//------------------------------// // Fight and Flight // Story: Changeling Escapades: Skyrim // by Erised the ink-moth //------------------------------// Fenora trudged along the road deep in thought, the sound of her feet hitting the ground loosely syncing up with the flap, flap, flapping just overhead. Stross was still learning how to use his new wings, adjusting the strength of his wingbeats so he could get off the ground, but not painfully rocket himself into the ceiling. At least he was getting used to them quickly. But she was wondering was how it was possible that he got them in the first place. She’d formed a few wild theories so far, though none of them were that solid. Theory number one was simple. When he replaced the horn, Jurgen saw that he was worthy in some regard, and gave him dragon wings. A nice thought, but a bit too easy. Her second theory had to do with Stross being a changeling; they were weird after all, so maybe they absorbed characteristics from whatever souls they ate. Though by that logic, he should have sprouted bunny ears, cat paws, a deer tail, and all sorts of other animal parts from those soul gems she fed him. While that sounded adorably freaky, it didn’t fit. Thus theory number three made the most sense to her, even with her blind leaps of logic. She figured that when she’d unwittingly given up part of her soul to save him, it hadn’t been consumed. Instead that part of her soul, her dragon soul, had fused with him, and that allowed him to acquire the power from Jurgen’s tomb as though he were dragonborn. Heck, for all she knew he might be dragonborn now. Fenora never bothered to ask herself what giving up something as precious as her soul would feel like. But somehow, it was comforting. “Worst case scenario, if something happens to me, the world has a spare dragonborn kicking around.” Fenora chuckled at her dark sense of redundancy. Suddenly a gust of wind hit her from behind, blowing off her hat and whipping her hair into a tangled mess. That was the fourteenth time in under two hours. If she didn’t know better, she’d have said Stross was doing it on purpose. Looking up she saw the changeling diving and looping through the sky, circling over her and Lydia like a flamboyant vulture. “DO A BARREL ROLL MY THANE!” Lydia shouted, and Stross did a quick spinning motion. “No, that was an aileron! Try pressing ‘Z’ or ‘R’ twice!” Fenora shook her head and smiled. “Hey Stross, how close are we to Solitude!? It’s gonna get dark soon.” If he had the time to show off, he could at least act as their navigator while he was at it. “It doesn’t look that far away now!” the changeling’s voice called back, muffled slightly by the wind. “I think we can get there before dark if we hurry! We just need to cross that big bridge near the-“ “What?!” Fenora called. Stross had trailed off and gone silent, whatever he was mouthing was too soft to hear. Suddenly he swooped down and landed right in front of her, nearly knocking her over in the process. His fingers gripped her shoulders and he looked like he’d seen a ghost. “We have to hurry.” Alduin drifted through the ethereal sky, his massive form casting a pitch black shadow over all of Sovngarde. A perpetual haze of his own making obscured the path to Shor’s hall, leaving the souls of the dead to aimlessly wander, forever lost in limbo. Swooping down into the fog he effortlessly plucked the souls of two dozen soldiers and consumed them. Another light snack to regain his strength. “Those foolish mortals,” he thought with an amused chuckle, sensing ever more souls of the dead entering what was now his hunting ground, “so enraptured by their petty conflict, so blinded by pride. My victory shall be swift, unmerciful… and effortless.” Another dive. Another thirty souls in his belly. Then a chime came to him from the mortal world, from his kin that could not follow him into the land of the dead. “Alduin, my liege.” came the voice of Odahviing, one of his most powerful hunters, one of ten he had since risen from death. “Speak Odahviing. What have you to report?” “The others grow restless my lord. They have waited many centuries for their revenge on the mortals. They wish to know when we are to strike, and why we delay. We should decimate them now, while the nords are weak from their conflict.” “FOOL!” Alduin roared through the void. “As ever, your words fail to hide your intent Odahviing. Battle will come with time, you shall find a worthy foe. Of this I have no doubt.” Alduin paused as a pang of frustration rippled through his being. “But so long as the dragonborn lives, I cannot risk the souls of our kin. We must build our forces, continue to search for our priests of old wherever they lie in slumber.” Silence. Hesitation. “Odahviing… there is something else you wish to tell me.” “Lord Alduin… Yolos sensed the dragonborn. He left to pursue her, to strike her down in your name.” “…What? NO!” Alduin shouted, true panic entering his voice for the first time in a very long time. “Fly Odahviing. Stop him! Force our brother to return at once!” As Odahviing broke the connection, Alduin drifted through the void once more, acutely aware of how weightless and alone he was. “Damn you dragonborn…” he muttered. “STOP EATING MY ARMY!” Fenora dodged right as another torrent of flame