#way before Nerevar met Voryn

[garzzum]

Nerevar and Alandro Sul (and Voryn)

[whitegoldtower]

Better idea for my Nerevarine.

Name: Balaarys Marethi

Age: Appears around 35

Appearance: pre-op but post T ftm Dunmer. Quite muscly. Long, white hair and black eyes - those who sent him to Morrowind could spot him as the Nerevarine a mile off because of the white hair and black eyes; he doesn’t look like a regular dunmer, and looks more like a chimer. That, and him being FTM hints STRONGLY at Azura’s influence (being the Prince of Dawn and Dusk, and - by extension - transition.) They took one look at him and went “yeah, it’s this one, there’s no questioning it.” Then kidnapped him from Solstheim and stuck him on a boat.

Backstory: He was living quite happily as a farmer of ash yams in Solstheim until he was torn away from his life and put on that boat to Morrowind. He was a worshipper of Azura, and for all intents and purposes, was a normal guy, aside from this deep yearning in his heart that he couldn’t quite place. Whether a yearning for a person, or a thing, or a place, he wasn’t sure. Only dreams of a touch like sunlight, and a breath of fresh air, a blood red setting sun, and the occasional sensation of jet black hair sweeping over his skin, smelling like fire. Balaarys was a romantic at heart, and mused on these dreams through song as he worked, singing quietly; in this AU, he wrote the song “Black is the Colour of my True Love’s Hair” by Nina Simone. - I’d consider this song his theme song ngl. He’d hum the tune quietly to himself whilst farming, or on the boat to Morrowind, or absently when he’s concentrating on a task; he’s haunted by this song. He doesn’t know the words, just the melody, but every so often he will try to find the words (he doesn’t succeed - it’s not time for him to know them yet).

He later learns who he really is - Nerevar. And because he’s a smart lil guy, the pieces fall into place; the song he’s haunted by, the dream he thought he concocted, he knows who that really is: Voryn Dagoth.

Voryn Dagoth might have been the ‘true’ Nerevar’s secret lover, but those feelings were amplified in his reincarnation to Balaarys; one might even now consider Voryn Dagoth to be Balaarys’ soulmate. Which is an absolutely crushing revelation to Balaarys.

Balaarys is being asked, essentially, to kill his dreams. So my playthrough of Morrowind is just a very tragic love story.

Of course, Balaarys goes through with it, and faces an extremely difficult task; there is no way to save or redeem Dagoth Ur, because as soon as he severs the heart, Voryn Dagoth will die.

Of everyone he’s ever met, when he meets Dagoth Ur, to make it even more painful, he’s never been spoken to so lovingly. For someone who’s supposed to be this horrific villain, Dagoth Ur offers him mercy, to let him go free, tells him they don’t have to fight, tempts him to join him, calls him ‘moon and star’.

On top of that, the parts of Nerevar’s fragmented memories of Voryn Dagoth that Balaarys holds dear are shocked by the reality of what Voryn Dagoth looks like now. If it wasn’t enough to have Balaarys’ dreams shattered, he’s now faced with what that dream has become. The monster it has warped into.

Furthermore, despite his corprus being ‘cured’, he knows this isn’t truly the case, and that sooner or later, the negative effects will come back, like a cancer, worse and more malignant. He knows it will eventually kill him. He knows he’s living on borrowed time, and wants to live as Balaarys instead of just a reincarnation of Nerevar as much as he can before that time runs out.

So after severing the heart, he can’t bring himself to just leave. In response to being earlier called ‘moon and star’ by Dagoth Ur, he does what Nerevar never did, and names him ‘sun and sky’, and stays by his side as he dies. He removes Voryn Dagoth’s mask and kisses whatever monstrosity is underneath it. He’s sick and dying anyway, so what does it matter, right?

This completely hardens his heart.

Balaarys doesn’t care for Almalexia. Nor Vivec. Nor Sotha Sil. He kills the tribunal with no regrets, trying to ‘wipe’ Nerevar from his system because he’s sick of the story. Or rather, he wants to be Balaarys, not Nerevar. Once that’s done, he forsakes Azura.

As a result, his hair turns black, and his eyes turn red. He’s completely gotten rid of anything ‘Nerevarine’ about himself, aside from the memories of Voryn Dagoth, which he keeps tucked away safe in a corner of his heart.

Balaarys, then, follows the refugees to Skyrim, looking no different to an ordinary dunmer. The only thing that seems to make people question it, now, is the way he sings the lyrics to the song he used to hum, having finally found the words. He sings with such an aching weight that people can’t help but listen. And after he’s sung, he moves on to the next town, forever wandering. Sure, he got Nerevar out of his system, but he also now has no idea who ‘Balaarys’ actually is, and he’s too old to start trying to figure it out. He has no sense of identity, no sense of purpose.

He becomes a piece of folklore in Skyrim; sometimes, out on the roads late at night, a heart-wrenching song can be heard, carried on the wind. A song about a man, and his black-haired lover. Some say the singer is a ghost whose lover was killed. Some, albeit few, know the real story.

As Balaarys grows older and his corprus comes back, he slowly forgets the lyrics, and returns to humming, still wandering, slowly going mad. He starts to look more and more zombie-like, no longer the muscular, white haired Nerevarine, but an emaciated, frail dunmer.

Then, in Skyrim, years later, when the Dragonborn arrives, his skeleton can be found in the tundra between Winterhold and Dawnstar, along with his journal, telling the story of the Nerevarine from his point of view.

If you made it this far, I hope you enjoyed the angst.

Also, this song is the theme for later on, when he’s in Skyrim. If it was a film, this would be the end credits. ✌🏻

[trickstarbrave]

My mind is going give me a second

Omegaverse nerevoryn but Nerevar didn’t end up going to Kogoruhn as a child. Survivors from his village instead went south, where a ra’athim noble saw Nerevar and forced Nelvon (Nerevar’s uncle) to sell him into slavery.

Nerevar is from a young age forced to help work plantations and guard food supplies (chained to the inside of the warehouse). Until he presents as an omega, after which they try and auction him off. Omega slaves are actually pretty rare and fetch for a good price. The problem is he’s an aggressive omega and most bidders either think his scent isn’t very appealing or he’s too aggressive for their tastes.

Until house Dres decides it would be funny to ship him up north to Kogoruhn. Their heir is around the age he’ll start looking for a mate and concubines. Nerevar is seemingly a very attractive omega in the surface: handsome face, toned body, pretty features, but he’s got nord blood and a nasty temperament and swears and spits at all alphas. However if they just outright kill him or ship him back house dres can hang that over their heads as them “rejecting” such a kind gift they sent the heir of house dagoth

Nerevar is delivered in a cart after trying to escape multiple times. He’s heard of house dagoth: they’re cruel, insular, and hate outsiders. Strong Mephala worshippers, they’ll no doubt find a covert way to kill him after house dres gives up. That or they’ll use him as a slave in more horrific ways—or what if they sell him to the terrifying Dwemer they’re close to? Or worse: they intend to break him slowly and surely and just use him as a breeding slave. He doesn’t wanna fucking go. Along with him are other very obvious gifts: fine clothes and jewelry, bug musk, and some supplies.

