mareenavee

[mareenavee]

So I've been chipping away at a little (big) post that I put up on reddit yesterday, and given the good reception there I have decided it might be a good idea to share it here as well.

In the interests of sparing your dashes, most of it will be under the cut, and for anyone interested the original link can be found here.

Why You Should Kill Paarthurnax: A Modest Proposal

If you meet the Buddha on the road, kill him.

The Paarthurnax quest is something of a paradox within the Skyrim community, being simultaneously one of the more popular subjects of discussion yet at the same time one of the most unilaterally agreed-upon opinions in the community. And yet, the very existence of the quest suggests that Bethesda did not intend the decision to be so simple - but there is precious little in the game to offer a substantial reason to pick the Blades over Paarthurnax, whether for narrative or for gameplay purposes.

So, today I decided to take it upon myself to play a little bit of devil's advocate and explain what I consider to be the best argument for killing Paarthurnax: the hegemon metaphor.

What We Know

To begin with, a basic overview of the Paarthurnax Dilemma as it is presented in the game.

Following either the completion of Alduin's Bane (learning Dragonrend and defeating Alduin atop the Throat of the World) or Season Unending (settling the peace talks to capture Odahviing), the player is invited to speak with Delphine and Esbern, who will explain to you that they have discovered what the player already knows: Paarthurnax is a dragon, and not only that, he is the former right hand of Alduin himself, responsible for countless (albeit unspecified) atrocities in the past, and for this he must be punished with execution.

This is where the biggest problem with the quest arises, because frankly, this is a horrible argument. For one, the game's failure to present actual evidence of said crimes, or any specifications thereof, immediately sets the player against this perspective. Secondly, a very common (and perfectly reasonable) argument is that, whatever Paarthurnax has done in the past, he did help the Dragonborn save the world at present, and that if his four-to-five thousand years of isolation prior are not repentance enough, then at least his actions now should count for something.

Paarthurnax's own dialogue exacerbates the issue. He readily admits that it is wise not to trust him, yet also claims that he knows he has overcome his nature and therefore knows can be trusted. His dialogue presents a level of understanding that the Blades unfortunately do not possess in their writing - an entire separate post could be written about how they, and Delphine in particular, are done dirty by the narrative which consistently portrays them in an antagonistic light for simply staying consistent in their beliefs and acting on the information they would reasonably have as in-universe individuals.

In other words, from the get-go the decision-making is stacked against the Blades because:

They are not given a solid argument for why Paarthurnax deserves to be killed now, citing ambiguous wrongdoings long in the past that are not substantiated or acknowledged anywhere else in the game, instead of providing any number of reasons for why he may deserve punishment at present.

They are not written with the same level of nuance in their responses as Paarthurnax, who acknowledges the validity of their perspective while defending his own, while the Blades simply declare either their way or the highway.

They lack the same charisma in their writing in prior quests, setting up the player to have a negative disposition towards the Blades (and Delphine in particular) as bossy, arrogant, and disrespectful, further influencing the final judgment in Paarthurnax's favor.

And I think this is a shame, because one can rather easily make a much better case if we simply look at...

Paarthurnax's Character: Past and Present

Let's begin with a retrospective of Paarthurnax's actions. At the earliest, Paarthurnax was the right hand of Alduin - his name, "Paarthurnax" (lit. Ambition-Overlord-Cruelty) offers us insight into the kind of dragon he used to be, and the fact that Odahviing refers to him as "Wuth Gein" (lit. The Old One) suggests he was considered old even among other dragons who did not perish in the span after Alduin's banishment.

Here I have to make a stop and acknowledge one crucial thing: Alduin was trying to eat the world. A very common mistake in the interpretation of Skyrim's plot is the idea that Alduin's attempts at ruling the world ran contrary to his destiny of devouring it. However, this is a misunderstanding: ever since Alduin's existence was established with TES III's Varieties of Faith, the writing remained consistent in that the Time God devouring or destroying the world was merely part of its lifespan. Just as the Time God encompasses all of existence, so does Alduin in devouring Nirn claim primacy over it, replacing his father as the new Time God Above All.

Several sources in-game and out directly corroborate that Alduin was, indeed, attempting to eat the world as was his due - not the least of which is Paarthurnax himself, who tells us that Alduin saw his destiny clearer than anyone and was acting in accordance with it, and then asks the Dragonborn to question whether it is worth it to stop Alduin if doing so would doom the next world never to happen. In other words, the entire plot of Skyrim begins to fall apart if we assume that Alduin was denying his calling, as "ruling the world" and "devouring the world" are contextually synonyms.

This brings us to Paarthurnax's betrayal. It is acknowledged by all parties that Paarthurnax had a crucial role in starting the Dragon War: whether it was by Kyne's divine instruction and his own compassion for mortals (High Hrothgar tablets), or out of self-preservation as Alduin was amassing power to usurp Akatosh's seat (the Blades), we know that Paarthurnax taught the Thu'um to the Nords. The ensuing war decimated the population of dragons and Paarthurnax himself went into hiding, remaining at the peak of the Throat of the World in total isolation, awaiting the return of Alduin as he knew his disappearance would not last.

The Blades' argument as it is presented in-game ends here - Paarthurnax's crimes under Alduin are the subject of their acumen, and they do not see his betrayal as adequate recompense for the suffering he has inflicted prior. Indeed, the argument is made that his betrayal was made for his own self-benefit, as he perhaps saw the gods' disapproval of Alduin's actions (the First Dragonborn was, of course, created at this time for a reason), and his "turning good" was in essence an elaborate PR stunt to evade the same persecution his kindred suffered, where in reality all it tells us is that Paarthurnax is not above betraying his own kith and kin if it means his continued survival.

Personally, I think that this is a cynical assessment on balance, but it is not without its grain of truth. Regardless, let us continue.

After the Dragon War, the Nords continued to freely exercise the Voice as a tool of war - though contrary to popular belief, this was not something unique to this time period. The Voice was already a staple of Nord armies prior to the Dragon War, with Ysgramor and some of his Companions being both noted users of Thu'um and implied to have had strong ties with the Dragon Cult, as all prominent kings and figures at the time would have. The only thing that changed with Paarthurnax's involvement is that people not sanctioned by the Dragon Cult gained access to Thu'um - prior to this, dragon language was considered sacred, and even merely speaking the it was illegal among the common populace, with the very words "dov-rha" (likely a typo of "dov-rah", lit. "dragon-god") and "drah-gkon" (now "dragon") being forbidden in common vernacular.

