Four hours later, after the new couple had made their grand egress from the bridal ngot and Nyatt had publicly commanded his wife to fetch his clothes (much to the overwhelming approval of the meyge), and after the massive feast for which Aithne’s human stomach only lasted five of the twelve courses, a very animated Chyehye led Aithne through the crowd toward a table at the very back, saying only there was someone Aithne “would want to meet” – and although bursting with curiosity, Aithne fought against her desire to peek. Surprises were no fun if you weren’t surprised, after all.

 

“You made me a lot of coin tonight, so thank you,” Chyehye said as they walked.

 

“What? How so?”

 

“There was a bet whether you would be able to walk out of the bridal ngot without help. I had full confidence in you.”

 

Aithne laughed. “I admit, I am in some pain, but I am used to it.”

 

Chyehye tossed a sideways glance. “Dare I ask how that is possible?”

 

Aithne winked and kept her tone light, a challenge when her words so loosely covered the yawning pit of emotions embedded in her response. “My husband is not the first orc I have slept with.”

 

“That…explains much yet raises so many other questions. But I am not so rude as to pry. Here is who I wanted you to meet.”

 

They had arrived at the last table, tucked into a corner of the kwåim. Aithne froze in place when she recognized the lone figure sitting at it.

 

“Sloan! Or maybe Trendil? Although I don’t see any swords, so…”

 

Aithne’s pseudo-sister smiled as she rose and stepped forward in that graceful way of hers. “You were spot on the first time. You are a long way away from the college – I could not have been more surprised when I saw who stepped out of that hut.” Sloan’s silver eyes met Aithne’s. “That eye suits you. Although I see yours have turned silver as well. Can you see in the dark, by chance?”

 

Aithne blinked. “No, I…”

 

“So you two do know each other!” Chyehye laughed. “I guessed as much. Twin sisters, I take it?”

 

Aithne said, “Not exactly,” at the same time Sloan responded, “That is yet to be determined. Also, we are quadruplets, at least. Or so we hear.” Sloan pulled Aithne into a hug. “You cannot imagine – well, actually, you likely can very well imagine how glad I am that you recognize me. I was afraid I was the only one who remembered.”
Aithne laughed as she returned the embrace. “I feel the same! Things are so similar but so different at the same time.”

 

“So very different.” Sloan stepped back and gestured at the table, then sat back down in her chair as she added, “But the most important thing is the same. I don’ t know if you have heard, but they are back.”

 

“They?” Aithne blinked as she took the chair across from Sloan. “Who…oh! It happened?”

 

“It appears so. I have it on good authority…” Sloan paused and looked around. “He’s around here somewhere. I met one of the Greybeards. He told me they have returned.”

 

“One of the what?”

 

“Greybeards?” Chyehye sounded skeptical as she sat on the end chair between the two. “Is that what that old man claims to be? The Greybeards never leave their mountain.”

 

“That’s what I thought as well, but apparently they are allowed a sabbatical every ten years. Only his got cut short because the dragons have returned.”

 

“WHAT?!” Chyehye’s incredulous shout was loud enough to attract the attention of the surrounding orcs. “That’s impossible!”

 

“I assure you, it is not only possible, it has happened.”

 

“This will make things interesting at the college,” Aithne murmured as her mind stumbled through the implications. Of course, she had known this was going to happen, had expected it any time, even, yet somehow she was caught off guard by the news. “At least they might start listeni…”

 

“Is everything all right, my lady?”

 

Aithne jumped at the sound of Merks’ voice and glanced up to find her nemesis-turned-servant standing over her.

 

“Ah. Yes. I just…”

 

“Why is there another one of you?”

 

Aithne jumped again at the sound of a different voice and turned to her other side to find Nyatt towering over the table. “Dammit, you two, walk louder.” A sigh. “She is…” Aithne paused, then decided the truth was just too convoluted. “…my sister, Sloan. Sloan, meet my husband, Ug Hwow Mmenyått. Oh, and this is Merks.”

 

Her husband gave Sloan a nod as he sat beside Aithne. “You may just call me Nyatt. What is impossible?”

 

Sloan smiled. “I am glad you asked, Ug Hwow Mmenyått.” She got the pronunciation perfect the first time, a fact that slightly annoyed Aithne, whose tongue was still having trouble wrapping itself around the thick Orcish phonemics. “After who knows how many thousands of years, dragons have returned to Tamriel. Their numbers will start small but grow rapidly until, in about six years’ time, there will be enough to overwhelm all of Tamriel, end life as we know it, and begin a new age of dominion over the tattered remnants of men and mer. And orsimer.”

 

Aithne could not hold back a laugh at the stunned expressions of the three non-Shaes at the table. “That may have been a bit too large a potion to drink all at once! Surely just the news that the dragons have returned is big enough for now.”

 

Sloan shrugged. “Best to have all the cards on the table. People need to understand the implications of ignoring them this time or it will just be…”

 

Chyehye cleared her throat. “This time?”

 

Aithne jumped in before Sloan could make things even more complicated and unbelievable-sounding. “The last time dragons were around, she means. When all the people were nothing but slaves under them.”

 

“Ah.” Even without mind reading, Chyehye’s expression said she suspected that wasn’t the real answer, but she didn’t press. “Since you somehow know so much about them, even though they may or may not actually exist, does that mean you know how to stop them?”

 

Sloan shrugged. “Of course. We need to find the Dragonborn and make sure she is able to do her job this time.”

 

“Dragonborn?” This time the incredulous question came from Merks. “From one legend to another! Are you saying…” He stopped then flushed. “Um. My apologies, my lady. It is not my place to speak out.”

 

Aithne fought a brief internal fight against what she wanted to say (“You’re right, Merks. As punishment, you need to go back to the college immediately!”) and what an actual adult who could look at things in a fair way would say. Alas, her better side won out.

 

“Nonsense, Merks. You are a servant, not a slave. And even the servant part is your choice, not mine - I have no right to tell you when you can or cannot speak. Say your piece.”

 

Merks cleared his throat. “There have been maybe ten Dragonborns in the entire history of the world. If you say the dragons are back, I believe you, my lady, but just because the dragons are back does not necessarily mean there is a new Dragonborn as well.”

 

Even without prying, his thoughts clearly belied his statement of belief, but Aithne chose to take his words at face value and snorted. “You will trust me on the one but not the other? Suffice for now to say we were forewarned of this series of events. If you choose to continue this course, you will learn the truth of it soon enough.”

 

Merks flushed. “I…of course, I will follow you anywhere, my lady! I was born to…”

 

“No one is born to do anything, Merks. We make choices and live through the consequences.” Unless forced to do otherwise, she didn’t add. A thought came to her in a flash and she jumped on the idea it presented. “If you need to hear it, I release you from any vows you may or may not have made in this life or any other.”

 

“I…no! My lady, I have waited my whole life for you! I would never abandon you!”

 

It had been a nice try. Aithne sighed. “Fine. But if you choose to follow this path, know that it is you who are choosing it. Don’t blame some hazy feeling of destiny or some god’s calling for what might befall you.”

 

“Of…of course.”

 

Aithne closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and wished she had a way to go back in time…well, not time, to go back to the other Skyrim to stop Merks from making his vow of service. It had seemed meaningless at the time, much like his vow to leave her alone after their duel. What had happened at the temple when he went to get “cleansed?”

 

She shook her head and set aside the question, as she had done to so many others since her return. Whatever had happened, it was too late to change it now. Besides, to give credit where it was due, whatever else he had been, Merks was a gifted mage. Aithne had no doubt he would be useful in the fights ahead. She just wished it had been anyone else.

 

 

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