By all means it looks like a peace offering, but house Dagoth isn’t buying it. By the time Nerevar makes it up there he’s almost due for his heat and he wants to get away but they keep him pretty tightly locked up. There is no disguise that falters and Nerevar has no hidden weapons but they’re cautious. But fine, just to follow procedure and to get the house dres members waiting there they take Nerevar’s shirt when he goes into heat to offer it to Voryn. Voryn takes it, inhaling the scent softly, equally disgusted at even humoring the idea of sleeping with a random slave he’d never met let alone one sent by house dres—

And then he goes almost ballistic, practically fighting his way to Nerevar’s room. He needs to mate with that omega, immediately. His reaction is extreme and they force Voryn back into his room saying they’ll bring the omega to him they just need to coax him out and get him ready. And it works for a bit but also they’re wondering what the fuck happened?? Just before this Voryn was disgusted and refusing to even try his scent and now he wants to mate so strongly he’s practically feral??? That didn’t seem to be house dres’ plan. They instead seemed to enjoy how uncomfortable house dagoth was at the prospect of being responsible for Nerevar now.

And then a healer realizes. Fuck. They might be fated mates. Only way to tell if this is a trick or not is to cast dispel on Nerevar and then offer him one of Voryn’s robes as he’s gone into a full rut very quickly.

Nerevar avoids doing so. He’s smelled alphas in rut before and the scents range from mildly off putting to revolting. He stays on the far end of the room, not even given enough pillows and blankets to nest properly, before the scent in the air is making his head fuzzy and he can’t help but crawl over to it and breathe it in deeply, burying his face in the fabric. It’s warm and spicy and slightly floral and perfect. Absolutely the most addictive thing Nerevar’s ever smelled and he starts whining and whimpering inside his room and then feeling even more freaked out because what the fuck was happening to him???

Hearing that he is having a reaction though they drag him out (robe in hand) to Voryn’s room after putting a seal to prevent pregnancy on him.

Nerevar is freaked out at first, alone with an alpha he doesn’t recognize, scared shitless, but Voryn coaxes him to the bed and starts making a nest for him and scenting him, brushing his hair and dressing Nerevar in his clothes. Nerevar wants to be paranoid and freaked out but it’s. So nice. It’s so nice and warm and he smells like Voryn and Voryn is rubbing his scalp and holding him so he feels safe. They don’t fuck right away bc Voryn makes sure Nerevar is nice and comfortable. This is his mate, he knows it, he can feel it, but he wants neht to be as comfortable as possible and to learn more about him.

The first two days they just talk. They eat and sleep and bathe together and talk. Nerevar quickly feels like he’s known Voryn his whole life. He shouldn’t, but he does, and he can’t bring himself to leave Voryn’s side or even seriously consider trying to escape.

And then after the first two days they start going at it like rabbits. The first time Voryn knots Nerevar he knows he never wants anyone but Nerevar. He whispers into Nerevar’s neck that he’ll be such a good alpha for him, he’ll take good care of Nerevar. Nerevar will get to do whatever he wishes so long as he stays as Voryn’s mate. He can fight, he can learn magic, he can lounge around Kogoruhn, whatever he wishes, Voryn will provide for him. And then he bites and claims Nerevar

House dres tries to exploit the situation saying they deserve compensation for bringing their heir his fated mate but house dagoth kicks them out saying Nerevar was, as they said countless times, a gift.

Nerevar still hates house dres once his heat is over and is very weary of everyone else in house Dagoth for a bit but Voryn is true to his word. He teaches Nerevar to read. Let’s Nerevar learn how to fight and train his body, and also takes good care of Nerevar while Nerevar low key plans his revenge

[wellthebardsdead]

Vivienne: *only a couple months pregnant and sitting beside voryn during a council meeting headed by the 6th house while Nerevar is attending other duties, wanting in some way to be useful or helpful instead of lounging in his bed all day*

Voryn: *listening intently while sewing a quilt for the baby, looking as though his mind is elsewhere*

Councilman: It’s bad enough nerevars consort is shafting the duties forwarded to him by the Hortator but he’s allowed the pregnant temple whore t-

Voryn: *snaps the needle from the thread and flicks it in one elegant motion right into the councillors forehead with the force of a bullet out of a gun*

Councilman: *stands there stunned for a moment before going limp and hitting the floor dead, the now bloodied needle lodged in the wall behind him*

Voryn: Mock me as Nerevars mere consort all you wish, councillors. But insults to our dear poet will be met with swift, and severe punishment.

Vivienne: … *looks down at the body* … *continues sorting papers*

[thana-topsy]

8/10 for voryn/almalexia?

So, I ended up outsourcing this one by apparently mentioning it off-hand to the exact right person at the exact right time. @yesjejunus , a far more skilled denizen of the First Council Fandom than I, cracked his knuckles and got to work, so many thanks to him for providing us with such tasty food. (He gave me permission to share by way of answering this ask).

Thank you, anon!

---

Almalexia x Voryn "A kiss in secret." (648 words) by @yesjejunus

Sunshine kissed the hem of Dagoth Voryn’s robes as he stood tucked away in the alcove of the courtyard, just beyond the sight of Lord Nerevar and Alandro Sul. He watched as they danced, swords in hand, jeering at each other in good nature as they sparred. They flowed around each other as gracefully as oil and water, blades coming wickedly close to crossing tender golden flesh, but never quite joining. Voryn’s red lips wore a smile so small and compact that it could have been mistaken for a grimace. Nerevar couldn’t see him from this angle.

He can never see him.

The fine hairs on the back of Voryn’s neck bristled and he sensed a presence behind him. Impossible, as the carved stone would surely have given away anyone who dared to approach. He turned and met Indoril Ayem eye to eye; her toes dangled inches above the ground, and she was staring knowingly at him. Voryn turned back to the courtyard with a snort.

“You could go out there and spar with them, you know. Instead of standing here, doing your best impression of a statue,” she said, coming to float beside him. Voryn ignored her—he’d long learned that the only way to win her power games was not to play them at all. He kept his crimson eyes trained on Nerevar as he dodged yet another of Alandro Sul’s attacks, his sweat slicked skin shimmering in the sunlight. Ayem floated closer to him, so close that Voryn was forced to acknowledge her, and he glanced down. She was dressed as she usually was, her breasts concealed with little more than gauzy strips of green fabric that fluttered in the breeze as she continued to levitate beside him. He flicked his eyes back up to hers and made a show of turning away.

