The presence of two Dragonborns had allowed the province to overcome so much in so little time. As one Dragonborn took care of a more than real vampire threat that would have thrown Tamriel into darkness, the other set off to Solstheim to battle with the first Dragonborn time had ever known. Both were successful, and through it all both became legend. When the two of them turned their eyes back toward Skyrim and the Civil War, they both knew that they could stop it with just but a word but instead they fought.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Sorerica, she who embodied all that a true daughter of Skyrim should be, joined and was completely embraced by the Stormcloak Army.

 

 

Niyleen, she that was neither loved nor hated, she that felt no lingering affections toward her Nord or Redguard history’s, joined up with the Imperial Army.

 

Niyleen: I… was Dragonborn?

 

 

The two Dragonborns were at the vanguard at every major battle and through their unyielding might neither was ever felled and time and time again battles would end in a stalemate. It seemed that the fighting would continue forever until both Dragonborns were one day sent to Whiterun to do negotiations with Jarl Balgruuf.

 

“Balgruuf,” Sorerica said impatiently. She was wearing her officer’s garb and had been waiting on the tardy Jarl for almost an hour. “You know what the Empire has done. How we were made to bend to their will and accept the White-Gold Concordat.”

 

 

“We weren’t given a chance to object,” Balgruuf said referencing himself and the other Jarls. “The Jarls weren't asked. We were told. And we had to like it."

 

 

“But did you really,” Sorerica said. “Or were you one of the fools blinded by the chests of gold they were given.”

 

“Dammit woman, it was never about the gold!”

 

 

“If I may interject,” Niyleen said. She herself was in her officer’s garb. “I know that the Empire may not have initially been wholly fair in their dealings with the Jarls, but had the province not known peace?”

 

 

“A fake peace that made us bow to the wills of elves,” Sorerica yelled. “You think the banning of Talos was because he wasn’t Divine? Of course he ascended! The elves know it too. But his worship was a unifying force for Skyrim. If they hadn’t banned his worship—”

 

 

“Ulfric would have still done what he did,” Niyleen said dryly. “Ulfric wants to be High-King, nothing more. ‘Skyrim is for the Nords?’ Is he really acting like other races weren’t here before? Or is he just trying to rally the radicals to join his selfish cause? And by the way, this ‘ascension’ of Tiber Septim? Never happened.”

 

 

“You lie,” Sorerica said, venom dripping off her words.

 

 

Niyleen shook her head. “One of my most trusted subordinates was there when he was alive. Tiber Septim may have been called the God of War because of his unmistakable military prowess, but he was nothing more than an obnoxious Nord that was talented enough to conquer all of Tamriel. The reason the Empire bans his worship is because he raped and pillaged many an elven city in times of peace to get them to submit to his will even though all he had to do was ask. Those were the actions of a cowardly mortal, not a god.”

 

 

“Sacrilege!”

 

“If only his worship was permitted or even respectable.”

 

The two Dragonborns stared each other down burning holes through each other with their gazes. When one of them made a move to attack, Balgruuf stood gaining their attention. “Ulfric gave me his axe, Tullius gives me his words, and they both send Dragonborns to deliver them. The accounts are almost similar, but one comes with a threat, the other a promise.”

 

 

“It is no threat, if only you accept,” Sorerica replied.

 

“As with all things, Lord, caution,” Proventus advised. “I urge us to wait and see.”

 

 

“Prey waits,” Irileth said scornfully. “It’s time to decide. It’s clear that both sides are deadly serious with their intent.”

 

“Indeed,” Balgruuf closed his eyes for a moment and said, “Proventus. Bring me my pen. And the good parchment.”

 

"Are we writing a letter, Lord," the Imperial asked.

 

Balgruuf nodded, "Yes, to General Tullius. I need to make a few things clear before I accept these Legionnaires of his."

 

 

Niyleen smiled brightly, “You made the correct choice Jarl Balgruuf. I can assure you.”

 

 

“I hope that I have,” the Jarl said solemnly. “You,” he said addressing Sorerica. “Take this.” He handed her his axe. “Deliver this axe to Ulfric Stormcloak.”

 

Sorerica frowned and sighed. “You’ve no idea what you’ve just done.” She snatched the axe and exited the Hall.

