I Became a Side Character in the World Of Skyrim

Silva managed to make her way to Northwatch Keep, her steps uneven and sluggish, as if each movement demanded more strength than she had left. Her eyes were unfocused, her gaze drifting aimlessly ahead, as though she were walking on instinct alone. The memory of Alex’s overwhelming power lingered heavily in her mind, crushing everything she had once believed in. All her pride, her confidence everything she had painstakingly built now felt meaningless. Compared to him, she was nothing.

Her breathing grew shallow, her chest rising and falling with quiet strain. The fatigue she had been holding back finally surged through her body all at once. Her vision blurred, the towering walls of Northwatch Keep wavering before her eyes. She tried to steady herself, lifting a hand as if to grasp onto something but her strength gave out.

Just a few steps from the entrance, her knees buckled.

Her body collapsed forward, hitting the ground with a dull thud.

“Hey! Someone’s down!” one of the guards shouted.

The Aldmeri soldiers stationed at the gate reacted instantly. Two of them rushed toward her, kneeling at her side. One checked her condition while the other quickly lifted her up, supporting her limp body.

“She’s still breathing get her inside, now!”

Without hesitation, they carried her into the keep.

She was laid down on a simple bed in a dim, cold room, her body finally allowed to rest. Time passed slowly, unnoticed.

Several hours later, her fingers twitched faintly.

Her eyelids fluttered, heavy and reluctant, before slowly opening. For a moment, she simply stared upward, her vision unfocused as she looked at the rough stone ceiling above her. Her breathing was quiet, uneven her mind still caught somewhere between reality and memory.

Then suddenly

Her eyes widened.

She jerked upright, inhaling sharply as if she had just been pulled from deep water. Her heart pounded violently in her chest as she looked around, her gaze snapping from one corner of the room to another.

Stone walls. A low ceiling. The faint scent of damp earth.

Her eyes finally settled on the figures nearby Aldmeri soldiers standing guard, their bodies clad in elegant yet intimidating elven armor, their presence calm but alert.

Silva froze for a moment, her breathing slowly beginning to steady.

Then realization struck.

“…Northwatch Keep…”

A quiet sense of relief washed over her, softening her tense shoulders slightly but it was fleeting. Because even as she recognized where she was, the image of Alex’s terrifying power still lingered vividly in her mind, refusing to fade.

Silva’s hand trembled as she stared at the glass beside her, her reflection faintly distorted in its surface. For a brief moment, her fingers tightened around it then suddenly

Crash!

She slammed it down with force, the sharp sound echoing through the room as the liquid inside splashed violently over the table.

“Talent?!” she spat, her voice shaking with anger. Her shoulders rose and fell with heavy breaths as she dragged a hand through her hair, gripping it tightly. “How ridiculous… Silva, do you really think you’re the best?”

Her lips curled into a bitter, almost mocking smile directed at no one but herself.

“Don’t make me laugh KGHAAK!!”

Her voice cracked at the end, the sound caught somewhere between a scoff and a choked gasp. She bent forward slightly, one hand pressing against her chest as if trying to steady the turmoil inside her.

Her eyes trembled, unfocused, as flashes of memory surged back Alex standing there, calm… overwhelming… untouchable.

The air around her seemed to grow heavier.

Anger burned fiercely within her, but beneath it lay something far more unsettling.

Doubt.

For as long as she could remember, she had taken pride in her talent. It was the one thing that defined her the reason she stood above others, the reason she believed she was untouchable.

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But now…

Her fingers slowly curled into fists, nails digging into her palms.

That belief had been shattered completely.

What she once called “talent” now felt like nothing more than a fragile illusion one that had crumbled the moment she stood before someone truly powerful.

A moment later, the faint sound of approaching footsteps echoed through the room calm, measured, composed.

Elenwen stepped into view.

Her posture was as elegant as ever, chin slightly raised, her expression controlled and unreadable. She paused a short distance from Silva, her sharp eyes studying her carefully the scattered glass, the tense posture, the uneven breathing.

“Silva,” she said smoothly, her voice calm yet carrying quiet authority. “Was the mission a success?”

Silva didn’t answer immediately.

For a few seconds, she remained completely still, her head slightly lowered, strands of hair falling across her face. Then slowly almost mechanically, she turned her head toward Elenwen.

Their eyes met.

Silva’s gaze was cold… but beneath it, something unstable flickered something unfamiliar.

A long silence stretched between them.

Then, in a low, restrained voice, Silva spoke,

“We should not provoke the tail of a dragon…”

Her fingers tightened slightly at her side, as if recalling something that made her uneasy.

“…because if we stand against it, we will be reduced to ashes.”

Elenwen’s brows knit together ever so slightly, the faintest crack in her usual composure. She tilted her head, studying Silva more closely now.

Confusion was clear in her eyes.

She had never seen Silva like this before.

