Chapter 1

It was another ordinary day for Freyr in the Imperial City. Bad mood, tired, and a dead deer slumped over his shoulder. Since his mother was getting older, and his father was busy with guard duty, it fell to him to get meat for his mother to sell in her general goods store. She was the only one that sold meat along with her other items, which set her business apart from the others. Freyr knew nothing about growing food, so meats and pelts was all he could get for her. Walking through the city he saw what he always did for the past month. Random races, mostly Imperial, all looking at him like a bear just walked through the front gate.

His mother insisted that he change his appearance so he didn't stand out so much, but that day for him would never come. He looked like a typical Nord from the north. Long brown hair, two braids to the side on his temples, gruff beard, although his was light as it just came in, and something that the milkdrinkers of this land did not wear, warpaint. He wore two red swirls on his cheek that trailed down his neck and ended with a smaller swirl facing the opposite direction of the one on his cheek. His "clothes" was merely a set of steel greaves with a burgundy cloth covering the middle and a large steel mid-covering on his waist held in place with a series of buckles and a large belt with a medallion in the middle with some sort of beast on it.

He also had steel boots and four steel circles on his right lower arm, two on his left as well as a steel ring on his right and left arm around his biceps. It looked a lot like what the depiction of the god Tsun would wear and was a popular warrior's attire in Skyrim. On his hilt were two Skyforge steel axes, which used to belong to his father, as did the outfit on his days of adventuring. Skyforge steel was the best steel you could get in Skyrim. In Tamriel. Forged from the fires of a special forge rumored to have magical properties of some kind of ancient unknown magic.

His father was already out it seemed as he walked into the shop which doubled as their home. The shop was called "Sylga's Assortment". It was a decent sized home, having the main shop room as soon as you walked in, Freyr's room to the left with a double door keeping it closed, and his parent's quarters being upstairs led up by a stone staircase going towards the entrance. Under that was the basement. Sylga liked him to have the deer cut and gutted before she woke up. The sight of it always made her uneasy. Freyr put down his hunting bow and quiver, then grabbed his gutting and skinning daggers, and then the gut bucket, and went down in his basement to prepare the meat. After about an hour in a half he was pretty much finished. The skinning was a bit tougher to pull off than normal, but all around, it wasn't too bad. Damn it, ruptured the bladder. That's gonna smell. No matter, I'll dump this all out later.

Freyr washed himself off in the large bucket of water his mother always left for him, and then he took the cut meat and pelt up to the counter for Sylga to take care of the rest. He left the head for father to later stuff to be made into a trophy. Those sold pretty quickly to people who couldn't be bothered to hunt themselves.

"Meat and pelt's all good to go, ma! You need me, I'll be out of the city by the lake." Sylga walked down from the stairs as he called out to her.

"Not so fast, did you put on those new clothes I got you?" She said, calling down from upstairs. Freyr's brow knit from annoyance at the mention of the latest Imperial fashion his mom left him in his room.

"No, I'll wear what I have now. I'm twenty two for Shor's sake. You'll be trying to dress me when I'm an old man." Sylga raised her voice above his.

"You can't expect people to change if you won't."

"Then let them stay the way they are. I'm a Skyrim born Nord, and I'll never change. Now leave me be. I'm going."

Freyr walked out after grabbing his axes off the holsters by the door and sheathed them on each side of his waist. This city is filled with such weakness. This place is too soft. I'm never going to improve my skill in battle living in this place. And father won't let me join the Arena. I hate to say it, but if he falls in battle, he can't stop me then… Freyr took out the pouch of gold in his belt. He didn't tell his parents but he was secretly betting on all of his father's matches. Watching and studying him as he collected gold to save up enough coin to get some ebony waraxes.

He only had One hundred and twelve gold pieces however, so he had a long ways to go. And once I get enough gold from my winnings as a contender, I'm moving on my own. Maybe back to Skyrim. Or to Chorrol to join the Fighters Guild. Freyr approached the door leading out of the market district, and was "greeted" by a Redguard Imperial guard.

"Good to see you, savage."

"Same to you, milkdrinker. My pa knows you call me that?" Freyr already wasn't in well with the guards, which means he wasn't doing well with his father. Every incident, every fight, every rude remark he spoke around them was relayed to his pa, who worked as a guardsman when he wasn't in the Arena. Nothing got past him. Including the fight he picked with the Redguard which landed him a night in Imperial jail. Issued of course by his very own pa.