Regardless, the practice continued until circa 1E 416, when the Nords were driven out of Morrowind by the collective power of the Chimer and the Dwemer. This defeat was particularly striking to one general, Jurgen Windcaller, who suffered a crisis of faith and went on a seven-year-long meditation to ascertain how could the divine power of the Voice fail against their enemies, and surmised that the cause was not with the tool but with its users - the Nords were wrong to use Thu'um for war to begin with, and this defeat was their punishment.

As an aside, the reason I place the date of the Nords' defeat at 1E 416 and not 1E 668, during the much more famous Battle at Red Mountain that led to the Disappearance of the Dwemer, is because of the timeline of the First Empire of the Nords. PGE1: Morrowind states that it crumbled in 1E 416, after a joint effort by Chimer and Dwemer:

The Dark Elves appear in the written record in 1E416, during the War of Succession which destroyed the First Empire of the Nords: "And seeing that the Nords were divided, and weak, the Dunmer took counsel among themselves, and gathered together in their secret places, and plotted against the kinsmen of Borgas, and suddenly arose, and fell upon the Nords, and drove them from the land of Dunmereth with great slaughter." Thus ended the First Empire of men, at the hands of the Dark Elves.

And another section, PGE1: Skyrim, links the fall to the emergence of Jurgen Windcaller:

In the days of the Conquest of Morrowind and the founding of the First Empire, the great Nord war chiefs - Derek the Tall, Jorg Helmbolg, Hoag Merkiller - were all Tongues. When they attacked a city, they needed no siege engines; the Tongues would form up in a wedge in front of the gatehouse, and draw in breath. When the leader let it out in a thu'um, the doors were blown in, and the axemen rushed into the city. Such were the men that forged the First Empire. But, alas for the Nords, one of the mightiest of all the Tongues, Jurgen Windcaller (or The Calm, as he is better known today), became converted to a pacifist creed that denounced use of the Voice for martial exploits. His philosophy prevailed, largely due to his unshakable mastery of the Voice -- his victory was sealed in a legendary confrontation, where The Calm is said to have "swallowed the Shouts" of seventeen Tongues of the militant school for three days until his opponents all lay exhausted (and then became his disciples).

This is corroborated by the Five Songs of King Wulfharth, which claim that one of Wulfharth's known exploits in life was rebuilding the 418th step of High Hrothgar during his reign between 1E 480-1E 533. Seeing as how the second Battle at Red Mountain took place in the year of Sun's Death, 1E 668, this would suggest that High Hrothgar was built after the first battle instead, and Jurgen's defeat was in 1E 416, when the First Empire of the Nords fell apart.

Following this revelation, Jurgen would go on to debate the seventeen masters of the Voice and swallow their Shouts, proving himself their superior. With no one left to question his authority, he establishes the Way of the Voice as the leading school of the Voice and founds the monastery of High Hrothgar upon the slopes of the Throat of the World. Keep this in mind, as we will come back to this point later. Afterwards, the practice of the Voice is gradually phased out of common military use, and by Second Era it disappears completely from Nord culture outside of Greybeard circles.

In the meantime, Paarthurnax continues to await Alduin's return at the peak of Snow-Throat, and assumes the role of grandmaster of the Greybeards. In Jurgen's absence, he is the elder who trains the Greybeards once they cease to be apprentices, although he also admits that the Dragonborn is the first in centuries to have met with him for training, perhaps showing that the Greybeards' power is not what it used to be.

Nonetheless, his wait is finally rewarded after several millennia when, on the 17th of Last Seed, 4E 201, his elder brother finally emerges and the echoes of their ensuing battle are heard all the way down at the foot of the mountain, in the small village of Helgen, where by sheer coincidence one mortal would later realize themselves to be the prophesied Dragonborn. The rest is history: we look into the dragons' reappearance, answer the Greybeards' summons and meet with the Blades, and eventually ascend to the peak to meet with Paarthurnax himself, receiving his guidance to finally defeat Alduin for good.

But there's a little "but"...

What Happens Next?

Provided the player does not kill Paarthurnax before the end of the MQ, they get treated to an extended epilogue where Paarthurnax converses with them one more time, ruminating on the death of Alduin and what that means for the rest of the dragons. Upon exiting the dialogue, then, he offers what is perhaps the most interesting line about his motivations to date:

"Goraan! I feel younger than I have in many an age. Many of the dovahhe are now scattered across Keizaal. Without Alduin's lordship, they may yet bow to the vahzen... rightness of my Thu'um. But willing or no, they will hear it! Fare thee well, Dovahkiin!"

In no uncertain terms, Paarthurnax directly compares himself to Alduin as he says the dragons are left without a lord to guide them, and asserts that willing or not, they will now bow to the rightness ("vahzen", lit. "truth") of his Voice. And what's more, Odahviing's line afterward offers additional insight into this from a dragon's perspective, where he says:

"Pruzah wundunne wah Wuth Gein. I wish the old one luck in his... quest. But I doubt many will wish to exchange Alduin's lordship for the tyranny of Paarthurnax's "Way of the Voice". As for myself, you've proven your mastery twice over. Thuri, Dovahkiin. I gladly acknowledge the power of your Thu'um."

And so, twice over in the span of one conversation, Paarthurnax is not only compared to Alduin, but his imposition of authority is even directly called tyranny - a curious observation, given the meaning of Paarthurnax's name outlined before, and doubly so when we consider Paarthurnax's own words about his inner struggle with the urge all dragons have: to assert their authority and dominate over others, just as their father asserts his ultimate authority over the entire universe.

This, I believe, is the point where the question of killing Paarthurnax becomes most prudent, and where my proposal comes into play.

The Thu'um As Hegemony

First, we must take a step back and examine the significance of Thu'um as not just a weapon or a tool, but as a cultural symbol - specifically as symbol of authority and divine providence.

