Dragonborn Rising

This is the first chapter I've written for this story where there is no sexual content.

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Chapter 18 - Dreams & Nightmares

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Muiri was seven months pregnant when...

If I hadn't shared those drinks with Sam, maybe it wouldn't have all gone wrong. It's my fault. Everything that happened is my fault. But I guess I have to start at the beginning. That fateful night in the Bee and Barb...

Muiri was now quite large carrying our child, and while she still endeavoured to do everything she'd always done, it was now far more tiring, and she took more naps than usual. I certainly helped out where I could to ease the strain. She would generally head to bed earlier than usual the longer the pregnancy went on, but she kept her word about our love making. Some positions were clearly out of the question the further on her pregnancy, but we found her riding me worked well for both of us. She would then want me to hold her until she fell asleep, though was happy for me to leave and perhaps head out if I wanted to.

That fateful night, I wandered into the Bee and Barb with the intention of just having a tankard, perhaps catching up on some local gossip, while I received plenty of questions about how Muiri was and how long until she would give birth. Sitting at my usual table, I was content to sit back against the wall and just sip my tankard when I was approached by a stranger. In his hand was a strange looking staff. Offering his hand, he introduced himself as Sam, and I returned the favour.

Then he offered a challenge, a drinking contest for the staff he held. "I'm not a mage," I said.

"Oh, this staff is special, Ragnar. Trust me, you'll want this staff."

"What does it do?"

"Hmmm. How can I put this simply? If you use the staff, you'll always have a friend at your beck and call."

"What are we drinking?"

"Just ale. You up for it?"

"Sure. I can handle my ale."

No, I could not handle my ale last night. I remember enjoying three before everything turned black. I'm fairly sure my drink was spiked by something because I can usually drink double that amount and still return home, get hard and enjoy some time with my wife.

I woke up later, I have no idea how much later, my head pounding so badly, I wanted the sweet release of death. Instead, after groaning to myself, I found myself under verbal attack. "Wake up! That's right, it's time to wake up, you drunken blasphemer!"

Managing to drag my body into a sitting position, I was surprised to see I was now dressed in my scaled armour. My sword and shield were on the ground next to me. Looking around, nothing looked particularly familiar, though I had a bad feeling I was in Markarth. And that left me wondering just what in oblivion I'd done.

"Blasphemer?" I had to ask.

"I see. So you don't remember fondling the statuary, then?"

Looking around, I recognised quite a few things, particular the aforementioned statue. I was in a Temple of Dibella. The only one I knew of was in Markarth, so that was clarification of where I was. So the next question to myself was 'How the hell did I end up here?'

"I don't remember that," I muttered.

"I'm guessing you also don't remember coming in here and blathering incoherently about marriage or a goat. Which means you don't remember losing your temper and throwing trash all over the temple."

Marriage? Was I talking about Muiri or... The same question of what had I done floating through my mind. "I'm sorry, I don't even remember how I got here."

It must have been something in my tone, as she surprisingly relented. There was no smile, but her tone softened. "Well, you were deep in your cups when you got here. You were ranting but most of it was slurred. You said something about Rorikstead."

Managing to stand up, taking a few moments to stop swaying and prevent me being sick, I helped the priestess clean up the mess I'd made, offered her a few coins, admitting that I did worship Dibella myself. She was surprised at that, as males generally worshipped one of the other Divines, though I wasn't going to go into great graphic detail about why I did.

During my clean-up, I'd found a note signed by Sam, stating that to fix the staff I was promised, I needed a list of things, all of which I'd collected inside the temple. I had a small pack I could throw those things, and again thanking the priestess for her understanding, I headed out into Markarth. No-one recognised me as I walked towards the city gates and I was left wondering how I'd get to Rorikstead.

I thanked the Eight when walking towards the stables and noticed my horse was there, leaving me even further confused, as all my camping supplies were tied to its rear as usual. I asked the stable-hand, "Do you remember seeing me last night?"

He laughed. "Oh yes, you and your friend were very drunk."

"Friend? Do you mean Sam?"

He shrugged. "Never got his name. But he wandered off as you walked into the city."

