#mannimarco x vestige

[vestige-nan]

The Thorn in my Side, the Pebble in my Shoe: Ch 12

Summary: The main quest line in Mannimarco’s perspective, except that he falls chaotically in love with the vestige just as much as he chaotically hates them.

Fun stuff:  As always, vestige is gender neutral and physical features are not described.

The vestige waved at a bosmer working the vineyard, who gave a small confused wave back. "Are you sure you don't want to stop just for a quick wine tasting? I've heard good things about the vinery."

I pulled my lips up in a sneer. "If we stopped at every passing fancy you had, the war would finish before we reached Alinor."

The vestige's smile grew just a bit at my quip. "There's so much to do and see, can you blame me?"

"Yes."

The vestige laughed and it startled me. I supposed it was a good thing they seemed to like my thorny nature, because I couldn't pull myself to sweeten it even in deceit. "No time to enjoy things, only time for work then?"

My eye twitched, "I enjoy my work."

They hummed as they held their arms behind their back in a way that was both irritating and endearing (as were all things with the vestige), "How lucky for you."

I nearly laughed. Yes, it was quite "lucky" for me, thought quite "unlucky" for the denizens of Nirn.

"Tell me about your work." The vestige said.

"Wouldn't you like to guess?" I said, a smirk on my lips. "You seem the type to like such games."

The vestige's eyes sparkled and my non-beating heart froze, "Maybe so." The vestige tilted their head as they thought, holding their chin and humming. "You're obviously a mage."

"Obviously." I mocked their tone.

"But you're not in the mages guild," The vestige continued. "And you look way to fancy to be a contract mercenary, but not fancy enough to be a sapiarch."

"Ah, yes," I rolled my eyes. "The quantifiable scale of "fanciness". How astute."

The vestige wasn't hurt by my barb, to my disappointment. "Hmm... My guess is your undercover."

I faltered for only a fraction of a moment. How did I keep underestimating the vestige? I didn't let my expression shift, saying cooly, "And what's your reasoning for that?"

"The vagueness in your "business in Alinor". My guess is you might be some secret psijic or agent for the queen, or maybe you're apart of the dark brotherhood." They said with confidence, before their expression paled just slightly. "Uh, if you're apart of the dark brotherhood, you can pretend I never said anything."

I couldn't help the smirk on my face, "If I was undercover, don't you think it would be unwise to accuse me of it? What if I was meant to kill anyone who found me out?"

"I'm realizing that now. But!" They grinned, "I was just taking a guess. So if you are undercover, your cover technically isn't blown. And I'm great at keeping secrets."

I rolled my eyes again. This was the obstacle of Molag Bal, the hindrance of domination, and they're brashness was grating. "You are living in a fantasy."

They chuckled at my annoyance, which only made me more annoyed. They leaned closer to me and my mind was wiped blank. I didn't need to breathe, but it still felt like I was holding my breath. "Is there a place to stay on the way to Alinor?" They asked, innocently.

I couldn't move away from them even though I knew it would've been better to do so. "Rellenthil. We should reach it by nightfall."

"That soon?" They furrowed their brow just slightly, unaware of their presence, their heat so close—so close—to me. "Isn't that where the House of Reveries is?"

I tore my eyes from their neck. I hadn't realized I was staring at their neck, but fortunately they didn't either. I narrowed my eyes at them, certain where they were leading with this.

"We should see a show."

"Did you just ignore me when I spoke about your passing fancies?" I snapped.

They laughed. "We're already going to be in Rellenthil, it's not like we'd be wasting time."

"Nobles wait weeks to attend a show, and you believe they'll just let you attend without any notice?"

The vestige grinned and leaned in even closer to me, their warmth emanating from their skin. "I bet I could sneak in. I'm pretty sneaky." They teased.

Their expression was that of a conspirator. As if I was in on something secret. As if we shared a secret together. The thought threw my mind and heart into a frenzy, that they would give me something so hidden from the rest of the world. They didn't, they only shared a bit of fun, but the very fantasy of their secrets being mine pumped the venom that was my blood through my veins. I wanted every last one of them. I wanted no soul or being on Nirn, Oblivion, and Aetherius to know the vestige like how I did. I wanted to use a scalpel on their soul and extract the secrets the vestige refused to share with me. I wanted the vestige vulnerable with transparency in front of me.

This time, the vestige didn't miss my expression. Their eyes widened, but they didn't pull away. I was glad they didn't. If they had, I wouldn't have been able to stop myself from grabbing them. Then, after my madness, my mind began to race. Were they repulsed by my hunger? Confused by it? Impressed by it? Did they gain further insight into me or were they enraptured with me? Did they recognize me? With all of my years in imperial politics, the vestige's true thoughts were hidden from me, and the fact that they were hidden from me filled be with an undeniable rage. Rage that I swallowed.

"I have no interest in attending such frivolity." Somehow, in an act with the strength of a deity, I was the one to pull away. My voice didn't sound like my own.

"I..." The vestige reluctantly pulled away as well, eyes still trained on me. Their attention soothed my anger just slightly. "..."

They were at a loss for words. Because of calculation? Fear? Longing? Confusion? I wanted to strangle the truth out of them. Instead, I just snapped at them, "You what?"

"I don't mind seeing the show alone, but you'll be missed." They smiled, and it was as if I hadn't stared at them as if I wanted to eat them alive. For some reason, I found myself growing annoyed that they moved on so quickly. It was better for me, but it left me uneasy. Were they going to try to escape from me the first chance they could? Or had they thought they just imagined it? Or perhaps they hadn't thought anything of it at all? I felt I was going mad. "But do you want to get dinner together?"

What? "What?" What?

"I don't know the cuisine here very well, so you'll have to decide what we get." They said, and I didn't trust them for a moment. "I imagine the seafood here must be divine."

"I didn't say yes." Were they going to attempt to poison my food? It wouldn't work, I was dead, but I would still be offended by the action.

"You don't have to if you don't want to." They said simply, and I was frustrated they didn't push harder. Weren't they at least going to ask again?

"Well, I didn't say no either." I sneered through gritted teeth.

They're grin widened, and I hated them so much.

[elvensnowart]

     necromancer bride

[madamefluffnstuff]

Long Distance

Fandom: Elder Scrolls Online

Pairing: Naryu Virian x GN!Reader

Rating: T

Warning(s): Mentions of assassins, political assassination in a medieval-esque fantasy setting, long distance relationships, overall fluff.

Words: 700

AN: I noticed our favorite Morag Tong assassin doesn't get much love on here. I wanted to fix that.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Naryu stretched herself out on the inn bed, sighing in relief. Another contract finished- quite cleanly too, she thought to herself. Varon would be pleased. This particular "victim" managed to weasel their way to the top of the Morag Tong's hit list while simultaneously being extremely difficult to track. But Naryu Virian is nothing if not resourceful, and a few discreetly slipped coins (along with a cheap bottle of wine) soon got her the answer she was looking for.

However she couldn't leave town just yet; she entered under the guise of a pilgrim on a journey to honor the Ancestors. Luckily for her there was, in fact, a shrine not too far from the little hamlet. To leave so suddenly would raise alarms, and the guild would be quite cross with her if there were suspicions of their involvement.

No, another day or two should suffice. It would give the assassin enough time to solidify an alibi, gather some supplies for the trip back, and make her escape.

If everything went as planned she'd be gone before they found the body.

Suddenly the sound of running water filling a wash basin filled her ears. A thought came: a hot bath sounds delightful right about now. Not only as a treat for a successful mission, but also to make sure she got all the blood off. As she stood up to request a private bath, her foot bumped her knapsack and a small envelope slipped out of the opening.

Her eyes widened a bit, how did she forget about that? After all, it was hand delivered by a courier just this morning. For a brief moment she had thought her cover had been blown until she saw the handwriting. The Dunmer woman knew that handwriting from intimate experience. Many surreptitious notes passed back and forth from the owner, along with many maybe-not-so-discreet glances across crowded rooms. One of those notes and glances even lead to a late night meeting behind some stables for a heated and passionate kiss.

Naryu snatched up the letter and plopped back on the bed as she very carefully broke the seal.

"N,

I hope this letter finds you well. Not getting into too much trouble, right? Though knowing you, my sweet, you're getting into all kinds of trouble.

Things are relatively well. I'm back in Vvardenfell helping the Mages Guild recover some old tomes. It's a bit dull, but the coin is good. Right now I'm in Seyda Neen, where I will then make my way to Vivec City. We'll see what happens after that.

I miss you terribly. Things just aren't the same without you, especially when I don't get to hear your voice. I'd like to swap stories with you again when we meet up. Mine are not nearly as exciting as yours but I know you like to hear them anyway.

You're probably on a mission right now, so just make sure to stay safe and be careful. Write back whenever you can, my dear.

All my love,

V.

P.S. Come visit soon. The dogs miss you."

A dreamy sigh escaped her lips. "V" for Vestige. Most people knew them as a war hero, a savior, maybe even a walking good luck charm, depending on who you asked. But Naryu knew them as someone else- they trusted her enough to tell her their story, of Mannimarco's betrayal, Coldharbor, and losing their soul to the God of Despair and Domination... it was crazy to hear.

Even crazier to think they'd trust her, an assassin, with such a secret.

Those in her line of work were discouraged from having romantic relationships, so Naryu was definitely pushing some boundaries by having this long-distance one. However what Varon didn't know wouldn't hurt him. As much as she wanted to keep the letter she knew it would be best to get rid of it. The fireplace downstairs would work nicely...

But that could wait until tomorrow. For now she was going to read it over and over again and hear their voice in her head until the sun rose for a new dawn.

It would suffice until she could hear it again with her own two ears.

[gortrash]

3, 9, and 16 for the Spread Love ask game!

One of the best takes you’ve ever seen

I’ve only just seen this take and reblogged it but the idea that being nearly executed would give the Dragonborn a whopping amount of trauma. Not only just that, but so much horrendous shit happens to our player characters in the games but it never gets explored because we’re supposed to be these vague figures with no discernible feelings. Nobody ever asks the PC how they’re doing and I really think they need it!

Your favourite fanon

I believe you also answered this question as the same but OBVIOUSLY it’s going to be Nerevarine Teldryn. I mean, check the name, to me he is the Nerevarine, no questions asked. He met Saint Jiub once, you know! I mean come on.