“I’ve no mind for games today,” he said dismissively as he waved his long fingers in her face. He only narrowly avoided catching her cheekbone with the tip of one his lacquered nails. He was halfway through the turn when Ayem seized that hand and slammed it against the wall before blocking him in and trapping the rest of his body between her own and the cool stones.

She was smaller than him, and though she was one of the most capable warriors in all of Resdaynian history, Voryn could have easily pushed her away. He did not. Instead, he let his mouth curve into a true smile as he stared back at her blazing golden eyes, satisfied that she’d taken the bait. Though her eyes remained fiery, she smiled back at him, and they were fully enmeshed in the game, in the strange dance they’d been locked in for decades now. Just beyond the periphery of what Lord Nerevar could see.

Ayem’s lips were close to Voryn’s, mere centimeters away. Waiting. Challenging. Theirs had been a war of attrition, continually pushing and pulling to see who would submit first. Neither could say which of them was the first to begin this strange tryst all those years ago, but neither side showed any sign of ceding victory.

Voryn leaned forward, his red lips achingly close to hers, so much so that he could feel

her breath on them, and he paused, listening intently. From the courtyard came the sounds of Nerevar breathing heavily, grunting with each heavily planted footstep as he continued dueling. His senses were so electrified that he could hear Nerevar’s sidesteps in the grass with each parry. Each thrust.

Ayem’s mouth crushed down on his as her hands fisted in his hair, dragging him closer, and Voryn returned the kiss with fervor, savoring the lips that had known Nerevar’s countless times, had surely explored every inch of his radiant body, each curve of muscle, every tattoo, every scar. He could practically taste him on her.

Today, he had won.

[aladaylessecondblog]

Fallen Star pt. 8

Author's Note: The chapter was running a bit long and still wasn't done so I cut it in half because I had to be up early this morning.

-----------------------

The lips of the mask were cold, and when Voryn pulled back, the chill remained on her skin.

"Apologies," he said, "In dreams, I never take it off."

"It's fine," Sadara replied. She looked up and realized they were now no longer indoors, but outside and under the stars. A garden, perhaps, or a courtyard. "I suppose I must have been here, once, but the garden I do not remember."

In the back of her mind, that fear of forgetting reappeared. She took Voryn's arm when he gestured, and he lead her further out. The crowd of people began to thin as they walked, and the ordered courtyard of a garden began to look less arranged and more natural.

"There's no need to worry about that now," Voryn said, "Don't let the state of the sleepers fool you that way. Those who ascend in my service prefer not to remember what came before."

"I know, I spoke to Ulen. Is it true, the tale he told me? That his daughter was murdered, and...that's how he came to you?"

"Indeed it is, because I saw the memories as they were erased. His daughter fought her captors bravely, and they were all the more cruel in their killing of her as a result. He found her at a point far past death, far beyond any hope of healing and his grief...it consumed him. He turned to skooma and then to drink and it was only then that I reached him. He asked only the erasure of the cruelty he witnessed in return for his service. He was left only with the knowledge that she was murdered by those bandits, and the sight of her body burning on its funeral pyre. No children have come to the Sixth House yet, but he has asked, if he may, to be a part of guiding them if they do. Even though he has forgotten the source of the pain, its echo remains."

"But all your followers...do all of them forget their lives?" Closer now, to the question she actually wanted to ask.

"It is often easier for them that way."

"Even before they have...committed to the cause?" Sadara took a deep breath. "Because...I've noticed myself forgetting things. I'm not accusing you of doing it intentionally, but...I wonder if it is a side-effect of the corprus that I simply didn't notice until now."

"It often plays havoc with some minds," Voryn replied, laying his other hand over the one of hers clinging to his arm. Then he sighed. "Like a thief who steals from the ill-guarded, perhaps you only noticed that things were gone when you reached for them. I cannot predict how it behaves in most minds...but now that you've had your case stilled, I'm certain there will be no further worries."

"No, you wouldn't want your Nerevar to forget this time, would you?" Sadara asked, "I suppose my life is...less important."

There was a pause. Voryn stopped moving, and for a moment she was afraid.

"Your life is what brought you back to me," he said. His voice was gentler when he spoke again. "Am I so terrifying to you?"

"You aren't what you were before, Voryn," Sadara said, trying to choose her words carefully. "And I am still unlearning things that they attempted to put into my head about you. Being able to visit me like this I didn't expect, and your being able to hear my thoughts here, it's...it's not that I fear you exactly, but all this is overwhelming. Imagine it from my side - you come from nothing, you struggle and fight. You get kidnapped in the dead of night and sent to a country where no one wants you there, and start taking orders from some agent of the Emperor because what else are you going to do? The note you gave Dagoth Gares was the first real welcome I felt."

She gulped slightly.

"But at the same time everyone I met, except for the dreamers, told me how dangerous you were. The ashlanders especially. When I asked Nibani Maesa if there were not some way to save you, she told me not to bother. That a merciful end was the best course of action."

She knew she was running at the mouth, but she couldn't stop.

"How glad I am that you decided against that course of action."

Sadara squeezed briefly at his arm. "I know if our places were exchanged I'd want the same consideration. I know someone will eventually try to do what all of Morrowind seems to want, but I want you to understand: it won't be me."

"I already know that."

"I just wanted you to hear it," she looked up at the golden mask.

There was a pause, and then he started walking again.

"Did we do this before? Or is this simply you wanting no eyes on us?"

"Both," Voryn replied. "I was warning you about some worrying rumors to do with the Dwemer...and wondering why you seemed half out of it."

"Perhaps I was drunk?" she gave a slight laugh. "You did mention I liked to drink a little too much at these events."

A step onto a more overgrown path, the sight of a few daffodils and forget-me-nots. A memory stirred, and a thought along with it.

Could Kagrenac really be thinking of doing that? Dumac would never approve...

Walking beside Voryn, just as she was now.

By Azura...those cheekbones, that jaw. He's going to make such beautiful children, I only wish...

She shut her eyes.

"I was trying to tell you something serious," Voryn said, having heard both thoughts, "And you were admiring me."

"Well...perhaps there's a reason I incarnated as a bard," Sadara gave a short laugh. "We are infamous for such things, aren't we? I think...I think I must have thought I'd be able to handle it, that there was nothing to worry about."

She took a deep breath.

"That Azura would protect me, if anything went ill. Perhaps I should have paid less attention to your cheekbones and more attention to your words. Maybe then I'd have been smart enough to know you'd never betray me. I was too full of myself..."

Fog gathered at the edge of her vision. Voryn lead her off the path and under the hanging branches of a willow tree.

"It will be different this time, Nerevar. You know better now. Things will be as they were--no, better than they were, and you will be where you apparently always wanted to be: at my side."

