Deception, Domination, and Dragons (Skyrim Self-Insert)

Before I even reach Morokei, an arrow sprouts out of the undead Dragon Priest’s left eye, causing him to howl and spin around, seeking out the source of the attack. Of course, with Svanna’s Sneak being ungodly high because of her gear, he can’t find her even then. I grin, and use the distraction to my advantage as she no doubt intended me to, slicing into Morokei with one of my blades.
 
… And yet, the Dragon Priest does not fall. And as I pull the blade out and begin to bring the other around for another swipe, he twists back to face me, snarling. The Final Boss of Labyrinthian swings his staff around and fires a powerful lightning blast directly into my chest, causing me to lift up off the ground and fly backwards.
 
I recover quickly enough, though I note that his attack did more to my health bar than any enemy has in quite some time. Still, it also automatically levels my Light and Heavy Armor Skills back to level one hundred, allowing me to hop into my Menu, pop a level up, and come right back out fully rested. If you’re not willing to cheat, you’re really not willing to win.
 
That said, the push back of his attack does give him enough space to cast some other spells before I get back to him again. Mage Armor shivers into place around him, and he holds a Ward out that blocks the attacks from Savos and Mirabelle. Both the Arch-Mage and Master Wizard can’t spend much more time on the fight against the Dragon Priest however, because the battle has attracted the attention of the Draugr untombed all around us.
 
The additional undead stream out of their tombs and begin to assault both Savos and Mirabelle. A couple go after me, but in the end they don’t do much to me besides distract me from Morokei for a few precious seconds. Still, I’m more worried about Mirabelle than I am myself. I hadn’t done all of this, just for her to die here and now.
 
Luckily, whenever I glance over and it seems like the Master Wizard is getting ganged up on a bit too much, the situation almost instantly resolves itself by an arrow or two striking down the Draugr that are harrying her. Svanna is still in the room after all, and still completely undetected by the undead we’re fighting. Knowing that I want Mirabelle alive, she’s doing her best to support the squishiest member of our party.
 
And Mirabelle IS the squishiest member of our party, even if I do generously decide to include Savos among that number as well. Ultimately, the Arch-Mage is a cut above his colleague and subordinate… as made clear by the impressive job he’s doing, both holding his own undead attackers at bay all on his own, and still supporting me from afar against Morokei.
 
HE, after all, is getting no back up or help from the hidden Dragonborn. HE, is if possible, supposed to die here in Labyrinthian, in this final battle against the Dragon Priest.
 
Unfortunately, the longer we fight… the less I want to drag this on. I’m beginning to realize something… my own magicka stat is actually working against me here. Despite being the dump stat of the three Skyrim stats you can put points in, I still have a ton of magicka… maybe even more magicka than any other individual on all of Skyrim.
 
Morokei is absorbing that magicka with the Staff of Magnus, and it’s making him far more powerful than he has any right to be. His attacks aren’t getting close to even half my health yet, but they are beginning to creep up there, even as I level and level and level off of this fight. The problem is… Morokei isn’t just a computer generated enemy. In this world, he’s a thinking creature, and I can see the cogs turning behind his undead eyes.
 
“What are you? Where are your wounds? Why is your Magicka endless? What is this?! What ARE you?!”
 
Indeed, as I slip around his ward to slice into his back with my swords only for him to blast me again with his Shock Magic, I show no actual damage. I don’t bleed like a normal person, and I don’t electrocute either. More than that, I’m leveling practically every second in his time. So even when he drains my magicka, I go right back to full a moment later, meaning the Staff of Magnus never gets the chance to drain my health as well.
 
Ultimately, he simply can’t hurt me… but he can hurt the others, and unfortunately, he’s a smart one. I notice the moment he realizes that he’s been drawn into a fight with the one creature he can’t defeat straight up. As he whips around, using the power he’s absorbed from my limitless resources so far, I dive forward.
 
It’s only too late that I notice where he’s aiming. He’s going for Savos, and if I’d known that, I might have slowed my roll a little bit. But as it is, I’ve been speeding up all fight thanks to me One-Handed Perks, with every blow making me more and more of a whirlwind of speed and movement. Out of fear for Mirabelle, that the Master Wizard might be his target, I go for the kill in that moment, when I could have waited.
 