One of your favourite tropes 

Answered that here so I’ll answer for another but I’m an enemies to lovers advocate. Say, LDB x Miraak! But a step up from that? Enemies AND lovers. “I hate you to the point of obsession and it’s pissing me off bc I’m supposed to be praying on your downfall.” It’s a very guilty ship of mine, but Vestige x Mannimarco fits that criteria to some degree.

[ladymarinamart]

betrayal/liberation

[tamriellie]

WIP Modern AU: Mannimarco X Cassia Livius(Vestige, Pre-Getting Goddamn Sacrificed)

[ollieplimsolls]

vestige x mannimarco is so sexy bc of the inherent eroticism of fighting for like 700 years on and off

[vestige-nan]

The Thorn in my Side, the Pebble in my Shoe: Ch 9

Summary: The main quest line in Mannimarco’s perspective, except that he falls chaotically in love with the vestige just as much as he chaotically hates them.

Fun stuff: Small violent imagery warning, it gets a little gory in Manni’s head.  As always, vestige is gender neutral and physical features are not described.

One of the many benefits of lichdom included sleep, at least not in access, was not a necessity for me. Though even when I was alive, I had cast a spell here and there to bend my physical limitations and wave off timewasting slumber. That fool, Trechtus, worried that the prolonged sleep deprivation—even by magical means—might have a negative effect on my psyche. But there was always so much work to be done, experiments to perform, ancient lore to study, unsuspecting victims to murder and then raise.

However, this didn't mean I couldn't sleep. Just that I didn't need to often and for much less time than a lowly mortal. But while sleep was more of a recreational pastime, dreams very rarely came to me. This, I assumed, had less to do with my status as a lich and more to do with Vaermina not wishing to catch the attention of Molag Bal.

As such, my confusion was appropriate when I woke up with a start from my dream. Details didn't slip from my mind, nor did I scramble to rack my brain for specificities. I remembered it wholly, vividly, and its' palpability sent chills dancing down my spine as I sat in my bed.

I sat on the throne in an empty hall of cold harbor. Only one other living being (if you could call them living) was in the hall with me. The vestige, flush with exhaustion and trepidation, gripped their weapon with spent desperation, their breath heavy and their legs trembling. Bones, rotten flesh, and all manner of decay littered the floor around them. I didn't carry the same exhaustion as they had. If anything, I was more bored than spent as I crossed my legs.

"Do you surrender?" I asked, inspecting my nails with passing disinterest.

The vestige swallowed and attempted to slow their breathing. I could see how their eyes wavered with uncertainty. They had resisted so fiercely before, but now, surrounded by fallen enemies and not having landed a single scratch on me, I could tell they were no longer so sure.

However, no answer was not good enough for me. I wanted an admission of defeat.

"Very well," I yawned with a flick of my wrist, and in a black swirl of flesh and bone from the vestige's fallen enemies, a great flesh atronach crawled from the remains and the mort. It let out a horrifying roar, its' whole face unhinging to bellow, and—as if they could take no more—the vestige collapsed to their knees, their weapon dropping beside them and the hands falling to the rot beneath them.

"I surrender!" Their voice was hoarse with exhaustion and stretched with desperation. They kept their head lowered, as if they couldn't bear to look me in the eyes as they succumbed to my power. "I surrender..."

A thrill of pleasure traveled my veins like lightning. What lovely words that would sound even better in a tortured chorus of agony.

I waved my hand and—to my delight—the vestige flinched when the atronach collapsed into blood, bones, and death. The vestige's breath left their quivering lips in relief, but the tension remained in their shoulders as I uncrossed my legs and stood. Step by step, I descended my throne, treading unconcerned through the carnage. When I reached the vestige, their form trembling in anxious anticipation, I circled their kneeling form as I inspected them. Their eyes unable to meet mine, the sweat of exertion trailing down their neck, their chest rising and falling in steady acceleration under my scrutiny.

To have the object of my ire in front of me so was sweeter than moonsugar and more intoxicating than skooma.

As I rounded about them, I straightened my back in a poise to feign indifference, "Again."

The vestige stuttered only for a moment, "I surrender."

"Again."

"I surrender!" Their desperation seeped into their voice.

I inspected my nails, "To whom?"

"To you! I surrender—" The vestige inhaled sharply, finally gaining the courage to meet my eyes, and I was filled with a familiar hunger to bask in that gaze. "Please, King of Worms, have mercy—!"

I couldn't help but laugh, "You level my armies, steal my chancellor, attempt to foil my plans, and you have the audacity to beg my mercy?"

The vestige opened their mouth, as if scouring their mind for an answer to respond, but ultimately could not speak.

"Are you too weak from my risen forces to respond?" I mocked as I knelt to their level. "Pathetic."

The rotten blood and flesh oozed between the vestige's tightened grasp against the floor as they looked away in shame, their brow knotted and their eyes cast down. I couldn't stop myself from grabbing their jaw and pulling their gaze back on me.

"Do not." My voice echoed in the hall, louder than I willed. "Look away from me."

The vestige's eyes flitted through a medley of emotions, each more tantalizing than the last. Visceral fear. Broken will. Reluctant obedience. And somehow, despite the thrill of seeing the vestige defeated and submitted, it was their look of captivation that filled my head with delirium. Eyes so trained on me, mesmerized by my presence—my power, that they couldn't pull away if they wanted. Attention entranced with deep, fervid interest restrained by tentative fear, the vestige was mine.

They were mine, and they did not have the will to oppose that.

What an exciting thought! The vestige, the unabashed nuisance in my machinations; the single obstacle between me and godhood, was mine! Mine to own, mine to maim, mine to torture, mine to kill, mine to resurrect, mine to mold, mine to command, mine to use— They were mine.

I suddenly became very aware of my hand holding their jaw. The warmth of their skin was radiant against my cold, lifeless fingertips. How strange it was that a soulless being could be filled with so much warmth, and that they could smell so sweet in a room full of corpses, and that they could look so tempting after being so irritating.

I loosened my grip to just a few fingers tilting their chin up, and they did not dare turn away from me. I forced my voice to soften, a voice I used often in my calculative manipulations, "I must admit, no being in Tamriel has bested as many of my forces as you have."

Their throat bobbed as they swallowed.

"Nor have any slayed foes as powerful as you have. Are you proud of this?" My eyes twinkled in a patronizing glimmer, "Be honest."

The vestige bit their lower lip, "Yes."

My eyes were drawn to their lips, "You should be. You will make a valuable tool..." My fingers lightly traveled along their neck, gliding to across their collarbone. "After I take you apart and reassemble you."

The vestige was shaking under my touch and I could feel their pulse quicken. I would enjoy draining the blood from their body, slowly, and making them watch as I replaced it with venom... But I enjoyed the warmth I could feel from their blush much more. "I— Please, King of Worms, there... there must be something I can do for your mercy? Anything!"

I laughed again. "I haven't even began your torture and you're already trying to bargain with me? How charmingly naïve..." I grasped their chin once more and they gasped at my abrupt movement. "Don't worry. You will have plenty to do once I am done with you."

With a snap of my fingers with my other hand, chains of magicka snapped around the vestige's wrist. A new and exhilarating panic swept over the vestige as they tried to pull from the chains in vain. The dread in their eyes as they looked at me made me dizzy and I was overwhelmed with the desire hold their heart in my hands; to feel the pulse of their heart quicken between my fingers and to see the horror in the vestige's eyes as I bring it to my lips to take a bite. I wanted to simultaneously hold the vestige so full of life, feeling their warm hand against my cheek and to bathe in their boiling blood, singing as I let their marrow sink into my skin. I wanted to swallow their cries in a kiss and lick the blood from their wounds and I wanted the vestige to love and hate every moment of it.

There would be plenty of time to indulge my madness later.

"Please! King of Worms, you don't have to hurt me! I'll do what you want!" The vestige cried, their voice taut with terror and their hands pulling at the chains.

"Oh, I believe you." I held the vestige's face in my hands and relished the captivation that never left the vestige's gaze. Even in their terror they couldn't resist me. "I want to hurt you."

With the vestige mine and their expression consumed with dread and panic, I pulled their face to me, pressing my cold lips against their warm ones, reveling in the taste of victory and the vestige's tongue. I could feel the vestige heat up beneath my hands, their warm blood a charming tell. I pulled away just as quickly, my smile as bewitching as the chains.

"Do try to last long." I cooed, "I don't want to fix your broken mind more times than I need to."

I downed three stamina potions in succession just to give me the energy to deal with whatever deranged dream Vaermina and Sheogorath must've crafted together as a sick daedric joke (surprisingly less violent than most daedric jokes go).

I leaned against my desk with one hand and rubbed my temple with the other, groaning low and exasperated. It was almost the perfect dream, and I would have even thanked the lesser daedric prince for what I would've assumed would be a glimpse into the future, save for the end.

How insulting! Degrading! To think I would lower myself so—so—low! As to kiss, or even to think about—!

I heard the vestige stir in their sleep through their visage and my head snapped to it. I watched them, holding the breath I don't take, with furious disgust. Then, the end of my dream began replaying in my mind and I could feel my face turning orange at the thought.

"Disgusting!" I said, not to anyone in particularly, but mostly to the vestige. I went to close the visage with a wave of my hand, but stopped when the vestige began to stir again.

Were they having a nightmare? Were they having the same nightmare?

My face burned brighter.

My eyes were melded to the visage as the vestige's brow furrowed and their breath quickened. Something cracked underneath the pressure of my grip but I didn't care enough to notice what it was. The vestige looked troubled by their nightmare, maybe even pained. Would they hate it? Would they be disgusted by it like I was? Would they wake up with fear? Glancing at every shadow with nervousness? What if they woke up flushed and unsure? What if they liked it? What if they sought out the mundus stones—sought out me? They did say I was pretty.

The vestige's lips parted and the ending of my dream replayed and replayed and replayed; the taste of their lips, the trepidation in their eyes, their breath on my skin, their warm blood beneath my cold cold hands.

"Hey, you alright?" Some young breton shook them awake, pulling me from my own personal oblivion. The vestige inhaled softly as they woke, turning to the man, slightly disoriented. "Looked like you were having a nightmare."

I ground my teeth. Did he wake them up before they reached the end of the dream? I couldn't tell if I was relieved or furious.

The vestige groaned, rubbing their neck. "Yeah, I was... It was really weird..."

I furrowed my brow. "Weird"? What did they mean by "weird"? "Weird" as in "I was disturbed by the intimate nature of the dream and I don't want to be tortured" or as in "I was intrigued by the intimate nature of the dream but I don't want to tell this breton that out of bashfulness"?

