide the fear in her voice.

"I don't know, Your Majesty. She's probably with Lord Faeron," Nazir said hastily.

"Lord Faeron? I don't understand..."

"We believe he's the one trying to usurp your throne...and the invaders, they're Tamrielians and they're killing Tamrielians. Your Majesty, I think they may under his...influence," Arí explained.

She frowned. "Under his influence?"

"When I faced Gelebor's brother, he controlled the Betrayed. I don't know whether it was his vampiric powers or some lost ancient Snow Elf magic but I've a feeling Faeron can do the same."

Aranel closed her eyes, struggling to let out the truth. "You're wrong. The Tamrielians are not invaders, they're...my army."

Everyone gaped at her. She raised her hands. "Let me explain. My father, he feared for the safety of his people - my people. When Tamrielians found our island they were always executed and he changed that. We Snow Elves, what we are now - we are not warriors. Yes, I have a network of spies but no army of Snow Elves. Centuries ago, our mages found forgotten documents on magic how to fully freeze and revive living creatures. They also contained how to put those creature under one's influence - as you had put it, Arí. My father captured Tamrielians and turned them into his army, an army of bandits, pirates and the occasional soldiers. They were to protect us if we were suddenly attacked or invaded. You have to understand, they are only to protect us."

They stood in an awkward silence until Karliah nodded. "I understand. Faeron is using Her Majesty's army to take over the throne. Who else has control over your army, Your Majesty?"

"Myself, Grandmaster Katyr and Ar - Lytria."

The Dunmer turned to her companions. "Now we know for sure Lytria is aiding Faeron."

Queen Aranel frowned. "Lytria? What does she have to do with this?"

"If Faeron takes the throne, she will be his queen, Your Majesty. It's a much higher position than she has now."

Vilkas stomped his boot, causing all of them to jump. "Well, I say we should get out of here before we are overrun by bandits and pirates," he said, with an amused smirk on his face.

"Aye, we'll head straight for our chamber - Hadvar and Eorlund should be there," Arí began, "Actually, Nazir and Vilkas, both of you head there." The two men nodded and headed to the side door into the tunnels. "Your Majesty, is there a safe place you can hide?"

"Yes, at the peak. Only the royal family know of it."

"Gelebor, take her there."

The knight-padalin saluted him by placing his fist to his heart and bowing his head. "Meet us there, Arí." He turned to Aranel and gestured her to lead the way. She gave Arí and Karliah a thankful look before leaving.

"Where are we going?" the Nightingale asked Arí as the silence in the hall deafened them.

"We're going to get Tiawyn and find where Delphine is."

The library was deserted, some books were scattered across the floor, several of the tall shelves were torn down and chairs and tables were stacked around a small corner like a fort. Karliah sighed deeply when she laid her indigo eyes on a dead Snow Elf woman, her neck twisted in an unnatural angle. If Aranel's army was killing any who resisted them and all the Tamrielians, gods only know were Tiawyn was.

"This is a disaster," Arí muttered, pulling a chair out of the fort and tossing away. Karliah stepped out of its path, pursing her lips as she was about to curse at him and wincing at the pain in her pain. Damn Aranel's army, she couldn't use her bow - just her dagger.

"She can take very good care of herself, Arí. I'm sure she's still alive-" She dived to the side as a upturned table slid across the floor.

"You think so?" He sounded so uncertain and she gave him a confident smile, "I know so." The Dragonborn smiled back before kicking the discarded furniture forward, finally making a path inside the makeshift fort.

If they were smart as they said they were, the Snow Elf mages would have gone with the army. Faeron wasn't stupid - he would tucked the Elves somewhere isolated in the mountain before assassinating Aranel.

Finding Tiawyn was easy. As they walked to the centre of the cornered off area, they heard a giggle from atop one of the shelves. The Wood Elf dropped to the floor, tumbling forward when she hit the ground.

"You've know idea how happy I am to see you!" she exclaimed as she flung her arms around both their neck. Karliah patted her back and gently pushed back to gaze at her face.

Her cheek was slightly swollen from a punch she took earlier, a faint tint of black below her eyes. The robe she usually wore was abandoned from the amount of rips and tears on it. She simply wore a light grey tunic and black leggings, tucked neatly inside her ankle-high boots. She wasn't even half as bad as Karliah.