Just as Morokei is contemptuously gathering the power necessary to strike the flagging Arch-Mage down… I relieve the Dragon Priest of his head, and the undead creature disintegrates into a pile of ash, his robes and the Staff of Magnus falling to the floor as he dies, once and for all.
 
There are a handful of undead left, but with Morokei gone, the rest of the Draugr are put down in short order. Then, silence falls.
 
Slowly, carefully, Savos and Mirabelle make their way down to my sides, even as I pick up Morokei’s Mask and the Staff of Magnus. I turn to face them… and hand the staff to Mirabelle rather than Savos, something the Arch-Mage doesn’t comment on. He’s too busy staring down at his long-time foe, at the remains of the monster he sacrificed his fellow Apprentices to seal so long ago.
 
Svanna appears beside us, and we share a moment of silence, before Mirabelle finally speaks up.
 
“We have what we came for. It’s time to go.”
 
“Yes… yes, of course.”
 
And so we begin to exit, making our way up the narrow passage, out of the final chamber. One last ghostly vision of Savos plays, as he apologizes to his dead friends for sacrificing them and promises to make sure no one ever enters Labyrinthian, ever again. But the present Savos doesn’t even flinch, so deeply in thought is he.
 
The Arch-Mage is certainly quite weak, at the moment. Killing him would be easy. Perhaps I should have done it back in Morokei’s chamber, so that they could lay to rest together… but I’m hesitating, I won’t lie. Savos has survived the trial that Mirabelle put in front of him. He cannot remain Arch-Mage… but perhaps he’ll prove ready to stand down willingly? Perhaps his knowledge, which I saw showcased in that final battle most of all, could be used for the good of future generations. Was it wrong of me to end him, when he could still teach and guide new minds down the path of magic?
 
As we near the exit, Savos suddenly breaks his silence, stopping us as he turns in his tracks, a broad smile on his tired, worn face.
 
“We did it. My friends, we did it. I… thank you. Thank you for dragging me here, for forcing me to confront my past, to put aside my cowardice and finally right the wrongs done in my youth.”
 
The Arch-Mage puts his hands on his hips and lets out a sigh of relief.
 
“Truth be told, I feel a dozen years younger. Everything will be different now. I will-hrk!”
 
I blink, as Savos is abruptly cut off by the fist-sized hole that’s just been burnt through his chest. Except that didn’t come from any of us. Not me, not Svanna, not Mirabelle. As Savos looks down at the hole where his heart used to be, I find myself peering through it… and going wide-eyed at what I see on the other side. Or rather, who I see.
 
The Dunmer Arch-Mage slumps to the floor, dead as can be, and a Thalmor Mage steps through, flicking the last embers of his powerfully cast flame spell from the tips of his fingers. He glances down at Savos, clearly amused, before directing a half-sneer, half-smirk in our direction.
 
“Agent Vayral. The First Emissary sends her regards and demands a report.”
 
-x-X-x-
 
I recognize the Altmer that faces us down. Its Estormo. But in the game, he’s sent by Ancano to retrieve the Staff of Magnus from the Dragonborn. For him to be here now… it doesn’t make any sense. Unless… Estormo was always on dispatch from the Embassy, to assist Ancano on the sly. Unless my killing of Ancano had not gone as unnoticed as I expected.
 
Those at the College had said barely a word about the Thalmor Mage’s disappearance. Some probably hadn’t even truly noticed he was gone. But that didn’t mean he wasn’t missed by other forces. Nor did it mean that the Thalmor were as oblivious to what was going on in the province as they appeared to be in the game.
 
After all, was I not proof of that? As far as my human half knew, there had been no Thalmor Agents like me sent to Skyrim in the game. None who were undercover and unidentifiable as Thalmor. That in and of itself was a change… just as this was a change.
 
My Thalmor side’s first instinct was to immediately kowtow to Estormo and launch into that full report… but luckily, my Thalmor half had taken a blow already when we’d killed Ancano. More than that, both halves of me remembered my last… encounter with Ambassador Elenwen, the Aldmeri Dominion’s First Emissary in Skyrim. And so the first words out of my mouth weren’t immediate acquiescence.
 
“The First Emissary left me for dead in Helgen. I was sure she’d forgotten all about me.”
 
