Disclaimer:

I only own the plot and my original characters.

A/N:

Hey all! Sorry that it's been a while, I've been focusing on a lot of other stuff, but I'm not gonna lie, this chapter has been done since early July. I just didn't want to post it until I had finished the rewrite of the intro, which I struggled with and got stuck on for a little too long. But, it's done now! And, I'm really glad because that and the description were the oldest things I've written for the story and have felt kind of disjointed from the rest of it. So, for my returning readers, I'd suggest you all take a look. I haven't really changed too much but it is different and I think fits everything a lot better. Anyway, without further ado, enjoy!

Previously:

Estoril wakes up in a carriage with her hands bound. She is accompanied by three Nords, Ulfric Stormcloak, Ralof and a horse thief. While at first Ralof is polite, he becomes hostile towards Estoril by the time they reach Helgen due to her insults. Once they arrive at Helgen, Estoril is determined to demonstrate how she is most certainly not a part of the Stormcloak Rebellion and is in fact just trying to visit her mother, Taarmend, at the Thalmor Embassy. These assertions peak Elenwen's - the Thalmor first emissary, who is present - interest and she calls Estoril aside to talk. Estoril quickly realizes that Elenwen has no idea who Estoril is, and her mother - although working under Elenwen for years - has never spoken of her. Furthermore, Estoril learns that her mother has been forced to retire due to mental health reasons. Estoril desperately tries to prove to Elenwen that she is actually Taarmend's daughter, and just before she succeeds, a dragon attacks Helgen. Panicked, Estoril narrowly escapes, and manages to find an overturned carriage and a pair of horses nearby. She loots it, takes one of the horses and continues on to find Windhelm and the Necromancer's amulet. Upon arriving at Windhelm she finds nothing but disappointment. And although the is advised to go and talk to the court wizard at the Palace of Kings, Estoril wants to steer clear of Ulfric Stormcloak. Instead, she elects to follow the other piece of advice that she is given - which is to go to the College in Winterhold. Everything about it seems familiar and comfortable, and that is very appealing to her.

###

Chapter 9 - In which I forge new understandings

Winterhold - Skyrim

Loredas, 23rd Day of Last Seed, 4E 201

###

Glacial.

Chilled to the very marrow of my bones - all day, all night.

I do not expect to ever get used to the climate here. The wind howls in my ears as my horse gallops across precarious, narrow paths overlooking dizzying drops. I am miserable. I doubt that being on horseback is any better than traveling on foot in this respect. At least I will reach my objective faster.

Twilight has fallen when I finally approach my destination. My eyelids are growing heavy, but the steady snowfall's icy flakes pelting my cheeks are enough to keep me from falling asleep. Winterhold is grossly underwhelming, even more so than Helgen. The crunching of my horse's hooves plodding across the tightly packed snow is the only audible noise in my current vicinity. I find it rather disturbing to discover decrepit buildings next to well-kept ones. Looming in the distance is what can only be the infamous mages' College. The juxtaposition of the ruined buildings framed by the imposing castle-like structure is rather obscene. Yet, I cannot help but notice the sea of endless, glittering stars above me, interspaced by ribbons of ethereal lights painting the sky - casting eerily beautiful shadows across the landscape.

I spy a hay-roofed edifice with a warm, inviting glow emanating from within. It appears to be the only building worth investigating. A plaque by the entrance states that it is named " The Frozen Hearth". It must be a rest house of sorts? This revelation solidifies my decision to go inside. I need a place to rest for the night. I cannot count on the College to welcome me with open arms and provide me with accomodations the moment I arrive. I decide to dismount my horse and seek out a place to hitch it to. I amusedly ponder if I should hitch my horse close enough for it to be able to reach the roof. I have not fed the poor thing in too long, it must be hungry.

With a chuckle, I do.

Inside, my eyes are rudely assaulted by the same accomodations I have come to expect of Skyrim. Rustic, wooden wall paneling, and jaggedly cut stone tiles for flooring with various animal furs strewn across it. In the center of everything is a square-shaped fire pit - the blazing flames inside it crackling merrily. What immediately differentiates this from any other Nordic establishment I have happened upon is the rancid smell. It accosts my nostrils the moment I take more than a handful of steps past the threshold. I quickly discover the cause of the scent.

Two individuals - a Nord man and a hooded male whose race I cannot determine- are having a confrontation by the front desk.

"I'm sorry, could you describe the smell?" The hooded person asks in a near condescending manner. I immediately recognize his haughty tone as one that could only belong to an Altmer, and am all the more intrigued. I listen more intently than before.

