A/N: A little idea I had a while ago. If you notice a pattern on my part about making crossovers between Bethesda RPGs and hentai scenarios, I don't blame you, I am also concerned about it.

Thanks to quentin3655 for helping me develop the idea.


Chapter 1: Bridge between dreams.

The night sky was empty. The massive blanket of the heavens, usually adorned by stars and planets, was unnaturally deserted. Masser and Secunda were gone, and the distant rips in Oblivion's fabric that made up the stars were absent, causing Mundus to plunge into absolute darkness.

The seas had dried up an eternity ago. The vast waters of Nirn were gone, now replaced by something else.

"My loyalty and friendship, rewarded with betrayal," a voice in the distance murmured, speaking in a melancholic but venomous tone. "The trust I gave you, the love I felt for you, nothing mattered when you pierced my chest with contempt."

The voice came from everywhere and at the same time from nowhere. It resonated in every corner of the blind, darkened world, varying between whispers and echoing shouts.

"But despite everything, I was loyal. Even when I died, I dreamed of being alive. I slept soundly, plagued by nightmares, by visions," the voice continued. "Finally I awoke, but in doing so, I realized I was still dreaming."

In that empty, dead world there was only a single remaining being, a hooded figure crossing the vast seas on foot, its water now replaced by tears. They were the tears accumulated over countless millennia, the product of sadness, hatred, resentment, and regret.

"My dreams gave me flesh and blood with which to stand. They allowed me to see beyond what I once thought possible, to bathe in the primeval waters. I was ecstatic, and yet, the memory of your betrayal still lay burning in my mind. In spite of everything, I did not hate you. I longed to make everything right, to begin again."

The hooded figure continued walking, apparently ignoring the omnipresent voice. It walked even though it had no feet to do so, with its bleeding stumps leaving a trail in the ocean of tears. The figure was hunched over, its darkened face permanently fixed downward, refusing to look up.

"I dreamed of punishing those who wronged us, of reprimanding the prodigals who abandoned our ideal, of correcting past mistakes," the voice seemed to take on a certain cheerfulness, now murmuring in an affectionate manner. "And above all, I dreamed of seeing you again. Even if our reunion was to be one shrouded in blood and violence, I longed to be in your presence once again. Even if your appearance was not the same, even if you spoke my name in a different voice, I knew that it would still be you."

Suddenly, a golden object fell from the sky, illuminating the dark and empty world. It shone brightly, with the same force of a sun, bringing light to that gigantic ocean, revealing a macabre scene: corpses, thousands and thousands of corpses, all floating along the sea of tears. Those who still had lips seemed to speak, desperately trying to communicate, but no word came out of their mouths.

"I waited for you. Anxiously I awaited your arrival, and even when you slaughtered my children and my relatives, my desire to see you never diminished."

The golden object finally fell in front of the hooded figure, stopping its eternal walk. It was a huge golden mask, with a countenance similar to that of a face with three eyes, with drops of blood flowing from each socket.

"We finally met again in that place, where everything began. We talked and talked, exchanged questions and answers, but despite everything, there was one doubt you never managed to answer."

The figure brought its trembling hands to the mask, lifting it with some difficulty. The powerful golden light managed to reveal the hooded figure's face, or rather the lack of it. Its face was skinless, with its bleeding flesh exposed, lacking both eyes and nose, with its teeth clenched in such a way that it could only demonstrate a constant show of agony and dread.

"Tell me, Moon-and-Star, why did you kill me?"


The Dunmer slowly opened his eyes, awakening with difficulty. The first thing he saw was the blue sky and the bright sun, which bathed his ash-skinned face with warmth.

"It happened again," he whispered under his breath as he rubbed his eyes, rising from his makeshift bed.

He reached for his canteen, seeking to wet his dry throat. He took a long drink, giving a long sigh once he pulled the canteen away from his lips. There he gazed at his surroundings: a vast ocean stretching to the horizon, without a sign of land.