The motif of breath and language as sublime is not original to TES, which should not be a mystery to anyone. One need not look any further than the many creation myths where the world is created ex nihilo from a deity's breath, speech, or word. This is especially relevant in context of Abrahamic religions, namely Hellenic Judaism, Christianity, and derived religions where "Logos" (lit. "word, discourse, reason") was used synonymously with God ("In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God."), which TES similarly echoes in its themes:

[The Time God's] mind broke when "his perch from Eternity allowed the day" [...] that he begat by saying "I AM". - E8E

The secret Tower within the Tower is the shape of the only name of God, I. - Sermon 21

Compare and contrast to:

And God saith unto Moses, `I Am That Which I Am;' He saith also, `Thus dost thou say to the sons of Israel, I Am hath sent me unto you.' - Exodus 3:14, Young's Literal Translation

The Tetragrammaton is the four-letter Hebrew-language theonym יהוה‎ (transliterated as YHWH or YHVH), the name of God in the Hebrew Bible. [...] The name may be derived from a verb that means 'to be', 'to exist', 'to cause to become', or 'to come to pass'. [...] The Hebrew Bible explains it by the formula אֶהְיֶה אֲשֶׁר אֶהְיֶה‎ ('ehye 'ăšer 'ehye pronounced [ʔehˈje ʔaˈʃer ʔehˈje] transl. I Am that I Am), the name of God revealed to Moses in Exodus 3:14. - Wikipedia on "Tetragrammaton"

Similarly, the motif of language as the medium for creation is ubiquitous in TES. The Eternal I is the name of the Godhead, which is then echoed by the Time God who with his "I AM" grants measure to the entirety of the Aurbis, which allows all other spirits to individualize. The Altmer and Bosmer revere Jephre/Y'ffre for naming all things with language, allowing them to self-actualize and learn what they are. And of course, the Nords worship Kyne, who with her breath created them at the Throat of the World, where her Voice touched down to breathe life unto the earth. By parallel, the Dragonborn's ability to wield the Voice and assert their will through the Word is seen as proof of divine sanction, and even the Greybeards bow to this authority, believing it granted by Akatosh himself.

This gives a lot of added weight to the use of Thu'um by the Nords - in wielding it for conquest, they not only asserted themselves as the authority by military means, but also implicitly proclaimed that it is their god-given right to conquer, a sentiment which is explicitly put into words with the arrival of Talos:

"Soon the Greybeards made known that they were restless. Already the storms had begun from their murmurs. The Greybeards were going to Speak. The surrounding villages were abandoned as the people fled the coming blast. "The villagers warned Talos to turn back, for he was marching to the mountain where the Greybeards dwelt. "Inside he went, and on seeing him they removed their gags. When they spoke his name the World shook. "The Tongues of Skyrim told the son of Atmora that he had come to rule Tamriel and that he must travel south to do so. - PGE1

This is a curious point: the Greybeards do not merely teach Talos the Thu'um, but in so doing they also sanction his global conquest, claiming it to be his divine destiny to assert his rule. Similarly, Paarthurnax teaching the mortals Thu'um is seen not merely as an act of kindness - it is the gods themselves, namely Kyne, sanctioning their rebellion as righteous. In other words, might and right are seen as synonymous, as he who is righteous will wield the might to assert his truth.

Does this sound familiar yet?

Let us once again return to Jurgen Windcaller. With the defeat of the Nords, Jurgen retreats to meditate for seven years before returning to the world and shouting down the seventeen disputants, asserting through might the rightness of his Thu'um. But what were the practical effects of this?

Within centuries, if not decades, the practice of the Thu'um falls out of the public eye, unless sanctioned by the Greybeards. By the time of Skyrim, none practice the Thu'um any longer, save for the undead draugr, who at the time were themselves sanctioned by Alduin and the dragons to wield the Voice in the name of the Dragon Cult. In effect, Jurgen's actions have caused a domino effect where, in modern day, the Greybeards possess a total monopoly over the Voice. The only ones who are permitted to learn it under their doctrine are either future Greybeards-to-be (such as Ulfric), or the Dragonborn (whose authority outranks their own).

This poses a problem.

The Tyranny of the Way of the Voice

Let's call a spade a spade - the Greybeards are a Dragon Cult. By definition, they are an order of mortals that practice the Voice under tutelage of a dragon, to whom they defer as the ultimate authority and intermediary between them and their god (Kyne, as opposed to Alduin). Immediately, this raises several issues, not the least of which is the problem of Dragonrend.

Arngeir's dialogue is quite explicit on the matter: Dragonrend does not belong in the Way of the Voice. To reiterate, the Shout created specifically to serve as an equalizer between mortals and dragons is considered to be corrupt, evil, and has no place in the doctrine of the Greybeards - more than that, were it not for the Blades and Alduin's Wall, the Dragonborn would've likely never learned of it to begin with. If the wrong dialogue choices are picked, Arngeir can even refuse to let the Dragonborn see Paarthurnax and another Greybeard must step in to shout some sense into him, and even then he only reluctantly bows to the necessity of this decision:

So be it. If [Paarthurnax] believes it is necessary for you to learn this... we will bow to his wisdom.

At a glance, this may seem like a good thing - the Greybeards are willing to make an exception for the Dragonborn, recognizing the necessity of you learning Dragonrend to defeat Alduin. In reality, this is a massive red flag, because simultaneously we learn two very important things:

The Greybeards do not know Dragonrend, and indeed consider the knowledge of it not only forbidden but outright evil

The only one who knows how to learn Dragonrend is Paarthurnax, and only by his judgment is this knowledge passed out

To reiterate once again, as of 4E 201, Paarthurnax and his dragon cult are the sole authority in possession of the Thu'um, originally granted to the Nords with the explicit purpose of evening the playing field between them and the totalitarian dragons, and now completely withheld from anyone and everyone who does not align with their ideology, with the sole exception of the Dragonborn. What's more - after Alduin is defeated, Paarthurnax openly proclaims his intent to subjugate other dragons under his authority, installing his ideology as prime over all others, and himself as the sole authority passing out divine sanction.

This is a hegemony.

Selfish Altruism: A Cynical Analysis

By now, I think it has become relatively obvious already how the circumstances at hand are to direct benefit to Paarthurnax, so I would like to offer a quick recap with a pessimistic coloring, assuming selfish motivation from him at every turn.

For starters, let us consider Paarthurnax's betrayal. While Paarthurnax is stated over and over to be considered an elder and an authority among his fellow dragons, something worth noting is that he was not trusted. The proof needed for this lies in The Fallen quest, immediately after you obtain Dragonrend and defeat Alduin at the Throat of the World, forcing him to flee.

This information is key - Paarthurnax does not know where Alduin has fled. He is aware that he returned to Sovngarde, but not by what means. Instead, he directs you to subdue Odahviing, whom he calls "one of his allies" that Paarthurnax "remembers well" and believes will be able to tell you. And true enough, once Odahviing is subdued, he admits that he knows the location of the Sovngarde portal, which he calls "a privilege [Alduin] jealously guards" from his fellow dragons.

Paarthurnax included.

This paints Delphine's line about Paarthurnax's betrayal of Alduin being motivated by self-preservation in a very different light. As the Nords know in their myths, Alduin devouring the world is always preceded by him feeding on souls (Esbern's dialogue). In the process, he is said to grow to an immense size, allowing him to finally swallow the world in whole (as per MK, later canonized in The Wandering Spirits). This reframes the rising tyranny of the Dragon Cult in its later years in a very different light, where their expansionist conquests and increasing thirst for sacrifices may have had a deeper motivation than a mere power grab - by converting and killing people in the name of the dragons, and the Nordic gods in general, the dragon cult ensured a steady flow of souls from Nirn to Sovngarde, allowing Alduin the surplus of souls he requires to bring about the next kalpa, in direct parallel to how he exploits the Civil War to do the same.