Shit, that's what I didn't want to hear. I didn't care about the staff, I just wanted to know what else I'd done, and only he could answer my questions. I had a queasy feeling I'd done some rather stupid things, and wanted answers. The other part of me figured I should just head back to Riften and forget about it. Though I also worried about Sam. If he was as drunk as I apparently had been, then who knows what condition he was in.

Mounting my horse, I still felt rather woozy, though I found some dried meat in my supplies, so chewed on that as I rode along. The ride to Rorikstead took most of the day, though it was still light when tying up my horse outside the inn. Walking inside, I'd barely approached the bar when I felt a hand on my shoulder.

"You bastard!" the voice stated angrily, the hand turning me around. "You've got a lot of nerve showing yourself in this town again. What do you have to say for yourself?"

It came as no real surprise I'd pissed someone off, though I didn't recognise the man at all. "Look, I don't even remember being here. What in oblivion are you talking about?"

The fact I was clueless just seemed to rile him even more. "Is that so? Does the name Gleda ring a bell? The star beauty of my farm? Kidnapped by a drunk lout and sold to a giant? So you'd better remember her right fast, before I call the guards and have you hauled away."

"Well, I don't really want that..."

"You're damned right you don't. I'll never breed another prize-winning goat like Gleda! And don't you think of coming back to Rorikstead until you get her back from that Giant."

"Well, I'm not doing that. But, you see, I need to find my friend and his staff to get your prized goat back. No staff, no goat."

He remained silent for at least a couple of minutes, no doubt thinking about what to do with me. Finally, he sighed before replying. "I suppose that makes sense. You didn't mention a Sam and nothing you said about the staff made sense. You left a note but it was mostly gibberish, the only bit I could make out was 'after repaying Ysolda in Whiterun.'"

Crap, what else had I done?

Thanking the man for his understanding, I headed outside and mounted my horse. It was getting dark, and it was a few hours to Whiterun, but I was closing in on an answer to everything I'd done, all apparently in one night. A fine mist was descending by the time I made it to Whiterun stables, glad I'd packed a coat to wrap around myself. It had been a while since I'd been out on the road, and I was already feeling saddle sore once I'd dismounted. The city was deserted at this time of night, but Saadia was still awake when walking into the Bannered Mare, and I paid the few coin required for a room.

I felt much better the next morning, particularly after gorging myself on the breakfast offered. Wandering outside, I took a deep breath of fresh air. My mind was working once again, and the aches and pains of the previous day had most disappeared. Better yet, Ysolda was busy at work in the market, so I headed straight for her, though I was taken aback when her face fell upon seeing me.

"So, you're finally back. Look, I've been patient, but you still owe me."

"Ysolda, can I be honest? I have no idea what I owe you for."

"It's not even about the money, really. I wouldn't have given you the wedding ring on credit if you weren't so obviously in love. But if there isn't going to be a wedding, the least you can do is give the ring back. That was one of my best pieces."

"Wedding? Ysolda, I'm already married."

"From what you were saying, Muiri didn't even exist. Don't you remember who it was for?"

"Well, Muiri already has a ring." I groaned, wondering who in oblivion I could have been talking about. "Okay, let's just forget about who it was for. This wedding ring, do you know what I did with it?"

"You went right out to give it to your new fiancé! Don't you even remember where you left her? And after you told me that sweet story of how you met in Witchmist Grove! I can see why she left you."

"Witchmist Grove? Where in Skyrim is that?"

"Eastmarch, I believe."

"Eastmarch!? By Ysmir, how long was I on this bender for?" I grabbed one of her hands. "Please, Ysolda. Obviously my memory of last night, or however long all this has gone on, is rather fuzzy. I'm having trouble remembering a lot of what happened. Can you do me a favour and tell me everything you know? Please?"

She relented easily, a smile forming. "It's a good thing I like you, Ragnar. If I didn't..."

"I'll get the ring back for you, I just want to know everything that happened."

"Okay, apart from your fiancé in Witchmist Grove, you said the ceremony was going to be at Morvunskar."

After consulting a couple of maps, I figured I could get to Witchmist Grove within a day, and then head north to Morvunskar. Thanking Ysolda for the information, and assuring her I'd return with the ring, I headed out straight away. The map hadn't given a precise location of the grove, but it was within the area of the hot springs. Arriving around mid-afternoon, I approached a couple of bathers and asked about the grove. They at least knew of it, and managed to point me in the right direction.