In Syrim, fights were no big deal. Here, I can't even breathe without the guards hopping on my ass. Freyr walked past the Redguard soldier after exchanging scowls and made his way to the arena with no further ado. Freyr walked slowly with his hands locked behind his head looking at the clouds as he often did, imagining that the shapes were images of the gods, and that he could see Shor's ghost battling Alduin. Except he was Shor in the clouds, fighting the dragon with a mighty battle-axe. He imagined this for a while, pretending that he was now twirling the axe to send away the dragon's mighty "cloud fires", when someone suddenly bumped into him and interrupted his concentration, causing the Shor/Freyr to stop twirling and be burned to a crisp. Freyr angrily looked down and snarled at the one who smacked into him.

"Damnit, watch where you..., where…" Freyr was for a moment lost for words at the sight below him. A strange mer woman with light greyish skin and deep red eyes was sitting on the ground. She had long dark red hair that went perfectly with her deep reddish black eyes, and was wearing a velvet colored corset gown with golden trimming and dark bluish turquoise sleeves. The skirt attached to it was the same color as the sleeves and went down to her ankles. Her shoes were of the same elegance as the rest of her outfit, and matched her corset. The woman was now scowling at him as he stared at her like she was some kind of daedra.

"Uh, hello? Are you going to just stand there, or help me up? You act like you've never seen a dunmer before." Freyr gave her a perplexed look, still staring.

"That's because I haven't. You often come smacking into people?"

"I didn't see you. Now are you going to help me up, or not?" said the Dunmer. You didn't see me? How does that work, I'm a head taller than she is. Freyr was as perplexed by her race as he was her clothes. In the Imperial city what she was wearing was that of middle class, but to Freyr she looked like a noble. Freyr reluctantly stuck his hand out for the girl to grab. Her hands were incredibly soft, he noticed. As was the rest of her body, he soon found out as she pressed herself to him when she got up.

"Oops, sorry about that. Stumbled into you again." Freyr moved on, however and continued without saying a word. The Dunmer girl was a bit put off by his rudeness, but she followed him regardless. Freyr could hear her walking behind him, to his annoyance. He had grown used to most people ignoring him in the city, and didn't much like that someone was intruding on his solitariness.

"So, are you going to the Arena to place a bet?" asked the woman from behind. Freyr didn't answer at first, but finally gave a grunt in response.

"Are you always this closed off? You didn't even ask me my name." Freyr stopped walking for a second and turned around to the woman, still confused.

"I don't get it. Most people in this city would have run off by now. Aren't you afraid of me or something? I am a Nord. Aren't you afraid that I'll eat your babies or rape you? You're a Dunmer too. Our people don't have the best of history."

"And what of our history? I care not of what others did, even if the ancestors are greatly revered in my culture. And as far as baby eating goes, I am Dunmer. The Imperials don't see us much differently. I just want someone to talk to while I go to watch the matches. Is that so much trouble?" Freyr studied the woman for a while; trying to read her, see if there was some ulterior motive or something. All could focus on however was her looks. Despite not being a Nord, she was very beautiful, he thought. Her light greyish skin had areas where some natural pink hue came through, mainly in her lips, giving them the appearance of being very soft. Especially when she smiled, which she now was doing as she could tell the big Nord was checking her out. Freyr quickly snapped out of it and cleared his throat, which made the woman chuckle.

"Um, no that's fine. I suppose." Freyr's family wasn't all that fond of elves, which made it that much stranger to him that they came here, but they didn't hate them, even if they were a tad bit racist. Not that this was abnormal even in the Imperial City. Something he found out quick when they arrived.

"And?" said the woman.

"And what?" said Freyr.

"Aren't you going to ask me my name?" she asked. Freyr sighed in frustration as he wanted to get to the arena in a hurry to see his father fight.

"Fine, what's your name?" The Dunmer woman pouted and crossed her arms as she walked past him.

"Well, I'm not gonna tell you with that attitude of yours! Ask me nicely and I may consider it."

Freyr's brow nit in frustration as he ran behind the girl. The nerve of…she just told me to ask and now she won't tell? What is it with these damn elves! I don't care about her name anyway. Freyr wasn't being truthful with himself and he knew it. This girl was the first person since he got here that acknowledged him in a friendly manner. It wasn't till then that he realized how alone he actually felt. The Dunmer quickly made her way in before he did, leaving him alone with the bet taker. Freyr took out his pouch of gold and gave it to the Bosmer waiting. He was an odd sort, always smiling, and he often repeated the same exact phrase when mentioning bets. It was clear the fellow had been on this job for quite a while.