Thus, we can assume Paarthurnax saw the writing on the proverbial wall: the world was going to end. More than that, he knew that he was not trusted with the information of how Alduin would go about this. We know from many sources, not the least of which is the Monomyth, that the turn of the kalpa leads to a violent period of cosmic amnesia, where great amounts of spirits perish and devour one another in primordial chaos, and only a small handful who know how to escape to Aetherius beforehand are able to survive this in whole. Best case scenario, Paarthurnax would be among the many who would die for Alduin's ascension.

Worst case scenario, Paarthurnax survives, and the one whose very name dictates him to be an Amibitous Overlord will be doomed to forever be second to his elder brother, the Dragon King of Time.

But then, fate smiles upon him - the gods do not want to die either! Whether it is Aka-Tusk or Aka-Tosh or even Shor that sends him, the First Dragonborn appears on earth and spells Alduin's doom. More than that - Kyne herself reaches down and instructs Paarthurnax to assist the mortals, and now his survival is all but assured, so long as he spills the secrets of the dragons to the mortals. And so he does. They invent new and terrible words to bind his kin and kill them, and he helps.

But it is not enough. The First Dragonborn has denied his destiny, and the Tongues are forced to banish Alduin into the future. In the coming years, more and more dragons are put to the sword, but Paarthurnax is spared - his help against Alduin has not been forgotten, and his vigil atop the Throat of the World earns him protection for many centuries to come.

And then, Jurgen Windcaller appears.

I believe it is very interesting that, for all we know of the Way of the Voice, its origins are nonetheless shrouded in no small amount of ambiguity. While it is commonly attributed to Jurgen, is it not curious that Paarthurnax never once mentions him, or having learned the Way of the Voice from him? Or that Jurgen's meditation, after which he built a monastery at the Throat of the World, gave him such an immense increase in power that with his silence he was able to overcome seventeen other masters by himself?

Isn't it interesting how Jurgen's extermination of the Voice as a military tool directly leads to Paarthurnax gaining total monopoly over the Voice in modern day?

I will throw the first stone and admit that this is a conspiracy, but I believe it to be a compelling one. We know for a fact that Paarthurnax and Jurgen had to have met - the question is only when. If it was after Jurgen settled High Hrothgar, then the idea of Paarthurnax being converted to the Way of the Voice by Jurgen after holding a different philosophy for three thousand +- infinity years sounds somewhat implausible, especially when his conclusion would be exactly opposite of Jurgen's - Paarthurnax saw first-hand that the gods have sanctioned Thu'um for war and violence, and that it does good work when wielded by capable warriors.

Meanwhile, if we assume that Jurgen met with Paarthurnax before founding High Hrothgar, such as, for example, during a seven year long meditation, a new narrative emerges: one where Paarthurnax, the true founder of the Greybeards, offers his wisdom to Jurgen Windcaller and gives him the existential answers he seeks, effectively converting him into the first of his own, new generation of dragon priests.

Whether or not Jurgen was knowingly acting in Paarthurnax's interests when he destroyed all other schools of Thu'um is unknown, and frankly irrelevant. I would even go as far as to say that Paarthurnax himself may not have been consciously doing this. What matters is not the intent but the result - after the Greybeards have come to power, Paarthurnax has ended up in a position of absolute authority on matters of the Voice.

Kill The Buddha

The phrase “If you meet the Buddha on the road, kill him” is an old koan - a teaching in Chan Buddhism meant to provoke thought and guide oneself towards enlightenment. In this case, the statement is not a direction towards actual murder (obviously), but rather an instruction to see the Buddha, the enlightenment, within oneself rather than somewhere else.

If you believe the solution to your problems to exist elsewhere, you have already cut yourself off from further growth. If you meet someone who claims to have solved the world, then know he is a liar. If you meet the Buddha on the road, kill him.

In this final section, I would like to offer my analysis of Paarthurnax's character, and specifically to address his claims of having overcome his nature through asceticism and meditation on the Way of the Voice.

To put it bluntly, I believe he is wrong.

As per Paarthurnax, and later Nahfahlaar in ESO, we are informed that dragons all have an innate urge to dominate. This is something they owe to Akatosh - as the Dragon God of Time, he exists as the ultimate authority over all the Aurbis, dictating the pattern of existence for all spirits, and so having been born in his image they cannot help but imitate this. Some, like Nahfahlaar and Odahviing, are content with recognizing an authority above themselves - they assert their superiority over lesser creatures, such as mortals or dragons weaker than themselves. Others, like Alduin and Kaalgrontiid, aim their ambition upwards, seeking to usurp the Time God and claim his authority for themselves. Even the Time God is not an exception to this - the Akatosh we know now was himself once an Alduin who had devoured his father, who is himself, and then involuntarily shed a firstborn of his own who now wishes to eat him in turn. This is the ouroboros at the center of the kalpic cycle.

Paarthurnax believes he has overcome this urge. Many would be inclined to agree, but as I hope this post has already proven several times over, this is not exactly the case - while Paarthurnax does not appear to outright seek dominion over mortals today, he does display these tendencies towards his fellow dragons.

And this includes himself.

I do not believe Paarthurnax is lying when he says he has overcome his urge to dominate. Instead, I propose that he does not realize that he is not speaking the truth - because ultimately, what he has done is turned the urge inward. Paarthurnax exists in a perpetual and paradoxical struggle over himself, which is on one side represented by his urge to dominate, and on the other side by his desire to dominate his urge to dominate.

And he is slipping.

Before you, there were checks and balances in place keeping his ambition from growing out of hand. First, as Nahfahlaar says, the will of the Time King itself is the bane of all dragons - none may disobey it without consequence. Then, with the advent of Alduin, who is immortal and unkillable by any and all who exist on Nirn, Paarthurnax became the eternal second-in-command, rebelling only when his existence and that of the world at large was threatened.

For millennia, he waited. At this point, some question why he did not simply take over the dragons now if that was his goal all along. To this, I say:

The Dragon War was fresh in the Nords' memory. If his allies saw him entertaining the same ambitions as Alduin, their Thu'um would have likely spelled his death as well.

The knowledge of Dragonrend was still alive, for a time. No matter how powerful a dragon is, when stripped of their godhood and grounded, even Alduin himself fears death. Paarthurnax is no exception.

