Ysmir let out a huff. Taking out another Stormcloak remnant group would have been hard enough. But no, they had to have all been thralls of a group of Volkihar remnants. Then more Thalmor rookies showed up. He had already had to explain to Elenwen that he was as sick of the new "Ysmir is a God" cult that had strung up from Miraak's old followers as the Thalmor were. Four years since Miraak's defeat, and they still were growing in number.
Unfortunately, rookies assigned to Skyrim kept finding the old records they had of the groups from before his explanation and wanted to take him down to discourage a "Second Talos". Elenwen had agreed that if these idiots wanted death so bad, they could have it. Even she recognized that demanding compensation for their deaths from someone whose soul was crafted by a god was a bad idea.
Ysmir sighed, knowing he would have to deal with ANOTHER meeting to report the young Altmer's death. He really wished they would leave him alone. He took out his Map, and touched the symbol for Whiterun. He had never quite figured out where it came from - it had simply appeared on him one day in his youth - though considering it takes a jump through time as well as space, he suspected it had something to do with Akatosh. A flash of light, and he was at the entrance to Whiterun, the sun setting in the distance.
Two voices rang out. "FATHER!"
A smile spread across Ysmir's face as he took off his helm. Despite crafting and distributing dozens of Daedric Armor sets througout Skyrim, his daughters were always able to recognize him from the others. Maybe it was the way he walked, maybe it was that "women's intuition" he kept hearing about. Either way, he could be hidden amongst dozens of folks in full Daedric sets and they would find him.
He remembered adopting Lucia and Sofie as though it was yesterday. They had grown much in 10 years, to the point that he had a wary eye on the boys that called themselves their friends. He didn't want to deal with a younger version of Mikael anytime soon.
"Drem Yol Lok, moni. How are you two today. Where's your mother and aunts?"
Lucia answered first. "Mother is at her new trading shop-"
"-Aunt Lydia is training the new guards-"
"-and Aunt Serana has a new job helping Arcadia brew potions."
Ysmir's smile widened. Ysolda was proud to have finally gotten her own shop. It had taken several months to build, since Ysmir wouldn't let her settle for anything but the best. Lydia had been doing well since becoming the captain of Whiterun's guards. Serana just did a lot of odd jobs when not taking down more bandits.
It was always strange yet amusing to hear his daughters speak together. They were almost like twins. Didn't help that they had the same birthday.
He was grateful that the women in his life were there to keep the girls company. Before Miraak's defeat 4 years ago, he barely got a break to spend time with them. There was always another crisis. The Civil War, The Brotherhood, the Thieves' Guild, even Winterhold. J'zargo defeating him in magical combat for the Archmage position and figuring out how to transfer the Listener status had greatly increased the free time he could spend with his family. Good thing he decided not to be a Nightingale.
He could still remember the event 4 years ago that finally ended his constant travelling.
//Flashback//
"HAHAHA HAHAHA!"
Ysmir could taste blood in his mouth for the first since Harkon's defeat. He had never been broken this badly since the battle with Alduin that had half of Sovngarde diasappear into his gullet. Both of those had been a piece of cake compared to this. Miraak had dozens of shouts he had never even heard of. He had been battered through hundreds of books that had been torn apart by following shouts. The original platform they had fought on had long since been destroyed by the force of their shouts.
That's not to say he hadn't damaged Miraak as well. Some of the shouts had been rearrangements of words he knew well, either from Word Walls or meditation with Paarthurnax. What he lacked in power, he made up for in ingenuity, even figuring out how to create Alduin's Meteors. And he was a former Archmage for a reason. Only J'zargo outstripped him in magic- and even then, his fire spells burned hotter.
But over time, Miraak had worn him down. He had even tried summoning Durnehviir, but while the dragon's soul stayed with him, his body was wrecked. It would be weeks before he could summon him again...
Assuming he got out of this, that is.
Miraak voice held triumph and disdain, as he lifted Ysmir by the throat. "So, any last words, Laat Dovahkiin."
As Ysmir hung there, he thought of his life since that faithful day in Helgen. The friends he had made, the trials he had overcome... the family he had formed. He decided this would NOT be the end. He had not fought tooth and nail to make a safer world for his family, just to be ended like THIS. He could not let it end here. As he thought this, he remembered what Miraak had done to Sahrotaar. He knew it would be a long shot, but he had no other choice. He was determined to see his family again.
Mustering all his mastery of the Voice, he looked Miraak in the eye through slits in his mask.
"Just four : ZIIL LOS DII DU!"
They both started screaming in agonizing pain as the shout, against all odds, took effect. Miraak as his soul was torn out, feeling the same pain he had dealt to others. Ysmir as he felt thousands of years of knowledge, as well as dozens of Dovah-Sille flowing into him at once. As the force of shout reached a zenith, a rift formed, sending Ysmir and Miraak's body out of Apocrypha.