"Just don't ask me to lead your armies," Sadara replied. "I'm tired, Voryn. I want to rest. I will keep your house ordered, your bed warm, your halls filled with music...but I don't want to lead in battle anymore. It would be best if there were no need for battle at all, but I...I know I can't convince you of that."

"I don't want to make my people suffer, but it will be necessary, to drive out the--"

"--mongrel dogs of the empire," she finished for him. "I know...I know. But you know the suffering will be worse this way. Surely Azura will send another champion, one far more likely to be bent to her will. Perhaps actual support in battle, rather than sending them off with more than just orders to do this or that. She told me I was chosen. Not to fear, that she was watchful. But the only one who has truly watched me is you...and I want to keep it that way. I don't want to lose you to a cocksure overpowered ordinator or something like that."

"You fear too much...which I can't say surprises me," Voryn said after a long silence. A flower (red salvia, she thought) appeared in his hand and he reached forward to tuck it behind her ear. "I can understand wanting to be less than what you were...and it is fortunate that I am the one leading now. I can give you all that you ask for."

She looked up at him, smiling weakly, not wanting to think the things she feared more. Knowing she must keep her mind clear, that he would hear anything she thought in this dream.

The fog grew denser, and she reached up to rub at her eyes. "I'm glad to hear it. I had...I had thought you might be angered by my...lack of enthusiasm to fight at your side."

"I could never be angry at you over so small a thing." Voryn's tone was softer than it had yet been, and he lifted her chin to look her in the eye. "We are too well entangled for that to happen."

There was a pause. She rubbed her eyes again.

"Someone is trying to wake you," he said, "Time can pass much differently here than in the waking world. I shall have to make my next visit longer."

He brought her hands to the lips of his mask and pressed a cold kiss to her knuckles.

"Awake or in dream I think of you, Nerevar. I will always think of you. Now that what you hoped has come true, no treachery will ever part us again."

Bliss filled and surrounded Sadara as the fog grew thicker still and finally blotted Voryn from view.

------------------------------------------

Her knuckles were cold when she woke to find Dagoth Ulen standing beside her bed. She jolted, before remembering where she was and why she was there.

"I, I'm sorry," she muttered a quick apology, "I...I've been attacked by ash zombies after falling asleep now and then and I...I..."

"A perfectly natural response," Ulen said, "And it is why I am waking you, and not Rather."

He turned his back while she dressed, and when he turned back she spoke up only a little awkwardly.

"The pre-dawn is Azura's time...do any of you ever hear her?"

"If others do, they have not said," Ulen replied, "I have not heard her since coming here."

"Did you, before?"

She ate some of her rations and then left the room with him; Rather followed along once she'd left it.

"I can't fully recall. I remember cursing Azura's name once, before I came to the Sixth House, but...that, along with the memories I do retain, is a bit foggy. And speaking of the Sixth House..."

He held something out to her. A Sixth House amulet.

"One of the ash poets wanted to give you this."

Sadara gave a brief smile, and took it. "I thought I would have to join the house to get one of these."

What harm could there be in wearing the thing now? Certainly there was a spell attached to it, but wearing it wouldn't trigger the thing. She'd handled a few of these before...and it would help her ongoing masquerade.

She slipped on the amulet and took a deep breath.

Ulen handed her off to Rather at the front door, and she stepped out into the lightening air. It was clearer weather than she'd seen in weeks, no blight storm, no rain, no fog, simply a clear dark sky that was getting slowly brighter.

Sadara walked to the edge of the outdoor courtyard and sat face eastward, staring at the shift of color, the darker reds, the golds, the brilliant orange, like the sky around the sun was aflame.

And as she sat, and thought, she realized three things.

One, that the delicious fluttering in her chest and the warm glow she felt when she looked at or thought of Voryn was no longer merely animalistic lust.

Two, that she was NOT going to given up saving Voryn just yet. He was softer than she had ever seen him before in the dream from before she'd woken, and he was clearly pained by the idea of hurting others. There was a chance. There was a chance.

Three, that there were in reality three possible courses she could take if, in the end, she could not persuade Voryn. To do what Azura said (which she already knew she couldn't), to join Voryn in full, or to spurn both of them and leave Morrowind entirely.

And then, a voice.

You have disappointed me, failed incarnate. For clearly, that is what you are.

[thescrolls-haveforetold]

I have a question. For your OC Nerevarine, how epic was her fight with the Tribunal (or more specifically Almalexia) compared to Dagoth Ur. I kind of see a full on anime brawl between Alma and Nerevarine while Dagoth just dies from depression upon seeing her destroy the heart. Also, absolutely love the way you draw Almaa Hope your day/night is good! Bye!

Thanks so much Anon!

And YEAH I’d love to see that too ngl, Anime brawl between those two would be MAD- wish I had that kind of animating talent NFJKDKD

In my mind the fight happens when the Nerevarine is looking to become Hortator, so before Dagoth Ur actually- the fight in my mind.. honestly is pretty epic LOL, fast paced and EXTREMELY intricate swordplay at work. Nerevar was a master swordsman as a Chimer and truth be told, they aren’t rusty even a little bit. The fight is fast, and though Nerevar doesn’t come out unscathed, she does come out victorious at the cost of one of the last pieces of her past. She regrets that everything got this bad with the Tribunal. Compared to Dagoth Ur though?? In my mind I don’t think the fight with Almalexia holds the same emotional weight. Nerevar cared for her, but to be honest. The whole thing with Voryn’s definitely been brewing since they met again as young adults. In fact I do have a scene in my mind going.. might draw that at some point.

Thanks for the compliments though Anon, really appreciate it<3

[slusheeduck]

Count Only The Happy Hours

[I.]

II.

“You were supposed to go out scouting, Vivec.”

“I did! I scouted up to the north.”

“The north? Nerevar’s contacts specifically said there were Nordic forces coming from the west. You know, where the Nords live.”

“...ah. Well, to be fair, I do retain things better when they’re written down.”

“Vivec, you backwater s’w–”

“Hey, hey! Watch your mouth, Voryn, there’s a child present.”

Dagoth Voryn promptly shut his mouth, dark eyes wide as he looked down at Vivec. He leaned slightly to his left, looking down at the boy standing quietly behind the other mer. It took him a moment, but he was able to summon back his typical coolness–only abandoned when his temper got the best of him, like a few moments ago–and looked over young Sil appraisingly. He looked back to Vivec, an already angled eyebrow raised even more.

“Congratulations. I suppose all that bawdy poetry you write paid off…well, twelve years ago, from the look of it.”

There were several quips that came to mind–very good ones, actually–but there were much more important things at hand than starting to trade barbs with Voryn. “He’s not mine,” Vivec said plainly. “His…” He paused just before recounting the destruction he’d come across; poetic as it was, this wasn’t the audience for it. “He’s on his own. I thought…” He shrugged. “I thought he could stay with us. Figure it can’t get much safer than…”

“Than a group of would-be rebels trying to capitalize on a civil war?” Voryn finished dryly.