Silva who carried herself with pride, who never faltered, who had never once failed a mission.

And yet now…

“Hey… hey,” Elenwen said, stepping closer, her tone shifting just a little less formal, more probing. “What’s wrong with you? What happened out there?”

Silva’s lips parted slightly, but no words came out at first.

She swallowed hard.

Her gaze drifted away, unfocused, as if she were no longer seeing the room but something else entirely.

Memories resurfaced.

That overwhelming presence. That suffocating pressure. That absolute difference in power.

Her shoulders tensed subtly.

“If we had known…” she began quietly, her voice lower now, more strained, “that the Dragonborn had someone like that by his side…”

She paused, her brows tightening faintly.

“…then our focus wouldn’t be on the Dragonborn.”

Slowly, she turned her eyes back toward Elenwen.

“But on that man instead.”

The air felt heavier as the words settled.

Silva inhaled slowly, her chest rising as she tried to steady her breathing. Her hand lifted slightly, trembling for just a moment before she clenched it into a fist, forcing herself to remain composed.

“I almost died by his hands…”

Her voice dropped further, almost to a whisper.

“…but he was too merciful.”

A bitter edge crept into her expression, her lips curling faintly not in anger this time, but something closer to disbelief.

“He only gave me a warning.”

Silence followed.

But even in that silence, the weight of what she had experienced lingered pressing down on both of them.

A faint smile slowly formed on Silva’s lips but there was no warmth in it. It was thin, fragile… almost hollow.

Her gaze lowered, strands of her hair casting shadows over her eyes as her shoulders slackened slightly, as if the weight she carried was finally beginning to show.

“Talent…?” she murmured, her voice soft and uneven.

Her fingers twitched at her side before curling inward, as though grasping at something that no longer existed.

“What a joke…”

A quiet, humorless breath escaped her lips, barely a laugh more like a broken exhale. She shook her head slowly, almost imperceptibly, as if denying her own past self.

“Everything I’ve done until now…” she continued, her voice growing quieter, more distant, “was nothing more than child’s play.”

Her eyes flickered, unfocused again, as memories of her past achievements surfaced victories that once filled her with pride… now feeling hollow, insignificant.

Then, her gaze slowly lifted.

There was a faint tremor in her eyes.

“And yet…” she whispered, her lips tightening slightly, “it turns out there are still monsters in this world.”

The word monsters lingered in the air heavy, deliberate.

Not spoken with arrogance.

But with recognition.

Elenwen said nothing. She simply stood there, watching Silva in silence, her sharp gaze carefully observing every subtle movement the trembling hands, the hollow smile, the way her voice lacked its usual confidence.

For a brief moment, even Elenwen’s composed expression faltered, her brows drawing together ever so slightly.

Someone like Silva… Gifted. Proud. Unshakable. And yet now, reduced to this. Elenwen’s eyes narrowed faintly, her thoughts beginning to turn.

(Alex…)

The name surfaced quietly in her mind.

(When we first met him, he was nothing more than a mage capable of basic telekinesis…)

Her gaze hardened slightly as she replayed that memory.

(And in such a short time… he managed to push Silva into this state?)

A subtle tension formed in her posture, though she remained outwardly calm. For someone like Silva to break like this… That could only mean one thing.

(…He’s far more dangerous than we anticipated.)

The realization settled in her mind, cold and sharp, as she continued to watch Silva in silence.

Then she suddenly recalled something. The vampire who had been with Silva.

“Wait… what about the vampire who was with you?”

Silva froze for a moment, then her eyes widened. “Ah… that’s right, I forgot!” Panic quickly spread across her face.

“What if that vampire tells them that we were involved too? What are we going to do?!”

She had completely forgotten to inform Eirik, and now fear gripped her tightly the fear that the Thalmor would be exposed for their involvement in the attempted assassination of the Dragonborn.

Elenwen then smiled calmly.

“Of course it won’t be discovered. In fact, it’s even better if he attacks the Dragonborn. That way, the threat won’t point toward us, but toward the vampires instead. Alex will end up hunting them down at Castle Volkihar.”

She then sat beside Silva, crossing her arms.

“What we need to do now is strengthen ourselves.”

Hearing that, Silva looked down at her own hands before slowly clenching them into fists.

“You’re right… I’ve truly been like a frog in a well.”

Her eyes hardened with determination.

“Starting today, I’ll train even harder.”

With that, Silva resolved herself to grow stronger.

Elenwen smiled faintly, though her thoughts ran deeper.

(Even if the recruitment failed, at least Silva has regained her motivation to train. We haven’t lost too much. As for Harkon… hmm, it seems I should completely sever ties with them, considering they will soon be destroyed.)

She then rose to her feet.

(What we must do now is strengthen our power. And according to my soldiers, the best place to grow stronger lies on an island called Solstheim… perhaps I should seek powerful allies there.)