"I know this is going to sound insane but..." The vestige sat up, stretching, and I was too transfixed with how their bones popped. "There were dragons all over Elsweyr!"

I blanked.

"Dragons?" The breton man laughed, "Come on!"

"No, really!" They asserted, "And one of them was good!"

I waved the visage off, evaporating it from existence. I downed another stamina potion while wishing I had picked up a bottle of sylph-mead somewhere. I didn't care if the vestige was bedding Molag Bal himself, a few days not having to listen to the ramblings of that halfwit vestige would do me well.

In the meantime, sending a legion of undead after Vaermina's cult seemed appropriate.

[vestige-nan]

The Thorn in my Side, the Pebble in my Shoe: Ch 10

Summary: The main quest line in Mannimarco’s perspective, except that he falls chaotically in love with the vestige just as much as he chaotically hates them.

Fun stuff: More small violent imagery warning.  As always, vestige is gender neutral and physical features are not described.

My fists hammered my workbench. It's stone split with a loud CRACK. My fingernails dug into spoiled rock. My teeth ground tight enough to shatter. I wanted to break something else. I wanted to scream. I wanted to tear the vestige's eyes out.

They rescued Sai Sahan.

I slammed the wall with my fist. Dark blood trickled down my wrist.

I was there. I was there! I was in the Halls of Torment. I interrogated Sai moments before they could have rescued him. The sheer luck the vestige had was as infuriating as it was unbelievable. Had I dallied just a few minutes more, or had I kept my visage of the vestige up, or had maybe any of the daedra present stopped them the vestige would have been in my grasp.

My lifeless blood boiled as I stared at the visage, bearing holes into it hoping the vestige would catch on fire. They were celebrating the return of the redguard, their eyes alight with accomplishment and their smile bright with assurance. It was disgusting. I couldn't look away. I had to force my temper to cool, slowing my breath. When I was sane enough to think, I combed my hair out of my face with my hand that wasn't bleeding.

"Another meaningless victory, pathetic hero." Though I knew they couldn't hear me, I did gain some respite voicing my thoughts as if they could. "It would be more concerning if I hadn't planned for everything."

It was true. While the band of heroes enjoyed their petty victory, I had already prepared for the worst. As if I wouldn't have casted a tracking enchantment the moment Sai Sahan was in my captivity! And, of course, I could always follow the visage carefully if that didn't work. A wicked chuckle passed my lips as I imagined the vestige's anguish when they realize the being they saved would be their own undoing.

The vestige turned they're head. My desiccated heart skipped a beat. They were looking through me, obviously, but it almost seemed as though they were looking at me if I stepped slightly to the left.

I growled and shut down the visage. My face felt so warm, it almost felt alive. How utterly frustrating and fallacious. Ever since that damned dream I had been plagued with obsessive and contradictory thoughts. I wanted to burn the vestige and bask in that heat, but I also wanted to feel their warm breath against my cold flesh. I wanted to break their bones with their own weapon, but I also wanted to trace their veins with my feather-light touch. I wanted to strangle them, but I also wanted to hold their waist. I wanted to make them bleed, but I also wanted to make them blush. I wanted to see them cry, but I also wanted to see them smile—and so on and so on.

I wished I could blame my condition on the folly of a daedric prince, or even the last displays of influence of a dead, pathetic aedra. But I had too much respect for myself to lie to myself. And moving forward, if my plans were to come to fruition, I had to consider all variable factors of vulnerability or fallibility.

I was... somewhat enticed by the vestige.

Yes, their strength of might and ability to keep up with my power likely played a part. Yes, having to watch them day and night probably had a part to play as well. Yes, it may have occurred because the line between hate and love was so easily blurred and traversed. Yes, that damned dream ruined everything, and it was all Vaermina's fault.

I groaned. As much as I wished to keep my visage put away until this unwelcome attraction sputtered and died (not unlike how the vestige will when I kill them... that was still the plan?) me avoiding the visage was how I lost Sai Sahan in the first place. With a wave of my hand, the visage returned. I licked the blood from my bloodied wrist as my eyes rolled to the vestige.

The vestige was no longer celebrating with their band of fools—and thank oblivion for that, I might've gone nauseous if I had to watch them hold hands and give speeches of hope for one moment more—but instead was once again out on the road.

They weren't doing anything of importance. I could easily push the visage aside and finish my own work, and my sanity would be more whole for it. And yet, my eyes were glued to the vestige. Their gait, their posture, their skin, the way their attention was so easily picked up by the oddest of things. A hand came to my face, and I realized how warm it was. I wanted to watch them for hours.

It was an interesting thing: knowing your own folly and yet being unable to correct it. My mind understood completely the madness of my desire. Not just because of who I desired, but also the mania in how I desired. And yet, my very veins compelled me to obsess. Logically, I knew wanting both to wear the vestige's fingers as a bracelet—so that they may always hold my hand—and to have their warm hands full of life caress my neck was not only impossible but also insane. Regardless, I wanted both and I wouldn't be satisfied without both.

But I was rarely ever satisfied, anyway, and watching the vestige would be enough to scratch the itch for now.

The vestige approached a busy city, one close enough to the harborage that it hadn't taken long for them to reach it. They looked at their map, a slight crease in their brow, displaying how obviously confused they were even as shopkeepers and beggars called to them. How delightfully and annoyingly naive they looked, and how easy they would've been to take advantage of. It was no wonder I killed them. The vestige probably followed the first person they met in a city like that, only to get kidnapped and sacrificed immediately.

A hand clapped on the vestige's shoulder, startling them out of their stupor. A smile brightened over the vestige's face when they looked up at the perpetrator, "Hey, Darien."

"You lost there, friend?" It was a young breton man, the same one (probably? it was difficult to tell anyone insignificant apart) who listened to the vestige's dream. I squinted at the visage.

"Me, lost?" The vestige's smile was mischievous in nature, and their eyes sparkled in a way that made me want to take them and keep them in my possession, "Never."

The breton laughed, and a sharp pain came to my hands. They were bleeding. I had dug my nails into my palms without realizing. I groaned.

Great. Jealousy. As if my attraction to the vestige wasn't annoying enough.

"Where are you headed?" He asked. He leaned in too close toward the vestige as he looked at the map. I wondered if the vestige could feel the heat of life coming from him. I wondered if they could smell him, and he didn't smell of death and rot. I wondered if they liked it and wanted him to lean closer.

The vestige didn't look phased in the slightest by the breton, "Summerset. I'm trying to book passage there."

"Summerset?" The breton said, an eyebrow raised, "Why would you want to go there?" I wondered how easily I could kill him. I wondered if I would do it fast to get it done quickly or if I would do it slow to torture him. I wondered if I could force the vestige to kill him.

"I haven't been there, yet." The vestige stopped and thought for a breath, "Probably."

He laughed as he lowered their map, his fingers much too close to the vestige's, "Probably?"

"It's a long story," they put their map away, and when the vestige left the breton's vicinity, I could breathe again. "You wouldn't happen to know anyone who could book me passage?"

"I couldn't tell you." He tapped his chin in thought, "Summerset just barely opened its borders... Do you even know anyone there who could show you around?"

The vestige shrugged, "I'm sure I can find someone."

I thought entered my mind. A plan, even. An absolutely impulsive plan, but not an unnecessary one. If I were to meet the vestige in disguise, if I were to gain their trust, I could thoroughly ascertain their plans and motives against me. I could even plant the seeds of doubt, of which that could tear the vestige from Varen and the rest of those fools. And if it so happens that I can watch their sleeping form in person, that would just be an additional benefit that I just so happen to also receive from my brilliant plan.

I studied the vestige closer, a smile creeping on my face as my fingers curled around my cheek. I remembered our last in-person meeting. Their eyes ablaze with determination and trepidation. Their spellbound attention addicting. The challenge they presented to me like a gift to my power.

I wondered if they would look at me the same way when I'm disguised.

[vestige-nan]

The Thorn in my Side, the Pebble in my Shoe: Ch 11

Summary: The main quest line in Mannimarco’s perspective, except that he falls chaotically in love with the vestige just as much as he chaotically hates them.

Fun stuff: The story is set before the whole clockwork city/court of bedlam debacle, so that hasn't happened yet. Nagaiaran means king of death in ayleidoon because neither I or mannimarco have any subtlety. And, as always, vestige is gender neutral and physical features are not described.

There the vestige was. Close enough to kill. Fresh off the docks of Shimmerene; purchasing an apple from a grocer and leaving them an ostentatious tip (because of course they did). Sunlight basked their silhouette in golden rays and a warm breeze welcomed them in a gentle ruffle of their clothes and birds sang their song just a touch lovelier as the vestige past and a single butterfly landed on their outstretched finger as if to bless their obtruding visit to Summerset.

By oblivion, I hated them.

As the butterfly flitted away (as if feeling my malice and making a run for it), the vestige—live and colorful and so so real—pulled out their map and looked at it, enthusiastic for their adventure to come. We were separated by a dozen or so steps, and yet I could feel their skin, their breath, their heart against my fingertips. My whole being itched to lunge for the vestige, to squeeze their throat in my fists so I could feel all three at once. I took slow, carefully controlled breaths. If I learned anything advising under Varen, it was control.

Ah, there it was. The gentle crease in their brow. Their prompt to my entrance: that endearing, stupid naivete. It made me want to tease them to a blush before sacrificing their soul for my dark enchantments. As I began my first few steps toward them, I caught myself in the reflection of a darkened window. I could have disguised myself thoroughly, taking the form of a Khajiit peddler or Argonian maid, but I didn't. I couldn't debase myself to become farther from what I am, which was Altmer, if not Aldmer. Or perhaps horrifyingly, there was some senseless scamp inside of me that wanted to be recognized by the vestige, that wanted to be fearfully discovered. To see the vestige's eyes tremble in realization, and then their bumbling attempts at feigning ignorance. How sweet that would be... And so there I was, a tall, handsome Altmer (though not quite as beautiful as myself), full of life and sun which was enough to veil my own eyes.

As I turned back to the vestige, a different Altmer saw their plight for directions and began walking towards them. In a moment of uncharacteristic panic, I cast a silencing spell under my breath, my hands moving in quick jerks. The Altmer tried to speak, and when no noise came out, he gently touched his throat in confusion. He looked around, searching for whoever hexed him, and since I was the only one there, I grabbed him while the vestige was still concentrating on their map and dragged him kicking and struggling into the shadow of an empty building. His eyes screamed where his voice couldn't as I stabbed him repeatedly in the chest.