Finding the cabin wasn't too difficult. It was what was greeting me outside the cabin that caused my stomach to lurch, and I near enough threw up all the food I'd consumed that day. My blushing bride was what I knew to be a Hagraven. I'd never seen one before but I'd been told about them before. My hand was immediately at the hilt of my sword as I cautiously approached. What made me feel even worse is that she recognised me.

"Darling! I've been waiting for you to return, to consummate our love!"

"That's not happening, whatever your name is. Give me the ring back and we can just forget all about this."

"What? You want it for that hussy Esmerelda, with the dark feathers, don't you? I won't let her have you!"

No idea who Esmerelda was. Didn't care. But I knew Hagravens had magic and could be utterly vicious when provoked, so before she could even think about attacking me, I struck first. It was a lucky strike, as it spun her around and she hit the ground face first, and she didn't rise after I put my sword through her. I wasted little time searching her body to find the ring. Once I had that in hand, I mounted my horse and headed to Windhelm. I knew Morvunskar was close by, but with night falling and the weather closing in, I needed to relax before heading to the fort. If they were like every other fort in Skyrim, they would either be full of Imperial or Stormcloak soldiers, who I'd have to persuade to let me in, or full of bandits, who I'd just kill.

Heavy snowfall had blanketed the landscape overnight and the wind was bitter, cutting through my coat, I was mounted my horse the next morning. I had asked about Morvunskar at the inn the previous night, and had been warned that the place was infested with mages, who performed all sort of nasty experiments on those unlucky enough to fall into their hands. I managed to find someone to tie up my horse at the bottom of the hill leading up to the fort. There were guards on the walls, lining those up with my bow. I managed to take down two, drawing their attention, the rest deciding the best course of action was to head in my direction. Lining them up and taking each of them down was too easy. I was left thinking mages were idiots.

Inside the fort, I put away from bow, figuring that working a sword and shield would be better inside the confined spaces. There were still plenty of mages, and it was only when having to take on more than one at a time that it was a problem. Those who were experts in fire were a real concern, laughing off those who used frost attacks. Those who used sparks or lightning were bastards, and I made sure to decapitate them when I got close enough.

With no real idea what I was looking for, I ended up wandering the empty halls, looking for any sign of Sam, but I didn't find a thing. At least, I didn't until breaking into a room, where I was greeted by... I'm not sure what it was. Some sort of magical sphere. It glowed brightly when I approached it, and figuring I had no real choice, it was either this or just heading back home, I stepped into the sphere.

As always, there was a bright light, and I found myself somewhere else. Where? No idea. But there was a serenity, a calmness about the place, that I felt relaxed in seconds. I could hear music playing, the bubbling brook nearby, and I heard conversation in the distance. The path was lit by lanterns, following it along, feeling a smile creep across my face as I strolled along.

Walking out into an open area, there was a large table, at which plenty were sat eating and drinking. And standing at the head of the table, as if waiting for my arrival, was Sam.

"You're here! I was beginning to think you might not make it."

I strode forward to shake his hand. Any anger I might have felt about having to traipse across Skyrim had disappeared. "Bloody hell, what a few days that was. But where are we?"

"I thought you might not remember your first trip here. You had a big night. I think you've definitely earned the staff."

"Ah, the staff. To be honest, I wasn't that worried about it. I just wanted to find you, make sure you were okay..." I held up my small pack, "Though I did grab everything needed, just in case."

"Oh, the Hagraven feather and so on. You can throw all those out. You see..." He was enveloped by a black mist, it disappearing in seconds. "I really just needed something to encourage you to go out into the world and spread merriment. And you did just that! I haven't been so entertained in at least a hundred years!"

"Who are you?"

"I am Sanguine, Daedric Prince of Debauchery! I know, I know, how could I lie to you? Well, how could I trust you until we've shared a few drinks? But it wasn't long before I realised you'd make a more interesting bearer of my not-quite-holy staff than this waste of flesh."

"Ah, I guess you're aware of my hunt for artefacts?"

"Most of us are, Ragnar. So I figured I'd have some fun with you at the same time. But, no, you've more than earned my staff."

"Well, thanks... I think..."