 

 

And so with Whiterun aligning with the Empire, the Imperial Army had an edge in the war. However, neither army was prepared for what was to occur next. Dragons.

 

Since the first sightings at Helgen and outside of Whiterun, the dragons had been scarce. However, with war now encompassing the province, the Dragons seemed to be out in full force. This was more than evident at the Battle of Whiterun where four Elder Dragons circled the city and tore through both armies like they were mere parchment. Sorerica and Niyleen were able to slay one dragon each, but in the process the Stormcloak Army had been able to back the Imperials back into Dragonsreach.

 

 

 

“We are routed,” Irileth said keeping herself between the Jarl and the Stormcloaks.

 

“Forget me and run,” Balgruuf said.

 

“I’d rather die,” Irileth said as she cut another Stormcloak down. A sudden roar cut through the hall and sent the Stormcloaks flying in all directions. “A… A Dragon? Here?”

 

 

“No one is going to be dying on my watch.”

 

“Dragonborn!” Balgruuf said raising to his feet.

 

“One of two,” Niyleen said as she closed the doors behind her and barricaded it. She approached them, knelt and bowed her head. “I apologize for my absence. I was handling a Dragon and thought the line would hold. It was careless of me.”

 

 

“Nonsense,” Irileth said. “If another of those foul beasts were still living, the city would be in far worse shape than it is. You did well. I would be happy to die by your side.”

 

 

Niyleen stood. “No need for the dramatics Dunmer,” she said sternly. But she then laughed. “But indeed. I as well.”

 

“I don’t mean to be rude,” Proventus said. “But unless we get a miracle, this is it my Lord and ladies.” That definitely soured the mood.

 

“A miracle…”

 

 

(Come child… I have that which you seek…)

 

“Did you all hear that,” Niyleen asked looking around.

 

“Hear what?” Balgruuf asked looking confused.

 

(Hurry… before all is lost.)

 

 

(There it is again!) Niyleen turned to them and said, “No matter what, hold until I return.” And then headed off. She couldn’t hear what they were about to ask, as at that moment the barricade was broken and Stormcloaks rushed the Hall again. But Niyleen didn’t stop. She headed to the kitchen down the steps, through a closet and she powered her way through a door covered in blood. Then she saw it. A blade made of ebony that seemed to be untouched for quite some time.

 

(Take it. It will know what to do.)

 

 

 

 

 

Niyleen hesitated. This blade was calling to her, but she felt something ominous about it, like something in her would change if she took it in hand.

 

”IRILETH!” Balgruuf’s voice said from above.

 

“Shit…” This time she didn’t wait. She took the blade from its pedestal and then ran back to join her allies. Allies… that had a strange ring to it…

 

 

* * *

 

“W-wait! What’s next,” Niyleen said like a child. “Did she win? What happened to Irileth? How did the battle end?”

 

“Another time, another time.”

 

“No! Tell me now!”

 

The Second glared at her probably trying to get her to back down, but Niyleen wouldn’t be moved by this. “I see… knowledge is indeed a weapon, but it both gift and curse.” She gave a resigning sigh and said, “The First went up the stairs and slaughtered the Stormcloaks, but in her haste felled three allies as well. Many who witnessed it called it accidental friendly-fire, but that was what the blade wanted people to believe as to cast a veil over its true intent. The Ebony Blade got stronger with each kill of an ally. It fed off of those deceits and it slowly corrupted Niyleen’s mind. They won the battle, but Niyleen lost so much more. The seed of insanity and bloodlust had been sowed and even though she soon discarded the blade, she would never be the same. As for Irileth, she suffered a wound across her chest. It was not deep, but it bled profusely. Since the bleeding was stopped relatively quickly, she only had to recuperate for three days before she could get back to training.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“That is all I will say. No more interruptions!”

 

 

Niyleen nodded. “So how does this end?”

 

The Dragon issue had escalated in the following weeks. At the end of the month a summit was called so a temporary peace could be made so the threat could be handled. Though all parties involved were not keen on the idea, they all recognized the dangers they faced and after a few rounds of shrew negotiations the ‘truce’ was formed. They sent the Dragonborns, once friends made enemies now involuntary accomplices, to deal with the menace. Their investigations sent them across the province and made them have to deal with even more forces that were once thought to be extinct, the Blades.
After much more reconnoitering and very careful planning, they knew their target and they knew their battlefield; Alduin and Sovengard. Theirs was a battle that lasted at least four days. The Dragonborns however were not recovered until a week after they ventured into the beyond.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

When news of their victory spread throughout the land, it seemed like peace could finally be obtained, and by the Dragonborns’ suggestion it finally could with one last battle.

