Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

All Vallitha could think as she swung her conjured blade across Miraak’s chest amidst a spray of blood, with Apochrypha rumbling ever so slightly, was that she was tired, the lengthy, cataclysmic battle with the First Dragonborn having drained her.

She watched Miraak stagger back into the central altar-like pool with a weary gaze, the circular pool of black water splashing around his ankles. The ancient man had no more dragons whose souls he could consume to heal, no more power to call upon. Her exhausted mind thought back to when she had first found out about her power, their shared destiny of ambition, with the dragon outside Whiterun. When she first felt her Draconic Soul in her mortal form. Over two years ago, when her journey for more power began, the power that was needed to defeat the Black Dragon, the World-Eater, the Eldest. Her desperate need for more power, that fear she was not strong enough, drove her to accept every deal with the Daedric Princes she encountered. Over a dozen claims to her very soul, that she could feel even now, pulling at it in so many directions, making her feel like she was on the brink of unraveling. Becoming their champions: the Listener of the Dark Brotherhood, a Nightingale of Nocturnal, the wielder of Molag Bal’s mace, Malacath’s Volendrung, Meridia’s Dawnbreaker, Azura’s Star, and yet more. She made her way through the Holds, helping and solving problems where she could to hone herself and find more opportunities to become stronger, becoming a Thane in each one in the process, even the Arch-Mage of the College. She even ended the Civil War, putting down Ulfric and his rebellion, despite hating that the entire conflict had been a ploy for the Thalmor to keep the Empire weak, and became a Legate in the Imperial Army in the process.

Then the choice she made to accept the twisting of her essence into a Vampire, a Creature of the Night, because it had been the best option for getting into the Soul Cairn. She still wasn't sure whether or not she regretted that decision. It was only after the fight with Serana against Lord Harkon that she thought she’d done enough, learned enough Dovahzul, killed and consumed enough dragon souls. She had then forged and enchanted her custom Dragonbone-Daedric armor. She had mastered the schools of Magic and her Vampiric nature. Then and only then had she believed she stood a chance against the God-King of Dragons, Alduin.

The battle had been brutal—a harrowing experience, even with the very warriors of Sovngarde at her side. By the end, her throat had been bleeding from the amount of the Thu’um she’d used, coughing up blood. Her armor damaged, magicka drained, intensely burned from the Voice of the World-Eater, but she had won. Banishing the black beast’s soul from this time.

She’d thought she had been done after that, no more world-ending threats. She had been hailed as a hero, but she knew what she was, what she had done. Barely better than the monsters she had been fighting; that was the person she had become in her desperation. She had recuperated, repaired her armor with bone and scales from the World Eater himself, taken lighter jobs, and rested at Lakeview Manor. Then, a few months later, she had been attacked by strange cultists in bone masks when in Falkreath. This led her to the island of Solstheim, and then to the First Dragonborn, leader of the Ancient Dragoncult, now an eternal servant of Hermaeus Mora, who rebelled against his Daedric Lord to return to Nirn and reclaim what he had lost in the Merethic Era. It was only recently that she realized how much of herself she had given up for power, and she was… uncomfortable with the similarities she saw with her fellow Dragonborn. 

Not because of his thirst for power, but because he had made himself a servant, a slave to gain even more. It was then that she realized how truly a dragon she was in mortal flesh. It brought back memories of her conversations with Paarthurnax, of what he had once said, “Dov wahlaan fah rel. We were made to dominate. The will to power is in our blood. You feel it in yourself, do you not?”

She knew at that moment what the Elder Dragon truly meant, and felt a distinct, aching wish to be back on the Throat of the World with him, meditating on the Thu’um to the silence on the top of the world. To not have so many chains weighing her down.

‘I am as much a fool as he is,’ Vallitha thought to herself as a dark tentacle burst from the pool Miraak was standing in and impaled him from behind, lifting him a few feet in the air as he gasped wetly, arms half spread at his sides. She let her bound sword fade back into Oblivion, waiting for Hermaeus Mora to finish it. Her eyes drifted to the corpses of the three dragons scattered around the plane of Apochrypha, which had become their battlefield, skeletal forms draped over malformed platforms stacked with seemingly endless books.

The Daedric Prince's voice echoed out, slimy and slightly hard to understand, as eldritch rifts opened in the air over the two Dragonborn, displaying a single large eye surrounded by tentacles in the center rift and countless tentacles writhing from the others.

“Did you think to escape me, Miraak? You can hide nothing from me here; no plot can remain hidden from the master of Secrets." Vallitha felt Mora's many-eyed gaze upon her and suppressed a shiver. "No matter, I have found a new Dragonborn to serve me.”

A wet, weak snarl escaped Miraak’s mask as he spat, “May she be rewarded for her service as I am!”

Vallitha felt a familiar surge in her soul and watched as Miraak’s flesh began to disintegrate, the twisting blue, white, and orange energy from his corpse surging towards her as she absorbed his soul alongside the many dragon souls he had consumed. She found herself strangely amused at his final words, faintly disgusted that she had become a slave in all but name. It was an odd mixture of emotions.

She turned her focus away from the influx of yet more power as Hermaeus Mora retracted his tentacle and let the skeletal remains of the First Dragonborn drop, still garbed in his fine battle-mage's robes, and began to speak, a small gazebo-like structure rising out of the pool Miraak had just died in. Vallitha clearly spotted an open Black Book resting on a pedestal inside. 

“Miraak harbored fantasies of rebellion against me. Learn from his example. Serve me faithfully, and you will be richly rewarded. You have already been a faithful servant of the other Princes; what is one more?”

Vallitha approached the Black Book, so very tired, resigning herself to yet another claim on her exhausted soul. She pushed down the despair and tried to ignore the part of her soul that screamed in draconic rage of being forced to serve another again, under the watchful eye of the Daedric Prince of Fate, Knowledge, and Secrets.

Just a few steps from the book, she felt a burning surge from the oldest claim on her soul, the one she had felt the longest, the one that did not feel wrong or intrusive, and staggered from the force, noticing the Daedric Prince shift from assured satisfaction to surprised disbelief. 

“What-,” was the only thing the godlike being managed to utter before Apochrypha trembled yet again, far stronger this time.

And then Oblivion itself shuddered, and Vallitha’s vision was filled with dark purple, black, and bits of gold, feeling something within her change, before she knew nothing more. 

***

Byleth was having a strange day. That, in and of itself, was certainly not an outlier. She was a mercenary, and having strange days was practically part of the job. First, she had a peculiar dream-or maybe it was a nightmare, she was not sure- of a battle in a war she had not ever been a part of, one she’d never even heard of, at least not in recent memory. It had not been the first time, but then it had... changed. She then encountered a strange green-haired girl with pointed ears atop a throne in an empty void, having an odd conversation about her name and their shared birthday.

The void had then distorted around the two of them, shifting into unfamiliar landscapes and images even the strange girl seemed confused by. A windswept tundra covered in snow, surrounded by mountains, with a herd of massive lumbering beasts wandering through with thick brow fur, large ivory tusks, and a strange limb on their face, escorted by massive men like cattle weilding clubs of bones of great beasts or entire trees, wearing patched together hides. A large open plain, covered in golden grass, the expanse only broken by stone roads, farms, windmills, and a large walled town built on a large hill, with a grand keep at the top looming over the walls, a gargantuan mountain in the distance that loomed over the plains, its top disappearing into the clouds. A huge stone and wood city perched on a cliffside of mountains near the sea, a large port just underneath, with large walls with red banners and a stylized wolf's head Byleth had never seen before, alongside a diamond-shaped symbol that resembled a wyvern. An ancient stone city near the mouth of a freezing river near the sea, a bridge over the water leading to its great gates, large banners of dark blue with a stylized bear head alongside a stylized elk head, which Byleth again did not recognize. A great winged black beast flying above a burning town of stone and wood, breathing fire and speaking a strange language as flaming stones rained from the dark sky. It resembled a wyvern but was far, far larger and much stronger looking, with a terrible intelligence in its glowing red eyes. The girl looked at the images with wide eyes, but before Byleth could ask anything, she found herself jerking awake and having a short conversation with her father, Jeralt. Then, they were suddenly alerted to the arrival of three young individuals, and soon after, bandits were nearing the village they were staying in.

