Chapter II: Black Wings In The Cold

(Reyvin's POV)

Complete silence descended upon the central square of Helgen.

My sudden entrance and the question that followed it stunned most people on the imperial side and even a good number of the Stormcloaks, judging by the gaping of what I presumed were the newer recruits. Most of the idiots probably didn't even know Ulfric had a son.

Just as planned, the usual reaction to my existence gave me a perfect opportunity to give my long-missing apprentices a quick once-over.

Both looked greatly changed by their abrupt adventure, both their auras and postures now giving the impression of seasoned travelers and warriors instead of the bumbling young adults that left Winterhold about a year ago.

Marco completely embraced his origins as an elf from Skyrim, growing a short braided beard and wearing a very Viking-esque chainmail and gambeson combo, with the addition of a large cloak of dull yellow embroidered with decorative Nordic runes.

His lute was in perfect condition and even seemed to have slightly adapted to him going by the light hum of Magicka simmering from within, while his blade, one of the Gauldurssons' weapons if I remembered correctly, had its grip replaced and its blade repaired with the hands of a master.

He even seemed respectably built now, not that that would free him of his status as the elven twig of the group.

As much as Marco looked changed, Minthara outright looked like a different person.

Whatever instruction Titus provided her with left her projecting a sense of confidence and certainty, almost beckoning those around her to look at her and listen when she spoke. The scared and confused teenager I found in the slums of Solitude years ago was well and truly gone, replaced with a young woman who looked ready to take on the world.

Also gone was her mismatched armor she either got from me or pilfered from the expedition to Blackreach, and in its place she now wore knightly plate armor over robes of black, crimson, and gold, proudly displaying her heritage to all who knew to look. Truly, she was the image of a warrior noble. Or she would have been had she not just threatened a man with force-feeding him his own genitalia.

A Nordic warrior noble then.

She even took it a step further, wearing a red cloak with the sigil of House Septim covering a good chunk of its surface, and it was positioned perfectly for Elenwen to see it in its entirety which brought me great amusement.

But what truly drew my attention was the blade at her hip. At first glance, it looked like the usual Blades katana, but only a slightly deeper look allowed me to see the many soul fragments within, many of them actively looking at the other people present and were seemingly ready to react in some way should anything happen.

One of the souls was even trying to stare at me, not that it would ever manage to pierce my shroud but it was interesting to know they could take cues from their wielder.

The unusual new toy made my 'inspection' last just a split second longer than originally planned, leading to my focused gaze snapping her out of her surprised state and directing a glare of such fury at me I could actually feel the heat of it all the way here.

Ah, it would seem my shenanigans were about to catch up to me.

'Distraction go!' I ignore the furious demigod as my eyes snap to my dearest Ambassador friend. The smile I give her in greeting sends chills down her spine as I spread my arms and start approaching her as if to offer a hug "Elenwen, my dear!" I exclaim, she outright flinches "My world was darkened with your constant absence!"

Her assistant, an Altmer male wearing the signature robes of a Justiciar, looks at me like I grew a second head, and almost falls on his ass in surprise as he sees his boss stuttering in fear as I approached her as if to embrace an old friend.

She panics for a moment but quickly composes herself "A pleasure as always Lord Dagoth." She forces out, not sounding all that pleasured "But I am afraid I have no time for pleasantries, by your leave."

Being a generous soul I nod and let her run with her tail between her legs. By the time she heard of my dealings with Narsis, she understood that I was someone who went well above her paygrade now and she was now just a pretty little ornament in the icy lands of Skyrim, here only for the sake of her superiors' pride.

Oh, they could have escalated the situation and attempted to remove my influence in some convoluted plot, there was no doubt about that. I'd just have made them bleed for it if they did, and while the Thalmor may be fanatics, not even they were foolish enough to pay the blood price needed to dislodge me.

So we entered an unspoken truce, they got their golden shiny asses of my damn lawn and I stopped repeatedly humiliating them and butchering their expensive toy soldiers every time I could get away with it.

Which was always.

I sigh dramatically and turn to the gaping crowd "How very shy she is."

Tullius, hiding an obvious smirk of vicious amusement, grunts in affirmation but his job came first "What did you mean by your earlier statement?" He asks for clarification.

I point to the mouthy nobleman "That one, goes by Skirnir. His dumbfuck of a father sent him out on a suicide mission to block the Pale Pass to 'prove himself a true Nord' or something equally inane." I give the kid a look of pity "He didn't even want to be here, but peer pressure does its thing, as always."

The Stormcloaks all turn very irate at my words but none are quite so lacking in the self-preservation department as to try and provoke me. Stormcloak propaganda may paint me as some maddened butcher but it did serve its purpose when it came to shutting people up.

"How could we have missed this?" Tullius asks with a frown, already giving the young man a once over to confirm my words.