I let out a huff of air. I hadn't meant to immediately devolve the situation to carnage, but it was my way so I wasn't surprised. With a simple wave of my hand and a few arcane words in a whisper, I raised the newly made corpse, fixed its clothes that its wounds wouldn't be immediately noticed, and then sent it off to wander into the ocean for the Sload to deal with. Divines know how much those slugs were endlessly frothing at the mouth for fresh corpses.

Fixing the lapel of my tunic, I turned back to the vestige only to find another Altmer attempting to help the vestige. Wasn't Summerset supposed to be spiteful toward newcomers?

I silenced, dragged, and killed that Altmer as well under the shadow of the empty building, and she was a bit easier to murder with her weak constitution. I sent her corpse off to the ocean as well, but this time a guard saw me.

Three corpses marching off to become the Sload's new plaything and I hadn't even spoken to the vestige yet. I groaned, dragging my hand down my face.

"Are you alright?"

I forced myself not to startle as I whipped toward the voice as lovely as a song. The vestige, all curious eyes and friendly warmth, was looking at me—at me, not through me or nearly at me, at me—with a gentle tilt of their head. My eyes were drawn to their parted lips for the briefest of moments as my mind flitted through countless fantasies of the vestige, each either horrifically violent or even more horrifically soft. Spilt blood mixed with soft touches mixed with severed screams mixed with sweet scents mixed with—and then it was all over in a fraction of an instant as I brought my eyes back to theirs. "Excuse me?" I asked.

"You seem stressed." They said.

Their presumption, however well-meaning, prompted a flare of rage under my skin. As if I was just another helpless bystander offering them a quest, pathetic and wretched and begging them to solve all my problems for me. I subdued it, however, taking their brass as an opportunity. "I am somewhat... lost." I cringed to myself. How demeaning.

Their laughter was light and melodious and it made me want to reach down their throat, rip out their vocal cords, and weave them in such a way that they may only ever sing songs for me. "We must be birds of a feather, then."

"Is that right?" I said, "I must have misplaced my map, but you appear to have yours."

The vestige didn't notice my subtle insult. "You're welcome to use mine if you'd like?"

"Please." I said, and the word was bile in my mouth. I took their map as they handed it to me and was careful not to touch them, afraid of how I would react if I brushed against their fingers.

"Where are you headed?" They asked.

"Alinor."

They brightened and it was like sun on my skin. "What a coincidence, so am I."

Of course it wasn't a coincidence. I saw them prattle on about it while they were on the ship through the visage. My grin widened just a touch. "How unlikely."

"What's your name?" They asked.

"Nagaiaran," I said. "And yours?"

They gave me their name freely, and I mentally compared their name with an impossible title: Consort of Worms. It certainly sounded right with their name, though such things would have to occur after the revenge and torture. I began to walk as I folded up the map and they walked with me.

"Well then, Nagaiaran," They said, "What brings you to Alinor?"

"Business," I brushed non-existent lint off my shoulders. "Just a small matter my particular talents acquire."

They eyed my staff, "Oh, are you a member of the mages guild?"

I looked at them with complete disgust.

They laughed, this time louder and less polite but just as overwhelmingly wonderful, "I've only ever seen Nords or Redguards look at me that way when I mention the mages guild."

"Perhaps Nords and Redguards are wiser for it." I almost laughed at the absurdity of Sai or the half-giant being wise about anything.

"Perhaps." They mused and their eyes twinkled in that mischievous fashion that I loathed to love. "Can I take a guess?"

"A guess for what?" I asked, and I knew what they wanted to guess but I liked making them do things.

"A guess for why you don't like the mages guild." They said.

I rolled my eyes and waved my hand dismissively. I knew I should've been more cordial to lower the vestige's guard, but something about the way they carried themself made me exasperated.

They put two fingers to their lips with their interlocked hands as they looked up in deep thought. Then they turned to me with a wry, annoying, rage-inducing grin, "You had a falling out with one of the members."

I was both astonished and furious that they were able to guess that. I was sure my face burned with heat and I stalled my reply just a touch too late.

"No way, really?" They said, their smile widening.

"No." I said, swallowing my frustration while swatting a butterfly away from me.

"Alright," Their voice was smooth as they straightened their back and their eyes hooded. It was clear they didn't believe me, the master of lies and deceit who fooled the emperor for years. "We don't have to talk about it."

My blood boiled at that condescending quip. I was quick to change the subject, "Then, why are you headed to Alinor?"

"Because I haven't been yet." They said, "I think."

"You think?"

"It's a long story." I didn't like how they gave me the same answer as the Breton man.

I couldn't help myself, "Can I take a guess as well?"

Their expression lit with a playful curiosity, "You can try."

"Hmm." I pretended to think, putting a finger to my chin in faux thought. "Amnesia."

They gaped at me and I could drink their attention. As their surprise subsided, their regard for me was marked with captivated fascination, one that scratched every itch, satiated every hunger that plagued me. "I guess it's not too long of a story." They said in a wide grin, and the tempting gleam in their eyes threatened my control more than any of their annoying quips did.

[vestige-nan]

The Thorn in my Side, the Pebble in my Shoe: Ch 8

Summary: The main quest line in Mannimarco’s perspective, except that he falls chaotically in love with the vestige just as much as he chaotically hates them.

Fun stuff: Don’t be mad, but I deviated a tiny bit from vestige’s canon reaction to learning the prophet’s identity. However, everyone else’s lines are canon, so if Varen sounds crazy I swear it was how he was written. As always, vestige is gender neutral and physical features are not described.

"The time has come for the Vestige to know the truth." Aquilarios said, and my lips pulled into a smirk as I rested my cheek on my fist. Though the vestige had taken the entertainment of watching the chancellor and the half-giant skirmish from me, the prospect of watching the vestige realize the deceit of their so-called "prophet" was equally, if not more, gratifying to imagine.

Abnur, despite his treachery, seemed to share in my satisfaction. "What's this? The Vestige doesn't know? Oh, this is rich!"

The half-giant looked wonderfully distraught, "Sire, don't …!"

"Vestige. Until now, you have only known me as the Prophet. But that is not my true name. " 

The vestige looked at Aquilarios quizzically, and I couldn't help leaning toward the visage in anticipation. The irony was too sweet; in the very same evening that my closest advisor betrayed me, Aquilarios would reveal his fraud to the vestige. (Though Aquilarios's betrayal was a petty offense at best compared to Tharn's act of treason, any morsel of the vestige's suffering was acceptable for now). I wondered if the vestige would be angry? Maybe upset to the point of tears? Or perhaps disgusted with the imperial's betrayal of trust? My smirk widened to a grin.

"I ... am Varen Aquilarios."

I felt my nails scratch and curl against the desk I was leaning against. For a brief moment, I imagined the vestige's face contort in anguish, betrayal, and outrage. I imagined what they might say in their moment of heightened emotion, what they might blurt out in the heat of anger, and if venomous words of rage might turn into weapons being drawn. I had no doubt that the being who could stand up to my forces would exert no large amount of effort felling the half-giant and the battlemage betrayer. I pictured the haunted expression the vestige would wear leaving the harborage, or possibly they would be disappointed and hurt?

I bit my lower lip. Perhaps I could send an envoy to rub it in, a corpse or a cult member to taunt their betrayal before lunging to their throat. Perhaps I could visit them myself to mock them in their weakened state before sending them to Coldharbor. After all, they would be significantly weakened from battle. Vulnerable even, physically and mentally. They might even be easy to manipulate in their state... susceptible to the gentlest of suggestions—

"Oh. Okay." 

My vision of the betrayed, vulnerable, tearful vestige was shattered and replaced with the vestige squinting and nodding as if they were attempting to feign recognition over the name (and yet, I highly suspected they were wracking their mind to remember the name Varen Aquilarios—their late fallen emperor!) By the divines, if I had not witnessed their daftness before, I would have assumed the vestige knew I was watching them and was toying with me on purpose.

Somehow, I was the only one to notice the vestige's ignorance.

"Our fallen Emperor, in the tattered robes of a Moth Priest, blind as a newborn kitten!" Tharn gloated. 

The vestige's eyes lit up with recognition and I got the barbaric urge to club them over the head with my staff. No disappointment, no betrayal, nothing?! I grit my teeth as my hands came into tight fists. 

"I am sorry I deceived you, Vestige," The 'emperor' lowered his head as he ignored Tharn, turning to the vestige.

"It's fine," The vestige waved him off. I seethed through my teeth. The divines must have created the vestige simply to plague my life and spoil my existence.

"You are angry," Aquilarios said, resigned. "It is to be expected." 

"I'm not, really."

"We lied to you... I... I hope you can forgive us. Forgive me." The half-giant lowered her head as well in a pitiful sign of acquiescence. I rolled my eyes.

"You're forgiven," The vestige thought for a moment. "And did you lie to me? I don't think you ever said you weren't the emperor."

"You can be at the very least a little upset," Tharn seemed to mirror my irritation. 

"It's really not that big of a deal," The vestige said.

"It is. I caused this. All of this. If Molag Bal destroys this world, the blame will be mine, and mine alone." At Aquilarios's words, I scoffed aloud at the imperial's audacity. I was well aware of Aquilarios's tendency to self-sabotage in a martyrial cry for attention, but to take credit for my masterful handiwork? My deviceful and brilliant machinations? His presumptuousness was a disrespect.

"Uh, no. It's not," The vestige said. "This was Mannimarco's fault, he tricked you." I rose an eyebrow. 'Tricked' sounded like I pulled some juvenile caper, not orchestrated the most seditious act of treason ever known to mer or men, but at least the vestige had placed credit where it was due. I crossed my legs.

"I fell for his treachery because of my own arrogance." Aquilarios gripped his staff tighter. "Whatever you think of me, you must not blame Lyris."

"I don't."

"As for me... When this is over, if you still judge me harshly, you can end my life. I will offer no resistance." I rolled my eyes a second time. Every day I no longer had to pander to the imperial's melodramatics was a day better lived.

"That's crazy, so no I won't do that." The vestige exhaled, before taking the imperial's hand that wasn't gripping his staff with both of theirs. "I promise I'm not upset. Prophet or emperor, that doesn't matter. What matters is you're doing something about it now."

The half-giant beamed, Aquilarios let out a shaky sigh of relief, and I gagged.

The vestige let go of the decrepit, pitiful man. "So, what now?"

"We must find Sai Sahan. Everything depends on that. Abnur and I must confer on that matter."