She then went straight to work with her father to kill the bandits and protect the village and the young nobles they were pursuing, putting her dreams and the images of the strange land aside. The young trio joined the fight against the criminals, aiding her and her father in eliminating them, and an odd amount of surprise welled up within her at their obvious skill and potential. 

After a majority of the bandits had been dealt with, the bandit leader, Kostas, suddenly got back up, charging at the only girl among the young nobles, a young woman named Edelgard, with striking white hair, lavender eyes, and a small stature, which belied the great strength she had demonstrated. 

Seeing that Edelgard had been disarmed earlier and had no weapon, only drawing a small dagger from her hip as Kostas charged, Byleth moved, mind going blank at the sudden desire to save Edelgard, shoving her out of the way and putting herself in the path of the axe.

Which was where she found herself now, time seeming to slow as the axe closed in, before stopping altogether. Then everything around her seemed to lose color, and Byleth was suddenly back in the void with the throne, blinking in confusion, looking up at the girl on the throne who was leaning against one of the armrests, her head propped up on a hand, and seemed… less than pleased. 

“Honestly!” the girl in the odd ornamental outfit spoke out, sounding irritated. “What were you hoping to accomplish with that little stunt?! It’s like you’re trying to get me killed, you fool!”

Byleth could only look at her in bewilderment, having thought she was only a dream figure, before looking down, not entirely sure why she did it either.

The girl on the throne simply sighed before continuing, “Well, it’s fine. After all, if you don’t know the value of you’re own life, you’re not going to protect it very well, are you? Course not,” the girl giggles slightly before standing up from the throne, stepping forward to the stairs of the raised dias the throne was on in the void, “Well then, I guess it’s up to me to guide you from now on, right? You can call me Sothis… but I’m also known as the Beginning.”

Byleth remained silent as she watched Sothis, who hummed, crossing her left arm across her chest to rest her right arm on it, tilting her head, and resting it on her hand, eyes closed.

“Yes,” Sothis continued, sounding a bit happier, “Yes, that is it. My name is Sothis. And I am also called The Beginning. Who once called me that…?”

Byleth finally managed to recover somewhat, feeling oddly unbalanced in a way she had never experienced before, but only managed to speak a questioning, “Sothis?”

Sothis nodded, opening her eyes and letting her arms drop as her strangely old gaze rested on Byleth once again. “I was not able to recall my name… until now. And just like that, it came to me. How odd,” Byleth could not help but stare, and Sothis’s eyes narrowed slightly. “That look upon your face… did you think me a mere child? A mere child who forgot her own name?!” The girl made a disbelieving sound before continuing. “That ‘child’ just saved your life! What does that make you?”

Byleth blinked a bit before replying, “Less than a child?”

Sothis had a small, amused smile on her face as she responded, “Correct! It’s good you understand. You threw yourself in the path of that axe to save one girl. Yet all is well, as I have stalled the flow of time. For now. You would have died if not for my intervention.”

“You stopped time?” Byleth could not help but question, completely out of her element, but that response only earned a quiet hum and narrowed eyes yet again.

“That is not gratitude I hear from you,” Sothis said, a reproachful tilt to her tone, “Perhaps I should force you to leave?” Byleth quickly bowed, causing Sothis to regain her small smile, “There now, is gratitude so much to ask? I did deem you worth saving, after all. Though it is only momentary, time has stopped. However did I manage that…?”

Byleth’s stance shifted, the only outward display of the new slight nervousness those words gave her, readjusting her grip on her sword, before asking, “What now?”

“When time begins again, the axe will tear into you, and you will surely perish,” Sothis responded with unusual, unnerving calm, before her tone became more frustrated, “How rude of you to drag me into this! Now what to do…”

Byleth suddenly felt a little bad, realizing she had not put only her life on the line but also Sothis’s, despite how little she knew the strange girl and how odd this situation might be.

“I am sorry,” Byleth began, feeling the need to apologize, bowing slightly. “I didn’t know it was not only my life at stake here.” 

Sothis's smile became more gentle at the apology, waving it away, “No need for apologies, as I have said, if you didn’t know the worth of your own life, why would you protect it as you should.” 

Byleth paused for a moment, considering all that Sothis had said, and tentatively asked, “If you possess the ability to stop the flow of time, could you perhaps reverse the flow?”

She considered what Byleth said for a moment before brightening, “Of course! I must turn back the hands of time.” 

Suddenly, a large golden magic circle appeared in front of Sothis, with a strange Crest in the center and lined with runic sigils. “Yes… I do believe it can be done. You are quite the troublesome human. I cannot turn back time’s flow too far, but all is well. You are aware of what is to come and can properly protect yourself this time.”

Sothis made a few motions with her hands as the magic circle spun a bit before her, and then she continued in a very serious tone, “Now, go… Yes, you who bears the flames within. Drift through the flow of time to find the answers that you seek.”

Byleth stepped back slightly as the void seemed to shift and warp around, only catching Sothis blinking a few times in slight confusion, before her brow furrowed, and Byleth found herself back to moments before. Edelgard stood nearby, disarmed, and Byleth was already moving by the time Kostas was up and charging at the young woman. Byleth slid to a stop in front of the girl and easily parried Kostas’s wild swing before throwing him several feet onto his back. 

Byleth turned her head slightly, hearing approaching footsteps, and saw that Claude and Dimitri had joined Edelgard behind her, Dimitri handing Edelgard her recovered weapon. She took a moment to take in the fact that the fog that had colored her life before this had lessened, as well as the unusual feelings bubbling to the surface. Until now, her life had felt like a haze, moving from one battle to another, only feeling truly present when in a fight. Everything else had been a fleeting moment, aside from the moments she shared with her father, the numbness starting to fade. She wondered if Sothis had anything to do with that.

Shaking her head of idle thoughts, she forced herself to refocus. As she turned back to face the bandit leader, who had since gotten to his feet, everyone paused as they heard what sounded like a large crack of thunder above them, despite the clear night sky. Glancing up, they saw a large burst of purple energy littered with some gold high in the sky, like a crack in reality, before they registered a rather large person-shaped object falling directly towards them from the quickly vanishing rift.

“Move!” Byleth quickly shouted, moving the three nobles back as they quickly followed her command, the slightest of unfamiliar panic coloring her actions. Kostas himself also scrambled back in the opposite direction, as the object then made a heavy impact with the ground, cratering it and sending up a cloud of dust.

Everything was quiet as they all started into the dust cloud before Byleth’s sharp ears heard someone saying something softly, and there was a sudden small gust dispersing the dust from the crater, which was a few feet deep and several feet wide. Byleth's eyes widened as she saw the figure inside.

They were big, bigger than her father, who was a very large man himself. Byleth was sure she would not even reach the shoulders of the person, and would likely be staring straight into their torso if she were to stand in front of them. Their build was solid, with strong-looking limbs and wide shoulders.

They were wearing armor made of an odd dark metal, plates interlaced with blackened bone, seemingly master crafted to fit the person who wore it. Their helmet covered the entire head, with wing-like protusions from the sides, the bottoms of which went down before ending in two prongs, one for each side of the jaw. The visor obscured their eyes and had a slight V-like shape that the helmet’s construction mirrored in the front, with curved ornamental detailing on the section obscuring their lower face and the wings. The final part was the four draconic horns on the helmet, the two larger on the top sweeping back, and the smaller two on the sides, behind the wings, sweeping up and then back, giving it an intimidating silhouette. The horns were made of blackened bone, fitted into the helm. A single thick braid of what seemed to be the figure’s silver-white hair came out from the bottom of the back of the helmet, going past their shoulder blades. 

Their body was covered in the same dark, heavy plate, their breastplate having the largest ones, with smaller ones being layered over the abdomen and sides. Larger plates of bone interlaced with the strange black metal at the center of their torso. The gorget is just as layered, with a short raised collar-like structure that got taller as it went around the back of the figure's head. On the front plate of the breastplate and the armor on their shoulders were more curving engravings. Their pauldrons were large but not bulky; the larger plates curved along the top of the figure's shoulders and sat out slightly, and more plates were layered from their shoulders down the outside of their large biceps. Through the gaps, Byleth could see the rest covered by dark mail and equally dark leather, which seemed to be inlaid with actual scales of some kind. Small ornamental spikes layer the tops of the pauldron, shaped similarly to the horns on the helmet, pointed away from the figure's head, made of black bone as well.