"Like some horrible monster was turned inside out, and then exploded. What did you do?" I find myself silently agreeing.

"It was a minor miscalculation." The Altmer hurridley explains while wringing his hands together. "I've already corrected it for future experiments."

"This, this is why people have a problem with your College, Nelacar." The Nord man shakes his head and throws his hands up in the air - defeated - he mumbles something inaudible to himself while walking away.

The Altmer - Nelacar- straightens his posture, practically sticking his nose in the air, and paces indignantly to the other end of the room. He takes a seat on a bench by one of the long tables and begins eating some of the grapes that are laid out before him.

So this Nelacar is associated with the mages' College? Perhaps talking to him will be beneficial and provide insight into what I will encounter tomorrow? And so, I move towards him purposefully. Nelacar eyes me suspiciously when he finally takes note of my approach, and before I can even open my mouth to introduce myself he exclaims:

"I don't deal with any College applicants these days, so don't bother asking."

I am taken aback by the annoyance with which he addresses me. But I school my features into a mask of indifference and correct him.

"You are mistaken, I do not seek entry to the College as an applicant, merely as an adept scholar of the arcane looking to obtain connections."

Nelacar scoffs at my response. " Then good luck getting in."

I frown, " what do you mean?"

"I mean, the members of the College are isolationists as much as they are students of the arcane arts. Few outsiders are allowed inside without already having permission."

"Are there no exceptions?" I ask in disbelief, because I am certain that when I let them know who I am and what I come from, they will certainly make an exception for me.

"Few and far inbetween," he drawls. " I'm sure you're well aware of the controversy of there even being a mages College in Skyrim?"

" To a certain extent... I have not yet been in this land for a week..." I admit, and see Nelacar's eyebrows nearly disappear behind his hood in response.

"You've come directly from the Isles?" Nelacar questions.

"Just about," I reply, somewhat hesitant - unsure of how much information I should disclose to him. " It took over a week to get to the border - nevermind the time it took to get to Winterhold."

" That's just semantics." He shrugs before motioning to an empty seat across from him. " Well, if you're planning on chatting I suggest you take a seat. And help yourself to some food as well, you must have traveled a long way today."

Gratefully, I take him up on his offer and seat myself comfortably across from him. I am indeed quite hungry. I load up a plate with meats, fruits and cheeses. I am under no illusion that my eyes are currently bigger than my stomach, but the food is just all too enticing, and I have not eaten properly in what seems like ages.

I begin to eat - being careful not to scarf everything down like a glutton under Nelacar's watchful gaze - the Altmer in question takes my silence as an invitation to speak : "I grew up in Firsthold but haven't been back in decades. I was first drawn here due to the promise of learning from foreign masters of the arcane, but stayed for the seclusion the area provided. Anyway, I realized I much preferred living here in Skyrim - away from the Thalmor's constant, oppressive presence and prying eyes."

I try not to show my irritation at his inflammatory statement, realizing that there must be plenty Altmer that share his views of the Thalmor here - no matter how repulsive said views might be. I need to start getting used to hearing them. And I suppose to an extent I too can understand his sentiments - albeit for entirely dissimilar reasons.

"Where on the Isles are you from?" The question is posed to me as I am chewing a mouthful of chicken. I cover my mouth politely and swallow - my cheeks reddening from the awkward pause I have created.

"Ah, well, um... I grew up in Cloudrest-"

"A beautiful city," Nelacar cuts me off. " The panoramic views from Mt. Eton Nir are quite spectacular if I recall correctly."

"... They are indeed, " I respond irritatedly at being interrupted. " As I was saying-"

'- Sorry, hold on,"

I feel my patience wearing thin at the second interruption and I clench my fists. Do Altmer here have no sense of decorum?

"- you grew up in Cloudrest, so, how long ago was that? You appear to be quite a young lady, but perhaps I'm just-"

"-I am 31 years old." Two can play at this game. " I am no young lady, but I can hardly be considered a wizened mer either."

Nelacar laughs. " Well, in comparison to myself, you're certainly a young lady. I'm nearly a century and a half old!"

" Ah, I see." I suppose he does look rather old, but it is hard to tell from the way that his hood covers most of his face.

" You have lovely hair as well. It's a refreshing change from the typical flaxen Altmer hair."

"Thank you." I automatically reply while I silently disagree, although, it probably looks better than usual as I had managed to procure a bath on my last night in Windhelm.

"Living as long as I have, it does get rather dull always being around people that look like copies of one another." He pauses and scoffs. " But the Thalmor do go to such lengths to make sure the Altmer race remains looking like that."

