I'm Really Not the Dragonborn.

Riften, with its canals and ramshackle buildings, reeked of fish and desperation. It was the perfect place to disappear, and Ibnor, or Loki as Harin knew him, intended to do just that. He knew the Thieves Guild operated within the city's underbelly, and he needed information.

He found a discreet corner in the marketplace, a shadowed alley frequented by unsavory characters. After a few well-placed coins and veiled inquiries, a message was relayed to Brynjolf. The meeting was arranged in the Ratway, a labyrinthine network of tunnels beneath the city.

Loki, his masked face impassive, met Brynjolf in a dimly lit chamber. He spoke in a low, muffled voice, offering gold in exchange for information. He asked about recent events, about significant historical occurrences. He danced around the specifics, careful not to reveal too much, but Brynjolf, ever perceptive, sensed something unusual.

"You're looking for something specific, friend," Brynjolf said, his eyes narrowed. "Something more than just idle gossip."

Loki simply placed another pouch of gold on the table. "Information about time," he said cryptically. "About shifts in the timeline."

Brynjolf raised an eyebrow. "Time? That's a strange request." But he wasn't one to turn down gold. He delved into local histories, consulting with scholars and tapping into the Guild's extensive network of informants.

Days later, they met again. Brynjolf presented Loki with a collection of fragmented accounts, whispers of unusual occurrences, and scholarly debates on the nature of time. Piecing it together, Loki realized the staggering truth: he had been flung roughly fifteen years into the past.

The implications were dizzying. He was living in a time before his own arrival in Skyrim, a time before the events that had shaped his life. The potential for paradoxes was immense. He had to be careful.

But there was also a glimmer of hope. Among the information Brynjolf provided were whispers of an Elder Scroll held by a reclusive vampire clan dwelling in a hidden cave. Elder Scrolls, artifacts of immense power, were known to manipulate time and space. Could one of them be the key to returning to his own time?

The risk was enormous. Dealing with vampires was never easy. But the possibility of returning home, or at least to his own time, was too tempting to ignore. He had to take the chance.

The problem, as always, was Harin. How could he pursue this lead without jeopardizing her safety, or worse, creating a paradox that could erase her existence? He couldn't leave her alone in Riften, a city rife with danger. But taking her with him on such a perilous mission was equally risky.

He spent sleepless nights agonizing over the decision, running through countless scenarios. Each possibility presented new problems. He could try to find a safe place for her to stay, but trusting anyone in Riften was a gamble. He could try to disguise her and bring her along, but that was a dangerous charade to maintain.

He considered every angle, every contingency, until his head throbbed. Finally, exhausted and frustrated, he made a different decision. He wouldn't leave Riften just yet. He needed more information, more time to plan. Rushing into a confrontation with a vampire clan, especially with Harin's safety at stake, was foolish.

He returned to their small, rented room above a dingy tavern. Harin was mending a tear in his tunic, her brow furrowed in concentration.

"We're not leaving just yet," Loki said, his voice muffled by the mask.

Harin looked up, surprised. "I thought we were heading north."

"Plans have changed," Loki said, pacing the small room. "I need to… gather more information."

Harin watched him, her eyes narrowed. She could sense his restlessness, the tension radiating from him. "Information about what?" she asked.

Loki hesitated. He still didn't want to tell her about the Elder Scroll or the vampires. "About… how to get us back," he said finally, choosing his words carefully.

Harin's expression softened. She stood up and placed a hand on his arm. "Loki," she said gently, "I know you're worried. But we're in this together. Whatever it is, you can tell me."

Loki looked down at her, his masked gaze meeting hers. He saw the trust in her eyes, the unwavering loyalty that had bound them together for so long. He wanted to confide in her, but he couldn't risk putting her in danger.

"It's complicated," he said, his voice low. "It's… dangerous."

Harin squeezed his arm. "We've faced danger before," she said firmly. "We'll face it again. Together."

Loki remained silent for a moment, considering her words. He knew she was right. They had faced many dangers together, and they had always come through. But this was different. This involved forces beyond their understanding, forces that could unravel the very fabric of time.