The rest of the figure's large arms were covered in heavy gauntlets layered with more black metal and bone. They were sleek, with sharp angles and more curved ornamentation on top, going over even the back of their hands and each finger, the tips of which were shaped to look like claws; the rest of the hand was covered in black leather. Sharp spikes went along the top of the gauntlet, only a few inches long. On their hips was a belt and more plates of armor, protecting their upper legs and sides. Below the plates was a waist cape of red cloth, embroidered around the edges with gray curving designs. It wrapped around the back of their legs before stopping at their sides, and another hung between their legs, both ending just before the knees. The rest of their strong legs were covered in more layered metal, their heavy greaves going up to protect the knees with a sharp, bone spike-like protrusion, the fringes of them engraved with more curved designs. The armor on their boots was pointed a bit at the toes, segmented, and covered the entire foot. 

The most intimidating part of the armor was the crimson glow along its chest, between the plates of metal and bone that went throughout the entire set, dimming as it got along the ends of the limbs. The glow was not particularly bright and did not produce enough light for someone to be able to see with it in darkness, but it combined with the sharp, heavy look of the armor to make a fierce visage, and Byleth could have sworn she saw some kind of small runes lining parts of the armor. Finally, they had a tattered blood red cloak draped over their shoulders that matched their waist cape; it went down to past their knee, with a white, thick fur pelt of some massive animal mantled atop it. 

Byleth watched as they slowly stepped out of the crater, their tall form becoming all the more apparent as they stood between Kostas and her impromptu group, helmeted gaze looking around and taking in the scene. She was unnerved when she heard very little sound from them as they moved; their motions were almost predatory. Nearly too smooth. She noticed there was no apparent weapon on their person, only making her more wary, as that likely meant they were just as dangerous without one or skilled in magic. Byleth felt the young nobles tensing behind her, but she remained calm, waiting for the figure to speak, attack, or do, well, anything.

When they did speak, Byleth could not help but be surprised and confused. Surprised because the voice was deep, but clearly female, and strangely elegant. As she looked at the armored figure, she could now more clearly see the wider hips, narrower waist, and slightly raised chest that indicated their gender in the design of her armor. She was only confused because of what they asked.

“What plane is this?”

***

Vallitha regained consciousness to a loud crack of thunder and the feeling of weightlessness. She did not panic, as this was not the first time she experienced the feeling of free-fall; fighting dragons had let her experience it many times. She looked around as everything seemed to slow down around her; her enhanced perception kicked in, taking in what she could see as she oriented herself, back towards the ground. She immediately noticed she was not in any plane of Oblivion she knew of, and then she saw the single large moon hanging in the clear sky.

Her eyes widened a bit as she realized that while she was out of Oblivion, that was not Masser or Secunda, meaning she was not back on Mundus. But she pushed these thoughts aside as she focused back on the problem of falling, already halfway to the ground. She summoned her magicka, noting with some concern that it was more difficult than it should have been, but she was Arch-Mage of the College for a reason, and pushed through it. Bluish-green magic flared around as she began to cast Dragonhide, eyes narrowing as she found the magicka strain to be higher than usual despite her proficiency and her equipment’s enchanments. Dismissing it for the moment, Vallitha slammed both hands on her chestplate as she finished casting, feeling the spell take hold. She noted five figures near where she was about to land; they scattered just before she slammed into the ground in a slight crouch. The earth cratered and sent up a cloud of dust. Gritting her teeth as she stood up, Vallitha sighed a bit as she felt her regeneration kick in for the small damage to her legs, a consequence of her vampiric nature, grateful she had managed to finish the spell before impact and not have to resort to a restoration spell.

Slightly annoyed at the dust, she whispered, voice thrumming with the Thu’um, “Ven.” (Wind)

A small gust of air was conjured into existence, clearing the dust as she began looking around, her vampiric night vision giving her crystal clear sight. Her enhanced senses easily allowed her to pick up the distinct scent of blood and sweat in the air, confirming there was a fight going on around her, and she picked up the distant sound of combat. She took a few deep breaths as a familiar thirst clawed at her, though not as intensely as she was used to. She frowned at that for a moment before regaining focus, and then she noted a few corpses in cooling spills of blood in the clearing, all wearing similar outfits of fur and leather. They appeared to be some type of bandit or brigand, and there were several living ones around the area watching her and the people nearby.

The man standing to her right was wearing very similar attire to the dead men and other living brigands. He was a large, fairly muscular man with dark gray hair, a large ponytail tied behind his head, and a light beard lining his jaw. His face was rough and his eyes a bit wild, but Vallitha could see some fear in them, and he held a rather large axe in one hand, made of what seemed to be iron. She presumed he was likely a member of the brigands attacking, and rather quickly turned her attention to the small group to her left.

The three young warriors in the back looked around the same age and carried themselves with a certain level of nobility. The one on the right was rather tall for a human, with tanned skin and messy dark brown hair that was swept back and to the side, a short braid hanging on the right. His eyes were a dark green and twinkled with a distinct cunning and curiosity that would not be out of place in the Thieves Guild, though there was a healthy amount of unease in them as he looked at her. He was wearing a clearly well-made black tunic with golden thread embroidery on the front and edges, its end stopping at his knees and split in the middle. The sleeves were slightly loose, with the ends edged with bronze-gold ornamentation. The collar dipped in a V-shape, exposing a golden yellow undershirt. He had a short half-cape of the same color on the left shoulder that was slightly shorter than his arm. He had trousers that flared outward near his feet, with a pair of nice but practical black boots. A bow was in his hands and a quiver on his hip.

The young man standing next to him was a few inches taller, wearing a similar style black uniform. The man’s blonde hair was short and well-groomed, with a loose fringe hanging in his face, just in front of his brilliant blue eyes. His tunic was shorter, ending just past his hips, and his collar was tight around his neck, and the embroidery was silver-grey rather than golden yellow. His shoulder cape was affixed to the same shoulder, colored a brilliant royal blue, and longer, going to mid-thigh. His pants were fitted and tucked into knee-high armored boots, the plates a dark grey. His hands were covered with dark gloves, and he had dark vambraces on his forearms. A royal blue baldric was around his torso, holding a short sword on his left hip, and in his right hand, he held a lance.

The final member of the trio is the one Vallitha found her eyes drawn to the most, due to her striking snow-white hair, pale skin, and lilac eyes. Her long, flowing hair went down her back to her hips, her bangs framing her face, while the rest was tied back with two ribbons that matched her eyes on each side of her head. Her black tunic was embroidered with dark gold, and she wore shorts rather than a skirt. She had brilliant red leggings underneath and heeled black shoes. On her hands were white gloves, and on her left shoulder was a red cape, which was as long as her arms. Her sleeves were fitted, and the ends lined with gold. She was the shortest in the group by a good margin, but her proud bearing easily made up for her lack of stature. In her hands was a large axe, practically more than half her size, which clearly showed her small frame held deceptive power. 

The one who stood in front of them was dressed very differently, but drew Vallitha’s gaze all the same. She stood only a few inches taller than the white-haired woman, but seemed more solidly built, and she held an odd presence that drew Vallitha’s attention. Her shoulder-length hair was a strange teal color that matched her eyes, and her pale face was a stoic mask. She wore a robe-like tunic underneath armor around her abdomen and hips, which had a belt over it with a dagger affixed to the front on the right side. The tunic was black with salmon colored, angular designs on the front. It reached all the way down to her knees, where there was an opening on the left going all the way back up to their hips, in order not to restrict the wearer’s movement. She wore fitted black trousers underneath, tucked into boots that stopped two-thirds of the way to the knee, with gold detailing on the top, and an armored guard was placed over her left knee. Her arms were entirely covered by the fitted sleeves of her tunic and her black gloves, over which a pair of vambraces were affixed to her forearms with a plate on the back of her hands. Her elbows were also armored, all of it with dark grey metal. On her shoulders and the area around her neck was more light armor, colored black. Over it all was a flowing, sleeveless, cloak-like coat that had sleeve-like lengths of cloth that hung along her arms.

Vallitha could sense a strange power coming from all four of them, most intensely coming from the two women and primarily the one in front. It seemed partially dormant, and the power of the white-haired one was strangely mixed, the scent similar to the one in front. It felt different than any magical power she’d felt before. It was odd, but it felt similar to things in the more powerful awakened bloodline abilities she’d witnessed in some Dunmer and other Mer, even Bretons, but this was definitely stronger and more unique in nature. It was like she could smell it in their blood itself.