blew past her. Lydia sprung at the opportunity to land a blow with her axe, and was rewarded with a shower of sparks erupting in her face. The landmark known as Dragon Bridge was certainly living up to its name. “IIZ!” Fenora blasted the first word of Ice Form at the flaming monstrosity. The frozen chunks that formed melted and boiled off in mere seconds, revealing the dragon’s snarling face. Reigniting himself, Yolos charged at her, tearing across the ground on all fours. It was nearly sunset when our heroes arrived at Dragon Bridge in all their haste. It was an old monument made of stone, adorned with a sculpture of a dragon’s skull, and the only thing spanning the Karth River for miles. A small village was budding up around the sawmill built on the opposite side, a tiny collection of houses and an inn. That village was now on fire. The dragon had been waiting for them to arrive, circling the town and spitting fire down upon it, hoping to draw them in. Yolos, he called himself. Stross thought he said something else entirely, some dumb phase about only living once. But in Dovahzul, Yolos meant ‘flame’. And it quickly became apparent why he was called that. “BURN DRAGONBORN!” Yolos roared as he chased her back across the narrow stone bridge, causing great cracks with every step. For an onlooker, it might have looked like Fenora was leading him away from the village so the people could get to safety. Really she was just running for her life. It was clear that there was no way to even get close to him. Yolos had a nasty habit of setting himself on fire, which made attacking him at melee range a trade-off between how much damage you wanted to dish out, and how crispy you wanted your skin to get. Talk about being too hot to handle. When they reached the center of the bridge, Yolos saw his chance. Fenora had nowhere to escape. He sucked in a huge breath and unleashed his most powerful thu’um. “Valinaar Al Yolos!” (Majestic destroyer flame) Fenora glanced back for a split second, and time seemed to slow. She felt the heat before the flame even formed. Her mind raced. Thirty feet of stone bridge in front of her, instant burning death behind. With no better option, Fenora did the only thing that wouldn’t kill her instantly. Jump off. While the bridge above erupted in an explosion of searing heat, Fenora plummeted towards the rock-filled rapids a hundred feet below. She braced herself for the impact and freezing wetness… but it never came. Instead there was just the gentle evening breeze against her face and a pair of arms holding her tightly around the waist; the feeling of Stross flying her to safety. The second they rose up to ground level again, Fenora noted with a mix of relief and pure horror that she had made the right choice. Everything in the path of the dragon’s fire had been burnt a sickly, smoldering black. The rocks were still glowing red from the heat, trees were reduced to charcoal and ash, grass and plants had burned to nothing in an instant. Even the soil was scorched to a crisp. Not even a Whirlwind Sprint would have gotten her far enough to avoid that. “That could have been me.” Fenora thought with her mouth agape. “Fen, how do we beat this hot head?!” Stross asked as he flew higher, noticing Yolos glaring at them from the bridge. “Fuck.” Fenora thought, “Why do I always have to come up with the plan?” Again her mind went to work, trying to piece together something decent. Then she noticed it. Wherever Yolos walked, there were tiny heaps burning on the ground. The fire was too hot even for him, and his scales were burning off in his own fire cloak! She quickly relayed this to Stross. “He can’t stand the heat he’s bringing, so we have to keep him on fire! Let him burn himself out while we keep our distance! Then when he’s burned out, maybe we can move in and finish him off.” It was simple… It was a start… “I’m all over it!” Stross said and lobbed a flashbang that stuck right to the dragon’s face. While Yolos roared and stomped in a frenzy, Stross dropped her off at the top of the waterfall overlooking the town and the bridge. “Stay here and wait for my signal.” He told her. Before she could ask what the signal even was or what she was supposed to do, Stross zipped off again. Fenora watched as he hovered right in front of Yolos and did what Stross did best: pissing off the big baddy. He started spouting insults, nonsense, and puns regarding fire too lame to recount. He wasn’t even done by the time the dragon took a lunge at him, trying to catch Stross in his jaws, fire burning hotter than ever. By then Stross had gotten just what he wanted, and after getting in one last verbal jab, he turned and fled. Yolos shot into the air after him, nearly slamming into the smaller, slower flyer. But Stross was able to evade to the side, ducking and weaving through wing and tail. Stross zipped and darted through the ash-filled air, jets of flame rushing past him as he banked from side to side almost at random to avoid getting hit. For a while that was the game they played, Yolos lunging and swiping and breathing streams of fire, anything to kill the annoying pest. Meanwhile Stross would always be just out of reach, just to the side of where Yolos was aiming. He flew circles around the dragon’s comparatively massive form, constantly