My patience is wearing thinner. There really is only so much I can take of his blatant disrespect of Thalmor ideals.

" Well despite that, I think that the Thalmor have done much good for the Altmer as a whole." I am unsure how Nelacar will receive this statement, but I just cannot help but make it. "The race of men have done so much in the past to threaten the safety of mer, Thalmor rule is nothing but a natural reaction to said threat."

Nelacar looks at me thoughtfully and sighs. " I suppose you have a point. Sometimes it is easy to forget how things were before... Especially when you're trying to. Be thankful that you weren't alive back then."

"Believe me, I am very thankful." I respond with what I hope is a friendly smile hastily plastered across my face.

Nelacar nods before continuing, " I can't say that their... attitude isn't offputting. In fact, there is an Agent of the Thalmor posted at the College right now as the advisor to the Arch Mage. From what I have heard from Mirabelle Ervine - the Master Wizard - he has been quite the nuisance. His presence has created a rather ... tense atmosphere. Yet, I can't speak from personal experience. I was... dismissed from the College years before he arrived.

"Dismissed?" I ask as several other questions bounce around inside my head - mainly ones pertaining to the Thalmor advisor posted at the College. Perhaps he might be of use to me?

"Yes...It was on account of a number of failed experiments...I'd rather not go into that any further right now." Nelacar stammered before regaining his composure. " After my dismissal, I left Winterhold for some time, and returned to stay here at the inn - I still have research that keeps me busy, and being here in Winterhold ensures I have access to former colleagues."

" I see. That is all quite understandable, it must be very useful having old colleagues to count on for assistance. " I reassure, hoping to come off as amicably as I can before getting to what I really want to talk about.

"I'm glad you understand," he smiles as he takes a sip from his goblet of wine.

As he sets the goblet down, I rearrange my features into one of contemplation. "Say," I start. " that Thalmor agent, why do you suppose he was sent to the College? By what you have already said about him I can imagine what a burden he must be..."

Nelacar's expression turns sour. " Yes, he is quite the burden indeed... Ancano, I think was his name... Well, the College is quite separate from Winterhold proper, one could even say that it governs itself. Due to the White-Gold Concordat, the Thalmor have taken measures to oversee areas of interest in Skyrim. The College would certainly fall under that category. But I wouldn't be surprised if the Thalmor had ulterior motives as well in sending him there."

"That makes sense," I reply.

Nelacar nods and yawns. " Well then, " he starts - the remnants of his yawn distorting his voice, " I believe it has gotten to be quite late, and I have grown tired. It was nice chatting with you. When you're ready to sleep as well, go talk to Dagur about getting a room for the night"

"It was nice chatting with you as well. Goodnight." I said with what I hope is a warm smile on my lips.

And with a wave, Nelacar disappears into a room near the front counter.

I remain seated, pondering how I will approach entering the College tomorrow morning knowing what I do now. I am unsure how members of the Thalmor in Skyrim will react to me, but I think that I can safely assume that Elenwen has not spoken about me to anyone - nevermind a lone Agent all the way in Winterhold. If she has spoken about me to anyone, it would probably be to the other Emissaries, and perhaps mother.

Mother...

It is still hard to fathom that mother has gone insane.

If what Elenwen said was true, would mother even be able to understand whatever Elenwen told her about me? And despite my better judgement I wish I knew what was going on with her.

Lying in the subpar bed provided to me I sleep restlessly, and dream of eating the mages College while mother, Ondolemar and Hesselle watch disappointedly.

I meet yet another Altmer in the morning. She is on guard duty at the bridge leading to the College. Faralda is her name, she wears plain mage robes, yet has some of the most peculiar red hair I have ever seen on an Altmer - and I find her rather annoying. I cannot quite put my finger on why and am mulling over it to such an extent that I miss the question that she just asked me.

"I am so sorry, could you repeat that?" I try to bite back my sarcasm - it does not work.

Faralda pinches the bridge of her nose " I said, what can you offer the College? Not just anyone is allowed inside. Those wishing to enter must show some degree of skill with magic."

" As I have already explained to you," I begin through gritted teeth. "I come directly from Alinor, I was raised in a Noble household, and I am sure you know as well as I do that that can only mean I have been trained in the arcane arts since my youth."

"And I understand that. But rules are rules. A practical demonstration is in order." As if to further articulate her point she takes a step forward and seems to widen her stance - making it clear that there will be no getting past her unless I am willing to follow her rules.

Although what she is asking for is nothing but reasonable, something is stopping me from complying with her simple request. And I know that my pig-headed nature is just rearing its ugly head, but why should I have to follow her orders? Why should I have to prove myself to her. I am a Noble Altmer of the highest Estate and a former Thalmor Senior Officer!...