"Are you okay?" the Dunmer asked, her fingers hovering over the bruise.

Tiawyn scoffed, "I'm fine. Nothing more than I could handle. They were...Tamrielians though and they took the mages away - I don't know where though. We made the fort when a messenger came running, calling for help. They came and...the mages told me to hide. They didn't put up much of a fight, she did though," she said, nodding towards the dead Snow Elf, "They left shortly before you came. You didn't see them?"

"We came from the great hall," Arí replied. "We have to find Delphine and get to the Queen's safe room at the peak."

"I saw Aranel in that cave with all the gems before I came here," Tiawyn informed them. They gave her a confused look which she returned.

"Aranel?"

"Yes, she greeted me in the cave and we spoke a little until I excused myself to leave. She seemed quite concerned over something."

"Aranel..." Arí began, "Was with us all morning in the great hall. Gelebor took her to the peak..."

"You are mistaken, Arí." It was the same majestic, soft voice that spoke so clearly whenever she addressed her people. They turned to the door where the Queen stood, wearing a loose tunic and breeches. In her hand, she held the sword she always carried at her waist, its silver and ebony metal stained with red blood.

Karliah, her eyes narrowed with puzzlement, spoke first. "But you...were having breakfast in the great hall. I saw you there myself."

Aranel shook her head. "No, that was Lytria. We often...change Positions. She takes my place as queen while I enjoy a few days of freedom. We occasionally did this as children - she would pretend to be me during my daily lessons while I played with the other children as her."

"So... She didn't unleash your army?" Arí concluded. She sighed and nodded. "I know she didn't. Despite the threat of the usurpation of my throne, my sister will remain loyal to me to the very end. If she didn't do it, only Katyr remains who has the power to but, like her, he is extremely loyal and won't be foolish enough to...after what happened to his daughter."

Everyone knew Dathlue and the three of them asked what had occurred.

Again, Aranel sighed. "Your friend, Delphine, she...killed the child when she encountered the army." She gasped and burst into tears. Tiawyn stepped forward, wrapping her arms around her and the Queen cried into her shoulder.

"By the Nine..." Arí breathed. Delphine did something like that? What would possess her to kill an innocent child?! "Do you know where she is?"

"Yes, Katyr told me she was left in the chamber where we keep the army. Come, I'll show you the way."

The air was colder than she could appreciate and the remaining ice was no help. With a shaking hand, she pressed it against her side, feeling the warm blood ooze through her fingers. If Katyr was meant to kill he could have done a better job. The pain was unbearable, in her wound and in her heart.

She killed a child.

Acted stupidly, foolishly. She didn't know what came over her to slice open Dathlue's throat. Was it the thought of war? War she tried to prevent but caused? Another war. What good would that do to Tamriel? The Dominion would take that opportunity to control the Empire and all would be lost. Humanity would be - no, will be reduced to nothing but slavery.

What has she done?!

"Delphine?" a warm, strong hand rested against her shoulder. She slowly opened her eyes and smiled.

"If I knew the Dragonborn would be by my side as I die, I would have worn my armour."

Arí chuckled, barely covering the sad, concerned look on his face. Standing behind him was Karliah, Tiawyn and Aranel.

She met the Snow Elf's eyes, seeing the anger in them. "I ask for your forgiveness. I don't know what I was thinking..." Aranel smiled, but the anger lingered.

"There is nothing I could've done but you are forgiven."

"I thought Katyr would have killed me instantly," Delphine commented.

"He's one that likes to see his enemies suffer."

"I'm an enemy, am I?" She looked back at Arí as the first tears spilled from his eyes. "Oh, don't cry. I had a good run. Fought in the Great War, killed a few dragons with you," He smiled at that, "And you helped me reform the Blades. Arí, without knowing it, both you and me, you gave me my life back. You gave me purpose in life. I thank you for recruiting me into your embassy and bringing me on one last adventure."

"I never recruited you, Delphine, you decided to recruit yourself," he said, chuckling at the memory. She laughed quietly too, but groaned at the pain in her side.

"Stay with me until I go," she pleaded while grabbing his arm. His smile widened. "Until you reach Sovengard."