She paused for a moment as a revelation struck, turning her head forward and quickly putting the thoughts of the power of those individuals aside as she realized she could not feel them; she could not feel the formerly ever-present pulling of a dozen and a half claims on her soul. It was still and unmoving; the only claim present was that of the Father of All Dragons, and it was almost relaxing, as if the claims of all the Daedric Princes were invalidated and had simply vanished. She blinked a few times to disperse the slight tears that formed in her eyes. They were gone, as if she had never made the deals with them in the first place. She almost laughed out loud at the absurdity, a sound she had not made in a long time. She did not know how, but if she was being honest, she did not really care. All she cared about was that it seemed she was now free of any impending doom; no Daedric chains weighing on her, no prophetic destiny. She could choose her own path, not dictated by anyone or anything on this plane. She did her best to ignore the tiredness that clung to her like a shroud, the dull ache of her body, trying to let the revelation invigorate her as she offered a silent prayer to Akatosh, hoping it would reach the Dragon-God here. Wherever here was, because it was decidedly not Nirn. The magicka that was ever-present in the air there was practically absent here; it only had wisps of natural magicka, faint traces that a weaker mage would need to focus to even feel. 

‘Well,’ Vallitha mused to herself, eyes returning to the group of four on her left. ‘Asking never hurt before; it likely won’t now.’

So she spoke, her voice smoother than she had expected it to be, “What plane is this?”

There was a short silence as the group looked confused, the teal-haired woman blinking a few times as her stance lowered somewhat, while the three behind her tilted their heads slightly.

It was the white-haired young woman who eventually spoke, her voice strong, carrying a noble bearing, “I am not sure what you mean by ‘plane’, but we are currently within the borders of the Adrestian Empire in the land of Fódlan.”

Vallitha took those unfamiliar terms in, especially about this Adrestian Empire, and nodded her head a bit. Definitely not on Nirn then, and likely far from anything she was familiar with. She found herself oddly fine with that, even with the prospect of being stuck here. She had not left all that much behind anyway, and Serana would be fine on her own, even if she would miss the other vampire. Still, this plane could not be that different. She had dealt with no less strange circumstances.

Suddenly, the bandit began talking, snarling a bit as he spoke, “What the hell are you, some kinda Dark Knight? You'd better step aside and let me at those brats.”

Vallitha merely turned to the man, fully facing him as she tilted her head to the side, thinking, ‘Well, at least this is familiar. It’s always bandits,’ before she said aloud, “Who are you supposed to be?”

The bandit's face went red with anger as he shouted, “I’m Kostas! The leader of the Iron King’s Thieves! The greatest band of thieves in the Empire!”

Vallitha merely stared for a moment, containing the snort she almost let out, before replying, “Is that supposed to mean something to me?”

The brigand snarled in inarticulate rage before he lunged, patience clearly worn thin, raising his large axe in the air. Vallitha merely stepped slightly back, and with far more agility than anyone wearing such heavy armor should have, avoiding the blow that passed harmlessly through the air. She then punched him directly in the face with her right fist, barely even putting half of her real strength into it. To her surprise, he was not killed instantly, but launched back a half dozen feet as he lost his weapon, rolling a few times. He got up on unsteady feet, his left cheek bloody and the flesh torn from the metal of her gauntlet, and fear in his eyes.

"The hell are you!?" He shouted, stumbling backwards as he began to try to run.

‘More durable than I expected,’ Vallitha mused to herself, shaking her hand to rid herself of any clinging blood or flesh, ‘That would have easily killed most common bandits, even with how little I actually put into it… Or maybe I am not as strong as I once was… troubling… I do feel a bit odd,’ she dismissed it for the moment, not having the time to really check if anything had changed. As she half turned toward the group behind her, she began to raise her left hand, cloak shifting back, pointing towards the clumsily feeling man. The young nobles had slightly wide eyes filled with equal parts curiosity and unease at the display, while the woman in front was still watching her with careful, measuring eyes.

The blonde spoke up as he broke out of whatever thoughts he was having, his eyes narrowing on the running brigand, “Hey, get back here!”

His voice shook the other two out of their own considerations as they narrowed their eyes on the bandit.

“Do you need him alive or anything?” Vallitha inquired, pulling on her magicka yet again, still finding it harder than it should have been, relieved she could still use magic despite the fainter magicka in this place.

The woman wearing black merely shook her head as Vallitha huffed underneath her helmet, ignoring the mystery of her less potent power, feeling the Ring of the Erudite and her armor help her focus her magicka into the spell as lightning started to spark and flare along her extended arm, gathering intensely into her hand. She idly wondered if her spells would be less potent.

Kostas had gotten a decent stretch away, about halfway to the treeline, and was just standing up from another fall, before Vallitha thrust her arm forward, unleashing her Thunderbolt Spell in a crack of sound and light as it speared towards the man. It slammed into his back, causing it to arch as he was flung forward with the force, easily penetrating his armor and searing his flesh. He hit the ground hard face-first, his now lifeless body twitching, crackling slightly with residual energy, lines of smoke drifting into the air. She raised her eyebrow beneath her helmet slightly.

‘No less potent than usual, probably a tad overkill for a bandit,’ she thought to herself.

Vallitha turned back to the small group, crossing her arms across her chest, the group of four looking at her with new caution from her show of magic. She mused on the strain on her magicka, attributing it to the less potent natural magicka, but was glad the spell had not lost its strength. Before anyone could say anything, Vallitha heard the sound of an approaching horse, turning her head to her left as she saw the approaching rider, and the others soon heard the rhythmic hoofbeats.

He was a large man astride an equally large brown warhorse. He had dark blonde hair that was shaved on the sides and longer on the top and back, where it was in a short ponytail tied at the back of his head. He wore a dark orange tunic with white embroidery and fur along the collar. It extended all the way down to his knees, with openings over his legs. It was secured over his waist by a studded leather belt, a sword belt loosely fitted over it. His left arm was heavily armored and entirely covered, topped with a large pauldron with a leather strap across his chest; his right arm was lightly armored in comparison, with fingerless gloves and light plates of dark grey metal. His legs were armored, thighs and lower legs covered in dark metal plates. On his back was a kite shield, and in his right hand was a silver lance still red with blood. She noted he also had a smell of power to his blood, like the others.

'An odd phenomenon, I wonder if it is known to them, and if they have a name for it. Clearly, not everyone has it, as these bandits lack the same smell,' she thought to herself as she watched the new arrival. 'I could also use the coming conversation to try and probe a few things...'

He reigned in his horse and immediately began speaking to the teal-haired woman, “Byleth! What was that noi-”

He cut himself off as he noticed Vallitha, his rugged face adopting a brief expression of surprise before firming into a stoic mask, body tensing and lance raising slightly. 

“Who the hell are you?”

Before Vallitha could respond, she heard more figures approaching wearing heavy armor, and the now-named Byleth spoke up.

“She fell from the sky and helped us deal with the bandit leader. I do not believe them to be hostile.”

Vallitha nodded her head in confirmation and was unable to speak yet again as a large group of knights entered the area wearing shining white plate armor, the leader at the head of the group, the only one not wearing a helmet, revealing a kind-looking middle-aged man with swept back brown hair and mustache. His armor had a larger left pauldron and cape, identifying him as someone of high rank. She could not help but feel a bit uncomfortable in their presence, their clearly holy nature reminding her of the Vigilants of Stendarr.

The leader spoke with a booming voice, easily projecting himself through the area as a portion of the knights spread out, “The Knights of Serios are here! We’ll cut these brigands down for terrorizing our students,” He blinked as he noticed the remaining rogues running away, blanching slightly, “Hey, the thieves are running away! Go after them! The students seem unharmed. And…” He gazed over Vallitha, Byleth, and finally the mounted man, “Captain Jeralt! Who’re these fine people?”

“Ugh…,” Vallitha heard the mounted man groan quietly, raising an eyebrow slightly beneath her helmet, “Why him?”

Vallitha watched as the two men, apparently past acquaintances, identified the mounted older man as Jeralt and the white-armored knight as Alois. She watched as Jeralt seemed to try his best to make an excuse to leave, but the apparently peppy knight simply refused to allow it, insisting he come with him to a place called Garreg Mach Monastery, the apparent headquarters of the knights and a religious order of this plane. Jeralt was apparently once the Captain of the knights.