The raging shouts of Hermaeus Mora could be heard behind them, as the Demon of Knowledge wondered HOW the Dragonborns defied his records of how the battle would go. How did they defy fate itself?!
//End flashback//
Ysmir finished the stew in the pot. Many had asked him why he preferred Breezeholme over the other properties he holds. He preferred the modest house because it felt more homely than the others, not so over-the-top. Whiterun being a good location for Ysolda's trade shop helped, too.
"Lucia, go wake up Terek for dinner."
"Yes, father."
Terek was an old squatter he had found living in the house when he bought it. Had some delusion that he owned the place. Ysmir didn't really mind. He was a good roommate and was pretty good with children, surprisingly. He had become an honorary uncle in less than a month.
He ruffled his black hair, his golden eyes blinking after some of the boiling broth popped and landed in them. Constant magic and Thu'um use and experimentation had made him resistant to many things. He had just finished setting bowls at the table when-
"WAKE UP, UNCLE TEREK!"
"What in Oblivion!"
Ah, right. He often forgot how hard Terek worked lately. The discovery of Ebony deposits near Whiterun had opened up new job opportunities for many, and Terek had jumped at the chance to help provide for those living in "his" house, especially his beloved nieces. This also meant he slept much more heavily than he used to.
"Come on, Terek, it's dinner time," Ysmir called up.
"Alright, I'm coming, I'm coming."
Unfortunately, their shouting had woken up Belgundr. Ysmir sighed, grabbing a milk bottle from the Frostbox.
The Frostbox had been something his magical research had let him create, letting liquid stay cold longer so it didn't spoil. The patent on that, as well as his teachings on Enchantments and Potions, had both earned him more coin as well as making many a Nord head towards Winterhold. Knowing the Dragonborn had learned magic there to help him in his battle against Alduin had all but destroyed the prejudice against mages in Skyrim. J'zargo certainly enjoyed teaching them. Only the Jarl of Winterhold seemed to hold onto it, but Ysmir could tell it had always been an act to distract from the real problems in Winterhold. From the news Archmage J'zargo sent, Ysmir gave it a month before the lying greedy pirate-supporter was thrown out of Winterhold by his own guards.
(Edit: I realize now that this was a continuity problem. Korir gets replaced in game if you become an Imperial Soldier. So let's just say he made a deal with some higher-ups in the Legion when he realized that Ysmir joined Tullius.)
Ysmir looked down at his son, Belgundr Dovahkiir, Dragon-Child. Learning that Ysolda had been pregnant had been both the happiest and most terrifying moment of his life. He loved all his children equally, but he had to admit he felt a strong connection to the child he helped bring into existence.
"This one wonders how raising a child would be. K'vachi knows not."
Ysmir looked over at Sheogorath. He had taken the form of an Alfiq Khajiit, black fur on the right side, orange on the left. The fact that both eyes were blue clued him in that this wasn't the Prince of Madness he was speaking to. It was the Hero of Kvatch. Learning that they had mantled Sheogorath after beating Jyggalag had been surprising, to say the least.
"I don't know. You seem to handle the kids fine whenever you come over, K'vachi," Ysmir said assuredly, as he was feeding Belgundr. K'vachi had been here on multiple instances to speak and play with the kids.
"K'vachi thanks you, but raising one's own child would be different, no?"
"I guess."
They sat in comfortable silence until Belgundr fell asleep.
"K'vachi wonders how you handle it all."
"What do you mean?"
K'vachi looked thoughtful for a moment before answering. "You have been through so much. And yet you can comfortably choose a quiet life after all that. Your mind and soul are at peace. The reason this one was able to mantle Sheggorath was because my mind had been cracked greatly long before the Shivering Isles. And yet, despite being in Sheggorath's presence so much, your mind holds. How?"
Ysmir thought for a bit before answerring. "I don't rightfully know. Maybe it's my family, maybe it's my dragon soul, maybe it's Paarthurnax's teachings, maybe it's a combination of all those and more. I don't really think about it. Why dwell on the past when you can look to the future?"
"K'vachi, understands, we think."
Ysmir looks to his 9-month-old son. "Sleeping through all that, huh?"
"Maybe you should try feeding him liquid cheese! It's just milk with something extra!"
Ysmir looked to his right to see the Cheshire grin and black-and-yellow eyes of Sheogorath staring at him from the Alfiq's face.
"Damn it, Sheo, what is it now?"
Sheogorath never interrupted K'vachi except to tease him with hints of something important.
"Just reminding you to read more often!" With that, the floating cat turned into a statue of shaped cheese that fell to the floor.