"Ah yes, so you must be here to take a bet!" Freyr rolled his eyes in annoyance and frustration fro the repeated response.

"Yes, I'm here to make a bet. I'm ALWAYS here to make a bet. Is that so shocking, elf?" The Bosmer kept his same facial expression, which creeped Freyr out, and of course angered him.

"Sir, I am only doing my job. Now, will it be th-" Freyr didn't give him time to finish.

"The blue team. All the gold in this pouch. See you later." Freyr walked up the stairs leading to the right. He walked up to the balcony and stood next to his new acquaintance and listened as the crowd roared at the match that was still going on. An Argonian rogue was fighting fiercely against a big ugly Orc he recognized as the grand champion. The mer Agronak-Gro-Malog was clearly toying with him as he sidestepped the Argonians dual daggers and tail swipes with ease. The champion fought with sword and shield of elven make, and he wore a special gold and red variation of the arena's competitor outfit. The Argonian was bloodied and tiring out quickly, and was about to make a desperate final maneuver. He charged towards the champion, then leaped into the air and did a spinning attack striking at Agronak with his daggers and tail.

Agronak who was growing bored ended it quickly by blocking all the strikes with his shield, and then hitting the Argonian between the eyes with his shield's side. The Argonian went down in an instant, then the champion walked up to him, and quickly plunged his blade into the lizard man's neck. The crowd let out a thunderous cheer at the sight of the challenger's blood wetting the sand. This being a Champion match, Agronak got to take the weapons and armor of the Argonian, but he left it. The Argonian fought with mere leather armor and iron daggers. It seemed odd that the Champion would give the creature the time of day to Freyr. Must be a slow week, I guess.

The Dunmer woman standing next to him hadn't paid too much attention to the match. Her mind was preoccupied with other matters. She was admiring the Nord from the corner of her eyes. His large frame was powerful and had a dominant presence to him that made him hard not to notice or look at in a room. His barrel chest and the upper part of his stomach that she could see looked like it was chiseled from marble. And it was donned with a light layer of brown hair that made her want to run her fingers through them. She let her mind wander further and envisioned the large Nord wrapping his arms around her, and the image made her close her eyes as she was lost in thought. The crowd's loud screams awoke her from her daydream to her dismay, and her mind turned back to Freyr.

"So, why are you in the Imperial City?" the woman said nonchalantly as she moved her hand next to his on the balcony. Freyr didn't notice it, as his mind was on his father.

"My father came to fight in the Arena. My mother and I followed." Said Freyr. The woman was waiting for him to ask what it was that she was doing, but the announcer went off, yelling out with his magically enchanted voice, although it was evident that Freyr would not have asked even if it had not.

"AAAnd from the blue corner we have straight from the freezing mountains of Skyrim….. Tolfi MMMMer-Killer! This man has already slain twelve people in the short month that he has been here! Who will win? The yellow team or the blue team? Let's….find out!" Mer-Killer? That is his father's name? Well, that explains a few things…Still…He doesn't seem to dislike me. He's just incredibly clueless. Madura let out a small smile even though she was a bit annoyed.

When it came to fighting and the Arena, Freyr was almost completely oblivious to anything else going on. This was no different. As soon as that announcer called out his father's name, his mind was completely transfixed. As the gates dropped, Freyr's pride in his father soared. He came walking out of that room as if he was Ysmir himself. He was wearing the traditional blue team heavy armor, and besides the hair being cut down military style like that of a lot of the legion men, he of course looked just like Freyr if Freyr was clean cut.

He too fought with two axes like Freyr, and he walked out slowly, twirling them in his hands to feel the balance while eying his prey. His opponent was another Orc wielding a large war hammer. It was of course of Orsimer make, and he wielded it as if he was holding merely a stick. From where Freyr stood, it looked as though the Orc was a head taller than he was, but Tolfi did not mind. After some slow circling, the two clashed. Tolfi ducked under the first initial swipe to his head, then swiped upwards towards his jugular. The Orc tilted his head backwards to dodge it, then tried to hit Freyr's father with the pommel of his hammer. Tolfi pivoted on his feet, and sent a side swipe once more with his axe in his left hand, and this time the axe makes a mark. The blood of the Orc sprayed out over Tolfi's arm, and the crowd instinctively cried out in awe. The sound was overwhelming to Freyr. Even after a month of hearing it, he had never grown tired of the chills down his spine that came from the thunderous shockwave of sound from the masses of the arena.

