#also erandur may be a priest of mara but i can see him appreciating what lady dibella's about too

[aesadraws]

Worked on one of my art wips today that's one of those This Is Just Porn outings except it's mostly tasteful and involves my dovahkiin and her husband Erandur bringing Tullius to bed. That is all.

[soulstealer1987]

Interlude: Erandur

Ziist Grozein

Erandur was planning on just sharing a drink with Aranea in the inn. Nothing against the College, of course, but the drinks there are horrible. Of course, in all honesty, when do things go according to plan?

Crossposted from AO3. Masterpost is here.

Arc 2, Chapter 8 ~ Arc 3, Chapter 1

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Aranea asks softly. She pulls her hood down a little as some of the local Nords pass, but Erandur meets one of their glares with one of his own, daring them to mess with him, or Aranea for that matter. “You know how they are.” Erandur would gladly demolish them so that there was nothing left to bury if they tried anything with Aranea.

Erandur mentally dares the Nord in question to say something, because he would honestly love an excuse to pull the ‘Priest of Mara’ card (as in: how dare you, I am an ordained priest of Mara, have you no shame?) but that Nord doesn’t rise to the bait. Surprising. Instead, he mutters something to his friends, and they hurry off. Probably something particularly insulting involving magic but, unlike the Nords of Winterhold, Onmund and Tolfdir not included, Erandur has standards. He won’t stoop to their level.

“You’re absolutely right,” Erandur agrees, “but Arch-Mage J’zargo swears up and down that the inn likes getting business from the College, and I’m inclined to believe him. You might want to steer clear of Nelacar, though.”

Aranea frowns, “Nelacar? I don’t-”

“Your elven mage who studies stars,” Erandur says, and Aranea makes a face. “He’s got a permanent room here, mainly because the College didn’t want him back after his association with a certain necromancer. He also may not like me, because I may have said something he didn’t like when Gallus and I were talking to him to begin with.”

“You? Said something he didn’t like?” Aranea grins mischievously, and Erandur’s heart skips a beat. “Now I have to know the details. Spill.”

“Fine, but let’s get inside first.”

They reach the door to the Frozen Hearth, and Erandur holds it open for Aranea. She ducks her head in thanks, smiles, and heads in first. Erandur takes the opportunity to look around.

No Nelacar in sight - good, probably in his room - and the bartender seems to recognize him. He takes one look at Erandur and Aranea, then breaks into a grin.

“Need a room?” The bartender asks cheerfully. “I’ve got one free at the moment, although if a certain visitor keeps coming back I might just ask her to do what Nelacar’s doing.” He nods at a table in the corner, where a hooded figure is sipping at a bottle of mead. Erandur can’t quite make out the label, not that he wants to, although the figure seems vaguely familiar.

“No thank you, not at the moment,” Aranea says in an equally cheerful tone, and Erandur feels his face heat up. “We’re staying at the College in any case.”

“True,” the bartender agrees, now quite solemn, “but a little birdie told me that the rooms there don’t have any doors.”

“They don’t,” Erandur sighs. “It’s… not fun. The Arch-Mage is attempting to make everyone use curtains to cover up the doorways with, but it’s slow-going and most people just set runes in the doorways when they don’t want to be disturbed anyway.”

“Well, if you two need a room…” The innkeeper waggles his eyebrows suggestively and, while Aranea somehow still has a straight face - how does she do that? - Erandur’s face feels like it’s on fire at this point. “Name’s Dagur, by the way. Always a pleasure to get visitors from the College, to Oblivion what the rest of town thinks. You’re always welcome here.”

“Thank you,” Aranea says genuinely. The two Dunmer order their drinks, then retreat to a table near the door. Normally, Erandur would go for one near the back, but the hooded figure looks like she(?) wants to be left alone, and who is Erandur to deny her that? Although… she certainly does look familiar.

As Dagur brings their drinks, Erandur glances over again, and happens to catch the hooded figure’s gaze. Red eyes meet… purple, much to Erandur’s surprise. She’s a Dunmer, like them, except she has purple eyes. Erandur thinks he would have remembered a girl with purple eyes, but-

Mara’s mercy.