Paarthurnax knew Alduin would come back - and not just him. Some dragons, like Mirmulnir, even explicitly went into hiding, waiting for his return all those years so they could serve him again. Were Paarthurnax to seize the moment and set himself on top of the hierarchy, it would be pointless: no amount of dragons can defeat Alduin, and none of them can know Dragonrend. All it would do is lead to eventual betrayal when Alduin inevitably returned and reclaimed his lordship.

But now? Those risks do not exist.

Nobody remembers the Dragon War. All those who once knew Paarthurnax is not to be trusted are long dead, and only the Blades remain as the sole source of skepticism, questioning whether he is trustworthy.

Nobody knows the Thu'um. The only people who still practice it are the Greybeards, his own loyal followers, and their doctrine forbids them from using it for violence outside of times of absolute necessity. Given the events of Skyrim, global war is not necessity, nor is the return of the dragons. Even the threat of the World-Eater leaves some of them at pause, where Arngeir will even question out loud if the world isn't meant to end and the Dragonborn shouldn't fight Alduin at all.

Nobody knows Dragonrend. The knowledge died with its inventors. The Greybeards know of its existence only as a cautionary tale, believing it to be inherently evil and corrupting to the soul, and none of them know its words. The only one who knows how to obtain it in this day and age is Paarthurnax himself - and the only place where it can be learned is the peak of Snow-Throat, which is his own lair.

Before, Paarthurnax lived under a constant threat of mutually assured destruction, but now? There isn’t anyone left who could possibly threaten him. There is no external motivation not to go back to his old ways, and by his own admission the struggle never goes away.

There are no checks and balances remaining. Only you.

Conclusion

The Paarthurnax dilemma is not a question of whether or not Paarthurnax deserves to be punished for his past crimes - it is a question of whether or not someone who has power has an obligation to exercise it.

As it currently stands, the Last Dragonborn is the only individual in existence who poses a credible threat to Paarthurnax, possessing the knowledge of Thu'um at large and of Dragonrend specifically. Unfortunately, both of these were learned at an instinctual level, and it is unlikely (if not impossible) that the Dragonborn would be able to teach those skills to someone who is not themselves Dragonborn (as Tiber Septim famously tried and failed to do, see PGE1 Skyrim section on the College of the Voice).

To borrow a real-life metaphor, Paarthurnax exists as a nuclear superpower. For however long the dragons have existed, he has lived comfortably within the bounds of mutually assured destruction. Then, his existence was threatened in the past, and as he saw the tides turning, he spilled the secret to others in order to defeat the one who threatened them all. In the thousands of years that followed, an order of his followers has systematically exterminated anyone who used these nuclear weapons for violence, gradually consolidating this power solely in his hands. And now, with Alduin out of the way, Paarthurnax openly declares his intent to subjugate all other nuclear powers in the world under his authority, because he knows that he can be trusted with it, and nobody else. Only him and his allies.

And if you're not his ally? Well, what's it matter to him?

At the end of the day, you are mortal. You are a hero. Once your job is done, whether it is age or choice or some freak accident of fate, you will leave the picture, and he will remain.

He has waited for several thousand years to end up in the position that he is now.

He can wait a couple more.

[mareenavee]

Luzrah gro Shar

Art for The Elder Scrolls: Legends

Artist Unknown

[mareenavee]

scrib 👍

[mareenavee]

absolutely love abusing the power that comes with 3rd person limited pov and just ignoring things and being vague sometimes. does the character know all the details? no? then I don't have to either.

[mareenavee]

Vvardenfell has no chill

[mareenavee]

Hi! I’ve been binge reading The World On Our Shoulders all week , just finished chapter19

This story is tearing be to bits and i adore every minute of it.

🥹❤️ This is everything a fic writer needs to hear, tbh.

[mareenavee]

The World on Our Shoulders: Chapter 43 - Little Other Choice

https://archiveofourown.org/works/44705740/chapters/169990702

Chapter 43: Little Other Choice

Summary:

In which Nyenna still refuses to understand how her actions affect those who love her.

10th of First Seed 4E 202

Nyenna hadn’t exactly been sure what to expect here in Riften, the Thieves’ Guild open to her as if she had always been meant to end up here. Certainly, she didn’t think she’d be face to face with the very person her family had tried to match her with.

“I — ” she started, then cleared her throat. “ — I had no idea you’d come all this way after what happened in Valenwood.”

She tried to keep her voice even, but it was on the verge of breaking. She’d worked so hard to leave that part of her past behind. Odd how she’d mentioned Niruin in passing to Teldryn, only for the man to show up here hours later. Maybe one never did escape the ghosts of their pasts.

“It’s so good to see you,” Niruin said. He lurched forward as if he, too, was disbelieving a mirage — or couldn’t otherwise trust his own eyes. His voice hitched with emotion in a way he’d only ever allowed to happen with her when they were younger. Otherwise, he had to put on a strong face — as did she.

That said, his eyes sparked with joy. He didn’t look stressed. There wasn’t a trace of exhaustion. He didn’t curl in on himself as she was prone to do. There was a confidence that wasn’t manufactured — this was something natural to him now.

Gods, and his hair. The coppery curls were gorgeous. No wax to weigh them down and tame them as was the expected for noblemen back in Haven. It was sort of symbolic, wasn’t it? Even though he’d been forced to leave, he’d found some kind of freedom. He looked so different from the way he existed in her memories — but this version felt right, somehow.

She let the barest hint of a smile cross her face, but it faltered. Too much of her own anxiety crept up her throat and the joy felt wrong as it escaped her heart.

She didn’t know him anymore, really. And he had no idea of the hell she’d been through. They had been damaged as children, but had they ever recovered from all of that? Was it right to ask?

“It’s good to see you, too,” she whispered. Something was cracking inside her as tears welled up in the corners of her eyes. She’d thought she’d been done crying. She didn’t think this phantom from lifetimes ago would prompt such a reaction.

“Oh!” Niruin said. “Please — I didn’t mean to upset you, Nyenna.”

There was a strangeness in the way the other thieves shifted uncomfortably, glancing sidelong at him. Nyenna had noticed.

She dragged in a difficult breath and scrubbed away the errant tears.

“No, it’s not you,” she said, voice coming through unsteady. Athis gripped her hand tighter, grounding her. “I am…I… No, it’s just tough to put to words.” She swallowed hard. “It feels like I’ve lived a thousand lives since Haven.” -> Read the rest on AO3!

[mareenavee]

It Does Not Do To Dwell on That Which Can No Longer Be Overwritten

https://archiveofourown.org/works/64371652

A prompt from Jinumon, which has taken me months, because it is so weird. (: Thank you, as always, for the shenanigans.