"Yeeaa! Show him, father!" Freyr didn't mind calling out, as he knew his father wouldn't hear from all the noise. The mer woman watched him as the fight went on and couldn't help but laugh at his adorable boyish excitement. It was strange to see that in someone so huge, she thought. She wasn't sure what drew her to someone so unlike her people, maybe loneliness, but she couldn't help it. Someone so wild and bold, so untamed by the life of this city…it was a welcome change. Meanwhile in the Arena, the Orc grew frustrated at being bested, and charged straight toward Tolfi. His father hit the hammer on the side to block the attack, and for a while the two went into a wretched dance of death, swinging, dodging, parrying, both fighting intensely to end the other's life. In that time, the Orc managed to get a rather powerful hit on Tofi's left shoulder, which made him drop his left axe in pain. This made Freyr's eyes bulge as he put his hands on his head with his mouth gaped. He never once had seen anyone land a blow on him before in his life.

Get your shit together, pa. After that, Tolfi got more serious, more determined. He went back into the fight with his single axe, and was moving just as fast as before. Tolfi after a while could see that the Orc was tired, and used that opportunity to score another blow. He ducked under another hammer swing, and this time swung his axe as hard as he could into the Orc's gut. The armor blocked the axe and prevented it from cutting, but Tolfi managed to break some ribs. His father laughed arrogantly and backed up, waiting for the Orc to gain his composure. The Orc was bloodied, but not down for the count yet. The mighty Orc after catching his breath dashed towards Tolfi, and heaved his large hammer up into the air, then let the weight fall down towards Tolfi's skull. Tolfi laughed at the slow attack and side stepped it, letting the hammer hit the ground. After that, he stomped on the weapon, forcing it to the ground, then he ran forward and head butted the Orc in his nose, knocking him down on his back. Before the Orc could get up, Tolfi jumped up and landed on the Orc's chest. This knocked all the fight out of the Orc. Afterwards, Tolfi took his axe and slammed it right down the middle of the Orc's face in between his eyes. The battle was over.

"Yeeaa! That's my pa!" Tolfi looked over in his direction before he walked off. Freyr didn't realize how noticeable he was from the balcony even from this distance, but he did not care. A part of him wanted his father to see despite the scolding he'd likely get later. The last fight was a good one, and he couldn't help but see himself in his father on that field. His father seemed angry at first. He knew Freyr wanted to follow in his footsteps, but he did not want him dying early before he lived his life. But he got over it and couldn't help but feel pride at his son seeing his victory. Tolfi raised his axe in the air and let out a battle cry to his son, and Freyr let out one of his own. The cheering and yelling filled Freyr's spirit with glee as it always did. I see why you wanted to come here. Being a great warrior in Skyrim is one thing. But here, you can show all of Tamriel what you can do. That will be me very soon. Looks like there is at least one good thing about this place. Mom's gonna kill you when she finds out you were injured however…

The Dunmer had seen battles before in the Arena, but it was something altogether to be standing next to the son of a contender. The father and son's battle cries had terrified her, but it had also excited her, lighting something up inside her that she wasn't sure of at first. The sound of Freyr's deafening call sent chills down her spine, and made her breath catch when it was released.

"That was amazing! Your father is something else." She said finally. Freyr finally acknowledged the peculiar creature before him, now that his mind was off of the Arena. She really was something entirely from what he was used to dealing with.

"Yes, my father is something else. I hope to one day join their ranks myself and fight in the Arena." The woman gave him a mischievous smile as she walked closer to him, laying a hand on one of his axes.

"I'd love to watch you contend someday. I love watching the matches." Freyr couldn't help but smile at the way she was looking at him with those dark red eyes of hers. She started inching her way closer to him slowly, while lifting his axe up and down in the steel ring it was holstered in suggestively. Freyr was caught off guard by her flirtatious manner and started to blush. Freyr remembered where he was and who, or rather what he was with and cleared his throat.

"Eherm, uh, like the matches do you? Perhaps we can talk about them some at the table?" The dunmer chuckled again at his embarrassment and gestured with her head for him to follow her to the table. To Freyr's great surprise, the mer had in fact been watching the games as she said. She named every last fight that went on in the month that he had moved here, including the fights of his father. Like himself, she had a hate for the yellow team, although her reasoning was simply because her favorite color was blue, which Freyr thought was rather hilarious. The two stayed in the Arena talking for minutes, which turned to hours. Having so much to say to someone else for so long, they had plenty to talk about, mainly things concerning the snooty Imperials and how they were treated like second class citizens.

