“KREEEEEEEEEEEEE-KEE-KEE!”
“Stross come down from there!”
“Kre-ki-KEEEEE!”
“I’m not going to hurt you, I promise!”
“WREEEEEEE-eeeer!”
“I don’t even know what I did, I just want- OW! Stop throwing things at me!” Fenora yelled at her changeling as he sat trembling in fear on the roof of the destroyed watchtower.
“What do you mean you don’t know?! You ate its soul Fen! You were there, and it was dead again, and then you slurped down its soul like a mug of cider!” Stross yelled down at her.
“Well the dragon isn’t coming back now. Isn’t that a good thing?” Fenora asked.
Stross hesitated before answering. She did have a point. “It doesn’t make it right though!”
“And what would?” Fenora shouted back, “Do you want me to bring it back to life and give it a big apology hug, huh? Is that what you want? Do you want me to free its soul; should I dig through my intestines, or wherever the ‘Blivion it went to and puke it back up!? Because I can’t do any of those things!”
Fenora huffed and tried to calm herself down before explaining the workings of Nirn.
“Stross, look… I realize that being a… repentant changeling or whatever, means that soul-eating is a big deal for you. But manipulating souls isn’t uncommon here. It might be frowned upon in places, but it isn’t strictly worse than just straight up murdering someone! And besides, people already loot the dead, so if you’re gonna kill someone it’s not unreasonable to steal their… souls… too...”
Fenora then realized how bad that sounded and took a moment to face-palm over her smoothness.
“Okay, bad example but... Actually you know what? I shouldn’t have to justify my actions! Because the fact that I ate that dragon’s soul means that we, and everyone in Whiterun are going to live to see tomorrow. If I hadn’t, it would have just kept coming back over and over until everyone was dead. And trying to contain it would have put everyone in danger anyway. Plus we’d have to hack off all its limbs and chain it up somewhere… and-”
Fenora paused again, realizing that she was trying to justify her actions.
“Stross, please just come down.” Fenora finally begged, she wasn’t even sure that the changeling could hear her voice all the way at the top. “I’m scared. I hate to admit it but I’m really, really scared right now. I don’t know what’s going on with me or what I just did and… and you’re the only one who seems to have the slightest clue.”
Fenora waited, then looked up when she heard the soft humming of bug wings. She reached her arms out to Stross as he descended towards her, and pulled him into her embrace once he was close enough.
For the first time since they’d met, Fenora truly felt as though she understood Stross’s fear of being seen. Even after the stranger in Riverwood had beaten him, it wasn’t quite the same as fear. That was just hostility, a clear right and wrong. But now she had an idea of the loneliness that came with being feared, and also how wonderful it felt when someone was there with you. It gave her a stronger sympathy towards the changeling, realizing this was what he felt all the time.
“Thank you.” Fenora whispered to him.
“You’re welcome.” Stross replied and hugged her tighter, “I’ll help you figure out how you... I'll help you figure it out. Promise.”
Fenora looked at the setting sun on the horizon, then back to the city they'd saved. “We should get back to Whiterun and tell the Jarl that the dragon isn’t going to be a problem anymore.” she said and started to lead the way.
“Oh buck, I completely forgot about Irileth and her guards!” Stross yelled and took to the air in search of them, but in the darkening twilight it was impossible to tell the difference between a person and a rock.
Instead Stross entered his changeling vision again and swept the ground. It wasn’t long before he spotted a single dark blue light, and rushed towards it, calling to Fenora to follow him.
When he landed, Stross realized why he only sensed one life force.
Irileth sat with her eyes closed, propped up against the outer stone wall of the courtyard, closest to the mountains and treeline, and furthest from where the battle took place. All around her were the bodies of her men, even the ones long dead and charred beyond recognition; from the marks on the earth, she had dragged each of them here herself either trying to save them, or to keep their remains from being desecrated any further.
He carefully stepped over them as Fenora arrived on the scene as well.
“Irileth.” He shook her.
The dunmer housecarl’s eyes opened, they were puffy and red, yet she regarded him as coolly as ever. “Are you some monster from Oblivion sent here to kill me? If you are, then make it quick.”
“What-? I’m not- Are you alright?” Stross asked, realizing he forgot to put on a disguise or even his hood first.
Irileth looked at him in confusion, then at Fenora as she approached as well. But then she just shook her head and let her gaze fall.