She then registered Alois, addressing Byleth now, “And how about you, kid? Are you the Captain’s child?”

Byleth responded with a curt nod of her head, “That is correct.”

Alois smiled before he said, “I’d love for you to see the monastery too. You and that tall and dark friend of yours will join me, won’t you?”

***

Byleth was suddenly a bit unsure as she spoke up, “Well, I would certainly love to, but I just met this Dark Knight tonight, as she strangely fell from the sky. I do not even know her name.”

Alois raised an eyebrow at that and looked at the tall, armored woman, and Byleth noticed her father glance at her before looking at the stranger as well.

It was then that Edelgard spoke from where she was standing with Claude and Dimitri, none of them quite relaxing yet, “Yes, I would like to know the name of our… dark savoir as well.”

The armored woman seemed to pause, for what reason Byleth could not say, but then introduced herself, “My name is Vallitha, and by all rights I believe I am a stranger to your land, even perhaps this plane of reality entirely.”

Claude tilted his head, some of the tension leaving him as he asked with a false casual tone and wave of an arm, “There’s that word again, ‘Plane’. What, exactly, does that mean?”

“Yes,” Dimitri added, his own arms crossing across his chest, “and I would like to know how you even got here, as that was a particularly odd entrance.”

Vallitha’s stance shifted before she said, “Well, as in the Planes of Existence, all encompassed by the Void, like the Planes of Oblivion…?” 

Everyone tilted their heads at that, confusion on most of their faces, while Byelth maintained her own neutral expression, but her eyes displayed her confusion. 

Vallitha began to explain further, speaking slowly as she seemed to think over her answer, “It seems you are ignorant of Oblivion and other Planes… but I am not particularly surprised, the… boundary, for the lack of a better word, encompassing this Plane is very strong, and I doubt any mortal or even immortal could pierce it easily to reach inside. I can not say more without going into magical theory that I doubt any of you would understand.”

“So what does that mean? How did you even arrive if this ‘boundary’ is so strong?” Edelgard asked, though it sounded a bit more like a demand as she stared at the tall woman, looking just as confused at the situation as everyone else. 

“Well…,” Vallitha said, her crossed arms tightening ever so slightly, “It means that however I got here does not particularly matter, as it is likely I will not be able to go back to where I come from. It would require far more power than I possess.” Byleth, for some reason, felt the woman was leaving something out.

“Oh…,” Edelgard blinked a bit, and Byleth saw she was genuinely caught off guard by the answer, “I am sorry about that…”

“That is very unfortunate, I am sorry as well,” Dimitri added, looking a bit sad for the tall woman.

Vallitha merely shook her helmeted head before placing her hands on her hips, “It is fine. It had not quite felt like home for a while. I think this could be an opportunity for… a refresh, something new.”

Alois seemed to brighten at that from the confused frown he was wearing, patting Vallitha’s back pretty firmly, but the armored woman did not even budge.

“That’s the spirit!” He said, withdrawing his hand, “No need to focus on the negatives! You are most welcome to come with us to the monastery, the Church of Serios would be glad to help, and I am sure the Archbishop would love to meet you.”

Byleth watched as Alois walked off with her father, then turned to look at Vallitha, the young nobles joining the two shortly after to form an odd group.

‘The Knights of Serios…,’ Byleth forced herself not to react to the sudden voice of Sothis in her head, ‘They do seem skilled, and this Vallitha seems rather powerful… but at the same time rather tired… I wonder what her home was like.’

Byleth could not help but share Sothis’s assessment as she tuned into the new conversation, noting that Edelgard was addressing her.

“I appreciate your help back there. Your skill is beyond question. You’re clearly a skilled mercenary. And your father… that would be Jeralt Eisner, the Blade Breaker? Former captain of the Knights of Serios. Oft praised as the strongest knight to ever live. Have I missed anything?”

Byleth shook her head before she replied, “I did not know he was a captain. That is new to me.”

“Curious. I’d wager the explanation for that is fascinating indeed.”

“I, for one, find our new, tall, dark, and magical companion more interesting. Oh, and I should mention the three of us are members of the Officers’ Academy at Garreg Mach,” Claude spoke up, his green eyes focused on Vallitha.

Dimitri spoke up then, his own eyes focused on Vallitha, “Ah, we have not introduced ourselves yet, have we? My name is Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd, Crown Prince of the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus.” He did a slight formal bow.

Claude followed next, his tone slightly exasperated, “Ah, yes, the formalities.” He bowed as well before continuing. “I am Claude von Riegan, Heir to the Dukedom of Riegan, and thus the Leicester Alliance.”

Edelgard rolled her eyes at Claude’s behavior, before bowing slightly, “Edelgard von Hresvelg, Princess and sole heir to the Adrestian Empire. I must say, as much as I loathe it, that I agree with Claude. You, Vallitha, are quite the interesting figure.”

Byleth shifted, bowing slightly, and then said, “I am Byleth Eisner, just a simple mercenary. I appreciate your assistance.”

She watched the dark figure of Vallitha shift before she bowed towards them, “As I have said, my name is Vallitha. I have no surname, but I have been commonly referred to as Dovahkiin or Dragonborn.” There was a short pause before she said, “Though I have been called the Mage-Knight as well.”

Blyeth nodded. “That seems apt. I noticed that you did not carry a weapon, so you must be confident in your skill in magic. I do not think I have ever seen a mage outfitted in such armor.”

Vallitha sighs, saying, “I would not be much of an Arch-Mage if I were not at the very least skilled in all the schools of magic, and let something as trivial as armor slow me down.”

“Arch-Mage? Dragonborn?” Edelgard inquired, “Those are... unfamiliar, if intriguing monikers.”

“Indeed,” Claude said. “Dovahkiin, huh? Sounds exotic. Regardless, it is good that both of you were here to rescue us. My tactical retreat turned out well in the end. Even if it was ruined by these two, following me rather than staying and distracting the bandits.”

Edelgard scoffed, and even Dimitri raised an eyebrow, and Byleth stood with Vallitha as they watched the three engage in a small argument. After a few moments, Dimitri cleared his throat before returning his attention to the two of them. 

“In any case, forgive us for this indiscretion,” He said. “I must speak with you, Miss Eisner. The way you held your own was brilliant; you never lost control of the situation. It showed me that I have much to still learn.”

“Indeed,” Edelgard interjected, “Your skill is precisely why I must ask you to consider lending your strength to the Empire, and the invitation extends to you as well, Vallitha.”

“Edelgard,” Dimitri started, “Please, allow me to finish my own proposition. The Holy Kingdom is in much need of the talent that you both possess. Do consider returning to the Kingdom with me.”

Claude then inserted his own commentary, “Whoa, easy there, Your Highnesses. Trying to recruit someone you just met. I was personally going to wait until we had developed a deep and personal bond on the journey back before begging for favors of our two new friends. But it seems there is no time for niceties. So, I’ll oh so humbly put forth my own recruitment request.”

Byleth heard Sothis hum in her head before she spoke again, ‘It seems one’s place of birth is quite an important factor to them. They are so impressed with you that it seems you may take your pick. Very strange indeed.’

Byleth thought for a moment before speaking, “I always enjoyed the few times I spent as a child with my Father in the Adrestian Empire. Particularly the visits to the Opera House in Enbarr.”

Edelgard gave a small smile. “A wise choice. The Empire may have fallen from its former glory, but the others are just offshoots that pale in comparison.”

Vallitha merely hummed for a moment while Alois walked back to the group with his apparent constant exuberance. “All right, that’s enough small talk for now. It’s time to get you kids back to the monastery.”

Claude gave a charming smile. “Well, looks like we will have to pick this up another time.”

As they walked off, Sothis spoke yet again, Byleth twitching slightly in surprise. ‘My, my. They sure are in a hurry. You know, each of them is most unique.’

Byleth hummed, thinking. ‘Claude has an easy smile and is very charming. However, his smile never quite reached his eyes. Dimitri was quite honest and straightforward, but there was a darkness lurking just beneath it. Edelgard was proud and refined, but it felt like she was constantly evaluating me… Vallitha is quite the mystery, claiming not to be of this world.’