Erandur’s eyes go wide as he remembers exactly where he’s seen her before. Erandur didn’t see her eyes then, her hood was pulled down too low and it was a bad angle, but… yes, she’s still got a bow strapped to her back along with a full quiver of arrows, she looks just as on edge as she did in Dawnstar despite Dagur’s much warmer hospitality…

“Who’s that?” Aranea asks, and Erandur forces himself not to blurt out I don’t know and be done with it. It’s the truth, sure, but… he thinks he might have an idea of who she is, and if he’s right…

“I’m… not sure,” Erandur says, quietly, “but I might have some idea. Aranea, can you do me a favor?”

“We’re dating,” Aranea deadpans, “but sure.”

“I don’t think she’ll talk to me if I’m not alone,” Erandur says in a low voice. He’s pretty sure the purple-eyed girl can’t hear them over here, but better safe than sorry. After all, she heard them in back in the Windpeak Inn - or at least, Erandur refuses to believe that was a coincidence. “Aranea, I wish you could be here for this, but I need you to meet me back at the College.”

“Erandur-”

“I swear on Mara and Azura both that I’ll tell you everything when I return,” Erandur whispers. Aranea frowns, but nods. She gets up and leaves, taking her own drink with her, and Erandur waits a bit before risking another glance in the purple-eyed girl’s direction. If she wasn’t paying attention to him before, she definitely is now, although he’s fairly certain that’s because Aranea abruptly left and not because she heard what they were talking about. Hopefully.

To Oblivion with it, Erandur thinks. He drains his bottle, gets up, and forces himself to make the short walk to the purple-eyed girl’s table.

“Hello, my daughter,” Erandur greets. Her head snaps up, and she looks him up and down suspiciously. “Do you mind if-?”

“I’m not your daughter,” she says quietly. She’s right, obviously, but she certainly would be the right age. If, of course, Erandur had a normal life, and hadn’t been brought into a cult worshipping Vaermina, of all the Daedric Lords he could have been brainwashed into worshipping, when he was still but a mere child.

“Of course not,” Erandur says. “My apologies. Old habits. I’m a priest of Mara, you see.”

He slips into the seat across from the purple-eyed girl, and while she still looks incredibly on edge and very, very suspicious, she doesn’t look quite as suspicious.

“Are you?” She asks, still quietly. Erandur wonders if she’s naturally that quiet, or if it’s something he’s doing. She certainly seems like a sweet girl, if… a little on the shifty side, and definitely suspicious of everything about him. “Really. What would a priest of Mara be doing in Winterhold?”

“I was assisting a good friend of mine with some problems of his,” Erandur says. “Not love-related. However, he plans to continue alone, to Whiterun I believe.”

The purple-eyed girl does an exceptionally good job of appearing uninterested, and Erandur would almost have been fooled if he hadn’t guessed correctly at what to look for. She hasn’t taken a sip of her mead since he sat down, and she’s gripping the bottle a little too tightly.

“That’s… nice.”

“Indeed. I believe he’s attempting to get better with the sword. An admirable goal, although I’ve always preferred the mace myself, as well as my magic.”

The purple-eyed girl studies him for a time, silently, before taking a sip of her mead. Her eyes don’t leave his, and after a moment, she says, “I know you want something from me, and I’m not here for small talk. What is it?”

“I’m a priest of Mara,” Erandur repeats, “and I know someone who’s pining over another when I see them.” In all honesty, he was guessing, but it’s clear he hit the nail on the head when the purple-eyed girl visibly stiffens.

In an even smaller, quieter voice, so quietly that Erandur can barely hear her, she asks, “How did you know?”

“I didn’t,” Erandur says, offering her a smile. “But I remembered you from Dawnstar. How long have you been following him for?”

She doesn’t have any reason to tell the truth, but when she says, “Two weeks,” Erandur gets the feeling that she isn’t lying.

“You knew him. Before he lost his memory.”

“Yes,” the purple-eyed girl sighs, and looks past Erandur. It’s the first time she’s taken her eyes off him since he sat down, which is… progress, he thinks.

“You loved him.”

“No,” she says, and Erandur nearly falls out of his chair. She hastily clarifies, “I love him. Present-tense. I never stopped. Sorry, that... came out wrong.”

“Then why don’t you talk to him?”

The purple-eyed girl laughs humorlessly, “And what would I say?” Her eyes glimmer with unshed tears. “I thought he was dead. He should be dead.”