... A former Thalmor Senior Officer... Who now has the perfect, spur of the moment alibi.

I offer up Faralda a patronizing smirk. " Listen, Farlada, was it?"

"Its, Faral-"

"-Right! Faralda. Ha! I am terribly sorry, I never was the best with names... Listen, I have to confess, I have not been entirely upfront with you about my identity."

"Is that so?" She deadpanns - nonplussed.

"Indeed." I continue," you see, I was sent here by the Emissaries at the Thalmor Embassy to join my colleague, Ancano. He is expecting me. I believe he is currently the advisor to the Arch Mage?" My smirk deepens and I take a step forward towards her - moving into her comfort zone and forcing her to take a step back in turn.

"You're a member of the Thalmor?" She remarks, cocking her head to the side and wearing an expression torn between surprise and disbelief.

"I certainly am. I am Senior Officer Estoril, and I expect to gain entry to this College at once." I command.

"Then why aren't you wearing those fancy robes The Thalmor always do?" She inquires.

Unphased, I quickly supply her with an answer: "The work I do is of a more... sensitive nature. It is best that I remain without obvious affiliations."

An indiscernible expression crosses Faralda's face before she begins to nod slowly. " Why hadn't you said so in the first place? In that case, you'd better come along with me."

She immediately turns around and begins to walk across the bridge towards the College - not waiting for me to follow. This inconsiderate act of hers would usually have left me rather vexed, but it matters very little to me in this scenario. I have gotten exactly what I wanted to, what is there to be vexed about? I quickly catch up to her and fall into step not far behind. She is silent while we walk, only stopping at certain points to cast magelight onto several odd, glowing, blue pools scattered evenly across the bridge. The bridge, which at first glance is rather grand and sturdy, upon closer inspection is in a dire state of disrepair. Some sections of it are missing handrails altogether where stone has crumbled off of it - making it awfully easy to fall to one's demise. The stone itself has a worn and weathered appearance with patches of discoloration here and there.

As the two of us near the final stretch of the bridge, Faralda turns and acknowledges me for the first time since we began walking across it. " I'm sure that you must be anxious to meet with Ancano. I will bring you to him at once."

I am hit with wave after wave of anxiety. My fingers tingle, and I feel beads of sweat begin to form on my forehead. Whereas earlier I had so easily supplied her with excuses, I find myself now drawing a blank. Impersonating a Thalmor Officer has always been a capital offense. I cannot allow Faralda to take me to him. I must be able to meet him first - alone - and then figure out what lies I will tell him when the situation calls for me to.

"That will not be necessary." I try to reassure her, mentally kicking myself for the fatal flaw in my plan. "I do not think it would be best for me to simply intrude on whatever work he might be doing. I would prefer to go to him later on my own when he is more likely to be taking a break."

"No, no I insist, you shouldn't be worried about disturbing him, Ancano is usually observing lessons in the Hall of the Elements anyways - and that's the first and largest room in the College's main building. You simply can't miss him."

The alarms going off in my brain are doing nothing to help me come up with excuses any faster, so I dumbly nod and mumble my aquescene.

Unlike the bridge, the courtyard is as grand as one might expect it to be. Although it too is covered in snow, it manages to look truly magical rather than decrepit due to its structures having clearly been upkept. In the center of it all is a fountain with a statue of someone that may have been an important mage at one point. But I can barely delight in all of its splendour. I am far too panicked, and am running out of time.

"Ah, it seems we are in luck, Ancano is right over there," Faralda exclaims as she points to two individuals by what must be the College's main entrance. One of which is donning the all too familiar Thalmor Robes.

I am finding it harder to swallow with every step I take that brings me closer to them.

And then, I hear it - a familiar, terrifying roar.

It is a dragon, descending rapidly from the sky with graceful arabesques. Seconds later, the beast is close enough for the beating of its wings to be audible. The previously serene atmosphere of the courtyard has erupted into utter bedlam. The mages that had been outside enjoying the formerly peaceful day in the courtyard - reading tomes, practicing spells and conversing amongst themselves - are now focused entirely on the threatening creature heading straight for them. Either staring - transfixed, and rooted to the ground in fear - or, springing into action and readying themselves for battle.

Before I can react and run for cover, the dragon drops directly into the courtyard. Up close, I realize immediately that it is a different one from before. This one's scales are white, and it's spine is lined with black spikes. The dragon whips its head towards a group that had been milling about idly just moments earlier and spits not fire, but a white, misty haze at them. Two of the mages are knocked back while the third manages to run for cover - icicles hanging off of him. I want to run, high-tail it out of here, hop on my horse's back and ride off into the distance.