And I would have to make preparations so that they would not get even within a league of finding his location. If only the wretched, miserable was as weak in holding his tongue as he was at swordplay.

"Before that," Tharn spoke up. "Vestige, may I have a word?"

The vestige perked up, coming to the betrayer's side. Something irked me about how quickly the insipid hero trusted Tharn, who not an hour ago was their enemy. Or perhaps I was still upset with Tharn's treachery. The black eye on his face certainly helped.

"This may come as a bit of an alarm to you, Vestige, but it is better to be wary of where you are when you're out doing... whatever it is you do."

The vestige's brow furrowed, and my lips curled up in a smirk. At the very least, Tharn was fooled by my deception in regard to my visage. 

"What do you mean?" The vestige asked.

"The King of Worms has had eyes on you for some time now. A magical visage that can spy your whereabouts."

"What?" The vestige's eyes widened, before they began to look around anxious. I almost laughed at their alarm; their flurry of panic could almost be deemed as endearing. Could be, as in someone of a lesser stature with lower standards would deem them so. Regardless, their fear was enough to spread my grin from ear to ear as I leaned closer to the visage. "Is he watching right now?"

"Yes," I couldn't help but mewl to myself.

"Most likely not, so you can stop that sweating," Tharn said, curtly, and the vestige relaxed their tense shoulders at his reassurance. Part of me wished I hadn't deceived the chancellor, just so I could watch the vestige continue to tremble at the thought of me. "I'm unsure of the mechanics of it, but his visage apparently goes blank when you aren't in proximity to mundus stones. Avoid the mundus stones and you should be fine."

"Oh, okay..." The vestige looked off to the side, biting their lower lip. In a moment of oddity, I imagined them in front of me with that expression of nervousness, not in front of the chancellor. I pushed the thought away as quickly as it came.

Tharn exhaled, exasperated. "What is it?"

"He didn't, or uh you..." They cleared their throat, "I didn't do anything embarrassing that anyone saw, did I?"

Tharn looked physically fatigued by the question and I burst out into laughter. I wiped a tear from my eye, "Ha! Everything you do is embarrassing, vestige." How great it would be if they heard that.

"I'm going to ignore that you said anything," Tharn said. "Varen and I have work to do, but we will call for you when we need you."

"Right," The vestige affirmed, and I could practically feel their blush through the visage. As they turned to leave the harborage, I felt myself grinning in triumph despite the losses I fell that evening.

[vestige-nan]

The Thorn in my Side, the Pebble in my Shoe: Ch 7

Summary: The main quest line in Mannimarco’s perspective, except that he falls chaotically in love with the vestige just as much as he chaotically hates them. Fun stuff: We’re gonna get some insight into the vestige this chapter! As always, vestige is gender neutral and physical features are not described. 

I bit my lower lip as my fingers impatiently tapped on my table, my eyes unable to unglue themselves from the visage of the vestige and their troublesome band of wretches. I had managed to calm my anger enough to sit down, but with Tharn now siding with the vestige’s foolish lot, I didn’t know much Tharn pried behind my back and I didn’t know what he would disclose. And I hated not knowing.

To say the sorry group looked like a mess was an understatement. At the very least, each of them looked haunted after having escaped my castle. Tharn picked pieces of rotted corpse off his shoulders, Lyris pulled a section of an intestine out of her hair with a gag, and the vestige tried in vain to get a particularly putrid blood stain from their attire before giving up.

“My estates, my titles, my own life―it's all forfeit now. All in the name of preserving the Empire.” Tharn spoke. “I swear by all the gods, Mannimarco will pay dearly for this.”

My tapping stopped as my eyes narrowed with hatred. Preserving the Empire? He would have saved the Empire had he only stayed loyal.

The vestige turned to Tharn, an annoyingly kind look in their eyes. “Are you alright?”

“Of course. I am Abnur Tharn.” He picked one last rotted flesh piece from his shoulders before composed himself. “Now then, where were we?”

“You were going to tell us where Sai Sahan is.”

A pulse I might’ve not still had began to race and my hands came into fists. How much did Tharn figure out behind my back? I hated this anticipation.

Tharn cleared his throat. “Ah. Yes. Ahem. Truth be told, I don't know the precise location, but I do know that he is Mannimarco's prisoner, and that the King of Worms is trying to pry the location of the Amulet from him.”

I let out a breath and leaned back, before a chuckle escaped my lips. He knew nothing. He betrayed me for nothing.

The vestige looked speechless, and I might have enjoyed their incredulous look more than finding out Tharn had no conception of my plans. It seemed as though the vestige also went through that endeavor for nothings as well. “You don't know where he is?”

“Now, now, before you lose your temper, let me clarify.” Tharn said, straightening his back. “I don't know precisely where he is, but I can find out. I'll just need a little time.”

That statement made me lean forward again as I brought a hand to my chin, my brow furrowing. Was it another bluff to save himself? Or could he truly find Sai Sahan? That... would not do... Perhaps, he would reveal—

“What?” Before I could even finish my thought, the half-giant sneered, her hands cracking and forming into tight fists. She stalked over to Tharn, and in that moment I could see the imperial lose poise as her shadow cast over him. “You son of a bitch!”

I couldn’t contain my wild grin when she punched him so hard, he stumbled back. It seemed the half-giant was good for more than just slave labor at the Foundry. 

Abnur brought a hand to his face, wiping the blood from his lips as he stared at her with both fear and anger. “Gah! Are you insane? Get away from me, you brutish she-troll!” 

“Lyris! Stand down!” Varen tried to mediate.

Lyris’s eyes were venomous as she bared her teeth, “He's done nothing but lie to us from the beginning! I don't care what he says, he'll always be Mannimarco's toady!”

I cackled aloud, a hand coming to my eyes as I couldn’t contain my delight. These fools were so simple, they could not get along to save their own lives! They would sooner tear themselves apart at the seams than stop my plans! And how I would enjoy watching them tear at each other. The only reason they’ve lasted so long is because the vestige—

The vestige was walking away from the three? My confusion was quickly replaced with chagrin as I realized not only was my front row seat of seeing Tharn and Lyris kill each other taken from me, but also my ability to reveal crucial information about Tharn’s plan to find Sai Sahan.

“What the Oblivion are you doing?” I hissed, knowing my words couldn’t reach them and yet still demanding they return.

Unfortunately, the vestige did not listen to my demands, and instead stood next to the divine’s forsaken soul shriven that had traveled with them out of Coldharbour. 

The soul shriven was warming their hands next to an open flame, and had to be the most ridiculous looking soul shriven I had ever laid eyes on. A pot sat on his head as a helmet, a sheet on his chest as armor, and the most ludicrous, nonsensical pattern of speech spilled from his tongue. “I say, you do get into some wild adventures, don't you?”

I sneered. The way the soul shriven spoke was grating to my ears.

“You could say so.” The vestige began warming their hands as well.

“Quite the ruckus fair Lyris and the good chancellor are getting up to over there, which is quite surprising! I would assume they’d get along swimmingly!”

“Those two?” The vestige tilted their head in thought for a moment before saying, “No. Those two are like oil and water.”

“Oil and water? Why, I was certain they were flesh and blood! I suppose you can’t right judge a book by its cover, eh?”

The vestige laughed and I slapped my face, dragging my hand down my cheeks. Why was I wasting my time with this?

“I do say, they are getting quite rowdy; causing a kerfuffle in this quaint cave I am so enjoying.” The soul shriven said, “Whatever are they quarrelling for?”

“Something about Lyris’s friend being held captive by the king of something, or the amulet of something being important for some reason.” 

There are few things in the world that can baffle me to the degree that the vestige had. I had to close my agape mouth because of how absolutely bewildering they managed to confound me. It took me a breath before I could even formulate a coherent thought.

How could it be. That my greatest obstacle. Who has slain armies of undead and daedra. Paused the hand of the Daedric Prince of Domination. Saved Varen, Lyris, and Tharn. All of this. And thy Barely know what they’re fighting for.

It was maddening enough to tear their body apart bit by bit. I dreamed of sinking my fingers into their open chest and tearing their lungs and heart with my nails and carving my name into their bones and brain, so they could never refer to me as the “king of something” again. I would resurrect them so they could feel that pain for eternity, force their vocal cords to scream “King of Worms! King of Worms!” in a chorus of agony until Aetherius burned out. 

Sheogorath was scratching at my mind. I pushed the thoughts aside. 

“My, my, that certainly sounds like something important, indeed!” The soul shriven tilted his head, his milky white eyes glossing over the vestige. “Or somewhat of a something, that’s for certain.”

“You’re telling me.” The vestige said, as if the soul shriven made any semblance of sense whatsoever. 

“Where can we find this dear friend of the lady Lyris?” The pot bobbed on the soul shriven’s head, and he had to push it up from his eyes. “I love a good rescue mission; I would have you know. I’m quite good at them.”

“We think Mannimarco has him.” So, they knew my name but not my title? That would be rectified. “You might not have been there, but he was the pretty mer who kept raising skeletons to fight us.”

I did not think the vestige could shock me anymore than they already had. I was wrong. 

“Mannimarco? Yes, yes, I know him. Or I know of him, nasty fellow, always raising the dead. Not that I hate the undead or the like, they’re just awful to smell.” The words of the soul shriven were as sand to me. 

Pretty mer. 

My face curled in disgust. The disrespect alone for that comment would land the vestige in the deepest pits of Coldharbour until the stars burned out. To refer to me, the Lord of Necromancy, Master of the Worm Cult, Bane of Nirn, King of...

Pretty mer.

Well, they certainly weren’t wrong.

“Did you know he betrayed Varen? Poor old chum.” The soul shriven continued, “Pulled the wool right underneath his feet! Now we have all this nasty plane meld business.”

“Yeah, the prophet was saying something about that.” The vestige nodded their head. “I wasn’t paying too close attention... I’m pretty sure he killed me, though.”

What did they mean “pretty sure”?

Pretty mer. 

“Did he now? How sure are you? It’s quite important to get that right.”

The vestige shrugged, “That’s just what they tell me. I don’t remember anything before I lost my soul.”

My eyes widened. I leaned back slowly, allowing my mind to mull over this new piece of information. This conversation had been full of surprises, but this. This memory loss could be useful to me.

“You don’t? Well, that’s quite wonderful to hear, jolly ol’ chum!” 

The vestige raised a brow, “It is?”

“Yes, indeed! Because I happen to find myself in the very same predicament!” The soul shriven boasted. “Well, not including all of the soul deficiency piddle-paddle.”