"I promise I'll tell you everything… when the time is right," he said finally. "But for now, we need to stay here. We need to be careful."

Harin nodded, accepting his answer, though a hint of worry still lingered in her eyes. "What will we do in the meantime?" she asked.

Loki looked around the small room, his gaze settling on a worn deck of cards lying on a table. "We'll wait," he said, a hint of a smile in his voice. "And while we wait… perhaps a game of cards?"

Harin's lips curved into a smile. "As long as you promise not to cheat," she said, picking up the deck.

Loki chuckled, a muffled sound from behind the mask. "I would never," he said, though the mischievous glint in his eyes suggested otherwise.

And so they stayed in Riften, for the time being. Loki continued to gather information, discreetly meeting with Brynjolf and other contacts, piecing together the fragments of knowledge he needed. Harin, meanwhile, kept busy, practicing her skills, exploring the city's less dangerous areas, and keeping Loki company during their long hours of waiting. They played cards, told stories, and shared quiet moments of companionship, their bond growing stronger with each passing day.

One day, while hunting on the outskirts of Riften, Loki heard a chilling combination: a scream followed by harsh laughter. He moved cautiously towards the sound, his hand instinctively resting on the hilt of his sword. He emerged from the trees to a gruesome scene: a small family, a man and a woman, lay dead by the roadside, their belongings scattered around them. Three bandits were rummaging through the wreckage, their laughter echoing through the air. A young woman huddled nearby, her face pale with terror.

Loki didn't hesitate. He drew his sword and charged, a silent, masked figure erupting from the treeline. The bandits, caught off guard, barely had time to react. Loki moved with brutal efficiency, his movements honed by years of survival. The fight was swift and decisive. Within moments, the bandits lay dead, their laughter silenced forever.

Loki approached the young woman cautiously. She looked up at him, her eyes wide with fear and gratitude. He could see the resemblance now, faint but undeniable. This was Haelga, years younger, before the establishment of her renowned bunkhouse.

"Are you alright?" Loki asked, his voice muffled by the mask.

Haelga nodded, tears streaming down her face. "They… they killed my parents," she sobbed.

Loki knelt beside her, his masked gaze gentle. "I'm sorry," he said simply. There were no words that could ease her pain, but he offered her a silent presence, a symbol of protection in the midst of tragedy.

He helped her bury her parents, a somber task performed under the watchful gaze of the setting sun. Afterwards, he led her back towards Riften, offering what little comfort he could.

The incident weighed heavily on Loki. He had intervened, altering the course of Haelga's life, however slightly. He had always been careful to avoid any actions that could significantly impact the timeline, but this… this was different. He couldn't have stood by and done nothing.

He decided to help Haelga settle in Riften, providing her with the resources and support she needed to rebuild her life. He knew that simply giving her gold wouldn't be enough. She needed a purpose, a way to support herself. An idea sparked in his mind, a concept from his own time, something that didn't exist in this era of Skyrim.

He approached Haelga a few days later, after she had begun to recover from her ordeal. "I have an idea," he said, his voice muffled. "A way for you to make a living, a way to help others."

He explained his concept: a bunkhouse, an establishment where working people could rent a bed for a short period of time. It was a simple idea, but revolutionary for Skyrim. There were inns, of course, but they were often expensive and catered to travelers. There was nothing for the common laborers of Riften, the dockworkers, the miners, the merchants.

Haelga listened intently, her eyes widening with each new detail. It was a bold idea, but she saw the potential. With Loki's help, she secured a small building near the docks and began renovations. Loki, with his knowledge of architecture and engineering from his own time, helped design the layout, maximizing space and efficiency. He used his own resources, carefully saved over the years, to purchase materials and hire local carpenters. He remained in the background, a silent benefactor, his masked presence a constant source of support.

Within a few months, Haelga's Bunkhouse was open for business. It was an immediate success. The working people of Riften flocked to the establishment, eager for affordable and comfortable lodging. Haelga, with her natural warmth and kindness, quickly became a beloved figure in the city.