“I did this. I got those poor stupid fools riled up and told them we were going to win, and then I sent them into a flaming meat-grinder." She choked, "All of my men… they trusted me- they trusted me to lead them and I couldn’t save even one. Not one!”
“Irileth it’s not your fault.” Stross tried to console her, “None of you were prepared.”
“And I knew it. Yet I led them on anyway. What kind of a leader does that make me?” Irileth choked again before looking between Fenora and Stross. “I don’t know how or why you’ve come to us now, but you killed that beast when we could not. That means everyone will be counting on you now. Go. Go back to Whiterun and tell Balgruuf his people are safe… for now.”
“And what about you?” Fenora asked.
Irileth stifled a sob and pulled out her dagger. “Tell them… tell them I died with my soldiers.”
“NO!” Stross yelled and grabbed hold of her wrist trying to wrestle the blade from her hand. Even in her injured state she fought ferociously to keep it, until finally Stross hit her hand with a stun spell and pulled it from her numbing fingers.
He then tossed the blade away and took Irileth’s arm again, this time slinging it over his shoulder and trying to pull her to her feet.
“What- what do you think you’re doing? Let go of me!” Irileth shouted and jerked away from the changeling.
“There’s no way I’m just going to leave you here. Fen, get her other side.” he instructed and kept struggling to lift her off the ground. He wasn’t making much progress with his limited strength, but he wasn’t deterred. “We’re going to bring you back with us if we have to drag you all the way to the gates!”
“No!” Irileth said and pulled away from them both only to stumble and fall to the ground. It was clear now that she’d lost a lot of blood, and was likely delirious. “My men… they’re counting on me. I have to stay with them. I have to.”
Fenora knelt down next to Irileth, taking her turn to try and talk some sense into the grieving dark elf. “Hey, listen to me.” she said as softly as she could, “There’s nothing you can do for them now. I’ve been here, believe me I have, but you can’t just die here. Whiterun will need you as much as it needs us.”
“Y- you don’t understand. They… I was supposed to…” Irileth tried to speak, but couldn’t take it anymore and burst into tears and wailed, “They were my men! I knew them since they were raw recruits! I trained them, I watched them bear their helmets and shields while they took the oath. They were like my sons…. Oh gods, I’m sorry! Erril… Frollo… Ingire… everyone, I’m so sorry!”
Fenora said nothing, and just held onto Irileth as she cried into her shoulder. Stross fell to his knees and joined the mournful embrace as well, and the three of them just sat there until Irileth had exhausted herself from crying, and finally passed out.
Stross sat with his hood pulled over his face, watching the slow, rhythmic rise and fall of Irileth’s chest as she breathed.
Up and down.
Up… and down.
Fenora had patched her up as best she could before they made the trek back to Dragonsreach. The guards had taken her off their hands and brought her to the palace for Farengar to treat. The wounded houscarl now lay on a bed in the wizard’s study with a thick layer of bandages around her right arm, and Stross had just sat there watching for the last…
He didn’t know how long. But time didn't seem to matter to him.
“You do know that idly staring will not help her recover any faster, yes?” Farenger pointed out as he ground up some more herbs.
“Yeah, I know.” Stross answered plainly.
“Well then, if you wish to prevent this sort of unfortunate occurrence in the future, why not do something proactive, and teach yourself a healing spell.” The court wizard suggested. “I have a few old tomes you can borrow for a small fee. They are so simple even a novice mage such as yourself can learn in no time.”
Though offput by Farengar’s usual condescending tone, Stross found himself intrigued. Something like that would be useful.
He got up and sifted through the first pile of books he came across, and eventually found the one he was looking for: Restoration – Healing hands.
Flipping open the yellow phoenix cover Stross found that, like most of Farengar’s work, meticulous notes had been scribbled down on each of the pages; they were scribbled sideways on the edges, diagonally in the corners, and even jotted down between the lines of the actual text.
Stross optimistically hoped that it would provide a bit more insight into learning the spell. Before he could get to reading though, Fenora entered the study.
“Well, the Jarl has been briefed on everything that happened at the watchtower, minus Irileth’s breakdown of course. He says that I might be something called a Dragonborn, able to absorb the power of dead dragons like some of their ancient heroes did in the past. He also told me the Greybeards will know more; they’re a group of old monks living on top of this mountain called the Throat of the World. That means I can find out how I… did what I did to that dragon.” Fenora told him, careful not to use the words ‘Eat’ or ‘Soul’ or any combination of the two.