The Prompt: First person, weirdly omniscient as if the PC is still playing the game all these years, and the Nerevarine (Teldryn Sero) is their character.

Solstheim isn’t the place I’d have willingly chosen to stick around for all this time, but it is run down enough for my purposes. I can lay low—though as the years drag on, I am more inclined to move my feet than I used to. Not that I couldn’t just leave— glitch out of the world and into some dark spaces between this realm and the next, unknown to most. Wouldn’t that be neat? It has happened before. Part of me wants to, to be sure, but by my path and schedule I am bound for now. That was the agreement, if I wanted to stay—and stay I did. There’s an itch, however, that I can’t explain—a weird nostalgia for places I’d visited long ago or events that have become scant footnotes of history in the lives of people around me these days. Such is the way of things, I suppose, waiting between one entry in the series and the next—and the next and the next. I doubt if that itch will ever leave me.

The town declines as shipments become affected by the Civil War. Patrons—only the townsfolk now—complain of the weather or similar pains after working the ebony mines or their merchant stalls. Tourists are few and far between, and have been for time out of mind. Here in the dusty foyer of the Retching Netch, the paper lanterns burn dim in the ashen darkness. As they sway in the wind of customers entering and exiting this…fine establishment…reflected light skids across polished and lacquered tabletops. I hear the sound of the innkeep pouring sujamma after sujamma, clay vessels clinking together in unseen faux-revelry I am not a part of. Whenever the door opens, chill air and the echo of a forlorn silt strider creep in. Each day is the same, and each day I sit with my back against the wall, face turned toward the front door. -> Read the rest on Ao3!

[mareenavee]

@saltymaplesyrup, @archangelsunited (again), @thequeenofthewinter

Uh oh! You just got slaughterfished! Tag a friend to slaughter them!

[mareenavee]

The World on Our Shoulders, Chapter 42: That Which Is Already Lost

https://archiveofourown.org/works/44705740/chapters/163301524

10th of First Seed 4E 202

There had been a point where Athis thought for sure that nothing Nyenna could do would be enough for him to hold a grudge. Even as he stared up the hill at her, knowing full well she’d lagged behind to talk to that damned mercenary, he still felt a twinge of regret for all the anger he’d been holding on to. Still, when she waved to him, he didn’t return the gesture. He just grit his teeth and dove back into his grim thoughts.

He’d heard her back in camp a few days ago — he’d heard loud and clear her admission that she didn’t know how to love. What, pray tell, was it that they had, in that case? After their fight over that, he’d acted as if all was well, had even embraced her and offered soothing words, but most of that was to placate her. Had that been wrong?

At the end of the day, he wasn’t going to renege on the promises he’d made to her. Love wasn’t always convenient, he was finding. The both of them had a lot of room to grow, and the optimistic part of his mind still held on to hope — right there, next to all that anger.

He could try and sympathize with how overwhelmed she must be feeling. She had been correct in all their disagreements, however — he could never truly know the weight of the world like she did these days. Anyone would buckle under so much pressure. That she was still standing was a miracle, if you asked anyone else. But he knew how strong she could be. Athis had seen it first hand. And he wanted to preserve that — keep her hand in his. All he’d ever wanted to do was keep her by his side. He could support her with what skills he did have — and he’d been honing those for plenty of time. He could hold his own in a fight.

But the fear… The fear was something she couldn’t so easily let go of. It was insidious, and seeped into every thought. Worry consumed her at every branching path of her quest. He could sympathize with fear. Nyenna had trusted him with the worst of hers, and often still did, even when she talked in circles like she had during their argument. In the past, before even that, she’d cried in his arms enough times now when the grief of losing her brother hit like a tidal wave out of nowhere. She’d become convinced that whoever followed her into battle — or into whatever other chaos she was getting herself into these days — would never come back out again. That didn’t have to be the case. He’d repeated this to her and to himself a thousand times.

Athis let out a long, frustrated sigh through his nose and folded the map he’d been glancing at without absorbing any of the information. He knew that Riften was just up ahead. They’d be rejoining the main path soon enough. Thankfully, his earlier scouting revealed no Thalmor to be seen. Though he’d forgotten all the specifics, it was known that Riften had sided early on with the Stormcloaks, anyway.

He watched as Nyenna descended the hill and Sero managed to catch up with her. She threw the mercenary a worried look and then hurried down the path. Athis tucked away his map and crossed his arms over his chest, opting to bite back any scorn before he spoke. -> Read the rest on AO3!

[mareenavee]

The World on Our Shoulders | Chapter 41: The Choices We Made

5th of First Seed 4E 202

Nyenna’s heart seized in her chest as she watched Athis glare at her and leave their tent, heedless of the wind and weather. His skin was bare to the elements below his cloak, having forgone his armor in his haste, but it seemed his anger was such that he barely felt it. It was as if nothing — not even illness or worse — could quell the fire. And that, she realized, was her fault entirely. Without much hesitation, she exited their tent as well, jogging to keep up with him, her own cloak billowing out behind her.

Her thoughts were racing as if she’d encountered some grand danger, not just the anger and hurt of her husband. The words he’d shouted seemed to glance right off her like water from the backs of ducks. Her mind couldn’t hold them and she wasn’t sure if that was due to how heavy the conversation was or her own confusion.

“Athis, please!” she said, voice carrying over the settled snow and ice that spread itself thin over the side of the mountain. She’d kept her power from the words, and did not let them shake the earth beneath her feet.

He’d made it pretty far before he started shivering. He wheeled on her and trudged back a few paced, face twisted in a scowl.

“I asked you why and you had no good answer for me,” Athis said, voice low and dangerous. “No. You — you refused to answer.”

“It’s not — Athis, I didn’t refuse to answer, you just didn’t like what you were hearing!”

He crossed his arms over his chest, but Nyenna didn’t miss the way his arms were shaking, or how his fists were clenched tight enough to leave marks in his palms.

It was a moment again before he spoke, and when he did, his voice was low with a rage burning in the background. “Why would you forgive him? Forgive that? Why would you allow yourself back into the same chaos you’d left behind?”

“I told you this already. We have to work together. We don’t have a choice.”

“We do have a choice, Nyenna! That’s what you’re not seeing.” He paused and let out a sigh. She watched as shivers began overtaking him. Her own budding rage prevented her from moving to his side to keep him warm as she normally would have. “You don’t need to treat him like some kind of friend — or more. His presence has a purpose, and when that is done, he can go. We can be rid of him and go about our lives as we intended.”