But where would I run to? Perhaps I should merely run for cover now while the dragon has not yet taken notice of me, hide, and formulate a plan...

Out of the corner of my eye, I see a flash of lightning. It is the Thalmor Agent Ancano - sparks streaming from his fingertips as he runs within range of the dragon to fight it. I cannot help but be impressed by his stark courage. His movements are purposeful and efficient - evidence of his superior training within the Thalmor ranks - as he easily dodges the dragon's frosty breath. I find myself... inspired. I trained my whole life to become a Thalmor Senior Officer. I know I can fight as well as he can considering our identical training.

I suppose I have no choice but to fight. Anyway, I cannot have this dragon destroying the College - the place that I had hoped would help me get my bearings in this ridiculous, uncivilized land.

With renewed purpose, I wave my arms in a circular motion - focusing and drawing upon my magika as swirling purple orbs appear in both of my palms. I fuse the two orbs together into one that explodes with a purple flash as a flame thrall bursts forward from it. With graceful, aerobatic twirls, the fiery daedra begins to hurl fire balls at the dragon- eliciting pained shrieks from the beast. I repeat the action once more- conjuring another just in case - before I take a moment to recharge my magika. My flame thralls, along with at least five mages, and the Thalmor Agent Ancano, are attacking the frost dragon with all manner of spells. The dragon has taken to the skies again, but unlike last time where the pathetic, magic-less humans stood no chance against such a powerful, ancient creature - the mages and I will triumph. I feel the steady hum of my replenished magika coursing through my veins again. As I run to position myself just so - to be out of the dragon's way but still within range - I let flames spring to my hands.

It is as if time has slowed itself down to a halt as I focus intensely on my target. Even the snowflakes drifting down from the heavens seem to have stilled themselves mid-fall. The only motion I can sense are the dragon's. Which have become erratic - it's wings flapping awkwardly, unable to keep a steady path of flight - seemingly careening towards a collision course. It has lost its balance. One of its wings is bleeding heavily from a handful of grievous wounds, and its tail has had several portions burned off.

We are winning this! We can really kill it!

It takes very little time for the dragon to decide to land, and it does far less gracefully than before. I notice that my flame thralls have rushed to get closer to it, and I hatch a plan. Now is the time for me to act! I release the fire from my fingertips in a stream - a wall of flames - towards the flame thrall closest to the dragon. After a matter of seconds, the thrall falls to the ground and explodes in a spectacular burst of fire - one that engulfs the dragon in turn. That, along with the combined damage of the other mage's spells are enough to finally bring it down.

The dragon's limp body hits the snow-covered ground with a tremendous, echoing thud. And I am arrested with a compelling need to approach it. Slowly, I do. And just as before when I had been focused on bringing the beast down, time stands still, as still as the lifeless form in front of me. I find myself utterly convinced that there is something just underneath this dead dragon's skin that is calling to me.

And that is insane.

When I kneel down beside the dragon to more closely inspect it, its skin begins to glow as it peels apart and falls off in shreds. I jolt back in shock as I watch the kind of deterioration one might expect to occur to a corpse in a matter of months occur in mere seconds. The deterioration continues until there is nothing left but bones and a glowing, swirling light heading straight for me. I yelp in surprise and shield my eyes as the light collides with my body and I ... I have absorbed it.

I am... So warm and comfortable. Like I have been wrapped up in a blanket of the softest fabric in all of Tamriel. And I ... I understand the dragon, somehow, I know now what it is like to be flying above the rest of the world. Everything looks so small, so fragile... I am the dragon.

This light..Could it have been... its soul?

" What in Oblivion just happened?!" A wavering, feminine voice from behind me shouts. I turn around to see Faralda looming over me with eyes as big as saucers.

" I.. am not certain," I lie, my voice weak. But I feel I know exactly what has happened, the only question remaining is; why?

" Who is this Elf?" A third feminine voice asks from outside my field of view. I turn to look toward where it came from and see a Breton woman with short brown hair and a determined look on her face striding towards Faralda and I. Walking beside her is none other than the Thalmor Agent Ancano.

Fuck. I had nearly, blissfully forgotten.

I whip my head away from the two approaching individuals and look to the ground. I am not prepared to deal with this. Not at all.

"Master Wizard Ervine, this is Estoril. " Faralda speaks, and I sense a hint of mockery in her tone. " She is a Thalmor Senior Officer, sent by the Emissaries from the Embassy to join her colleague Ancano."