“Unfortunately, that’s not all.” Fenora continued, her confident smile turning into a frown as she did, “News is spreading through Whiterun about what happened; the dragon attacking the watchtower, us killing it, even the rumor that I might be dragonborn. Jarl Balgruuf is hastily planning for a victory feast as we speak.”
“That’s even better!” Stross cheered.
“And he wants the heroes of the battle to make a public appearance.” Fenora added.
“…That’s even better!” Stross repeated. “Isn’t this great Fen? He wants to thank us for saving them!”
Fenora face-palmed. “Okay, first off, he wants to thank the dragonborn. Me. No one's alive to know you were even there." Fenora told him, to which the changeling visibly deflated. "Don't mope! It's not some kind of prize. He just wants me to stand next to him so he looks good while he gives a big inspiring speech to bunch of people while they gawk! Best case scenario that comes out of this has Balgruuf trying to rally his people for war thinking that if I can take down a dragon, anyone can, which will lead to a bunch of fool-hardy farmers and merchants grabbing swords and charging off to their deaths. OR... at worst he paints me as some all-powerful warrior who’s come to save them all, meaning I’ll have to do all the work!” Fenora seethed, “It's bad enough that I'm their last hope, I have no intention of becoming some public spectacle!”
“Wait… wait wait wait WAIT.” Stross said as he pulled himself off the floor from her verbal typhoon, “Are you saying that you don’t want dozens of people adoring you, and showering you with love and praise and free food? That’s like a dream come true for me!”
“Well then by all means, feel free to take my place in the hero's spot tonight. I’ll be at the Bannered Mare getting drunk enough to forget today. We’ll leave to see the Greybeards tomorrow morning.” Fenora told him, “Oh and… one other thing.”
At that moment she beckoned to someone outside Farengar’s study, and a nord woman in a set of steel armor stepped in and waved hello.
“Stross, this is Lydia. Apparently she’s our protector now.” Fenora introduced them.
“Wow, seriously?” Stross hopped up. “I know we saved the city from a dragon, but they’re actually giving us servants now?”
“Indeed, as Thanes of Whiterun I am bound to your service. I will guard you, and all you own… with my life.” Lydia recited.
Fenora rolled her eyes. “Really hope it doesn’t come to that. But yeah, the Jarl said we did him and his people a service, so now we get our own Housecarl. But I can’t help but feel like there was some ulterior motive behind this…” Fenora said and tapped her chin in thought.
===Earlier that day…===
Jarl Balgruuf stirred in his bed, knowing that despite the sun shining through his window and the birds chirping outside that today would be another long slog of pointless politics. He was proud of his hold, and of its people, but while their central position made them the center of trade in Skyrim, it also meant they were caught in the center of the strife between the Empire and the Stormcloaks.
*Crunch*… *Munch Munch Munch*
Balgruuf’s eyes bulged and shot to the left. Then he sighed when they spotted the source of the noise.
As if bandits and a civil war wasn’t enough, then there was this shit to deal with.
“Hello Lydia.” Balgruuf groaned as he got out of bed.
“Honor to you, my Jarl.” Lydia said, beaming at him before taking another bite from her loaf of bread. It would be endearing had he not heard the exact same thing from her every morning. Now it was just getting creepy.
“Have you been sitting there all night watching me sleep again?” he asked.
“I am sworn to protect you.” She responded stoically and stood up as well.
“Yes I know.” Jarl Balgruuf sighed and walked to the stairs. However, an immovable wall of flesh suddenly materialized in front of him, completely blocking his forward movement. “Darn it Lydia, get out of the way!”
When Lydia had come to them from Solitude, she informed them that she was bound to his service and sworn to protect the people of Whiterun. The Empire had sent her as a small show of faith so he’d favor their side in the war.
Ever since that day, he’d seriously considered joining the Stormcloaks.
“I am your sword, and your shield.” She told him, not moving an inch.
This was going to be a long day, he just knew it.
If only there was some way to get rid of this pest of a protector. If only there was some random hero he could dump her on just so she’d leave him alone, preferably someone who would face constant peril and would possibly need Lydia to make a dramatic sacrifice to protect them.