Estormo’s smirking sneer turns even smarmier, if at all possible, even as the Thalmor Mage shakes his head.
 
“She thought you might mention that. As I understand it, she could do nothing to help you at that time. You should have known better than to get yourself captured crossing the border into the province. To claim you at Helgen would have damaged Thalmor Credibility.”
 
His eyes slide over to Svanna, and his lips curl into a grin similar to the one I’d seen on Ancano’s face. It’s a grin of avarice, and Estormo’s eyes twinkle with greed as he shrugs his shoulders.
 
“Still, it seems you may have had your reasons. You found the Dragonborn. The First Emissary is MOST interested to meet her.”
 
Waving a hand dismissively at Mirabelle, Estormo makes his ultimatum clear.
 
“Kill this one and we shall be on our way. You can give your report as we travel.”
 
I wanted him to shut up. I wanted him to be quiet. I wanted to kill him myself… but not every part of me wanted that. Killing Ancano was one thing, done in the heat of the moment. But First Emissary Elenwen was the closest thing to a direct superior I had in Skyrim. My Thalmor half had been under orders to report to her, if at any time I needed further direction on my mission.
 
Neither Estormo nor Elenwen represented any sort of physical threat to me now… but they did represent a threat to the relationships I’d built here in Skyrim. No, more specifically, they represented a threat to one very important relationship in particular. At my side, Svanna is silent. And while the lithe Dragonborn is always quiet, I can feel the difference this time, the tension in the air as she processes what’s happening, as she understands… I’ve lied to her. After all, a lie by omission, is still a lie.
 
As Estormo’s smug face begins to twist into a frown, his eyes narrowing, I’m trying to figure out what to do when the choice is taken out of my hands.
 
“Well? What are-urk!”
 
In an ironic mirror of what he’d done to the Arch-Mage, Estormo’s words are cut off as Svanna puts an arrow right through his eye, the arrowhead punching all the way into his brain and killing him instantly, if the way he flies back and lays still is any indication. I stare after him, my heart thumping in my chest as I gaze upon his corpse. Part of me had known he had to die… but that was the human part of me. The Thalmor part of me, even if it had been going along with this whole College of Winterhold thing, had had no further intentions of murdering more of his kind.
 
I suddenly register Svanna’s hand on my wrist, and look over to see her glaring at me. Its obvious she’s angry, but also confused and maybe hurt. She wants answers, that much is clear.
 
“Take us back to Winterhold. Then… we talk.”
 
I can only swallow and nod. Svanna lets go of my wrist, and with her and Mirabelle close, I use Recall to travel back to the Mark in Birna’s Oddments. As soon as we’re there, Svanna is on me, grabbing me by my armor and shoving me into the nearest chair. Mirabelle, of course, takes issue with that as my Thrall.
 
“Get your hands off of him!”
 
“Shut up, slave.”

Svanna doesn’t even look at Mirabelle, her eyes focused intently on me. I see possessiveness in those eyes, alongside the tumult of other emotions rushing through her. Holding up a golden hand in Mirabelle’s direction, I stop the Master Wizard in her tracks.
 
“Mirabelle, enough… Svanna has every right to be angry at me. She is the only one with the right to question me. Just… sit and be quiet.”
 
Mirabelle obeys without question, though she looks unhappy doing it. Meanwhile, I gaze at Svanna… and tell her the truth.
 
-x-X-x-
 
Svanna doesn’t know what to think, as Vayral finishes his tale. The worst thing is… she believes him. All of it. Even the part about him having another set of memories from another world. She’s not stupid, no matter what some might think. She’s quiet, sure, but she’s always been capable of thinking, of reasoning, of noticing things.
 
Vayral has always known too much. In the time she’s been with him, it’s like he’s got… a sixth sense she can’t explain. Well, now it’s been explained. Not only does he apparently know the things that are going to happen, and the people that they’re going to interact with, because of this other life of his, he has some sort of strange magic that gives him unfathomable power and a map of the Province in his HEAD.
 
It would be more difficult to believe, if he’d laid all of this on her back at the start. But there have been so many things that just didn’t add up before now. Things that are neatly explained by what he’s just told her. The armor he gave her, with its incredible enchants… it was made because he had insights that let him break the fundamental laws of the world.
 