My face has grown red hot and I do not dare look up at any of them. What can I possibly say?

"We had just been on our way over to him when we were all...Interrupted by the dragon."

I begin to chew my bottom lip.

"I assume you were expecting her?"

I shut my eyes. Tightly.

"Indeed I have been expecting her. And it is about time too, I was beginning to worry she would never show up."

That was rather... unexpected.

I open my eyes and cautiously look up to appraise this Ancano.

I am met with yellow eyes the same shade as mine. Otherwise, he looks just as I expected he would. His Thalmor robes are in pristine condition, and only serve to accentuate the haughty way he holds himself. His shockingly white, shoulder length hair is immaculate - with not a strand out of place, a stark contrast to the manner in which he fervently cast his electric bolts while dodging the dragon's frosty breath. His visage is the very manifestation of order.

" Are you alright, Estoril? " Ancano questions me, and I realize that I must have been gazing a bit too intently.

I immediately nod as I clamber to my feet and attempt to brush off whatever filth may have attached itself to my robes. " Yes, I am quite alright, just a little bit shaken...from whatever just happened. Nothing a bit of rest could not take care of."

He crosses his arms. " What exactly did just happen?"

" Yeah, what Oblivion happened? What was that light that you... absorbed?" The ever-annoying Faralda pesters. What right does she have to demand answers?

"Uh, excuse me?"

The group of us all turn towards the source of the voice, and see a hooded, Nord man approaching.

" I don't mean to be a bother, but I might be able to help answer that." The Nord man offers sheepishly.

Before I can comment, curse or scowl at the presumptuous Nord, someone else beats me to it, albeit in a rather opposite way. "We are listening. Speak Onmund." Mirabelle Ervine requests in a firm, yet gentle tone.

Onmund shifts his weight from one foot to another awkwardly as he lifts both his hands up in a disarming manner. " Look, I may be completely wrong here, but the evidence in front of me is enough to suggest this being a possibility. So, don't get too worked up if I'm completely wrong here, eh? I just want to help and it seems like I can so -"

"Onmund." The Master Wizard interrupts - her patience clearly wearing thin.

This is enough to snap the Nord mage out of his blubbering state and actually string together a cohesive sentence. " Have any of you heard of the Dovahkiin prophecy?"

His question is met with blank stares.

"The what?" I ask, intrigued despite myself.

"Well," Onmund starts again. " In Nordic legend, a prophecy is foretold about the Dovahkiin, or, Dragonborn. A rare individual who has been born with the blood and soul of a dragon, but the body of a mortal. It is their destiny to destroy the evil dragon Alduin - the world eater - from, well, doing just that - eating the world. And since dragons have returned, it's safe to assume that Alduin has as well."

" And you think that I am this... Dragonborn." I exclaim flatly.

"Uh, well yes I suppose." Onmund begins stuttering again. " When you killed the dragon, that light that you absorbed, how did you feel after you did that?"

Now it is my turn to feel uncomfortable. It just seems wrong to have to explain it all to a group of strangers - quite frankly, it sounds very silly as well. But I see now that all eyes are on me, and I have little choice to do otherwise. " It was not painful, It was... relaxing, but also somehow... exhilarating?" I am fumbling, but how do I explain such a foreign concept? And then I take in a deep breath before I say the words that will make me seem like a madlady. " It was as if the dragon had become a part of me."

"Then I must be absorbed its soul, and with it, its power..." Onmund trails off, as if in a sudden daze. " You're... Dragonborn."

How am I supposed to feel?

Once more, when I had been absolutely certain of what my purpose in this world was, I am proven quite the opposite - that I know nothing.

" I... do not understand, how am I the hero from a Nordic legend? I am an Altmer."

Onmund shakes his head. " The prophecy does not specify race or gender, so the fact that you're an Altmer is irrelevant."

"This is... quite a lot to process." I say, because nothing else comes to mind. I really am at a loss.

"Indeed." Ancano speaks, and my gaze jolts over him. " I believe it is high time I have a word with my associate in private. There appears to be much for us to discuss."

Glad for the interruption breaking the tense atmosphere. I nod and agree with Ancano's request before I follow him to a door on the opposite side of the College's main entrance. Yet, just as we reach it, the earth begins to tremble. Is it another dragon? But then I hear a shout:

"DOV-AH-KIIN!"

And then all is silent.

...What was that?

"Hold on!" Onmund shouts as he runs to catch up with Ancano and I.

I inwardly groan, but stop all the same. This Onmund has managed to be quite informative, I suppose I will hear him out again.