Little did he know his wish would soon be granted, as two such heroes would soon be knocking on his door.
===Back to the future!===
“Eh, I’m probably just looking a gift Housecarl in the mouth.” Fenora said with a shrug.
“I make sure to brush after every meal, my Thane.” Lydia said and opened her mouth wide in Fenora's face. The bosmer recoiled and quickly pushed her away.
“So… yeah. It’s already dark out, so the party’s probably going to start soon. Do whatever you want with these people and meet up with me when you’re finally sick of it all.” Fenora said to her changeling. “Come on Lydia, let’s sneak out through the prison.”
“You lead, I’ll follow.”
Stross watched her go. He couldn’t believe that she didn’t want to go to a celebration held in her honor. Still, that didn’t mean he was going to miss it. He poked his head outside the study and noticed that people were already showing up.
With a wave of crimson embers boiling up under his cloak, ‘Fenora’ stepped out to join in the festivities.
“Showtime.” Stross whispered.
Less than an hour later, nearly all of Whiterun had shown up. Huge decorative lanterns lit up the room, the long tables were covered with platters of food, and there was even a whole goat roasting on a spit over the main fire.
Guards and servants wandered around the sidelines while groups of townspeople ate, drank, and conversed with one another. Despite the tragedy Stross knew as the battle of the western watchtower, the mood was absolutely electric. No one knew what had happened besides the fact that a dragon had tried to destroy the city, and was stopped before it got the chance.
And that was exactly what Stross was going to let them believe.
“…and then without its wing to keep it in the air, the dragon plowed into the ground, thrashing and snarling while we moved in to deal the killing blow!” Fen-Stross told a crowd gathered around to hear the tale of the battle.
From atop the small round table she stood on, the changeling could feel their awe, amazement and admiration… all directed at her. In her changeling vision, Stross could see the hard shells around their life-forces loosen to let their energies seep out through the cracks. With that many, Stross could skim a bit from each and be set for days without them even noticing!
After a quick feeding, she took a bow and hopped off the makeshift stage, only to be greeted by a pair of huge, muscular men in armor; Farkas and Vilkas, twin brothers of the Companions who had shown up to the celebration like the rest for the tales of glorious battle, as well as the free food.
“Hail Dragonborn. That’s quite a story you told; would have loved to have been in that fight myself.” Farkas said, “Never thought we’d see dragons returning to Skyrim. I’m already looking forward to slaying one myself.”
“We’ll need to get Eorlund to sharpen our swords and reinforce our shields first.” Vilkas agreed with him. “It sounds like those giant lizards can dish out a lot of punishment and take just as much.”
“And to think I once thought you just another traveler.” Aela said as she effortlessly shoved both of them aside to speak with Fenora face to face. “Just wanted to congratulate you on your victory, and to let you know that my offer from before still stands. We could use more people like you in the Companions.”
“It’d be great to have some friends for saving the world. Where do I sign up?” Fen-Stross asked.
“Come to Jorrvaskr and speak to Kodlak. He’s our Harbinger, closest thing to a leader we have in the Companions. He decides who gets in and who doesn’t.” Vilkas explained.
“And with a dead dragon under your belt, Kodlak’s sure to let you in.” Farkas added, giving a thumbs-up and a winning smile.
“It definitely put you ahead of most who apply.” Vilkas admitted with a smirk.
With that the two brothers got to chatting about ways to take down a dragon, most of which involved nothing more than hitting it really hard. Aela also nodded and took her leave, looking at the roasting goat with an almost feral glint in her eye.
Stross looked around at the people gathered, her changeling vision helping to decide who it would be best to approach first. She spotted Ysolda speaking with Arcadia and a priest from the temple, and decided to head there first; Ysolda was really nice after all.
The changeling managed to catch a bit of the conversation as she approached. Their voices were slightly hushed, and would be hard for normal ears to pick out through the noise of the party. Luckily, Stross was far from normal.
“…need you to distill the sap before I can sell it. You’ll get your cut of the profits of course.” Ysolda said to Arcadia, who looked about worriedly.
“I don’t know Ysolda... this is bigger than just skooma or sleeping tree sap, you’re talking about… Eldergleam sap.”
“But you can do it.” Ysolda told her.