"Don't sweat it" I wave him off "Ulfric may be deluded but he has been planning this for a long time. The recent losses must have stung his horde's pride a bit so he had to reveal something positive to them, like having an heir, and he could not do it if said heir had no achievements to his name."

"I see." Tullius gives Skirnir a look of genuine pity, making him once again become red faced "We will ensure he does not escape."

"See that you do." I offer him a nod of acceptance and while he gets his legionaries to tighten up security so that they can go through the proceedings, I approach the others.

Marco grins widely as he sees me coming and offers a handshake that I accept just as quickly "Finally stopped being a spindly little twig, have you?" I ask in jest.

"I have indeed!" He taps his armored chest "Now the ladies are truly unable to resist me!"

"You still didn't get any in Cyrordiil, did you?" I deadpan and he stumbles, clutching at his heart as if struck.

Shaking my head approach the still fuming Minthara with a shit-eating grin "Why if it isn't her ladyship herself?"

Her nostrils flare and just as she is about to point her finger at me and no doubt yell at me I sidestep it and offer a quick hug, whispering in dovahzul as I did so "Prepare yourself" She stiffens at the sudden change of tone but quickly nods, her hand twitching toward her sword as nervousness sinks in.

The little Imperial agent that seems to be following her around watches me like a hawk with a deep frown, whatever she learned about me led her to be very confused with my behavior and she was no doubt allowing her well-trained paranoia to get to work in analyzing me.

I had reached such a high level of bullshit, I no longer needed to purposefully torment those around me!

The sound of Tullius talking draws our attention to the central square once more, just in time to find him standing in front of the captured rebels while surrounded by his guards "And as such you are to be held captive for the duration of the uprising, your fates shall be decided by the lawfully elected High King after everything settles."

He gives Ulfric's son a pointed look "And no, you won't be getting heroically executed. Butchering every member of an uprising is neither wise nor is it productive." Leading to even more embarrassment for the man.

He goes on to speak further but a distant roar stops him in his tracks, his eyes immediately snap to me "What was that?"

"Evacuate everyone and have the troops man the scorpions." I answer immediately, the anticipation already building up within me as my mind goes over all of my preparations for this, the most auspicious of days.

'Thank fuck nobody can hear your cringeworthy thoughts.' Scorch deadpans.

Tullius does not wait for further explanation and starts barking orders, the prisoners get immediately manhandled toward the central keep, quickly followed by all non-combatants in reach. Many such scenes repeated throughout the town as suspicious masked figures started dragging whoever was dumb enough to still be dawdling deeper underground.

The roar resounds once again, inducing bone deep fear in most of those who could hear it.

"What is happening?!" A slightly panicky Marco asks while shaking my shoulder, though even through his panic he still held his sword at the ready.

Instead of answering him, I look at Minthara with a grin I did not notice appearing on my face "Destiny has come."

For a brief moment, I see her pale in fear, but that lasts for a single flicker before she draws her sword, its orichalcum blade alight with the power of an unfamiliar enchantment, and readies herself.

Once again, the roar assaults our hearing, even closer than before.

"Whatever it is, it is approaching us fast!" Marco states the obvious.

Junia gives Minthara a look as if to suggest a retreat but that only earns her a death glare from the demigod.

My limbs quiver in anticipation, and Scorch, the absolute madlad, starts chanting the song of the Dragonborn through our connection.

With a sonic boom that sends most of us reeling to the ground, a massive black blur smashes into one of the distant towers, being almost of the same size, and bursts through the other end, ruining it utterly in the process.

And as if that were not enough, the twat flies up into the air, his massive pitch-black form blotting out the sun with his mere presence. His aura presses onto my mind and body without him doing anything and I know then and there that, no matter how weakened, I was in the presence of a god.

And then he speaks "STRUN MAH GOLZ YOL!" His words shake the very earth and set the skies on fire as a rift opens right above the town, disgorging hundreds of flaming rocks on our heads.

My hands are already moving, summoning wards, slapping the rocks away with telekinesis, summoning shades to rescue those that get trapped, and activating the reinforcing enchantments I placed under the ground weeks ago, just buying enough time for everyone possible to get out of the way before the real battle started.

It took the rest a bit longer to gather their courage, a mere couple of seconds without any retaliation to the creature that just ruined half of the city with four words (and wasn't that a pleasant surprise?) but as their guts returned to them, bolts and spells started flying at the godling flying above us, most of the attacks getting outright bounced off his scales.

Lucky shots still happened, and the apocalyptic fuck was still too cautious after ripping his way through the time wound, allowing us to complete the evacuation of the non-combatants by the time he realized we were doing no real damage.

A grinding noise that sounded suspiciously close to mocking laughter shook the ground once again "You do not flee Joore..." The voice of death itself came from every direction "You may entertain me yet!"

And with that, he lunged!

Right into my proverbial jaws.

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SUN MAH GOLZ YOL = Storm Fall Stone Fire

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YOU THOUGHT YOU COULD ESCAPE!?

FOOL!

*Doubles stone tax*

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