The vestige smiled. “I guess we’re amnesia buddies, then.”

I groaned. I hated that this was the being that bested me.

“Quite so, quite so.”

“Vestige.” As if to end my agony, Aquilarios called to the vestige. Tharn and Lyris looked, unfortunately, not as if they killed each other, but there was no amity between them either. “Come. We have something to share with you.”

The vestige gave the soul shriven one last charming wink before making their way toward Aquilarios.

Charming? No. Errant.

Pretty mer. By the divines, I needed to push that from my mind.

[vestige-nan]

The Thorn in my Side, the Pebble in my Shoe: Ch 6

Summary: The main quest line in Mannimarco’s perspective, except that he falls chaotically in love with the vestige just as much as he chaotically hates them.

Fun stuff: As always, vestige is gender neutral and physical features are not described. Also, now we get to see where I got the title! Also also, I assumed it was this way for everyone who plays, but whenever I play ESO and NPCs join me to “help” fight, they’re usually useless and don’t help at all (unlike in Skyrim), so I translated that to the vestige is just so cool and good at fighting compared to everyone else.

I wasn’t disappointed. I was angry.

After raising Tharn above his station, after promising him the right hand of godhood, after taking him under my generous wing when I could have just as easily sent his unworthy, traitorous soul straight to Coldharbour, the mealy disloyal politician still sided with the divine’s forsaken vestige.

The very stupidity of such a thing! To side with a gullible, unintelligent fool over the greatest necromancer the world has ever known! The King of Worms, and future God of Schemes! Ruler of Oblivion and Nirn! And he chose the soulless corpse walking around who couldn’t pick an alliance!

How I wanted to tear the skin from their flesh and the flesh from their bone when I scryed Tharn projecting in front of the vestige, begging them for “asylum”. It was so pathetic I was glad to see him traitorous, and yet my rage remand. 

What was so special about this soulless fool of a being that they could steal Tharn from me? That Tharn would measure being the right hand of a god to a rebel on a losing side and pick the latter? So they had pulled a few capers here and there, that meant nothing! Tharn had seen my power and the vestige was able to take him from me anyway.

No matter. The vestige would try in vain to take a soul from Coldharbour, and this time they wouldn’t succeed. I would make sure of it. This time, I planned to be there to stop their foolish crusade. 

I felt a strange... thrum? Lilt? I’m not sure what it was—In my chest cavity. It would be my first time seeing the vestige in person, or more importantly the first time they would see me. Not including the time I killed them. Even just recognizing the fact caused the lilt in my thorax to return. 

Surely, I couldn’t be nervous! I had a plan in place in the off chance the vestige does best my undead army, so nervousness had no logical rationale. Then... perhaps it was excitement? Yes, certainly it was simply excitement to destroy an irritating obstacle. Excitement to prove to Tharn he made an error in evaluating my enemies. Excitement to show the vestige just how powerful and superior their adversary really is.

That last one invited the lilt back into my chest. I decidedly chose not to dwell on that any further. 

I watched the vestige carefully through my magical visage. I watched and I waited for the perfect moment to have my entrance: right when I could watch the hope build in Tharn’s eyes, just so I could take it from him when he believes he’s free.

I watched how compliant the vestige was as Aquilarios commanded they and the half-giant retrieve Tharn. I watched as they obediently followed Tharn’s unhelpful instruction without complaint. I watched as they eclipsed the half-giant completely in skill and ability, leveling my raised soldiers and cultists alike. I even watched them as they attempted a bit of necromancy.

A thought came to me as the vestige completely obliterated my useless regiment. The vestige... certainly wasn’t untalented. Foolish, dimwitted, and utterly beneath me, yes but not... untalented. I was reminded of their ambition I had pondered earlier. If I wasn’t planning on forcing them to drink their own blood, I might toy with the idea of enlisting them myself. That is, if they’re torture wasn’t even more tempting than their talent (which it was). (Greatly).

Ah, yes. The vestige had climbed to the top of the tower and made their way to Tharn. This would be the moment I interject. Though, ever precautious, it would only be as a projection. Nevertheless, my power, while only dulled slightly by my caution, would be enough to entrap Tharn, imprison Lyris, and take my leisurely time in crushing the pestering little vestige.

“So, we meet in person at last. You looked taller in your projection.“ Tharn quipped to the vestige.

“I’m here to get you out.” The vestige was slightly out of breath as they spoke, their weapon tightly gripped in their hand.

"And not a moment too soon. If I had to inspect one more bloody soul gem, I'd have thrown myself from the tower." Ah. Tharn would inspect every last soul gem I collect for the rest of eternity for his treason.

The vestige paused a moment, before looking to the half-giant. Their brow seemed to furrow as they turned back to the imperial. “Why should we trust you, Tharn?” So, they had at least modicum of sense.

"A fair question. I know things. Things that can help you—” 

Before the imperial could let his silver tongue loose, I banished Tharn in a flourish of dark magic. The vestige and the half-giant took a step back, and my voice rang out clear to instill fear into them.

"Now, now, Tharn. No telling my secrets." I mused, perfectly. And as the magic settled, my projection appeared, commanding in presence and regal in nature. “Go to your room, Abnur. I will deal with you shortly."

I turned to the half-giant, a smirk marking my features, "Ah, dear Lyris. Your old position at the Foundry is still available. We'll even give you your own set of unbreakable chains." I could see the way the half-giant’s resolve crumbled at the mere mention of her horrors, and her despair only fed my delight.

"And you.” Lastly, I turned toward the vestige. How different they looked when their attention was on me. The slight crease of their brow, their conviction tempered by trepidation. The way they gripped their weapon just a hair too tightly, their lips pursed as they swallowed, and their eyes—their eyes which I had never seen hold both curiosity and dread at once—quivered under my scrutiny. I could bask in their enthrallment to the end of time. “The thorn in my side. The pebble in my shoe. How strong are you? Shall we test your limits?”

At once, I rose my undead servants to battle, a horrible cacophony of chattering bones and black magic being raised by a gesture of my hands. The vestige had to tear their eyes from my projection, and the struggle they had doing so made me grin.

Unfortunately, my grin was quick to fall. The vestige was swift to act, and my first wave of undead servants didn’t stand a chance. Watching the vestige on the other side of a looking glass was one thing, but even seeing their capabilities as a projection was something else entirely. If it hadn’t frustrated me so much, I would say it was impressive.

I was quick to summon another onslaught. However, attack after attack didn’t seem to slow the vestige down. Even as Lyris, the half-giant, began to depreciate in strength, the vestige remained stubborn. I could feel my grip on my composure slipping, my nails digging into my palms and my teeth bearing against one another. As the last of my skeletons collapsed into dust at the hand of the vestige, my temper snapped.

"How infuriating! The process drains the energy from most victims, yet you keep fighting!" I snapped, and the vestige looked up at me with a maddening sort of accomplishment. I hadn’t meant my furious outburst to be taken as praise, but of course the soulless fool took it as such. I composed myself quickly, straightening my back and letting out a short, marked exhale. “Your strength surprises me. But how much more can you take, I wonder?”

That was right. I had all eternity to abolish the vestige’s strength, and no matter how accomplished or skillful they were, the vestige couldn’t keep this up forever. As the vestige recognized what I had, I could see the apprehension in their expression and, even better, in their attacks. I could drink their dismay, and I wanted to chase the pleasure I derived from it. 

In a torrent of sickly black magic mixed with bones and death, I conjured a horror that would surely disparage the vestige enough to force them to their knees in surrender. The size of a troll with ribs layered like armor, a monstrous bone colossus erupted from my craft.

To my disappointment, the vestige was not trembling with fear. They did not fall to their knees and beg for my mercy. No, instead of fear in their eyes, the vestige took one look at the bone colossus and their eyes lightened with... excitement. What should have struck terror into their soulless heart instead inspired challenge.

What was worse was that I seemed to be enjoying this just as much as they were. I hated to admit it, but I liked testing their limit; seeing how much they could measure up to my power. I wanted to try them further, to count how many of my servants they defeat and to see how long they would last. I wanted to craft the most appalling, gruesome, nightmare-inspiring, horrifying amalgamations and see which one makes them tear the air with their screams. I wanted them to fill my castle with the bodies of my own creations just so the satisfaction of their defeat would be so much more.

When the vestige met the finishing blow on the bone colossus, an excited thrill traveled up my spine. I was always the type to enjoy the hunt over the prize.

I rolled my shoulders back, let my tongue graze my teeth, and held up my hands to conjure something even more terror-inducing, when suddenly I was stopped.

"Mannimarco! You dare attack the chancellor of the Elder Council?" Tharn’s nasal tone tore my concentration, along with his effete magic. However, it was enough to stop me in my tracks. 

I felt a snarl curl my lips in disdain for the imperial as I cast a blast of magic towards the chancellor.

“His power wanes, Vestige! Strike him down, while his attentions are on me!" He called out.

I didn’t have a moment to reacted before my projection was shattered. Eyes wide and my magic slowly dissipating, I whipped my head to Tharn as he disappeared before my eyes, "How dare you betray me, Tharn? Your suffering will be legendary!"

As my projection and magic faded, I was alone again. Wrath filled my veins and boiled my blood until all I could see was red. I destroyed whatever work I had on my desk in front of me, slamming my fists on its surface and dragging them across the intricate soul gems and scrolls. 

“He will pay for his treachery!” I hissed aloud, and in a jerky, rage-filled movement, I conjured my scrying visage. 

The vestige, Lyris, and Tharn were escaping through the refuse chute. My mind was flitting through how I could drill regret and remorse into the traitorous imperial. Just as I was wildly grinning at the trio’s capture, the doors from the refuse chute being locked, a soul shriven out of nowhere teleported into the chute and offered them escape. 

My desk collapsed with a loud SNAP as my fist came down on its surface.

“You-!” My words felt like venom on my lips and my eyes burned with hatred as they drilled into the vestige’s body. “You vile, deplorable, soulless-!” With a wave of my hand, I shattered a random soulgem, scattering it into a thousand pieces simply because the act of destroying a life calmed me. However, this time it didn’t seem to calm me as much as I hoped. I whipped back toward the visage. 

“While Tharn will suffer a thousand lifetimes for his betrayal, you, dear vestige,” I spat. “The end of time could not stop your torture!”

[vestige-nan]

The Thorn in my Side, the Pebble in my Shoe: Ch 5

Summary: The main quest line in Mannimarco’s perspective, except that he falls chaotically in love with the vestige just as much as he chaotically hates them.