“W-well, yes of course I can.” Arcadia stuttered. She was the best alchemist in Whiterun, even better than Farengar. But… “But if we get caught-“
“We won’t. I’ve made sure of everything. Double and even triple-checked my channels; there’s no risk to either of you.” Ysolda assured them.
“This is all speculative anyway.” Danica Pure-spring chimed in, “We still need something to tap the tree, and that means dealing with those awful hagravens at Orphan Rock. If we can’t get that, it won’t matter anyw-“
“Hello ladies.” Fen-Stross cut in, receiving a flustered and panicked response from all three. “Nice night for a party, huh? Whacha talkin’ about?”
“Oh, Fenora. Nothing important really, just the latest beauty tips and local gossip. You know how it is.” Ysolda said, being the first to compose herself.
“Ooh, gossip sounds fun. What’s going on in town?” Fen-Stross asked with a smile.
Ysolda exchanged a look with both of her conspirators that said, ‘let me handle this’. “Well the biggest news currently going around is all about you.” she said with a charming smile, “I can’t believe you actually managed to bring down a dragon singe-handedly. You’ve probably saved us all!”
Stross rubbed the back of her neck with a hollow chuckle. “Well, it wasn’t just me. I had a lot of help from the guards. I really wish I could have saved even a few of them. So besides fire-breathing lizards, what else is new?”
“Well, Fralia Grey-mane’s son was supposedly killed in action, but she believes he’s still alive, and being held somewhere. And there’s also a rumor going around that Saadia in the Bannered Mare is actually some kind of spy in hiding. Then there’s folks worried about the increased prices of cabbage, and the bandits hiding up at-”
“Anything about hagravens and tree sap?” Fen-Stross asked, smirking when she saw each of their frightened reactions. “Maybe something I could help with?”
Arcadia, Danica and Ysloda all gave worried looks to one another, each gesturing for the next to figure a way out of their mess and looking ready to bolt at any second.
“Fenora… right?” Ysolda asked, to which the changeling nodded. She took a breath and fixed her with a serious stare. “I need you to meet us in Arcadia’s potion shop tomorrow morning, and please… please don’t tell anyone about this.”
Stross made a zipping motion across her lips and walked away.
Ysolda and the others let out deep sighs once they thought she was out of earshot.
“I told you we shouldn’t have discussed it here, but do you ever listen to me?” Arcadia snapped.
“Girls, relax. This will either be what destroys our operation completely… or it will be the biggest score we’ve ever had.” Ysolda assured them.
“I hope you’re right,” Danica muttered, “for all our sakes.”
Under the guise of Fenora the Dragonborn, Stross had been able to navigate nearly every group and individual present. For the next hour or so, he took the time to listen and learn about their troubles, which most were quick to simply rant about the second he asked. He was also pleased to note how their disposition towards him became warmer just from him listening to what was troubling them. Maybe the people of Skyrim were hard and cold compared to the ponies of Equestria, but they weren’t thick-skinned or harsh like the griffins, they were just cautious around strangers. Once you’d proven yourself to them and won their favor, they could be just as warm and friendly as the tiny equines he was used to.
Once the party had begun to settle down and everyone had eaten their fill, but before the drinking contests had a chance to get underway, Jarl Balgruuf stood up from his throne and addressed his gathered people.
“People of Whiterun, this is a glorious night worthy of celebrating.” He began. “As you may have heard, the dragons are returning to Skyrim, after having been thought long dead for centuries. Today, these rumors were proven to be true; Helgen was destroyed, followed by the western watchtower, and we lost many brave souls. But in our darkest hour, a hero emerged to save us from these monsters! A hero that has shown that these foul beasts can be defeated, and that we should not fear them, but instead steel our resolve, and show them that the people of Skyrim shall not flee in terror from their wrath! Please welcome to our midst, Fenora Tandis, dragon slayer of Skyrim!”
With the Jarl’s introduction, Stross walked up beside him while the people cheered and hollered. She waved to them and flashed a smile. He could see their souls blaze towards him, but he resisted taking anything more from them just yet.
“Speech!”
“Yes, give us a speech!” they called.
Stross cleared her throat, this was actually the first time she’d given an actual speech. Not only that, but this would likely color their opinion of Fenora for a good while. Stross also had to keep Fenora's concerns in mind, and address them to the crowd without looking weak or cowardly. She’d have to make it good.
“Hey everyone, great party! I’m glad you’re all here and not in a dragon’s belly!”