"Those were the Greybeards! Monks on High Hrothgar! They're calling for you! Gods! It's really happening, just as the stories said it would!"

"These Greybeards are calling for me? How?" I am perplexed. How would a group of mere men be able to project their voices in such a way?

" They use the ancient power of the voice... it's hard to explain and I'm not even sure about how it works- sorry. But this means that they want to meet you! You've got to climb High Hrothgar and see them!"

In an effort to both placate and escape Onmund as quickly as possible, I agree to meet with the Greybeards. And then, when Ancano beckons for me, I continue to follow him into the room. There is indeed much to discuss.

Inside, it appears that this wing of the College is meant for housing.

"This is the the Hall of Attainment. The living quarters provided for apprentice mages. I have a private room for myself over here." Ancano points out as he leads me towards another door. We enter single file.

I take a seat over by a desk situated in front of a stone window, Ancano occupies the other empty seat next to mine. For a moment that feels like it stretches out for hours, I stare awkwardly at my hands as I wait for Ancano to speak.

"I suppose you must have as many questions as I do right now- perhaps even more." Hearing Ancano finally speak allows me to let go of the breath I did not known I was holding.

He eyes me in a calculating manner, his whole body turned towards me. I feel as if my space is being invaded by his imposing presence.

"However," He begins again - slowly, stressing each syllable. "First and foremost, I expect you to divulge the real reason you came here."

Of course. I do owe him that much.

I jump in - head first - into a semi-accurate retelling of everything that occurred prior to this moment. Ancano sits silently - maintaining the same calculating humor all the while. I tell him that I truly had been a Thalmor Senior Officer, and how through a truly horrible misunderstanding, my membership had been revoked. I gloss over the details... they are rather trivial after all and only serve to dredge up unpleasant memories. And then I tell him that after many years of silence, I received a letter from my mother- the Third Thalmor Emissary to Skyrim. In which she begged me to come and visit her, and how could I refuse? I had missed her so much and had not heard from her in years! But then I ran into all this trouble at Helgen ( being mistaken for a member of a rebellion, convincing Elenwen that I am who I say I am, learning about my mother's illness, escaping a dragon etc..) and have been wandering aimlessly through Skyrim, looking for some place to get my bearings. Somewhere I could find a renewed sense of purpose before continuing on my trek to find my mother.

There is no need to mention anything regarding my original intention for traveling to Skyrim - my intended pilgrimage to Windhelm to procure the Necromancer's Amulet. No. That will have to be shelved once again. And perhaps...Perhaps this new development - my being the Dragonborn, well, perhaps this is what Mannimarco was guiding me towards discovering after all.

Perhaps this is my true destiny. Are destinies not always discovered in rather convoluted ways?

"But why not continue on to the Thalmor Embassy? You said yourself that Elenwen seemed convinced that you were your mother's daughter." Ancano mused - a dangerous glint in his eyes.

I hedge, but confidently assert; " While that is true, I did not want to run the risk of being held indefinitely for further questioning. You know as well as I how... protocol is carried out in these situations."

Ancano chuckles. " You are quite right. I know all too well and I cannot blame you."

"Would you permit me now to ask you a question?"

"Certainly," Ancano says bemusedly.

" Why did you lie to Faralda and Master Wizard Ervine for me?"

"Why, Estoril. You seem rather perceptive. Are you telling me you are entirely incapable of even guessing why that might be?" His tone is one more appropriate for light-humored teasing, not for such a serious matter. This irks me, but I must remain respectful.

"I am sorry to disappoint. I did not want to assume." I say cautiously.

" A sensible decision," he concedes with a half-smile. " Well, it was quite simple really. You presented yourself as a person of interest- a person that ultimately may be of use to me."

I furrow my brows, " How?"

" You proved yourself an apt wielder of the arcane while fighting that dragon. And when I first saw what turned out to be you absorbing its soul, I was intrigued. Furthermore, this business of you being the... Dragonborn - a Nordic hero- well, that fact alone makes you someone I should take interest in."

I nod in understanding. I know I put on quite an impressive display of my skills. I am extraordinarily gifted, after all. "Fair enough. Your logic is sound." I look Ancano straight in the eyes and hold his gaze. "What now then?"

"What now?" He muses. " There are several possibilities, some more ideal than others - the worst of them being me turning you in for impersonating an officer."

My breath hitches, but I do not allow any other outward display of my anxiety to manifest itself. I say nothing. I keep my gaze steady.

"But I was hoping it would not have to come to that. I was hoping that we could help one another out." He finishes with a pleasant smile.