“Than with Nerevar,” Vivec corrected.

That gave Voryn pause, and he clasped his hands behind his back for a moment as he considered. Vivec watched him closely; Voryn could never keep his emotions off his face. He saw the ghost of a “no,” the head tilt of a “Well, perhaps…”, the twisted lip of a “Oblivion take you, Vivec.” Finally, resignation crossed his face, and he gave a sigh. “He did keep you alive, didn’t he?”

“Much to your chagrin, he did.” Vivec gives a wide smile to the older mer. “So I was thinking we…”

“We? We are doing nothing until Nerevar comes back,” Voryn interjected sharply. He flicked a long strand of dark hair–unusual, for Chimer, but somehow terribly fitting for him–over his shoulder as he let out a breath. He leaned to the side again, looking down. “Have you a name, hla’kilam?”

Vivec stood tensely, ready to jump in if the boy started to turn in on himself from the pressure. He’d certainly give Voryn a talking to for undoing all his hard work thus far; bedside manner was just as important as…

“His na–”

“I didn’t ask you, Vivec, I asked him.” Voryn’s dark gaze met Sil’s pale eyes.

“Sil, muthsera.”

Oh. Well, nevermind, then.

Voryn nodded, casting an appraising eye over Sil. “You’re a House mer, aren’t you, Sil?”

This time, Sil didn’t answer. Vivec gave a sharp huff.

“Voryn, this isn’t the time to…”

“If you won’t tell me what house, Sil, at least tell me where you lived.”

Vivec blanched. “Voryn, that is exactly…”

“Ald Sotha.” The words were barely a whisper, and Sil’s hands had balled into fists. Without thinking, Vivec’s arm was over his thin shoulders, even as it did little to loosen his stiff stance.

“Ald Sotha?” Voryn thought the answer over for a moment. “Then my apologies for my informality, serjo–you must be House Sotha, then. Quite a small house, as I recall. There’s only…”

“Me.” A hollowness had found its way into Sil’s voice. “I’m the only one left.”

For the first time, Vivec caught Voryn’s gold face go pale. He mouthed only one? to himself, then looked up to Vivec for confirmation. He received a grim-faced nod in response. An uneasy silence followed; Voryn clearly wanted to ask for details, but even as cold as he was, it’s not the sort of thing you ask in front of a traumatized child.

“I’ll…see what I can do for now. We’ll discuss this further when Nerevar and Alandro return,” Voryn said stiffly, glancing up at Vivec with a silent but clear addition of, Take care of this.

Arm still around Sil’s shoulders, Vivec put on a smile. “You know, a place to rest your head is one of life’s foremost treasures, and I’m always very fond of sharing the wealth.”

“Is that what you’re calling it?” he heard Voryn mutter under his breath. He looked over, shooting a glare his way, then looked back to Sil.

“Anyway, why don’t we get you set up in my tent for now, Seht?” He sent a final glance over his shoulder to Voryn as he guided Sil out of the canopied “war room”--as of right now, they were still…very much a merchant caravan, but hopefully that’d be changing soon–and out toward the small tent just outside of it.

As they walked, Sil’s shoulders started to relax, and just as Vivec’s arm dropped, he murmured, “Fourteen.”

“What was that, Sil?”

“He…Voryn, said I was twelve. I’m fourteen.”

Vivec blinked, and a disbelieving half-smile crossed his face. “I’ll be sure to tell him so.”

Sil gave a stiff little nod, brow furrowing. “You’re rebels?” he asked quietly, looking up at him. Vivec tilted his head back and forth.

“Rebels is…such a bland way of putting it. We’re restoring the order of things, operating as the true heirs of St. Veloth, as it were,” he said. “Nerevar thinks if we get enough Chimer together–and the Dwemer, which even I think is a long shot–we’ll be able to force out the Nords and claim Resdayn for ourselves again.” He gave another smile. “I’m recording it all. By the time we’re finished, I’ll be Resdayn’s very first Warrior-Poet.”

Sil’s nose wrinkled. “That’s a contradiction.”

“So’s most of life. A lot of people ignore that; I embrace it.”

Sil looked over at him, pulled out of his reverie. “About what?”

Vivec pulled back the curtain to the small tent, gesturing inside. “And here we are. Set your bedroll wherever you’d like; I change where I sleep every few nights or so, so don’t worry about that.” He started to step back out to head back to the war room; Voryn probably ought to know all the details, and Nerevar definitely should once he was back. But he paused as he noted Sil standing very still, bedroll still on his back. He was about to mention that it was not as grand as a House mer’s home, but comfortable–but…that wasn’t what Sil needed. So instead, he dropped into a chair.

“Since I have you as my captive audience, I’m going to tell you a story, Sil.”

“I don’t know yet. But I will once the story’s done.”

~

It was very dark once Nerevar and Alandro made their way back to the camp. They’d made headway with the Dwemer, from the sound of it; Nerevar was starting to talk about their king, Dumac, like he was an old friend. The good news, at least, was able to temper the shock once Vivec gave the whole story behind how Sil wound up with them.

“An entire house, gone,” Voryn murmured, shock from earlier now plain on his face. Vivec looked over at him.

“I thought you’d like that,” he said. “Seems like you’re always complaining about this house and that. Just a few days ago, you were railing off about House Redoran.”

“If House Redoran were to meet their end by their own foolishness, I wouldn’t mourn. But for an entire House to be decimated in a single day–by a daedric prince, no less…” Voryn let out a breath. “It’s sobering. It would be if it was Redoran, but it’s even moreso with an inoffensive house like Sotha.” He looked over at Nerevar. “Perhaps we ought to be cautious. I wouldn’t be surprised if the strife in Resdayn’s what attracted Dagon here.”

Nerevar had stayed remarkably silent so far, arms crossed and fair brows drawn together in thought. At Voryn’s mention of caution, though, he looked up.

“Our efforts are blessed by Azura,” he said firmly. “Our trust in the Good Daedra have gotten us this far, and they’ll see us through to the end.” He sucked in his bottom lip, sitting back with a little less certainty in his expression. “But word ought to get out to the other Clans. As a warning, if nothing else.” He looked up at Vivec. “How is he doing? The boy?”

Vivec shrugged. “As well as he can be, I’d say. Even a battle-hardened warrior would be crippled living through what he did; the fact that he hasn’t given in to Sheogorath yet is remarkable.” He shifted slightly from where he sat on the floor, uncrossing and recrossing his legs. “He healed me, you know. The ruinach managed a blow that could have been lethal, but…” He gestured to the smooth skin on his side. “Not even a scar, and he was still very deeply in shock.” He glanced about the room. “I think he could be useful.”