Byleth felt, rather than saw, Sothis nod in agreement, before she spoke with an audible yawn, ‘Yes, I thought the same. That tall one is particularly interesting. They feel strong, and somehow I know they are not lying. Dovahkiin… that word, it sounds so familiar…,’ another yawn sounded from her, ‘Ah, I am so sleepy once again…’

She stood next to Vallitha for a moment before the woman shifted to look at her. “So, you’re a mercenary. You seem to be quite skilled. I would enjoy a demonstration of your abilities later. I have acted in a similar capacity in my adventures. It can be quite rewarding.”

Byleth nodded. “It has given me a wealth of experience, though it can be… tiring.”

Vallitha turned to face forward again. “Yes, it can be exhausting…”

Byleth could hear a hint of weariness in her tone, causing her to stare at her for a moment before deciding not to ask. She felt it would not be appreciated. Soon enough, the group set out for Garreg Mach.

***

Vallitha walked along the dirt road in the back of the group, listening to the conversations of Byleth, Claude, Dimitri, and Edelgard, noting that some of the knights were watching her more than the others. She could not exactly blame them. She knew the way she moved was unsettling to a lot of people, not that she could help it; the combination of her Vampiric and Dragonborn nature was potent, and her enchanted gear was making less noise than it should. She smirked a bit beneath her helmet, slightly amused at their caution. She respected their diligence, regardless.

She thought back to the conversation they had about her being able to go back to Nirn. She had not lied per se, she just left out the part that it would be far easier for her or another being to be dragged through the barrier from the inside. She just could not ascertain why she had been the one pulled to this place, and she did not really desire to go back. This new land felt so much less stifling, not having god-like beings of great power breathing down her neck. The plane also felt oddly ‘separate’ for lack of a better descriptor from the realms of Oblivion because of its boundary. She could tell this place was different from Oblivion, and even Nirn itself. It caused her to wonder if her capabilities to use Conjuration would even work, considering the metaphysical distance to Oblivion. She also noted their lack of reaction to the term 'Dovahkiin' or 'Dragonborn', something she had been called with more frequency by the commonfolk after the end of the Civil War and Alduin's defeat, rather than just Dragonborn. It seemed these people didn't know what a Dragonborn was, which implied they might not know what a dragon was.

She managed to get her mind off it, though, as she caught the end of the current conversation.

“This’ll be your first time at the monastery for both of you,” Dimitri was saying, “I’d be happy to show you two around.”

“It really is Fódlan in a nutshell,” Claude chimed in, “The good and the bad.”

“Indeed,” Edelgard added, “Like it or not, we’ll be there soon.”

Vallitha glanced at the Imperial Princess, something about her tone drawing her attention, and Byleth’s as well from the glance she also gave.

Vallitha dismissed her idle curiosity as she noticed they were leaving the treeline, and the golden rays of the morning sun were shining onto the path. She watched the ones in front enter the morning light and braced herself for the pain that came with the sunlight. She stepped out into the bright rays of the rising sun and paused, not feeling the unfortunately familiar sensation of her blood boiling in her veins. Vallitha felt fine as she paused, the sunlight glinting off her black armor. It was then she noted that she did not feel as cold as she used to because of her vampirism, her body almost feeling like it had before the change. Eyes widening behind her helmet, she composed herself before continuing forward with everyone else, still a little careful of the sunlight. 

She pushed that revelation to the back of her mind with the others as she took in the sight of the monastery ahead. The massive, sprawling complex resembled a fortress with a church-like feel, featuring enormous stone walls and spires. A small town littered the base of the monastery. She picked out distant forms of more white armored knights patrolling its walls as well as the town, the entire sight making her wonder about just how powerful this Church of Serios was. It unsettled her to see such a massive religious group with such a wonderful fortress, and clearly, the forces to hold and maintain it. She’d dealt with Daedric Cultists and zealots before, even the Daedric Princes themselves, but the worshipers were always small groups. Not even the Imperial Cult had the power that the Church of Serios seemed to have.

The group proceeded through the town, Alois moving ahead of the group by himself, presumably to give his report before they all arrived. Vallitha glanced around the town, noting how they all seemed content. She saw many pausing to stare at her in the group, her tall form causing her to stand out amongst them. She managed to ignore the stares, as it was something she had grown accustomed to being the Dragonborn. 

‘I only see humans,’ Vallitha pondered, ‘No Mer, no Argonians, and no Khajiit. Are Men the only beings on this plane? Is that yet another difference?’

She found herself a bit troubled at that, but only sighed, assuming she could find out soon. They passed through a raised gate into what seemed to be an entry courtyard, the area paved with stones. Several merchants and a blacksmith seemed to have set up in the area, selling their wares. Vallitha followed along with the group as they climbed a short, wide set of stairs to the apparent entrance hall, a single armored gatekeeper standing to the side, who gave them a cheerful salute as they entered.  The young heirs bid them farewell shortly after entering, along with some of the knights. Vallitha stuck beside Jeralt and Byleth as she took in the Hall, the room split into two tiers connected by a large set of stairs. She stayed with the father-daughter duo as they exited the Entrance hall into a courtyard, where they paused, Jeralt’s gaze affixed upwards. 

“So,” the older man said. “Rhea is here.”

Both Vallitha and Byleth looked upwards, following his gaze up to spot a woman on a balcony above them, looking at them just as they looked back. Vallitha took in her appearance, her sharp eyes easily allowing her observations despite the distance. She had long, light green hair that matched her eyes and an elaborate headdress adorning the top of her head, its ends having dark blue tassels. Her face was mature and beautiful, her composed expression oozing a calm kindness Vallitha rarely met. She was wearing a flowing white dress with an elaborate cloak and shawl with a raised collar over her shoulders, the top a dark blue with gold ornamentation, the rest a white-gold expanse embroidered with a leaf-like emblem and trimmed with more blue and gold.

Vallitha felt the woman’s sharp eyes on her, lingering for several moments before they shifted to affix on Byleth, becoming slightly more intense as if she were looking for something, the change barely noticeable, but something about it made Vallitha a bit uncomfortable. 

Jeralt continued forward after a few more moments, the two women following along, the man seeming to know where he was going. They entered a large reception hall, passing most of the way through before Jeralt stopped. They waited for a while before Alois arrived, looking over the trio, his eyes lingering slightly longer on Vallitha.

“Jeralt, Byelth, Vallitha! Lady Rhea wishes to meet with you. I trust you know the way still, Captain?” At Jeralts' nod, the loud man smiled. “Perfect! I will see you there, Captain!”

The white armored man set off back where he came. They stayed where they were a few moments before Jeralt sighed, starting forward.

“It’s been years since I last set my eyes on this place. To be forced back here, and to see her now…”

Vallitha tilted her head slightly as she listened, Byleth simply asking, “Her?”

Jeralt glanced at his daughter and then Vallitha before replying, “You both saw her in the courtyard, right? That is the Archbishop… Lady Rhea.”

Vallitha let out a hum, the trio ascending a staircase to the second floor of the hall, before she asked, “The Archbishop? Alois mentioned someone by that title.”

Byleth remained silent, clearly also curious about her father’s answer.

Jeralt sighed, before he said, “As my daughter knows, and you should know now that you are here, the majority of folks in Fódlan are devout followers of the teachings of Serios. The leader of such a ridiculously large religious organization is the Archbishop, Lady Rhea. You should be careful, Vallitha, as she wields a lot of power.”

Vallitha took the man's words to heart as they reached the top of the stairs and approached a wide set of double doors, Alois standing in front of them, finding herself slightly uneasy about the thought of the Archbishop and the apparent power she had. To host an Academy for nobles of three separate nations, each sending their heir to boot, at what seemed to be her organization's central source of power, both religiously and militarily, was baffling. Moreso with the fact that they only seemed to acknowledge and worship a singular god here.

It was not like she was a stranger to religion, as she considered herself somewhat of a believer in the Divines, considering just what she was, and the many encounters she had with Daedra. But even the Imperial Cult only held a small amount of any real power over the Empire, despite it having been ruled by divine right for ages, let alone other countries outside of Cyrodiil itself. Priests and Priestesses were usually sources of wisdom or public servants acting regarding the dead or other such capacities; the specific aspect of the Aedra they served was the main force in dictating that. This Church only served to somewhat remind her of the Daedric cults she had encountered, zealously devoted to a singular being. Like most in Nirn, she considered matters of religion a personal matter, not a political one. Though the Thalmor were pushing that with their White-Gold Concordant. Yet even that was more about the Thalmor’s supposed elven ‘superiority’. 