 

(Are you sure about this? I can tell you how this all shall end if you like?)

 

“Shut up Mora,” Niyleen said as she waited to be presented. Hermaeus Mora, Hircine, Malacath, Meridia, Sheogorath, Nocturnal, Sanguine, Boethiah, Niyleen had already aided a multitude of Daedric Princes by this point and her soul, or what would be left of it would be split amongst them in the afterlife. But it mattered not. Everything she did was just. She even felt that her accidental dealings with Mephala were warranted. They called her their Champion, men called her Dragonborn, Sorerica called her Niyleen, but Niyleen had long since cast off those names. Only death seemed to follow where she went and the Halfing was glad to deliver it.

 

 

“… Introducing. Representing the Imperial Army,” the announcer said interrupting Niyleen’s thoughts. “Niyleen Flame-Child!”

 

Niyleen sucked her teeth. (Aeron… I go by Aeron Death-Bringer now…) But when she first told people this they laughed and said ‘Niyleen is Niyleen’. Like that was supposed to mean something. But she put up with it and walked out into the arena. She looked around and the seats were empty. Clearly an Illusion spell meant to allow the combatants to focus solely on each other, but they hadn’t bothered to dispel the crowd’s cheers and jeers as they filled up the arena just as Niyleen did.

 

 

 

 

She walked over to Sorerica who looked divine… in the literal sense. Clad in white, and equipped with her glowing sword, she seemed to have changed a lot over the last few weeks. “So a battle of Light versus Darkness?”

 

 

“I didn’t want to do this,” Sorerica said shrugging. Okay maybe she hadn’t changed that much. “But they said it would add a bit of flair to it all.”

 

 

“It makes me out to be the bad guy!” (But aren’t I?) True, but she still didn’t like it. It also made the Empire out to be the bad guys. Skewing the people’s views with visual representations? Good job whoever set this whole thing up. “So how do we do this? Are we to wait? Or—”

 

 

“The fight started ten seconds after you entered the arena.”

 

 

No need to tell her twice. Niyleen took to the air and the two Dragonborns clashed. As agreed upon, no magic, no shouts, this was to be a battle of whose might was the mightiest. Their battle was fast and hectic, causing those in attendance to sit on the edge of their seats for the finish. The fight was even, and they both knew that a single error would mean the other’s defeat.

 

However, Niyleen knew that was only going to be true in Sorerica’s case. Niyleen was blessed by eight Daedric Princes. She wielded both Dawnbreaker and Nightingale Blade, was dressed in her Dark Brotherhood’s garb and was quicker and more agile than Sorerica. Didn’t hurt that she could also turn this into a technical nine versus one. And so Niyleen played around with it. She allowed Sorerica leverage where normally she had none and to all watching it really seemed that the two Dragonborns were complete equals.

 

 

 

 

 

And then it happened. All at once the boons given to Niyleen by each Daedric Prince suddenly vanished. The Dawnbreaker was hot to the touch so she cast it aside, and the Nightingale Blade went dull so it was discarded as well. Sorerica soon had an actual advantage and she pressed it as hard as she could. Niyleen was taking all the Nord was giving and then some and she could do nothing about it. To onlookers it seemed like Niyleen had tried something slick and it had backfired hard, but Sorerica knew the truth. She flung Niyleen across the arena, discarded her sword and walked slowly over to her crumpled body.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“Two can play at that game,” Sorerica said as she took a mace, that seemingly appeared out of nowhere, into her hand. “I may not have wanted to, but I’ve had my dealings with Daedra myself.” She raised the mace over her head and said, “Well then Niyleen. Looks like the Stormcloaks are victorious this day.”

 

 

 

(Move! NOW!)

 

Niyleen’s body acted on its own and she quickly rolled out of the way and avoided Sorerica’s swing. Then she shouted her across the arena. But that was it. She was totally spent and she had violated the terms of battle. Niyleen was done, Niyleen had lost. “Who are you…” she said weakly pushing the thought of her defeat aside. She had heard the voices of nine different Daedric Princes in her lifetime, however, this one was completely foreign to her.