darting out of sight and out of reach. While this went on, molten flakes of scale sloughed off Yolos with every movement, every swipe, and every flap. They fell to earth still ablaze, like a flaming snowfall in the setting sun. Then Stross suddenly veered off and started flying towards the waterfall. Fenora stiffened reflexively. He was diving towards her! “Ca-CAW!” he screeched as he scooped her up. “That was the signal by the way!” Fenora grabbed onto whatever part of him she could, and tried her best to not look down as they started climbing higher and higher. “The signal for what?!” “Winning!” he sang. Fenora dared to look below them. The ground was way too far away, and the dragon wasn’t far enough. Yolos pumped his wings furiously to give chase, and with her weighing Stross down, he was getting closer. Stross slowly halted his ascent and chose to simply hang in the air. “What are you doing? What are you doing?!” Fenora jerked in his grip. Stross narrowed his eyes at Yolos like a predator moving in for the kill. “Wait for it.” A stream of fire rushed past them. Stross flapped them slightly higher. “Wait for it…” With a furious roar, Yolos put on a final burst to close the distance. But as he did, his entire body exploded in a cloud of red-hot coals, not unlike Stross when he disguised himself. When the dragon’s body cleared the cloud, the fire was gone, snuffed out. All that was left of the armored scales were drifting in the wind, and the membranes of his wings… those were just gone. Yolos recognized this a second too late. For a moment the three of them just hung there, Yolos in confusion and shock, Stross’s face a perfect picture of smugness. Fenora felt Stross uncoil his arms from around her chest and dropped two feet down onto the still smoking dragon. Time sped back up. The world went back into motion. The dragon started to plummet towards the ground hundreds of feet below. Fenora realized what Stross just did with her. “Kick his ass Fen! It’s all you baby!” Sneering at his annoyingly encouraging voice, and with panic forcing her to think quick, Fenora plunged her sword into the dragon’s chest and held on for the ride. “Stross you cheeky little cockroach, get me off this thing!” Fenora shouted as she fell. The wind whipped up, throwing scale dust into Fenora’s face and eyes. Yolos was somehow still alive, and though the fire was gone, he was still sizzling hot to the touch. The dragon twisted and contorted, trying to brush her off with his wingless arms. Each time she kicked the appendages away. More than once during the freefall her sword dislodged from his chest, and she was forced to plunge it into a new spot so she didn’t tumble off. Then to her horror she felt his mass start to tilt. “No you don’t!” Fenora yelled, and used Unrelenting Force to flip him on his back again. “I’m not getting flattened under your overcooked corpse!” With the ground fast approaching Fenora braced herself for the impact and prayed that she didn’t break anything. Then to her relief she felt something grab her from behind. She held onto Stross for dear life as they abandoned ship, and he squeezed back just as hard. While her changeling carried her to safety, the sounds of Yolos crashing through the stonework of Dragon Bridge rang out from below them. From the snapping sound it made, Fenora was thankful she didn’t make that landing with him. They landed on the side of the bridge opposite of the village, where the soil was burned black from dragonfire. Fenora let out a sigh as her feet met the ground again, and after collecting herself, she turned to see Stross giving her a winning smile. *Slap.* “Ow!” Stross cried out in pain and tubbed his cheek. “What was that for?” “Dropping me onto a falling dragon.” “Sorry, I thought you wanted to finish him off.” Stross whined. “Sooooo,” he asked hopefully, pressing his fingers together, “what do I get for catching you then?” Fenora snorted and gave him a playful slug on the shoulder before walking off to where the dragon lay defeated. Yolos was a pretty sorry sight after the beating they gave him; broken, chest full of holes, charred to a crisp by his own fire, clinging to life by the thinnest of threads. As they approached, the wind picked up, ash filled the air once more, and the sound of massive wingbeats reached them. “Oh you’ve got to be kidding me…” Fenora groaned as a second dragon swooped down and hovered near the bridge, near its kin, silently observing them all. “…Brother!” Yolos called out, using what was surely the last of his strength. “Hiif zey viik daar dovahkiin… ahrk ek duziir pusojur (help me defeat this dragonborn… and her insolent bug).” For a while, the second dragon merely hovered without a word. Then finally it shook its head. “No Yolos. You were foolish to face her alone. I shall not correct your folly. Dragonborn,” he turned to Fenora, “remember the name Odahviing. One day we shall fight, and only one of us will live. Until then… beyz mul. Meyz bahlaan wah luft dii suleyk. (become strong. Become worthy to face my power.)” With that he turned and flew away, leaving Yolos to breathe his last breath alone. “Yeah you better run!” Fenora shouted after him. “I’m totally going to kill that guy later.” She sneered. “Fen look!” Stross drew her attention back to the dragon they’d