Well… off to a good start.
There was an awkward pause and a cough somewhere in the audience.
“Well… uh, first I’d like to thank you all for this celebration. I’ve never actually had a party thrown in my honor before. But I’m not the only one you should be thanking for the fact that we’re all still here.” Stross said as her tone turned somber, “Jarl Balgruuf’s houscarl Irileth, and her men were there fighting that monster with me. They fought it with everything they had to protect their city, but Irileth was still wounded in the fight. As for her men… they weren’t even that lucky. Heh, I... I never even got their names before the fight, but... I’ll always remember their sacrifice.
“And you should too the next time you think about hunting one of those things down.” Stross warned them, “Even after everything that those brave men did to make sure we were victorious, it didn’t matter, because these dragons… they’re immortal. The second it died, it just came right back to life. The only reason it’s dead now is because when I killed it the second time, I did something to its soul to keep it from coming back. Something that, as far as I know, only I can do. I’m dragonborn, which means I can keep these things dead when I kill them. So unless you can do the same, don’t try to fight these things. Run, hide... or trap it if you get the chance. But don’t-“
“Oh- okay then. Thank you for the… informative speech.” Balgruuf said and swiftly pulled her aside, allowing Proventus to nervously take over. “What do you think you’re doing?!” he hissed once they were out of sight, “I wanted you to give a speech that would inspire my people, not make them too terrified to leave their homes.”
“I am inspiring them! I’m inspiring them to be smart and not chase after giant flying lizards of death!” Stross snapped, channeling his inner Fenora, “I still have no idea how these dragons come back or how I stop them, and neither do you. There are bound to be more of them out there, so if you want to inspire your people to charge to their deaths against invincible foes, go ahead. The blood can be on your hands.”
“I-… I never meant. Hey! Where are you going?” Balgruuf asked as Fen-Stross turned to leave.
“To bed. Gotta get up early if I want to reach the Greaybeards.” She answered.
However, once the changeling got back into the main hall, she found a scene of chaos. Panic had been building ever since her speech had been cut off, and Proventus had proven quite inept at calming a mob of terrified villagers.
“C-calm down, p-please. Just… state your concerns one at a time in an orderly manner.” He stuttered, trying in vain to keep them under control.
“What are we supposed to do if one of those things comes here again!?”
“How do we kill the dragons if they’re immortal? How are we supposed to defend ourselves?”
“Should we evacuate?”
“Where would we go!?”
“Won’t someone think of the children!?”
Their questions bombarded the meek Steward like a hurricane, becoming more and more desperate with each one until they became demands for action. Then one man blurted out, “Let’s sack the palace and run for our lives!”
And in the hysteria, no one disagreed. They roared their approval and grabbed whatever was sharp, or heavy enough to swing. The Companions had formed a circle in the back, intent on protecting their own. The city guards, who had been barely holding the angry mob back until then drew their swords and raised their shields. It was looking like this party was about to become a bloodbath.
“ENOUGH!” Balgruuf’s voice boomed through the hall, and everything fell into silence. Everyone looked to him, but then he moved aside, and Fen-Stross stepped forward to speak.
The changeling looked at them with the best contempt-filled glare she could muster, flames igniting in her palms and ready to burn her way out if need be. But then she watched as each of them slouched, looked at what they were doing, and dropped their improvised weapons to the floor with looks of shame and regret washing across their features.
If asked, Stross would admit that for a moment, he was afraid the people of Skyrim were actually some kind of savage, bloodthirsty race pantomiming as a peaceful society. He was afraid everything he’d experienced in Whiterun up until that point had been a lie, and that the bandits he’d fought with Fenora were the true example of men and mer. He was afraid that he would have to fight his way out the city only to eventually starve to death from lack of anyone willing to let him feed on them.
These ridiculous fears were immediately vaporized when he looked down upon them all, and they looked up at him. She didn’t even need her changeling senses to see it. In that moment the people of Skyrim had more in common with the ponies of Equestria than he’d ever thought possible. They were being faced with the impossible, lacking any kind of guidance and using courage to keep their heads above the water.
And in trying to keep them safe, Stross had taken that from them as well.
Now they were looking to her, for someone to tell them what they had to do. She had to give them something.
“I know you’re scared,” She said, her expression softening. “And I’m sorry. But these dragons are a very real threat, and I wanted you to take them seriously. I didn’t mean to frighten you into thinking you were doomed; you’re not. Not as long as I’m working to protect you.”
