//------------------------------//
// The Only Chapter 
// Story: Ursa Minor, Major Deities 
// by Eltirions 
//------------------------------//

Fizzlepop Berrytwist was NOT having a good day.

That might have had something to do with the fact that currently, she was on the ground with a Ursa Minor looming over her, it’s paw raised up.

She rolled to the side, only just avoiding being squished by the starbear’s limb. Her horn sparked with magic as she tried to think of something, anything to escape from her current situation.

The bear brought it’s paw down again, and this time Tempest wasn’t able to dodge in time. As the world went black around her, she heard a strange laughter.




|-x-X-x-|




In the void between universes, two siblings met. One looked like a chaotic mess of swirling colours, shaped vaguely like an equally chaotic creature, while the other had a more humanoid shape of purple and gold, with three faces at the same time.

‘’Oh ho ho!’’ the purple shape said, three voices sounding in maddening unison. ‘’What have you got for me now, old boy?’’

The other creature flicked a limb, and a pony-like shape popped into view, curled up in a sleeping position. ‘’That’s one less problem for the future,’’ it said.

‘’What do you want me to do with it?’’ the purple shape asked. ‘’Turn it into cheese? String out its intestines? Both?”

‘’No, I’ve got something a lot more wholesome planned,’’ the chaotic being replied. ‘’I think there is a certain Mother that really could use a child.’’

‘’OhhahAHAHAHAHA!!!’’ the purple shape laughed. ‘’My boy, that is delightfully refreshing a thought. I shall see that it happens.’’

‘’Perfect.’’ The pony-like shape slowly drifted over from the chaos being to the other shape, who grabbed it with a hand. ‘’Pleasure doing business with you.’’

The purple shape nodded. ‘’The pleasure is mine!’’




|-x-X-x-|




The city of Mournhold was one of the greatest cities ever built on Tamriel, both before and after it’s destruction by Mehrunes Dagon. At it’s centre stood its greatest structure, the Tribunal Temple, looming over the rest of the city from it’s high position.

In this structure lived one of Morrowind’s three Living Gods, and this was the most well-known of the three: Almalexia, the Mother of Morrowind. Currently, the goddess was retired in her suite, strewn out on a couch as she watched a hearth crackle merrily, while her mind was occupied with other matters.

Her eye wandered to a still-steaming cup of tea, that stood on the small table in front of the couch. Not wanting to move, Almalexia instead focused her magic, and the cup gently lifted itself off the table and towards her mouth, where she drank from it with a smile.

A smile that turned into a frown of concern, as she felt a powerful being approaching. She put her hand to her head in an effort to prevent the inevitable headache from rising.

There was a pop, but no Sheogorath.

Instead there was a dark red-purple, tiny horse, lying on the floor. What appeared to be a broken horn stuck out of the red mane on her forehead, and sparks of turquoise magic spilled out from it. Her eyes were closed.

Almalexia rose from her couch in a fluid movement, then walked over and knelt down next to the horse. She could feel a faint heartbeat, and a magical scan confirmed the filly was alive, if extremely tired.

That was when Almalexia saw a note was stuck on the filly’s flank. Curious, she reached out and grabbed it with her 

Dear Almalexia,

This is a little gift a brother of mine decided to send to me from his home, and I couldn’t help but think of you.

Signed,

Sheogorath

Almalexia’s eyebrows rose as she read the letter again. For the Prince of Madness, it was remarkably coherent. Perhaps Haskill had penned it in his name.

But who had written the letter was of little importance. She could feel Sheogorath’s touches all over this filly, though not on her. For once, it seemed Sheogorath had decided to keep someone sane.

Suddenly, the filly’s eyes sprung wide open. Almalexia barely had time to register that they were a similar shade of turquoise to the sparks that came from her horn before the filly jumped up.

‘’Who are you?! Where am I!?’’ the filly asked in a panicked voice. ‘’Why’s… MY HORN!’’ she stared in shock at the broken appendage.

This gave Almalexia a few seconds to assess the situation. ‘’Be at peace, young one,’’ she said, lacing her voice with gentle calm and reassurance. ‘’No harm will come to you here.’’

The filly’s eyes turned down from her horn towards Almalexia. ‘’Who are you?’’ she repeated.

‘’I am Almalexia,’’ Almalexia replied, ‘’the Mother of Morrowind, and bearer of many more titles.’’ She smiled gently. ‘’And what is your name, little one?’’

‘’F-fizzlepop Berrytwist,’’ the filly answered in a trembling voice. ‘’I-I’m sorry for disrespecting y-you, goddess…’’

‘’Hush,’’ Almalexia said. ‘’If I understand correctly, you have just been ripped from your world and thrown into a new one.’’

‘’R-really?’’

‘’I am speculating,’’ Almalexia admitted, ‘’but it seems likely. You certainly do not look like the unicorns of this world, and you are most definitely not a Daedra.’’

‘’What’s a Daedra? Is that a demon?’’

‘’Of a sort, yes,’’ Almalexia agreed. Demons, if she remembered correctly, were a Breton term for Daedra. However, this filly surely didn’t need more issues, and talking of Daedra was not a pleasant topic, especially with someone so young.

‘’How old are you, Fizzlepop?’’

‘’I’m seven, ma’am.’’

Seven, and so far from home; a home that Almalexia couldn’t even take her back to. Poor, poor filly. Still, she had to try.

‘’Well, I will try to see if I can bring you back to your home plane,’’ Almalexia said, ‘’but I cannot promise anything, Fizzlepop. I will confer with my fellow Tribunes and with many mages, and I swear I will do everything in my power to get you home.’’

Her eyes flicked towards the broken horn on Fizzlepop’s head. ‘’First, I think, I will fix that.’’

Healing was one of the few magical skills she had grown proficient at, and restoring Fizzlepop’s horn, while more complicated than expected, was not the hardest thing she had ever healed by a long shot.

The tackling hug she got from the filly afterwards more than compensated it.