“A healing prodigy?” Alandro’s eyes, bright as starlight, settled on Vivec. “Useful, sure. But a liability.” He looked up at Nerevar. “This is no place for a child.”

“He’s fourteen,” Vivec piped up. “He wanted me to mention it, since Voryn got his age wrong.” He looked back to Nerevar. “Not much younger than I was when you picked me up for the cause.”

“And look at what we have to deal with from that decision,” Voryn muttered.

“Voryn. Vehk, sit down,” Nerevar said, chiding the both of them. Vivec, half-risen and hand going for his sword, dropped back down to the ground with a huff as Nerevar continued, “Look, regardless of what we ultimately decide, we’re not turning him out into the wilderness. He’s at least staying with us until we can find somewhere safe.”

“Nowhere is safe, not right now,” Vivec said before anyone else can chime in. “At best, he ends up in a stranger’s family. At worst, he’s on the streets, and you all know as well as I that an untethered Chimer–even a boy–is fair target practice for any Nords.” He looked up at Nerevar pleadingly. “I’ll…I’ll raise him. Or I’ll at least look out for him until he’s grown.”

Both Alandro and Voryn scoffed at that. Nerevar, however, looked over him for a moment. There was a look that seemed dangerously close to pride in his face, but even the ghost of it was enough to give Vivec hope.

“Well, we’ll ask him what he wants when we get to the next city,” he said, neither confirming nor denying–a diplomat, even among friends. “In the meantime, Vivec, I’ll hold you to that.”

A wave of relief hit Vivec, enough to make him sag right there on the floor. “Thank you, Nerevar.”

Voryn’s dark eyes slid over to look at Vivec, then back to Nerevar. There was an argument on his lips, but clearly it wasn’t strong enough to make its way out. Instead, his expression shifted to the smile he always wore when agreeing with Nerevar’s ideas, and he said, “If he’s a prodigy–and a House mer besides–then he can’t be wholly left in the hands of a netchiman thug.” Despite the look Nerevar sent him at that, he continued, “I’ll offer what I can to young Sil while he’s with us, however long that may be.”

Vivec bristled, but Nerevar’s broad hand falling onto his shoulder kept him from speaking. “I’m certain the more of us that can help him, the easier he’ll be able to make his way out of his grief.” He gave a warm, curious smile. “Clearly the Three were looking after him that day. He must have quite the future ahead of him.”

Vivec looked up at him, then let out a softer, but still relieved breath. Well, it wasn’t terribly much to offer, but he could rest easy enough, at least for now.

~

They’d just moved shortly before Vivec had gone out on his scouting trip, so it would likely be a few weeks before they saw a city again–well, one above ground, at any rate; one of the many entrances to the Dwemer’s domain, via unnatural mechanics, were nearby. Given how glad Nerevar was returning from his talks with them, perhaps an alliance wasn’t quite as far-fetched as they’d thought.

There was still much to do above ground, at any rate. Despite the friction between them, Voryn and Vivec co-authored as many correspondences as they could–Vivec offering the words to stir others to action, Voryn giving the veracity via House Dagoth. There were also strategies to devise–Alandro was much better at it, admittedly, but they could hold their own as well–and information to gather from the surrounding area. And, of course, a young boy to mentor.

At the very least, Voryn’s offer to aid with Sil wasn’t a hollow promise to placate Nerevar–something he’d been guilty of much more than once. He was the more adept mage of the two of them, and even from different houses, it was clear the both of them were from a world that Vivec couldn’t quite reach. It was probably a comfort, in a way, even if he couldn’t see it.

But, for once in his life, Vivec really did focus on practicality. There was always a bed ready for Sil to rest his head, food enough to help him grow, and, most importantly, a friendly face always nearby. The boy was still serious and very quiet, but he never seemed to dislike Vivec, even when he was verbally musing over the turns of phrase he should use.

So it was quite a shock when Sil burst into the tent, with a quiet but fierce, “You’re a liar.”

“I’m what?” Vivec, recovering after a more successful scouting expedition, looked up from his bedroll in drowsy surprise.

“You weren’t born from an egg. Voryn says you’re the son of a netchiman from the Bitter Coast.” There was fire in Sil’s face, as if he were confronting a grand injustice.

“Well, he wasn’t there, was he?” Vivec started to lay down again, but sharp footsteps came over to him, and there was an indignant huff as Sil sat on the bedroll beside his.

“Tell me the truth.”

Vivec sighed, head falling back. Was he like this as a teenager? Certainly not. All the same, he pushed himself up to sit, crossing his legs and resting his arms against his knees. “You want the true story about me then?” He looked up as Sil gave a firm nod. “Very well. I was born to a netchiman and spent my youth growing up to the laughter and songs of the people in my village. As I grew, I became very good at sailing through the silt, but then I got very sick.”

Sil had relaxed as Vivec spoke, fiery expression softening into relief.

“I was sick for a hundred years, and then I died.”

“Vivec!” His name came out of Sil in a burst of childish fury, voice breaking on the second syllable. How nice it was, seeing him act his age, even if it was only for a moment.

Vivec laughed, dropping back onto the bedroll. He folded his arms behind his head as he grinned up at Sil. “I’ve a lesson for you, Seht, so listen very closely: everything you hear, from every person, is a story, crafted by them. It’s up to you to decide which ones you believe and which ones you don’t.” He shrugs. “Whether I came from a dreugh egg or a netchiman doesn’t matter. Either way, I’m here now, speaking with you.”

Sil made an irritated noise. “But then how do you know the truth? About anything?”

“You don’t. That’s what makes life interesting.” Vivec rolled onto his side, cheek planted against his palm. “Here, I’ve a story for you, and you can decide if it’s true or not.”

Sil eyed him suspiciously, but didn’t get up or protest.

“I was taught how to use a sword by a demiprince–the son of Boethiah, Fa-Nuit-Hen.” As Sil opened his mouth to argue, he quickly continued, “And you need to listen to the whole story before you decide. Fair enough?”

Sil crossed his arms, a frown still firmly in place, but he nodded.

“So, as I was in my egg…”

“Stop!”

[III]

[harrenhalyuri]

for us, the wounds kissed long before the lips

23rd of Sun's Dawn, 1E 461, Alessian Empire.

During the coronation of Emperor Gorieus, the Hortator and the head of House Dagoth steal a moment for themselves.

tags: drinking & talking; angst; one-sided relationship; attempt at worldbuilding

ao3 version here

They stumbled forward laughing and shushing one another as the heavy oak doors closed behind them - the warmth and merry of the coronation feast left behind as the two stepped out into the garden.