Nyenna ground her teeth and flexed her fingers. Something primal screamed in her head, or deeper still within her bones. Somehow, she managed to ignore it. Her own heart beat furiously in her chest, as if it was itself a dragon, wings beating to help it escape the confines of her ribs. And she was angry. She was, but she knew the reason: Athis was right. She hated to be called foolish in not so many words. He had a point. His pain was valid. But that didn’t mean he knew everything.

He couldn’t know everything. No matter how much she explained the situation, or the danger, he would never grasp it. Not in its entirety.

Good. This is not a life I would wish on anyone. -> Read the rest on AO3!

[mareenavee]

The World on Our Shoulders | Chapter 40: New Roots

Present Day

Riverwood was much as Teldryn remembered it — quaint in a way that soothed an itch in the back of his mind he’d carried for as long as he could remember. It was an echo of all he’d ever wished for as a child: a calm, grounded community set in their ways, where everyone had a place and a function. Neighbors here bustled by, kindness lacing their smiles. Everyone knew everyone else’s names. It wasn’t like that back in the Imperial City, or Blacklight — or even Vvardenfell, no matter where on that rock he’d traveled.

He let out a long exhale, breath fogging in the early morning air as the carriage trundled into the once-tiny insignificant speck of a village — now expanding off of the renewed success of Whiterun like offshoots of various shrubbery. Teldryn had been a city-dweller for a long while, then a mercenary out in the wilds of the world, finding peace under the stars when there was any to be had at all. That Nyenna had suggested settling down here evoked a feeling he didn’t yet have words for.

He smiled down at her — she’d dozed off after they’d all broken camp and helped secure the carriage driver’s supplies in the compartment beneath their feet. The carriage driver pulled the cart around into a larger section of space across from the mill.

“Riverwood!” he shouted, as if everyone didn’t already know. Still, Teldryn grinned. He pulled a few extra Septims out of his pocket and tipped the driver.

Nyenna had begun to stir at the noise, but hadn’t quite woken up. It seemed a dream had pulled her under, taking all of her focus as she slumbered. Teldryn almost didn’t want to wake her, but other passengers were already lining up to pay for passage anywhere else.

“Nyenna?” Teldryn asked. Her eyes snapped open, and not for the first time, he noticed the barest hint of a flash of green as she did so. It faded as quickly as it came. Something churned in the pit of his stomach, but now was not the time to dwell. He knew she suffered nightmares, and he could guess what wormed its way through her mind, always searching. He could question her, or he could fuss, but she wouldn’t be entirely aware of the machinations Mora was working in the background unless He wanted her to. Teldryn had been there before with other Gods over the years — and perhaps was, in a way, still there. He cleared his throat and offered his hand.

She groaned and shook her head, but laced her fingers through his regardless. “Wh-where are we?”

“Riverwood, merdekhes, ” Teldryn said with a chuckle. “You slept through most of the last half of the journey.”

“Oh!” Nyenna said, sitting upright as he pulled her toward him. “I meant to be better company.”

“You both needed your rest,” Teldryn said with a smirk and a nod in her general direction.

She grinned, and the light of it did indeed reach her eyes. -> Read the rest on Ao3!

[mareenavee]

To Oblivion and Back

Happy Birthmas, @crimsonsairina!!!!! :>

I wanted to write another character observing Brynjolf and not knowing exactly what to expect from him, and...well. We got a new OC. I hope you love her and this glimpse into this verison of Skyrim!

Thank you, also, to Jinumon for the prompt:

The Prompt:

Falmer Blood Elixir (1,500 word limit)

Without further ado...

To Oblivion and Back

Ilias-Tei didn’t want to be in Solitude—no, not even a little bit—but she did owe Brynjolf some allegiance, after all he’d done for her following the death of her twin. Her path was never, however, meant to be one of thievery and trickery. If Saxhleel were wont to smile in a manner that wasn’t altogether unsettling, she’d have laughed at her own folly—but now was not the time. There was work to be done, to be sure, though she felt oddly exposed in these rich city streets under such open, blue skies—not to mention how many guards crawled about, always watching. It was a far cry from the dark, sodden comforts of the Ratway and the canal leading out into lake Honrich.

She shifted the crate she’d been carrying, which had been unloaded outside the city gates with Brynjolf’s supervision.

“Ilias!” Brynjolf exclaimed, turning and throwing his arms wide—notably, he was not carrying a large, heavy crate—as he walked backwards. “Welcome to Solitude, and the biggest opportunity for, ah, profit you and I have ever had.”

“This idea was not yours,” Ilias-Tei muttered, each ‘s’ bringing forth a small snake-like hiss from her voice in her immense irritation. “Also, it’s Ilias-Tei, for the thousandth time.”

“What’s a new nickname between friends?” Brynjolf said, his odd Bruma brogue scraping at Ilias-Tei’s last nerve. It had been a very, very long journey from Riften.

“I’ll give you a nickname,” she quipped.

Brynjolf only responded with laughter, moving to take the crate from her claws. She sighed, glad for the chance to rotate her sore shoulders. She did so then, grass green scales glinting in the sun as her joints popped in a way that aged her a century or more. -> Read the rest on AO3!

[mareenavee]

The Heist

A birthday gift for @rhiannon1199!! And special thanks to @crimsonsairina for the isekai inspo, of course, and for Konrad. (:

Without further ado:

The Heist

Given exactly two minutes to come up with a decent retort, Teldryn Sero could lie his way into—or out of—just about any situation. That’s what he’d have liked to keep telling himself, anyway. Staring up at an ancient, half-crumbling, barely-living silt strider on the east side of Nowhere, Solstheim, he began to wonder exactly what he had agreed to be part of. Wonder, however, but not question. The pay was good, and it was better to ever so slightly lowball the other offers other mercenaries would have given the wayward Nord so that he could get a slice of the pie instead. It didn’t matter, really, what nonsense was on the horizon. Teldryn had been, up to this point, quite used to unorthodox employment—and just by the look on his employer’s face, this job, too, would be something to remember. Hopefully, barring any further incidents with overconsumption of sujamma.

Teldryn stood on the edge of a cliff that served as a home base of sorts to the creature’s keeper, pondering his life choices for the span of maybe a second or two. There had been no initial misgiving that he was conscious of, but occasionally pausing to adjust one’s moral compass never hurt, especially in this line of business. Upon inspection, his true north was still somewhat metallic—just as it had always been.

As if in direct response to that, a great deal of gold coins clinked merrily in his pockets as he finished tying a rather impressive series of knots. Revus Sarvani—that was the mer’s name—had somehow succumbed to a rather nasty bump on the head while he was going about his otherwise ordinary business. Teldryn had obliged to restrain the poor fellow and stash him away in the piece of fraying canvas that doubled as a sorry excuse of a tent.