"You want my help?" While I am not all that surprised, I am increasingly more curious by the minute. And although the possibility of being turned in for impersonating an officer is now unlikely, I still find myself anxious.

"Of course I do." Ancano says - stressing every syllable. " Aside from the fact that you are clearly a formidable wielder of the arcane, I have found myself at an impasse with my work here. The members of the College and the Arch Mage have been uncooperative - distrustful. While I cannot wholly blame them, it has certainly impeded the progress of my mission here. "

Ancano pauses, as if some incongruent thought came to his attention, before continuing as eloquently as before. "I was sent here to look after the interests of the Aldmeri Dominion and to keep an eye out for magical artifacts in the area - not merely to advise the Arch mage."

I raise my left eyebrow, " And why are you telling me this?"

"Because your arrival is so fortuitous." He states with a smile that does not quite reach his eyes. " In comparison to myself, your slate is clean with the members of the College. And, again, you are a Nordic hero. They have all the more reason to trust you. You are an asset. You will help me achieve my goals here. "

"And if I refuse?" I challenge.

"That would be a rather unfortunate decision, but it is yours to make and would result in you getting accustomed to residing in a cell."

Ancano now sits silently - expectantly. Both he and I know that it is only a matter of seconds - perhaps minutes - before I take him up on his offer. In a way it seems I have backed myself into a corner. But is it altogether a bad thing if I assist this Ancano? He could become a powerful ally while allowing me to fly under the radar of the other local Thalmor authorities if necessary. Furthermore, he could be a valuable resource regarding information about Skyrim, and that was what I had wanted in the first place, was it not?

Also, something about Ancano makes me feel... odd. Almost as if I already respect him and want his respect in turn... But no, that is not quite it, is it? I will have to ponder this more later...

Making sure to give Ancano the most imperious look I can muster, I speak. "You have stated your terms quite plainly, I thank you for that. I suppose there is no sense in me refusing your offer. Yes, I will help you."

"Splendid, " Ancano exclaims with a clap of his hands. " It would have pained me to see what would have happened to you had you not accepted..."

"Yes, well..." I start, somewhat awkwardly.

"Nevermind that now. Let us talk shop." He dismisses. " The individuals that Onmund mentioned earlier... the Greybeards - apparently they had been calling for you. I want you to go to them. Meet them and come back to me with whatever information they tell you." He orders in an oddly casual tone.

"Sending me away already?" I question - somewhat surprised, yet, I have caught onto his line of thinking. He wants me to be his eyes and ears. This whole Dragonborn business seems like it is going to be a big deal, and he wants to be among the first to know all about it.

"I suppose you could put it that way, but I expect you to return within three weeks - preferably less than that. If you do not, be certain that I will send word to First Emissary Elenwen about exactly what you have been up to, and exactly how to deal with you." His ominous statement is made with the same saccharine smile I have grown accustomed to seeing him wear during this conversation.

"Understood." I reply, keeping my voice as firm as I can.

"Wonderful. Then you shall depart tomorrow." He articulates in a tone that leaves no room for argument. " Until then I shall see to it that Mirabelle Ervine finds you accomodations for the night. And perhaps you might want to get yourself better acquainted with the students here. Introduce yourself, try to make... friends..." He says this like a request, but I am almost certain that it is an order.

I nod and I get to my feet - Ancano follows suit while continuing to position himself in front of me - nearly looming over me. " Is there anything else that I can do before tomorrow?" I inquire, finding it hard to keep eye contact with our close proximity.

I see Ancano take a moment to ponder my question before he rakes his eyes purposefully from my boots to the top of my head. "Perhaps you ought to...make yourself a touch more presentable before meeting the other students here..." He trails off with a hint of a scowl forming at the corners of his lips.

My cheeks redden. I have not put thought into my appearance in ages. Oh... I must look... I do not even want to contemplate how I must look to him! " A-ah, " I begin, stuttering. " Of course! But I... These are the only clothes that I have at present." I look down - ashamed.

"Ask Mirabelle Ervine. She should be able to supply you with with a set of sensible robes." He offers matter-of-factly.

After a few more parting words, I set off in search of Master Wizard Ervine. All the while, I find myself going over and over the conversation I just had with Ancano in my head. Something about it all does not sit quite right with me. And I cannot quite put my finger on it, but I think that it has to do with the way I comported myself with him. I acted... not quite like myself. Perhaps I was...pliant? Now that is an adjective that I would not normally associate myself with. Why, I was nearly friendly. How bizarre.

Yet I cannot shake the feeling that Ancano has affected me in some way, and this thought disturbs me far less than it should.