Nerevar recalled walking the streets of Nirnbuldihr - the cyan glow of the giant mushrooms reflecting on the windows of several shops. One in particular caught his eye, and he crossed the cobblestone sidewalk to inspect it more closely. Blown glass sculptures, colorful and intricate in the way the dwemer favored.

His favorite had been a piece hidden in the back of the window, as if outshined by more complex, elaborate pieces upfront. It had been a white glass diorama, depicting a cottage surrounded by trees swaying in the breeze - the sort of simplicity the dwemer had no interest in.

The garden reminded him of that diorama - covered in a blanket of snow, completely undisturbed by the world around it.

Voryn pulled him under the arches that covered the path to the guest wing, but the Hortator held him back.

“No, let us stay for a bit.” He answered, arm still draped around the back of his friend’s neck as he stepped on the soft snow. Voryn sighed, yet allowed Nerevar to lead him.

“Frolicking amidst the cold? Do you plan on inviting the Nords to join us?” The head of House Dagoth said snidely as he crossed his arms to warm himself.

Nerevar laughed and shoved him away.

“The snow never belonged to those s’wits, you’re simply thin-blooded from living under the shadow of a volcano.”

“Perhaps, and rightly so.”

The snow softly crunched under their boots as they wandered near a tree - now completely stripped of leaves, its gnarled branches seemed to reach towards the sky.

“It always snows in Akamora.” Nerevar inhaled deeply, enjoying how his lungs burned as he took in the crisp, cool air. “In the mountains, at least. The paths are sharp and winding, and it freezes over during winter. No caravans may come or go, not until Sun’s Dawn.”  

The Hortator grabbed a handful of snow, the ice leeching the warmth of his skin through the kagouti leather gloves. Absent-mindedly he shaped it until a white sphere rested on his palm. Secunda and Masser bore down on them - the moon glow glinting on the high windows of Skingrad’s castle.

Nerevar recalled the moon glow glinting on the tip of ice spikes, sharp enough to be spears, at the highest peak of Akamora.

Azura had come to him then, for the first time, to bestow Moon-and-Star upon the captain - his fingers had been so stiff from the cold that he could barely feel them anymore, the goddess’s touch as foreign as the ring she had slipped on his finger.

When he came down from the mountain, the first ashlanders had hailed him Hortator, and it had felt just as foreign as the ring on his finger.  

“It must be rather grim.” Voryn commented, the cyrodilic brandy swirling inside the bottle as he brought it to his lips. The distaste in his face was plain to see - it couldn’t hold a candle to the Dagoth brandy.  

Nerevar smiled, his short-lived melancholia forgotten.

“How can you say that? Short-tempered caravan masters, cheap mazte and all the comforts of a straw bed...” The captain delighted at Voryn’s growing distaste as he spoke. The head of House Dagoth was a creature of comfort and status, something that had made the duo different as the sun and the moon.    

"Lovely, I'm sure." Voryn replied with a sour expression. Nerevar laughed.

"For a researcher, you spent far too much time cocooned up in Kogoruhn." The Hortator recalled several jars containing fungi species and creatures preserved in a strong alcoholic solution, one more outlandish than the other. In his curiosity, the captain had pestered Voryn with questions until he nearly dropped one of the jars. The head of House Dagoth had snapped at him to stop before he accidentally unleashed a deadly plague and got them both killed.

That had been many years ago, before the war, when Nerevar was still seeking support from the great houses. The somber, willowy lord that had greeted him in Kogoruhn had been the first to join him - his support had been won easily, but his friendship had not.  

"And due to that, couriers are eternally indebted to House Dagoth. Why would I waste my precious time wandering through mud in a thrice-damned swamp?” The councilor huffed, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand.

Nerevar laughed, the corners of his eyes crinkling in amusement.

“And what if your Hortator commanded you to?”

The previous distaste vanished in a second as the sharp, haughty aristocratic features softened; the ruby-colored gaze meeting his, warm as the liquor sloshing inside the bottle.

“I’d wander until time itself ceased to be if Muthsera willed so.” Despite the devotion, the lord councilor had steel in his voice; unwavering as the very core of Nirn.

Nerevar let the snow sphere fall to the ground, the reverence in those words overwhelming as he broke his gaze away, before joining the councilor on the stone bench. The orange glow of a candle reflected on the windows above; a small flickering flame moving as a servant crossed the corridor. The former captain followed it until the speckle of light vanished behind stone walls.

“I miss it.” He blurted out, seized by a deep longing as the world seemed to be reduced into that snow-covered, unperturbed garden; as if its two occupants were the only souls in Nirn.

“By the Three, how I miss it! To Oblivion with those titles and thrones and crowns; I miss the road, I miss the ache after a long day’s march and falling on the straw at night too tired to think.” Nerevar leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and covering his face with his hands. Azura had blessed him with the strength to carry the title of Hortator, yet he craved the simplicity of being nothing more than a captain, with no past nor future beyond the next town.

The Hortator missed walking through the crowded streets of the bazaars; the cramped food stalls with ill-tempered merchants that served meals with enough spices to burn his tongue; the shady cornerclubs where you had to watch both your tongue and your coin purse.  

Now he signed papers, spoke with lords, and followed the proper etiquette befitting his rank; he watched the streets through the high windows of his palace, as if his brethren were tiny ants. The former captain pulled his hands away and felt a tear roll down the bridge of his nose; the liquor was truly getting to his head. He placed a hand on his councilor’s knee; the several layers of red wool soft under his glove.

“Let’s leave - just the two of us and the road ahead, like it was before the war. We’ll name ourselves whatever we wish, we’ll sleep under the stars and chew on marshmerrow pieces as we travel.”

“Where shall we go, sweet Nerevar?” The young lord played along; his voice soft as a whisper, as if afraid to disturb the stillness around them.

“Wherever you desire - do you still wonder about Hammerfell? I’ll take you to see the dunes that stretch as far as the sun, you’ll study their beetles and giant scorpions for as long as you wish, then we can drink qishr and break bread with the nomads.” Nerevar found himself smiling as he recalled the heat of the desert and the loose, colorful fabrics the natives wore.

He turned around and reached for the bottle, fingers brushing against his confidant’s. Only then, Nerevar realized his councilor had forgotten his gloves inside the hall; the golden skin contrasting against the snow, the long, elegant fingers trembling with the cold.

“Oh, Voryn.” The former captain frowned, quickly pulling his own gloves off and taking hold of the other’s wrist; the scarlet nails vanishing into the supple leather as he adjusted the glove.

“Remember when you fell sick, five days after we departed Kogoruhn? We had to-” The sentence fell on deaf ears, vanishing under the branches heavy with snow as lips met his, swallowing his words with hunger. A hand connected with his chest, closing into a fist as Voryn pulled him closer; as if it weren’t enough.