Fun stuff: As always, vestige is gender neutral and physical features are not described.

I did not trust Tharn, not for a single moment. With how quickly he knelt before me after I had betrayed the emperor, I would have had to have been as blind as Aquilarios to believe that Tharn wouldn’t stab my back the moment the imperial was out of my sight. However, that did not change the fact that Tharn was excellently decisive (after all, he made the decision to kneel to me instead of coddling loyalty to his pathetic emperor). His decisiveness proved useful at times, but now it was a liability. Tharn knew too much, and if he were to side with the vestige and Aquilarios, he would be an annoying enemy. 

I looked at the visage as I walked. I would need to plant misinformation on the off chance that Tharn betrays me. My greatest advantage would be my scrying visage. Perhaps it would be wise to underexaggerate my sight on the vestige.

The vestige...

I scoffed aloud. How quick they were to lie to Tharn, and how quick the dull imperial was to believe them. It was utterly annoying. This vestige was swiftly climbing the ranks of my list of important enemies. They seemed so insignificant and paltry when I scried on them, and yet they seemed to worm their way through Coldharbour, attempting to foil my plans... No motivation apparent other than the sake of accomplishment.

In the visage, the vestige was once again looking at the stars, just as they were when I first scried on them. Utter wonder and curiosity crossed their eyes as they scribbled down on a chart of stars. 

I hummed in thought for a moment. While the vestige was certainly annoying to deal with, they did hold a certain... ambition. It reminded me of myself or even Vanus—the avid fool—when we were in the psijic order. Driven only by conquest and achievement, gaining power and repute with each accomplishment. 

It was rather...

I shook my head. To compare this insignificant, unremarkable vestige to myself? Even my younger self? Utterly foolhardy. I must have spent too long watching the creature run around waving their weapon about aimlessly. 

I did not have my entourage with me as I burst the doors to Tharn’s chambers open. He startled at my entrance, closing a projection rather quickly as I entered. That certainly made me squint.

“By the divine, Mannimarco.” Tharn exhaled, coming down from his jump. “Don’t you ever send a missive or a messenger?”

“Not when I don’t want to.” I simply said. “Who were you talking to?”

“Our agent in the Iliac Bay.” The imperial said, without missing a beat. Even with my discernment, it was difficult to tell when he was lying. “Unfortunately, I deal with nothing but incompetence, as per usual.”

“Hmm.” My tone was curt. I rolled my shoulders back, holding my wrists behind my torso dignified. “The great master has requested my assistance elsewhere.”

“To Elsweyr?”

I almost smacked him. “No. Elsewhere, as in somewhere else.”

“Ah.” He responded. 

“Therefore, I wish to delegate some responsibilities to you...”

“If you wish me to take temporary command—”

“No.” I was barely able to keep from smiling, gaining immense pleasure from seeing the imperial’s expression drop ever so slightly with disappointment. “I believe it would be more prudent to have you perform an inspection of soul gems in the tower’s summit.”

Oh, how I enjoyed his frustration. How he knew he was too important and accomplished to be inspecting soul gems for eternity, but I assigned him to it anyway. Perhaps it was the feeling of dominion over someone so prominent, or perhaps I just liked ruining his day.

Regardless of the emotions crossing his face, he swallowed his pride and bowed ever so slightly, “As you command, King of Worms.” His words were dry. As he lifted his head, his brow furrowed at the sight of my visage. “Had you meant your scrying glass to be empty?”

I did not let Tharn see any glee on my features as I turned to it. I hadn’t known how to draw attention to the “empty” visage without raising the imperial’s suspicions. “Ah. It is an... unfortunate handicap of my scrying.” I lied, “It seems as though I can only scry on the vestige when they are in close proximity to mundus stones.”

“How inconvenient.”

I curled my lip in faux annoyance. “Quite.” I rolled my shoulders back and continued. “Nevertheless. Aquilarios and this vestige can hide from my sight all they wish. Soon enough, the amulet of kings will be in my grasp.”

“Has Sai Sahan broken already?” 

That comment actually made me annoyed. “No. But he will soon enough. And if not I will just have to—” I stopped myself before I revealed any more of my plans. I cleared my throat. “Be thorough in your inspection, Tharn. I will make sure you have proper protection.” And by protection, I meant wardens.

“How uncharacteristically kind.” Tharn said, sarcastically.

“Do not mistake precaution for kindness.” I said, and then I paused. Perhaps I could still persuade Tharn to loyalty. He did have a certain value that others did not. I may have taken precautions, but there was a reason I hadn’t killed him out of suspicion. “You do understand what it will mean if I am able to possess the Amulet of Kings?”

“I imagine Nirn will become a bit colder and a bit more harbor-like.”

I rolled my eyes, “Yes, but do you know what it will mean for you if I get the Amulet of Kings.”

Tharn’s brow furrowed, “I’m not sure what you mean.”

“You can become the right hand of a god.”

“Molag Bal? But what about—“ The imperial’s eyes widened as he put two and two together. At his realization, a smile began to creep on my face. “Oh. I see.”

I turned, waving my hand nonchalantly as if I was talking about something as inconsequential as the weather. “The Amulet of Kings is capable of unlimited possibilities. Just something to ponder.”

With that seed of ambition planted in his mind, I left Tharn. As to whether he truly would be my right hand when I ascend to godhood was up for debate. Tharn was brilliant, but still so utterly...mortal. However, I still might raise him above his station on a whim, as long as he proves himself worthy. 

Once I was out of eyesight of the imperial, the image of the vestige appeared back on my scrying glass. I stopped as I looked at the glass.

The vestige looked... irritated.

I couldn’t help the smile that tugged at my lips. I had yet to see the vestige cross, even when their affairs didn’t go as planned. It was extremely amusing to see their face scrunch up in annoyance, their arms fold in a huff, and their exaggerated exhale as a shrill breton woman complained loudly at them. 

“I told you; I need my alchemy equipment to create the potion!” The breton woman was tapping her foot, impatiently.

“Uhm. No,” The vestige said, their tone short. “You didn’t tell me that.”

“Oh. Well, Stibbons would have known that without me saying anything.”

The vestige held the bridge of their nose and grumbled unseemly something under their breath. I laughed at their ire.

“My equipment is in that goblin den next to the gargoyle.” The breton woman continued, before she looked affronted by the vestige’s angered expression. “What?! I didn’t put it there!”

The vestige ground their teeth before scratching their head, frustratedly, and then turning with a huff toward a pack of goblins.

I laughed again, a hand coming to my lips as my eyes brightened with glee. It really was the simple things that brought me joy: my enemy's pain was my pleasure. “Not every quest is so pleasant and rewarding, now, is it?” I said to the scrying glass. 

“Mannimarco?” I jumped at Tharn’s voice. He peered past the doors of his quarters, an eyebrow raised in confusion. “You haven’t left yet?”

I could feel my face burn bright orange and thanked the gods that the lighting in Coldharbour was too dim to see it, but by the divines did I feel foolish for a moment. I had stopped not fifteen feet from Tharn’s room. Why didn’t I just turn a corner?!

I had to subdue a darker part of me that was screaming to kill Abnur just to avoid the embarrassment.

I turned abruptly, calling back, “I was sending an important missive!”

[vestige-nan]

The Thorn in my Side, the Pebble in my Shoe: Ch 4

Summary: The main quest line in Mannimarco’s perspective, except that he falls chaotically in love with the vestige just as much as he chaotically hates them.

Fun stuff: As always, vestige is gender neutral and physical features are not described.

There was seldom a moment when I was not watching the vestige. I kept the magical visage up at all times, even as I was giving orders to my faithful followers or conjuring up beasts. The visage stayed ever present, off to the side where I could keep a watchful eye. 

Nothing the vestige would do would sneak passed me.

As expected, the vestige was not particularly extraordinary. In fact, if I had not expected it, I would have been disappointed. They would run around, playing hero for anybody who let out a pitiful plea for help, which happened to be almost every living (or dead, on occasion) being they passed. 

I was a touch surprised to find that so many people, some of whom were great leaders of nations and armies, seemed to trust the vestige explicitly and inanely. Your entire kingdom is doomed to peril, and you’re going to put your trust in an unkempt, vapid stranger who just grabbed a torchbug with their bare fist? It was no wonder that I was able to delude Aquilarios so easily if this was Tamriel’s finest.

It is a strange thing, the insanity that comes from watching someone so asinine during every waking moment. Part of me wished I could not only see the vestige’s actions, but their mind as well, simply so I could understand the apparent lack of reason behind their actions. At first, I believed the vestige’s motivations lied with gaining victory for their silly war. That was, until I saw them under a completely different alliance’s colors. 

In fact, it did not matter what alliance called, what race or religion or even what sense of morality a being had, the vestige always offered to play the role of the hero. You could be a holy priestess of Mara or the long dead sinister spirits of the Akavir, it didn’t matter to them. 

It truly seemed as if their only motivation was to... help. And to grab filthy weeds off the ground. 

I found myself groaning in vexation at the many instances of stupidity from the vestige. Trusting those who obviously held ill intentions, choosing to run from enemies easily vanquishable, offering sympathy to those who didn’t deserve it; they must have had some divine or daedric prince guarding them from their own fatuity.

Had I not seen the vestige in the throes of battle in Coldharbour, I surely would have assumed they were completely witless and destroyed the soulgem by now. And if not for that reason, then for the sake my own sanity. 

My patience was superior, however, as the voice of Aquilarios echoed from the visage.

"Ah, there you are Vestige. Come to the Harborage. We must speak."

I immediately whipped my head toward the visage. A projection of Aquilarios was standing in front of a slightly surprised vestige. Just the relief that my torture hadn’t been for nothing was enough to make me laugh aloud. 

“...Uh, King of Worms?” Two cultists had been in the middle of reporting to me when Aquilarios appeared before the vestige. 

I waved them off, not even looking toward the two, my attention captivated by the surveillance crafted by my own genius. “Dismissed.” I simply said.

The cultists, wise for doing so, didn’t question me and left without a word. 

I brought the visage to a chair as I sat down and crossed my legs, a hand coming to my chin in thought. “To the Harborage?” I spoke to myself, a smile creeping its way onto my features. “Is this where you have been hiding, Aquilarios?” 

Indeed, like a loyal pet coming to their master’s call, the vestige made straight away to this “Harborage”. The Harborage was a degraded, wretched place, but unassuming in nature, and therefore a clever hiding place. However, not clever enough to keep from me. 