 

 

 

 

 

 

(Death-Bringer, the other Daedric Princes have forsaken you. I however, share your desire of change and destruction.)

 

Niyleen looked over toward Sorerica and saw that the Nord had already gotten to her feet and was slowly making her way over to finish the job. (This life isn’t big enough for the both of us, huh?) “Okay, I’m sold. What do I have to do Mehrunes Dagon?”

 

 

 

 

(Give me your soul…)

 

“In this life and the next? Been there, done that. I know where that path goes.” (They abandon me when I need them most.)

 

(No. If you want me to give you my boon, then abandon yourself Aeron. Abandon yourself to me and give me your soul now.)

 

Sorerica was fifteen paces away now. Do or die. “Fine. Whatever. Just help me.”

 

 

(Abandon yourself!)

 

The strength in Niyleen’s arms gave out. (I’ve already abandoned myself! My titles, my name, my identity, all of it. What do you want me to do? I’ve nothing else. I am nothing… is that what you want?) She could see Sorerica’s eyes, and she couldn’t see a trace of her friend there. Their relationship was never the same since the negotiations in Whiterun. Niyleen knew the truth about Tiber Septim would get to her, but she thought their relationship could be salvaged and lost on that gamble. She lost her friend, but she wouldn’t be lost to her. “I’m yours.” She closed her eyes ready to let what was to be, be.

 

 

(Stab her in the stomach and the pact will be complete.)

 

To submission or death those were the rules. Niyleen clenched her fist and found that something was in her right hand. Before she could look down, Sorerica was standing over her with her mace ready to end her life. Before she could move, Niyleen struck. Right in the stomach. It was quick, clean, and nonfatal.

 

 

 

 

(Why in the world did I listen to another Daedric Prince…) Niyleen closed her eyes and waited. She knew she was wide open for attack, and there was no way she could avoid the ensuing… attack?

 

(Open your eyes child. See what you have done.)

 

Niyleen opened her eyes…

 

 

* * *

 

“…and saw that—“ the Second looked around nervously. “Shit.”

 

 

“Shit? What? WHAT!?”

 

 

“I can’t have you die here,” the Second looked at her nervously. “Nega will tell you the rest at some point. I can’t be for certain when, but she’s never failed.”

 

 

Niyleen made to speak but suddenly the world around her warped. She felt disoriented, she felt sick, but most of all she felt clear. Opening her eyes, she laid there looking at the dank lair’s ceiling, just thinking. Now that she knew the truth, that this reality was false, she could understand why Ruby kept killing and getting herself killed. Nothing mattered. ‘There is an issue at hand that you must be aware of, do NOT fight Molag Bal’. (Where do we even begin? Was it too late? Am I already on the path to a bad end? I was raped, dominated by both father and Forsworn, but this is just how I am supposed to interpret events, it’s all been manufactured. Lies. But I felt it… I remember it… I…) Niyleen stopped thinking. It wasn’t going to take her anywhere, and there was a voice talking to her sister that was annoying familiar. (Who is that?)

 

 

 

 

Niyleen sat up and gasped. Ceolrianna’s face popped into her head. ’Carciel does not exist’. (But she’s here! She’s right here!) Felt like crying but stopped herself. If they asked her why what was she supposed to say? Oh, yeah sorry. Just found out that my sister is my actual twin or and you don’t exist Carciel. No, she’d keep these things secret. (You’re a pretty good liar Niyleen, just take it like a round two against Lucari. But instead of some random Nord girl that wanted to make a name on you, lie to protect the mindset of your sister and one of your only friends. No pressure.)

 

 

 

 

“Hey, what‘s going on?” Niyleen said, as she got off of that cold slab. She couldn’t imagine anything being worse than the beds in Markarth, but she was wrong. So terribly wrong. The two of them turned around and saw Niyleen standing there. Trying to relax the suddenly tense mood, Niyleen flashed a forced smile and both Carciel and Nyleine immediately fell to their knees and began to cry. “H-hey, I’m alive. Shouldn’t you two be all smiles?” But she knew they were just overwhelmed with joy. She knelt down and gave them each a hug. (I guess we can talk about what to do now another day.)