“Then stay here! Don't leave!” one of the townspeople pleaded.
But Fen-Stross shook her head. “How long would that last? I lost a whole team of soldiers the last time I fought one, and I don’t want anyone else to die because of me… or because I wasn’t good enough. You’re looking to me to be some kind of hero, and for you I’ll try my hardest, but I still don’t know enough to defeat these dragons. That’s why I’m going to seek out the Greybeards at the Throat of the World.”
“And what are we supposed to do if a dragon attacks when you’re not here?” an old woman asked, and many murmured in agreement.
“Well for one, have a lot of water around to put out the fires.” Fen-Stross told them, “Second, have some place sturdy and safe to retreat to.”
“The dungeon!” Proventus chimed in with something useful for once. “It’s a bit rank down there, but it’s built strong enough to stop prisoners from breaking out, and it’s made of stone, so fire won’t be an issue. We’d also be able to store large quantities of food down there in case of emergencies. With the right renovations, we could retreat inside and stay there… for a while at least. Well… most of us. Probably.”
“Now we’re getting somewhere!” Stross clapped her hands together before anyone could raise objections, “Make it so you can fit everyone in Whiterun inside, and make sure you can seal it from the inside. Are there any other places like that?”
“Well, the Bannered Mare has a wine cellar if I recall. The hall of the dead could be used, assuming Andurs stops those skeletons from coming back to life. And a few of the homes have basements that could be used as shelters in a pinch.” Proventus listed off, trying to remember which ones he’d sent furnishings to in the past.
“Then prepare those too. Stock them with enough food and water to last at least a few days, and if a dragon comes, run to the safety of the basements and wait until they leave.”
“That’s it?” one of the guards in the crowd asked in disbelief. He looked like a Captain if his armor’s sash were any indication. “You just want us to run and hide from these things?”
“’Run and hide’ is better than ‘burn and die’ in my opinion. So until we find a way for non-dragonborns to kill these things and keep them dead… yes, that’s exactly what I want you to do.” Stross answered.
“It just seems so cowardly. Disgraceful’s what it is.” The Captain spat.
“Well if you want bravery, you can try letting one chase you.” Stross told him. At his confused expression, she clarified, “What I mean is, if you see a dragon coming, you can run out to meet it with the intention of making it focus on you and drawing it away from town. Just be aware you’re essentially being bait with legs if you do this.”
“That’s insane!” the man shouted.
“Trying to fight immortal dragons is insane!” Stross countered. “Which reminds me,” she scanned the crowd for the Companions, “You guys! Yes you, I’m going to need to see you before I leave tomorrow. Now if you’ll all excuse me, it’s been a long day, and I’ve got plans to make.”
Fenora (the real one) sat on a bar stool at the inn known as the Bannered Mare. The fire in the pit behind her crackled a bit as the flames burned low, casting the room into a cozy darkness. She tipped her head back allowing the last dregs of her mead to fall into her mouth before setting the bottle down atop a pyramid made from two dozen of its equally emptied brethren.
She let out a sigh of content, leaned over the counter and shut her eyes.
Then she heard the door open.
She let her eyelids creak open again, and watched her changeling drag himself inside the inn and take a set on the barstool next to her.
“Fen,” he said to her, “you were right; being a public spectacle sucks.”
She chuckled softly and sat up straighter. “Being a hero’s not all it’s cracked up to be?” she asked.
“Actually, being a hero feels great. But trying to convince everyone that they’re going to be okay even though an army of immortal dragons is trying to wipe them out is freaking murder!” he said and slouched over onto the counter as well. “Oh, but I saved you some roast chicken if you want it.” he said and handed her half a bird wrapped in a napkin.
Fenora smiled and took it from him. “Hey cheer up, it could be worse.” she said and nudged him. “You could be the one forced to save them because you got bent over and dry-shafted by destiny to be the only one with magic dragon-killing powers. Now wouldn’t that be a great way to spend your vacation?”
Stross frowned for a moment. Then he realized she was referring to herself, and couldn’t help but smile.
That smile became a chuckle shared by both of them, and before they knew it they were both laughing hysterically, leaning on each other for support as their lungs started to burn. They didn’t even know why they found it so funny, but really, neither of them cared so long as they could have this moment of levity. After everything that had happened since just that morning, they needed it.