When the vestige came to the imperial’s side, Aquilarios was the first to speak. “Good, good. You are safe. Good fortune did not abandon us entirely.”

I couldn’t resist commenting idly to myself. “I wouldn’t say that, just yet.”

“Is something wrong, Prophet?“ The vestige asked, and I rolled my eyes at the naivety of it. How easily they were fooled into believing Aquilarios was anything other than a blind old man.

... Perhaps they could be fooled into fulfilling my machinations?

I shook the thought from me. I could barely stand watching the vestige fumble around playing hero, having to entertain their whimsy firsthand would elicit me becoming a follower of Sheogorath. 

The “Prophet” sent the vestige on a wild guar chase after one of my faithful cultists in a vain attempt to find the location of Sai Sahan. The very prospect made me laugh. They truly had nothing! The vestige and Aquilarios may have somehow been able to free the half-giant from Coldharbour, but that was a spout of luck! 

My suspicions were simply paranoia. Aquilarios sacrificed his sight for clairvoyance in vain, Titanborn was chasing after every shadow that would lead her to no where, and the vestige! The daft, foolish vestige-

Had just killed my agent. 

“How-?” I groaned in annoyance, rubbing at a piercing headache. “No matter. He wasn’t important, anyway.”

The vestige, despite accomplishing nothing of importance, poked their nosey head around anyway, looking at the notes and magical items left behind by my agent. As if I would share exclusive information to someone so low.

“Hmm, what’s this?” They said, holding my agent’s orb of discourse.

I could only stare agape in awe that of all the useless trinkets and trifles, the vestige just happened to pick up the one thing they might use to their advantage.

In a flash of light, Abnur Tharn’s projection beamed out of the orb. 

“What is the meaning of this interruption? Why have you contacted me?“

The vestige looked just as surprised as I was over their luck.

Tharn looked annoyed at their lack of response. “This had better be important. Wait a moment. I don't know your face. Identify yourself, immediately!"

“Who, me?”

By the eight, they were stupid.

“Yes, your report, you insipid twit. What, did you contact me by accident?”

There was a blink of a moment where thoughts quickly flitted across the vestige’s eyes, so quick one could almost miss it. And then, with the craft of master maskmaker, the vestige did not miss a single beat more.

“Forgive me, my Lord, but I heard something that might be of interest to you.“

I was stunned, outraged, and impressed all at once. Once again, the vestige had managed to supersede estimations, and I was left with a similar feeling I had when I saw the vestige freeing Titanborn. Fascination and visceral, burning rage.

My rage was fanned like a flame when Tharn was too dimwitted to catch the vestige’s lie, or even to recognize them for that matter. “Well, out with it. I don't have all day. Your disguise is terrible, by the way. You look like a character from a bad adventure novel."

I wanted to slit his throat.

“Someone has been asking the locals about a Redguard named Sai Sahan.” The vestige lied, and I wanted to slit their throat too, and I hated how I found their lie a little bit clever.

“Are they? I didn't think that redguard has-been had a single friend left. Never fear. Sai Sahan is safely locked away. Even if they were to discover his location, attempting a rescue would be suicidal." 

Before I could slap my face in dismay over Tharn’s stupidity, I paused. How did Tharn know anything about the redguard’s whereabouts? He should be as clueless as the vestige.

“Do you know where he is?” The vestige asked, and I couldn’t help but wonder the same question.

“Of course, I do. But I'm not in the habit of revealing vital secrets to insipid lackeys. Now, be gone! And if you contact me again without good reason I shall contact your cell commander and have you properly thrashed for your ineptitude."

“Thank you, my Lord.” And with that, the projection was gone.

This was quite interesting, indeed. I had an inkling that Tharn wasn’t to be trusted, but it seems as though he’s been gathering information behind my back. Perhaps I should subtly feed him a few lies, since he apparently is so susceptible to them.

I watched thoughtfully as the vestige went on their merry way, back to Aquilarios to report their adventure. A sinister smile tugged at my lips. They had been of use to me today, and they hadn’t realized it. This subtle advantage, however tedious, was beginning to grow on me.

[vestige-nan]

The Thorn in my Side, the Pebble in my Shoe: Ch 3

Summary: The main quest line in Mannimarco’s perspective, except that he falls chaotically in love with the vestige just as much as he chaotically hates them.

Fun stuff: Wow this chapters twice as long as normal! As per custom, vestige is gender neutral and physical features are not described.

Throughout the many errands the lord of schemes demanded of me, the tedious process of delegation among those I command, and my own personal research, I would periodically apparate my magical visage that showed me  Aquilarios’s vestige. 

It was never a serpentine affair. With a simple wave of my hand and a puff of smoke, I would check to see if the vestige was doing something relevant, and they never were. Just as quickly as the magic was there, I dissipated it from my sight. 

I had begun to wonder if this vestige was of any real import to Aquilarios or the plane meld at all. 

Or, perhaps, it would’ve been wise to delegate this task to someone lower than my station. Someone like Tharn.

The vestige’s activities, from the small amount that I had gleamed, consisted of solving petty banner war conflicts, exacting paltry defiance against lesser daedric princes, and picking up miscellaneous loose weeds off of the ground. Needless to say, it would have been pitiful if it hadn’t been a complete and utter waste of my time.

There was, however, one instance that caused me to pause as I pulled up the visage. 

The vestige was in some kind of dwarven ruin, a pair of what I assumed were dunmer siblings behind them. The vestige was looking thoughtfully at a dwemer trap set to trigger if an intricate artifact was removed.

“Well?” The dunmer girl questioned, rather impatient, “Do you know how to disable the trap or not?”

“Give me a moment...” The vestige replied.

“I’m telling you,” The dunmer boy groaned, impatiently, “I looked at the puzzle for hours! It can’t be solved.”

I looked closer at the puzzle. It couldn’t be too difficult, not for someone with my expertise and cunning. If one were able to unlatch the levers and configurate the clasps... I would just need a moment or two to-

“I solved the puzzle.” The vestige said, and their resolution made both me and the dunmer siblings drop our jaws.

“What?!” The boy exclaimed.

“Finally!” The girl groaned in relief.

How?! Even I needed a moment or more to solve the puzzle! Perhaps it was because the vestige was closer than I was and had more-

The vestige grabbed the artifact so swiftly that I didn’t even have the chance to see their deft hands before they were sprinting in the other direction, the contraption imploding on itself before revealing a legion of dwarven spheres and spiders. The dunmer siblings barely missed a beat before they were chasing after the vestige in a pathetic flurry.

I groaned, waving the visage away. The stupidity of it all had given me an agonizing headache. This was what dared to claim rivalry? To me? It was laughable, if not downright offensive. I would have shattered the soulgem out of spite if I hadn’t wanted to put Tharn through the same torture I had to go through.

When I had the opportunity to meet with Tharn again, I made sure to bring up his new responsibility with befitting decorum after we had discussed points of interest with the plane meld.

“And one last bit of business.” I apparated the vestige’s soulgem out of thin air.

“Oh, goodie.” Sarcasm dripped from the imperial’s tongue, which I graciously ignored.

“I have decided you would be most fitting to keep a watchful eye on the vestige, in the unlikely case that they pose any real threat to the plane meld.”

“Had you grown tired of it already, Mannimarco?” He asked, “I must admit, you lasted longer than I expected.”

My graciousness had its limits. “Keep that tongue of yours in check, chancellor, or I will separate you from it.”

“Forgive me,” He said, half-heartedly. “Now, would you mind showing me the spell you use to spy on this vestige?”

I felt my lip curl in annoyance over his nonchalance. Every passing day and I grew more impatient with the grating sarcasm and complaints he spout. My only balm was the question of whether he would continue his whining when he was kneeling before a god? I waved my hand, materializing the visage. Then, I tossed the soulgem to Tharn, casually.

“It’s child’s play, truly.” I said, as I gestured vaguely to the visage. “It’s a matter of focusing arcane energy on-”

“Does that place look familiar?” 

I wanted to snap the chancellor’s neck for interrupting me, only to resurrect his body so I could do it again. Instead, with no modicum of self-control, I spat, “What?”

The chancellor pointed to the visage, “There, where the vestige is. Doesn’t that look familiar?”

“What nonsense are you-!” I looked at the visage. That place was indeed familiar. The vestige was in Cold Harbour. “What?! What is the vestige doing in Cold Harbour?!”

“Ah. And there is Titanborn.” Tharn remarked, casually. “I think I’ve found your answer.”

I snatched the soulgem from his fingers, gripping it tightly as my eyes burned at the visage in front of me. “This doesn’t make any sense! I watched the vestige carefully; they’ve been doing nothing but playing war with the divines forsaken whatever alliance they’re in!”

“They don’t seem to be “playing war” now.”

I snapped my head to Tharn. “Don’t just stand there making sly commentary! Call for daedra! Undead! Do literally anything other than stand there like an oaf!”

Tharn sighed, before he gave a mock bow, “Your wish is my command, King of Worms.”

I ignored the urge to set his decrepit body aflame and turned my rage back to the visage as the chancellor left the room. My mind reeled with questions as I watched the vestige (rather impressively, though I would not admit it) conduct themselves in battle. The half-giant was useless in the fight, having her very character and bravery stripped from her body, but the vestige? The vestige deftly manuevered around apparitions and manifestations, attacking with precision and skill that I had not seen from them before.

“How... How infuriating!” I could not help but remark aloud, my teeth grinding against one another as I felt the soulgem split my skin ever so slightly underneath the pressure I was gripping it with. “Annoying, pesterous little...”

As the vestige dealt the killing blow on the half-giant’s manifestation of terror, Titanborn visible relaxed and the vestige smiled a wide, bright smile. The kind of smile that made me want to pull out every last one of their teeth so I wouldn’t have to look at it again. The two exchanged sickeningly congratulatory words of encouragement, before leaving through a portal together, untouched by the troops Tharn was too slow to summon. 

“You must think you’re so very clever.” I hissed, more to myself than to the fool of a vestige who couldn’t hear me. “Playing your little games and fighting your little war, only to sneak into Cold Harbour when I wasn’t looking... You won’t mislead me again.”

No, I would keep a close eye on them. Moreso then before, I would keep a steady eye on them. The frustrating foolish vestige may have freed the half-giant, but I knew who the half-giant was desperate to get her boorish hands on. I chuckled to myself as I thought of the torture I was putting the redguard through, but my glee ended when I remembered that the half-giant was freed.

And the lord of domination was not going to be happy about losing another willful soul.