"My pleasure. But I think it's time for you to go. No fun keeping you locked up in here with the staff."

Before I could reply, there was the usual bright light, and I found myself back outside Morvunskar, holding the staff. I looked at it, intrigued as to what it was and what it would do, though I wasn't going to mess around with it. Looking around, it appeared not a minute had passed since I'd taken down the first mage, so I mounted my horse, pointed it in the direction of home, and off we went.

It was night by the time I dismounted at the stables outside Riften. It had been a long few days, crossing from the far west of Skyrim before turning north to Windhelm. It had been quite a few months since I'd properly hit the open road, and despite being left to wonder what else I might had done, I did find myself enjoying it most of the time.

I headed straight home. I'm not sure how many days it had been since I'd headed out for what I had intended to be a solitary drink. I expected my wife to be a little unhappy with me, as I would assume I'd disappeared without a word. Walking into the house, I was greeted by a few people. Aranea. Ingun. Maven. Brynjolf. Vex. Delvin. Brynjolf rose to his feet, and he looked...

"What's wrong?" I asked, a bad feeling immediately nestling in my stomach.

"Where have you been, lad?"

"It's a long story. What's wrong? Where's Muiri?"

Brynjolf opened his mouth but couldn't say anything. Aranea rose to her feet and walked towards me. "I found her this morning, Ragnar."

"What do you mean 'found her'? Where is she? Where is my wife?"

I brushed by them and headed upstairs, calling her name. Walking into the bedroom, there was no sign of her. I walked into the nursery, no sign of her there either. I looked around the entire house, my calls becoming ever more frantic. It felt like some sort of sick joke was being played on me. 'Found her'? Of course they'd find her in our home. Where else would she be?

Walking downstairs, I strode towards Brynjolf and grabbed him by his collar. "Where is she?" I shouted into his face.

"She's not here," he said quietly, face full of sorrow, "She's gone, lad. She's gone..."

And my life fell apart in an instant.

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Ragnar of Riften had his heart ripped out. Where it once rested, there was only a black void. I knew I'd never love again. My wife and child had been stolen from me. And I knew she'd been murdered. I had spoken with the lady who tended the Hall of the Dead, a woman by the name of Alessandra. She had performed all the usual checks. She confirmed Muiri's sex, age and other distinguishing features, including the fact she was heavily pregnant. She also confirmed the manner of death.

Murder. She'd been poisoned. There was the tiny hole in her neck, where someone had likely used a needle to dispense the poison. She confirmed death would have been in seconds.

There was only one group responsible for murder in Skyrim. The Dark Brotherhood. I knew I would be going to war with them after the funeral. I was going to find Astrid, kill her, then wipe the rest of them out. The Dark Brotherhood would cease to exist in all of Tamriel by the time I was done with them.

But first, I had to lay my wife and child to rest. The Temple of Mara, the site of the happiest day of my life, where I had married her, was now the site of my saddest. I had shed enough tears between hearing the news and the funeral. Now I was just left feeling angry and bitter. And, I'll admit, a little confused. I had no idea who would want to kill her. Was it her? Or was someone trying to get at me? I had asked around, and no-one could give me a straight answer.

Like weddings, funerals were simple affairs in Skyrim. Maramal spoke a few words and I wasn't capable of adding anything. Thankfully Aranea spoke for me, and her words were beautiful, and it was then that I was finally able to cry. I hugged her tightly afterwards, thanking her profusely. Carryout the coffin afterwards, a grave had been dug for her in the lone graveyard the city had. Maven had bought an exquisite gravestone for me, and it was next to the grave that we placed the coffin down, before four of us used ropes to lower it into the ground. I insisted I would fill the grave myself. It took a while, but it was therapeutic at the same time.

The grave full, Ingun approached and dropped some seeds, as flowers would now grow on the grave, a symbol of Muiri's love for alchemy. Asking for everyone to meet me at the Bee and Barb in a few minutes, I was left alone as I stood in front of the grave. "I'm sorry, Muiri. It's all my fault. Maybe if I'd been home..."

"It's not your fault." The voice made me jump, turning to see Nura, the priestess of Talos I often saw praying at a nearby shrine. "It's not your fault, Ragnar. And if you'd been home, you would perhaps be dead too."