Weeks had passed since he had left Azura's Coast behind, leaving Vvardenfell to begin his expedition to Akavir. The reasons why he had made such a decision were secret to everyone, only shared with a certain poet who understood his motives. He had left everything behind: fame, glory, riches yet to be claimed and adventures yet to be had, even his sacred duty to protect the land that made him a hero, all to pursue a goal that he himself was not clear about. The gods seemed to punish his selfishness, for in the midst of the voyage his ship was struck by an inclement storm, one so powerful that of the crew he was the only survivor, forced to escape in a small boat with his equipment and the few rations he could salvage.

He was now adrift, with no clear idea of where he was going, with the boat being swept away by the ocean currents. The situation was precarious, but undoubtedly the worst came at night, when he was alone with his thoughts, and worse, when he slept.

He had spared Vvardenfell from the nightmares and the Corprus, though he had not been able to save himself from them. Not only was his body still infected with the incurable disease, condemned to live with it for the rest of his immortal existence, but his dreams were plagued by nightmares. They were not attacks directed at his mind, but instead memories, twisted and distorted remembrances not only of his life, but of his previous one as well.

"No land in sight, as usual," he said as he scratched his head, still with the faint hope of soon escaping his aquatic prison.

There was not much he could do about his current predicament. He could leave the boat and levitate in the air, but without any direction his situation would hardly change.

The situation, as dire as it was, was amusing to him. In the end it would not be gods or Daedra who would end his life, but just plain bad luck. He would not die in battle and be remembered in legend, but would perish of starvation in the middle of nowhere, his existence possibly taken as a myth for generations to come. Although he was not entirely sure if he could die of starvation, for since acquiring the immortal disease he had never gone long periods without food, much less felt hunger. He ate more out of habit than necessity, without stopping to think whether he needed to or not.

In any case, it looked like he was going to be lost in the ocean for a long time, so there was plenty of time to test whether he could starve or not.

"Another day, huh," he said to himself as he lay back down in the boat, using a bag of flour as a makeshift pillow.

The Dunmer simply stared up at the sky, his bright, reddish eyes fixed on the firmament, watching the clouds pass by. Several times he had thought of using Divine Intervention or Almsivi Intervention, but he doubted they would have any effect given the distance he was at. He had also considered the option of praying to Azura and asking for help, but that was something he himself could not allow.

He was fed up with the Daedra, the gods, and the prophecies. All the tragedies he had lived through, all the problems he had had to solve, it was all a product of the gods and their games with mortals. He himself was a puppet in the service of fate, discarded once he had fulfilled his role.

He longed to escape, he yearned to be able to live a life far from divine reach, to be the master of his own destiny. He knew it was a fool's errand, traveling to another continent would not allow him to flee from the wishes of the divinities, but it was something he should at least try.

"There's not much I can do for today," he said resignedly, rubbing his face wearily.

His clothing was far from what one would expect from a legendary hero of his status, as he was simply wearing a blue common shirt and black common pants, giving him a simplistic appearance. Most of his weapons, equipment, and so on were stored in the huge backpack that lay on the other side of the boat, serving as a counterbalance to himself and what else he had managed to salvage from the ship.

Due to the need to travel light and to obtain the necessary funds for the trip, the Dunmer had decided to make several generous contributions to the Museum of Artifacts in Godsreach, where he disposed of a large number of artifacts he had collected throughout his adventure, keeping only what he considered necessary for the journey to Akavir. It was a decision he now regretted, as the money he had acquired would be of little use to him in the middle of the ocean.

His dark hair had grown out due to the long time of neglect, growing long enough to reach beyond his shoulders, something that likewise happened with his facial hair, which had grown long enough to start forming a small beard that was on its way to becoming bushy. Despite all this, his face still had a certain youthful air, appearing to be in his late twenties.

"Should I go back to sleep?" he asked himself as he covered his eyes with his arm, yawning loudly.

The nightmares he suffered were not pleasant, but at least they were a distraction from the monotony of being awake. His sanity was tested by having nothing else to do but contemplate the vast body of water around him and the occasional cloud passing overhead. He had tried to distract himself several times by summoning Dremora and Golden Saints, but the results of that were that his boat almost ended up sinking, so he had to resist the temptation if he still wanted a place to rest.

He remained in that state for a long time, maybe even hours, in a limbo between being awake and asleep, with his mind occupied with hundreds of random thoughts that came and went, all in order to keep himself mentally occupied and not succumb to the situation.

