Chapter Text
The prison cell was cold, poorly lit, and smelled of mold. Vanyssa Wicksmith knelt in the center of the floor with her hands shackled together, surrounded by armed soldiers whose swords were perpetually drawn. None of these things disturbed her as much as the mysterious, glowing, green mark on the palm of her left hand. Occasionally it would grow brighter, and send a sharp bolt of pain up into her shoulder. With each flare, her captors would flinch in terror. Attempts to communicate with them were met with words in a language she didn't recognize.
Escape was not beyond her reach. Her captors were clearly unaware that she was the Dragonborn. They'd have gagged her otherwise. Unfortunately staying put could very well be her only means of determining the nature of the mark. They were likely responsible for putting it there. If so, it could allow them to track her down. For all she knew, that was the mark's sole purpose.
Suddenly the door in front of her swung open. Two women entered. The hooded one had a complexion and hair color similar to her own, but was taller and more human looking. Either she was a Nord, or a fellow immigrant from High Rock. The dark-skinned woman beside her had short, black hair and was Imperial through and through.
Vanyssa glared at the latter, gave her shackles a little shake, then snorted. "Once wasn't enough for you people, huh?"
The Imperial leaned down until their faces almost touched, and responded in a tone that was meant to be intimidating. It seemed to be the same language the soldiers spoke.
"I don't understand what you're saying," Vanyssa replied with a small shrug.
The Imperial spoke again, this time giving her shackles a tug.
"I don't understand what you're saying," she repeated, allowing a small hint of irritation to seep into her voice.
The next words that came from the Imperial were much angrier. She pulled back her arm as if to punch of Vanyssa in the face, but the hooded woman intervened.
"I am a Breton," she shouted, enunciating each word as if speaking to a pair of simpletons. "Breton," she repeated, awkwardly gesturing to herself with her bound limbs. "Unless you're from some far-flung continent on the other side of Tamriel, you should at least recognize that word." She then gestured to the door they entered through. "Either go find someone to translate for us, or stop bellowing at- Ow, shit!"
The mark flared. Vanyssa clenched her teeth together, squeezed her eyes shut, and hissed. It took a few seconds for the pain to subside. When she opened her eyes, the two women were looking down at her with a mix of alarm and uncertainty on their faces. She angled her left hand upward slightly and wiggled her fingers. "I don't suppose either of you want to explain how this got here."
The Imperial exchanged words with the hooded woman, who promptly left. Then she silently walked back over to help her to her feet.
"Guess not," Vanyssa said with a sigh.
First she was led up a flight of stairs, then down a wide corridor with a pair of double doors at the end, and finally outside. The first thing to grab her attention was the giant, green portal in the sky. It grew just a little bit bigger, and at that moment the mark on her hand flared so painfully it brought her to her knees. The Imperial kneeled before her, speaking to her calmly as she reached a hand out to steady her.
When Vanyssa was done groaning in agony she looked up at the portal and shook her head in frustration. "So, which Daedric Lord is trying to invade Tamriel this time?"
The faintest scent of burnt flesh was carried on the wind as the biting cold of Skyrim nipped at Vanyssa's cheeks. After the door closed behind her, the black-haired Imperial woman removed her shackles. Much became clear as she followed her through the camp outside. The murmurs between people throughout were in the same foreign tongue, but the look in their eyes was painfully familiar.
Traitor.
She thought it likely they either believed she opened the massive Oblivion gate herself, or that she served whichever Daedric Lord was responsible for it. Given her particular choice of heavy armor, she couldn't necessarily blame them for the latter. Convincing anyone of her innocence would prove impossible if she didn't figure out a way to overcome the language barrier. That one existed to such an extent raised important questions.
Why were so many foreigners gathered together in Skyrim? Why was there not a single native Nord present? Why did her captors expect her to know their language?
The Imperial barked a command, and two soldiers pulled open a towering gate. As Vanyssa trailed close behind her, she carefully divided her attention between her surroundings and the effort to recall what happened before she awoke in the prison cell. Alduin was defeated in Sovngarde. Knowing it would be long before she returned, she lingered for a time. Then Tsun sent her back to Skyrim. Only the next thing she remembered was being in a damp, cavernous, green-hued place, being chased by a herd of creatures that resembled spider daedra.
Green.
Vanyssa glanced up at the Oblivion gate. Perhaps Tsun made a mistake. Or perhaps the Daedric Lord who opened the gate abducted her during her journey home. If so, it was possible that whatever she did to escape caused the gate to open.
I could be guilty this time.
The Imperial took her across a small bridge, then through another gate. Attempts to communicate ceased. They trekked up a snowy path in silence. As they crossed another bridge, a green bolt shot down from the sky and split it in half. Vanyssa survived the fall without taking any susbstantial injuries. Unfortunately, so did the Imperial. Just as they made it to their feet another bolt shot down, this time bringing two daedra with it.
Definitely an Oblivion gate.
The Imperial drew her sword and shield, then charged forward. Vanyssa, having no weapons of her own, was forced to summon one. A purple glow erupted between her outstretched hands, then was replaced by a giant Daedric battleaxe. She brought it down on the first to approach her, assuming it would be banished back to its realm with a single swing.
It was not.
Something's wrong.
There was no time to think on it. Instead, she hacked away at the daedra with all her might until it collapsed. The body mostly dissolved, leaving behind little more than a green mound of mush. That was not a thing she'd ever seen one do. Then again, most of her battle experience centered around dragons and Skyrim's natural wildlife.
The Imperial approached her with her sword still drawn, forcing Vanyssa to instinctively take a step back. She began yelling something at her, but abruptly stopped when her summoned battleaxe dissipated. The surprise on her face suggested she'd never witnessed such a spell, or was not expecting her to know how to cast one.
"Shall we continue?" she asked with a shrug.
The Imperial sighed and, with some visible reluctance, sheathed her sword. The expression on her face softened, and the words that followed sounded tired. Then she reached into a small pack strapped to her hip, retrieving what appeared to be a healing potion. Vanyssa smiled, politely shaking her head.
"Restoration magick," she said, pointing to herself, then to the Imperial. "You keep." For once, the Imperial understood.
Though the offer was unnecessary, it was good that she made it. If nothing else, it served as a clear indication that Vanyssa wasn't being led to her execution. They continued up and down snow-covered paths, occasionally stopping to deal with more daedra. When they reached a stone stairway leading up a hill, the sound of battle could be heard nearby. Vanyssa sprinted towards it as fast as she could, ignoring whatever words the Imperial was shouting from behind her.
She was eager to hit something.
Soon the chaos became visible. Several soldiers were fighting with daedra around a green portal that hovered in midair. Vanyssa summoned her battleaxe as she neared. One man was particularly bloody, and looked like he was ready to collapse, so she attacked the one he was dealing with first. It died quickly. Before she had a chance to seek out another target, an unusually tall Bosmer stepped beside her. He shouted something she couldn't understand, then grabbed her left wrist and thrust it towards the portal. The sudden roar that emerged from it made her flinch, but his grip remained tight until all of the green light folded into itself and disappeared.
Once the Bosmer released her, she took a step back from him and looked around.
Humans.
Humans.
More humans.
And a Dwemer with a giant crossbow.