“He’d be thrilled to know there was someone who actually knew him,” he offers, and she shakes her head.

“No, you don’t get it,” she says. “I watched him die, and I don’t know how he’s alive, but… if he learns of his past, the first thing he’ll do is go back there and get himself killed. I’m protecting him by keeping him in the dark.”

Erandur frowns, but nods, “That’s fair. But how long do you plan to do this?”

“As long as I need to.”

“It’s already tearing you apart,” he guesses, and judging by the way she tenses up, he’s guessed correctly, again. “You can’t do this forever.”

“I know. It’s just,” she takes a deep breath. “It’s just… he’s been dead for twenty-five years.”

If Erandur had been drinking something, he would have done a spit-take. As it is, he chokes on his own spit.

“What,” is the only thing at all coherent he can manage.

“You heard me right. Look, I… get that you’re trying to help,” she says, “and I appreciate that. I really do. But… please, please don’t tell him about me. He’s not ready.” She smiles sadly, then, almost as an afterthought, adds, “And if you can, keep him well away from Riften.”

“What’s in Riften?” Erandur asks, a little unnecessarily. Everyone knows what’s in Riften: the Thieves Guild, for one thing. And the Temple of Mara, but Erandur’s never made the pilgrimage. Mainly because he doesn’t trust the city itself.

Erandur figures it’s possible Gallus was involved with the Thieves Guild. That would explain a lot of things, like his knack for stealth. That would also bring up a whole lot of other questions, none of which Gallus can answer at the moment.

“His past,” she hesitates for a long moment, “and his murderer.”

At that, Erandur mutters something particularly un-priestly under his breath. The purple-eyed girl cracks a smile at it, quite possibly because of how un-priestly it was… Mara’s mercy. Well, regardless. He’s an ordained priest of Mara, even if he’s never actually served in a temple. Being a priest, any priest, entails a certain amount of trust. Erandur isn’t going to be the one to break that trust.

“I swear on Lady Mara that I will not tell him anything you told me,” Erandur vows, “unless it becomes something he needs to know.”

“That’s… probably the best I’m getting,” she mutters, then shrugs. “I suppose it’s nice to be able to talk to someone who doesn’t want me dead… and whatever you do, don’t tell him what I’m about to say: Karliah.”

Erandur raises an eyebrow, but nods, “Got it. And… what’s-?”

“My name,” she says. “It’s Karliah, and I would advise you not to mention it to anyone you wouldn’t trust with your life. The only reason I’m trusting you with it is because Gallus trusts you, and if you betray that trust…” She doesn’t have to finish the sentence. Her meaning’s perfectly clear.

“I will not,” he swears. “However, if you need to talk to someone, and you’re in the area… my name is Erandur, and I don’t intend on leaving the College anytime soon.”

“Thank you,” Karliah smiles gratefully. “You have no idea how much that means, but… thank you.”

Later that night, when Erandur finally finishes explaining everything to Aranea, he pulls her into a tight hug. He can’t imagine what it would be like to forget someone like her, nor what it would be like for her to be forgotten… but it wouldn’t have taken a priest of Mara to tell that Karliah was barely keeping things together on her end.

He prays, both to Lady Mara and Lady Azura, that things turn out well for them.

[soulstealer1987]

Arc 2, Chapter 2

Ziist Grozein

The duo continues on through Nightcaller Temple in their mission to destroy the Skull of Corruption and save Dawnstar, although neither of the two are exactly what the other thinks. Secrets are revealed, risks are taken, and both Gallus and Erandur still have a ways to go before their mission here is complete.

Crossposted from AO3. Masterpost is here.

Arc 2: A Dream of Despair

Arc 2, Chapter 1 ~ Arc 2, Chapter 3

“Now I can show you the source of the nightmares,” Erandur says quietly, sheathing his mace for now, heading over to a barred opening, and pointing down through it. “Over here.” Gallus heads over, and looks down. He can’t quite make out what’s down there, save a reddish force field surrounding… something.

“Is that the Skull of Corruption?” Gallus asks, squinting at it through the bars preventing them or anyone else from jumping straight down.