Ysmir sighed, before throwing the cheese statue into a seemingly bottomless chest simply labeled 'Sheo's Cheese Statues.'
Needless to say, that happened a lot.
//Time Skip//
After eating his dinner and greeting his wife when she came home, they all discussed the day. They all laughed together at Ysmir's luck, Terek especially.
"Really, roomie? Vampires, Thrallcloaks AND Thalmor Rookies?"
"Yep."
Ysolda's trading business had been doing greatly. Especially since a lot of people would give an arm and a leg for one of Ysmir's armors. And not necessarily their own.
Terek had actually been ordered to take a few days off. Apparently, he was working so hard, that the other workers were getting lazy, expecting him to do all the work they weren't. The supervisor of the recently named Shezzar's Blood Mine didn't want to be paying lazy workers.
Sofie had been getting swordsmanship lessons from Lydia, while Lucia took magic lessons from Serana and Farengar. Farengar was eager to teach the daughter of a former Archmage, even if it meant taking time off from his research.
Later, after everyone but Ysmir and Ysolda had gone to sleep.
"So, Ysmir, plan on visiting Lydia and Serana tomorrow?"
"Sure. Still hard to believe those two got married sometimes. But I'm glad they're happy. Still remember all the pep talk Mjoll, Cicero and I had to give to Serana just to get Serana to go into the cathedral."
Ysmir noticed his wife wasn't looking at him. Seemingly staring off into Oblivion. "Ysolda, what's wrong?"
"Nothing, it's just-" Ysolda took a deep breath to steady herself- " are you... happy with me?"
Ysmir couldn't help but sigh. "Really, this again?"
"I know, I know, it's just, you're this grand hero who's saved the world and I'm just... a trader."
Simple words, but ones that held great weight to them. Ysmir walked over to his wife and kissed her softly.
"Ysolda, you make me the happiest I've ever been. I told you that when we married, when we had Belgundr, and every day I could. You make me and our children happy. And I thnk the fact I haven't run off with some other woman would signify I'm happy with you."
He raised their right hands to her vision, empathizing the two matching rings on their fingers. Rings Ysmir had crafted himself at the Skyforge.
They were longer than most rings, each one taking up a whole segment of the wearer's ring finger. Most of it had been made with Stalhrim, with etchings depicting clouds. Two dragons, one male, one female had their snouts touching. The Male was made from Daedric Metal, with small specks of gold representing his eyes. The Female was made of gold, and her eyes were the most special part. They had been made of the last pieces of Aetherium leftover from when he had crafted the Crown. A silver encryption in Dovahzul read:
'Zu'u koraav ko miniil, Zu'u koraav Lovok.'
It roughly translated to "I look into your eyes, I see Aetherius."
He had invented an entirely new Enchantment method to put every enchantment he had learned over the years into the rings, as well as a new one he invented called "Love's Strength", which tripled the power of every other enchantment it had when both rings were close- in other words, when they were with each other. It was one of the few magical inventions he refused to share with anyone.
"I love you, Ysolda. You brought me back from the brink, you bring joy to my life, and never has there ever been even the whisper of regret in my mind, heart, or soul about marrying you. I look into your eyes, I see paradise."
Remembering K'vachi's question, Ysmir realized he had the answer. Definitely family.
Ysolda's smile was so wide it hurt a bit, but the little pain there was didn't even register as much as the tears of joy spilling down her cheeks.
"Thank you, again," she said, before kissing him passionately.
Ysmir didn't get much sleep that night, not that he minded. Made him pretty glad he stumbled upon that Soundproof enchantments for walls and doors.
/Tomorrow morning/
Ysolda and Ysmir were preparing breakfast together. As they were handing out the bowls, a knock at the door sounded.
Sofie stood up. "I'll get it!"
"Hold it, young lady!"
Ysmir handed her a Daedric dagger. His time as an assassin had taught him to be wary. All his friends and family had been taught the tricks to counter an assasination attempt. All but Serana and Cicero assumed it had been because of the people he had pissed off, like the Silver-Bloods, that he had needed to learned these tricks. If they only knew.
Sofie opened the wooden slit to the door, keeping the dagger at eye level to deflect a blade or needle.
"Oh, it's Miss Phina."
Sofie let the 'family friend' in. She had short, red hair, high cheekbones, and a youthful face that belied her many years. Her iron armor gave away that she wasn't here for a social visit.
Phina Bladeheart, formerly known as Delphine. The trip 6 years ago to Riften assured no one would recognize her or Esbern.
"Miss Bladeheart," Terek spoke up, "to what do what do we owe the pleasure of your presence."
Phina looked over to Ysmir. "The delegation from the Imperial City has arrived in Whiterun. They are awaiting you in Dragonsreach."
Ysmir stared. "Oh."
Welp, time to prove he's the Dragonborn.
Again.