already slain. Gold embers spread out from the blackened bones, and with the sun’s final rays, the golden light of the dragon’s soul rushed towards them. Fenora leaned in eagerly, wanting to see who it would go to, to find out if her theory was right or not. She wondered if Stross was dragonborn now, or if the new pair of wing were just for show. She wondered if she had enough of her soul left to still be considered dragonborn herself, or if she’d shifted that burden entirely onto Stross. To her surprise, and delight, the light surrounded both of them. Fenora felt what remained of Yolos and his knowledge of fire fill her. Destruction… warmth and light… an unstoppable force fueled by passion and rage. It felt good, and Fenora found herself smiling. But more than that she knew she was still dragonborn, and Stross was too now. They’d killed another of Alduin’s army and saved a small village in the process. Today was a good day. She glanced over at Stross, about to congratulate him on their victory. But seeing the look on his face made her pause. There was no cheer in him, no look of revelation at the knowledge the dragon’s soul had given them. There was only horror, and horrible guilt. “Stross?” Fenora asked cautiously. Tears ran down the changeling’s face as he stared at his hands. His black scales free of blemishes and shining in the setting sun, the signs of a changeling that was well fed. “Wh-what am I?” he asked with a deep quiver in his voice. “What am I Fen?” Fenora draped an arm around his shoulder and pulled him into a hug. “You’re my friend Stross.” She told him with certainty. “No matter what happens.” The sound of splitting stone rang out. It grew louder and louder, like an avalanche under their feet until finally the mid-section of the stone bridge gave way and collapsed, taking what was left of Yolos with it. Two tons of dragon and solid rock splashed down into the river below. On the other side of the bridge stood Lydia with a worried look on her face, as well as several villagers with less than happy expressions. Stross huddled behind her to hide from their glares. “Aw crap.” It was dark now; the sun had set hours ago. Fenora and company were making their way towards the city of Solitude, relying on the pale light from the moon to get there. The sound of wolves howling in the distance kept them on edge as they walked, despite the road being a fairly straight shot to where they were going. She’d have gladly kicked in ten gold to stay at the inn at Dragon Bridge, then make the walk to Solitude in the morning. But no. “Stupid ungrateful villagers.” She thought angrily, “Of course they’d be more focused on how we broke their stupid bridge, and not how we saved their lives!” She guessed it was lucky they let them leave without a fight. While she would have personally enjoyed beating the stupid out of every single one of them, she didn't think Stross shared her sentiment. And right now, her changeling had a lot on his mind. “Hey Fen… sorry I got us in chased out of town.” Stross apologized. Fenora rolled her eyes. The damage was done long before they got a look at his dragon wings and black scales and cute little fangs. “Don’t worry Stross. It’s not your fault these people don’t know how to welcome a hero." she told him. "Still... You can hide those wings, right? We really don’t want to cause problems in Solitude.” She could already imagine bounty hunters chasing them across all nine Holds. Stross flapped them a bit, wincing at the noise they made. Where his old wings were thin, flimsy things that could be folded up neatly inside his shell, these new ones were much more awkward. They weren’t huge, only about the size of two medium shields, and Fenora was surprised they could carry him in the air like they did. But they still took up a lot more space. “I uh… I dunno. Hold on a second.” Stross awkwardly fidgeted while he walked. He quickly gave up trying to wrap them around his shoulders, and switched to folding them as against his back as tightly as he could. Once that failed too, he finally let out a defeated sigh and engulfed himself in red flames. “Well, this will have to work. What do you think?” When the flames flickered out, Fenora found she was looking at herself. Then she was suddenly looking away from herself. “Stross! What did I say about turning into me?” she yelped while covering her eyes. “Don’t worry, I can use my other forms too. I’m just testing this modified disguise to see if it actually hides my new wings. Your body is nice and familiar, so there’s less chance I’ll mess it up.” Stross said in her voice. Ignoring the fact that he was already familiar with her body… somehow, Fenora peeked through her fingers. Sure enough, his disguised form lacked wings of any kind. Only now there were two other things that people were bound to notice. “Looks great Stross. You can change back now.” Fenora said, covering her eyes again. “One thing first!” Stross said, causing her to groan. “Like the rest of my forms, this is just an illusion; my wings are still here, they’re just invisible.” “Really? You can’t just, y’know… changeling them away?” she asked. Stross gave her a light smack with his now invisible wings, and Fenora was forced to look back at her naked counterpart’s frustrated frown. “Have you been paying