“Hey, where’s Lydia?” Stross asked as their laughter finally died down. “Wasn’t she with you?”
“Oh yeah, she’s here.” Fenora told him. She then removed a bottle from the bottom of her pyramid which sent the whole thing tumbling down, revealing their housecarl behind it.
“Honored to see you again, my Thanes.” She greeted them.
“I’m going to go to bed now.” Fenora said with a yawn, “I rented us a room upstairs from Saadia. Of course, the second I got up there she put a knife to my throat and asked if I was followed. But then Lydia held her down while I punched her in the face and we shoved her in the basement together. So you know… I’d call it even.”
Stross blinked.
“Wha-“
“Bottom line, we got our drinks for free. Don’t question a good thing Stross.” Fenora said and headed upstairs, leaving a very confused and concerned changeling behind her.
“It’s true my Thane, if someone attacks you first, you can kill them without repercussions or penalty. Fenora is a very merciful soul to have left her alive.” Lydia said in her sweetly matter-of-fact tone before following Fenora.
Meainwhile, Stross was even more confused and disturbed.
“What the buck is wrong with you people?!”
“Restoration – Healing hands.” Stross read the cover of the book aloud, then noted the scribbled text beneath it reading (Novice level restoration. Cast type: Continuous. Effect: heal other.)
It was the middle of the night, the palace at Dragonsreach had gone silent and people were returning to their homes. Fenora had fallen asleep practically the second her head touched the pillow, and Lydia simply sat near the bedside reading a book of her own.
Stross knew that he didn’t need to sleep, at least not as regularly as ponies or most other sentient creatures; it was one of the few positive traits that came with his race, and he was sure to make full use of it. So seeing as how he wouldn’t be meeting anyone until morning rolled around, he decided to expand his repertoire of spells.
The art of Restoration is one that many take for granted, but is nonetheless an irrefutable field of magic and an essential- neigh, lifesaving skill to hone.
(Best used in conjunction with Alteration spells such as Oakflesh and a bit of common sense to minimize damage received from hazardous situations).One of the simplest spells for the novice mage ^(Besides most minor destruction spells) is the spell quite simply labeled Healing. Healing Hands is a variant of that spell in that it is not cast on one's self, but on another. (There are many other minor discrepancies as well, such as the doubled magika draw involved in channeling magic into another being. But while not specified in this volume, most are negligible on the overall effects.)
As many an aspiring mage may know, magic can be used to restore physical form in many ways, but for typical restoration, the caster is manipulating the flow of their power to repair damage inflicted. In this way it is magically forcing the wound to close, then forcing the body to heal itself. (Though in most cases, the process does not draw on the body's own energy to sustain itself unless large portions of flesh or bone are being replaced by the spell. This makes it superior to most general healing potions, which of course trigger and accelerate an organism's natural ability to heal itself over time.)In order for the healing to work, living flesh must be present. This is why Restoration spells like Healing Hands and Heal Other do not work on the undead, machines, or summoned atronachs. ^(Obviously.) Keep this in mind when choosing something to heal.
Also important, yet unfortunate to note; the dead can not be brought back by healing alone. For a short time after death, a body may be repaired through the use of Restoration magic, but to truly bring a person back to life would require the dark arts of Necromancy, which shall not be discussed in any of my writings.
(Necromancy, like any tool should not be dismissed, just used wisely and with the proper amount of caution.)(Something I've found in my extensive studies is that prior knowledge of anatomy will bolster the effects of Restoration magic. I theorize that knowing how a certain part of the body works will simplify in mind what must be done in order to repair it, thus leading to a more efficient use of magika in order to achieve the same amount of healing potential.)
Stross flipped through the next couple pages, getting a pretty firm grasp on Restoration magic. Farengar's notes and ramblings extended far past the point where the original text ended, and Stross was eager to absorb as much as he could from it. It was hard to understand Farengar's big fancy words sometimes, but the Court Wizard's notes let him get a broader idea of how to use the spell, as well as what worked and what didn't.
He would have to experiment later, but for now he noticed the sky starting to get slightly brighter.
Stepping outside the room from where Fenora was still asleep with Lydia watching her, Stross brought up his disguise again. 'Fenora' then walked out of the inn, knowing she had some people to meet with, and important things to prepare for.