“Yes,” Erandur says in an even softer tone. A quick glance over at Erandur reveals to Gallus that there’s something deeply personal about this to him, or maybe Gallus is just reading too much into it. Maybe he imagined the guilt-ridden look on the priest’s face that was there for moments at most. “Behold, the source of Dawnstar’s woes. We must reach the inner sanctum and destroy it. Come, there’s no time to lose.”

As it happens, Erandur was right to be worried. Both cultists and invaders alike are awoken as he and Gallus proceed into Nightcaller Temple, and they attack friend and foe alike indiscriminately. Fortunately, the cultists aren’t all that good of fighters, but the orcs, on the other hand… they bring to mind the relentless savagery of the Falmer. Gallus really, really hopes he never has to go into another Dwemer ruin, although he’s not particularly optimistic about that one. He just hopes he has someone he trusts at his back for the next one.

Speaking of someone he trusts… Gallus isn’t quite certain that Erandur can, in fact, be trusted. Certainly, he’s a priest, but priests are generally pacifists. Priests don’t generally go charging in with a flame spell in one hand and a well-worn mace in the other. Erandur, on the other hand, does. There’s also the fact that he knew how to open the barrier to the Temple, although Gallus supposes that he could have learned that in preparation for his task here.

Regardless of this, Gallus doesn’t voice his concerns. Instead, he tries to let Erandur take the lead through the strange, purple mist in the air (probably the Miasma, actually) as much as possible, and tries to keep an eye on where he is at all times. In all honesty, he isn’t sure why his instincts are leading him to be this wary - after all, this is just a priest. But they are, and he is, and he hopes he won’t come to regret being too overly cautious about this, about Erandur.

He wonders, momentarily, as they come to a strange sort of barrier, if maybe he’d been betrayed before. Maybe there was a reason he was reacting this way… but Gallus certainly doesn’t know what it is, and the thought slips his mind as he hears Erandur swear in a most un-priestly fashion.

“The priests must have activated this barrier when the Miasma was released,” Erandur explains. “It’s… difficult to breach. Impossible, actually.”

“Really?” Gallus asks. “You mean we came in here for nothing?” Erandur frowns, and after a moment, shakes his head.

“There may be a way to bypass the barrier, but I must check o-” Erandur coughs hurriedly. “The library. I must check the library to confirm it can be done.” Gallus caught him that time, and Erandur knows it, too. The scholar and the priest regard each other cautiously for a long moment, before Gallus clears his throat awkwardly.

“You… weren’t about to say our library, were you?” Gallus asks innocently, not taking his eyes off Erandur, not sheathing his sword, and silently preparing a Calm spell behind his back for if worst came to worst and the priest attacked him. “Because you do seem to know an awful lot about this place, even for someone who’s been tasked by their goddess to destroy it.”

Erandur lowers his gaze, staring intently at the cracked floor of the hall they’re in.

“I was not tasked by Lady Mara to destroy this place,” Erandur whispers, so softly that Gallus can barely make out his words. He looks up, and looks past him. “I took on this task myself, as a way to atone for what I’ve done in the past.” He still doesn’t meet Gallus’ gaze, and it suddenly clicks for him.

“You don’t mean to say-”

“I do,” Erandur says, shoulders sagging. His voice cracks. “I suppose there’s no point in concealing the truth any longer. My knowledge of this temple comes from personal experience. I… was a priest of Vaermina, long ago.”

Gallus bites back a sarcastic remark, because now really isn’t the time unless he really does want to need that Calm spell. Sarcasm, unfortunately, is not the solution to everything. Instead, he says, quietly, “Why keep it a secret?”

Erandur laughs humorlessly. “When the orcs invaded the temple, I fled,” Erandur explains, and Gallus doesn’t think he’s imagining the sorrow in his eyes. “I left my brothers and sisters here to die. I’ve spent the last few decades living in regret and seeking redemption from Mara. And by Her Benevolence, I will right my wrongs.” His expression is full of resolve, and Gallus can see his determination. He can respect that.

“Sounds good to me,” Gallus says. “Anything else I should know, or… well… would now be a good time to mention that I’m an amnesiac?” If Erandur’s shocked expression is any indication… no. Not at all.

“You do a good job of pretending otherwise,” Erandur says solemnly. “I take it that’s why you’re so interested in what’s going on here?” Gallus nods.