any attention when I tell you stuff? Yes it’s all fake. Only changelings who have harvested a huge amount of love can perform a true bio-shift; illusions are just cheaper to cast, even invisibility.” “So you’re telling me that all this is fake right now.” Stross nodded firmly. Fenora felt wrong even thinking about what she was about to do, but her curiosity was too great. She reached out with both her hands. Soft yet firm… smooth and warm… jiggled in just the right way. Gods, they even got hard when she rubbed them with her thumbs. “Stross… are you absolutely sure this is just an illusion? These seem disturbingly real.” Stross rolled her eyes and suddenly Fenora’s hand fell straight through a layer of magic embers, hitting against smooth chitin on the other side. “It’s because I want you to think it’s real. I can make it feel like something’s there when it’s not, or make it feel like it’s not there when it is. But all of me is still here, and that means-” Fenora felt her head being lightly smacked again. “my wings can still hit stuff! “I need to be really careful from now on. And I’m counting on you and Lydia to help cover for me if something goes wrong, okay?” “You can count on us, Stross.” Fenora told him. “But you might start by putting some clothes on.” Stross’s smile turned into a wry grin. “It’s getting pretty dark out. Are you sure you don’t want to play with yourself some more?” “Stross…” Fenora breathed stiffly. “Go get dressed. We’ve got like ten outfits in the cart to choose from. Pick one and wear it!” Stross chuckled, never losing that impish grin. “Sheesh, alright already. If I didn’t know better, I’d say you’re uncomfortable with your body.” “Only when it’s being worn by someone else!” She countered as Stross went to Lydia and their cart of loot. Fenora was glad to see Stross being playful again, but she really wished he could have copied someone else. The temptation was almost too great. With her back turned and her feet firmly planted where they were, Fenora chanted over and over in her head, “I’m not going to stare at my own ass. I’m not going to stare at my own ass. I’m not going to stare at my own ass. I’m not going to-“ “Lydia! Your nose is bleeding!” Stross gasped behind her, and Fenora couldn’t help break out laughing. Eventually they spotted the torchlight of guards standing watch over the main gate. Stross put his disguise up, and slipped into a fancy red tunic. He had to slice some holes in the back for his wings, and let them hang limp to fit under his cloak, but after a lot of struggling, he was finally ready to go. Remarkably, the guards didn’t give them too much trouble. Fenora protested handing over their weapons, but Stross talked her into it. After the incident where Ulfric murdered High King Torygg, no one but the city guards and soldiers were allowed to carry any kind of weapon with them, not even a knife, not even a frozen mackerel! After making it inside the gates, they made their way through the darkened streets to an inn by the name of The Winking Skeever. That just had to be an innuendo for something. Everyone but the inn’s nightkeeper was asleep at this hour. But all the same, they paid the man the usual ten septims and walked up to their room. Now… it should be noted that the inns of Skyrim are all generally well kept. But Solitude always had to be a cut above in everything they did, fanciness and high society, all that jazz. That meant polished wood floors, the finest furniture, having those bottles of water that cost extra if you drink them (seriously, what’s up with that?). And of course… *Whumph!* Beds you could sink into for days. “Aaaaaaahhhhh.” Fenora let out a contented sigh as she let the mattress swallow her. “So,” Stross said, sitting next to her, “what’s on the agenda for tomorrow?” “You mean besides sleeping in ‘till noon?” Fenora asked with a laugh. “I guess we could visit the Bard’s Collage. So many traveling minstrels have told me about that place, I almost want to humor them and see what the fuss is about.” “There’s also the Blue Palace, my thane. My cousin serves as a housecarl to the Queen. I’m sure she could take the time to give us a tour of the city.” Lydia told her as she stashed their loot inside a wardrobe. All of it. In one wardrobe. “That sounds great. We’ll start there,” Fenora said with a yawn, “and figure out the rest as we go. So Stross, who’re you sleeping with tonight, me or Lydia?” Fenora was expecting him to follow up on her obvious dirty joke, or at least get a blush out of him, but instead he just looked off in thought for a moment. “Actually, I think I’ll take a little fly around outside the city. Changelings don’t need to sleep anyway.” He said before heading to the door. “Stross, you alright?” Fenora already knew him well enough to know something was up, even when he tried to assure her otherwise. “Just be careful out there, okay?” she told him, and he nodded. “Alright… I’ll see you tomorrow then.” Stross left them, and Lydia flopped into the bed next to hers. Fenora told herself not to worry. There were a lot of things she needed to talk with Stross about, not least of all finally confessing what happened at Bleak Falls. But that could all wait until morning. With that thought in mind, Fenora closed her eyes, and slowly drifted off to sleep.