She scoffed at him. "I'm a Breton, Arí, not a Nord. But the idea is...soothing." He leaned forward and kissed her forehead.

They waited in silence, Tiawyn weeping softly into Karliah's shoulder. The anger in Aranel's eased away to sympathy - the Breton truly regretted murdering Dathlue. Arí kept his promise, singing sweet songs and holding her close to him. If it wasn't for her and Esbern, he would never have defeated Alduin, saved Nirn from the World-Eater's fury...and he thanked everyday to the Divines that she was the one who took Jurgen Windcaller's horn, leading him to her.

"Thank you, Arí, for giving me friends and a new family. Even the enemies along the way," Delphine said, glimpsing up at Aranel.

"You're welcome, you're always so very welcome," he replied, lifting her chin up to look at her face. But she was gone. Karliah gasped, Tiawyn broke down with more tears and crying, and Aranel bowed her head.

Arí stood, blinking back his own tears. "Here, she may have been a villain but in Tamriel, she will always be a hero." He turned his back on them and walked away. Aranel knelt forward and summoned her Magicka deep within her. With a wave of her hands, she froze Delphine's body in a clear block of ice and healed the wound Katyr inflicted in the process. She straightened onto her feet, meeting Karliah's eyes.

"Thank you," she whispered, patting the still crying Tiawyn on the back with her good hand.

"Now," Aranel said rather loudly, making the other two women jump, "I want to know how my army was unleashed."

"I thought you might know," Arí answered.

"I don't. Katyr would have come straight to me first and Lytria was in the great hall."

The Queen turned to Tiawyn when she mumbled something. "What?"

"Faeron."

She narrowed her eyes at the Bosmer. "Faeron? You think Faeron has something to do with this? Yes, he threatened your lives at the College but why would he try to usurp my throne? He's my advisor and most trusted friend."

Karliah spoke then. "Anyone can be two-faced, Aranel. I, out of all people, should know that and I'm telling you now: suspect everyone...including your sister."

A glare was shot at her. "What does Lytria has to do with this?"

"She's to be married Faeron, isn't she? Kill you, she becomes queen and Faeron king. It's hard to see how she isn't involved in this." Karliah shrugged. Aranel considered this and pointed a finger at her.

"I hope you're wrong."

Gelebor stormed through the tunnels, following her directions. She was quiet behind him and whenever he looked back at her, a mask of uncertainty covered her face. She hadn't said a word since they left Arí, Karliah, Vilkas and Nazir in the great hall.

The silence between them was unbearable for him. The Aranel he knew wasn't this quiet, she was usually chatty particularly when she was nervous. He felt like he was right when he said to Vilkas earlier how he thought the smile she gave him belonged to someone else.

He stopped suddenly and took her hands. "Aranel..." he breathed, his stomach leaping into his mouth as he said her name.

"Don't call me that," she muttered, not raising her eyes to his face. They were staring down at her hands in his.

"What?" Why was she so...not like herself. "Aranel - Your Majesty, is...is everything alright?"

She sniffled. "I'm not Aranel, Gelebor. I'm Lytria." Her head lifted and he looked deep into her eyes. Slowly, he let go and dropped his hands to his side. In the soft glow of the candlelight he conjured, her white features standing out. She reached and pulled the wig from her head, revealing short, silver hair.

"Forgive me, Princess Lytria, I thought... My actions were very intimate... I-"

"Gelebor," she whined, bending forward and clutching her stomach. He placed his hand on her shoulder and dropped onto one knee.

"Lytria - Your Highness, are you ill?" he asked, his brow furrowed with concern. He watched as she brought her hand up, gazing at the blood on her fingers in shock.

"Gelebor," she whimpered, her voice quivering with fear, "I believe I'm miscarrying Faeron's child."

By far my longest chapter yet!

Welcome to Part Three of Rise of the Snow Elves! The final chapters are among us and the climax is drawing near.

Dathlue and Delphine are dead, I know. :'( I'm sorry but that's how things turned out to be. And Lytria? How did that turn out? Bit of a cliffhanger, eh? What else...? Oh yes, we're taking a break from the crew back at Sky Haven but we'll pick with them again later.

What did you think? Good? Bad? How about you tell me in a review? :D

Mise le meas

-Aeon