Loki watched from the shadows, his masked face impassive, a quiet satisfaction filling him. He had helped Haelga find her footing, creating something new and beneficial for the community. More importantly, he had set in motion the events that would lead to the Haelga he remembered, the Haelga who owned the bunkhouse. He had, in a way, ensured his own past. He had created a stable point in this altered timeline, a fixed point that connected him to his original reality.

Haelga, however, felt a deep and unpayable debt to the masked man who had saved her life and given her this new opportunity. She didn't know how to express her gratitude. In her desperation, she decided to offer him the only thing she felt truly belonged to her: herself. She was afraid he would reject her, this strange, silent protector, but she felt driven by an overwhelming need to repay him.

One evening, after the bunkhouse had closed for the night, Haelga invited Loki for a drink. She had prepared a special brew, laced with a potent aphrodisiac she had acquired from a traveling apothecary. She was nervous, her heart pounding in her chest as she waited for him.

Loki arrived, his masked face as unreadable as ever. He accepted the drink, unaware of its true nature. As he drank, Haelga watched him, her eyes filled with a mixture of hope and fear.

"Loki," she began, her voice trembling slightly, "I… I don't know how to thank you. For everything you've done for me. You saved my life. You gave me this… this place." She gestured around the now-empty common room of the bunkhouse. "I… I owe you everything."

Loki remained silent for a moment, his masked gaze fixed on the flickering candlelight. "You owe me nothing," he said, his voice muffled. "I did what anyone would have done."

Haelga shook her head, tears welling up in her eyes. "No," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "You did more than anyone would have done. You gave me back my life." She took a deep breath, steeling herself for what she was about to do. "And… I want to repay you. In any way I can."

The effects of the aphrodisiac were subtle at first, but soon, a warmth spread through Loki's body. He felt a stirring he had long suppressed, a primal desire he had kept buried deep within himself. He had been careful to maintain a distance from Harin, acutely aware of the impropriety of any romantic or sexual interest given her young physical age. This self-imposed restraint had been a constant struggle, a battle against his own nature. But now, with Haelga, a woman of appropriate age, the dam within him broke.

"Haelga…" Loki began, his voice slightly deeper, a hint of confusion in it. He felt a strange warmth, an unfamiliar loosening of his inhibitions.

Haelga reached out, her hand gently touching his masked arm. "Please, Loki," she whispered. "Let me."

The night that followed was a whirlwind of passion. Loki, a surprisingly skilled practitioner of Dibellan arts, ironically thanks to Haelga of the future, unleashed the desires he had so long suppressed. Haelga, initially hesitant, quickly succumbed to the intensity of his embrace. She had never experienced such raw passion, such skilled and devoted attention.

In the aftermath, a complex mix of emotions swirled within Haelga. There was gratitude, certainly, but also a newfound sense of dependence, a craving for the intense pleasure she had experienced. She lay beside Loki, tracing the outline of his masked face with her fingertips.

"Loki," she breathed, her voice laced with a newfound wonder, "that… that was…" She reached out, her fingers tracing the cold metal of his mask.

Loki's breath hitched. He felt a pang of something he couldn't quite name – a mixture of relief at finally releasing the tension within him, and a deep, gnawing guilt. He had taken advantage of her gratitude, however willingly offered.

"It was… for you," Haelga whispered, her eyes fixed on his masked face. A strange light flickered in their depths.

Loki's muffled voice was barely a whisper. "Haelga…"

"Do you… do you want me to… again?" she asked, her voice barely audible, but her gaze held a surprising intensity.

The question hung in the air, charged with unspoken desires and complicated emotions. Loki remained silent, unsure how to respond. He had unleashed something he didn't fully understand, a connection that went beyond simple gratitude.

Unbeknownst to him, his unconsciously masterful application of Dibellan Arts had ignited a fire within Haelga. It was more than just physical pleasure; it was an awakening, a craving for the unique intensity he had shown her. She felt drawn to him, almost obsessively, the memory of their shared intimacy burning in her mind. Loki, the masked stranger, had inadvertently created a bond that would irrevocably shape their future.