He was about to fall asleep again, ready to face whatever horror his subconscious had in store for him, but that was interrupted by a sudden thunderous collision.

CRASH

The Dunmer stood up in alarm, seeking to identify the cause of the crash. At first he thought he had reached dry land, but a quick glance at the formation in front of him was enough to dismiss that idea.

In front of him lay a massive spiky formation, so tall and large that he could barely see the end of it. He quickly glanced to the sides, finding that it was not the only one, for multiple formations of equal size and shape stretched off into the distance, encompassing the distance.

"Could it be?" he wondered in awe as he approached the huge formation. "The world's teeth…"

He had read of Nirn's supposed limits in The Thirty-Six Lessons of Vivec, but like everything in that series of books, he had interpreted it as metaphorical. He had never expected to reach the earthly limits of the world, and that he had done so meant that his shipwreck had been worse than he had imagined. Now he was at the end of the world, cut off from any kind of civilization, on the border between Nirn and the nothingness outside Mundus.

Still amazed by the discovery, the Dunmer remained silent, contemplating what he had until recently considered myth. However, that was not the only surprise, as, to his shock, the ship began to shake violently. For a moment he considered that he was under attack, perhaps by some sort of sea monster, so he quickly went to his backpack so he could grab one of his weapons and prepare for combat, but seeing the spiky formations similarly shaking made him realize that it wasn't just the boat that was trembling.

A cracking sound echoed, and to his horror, the formation he had run aground with was beginning to succumb, crumbling and with it allowing the stream of water to flow, dragging the boat with it.

"B'vek?!" he exclaimed as he clutched his backpack, prepared to conjure a levitation spell, but finding himself impeded by the enormous force of gravity pulling him down.

A small fissure formed at the edge of the world, creating a waterfall into absolute nothingness, with water flowing and falling into the Void below Mundus.

The Dunmer could only watch helplessly as he flowed away from Nirn, now surrounded in absolute darkness. His perception of time began to distort as he fell, able to see events transpiring during and after his descent. The last thing he could see were the fissures opening up in reality, witnessing the opening of gates throughout the world. Predators from Oblivion were beginning to enter the mortal plane as he was lost to the Void.

On that day, the Nerevarine fell from the world.


Last night's storm had been disastrous. Most of the coastline had been washed away, several vessels had run aground or sunk, important cargoes had been lost and entire crews had fallen into the treacherous waters, with some still yet to be found. It was a disastrous event for the Dark Elf nation, the worst in recent history.

The various Houses that governed the nation were in chaos due to the sudden catastrophe, with each one occupied in its own territory, refusing to help the other parts of the country. Representatives from each House had met in the capital to discuss a possible plan of action in the face of the tragedy, but everything had been reduced to a verbal war between the representatives, with the Discordia and Arte Houses being the most vociferous. The pride of the Dark Elves prevented them from recognizing their own faults, so that any meeting between the Houses was reduced to simple personal attacks and slander, barely being able to cooperate for the greater good.

Coastal villages were evacuated and repositioned, with each House taking priority with the villages under their control. The once lively shores were now deserted, with nary an inhabitant in sight, all with the exception of a small hut perched on a beach cliff. No one bothered to evacuate the place, for even in times of emergency it was a forbidden location. There lived an outcast, someone who by Law had to remain isolated from the rest of Dark Elf society.

There, standing on the tip of the cliff, lay a solitary Dark Elf, who watched the now calm sea with a dull gaze. Her long white hair fluttered in the sea wind, her figure hidden behind a long brown robe that covered every part of her body, only exposing her face and bare feet.

The look in her violet eyes was a melancholic one, with whatever light they might once have had extinguished long ago. There she contemplated the disaster caused by the storm, one that had miraculously taken mercy on her small hut as it swept away the other nearby buildings, a fact that would undoubtedly fuel the contempt to which she was subjected by the locals.

"It's getting late," she murmured as she began to turn away.

She was about to leave and return to her hut, but before she could do so, she caught a glimpse of something out of the corner of her eye.

"Huh?"

