I am well aware that this isn't the kind of update that my usual readers would like to see and I can promise here that my others stories will get new chapters sooner rather than later. But at the moment I have to contend with a rather massive writer's block and to get rid of that, I have decided to write down some of the more obscure ideas. This is one of them.
I wanted another A Song of Ice and Fire crossover, but not with the Harry Potter backstory that I have used in my other stories. So another fantasy setting has to take that place. And somehow I think that there are quite a lot of possible stories for an Elder Scrolls crossover.
The gist of this story - What might happen when a Daedra decides to bother the belligerent Dragonborn. Well, in this case, the Dragonborn replaces a certain princess in the years before Aegon's conquest. But the main focus would not be on Aegon and his sisters, but rather on an alternate version of Argella Durrandon and Orys Baratheon.
This chapter is only a short prolog, but if there is enough interest, I will update the story as often as possible.
So have fun with this short introduction and let me know what you think about it...
She wasn't exactly sure how it had happened. She wasn't even sure who was to blame for it, but one thing was for sure, it was either the fault of a Deadra or a Khajiit. Oh well, maybe she wasn't entirely fair with that assumption, the Daedra just did what their nature dictates them to do, the damn cats on the other hand only had one purpose in the world, to annoy everyone and cause trouble.
But as she sat there, in this fancy room, looking at herself in a mirror, she marveled at her own sight for some long moments. It was definitely her face that staring back at her, though it was… younger. And neither burned by the sun nor cut open by some random Draugr or another monster that had managed to sneak up on her. She looked at least a decade younger, if not more. And even the ghastly scar, which had decorated her left cheek, was gone now. There wasn't even a trace left of it.
She looked around the room for any clues that might give her the answers her mind demanded at that very moment. But she found none. The room was lavishly decorated, the color scheme mainly following the colors black and gold. The last time she had seen this much of those two colors, she had been in Bruma, briefly before her ill-fated attempt to enter Skyrim. But this couldn't be Bruma. At this time of the year, the weather there was harsh and unforgiving. There was none of the winter's iron grip here.
But as she continued to look around, she began to frown deeply. There was no sight of her weapons or her armor. Neither could she see any of her other possessions. Even the dress she was wearing at that very moment, though very pretty and flattering on her, was not the kind of clothing she would have worn. She looked more like some nobleman's dainty daughter, rather than the imperial legate and battlemage she had been for the past few years.
"If Rikke ever sees me like this I will be the laughing stock of the whole legion," she muttered, "I can hardly move enough to fight in this outfit."
Much to her growing aggravation, none of the wardrobes yielded any different clothing. The only thing remotely useful was a riding outfit complete with leather breaches. It wasn't much and by the style of it, it had been designed to look nice and not for combat purposes. But for the moment, it would have to do.
She quickly changed her clothes, relishing in the increased mobility she finally had. But that did not change the fact that she was still unarmed. Not the best way to be in an unknown place.
She moved towards one of the windows, to see the land outside. Maybe she would recognize the keep or at least some other landmark nearby. She had gotten rather good at telling the mountains in Skyrim apart, to navigate the rough landscape. But as her eyes searched the horizon, she saw nothing that looked even remotely familiar.
"A nice view, my mortal friend?"
She whirled around, calling forth her magic in her right hand, as she faced the intruder. She was relieved that her magic still responded to her as it should, though the relief was short lived when she saw her visitor.
Standing there in his full glory, was the Deadric Prince Sanguine. Dressed in his dark deadric armor, his skin black and dark red and his horns very much visible on his head, there was no doubt about his inhuman nature.
"I," the Deadric Prince replied mockingly, "But this is about you. You need to liven up a little, mortal. Hence is why you are here."
"You did this to me? Where am I?"
"Away. Far away, to another dreary place that needs to liven up. That will be your job, just if you didn't understand the implied order," Sanguine drawled.
"You should have left me where I had been before!" she exclaimed in outrage. Powerful being or not, she was not happy about being the Deadra's little puppet… again.
"Where I found you… In the dirt, on the soiled floor of the tavern in Riften, piss drunk and romping around with the oafish Blackbriar boy," Sanguine drawled, "Now that you mention it, that had been rather fun to watch. But now you are here, see it as my gift to you for that fantastic show."
She wasn't sure whether she should feel embarrassed or not. She could remember none of that and the Deadra could be lying to her. It wouldn't be the first time either. Though the last time she had run into Sanguine, it had ended with a botched up marriage, a huge fine and her humping statues in Dibella's temple, so maybe there was some truth in his words. She hoped not.
"Hm, so Sheogorath was right, after all, you wouldn't appreciate this grand and entirely unselfish gesture. Shame on you. Just let go of your constraints and let Uncle Sanguine adjust your course a bit," the Deadric Lord laughed.
In a flash of anger, she threw a fireball at him, setting him on fire. But the flames died down almost immediately and only left a bored expression on his face.
"I get the feeling that you don't like your gift," he drawled.
"Why are you always doing this to me? Are there no followers of yours to torment?"
He laughed boisterously, "But you are my favorite toy! Now enjoy your life as a princess in this dreary world. I'll be watching, Argella." Then he disappeared once more, likely back to his plane of Oblivion from where he would wreck the lives of countless mortals for his own sick pleasure.
"I hate Deadra..." she muttered darkly.
But she wondered about the name he had called her. Argella. That wasn't her name. No, her name was… she couldn't remember. She remembered Argella, but that had never been her name, it wasn't even an imperial name…
Argella. She tried to remember something about this name. Where had it come from? Was it really her name in this world? It would imply that the Deadra had somehow influenced this world or was she a total stranger dropped into an unknown situation? That would definitely suit Sanguine's style. All he could to humiliate her and make her life a mess.
But she couldn't deny it, there were memories of a person called Argella in her head. A princess of these lands. She growled in frustration as she remembered bits and pieces of the girl's life. That darn Daedra had somehow merged her with this child. A princess and the only child of King Argilac. And though her father in this world was a true warrior, the same couldn't be said of his child.
She sighed deeply. This wouldn't be easy by any means. But she had faced worse before. She would survive even this kind of life and one day she would find a way back home. And a way to wipe that damn smirk off Sanguine's face.
A/N: Alright, so much for the introduction.
I have a lot of crazy ideas for Argella and her eventual journey through the pre-conquest kingdoms of Westeros. A few of them even include Odahviing and other characters from Skyrim. Just whatever Sanguine might throw her way to annoy her.