“Yes,” says Gallus. “You wouldn’t happen to have any idea on how I can get my memories back, would you?”

“If Vaermina took them, you wouldn’t be getting them back,” says Erandur after a long pause. “However, as I said earlier, you would not be walking around if Vaermina had taken that many from you. I’m afraid I can’t think of anything off the top of my head, but once we’re done with the Skull, I can help you look into it.”

Gallus nods, and says, ‘Thank you.” There’s another long pause, interrupted only by whatever is going on within the barrier with the soul gem powering it, but this time, it’s less uncomfortable, somewhat.

“To the library, then,” Erandur says. “I still have my key, from...” He lapses into silence, clearly less than comfortable with the subject. Gallus nods, and lets Erandur lead the way, this time because he actually knows where he’s going. He still doesn’t quite trust Erandur, not completely… but he’s at least not expecting the priest to stab him in the back, or take a mace to his skull. That’s progress, he supposes.

“Be careful,” Erandur warns as he turns the key in the lock. “We’re certain to find more of the awakened within.”

“I could… try to keep them from attacking us?” Gallus offers. With his free hand, he readies a Calm spell, then looks to Erandur. Erandur sighs, and shakes his head.

“The gesture is appreciated, but… I fear they will be too far gone even for that,” Erandur says sadly, pushing the door open with one hand and readying his mace with another. Gallus lets the Calm spell dissipate, and then summons a different kind of Illusion spell to his free hand.

“Courage spell it is,” Gallus mutters as Erandur charges in. “Not that you need it.” He manages to catch Erandur square in the back with the blue-ish spell, and the priest charges in.

“Feel the Benevolence of Mara!” Erandur shouts as he runs for a group of cultists and orcs alike. He proceeds to bash the face in of one, and Gallus doesn’t actually have to do anything. He just stands back and watches as Erandur takes down four enemies, two of which are trained warriors, in a matter of seconds. Granted, they were just waking up, but still…

It’s mildly terrifying. Gallus sincerely hopes not all priests in Skyrim are like this, but then again, this is Skyrim.

“Barring any more interruptions, perhaps we can locate the information I need,” Erandur says, sheathing his mace. Gallus nods. They both make a point of not looking at the new corpses adorning the library’s floor, two orcs and two cultists, a Breton and another Dunmer.

“What am I looking for, exactly?” Gallus asks.

“We’re looking for a book of alchemical recipes called The Dreamstride. The tome bears the likeness of Vaermina on the cover.” Erandur frowns, surveying the destruction of the library. “It… should be here somewhere, assuming it’s still intact.”

“If it’s not… how big of a problem will we have?”

Erandur winces. “Big,” he says and looks around wistfully. “This library used to be filled with arcane volumes, and now… Now look at it, almost everything’s been burned.” He sighs, and returns his attention to Gallus. “I’ll check the bottom, if you look up on the balcony shelves?”

As it happens, the ‘balcony shelves’ are significantly more precarious than the area below, but after some extremely cautious maneuvering around a collapsed portion of the ceiling, Gallus finds it. The Dreamstride is a heavy book with vaguely blueish covers and the likeness of something… that Gallus definitely would not have guessed to be Vaermina on the first guess, or the second and third for that matter.

“Found it,” Gallus calls, and after eyeing the drop cautiously, he slips back down to the ground level, the book tucked under his arm for safekeeping. He wastes no time in passing it to Erandur, who wastes no time in leafing through it until he reaches the page he’s looking for. Eventually, he finds it, and nods to himself, satisfied.

“Mara be praised! There is a way past the barrier to the inner sanctum,” Erandur exclaims, looking to Gallus with the same steely resolve from earlier. “It involves a recipe for a liquid known as Vaermina’s Torpor.” Gallus knows he hasn’t heard of it, at least not since his amnesia happened, but if The Dreamstride is an alchemical book, and Vaermina’s Torpor is a liquid…

“Is that… a potion?” Gallus asks cautiously. Erandur nods. “I didn’t read the book. What does it do?” Wordlessly, Erandur passes the book over to him, and Gallus quickly looks through the section on Vaermina’s Torpor, and the titular Dreamstride. He quickly gathers that while this will very clearly be very dangerous, it also seems extremely interesting, and his curiosity quickly overshadows his hesitations.

