The Brute, the Thief, and the Awkward (Skyrim Fanfiction)

Epilogue

Fredas, Sun's Dawn, 25th, 4E 203

10:45am

"No! You can't do this!" Kahra fretted. "My family has lived here for generations! You cannot just expel us from our home!"

"I offer my sincerest apologies, but I cannot wait any longer. You have not made your payments for some time Kahra, so I must ask you to leave."

"No, no no no no no." Kahra seldom showed despair in front of her children, but in this moment she fell to her knees and began to sob.

J'niro moved to his mother's side and placed his arm around her. "It is okay mother... We will figure something out."

The sight of her mother in distress depressed La'Kar, so she stepped out onto the warm sand for some air. The reflection of the sun off the crystal blue waters reminded her of her sister, who would come out everyday to take in this view. La'Kar wondered where her sister had gone, and what had become of her. Years have passed and no word had come in... It was strange.

"La'Kar!" J'niro called. "We have to begin packing our things. We will have to find some place to go." La'Kar sighed, and moved back to the door. But before entering, she looked to the horizon one final time. A quick flash of light caught her eye. After studying it a bit longer, her face lit up joy.

"Mama! Mama, look!"

The three gathered on a dune to see something none would see in their wildest imaginations. Down some distance along the mounds and valleys of sand so rose the dust under the sound of thunder. Wheels and hooves clattered and thumped, a caravan of at least fifteen carts came to their aid, the blinding reflections of gold being the cargo. At the helm, standing tall and proud, was Daro'maka, a triumphant figure dark as night yet shining brighter than any star that accompanied the two moons. Kahra burst into tears of joy, and her children cheered. The khajiit who had come to their door looked shocked and his jaw dropped.

As the carriages came to a halt on the estate, Daro'maka hopped off the front and removed her pitch black hood. She smiled brightly, and ran to embrace her family she missed ever so dearly.

"I told you I would be back." She fought to hold back tears, "And here I am. Home. With you, my family. And none of us will ever have to leave again."

"My daughter, my youngest daughter, I thought I lost you," Her mother spoke, hardly audibly. "I do not wish to feel the same sorrows again."

"Hush mother. Do not speak anymore. We have all the time in the world to speak."

Hand in hand, the reunited family returned to their estate, and the ring shone brightly. The ring shone ever so brightly.

Tirdas, Evening Star, 27th 4E 204

7:58pm

Cheif Mauhulakh took a final swig of his drink, before climbing into his bed and shutting his eyes. He felt warm and comfortable, and sleep began to creep up on him, when a loud noise abruptly disturbed his sleep. The door to his longhouse flew open, and Yatul broke in. "Brother, you must see this! Quickly now!"

Before he could grumble a question out, Yatul raced back outside. Mauhulakh rose from his bed and shuffled out the door.

Immediately he saw a croud gather in the center of the stronghold; everyone was in attendance. But for what reason, he did not know. He moved to the center of the circle to investigate, and the strongest sense of shock and awe fully woke him from his half asleep state. He could swear he was staring into the soul of a ghost, and for that matter, he might as well have been. For there before him kneeled twelve feet of masculine strength and glory. Ragnarok, Bane of Kings and Death of Gods had returned once again. Adorned in Stormcloak officer armor and wielding the mighty hammer of Volendrung, Malacath's fabled weapon of immense destruction.