The wayward Nord was currently busy stacking an absurd amount of stones of various shapes and sizes inside the unkempt cabin in the silt strider’s back. They weren’t all large, but the tedious work would have worn out the average person by now, or so Teldryn thought.

“And what, may I ask,” he began, wiping the dirt and ash off of his gloved palms onto his pants, “were you planning to do with a half-dead silt strider, sera?” -> Read the rest on AO3!

[mareenavee]

Until the Last

For @archangelsunited >:] This is an AU situation (part of my AU series, If Only Time Changed Its Mind) and not canon to my main series, Dragonborn and Far-Star Marked.

Without further ado,

Until the Last

Nyenna wandered under Sovngarde’s stars. The auroras were so bright, it almost didn’t feel like the endless night the legends spoke of. There was a fog in the distance—a path meant to be uncrossable. She could feel the screams of the dead—fighting and failing—deep in her chest as Alduin feasted on what remained of their souls. Her heart had broken so many times over that she knew the shape of that pain as intimately as she knew the scars which criss-crossed her skin.

She let the wind whip her silver hair out of her face. She frowned, gaze unable to pierce the veil which hid the way forward from her. She knew, however, that she had no choice but to move on. This was her destiny. Her strength had grown, and what awaited her had been written in the stars long ago in ages past. She closed her eyes and listened to the roar of her dragon soul. Her ribs felt strangely empty, as if the wing-beats were somehow outside of her. The echo of Magicka which connected her to Teldryn was absent, too, in this place. Her stomach roiled at its lack—or at the task which weighed her shoulders down.

Nyenna hadn’t wanted to leave. Odahviing had whisked her away from everything she had held dear, and she hadn’t been able to bring herself to look back over her shoulder as the Great Porch of Whiterun faded into the background. There was a huge part of her that felt, even now, that she would not return. Regret burned at her throat, the taste sour and sharp.

Teldryn had found a way to sneak into the city with the help of Irileth, Jenassa, and the City Guard. She did not want to be observed arriving, as it would have only made things much harder to bear. It was enough that the crimson dragon she had shouted for and trapped was so… visible. The Criers and Bards would be singing of his scales and the glint of her armor as the two of them faded into the sun for mortal ages.

But what mattered most was the weeping that was done the night before. -> Read the rest on AO3!

[mareenavee]

The World on Our Shoulders | Chapter 39: A Path So Far Strayed From

5th of First Seed 4E 202

Teldryn tossed and turned, finding himself unable to sleep. He’d drawn second watch and Nyenna had, some hours ago, woken on her own to take over for him. Her frown had been etched deep, and her eyes betrayed a tiredness that went beyond the interrupted nights out on the road. Something bone-deep — something he knew well, but didn’t have the words to describe. The weight of the world, perhaps, even felt like too small a descriptor.

There was so much he wanted to say to her, but part of him shied from her ability to stare straight through him, gaze piercing his heart. It was as if nothing he could say could make up for what he’d done — that no matter her words, and no matter what had gone on between them, there would be no true forgiveness. And perhaps that was for the best. Geldis had mentioned that there would always be others, not understanding exactly the kind of connection near-death and overwhelming destiny could forge. The more he tried to look elsewhere, however, the more he was drawn right back to her.

That, and the echo of their Magicka reaching out for one another wouldn’t be quieted without drastic measures. That was a problem for another day, however. It would have to be.

He rolled over onto his back and stared up at the peak in the canvas that served as a tent. The bitter wind cut through it like it was incorporeal, or made of Illusion magic, but he’d tucked fire salts into his cloak and had downed another potion of Resist Cold before he’d settled in after his watch. He had a few hours yet before the cold would sink into his skeleton, making his joints ache and reminding him that he’d, in fact, lived a few centuries too long.

No matter how he tried, no matter how comfortable he could make his bedroll, and no matter how warm he could pretend to be, sleep still would not take him. This, of course, was nothing new, and he suspected he’d deal with the insomnia for time out of mind. At least if he was fully awake, he wouldn’t have nightmares or strange dreams filled with the voices of Gods he’d be better off ignoring.

With a sigh, Teldryn sat up, joints popping in his shoulders. A quick glance through the flap of his tent let him see that Nyenna was still sitting by the campfire, swirling the dregs of her tea in the same clay mug that somehow always seemed to survive their travels intact. That there were small comforts like that gave him hope — though, truth be told, it would only carry him so far. The world was a rough place. It had always been, and each decade — or century — seemed to see the whole of Tamriel crumble further into ruin.

That he understood this and could do nothing to slow the decay was a constant source of dismay for him. But if the mug was any indication, not everything was made to break.

Not everything. -> Read the rest on AO3!

[mareenavee]

The World on Our Shoulders | Chapter 38: An All-Too-Brief Silence

1st of First Seed 4E 202

Athis was used to roughing it in the wilds of Skyrim. That’s just how it worked when you went out on assignment with the rest of the Companions. Sleeping under the stars had once been a singular joy — but this Sero character had siphoned off all of that. Athis had replaced what should have been calm with a simmering rage. The smug look on the man’s face was enough to make him want to break that crooked nose of his a second time. He more than deserved it after everything Nyenna had said about what had happened on Solstheim.

And to show up again under the guise of making an apology? What nerve he must have.

Athis had plenty of reasons to hate the man. Sero had tried — and thankfully failed — to turn Nyenna from him. There had been fractures enough, what with the dragon situation and destiny, and Sero had taken advantage of the momentary weakness.

That took a special kind of stupid.

Athis glanced over at Nyenna. He’d taken first watch, and she lay sleeping in their makeshift tent. Sero seemed to be awake, staring up at the stars from his bedroll, thin bit of canvas folded over itself to prop up his head. Athis hadn’t offered him help building a shelter, and, blessedly, the man hadn’t asked. All the swagger from Nyenna’s stories seemed to have melted out of him. He looked ashen and pale, like the gravity of his mistakes had finally caught up with him.

Good. Couldn’t happen to a nicer mercenary.

Athis grimaced to himself and sipped canis root tea — it had been foraged from Sero’s supplies donated to the mutual good of the cause. It reminded him starkly of New Balmora, and while he had a thousand reasons to hate this, too, he was grateful for the shred of nostalgia. It gave him something else to turn his focus to once in a while, rather than nurturing the simmering rage. He was trying to hold it together for Nyenna. She didn’t like dealing with more violence than was strictly necessary — and for whatever reason, she was being civil with this n’wah.

Perhaps that spoke to the kind of person she really was. Maybe she could sense the good in people, even if it was buried way way down. He eyed Sero.

Or create good where there hadn’t been before, and likely still isn’t. -> Read the rest on AO3!