All of it was hard for her to wrap her head around, but at least it explained a lot. Still…
 
“… If you are an agent of the Thalmor, what have you been doing all this time?”
 
That was the one thing she didn’t understand. Vayral grimaces at the question, before letting out a sigh.
 
“My mission… was to make sure the Civil War happening here in Skyrim continues to happen. That was it. Very open-ended. All I have to do is make sure the Nords keep fighting each other and that neither side prevails over the other any time soon. And I knew I could do that because… Svanna, you’re the only one who can end the Civil War. As the Dragonborn, you’re literally the lynchpin for all of Skyrim’s problems. So long as I kept you distracted, then I was accomplishing the mission given to me by the Dominion.”
 
Svanna wrinkles her nose at that. Vayral looks like he expects her to be mad. She is mad… mad that he kept all of this from her for so long. But mad at him for keeping her away from the Civil War? No… she didn’t care about that. And so she says as much.
 
“I don’t care about the Civil War. I don’t like either side more than the other.”
 
Sure, the Imperials might have tried to execute her, and sure she and Vayral had shared a cart with Ulfrida Stormcloak… but that didn’t mean anything. She was her own woman, and had no interest in their war.
 
Vayral just gives her a smile and a chuckle.
 
“I’m aware, darling. That’s why it all worked so well. I was accomplishing my mission, simply by making sure you remained uninterested in the Civil War. So long as I kept you far away from it, we could do whatever we wanted…”
 
The way he’s talking… Svanna decides she doesn’t like it. He keeps using the past-tense, like he thinks he’s lost her or that she’s going to leave him or something. Frowning, the lithe Dragonborn reaches out and grabs her Altmer by the collar… and drags him in for a deep, tongue-filled, altogether possessive kiss. Vayral’s eyes widen, and then he’s returning the kiss, even as she climbs aboard, grinding into his lap as he sits in the chair.
 
When they come up for air, Svanna speaks decisively, in a clear and concise tone.
 
“I’m mad at you. But don’t think that means we’re through. You’re mine. You belong to me. No one else.”
 
She’s rarely felt so possessive over anyone or anything since her ruby… which she still wanted back by the way! But not at the cost of losing her Altmer. Vayral was… hers. She refused to let anyone take him from her. And that meant, drastic measures were in order.
 
“We’re done here in Winterhold, yeah? You’ll be made the new Arch-Mage, and then we can leave?”
 
“… I wanted to make us a couple new sets of gear first, but yes, then we can leave. I figured we’d go to Riften next.”
 
“No. Yes to the gear, no to Riften. Once we’re ready to go… we’re going to go have a talk with this First Emissary woman.”
 
Vayral’s eyes widen at that.
 
“You… you WANT to go speak with the Ambassador? Svanna, you heard Estormo! She wants you delivered into her clutches! We’ll be walking right into a trap!”
 
Scoffing, Svanna just shakes her head, still grinding on her Altmer’s crotch, feeling his bulge through his pants even with his worry.
 
“We’re too powerful for them to do anything to us.”
 
She states it so matter-of-factly, but its true, isn’t it? It’s not something Svanna has ever considered before, but they… the two of them really are powerful, aren’t they? She’s really, really good with her bow, and Vayral is unkillable. They’re perfect together. An unstoppable duo. And yet, Vayral still looks conflicted.
 
“… I told you, Svanna, I’m literally of two minds on this. I don’t… I worry that I might submit to the First Emissary and betray you, if I were presented with her. I-mmph!”
 
Covering his mouth with her own, Svanna silences her foolish, foolish Altmer. When she pulls back a moment later, she scoffs.
 
“You won’t. Because you’re mine. You’re not allowed. We’re going to go and show this Elenwen her place in the world.”
 
Vayral blinks, and then gains a slightly amused grin, as well as a knowing glint in his eyes.
 
“And where, my dear, is that?”
 
Smirking triumphantly, reaching down to begin freeing her Altmer’s cock from its confines, Svanna glances back over her shoulder pointedly at Mirabelle Ervine, who has sat quietly this entire time and not said a word, all on Vayral’s orders.
 
“Same place as everyone else, Vayral. Beneath us.”
 
And then, she sets about showing him why he owed all of his loyalty to her and her alone. Vigorously, and well into the night.

-x-X-x-

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