She could see something being dragged by the water current towards the shore. At first she thought it was a piece of wood or something similar, but when she paid attention she realized that it was a body. For a moment she took on a sorrowful expression, saddened to see how another life had been lost in the storm. She was about to turn away from the depressing scene, but seeing how the body seemed to be dragging in the sand alarmed her. Whoever it was, it was still alive.

Without even thinking about it, she started a race to the beach, seeking to help the shipwrecked stranger. The length of her cloak prevented her from running more freely, but that was preferable to showing more of her vulgar skin.

It took her a long time to get there, but she finally made it to the beach. There she could see the stranger lying face down on the sand, with most of their body wrapped in ropes, pieces of wood, and seaweed.

She approached him cautiously, bending down to get a closer look.

"Are you awake?" she asked with noticeable concern, bringing her hand up to the stranger's head.

The stranger did not reply. They had possibly passed out from exhaustion from crawling through the sand, and from what she could see, that huge backpack they were carrying was a massive weight that contributed to their fatigue.

She could not allow the stranger to remain in that position, as they could easily suffocate. With some difficulty she managed to turn them over, allowing them to lie down with their back to the sand, and thereby revealing their face.

"Goodness!" she exclaimed in astonishment as she took a step backward.

That individual had unnatural, ash-gray skin, with long, pointed ears like those of an elf. It was a bizarre being, something that escaped logic, but somehow it existed.

Again she approached, though now with one hand on the knife she kept in her pocket.

"What are you?" she managed to ask, though not entirely sure if the being could understand her.

Out of nowhere the individual opened his eyes, revealing them to be reddish and glowing like those of a demon, a fact that caused her to unsheathe her knife almost instinctively. She thought he was going to attack her, but far from that he seemed to whisper a few words in a language completely unknown to her, although from the way he expressed himself, he seemed to be asking for help.

The mysterious man remained like that for a few seconds before succumbing again to exhaustion, closing his eyes and losing consciousness.

The Dark Elf remained still, unsure of what to do or how to react. The shipwrecked man was not something she knew, she couldn't even be sure if he fit the description of some of the species that inhabited Serenus, or worse, if he was some of the fiends that plagued the continent.

With a knife in hand she hesitated whether to put an end to the life of what could easily be a humanoid looking monster, whether to leave it to its fate and retreat, or whether to put it all at risk and help it. For a moment she was tempted by the first option, for the thought of leaving a possible monster haunted her. Not only because he could easily recover and attack someone, a fact that would be on her conscience, but also because she would have the opportunity to do what she wished someone had done for her so many years ago: annihilate a monstrosity before it could harm her.

She gripped the handle of the knife tightly, taking in air as she positioned the weapon above the grayish neck of the would-be monster. She began to tremble, as hesitation prevented her from delivering the final blow.

Anger consumed her, the desire for revenge that she had so long suppressed, now directed at that stranger. She could kill him, and no one would blame her, she would do the world a favor. She would get rid of him before he could hurt anyone, before he could ruin anyone's life, before he could make someone else become like her.

The Dark Elf raised her knife high in the air, letting out a cry of fury as she brought the weapon with force, aimed at the stranger's neck.

STAB

The sharp steel of the knife found itself buried in sand, just a few inches from the man's neck. A last-minute decision forced her to divert the course of her attack.

That man was a freak, a being of unnatural and disturbing appearance, undoubtedly a person who belonged nowhere. He was someone destined to be rejected by the world... just like her.

"I'm hopeless, aren't I?," she mused, letting out a small, bitter chuckle.

As depressing as it sounded, perhaps the only person she could identify with was a monstrous-looking stranger who had been swept away by the current. Perhaps it was a childish and irrational desire, but the idea of being able to meet with someone who could understand her hardships was enough to take the risk.

The Dark Elf slowly stood up, putting her knife back in her pocket. There she contemplated the stranger's body and the backpack he carried with him. At first glance she could guess that it weighed more than she could handle, and given the distance to her hut, it would only complicate the trip further. So she began to drag the stranger's body across the sand, beginning the long and difficult journey back home. As she did so, she looked up, contemplating how the clouds had dissipated, allowing a beautiful view of the starry night sky.

That night the moon and stars were shining brightly.