"I know, I know! It's like they think they made the Empire by themselves. They're quick to forget that my people are the strong arm of their precious legion."

"Yes, that is true. And they forget that mine are the reason why the Altmer were defeated. A lot of the people here regard you as savages, not that you're doing much to change their minds on that, Mer-killer." The woman said this light heartedly and gave him a smile when she said it. The two had made their way to the stone floor beside the wall, ignoring the matches as they went on through the day. Freyr didn't realize it while they were talking, but the woman had worked her legs over to his closer and closer until eventually they rested over his, draping his legs with her fine silken dress. Freyr blushed and rubbed his head when she mentioned his family surname.

"Oh, you caught that did you? It's just a family name, it doesn't mean a-" The woman put her finger over his mouth and shushed him, then ran her finger down the scruff of his light beard before laughing slightly.

"I know, Nord. I know." Freyr felt a bit uneasy. He didn't know what was wrong with him. He had spent the better part of the day talking with this stranger, and she on top of that was an elf. He started wondering if she wasn't an elf would he question how things were going. Probably not, he realized. But surely she had some issue with him. He couldn't imagine her folks would appreciate her flirting with a Nord.

"Why are you so trusting of me, woman? You don't even know who I am." The mer felt shy at the question, but not for too long. She looked up at the Nord who still had a look of curiosity on him like she was some strange animal, but it was softer than before. Less defensive. She smiled softly and scooted over to him, resting her red head on his strong shoulders.

"Do I need to know you that well? You won't hurt me…right? Mer-Killer?" Freyr at that moment again felt how painfully alone he was in the Imperial City. Everyone was always so frightened of him or just scornful. But the way that this one looked at him now, with her dark red pleading eyes…he could see it in her too. She was just desperately tired of feeling alone, being an outsider. There were other Nords in the city, but they didn't stick together at least not in the Imperial City. Freyr assumed it must've been somewhat the same for her too.

"Won't your parents…you know. Be upset since I'm a Nord?" The Dunmer woman laughed and poked Freyr in the ribs, using it as an excuse to put her hands on him and rub his sides.

"Who said anything about parents, hmm? I'm only flirting with you. You didn't think it would be that easy, did you? Besides, I live on my own. And I don't care that you're a Nord."

"But you…and I, and we…" Freyr started blushing hard when he thought he misread what the Dunmer woman was going for, which is exactly what she wanted. His blushing face looked so adorable to her, with him being so fierce looking and wild, but no more unsusceptible to the charms of a woman than anyone else.

"Yea, I know what you thought silly man, but if you want that, you're gonna have to work harder." Freyr was about to protest, but his thoughts were interrupted by the sounds of the crowd erupting once more, which made him look at the sky, and he saw that it was beginning to get dark. Freyr started to stand up from their spot on the floor by the wall, and she followed suit.

"I…I have to go anyway, I need to go hunting to get fresh meats for my mother's shop."

"Oh, you hunt? What a coincidence, so do I!" said the mer woman.

"What? No you don't." said Freyr, remembering how soft her hands were.

"Hehe, okay you caught me. Maybe you could teach me sometime." The woman gave him a mischievous smile and pulled on one of his braids to draw his face near her. Freyr moved his face closer to the exotic wonder before him as his eyes were closed, letting his body overrule his mind's objections.

"You never told me your name."

"You first, Mer-Killer." She said, giggling slightly after she did. Freyr had never felt ashamed before of his surname until now. Before he took such pride in it, as his family's lineage was claimed to be the same as the war chieftain Hoag Merkiller. The man who was known as "The Mouth of Mud", a powerful Tongue and feared Nord warrior. But now, hearing this Dunmer woman's sweet voice say it, all he felt was guilt.

"Freyr. My name is Freyr. What about you? What's…yours…" The woman opened her eyes and saw him drawing near to her, and then she looked behind her to the door and bit her lip mischievously. Turning back to him and putting her lips right before his, she said.

"Madura. Madura Trizen." Freyr smiled and said her name softly.

"Madura…." He felt her let go of the braid on his head, and when he opened his eyes, she was gone. Freyr was once again confused, and found himself wondering if he somehow scared her off. Whatever happened, whether she got bored of him, or if she was simply teasing him, one thing was for certain. She had left an impression on the young Nord. "Madura Trizen."