The clandestine encounters continued, a delicate balance maintained by Haelga's persistent gratitude and Loki's pragmatic acceptance. He felt no emotional connection to her; he simply accepted the intimacy she offered as a form of repayment, a meal laid before him that he chose to partake in. It was a temporary arrangement, a way to provide her with comfort and a sense of normalcy in the wake of her trauma. He never initiated contact, never lingered longer than necessary, and never offered any words of affection or endearment.

Then, one night, as they lay together in the quiet aftermath, Haelga's hand brushed against the clasp of Loki's mask. It came undone, the metal plate shifting slightly, revealing a sliver of his face in the dim light. Haelga gasped, her eyes widening.

Loki froze, a flicker of annoyance crossing his mind. He had been so careful. He instinctively reached for the mask, but then paused. He looked at Haelga, her expression a mixture of surprise and… curiosity. He decided against replacing the mask. It was done.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean…" Haelga stammered, her voice filled with a mixture of shock and apology.

Loki sighed, a sound no longer muffled. He considered the situation. There was no point in pretending anymore.

"It's alright," he said, his voice now clear and resonant. "Just keep it to yourself." He paused, a hint of dry amusement entering his eyes. "Consider it a… reward," he said, referring to her developing skills in the arts of Dibella.

A faint blush rose on Haelga's cheeks, but a small, hesitant smile touched her lips.

Loki's tone shifted, becoming more businesslike. "And my farewell," he continued.

Haelga's smile faded. "Where are you going?" she asked, a thread of concern in her voice.

"Far away," Loki replied. "But don't worry. You will see me again," he said, a hint of a cryptic smile playing on his lips, a reminder of the future he knew.

"By that time, I may need your help."

Haelga's brow furrowed slightly. "My help? With what?"

"It'll be a small matter for you," Loki said, his voice low and mysterious, "but I'm planning something big."

Haelga reached out and briefly touched his arm, a simple gesture of acknowledgment. "Just say the word," she said, her voice steady, "and I'll help the best I can."

Loki gave a curt nod, a silent acceptance of her promise. He had no doubt she would keep her word. He had seen her strength and resilience.

The night concluded with a quiet, almost impersonal understanding. As dawn approached, Loki returned to the small room he and Harin shared above the tavern. He planned to leave alone, to shield her from the dangers that lay ahead. He began packing his meager belongings, carefully rolling his furs and checking his weapons.

Just as he was about to slip out the door, Harin entered the room. She stopped short, her eyes widening as she took in the scene: Loki's packed bag, the determined set of his jaw.

"Where are you going?" she asked, her voice sharp, a hint of accusation in her tone.

Loki turned to face her, a sigh escaping his lips. He had hoped to avoid this conversation. "I'm going north," he said, keeping his voice neutral. "I have… business to attend to."

Harin crossed her arms, her gaze unwavering. "Alone?"

Loki hesitated. He knew he couldn't lie to her, not entirely. "It's… safer that way," he said finally.

"Safer for whom?" Harin retorted, her voice rising slightly. "You think I can't take care of myself? After everything we've been through?"

Loki looked at her, his expression softening. He saw the fire in her eyes, the determination that mirrored his own. He knew she wouldn't back down.

"It's not that I don't trust you, Harin," he said, his voice low and sincere. "It's just… this is different. This is dangerous. I don't want to put you at risk."

"And what makes you think I'm not already at risk?" Harin countered, her voice laced with a hint of hurt. "We're always at risk, Loki. That's the world we live in. But we face it together. Always."

Loki remained silent for a moment, considering her words. He knew she was right. They had faced countless dangers together, and they had always prevailed. He couldn't deny her now.

"Fine," he said finally, a hint of resignation in his voice. "You can come." A small, almost imperceptible smile touched his lips. "But you stay close. And you do as I say."

Harin's face lit up with a triumphant grin. "Of course," she said, her voice filled with excitement. "Wouldn't dream of it any other way."

With a shared look of understanding, they left the room, their destination set: Dimhollow Crypt, and the uncertain future that awaited them there.