She shook the thoughts of her wayward kin as the double doors opened for the four, revealing a large room with a tall ceiling and several chandeliers hanging from the roof. The Archbishop stood in front of a slightly raised dias with an elegant chair on it, not quite a throne, under a single stained-glass window from which the morning sunlight filtered in. A dozen knights were present in the room, half on each side of the hall along the walls, and Vallitha could tell each one was watching her. Alois moved ahead of them and took position on Rhea’s right.

A tall man stood to the Archbishop's left, with chin-length hair a darker shade of green than Rhea’s, with his eyes matching it. He had a small trimmed beard lining his jaw and chin. Around his head was a gold circlet with a simple emblem of an eight-sided star. He wore a dark blue tunic that ended at his knees, split a little down the middle. It had gold embellishments around his collarbones and upper chest, and was secured around his waist with a gold belt with an ornamental buckle. He wore loose white trousers underneath, tucked into tall black boots with gold detailing. A cape was around his shoulders that ended behind his knees, matching his tunic on the outside and gold with white, curved designs on the inside. His sleeves were flared around his biceps with an opening in the front to reveal white sleeves of what was likely an undershirt, the tunic’s sleeves tucked into black leather vambraces with dark gold designs that went up the back of his hands a bit. His face was a stern, stoic mask, and Vallitha gathered he was more of a no-nonsense type. She suspected he was the one responsible for the knights, as he had not taken his eyes off her since she stepped into his line of sight, and he was a bit tense. 

The trio arrived in front of the two. As they did, Vallitha sensed the power coming from the two green-haired individuals; it was similar to what she had felt from the four before, but more concentrated and far, far stronger in the smell of their blood. Their blood also smelled distinctly non-human, almost draconic. She had to force herself not to tense up and schooled her expression beneath her helmet. Whatever these two were, they were not human, but they certainly were not dragons, as no dragon she knew of could assume a human form, and even if they were, they might not be hostile. The unknown “man” standing next to the Archbishop spoke first, his voice as firm as she had expected.

“Thank you for coming, Jeralt.” As he spoke, he finally took his eyes off of her, but Vallitha could feel he was still watching out of the corner of his eyes. “My name is Seteth. I am an advisor to the Archbishop.” His body tilted in a slight, stiff bow.

Jeralt shifted slightly, clearly a bit uncomfortable with the situation. “Right. Hello.”

It was then that Rhea spoke, her voice serene and warm, a slight smile on her lips, though Vallitha noticed her hands, clasped in front of her, were tighter than what would have been comfortable. “It has been a long time since we last met, Jeralt. I wonder if it was the Goddess's will that we have another chance meeting like this?”

Jeralt huffed quietly before he replied, “Forgive my silence all these years. Much has happened since we last spoke.”

“Yes, that I see,” Rhea’s gaze shifted to Byleth, and Vallitha noticed Seteth was also observing both her and the mercenary at her side, though most of his attention was still on her. “The miracle of fatherhood has blessed you. That is your child, is it not?”

“Yes…,” Jeralt said, “Born many years after I left this place. I wish I could introduce you to the mother of my child… but I am afraid we lost her to illness.”

“I see, my deepest condolences.” Rhea returned her gaze to Jeralt before going back to Byleth. “I have heard of your valiant efforts from Alois. Your name is Byleth?”

Byleth nodded her head at Rhea’s inquiry, her expression changing very little. “Yes, Lady Rhea.”

Rhea’s smile grew the tiniest bit before she turned her attention to Vallitha, still having to look up slightly to meet her helmeted gaze despite the distance between them.

“As for you, I believe Alois said your name was Vallitha Dovahkiin? The one who claims not to be of this ‘Plane’ and is called 'Dragonborn'?" Her voice hitched so subtly on the final word she almost missed it if not for her supernatural hearing. "From the bottom of my heart, I offer my sincerest thanks to you all for saving the students of the Officers Academy.” There was something strange about the way Rhea spoke to her that she couldn't pin down. Jeralt made a slight noise as the woman’s gaze went back to him. “I assume you already know what I wish to say, do you not, Jeralt?”

The man sighed quietly, Seteth bristling ever so slightly. “You want me to rejoin the Knights of Serios. I won’t say no, but…”

Rhea’s serene expression changed slightly, showing a small amount of hurt. “Your apprehension stings. I had expected Alois to have already asked this of you. I suspect they will want to have a word with you soon. Please, listen to them carefully.” 

It was then that Vallitha noticed the smell of Rhea’s blood was similar to that of Jeralt’s, and somewhat to that of Edelgard’s, though from what she remembered, the Imperial Princess's was muddled with another scent, strangely enough, one that was reminiscent of Byleth's. ‘Odd,’ she thought to herself. 

Rhea’s gaze drifted back to Vallitha. “As for our other unexpected guest, I would like to hear what she has to say, but first, a small request. Would you kindly remove your helmet so we can see your face? I would like to look you in the eyes if we are to have a respectable dialogue.”

Vallitha blinked, just remembering she had not removed her helmet since she arrived. She rarely removed it except for eating or if she was at home, as she was almost constantly traveling, and the roads were very dangerous. Far too dangerous to risk not protecting her head against some kind of sneak attack, though she supposed she was strong and perceptive enough now that it made little difference, and whatever the Archbishop and her advisor actually were, they were not necessarily enemies yet. 

She reached up and placed a gauntleted hand on each side of her head, tilting it forward slightly as she removed her helmet, revealing the rest of her thick silver-white hair that was braided in a large, long plait that went to her upper back, short bangs framing her face, and her long, pointed ears easily visible on the sides of her head. She then tied it to her belt. She got a look at her own reflection on the polished floor, seeing what had changed since she last saw her own face. Her features were sharp and elegant, typical of Altmer like her, though noticeably softer around her nose and jaw. Her eyes were piercing but not overly intense, offset by their striking blood-red color, a side effect of her Vampirism. Her pupils were slit, like a dragon's, the only outward sign she had as the Dragonborn, her once normal pupils having changed when she had absorbed her forty-first dragon soul.

Her skin was now a pale gold, inexplicably having gained more color than it used to have, but still faded from the deeper bronze-gold it had once been before becoming a vampire. The otherwise flawless skin of her face was jarringly marred by two sets of scars; the first from an unfortunate werewolf encounter, the largest of this set starting above her left brow before cutting down into it, over her eye, then continuing down the cheekbone past her jawline to her neck, disappearing underneath the rest of her armor. The second was right next to the first, going from her temple all the way to the corner of her jaw, partly obscured by her hair. The last smaller one crossed over the left side of her lips, marring their otherwise full appearance and ending at her chin. The other set was one expansive scar, a large, slightly faded burn the creeped up the right side of her neck from beneath her armor, up her jaw, and stopped just underneath her cheekbone, spreading back to just before her ear. A trophy from Alduin himself. Overall, she looked about the same as she had last time she’d seen her reflection. Despite her skin gaining a bit more color from how pale it had been, she could tell she was still a vampire, or at least vampire-like, her tongue briefly touching the tips of her still elongated canines within her closed mouth. She ignored how exhausted and dull her eyes looked, and the slight bags beneath them.

She kept her expression neutral as she glanced around the room with her eyes, noting that the knights along the wall had all tensed. Everyone else was looking at her with wide eyes, except Seteth, who had only gotten more tense, Rhea, who looked at her with more caution, and Byleth, whose surprise was only visible in the several blinks she did.

“You are not human,” Rhea immediately stated, her expression shifting into something between wariness and neutrality, something flashing in her eyes Vallitha couldn't quite identify, “so it seems your initial claim of not being from this Plane may be true. What are you?”

Vallitha paused for a moment, the clear surprise of the group around her confirming what she had already guessed; there were no Mer, and likely no Beastfolk, on this plane. She did not exactly know how to feel about that, a plane with only the races of Men and whatever Rhea and Seteth were. Despite never particularly getting along with other Altmer, finding them to be far too prideful and arrogant most of the time, she was disconcerted at the prospect of never seeing another of her kind again, or any other Mer for that matter. And the way Seteth and Rhea were reacting to her was... strange. She pushed it aside for the moment, though, to answer Rhea.

“I am an Altmer, commonly referred to as a High Elf,” she said, before deciding to probe something. “I take it you only have humans here, judging from several of your expressions?”

“Well, that explains why you are so damn tall,” Jeralt muttered, his gaze on her, his expression showing an appraising look. 