Of the numerous potions that have surfaced to date, Vaermina's Torpor is perhaps the most impressive. A single sip of this viscous liquid places the imbiber in a state known as "The Dreamstride." This condition allows the subject to experience the dreams of another as if they were actually there. The subject becomes an integral part of the dream, behaving as if they belong. To any other entities in this dream state, the subject will be mistaken for the dreamer; the subject will even find his mannerisms, speech patterns and knowledge expanded appropriately.

To an observer, after the subject has imbibed the potion, they will appear to vanish. As the subject traverses distances within the dream, they will also be traversing distances in the actual world. When the Torpor's effect has expired, the subject will fade back into reality in the exact location projected within the Dreamstride. Some Dreamstrides have transported their subjects a few feet, and some have appeared thousands of miles from their origin in a matter of minutes.

It's to be noted that the Dreamstride is highly dangerous and presents the subject with numerous pitfalls. In certain dreams, subjects have been exposed to life-threatening scenarios such as sicknesses, violence and even death. In most cases, the subject simply fades back to our world without harm, but in some instances, the subject never reappeared and was assumed to have expired or the subject reappeared deceased. It's also quite possible that the subject could reappear in a precarious or hazardous location in reality, even though that location appeared safe within the Dreamstride.

Vaermina's Torpor is as mysterious and elusive as the priests that created it. It's unknown whether this unique transport mechanism is a result of the Torpor itself or simply the odd machinations of Vaermina, but the potential for using the Dreamstride to penetrate seemingly impassible obstacles certainly outweighs its mysterious nature.

“So… if I drink this potion, I’ll be able to travel past the barrier. Through a dream,” Gallus concludes, offering the book back to Erandur. He doesn’t take it, but nods, and eventually Gallus just slips the book into his bag for safekeeping. “Does this… really work?”

“As far as I’m aware, it should,” Erandur says. “Yes, the Torpor grants the ability we… they called the Dreamstride, and yes, it allows you to use dreams to travel distances in the real world.”

“That’s… honestly pretty amazing,” Gallus says. After a moment’s hesitation, Erandur smiles slightly.

“Quite amazing, yes,” Erandur agrees. “Alchemy and the blessings of a Divine distilled into an ingestible liquid.” After a moment, he adds, “Sadly, I have yet to see it function in person.”

“So what you’re saying is, I’m going to be your test subject,” Gallus says bluntly. Erandur visibly winces, but nods.

“Well… yes, but also no,” Erandur says. “If there was another way, I would gladly take it. You see, as a sworn priest of Mara, the elixir won’t work for me. The Torpor will only work for sworn priests of Vaermina, or the unaffliliated.” He looks pointedly at Gallus, who gulps.

“Sounds dangerous,” Gallus remarks. “How can you be certain?” Erandur sighs.

“I’m not,” Erandur admits. “I will not lie to you, there is some risk involved. The last time the Torpor was imbibed could have been decades ago. But I swear upon Lady Mara that I will do everything within my power to prevent any harm from befalling you.”

Gallus hesitates, but nods. He’ll take Erandur at his word for now.

“Do you know where we can find the Torpor?” Gallus asks.

“Not for sure,” says Erandur. “However, there used to be a laboratory adjourning the library. If we proceed there, we should be able to obtain an intact sample, Mara willing.”

Several more dead cultists and orcs later, they’ve found it, along with a lot of other alchemy ingredients that Gallus honestly has no clue how to use. Erandur’s more than happy to take the assorted ingredients off his hands, but the Torpor stays with Gallus. He looks at the tall bottle, staring into the depths of the dark liquid within that has to be Vaermina’s Torpor. If only staring at it could give him the answer’s he’s so desperately seeking.

“I’m relieved you discovered a bottle intact, but Dawnstar’s fate rests in that bottle. The longer we wait, the more damage Vaermina could be doing to those poor people,” Erandur says, putting a hand on Gallus’ shoulder and meeting his gaze. Fiery red eyes meet a stormy blue-grey, and Gallus really wishes he could say he isn’t terrified of this. He is. He definitely is. “I understand your hesitation, but I promise you that it works.”

Gallus nods, slowly, and lifts the bottle.

“Bottoms up,” he says, and downs the contents before he can change his mind.