“Yes, there are only humans here…,” Seteth started, drawing Vallitha’s attention to the stern and tense man. “And it does explain your abnormal height, but I am still unsure about the validity of your story. You could merely be someone from a place far from Fódlan, transported from a spell gone awry.” There was something in his voice that made Vallitha think he did not truly believe that, but she could not quite be sure she had not imagined it.

‘So they were hiding what they are,’ she thought to herself, a little frustrated, ‘for what reason? And they already seem a bit cautious. Understandable, I am a strange being from somewhere unknown, but this seems to be ... more. I still know so little…’ 

Vallitha nodded her head, refocusing and conceding Seteth’s point, before speaking. “That could very well have been the case, and one I might have considered as well, had I not been in one of the Planes of Oblivion at the time of my… transportation here. As well as the fact that you have a singular moon hanging in the sky, while Mundus, my home plane, has two celestial bodies, Masser and Secunda.”

“Two moons…,” Rhea said, head tilting as she was thinking, her eyes never leaving the Altmer, “That is a fascinating fact, but not quite one that we can just take your word on. As for these ‘Planes of Oblivion’, I do not know of anywhere by that name.”

Vallitha’s eyebrows furrowed a bit as she tried to figure out how to explain Oblivion without having the holy knights around her immediately try and skewer her. “Oblivion is, for lack of a better synonym, the Netherworld. It is an alternate dimension to Nirn, the mortal plane, and is home to the Daedra and the Daedric Princes, which could be considered powerful, dangerous spiritual beings. They are chaotic beings, capable of extremes, and commonly bring destruction in their wake. I was in one of the realms of these Daedric Princes to fight his champion, who was trying to kill me to take my soul and break free from his servitude and return to the mortal plane. The man was a slaver, arrogant, prideful, and determined to gain every scrap of power he could. I ended up killing him, and shortly after that, something happened to make me end up here.”

She watched Seteth and Jeralt’s faces become a mix of surprise and unease, while Rhea’s eyebrows merely raised, and Byleth remained passive, but clearly listening closely.

“Are you certain you came alone, that you didn’t bring any of these ‘Daedra’ with you?” Seteth asked, his tone demanding and insistent.

“No, none came with me. While strong, Daerda typically have to be let in to the mortal plane, or can force their way in if the ‘barrier’ around the plane is weakened or they have a connection. The barrier here is stronger than back in my homeland, completely isolated from Oblivion. In all likelihood, the Daedra have no idea this plane exists,” Vallitha said, shaking her head, and was internally relieved about that, as well as the fact that the Daedric claims on her had disappeared, so she could not accidentally be that connection.

“Be that as it may,” Rhea started, “can you show us definitive proof you are not of this realm?”

Vallitha considered for a moment, immediately dismissing any thought of revealing her vampiric nature. She ran through her vast knowledge of spells for something that would prove so, before setting on a Conjuration spell. After all, nobody here had heard of Oblivion, so they likely did not have magic like it, and it would allow her to test if she could even use it on this plane. 

“I would ask that your knights not attack me, as I am going to use a spell,” Vallitha said, looking at Rhea, who gave a slight nod and hand motion to the knights.

Satisfied that they would not attack her, she began channeling the spell she intended to use, a small swirling ball of dark purple energy forming in her outstretched right hand. The required magicka was again higher than usual, nearly double this time, as she reached into Oblivion.

She completed the spell, the magicka surging a bit as a burst of purple energy occurred before her, almost like she was tearing a hole in reality, leaving her holding a massive ethereal daedric greatsword made of light purple energy. It was pointed upside down, pommel facing the ceiling, and its tip resting on the floor in her hand, with slight wisps of purple energy coming from it. It was gargantuan to fit her size, taller than even Jeralt, with an uneven, thick double-edged blade. Vallitha let out a small hum, pleased that she could still use Conjuration, albeit with far more magicka than usual, but resolved to avoid summoning any actually sentient Daedra.

She looked around, hearing some of the knights mummering and noting the raised eyebrows of Seteth as he examined the bound greatsword. Jeralt looked much the same, as did Alois. Byleth seemed the most interested, actually stepping closer to look at the conjured weapon. 

Rhea herself hummed, her mind seeming to wander a bit, before speaking, “That is fascinating magic… I have never seen anything like it.” She seemed to think for a few moments before she turned her head to Seteth, “I believe this suffices as suitable proof?”

The man nodded his head, looking a bit hesitant to do so. “Yes… I believe this does. I take it you are proficient in melee combat if you are capable of summoning a weapon like this?” At her nod, he did not seem happy but continued anyway: “ I have not seen or heard of this kind of magic either.”

Rhea nodded, giving her a pleasant smile again, though it didn't seem to come as easily, “Perfect. As much as I would like to continue engaging with this audience and see what else you can do, other duties require that I step away for now. You will be shown to your rooms, I’m sure you remember where the Captain’s quarters are, Jeralt.”

After the clear dismissal, Vallitha let the bound weapon dissipate back into Oblivion, the motion far easier than usual, before putting her helmet back on, following Byleth and Jeralt out of the chamber, before they were met with a white-robed priest just outside.

“Lady Rhea asked me to show you where you will be staying,” he said, looking at Byleth and Vallitha, eyes getting a little more nervous as he eyed the Altmer. 

Both nodded, Vallitha grateful for the chance to finally rest. Jeralt gave a nod goodbye as they followed the priest back to the ground floor, to the western part of the complex, where Vallitha noted it went down another level. They passed many students and clergy of the Academy, who glanced at them as they went, before stopping in front of two dorm-like rooms, Vallitha seeing more farther along, and on the lower level.

Their escort cleared his throat, handing each of them a key, before speaking, “These two rooms have been readied for your use. The one on the end is Ms. Eisner’s, while uh, the other is yours. If you need anything, the knights or a priest could easily help.”

Both women nodded, the man walking off quickly, muttering what was likely a prayer under his breath. Vallitha immediately went towards her room, Byleth doing the same. Vallitha gave the mercenary a nod of farewell that Byleth returned before they both opened and entered their rooms. 

Vallitha looked around the room, noting it was relatively spacious, about twice the size of the Inns she was used to. The wall across from the door had a countertop and cabinets lining it, though it was slightly short for her. The bed was set in the middle of the wall on the left, an actual mattress with rather comfortable-looking sheets and blankets. On the opposite wall was a desk with many drawers and a higher tier, a wooden chair sitting in front of it, though both were slightly small. To the right of the desk was a board for notices or the like, above a simple dresser. To the left of the desk was a tall standing mirror. A simple dark rug lay in the middle, covering much of the floor except the last foot or so from the walls, revealing a rather nice hardwood. All in all, it was cozy, but very much not designed for someone of her stature. 

Vallitha took a deep breath before she approached the desk, removing her helmet before placing it down. She ran a hand over her face before standing in front of the mirror, gazing at her face with furrowed brows. She did not understand why her skin regained some of its color, but her body not feeling as cold gave her an idea. She took another deep breath as she readied her spell, channeling her magicka as a white-gold glow formed in her right hand. She then cast the Turn Undead spell on herself, feeling nothing more than a slightly uncomfortable feeling. Not even the need to power through the spell like she used to.

She moved to the bed, sitting down heavily as it creaked from her weight, mind blanking. Somehow, she was alive again, no longer quite undead yet still somewhat a vampire, evident by the fact that she still has fangs, the thirst, and her eyes. She closed them, slowing her breathing as she focused on herself and nearly gasped when she felt it; her heart was beating again, slower than what was likely normal or even healthy, but it was beating nonetheless. She also noticed she was not nearly as strong as she should’ve been after absorbing Miraak’s soul. She could only surmise that whatever had brought her here had used those dragon souls as fuel for the transportation, as well as the revival of her flesh, even if she was still part vampire.

There was too much she did not know about where she had been dragged to. This place was full of questions, but she would answer them. She always did. Rhea and Seteth were strange and absolutely not normal, clearly unerved by her, yet for whatever reason, Rhea had still allowed her to stay. The strange power she could sense and somehow smell from some seemed interconnected or related to several people. The Church had a lot of power, seemingly over the people and nations themselves in this land.

She had a lot to navigate and learn, but at least she would be doing it for herself and under her own agency this time.

She sighed, lying on the too-small bed, closing her eyes, and letting the exhaustion drag her into the blissful dark of sleep, comforted by the familiar weight of her armor.