Distant and haughty Voryn, who ate sparingly and never smudged the red paint he wore on his lips, bit the Hortator’s lower lip before pulling back; eyes half-lidded as he brushed the tip of his nose against Nerevar’s in a silent plea.

The ink-colored hair contrasted against the pale golden skin; the black fur collar brushing against the captain’s chin; a pale pink blooming on his cheeks, either from cold, the brandy, or something else-

Heart hammering against his ribcage, blood drumming on his ears; it was the slightest tilt of his face that thrice-damned him as Voryn’s lips smashed against his; a devotion he was unworthy of every time their tongues met; muffled prayers in form of sighs and whimpers.  

Unworthy, unworthy, unworthy. A voice whispered in his mind, taunting him; in his mind’s eye he saw peach-colored lips curled in derision, teeth bared like a wolf’s. Almalexia’s snarl.

Somewhere, a door groaned open and the sounds of the feast reached the garden, shattering their sanctuary; the weight of being Hortator came crashing down on his shoulders. Nerevar pulled back as if he had been burned, his palm on the young lord’s shoulder firmly holding the other back. He looked down, unable to face the confusion, the longing. Too much, it was too much. His hair was disheveled, pale strands falling against his face and he felt grateful for the cover.

“Nerevar-” The head of House Dagoth began, voice hoarse and breathless.

“Forgive me.”

“There’s nothing to forgive, I’ve wanted-”

“It was a mistake.”

“Oh.” Voryn inhaled sharply as if his lungs had suddenly been emptied.

“I’ve...I drank more than I should have. We both have.” His words feel hollow, and he can no longer tell if the bitter taste on his tongue belonged to the brandy, or the shame. The silence stretched; neither dared to move.

“I see.” His voice is flat, devoid of emotion; the usual aloofness reserved for others. Out of the corner of his eye, Nerevar watched him straighten his posture; the dark hair falling like a curtain, obscuring half of his face.  

Other guests left the feast; their chatter and laughter permeated the garden as they walked down the path to the other wing of the castle. Nerevar felt the red gaze pinned to his back, yet no words left his lips. He watched the snow under his boots; watery and muddy as it mixed with the dirt below.

At last, he heard the rustling of fabric as Voryn rose to his feet; impeccable posture as he towered over the Hortator.

“May this servant be excused, Muthsera?” The words rolled easily off his tongue; the sharp formality of it made Nerevar wince.

The Hortator forced himself to lift his head and face his long-time friend; clad in red wool and black fur, the snowflakes melting on the long, inky hair; the blank expression betraying nothing, except for his lips; the red paint had been smudged, contorting their shape.

“Yes.”

From the cradle, the heir of House Dagoth had been taught the games of persuasion and deceit; a master in concealing his thoughts behind a mask.

Nerevar took a hollow, cowardly comfort in it.

Voryn Dagoth bowed before him, as etiquette mandated, before vanishing into the corridor; the sound of his footsteps hammering inside the Hortator’s head until they vanished, leaving him with nothing but a headache and the cold.

After finishing the bottle by himself, the former captain laid in bed, watching the moons slowly crossing the sky through the windows; his dreams haunted by both his closest friend and his wife; one seeming to shift into the other as they pinned him against the sheets; ever-hungry as they sought out his lips.

It was late morning when he rose; mouth dry and head throbbing like it had been split open with an axe. The hearth had been tended to recently, the fire crackling as it consumed the logs. He turned in bed, still wrapped around the sheets.

Voryn will understand, he understands the importance of duty better than anyone. He reasoned with himself.

A single kagouti glove on the floor, as if someone had pushed it under the door.

Across the hallway, a lord painted his lips red; immaculately framing the natural shape of his lips. His unbalanced emotions shattered the mirror into a thousand pieces when his fingers trembled for a second and a smudge appeared.

Duty, he’s devoted to duty, the lord repeated mentally, as he collected the shards.

[maybemanyskeletonhats]

What would elves think of a hero with heterochromia?

A condition in which the colored part of the eye (iris) is multicolored.

This scenario features chosen eye colors that are randomly picked for this scenario. This can be taken romantically or platonic.

Unedited. Recruit character for Voryn Dagoth. As usual.

Sotha Sil notices it immediately. With their chin tilted up to look at him properly, from where he was standing he could see the vestige had brown and grey eyes. He never comments on it to them, but is content with looking into their eyes as they speak. It gives this demi-god the perfect chance to study the small flecks of different colors hidden in their irises. He eventually does say something to them about it one night as they talk quietly. It's nothing intrusive or rude, he only gently murmurs that he has never saw anything like it. Speaking plainly, he finds them rather alluring looking.

Vivec doesn't notice that quickly at first. But when the timid Nerevarine steps into the light of the torches within his residence does he notice. Strong firelight casted on two shining pools of blue and green. His own breath hitches in his chest. Their eyes are definitely beautiful, something he has never seen before in any of the people he's met during his long life. The already eye-catching colors paired with the gentle way they peer at him leaves him feeling fuzzy.

Almalexia head tilts when she sees them. Her gaze slowly drifting across their face, the pretty contrast of soft yellow and a grey so light he seemed white. She had seen this affliction before, and knew very well that there was no getting rid of it. Vivec has two different eye colors, if anything, they would both get along well. The thought makes her lips twitch upward slightly. "You have beautiful eyes, vestige." She states simply, gazing at them as they rubbed the back of their neck sheepishly. Almalexia hears a very faint 'Thank you' in response. She merely nods in reply, and smiles. Just a little though.

Mannimarco stares. A lot. Not because he wants to come off as rude, but because he's really fascinated by them. Not just by their eyes but because of them in general. They had saved him from Coldharbor and now they were making him feel things. What were they thinking? The grumpy Necromancers own eyes flicked around their face. The stunning green and purple something odd yet beautiful. Probably bluntly asks how they became that way. When the vestige answers with confusion on their face that they've always been like that. His eyebrows raise, and his lips purse. Well, they are pretty. But he won't inflate their ego that way.

Voryn Dagoth first sees their eyes and regards them as normal. The reddish brown of their left eye with the sharp contrast of their azure blue in the other. They seem surprised he doesn't mention them, but smiles happily as he continues to tell them of their new role working under him and by extension. Nerevar. Unbeknownst to them, Voryn finds them astounding. He's seen a few people with their type of genetics before. Likes to look at them as they talk.

Neloth arches a brow when he sees them and would probably be interested studying them. He wouldn't cause them harm of course, he'd see how they changed with light on them. Did they get lighter or darker? Likes them, surprisingly. Doesn't tell them though because he believes it would inflate their ego. Funnily enough something he had quite abit of. He supposes they really are meant to be.

Divayth Fyr finds the blue and brown eyes something special. Lightly teases that anyone with such an intense gaze as they have might intimidate people. Earning the dry response reminding him that they are the Nerevarine and people already tended to move out of the way. The wizard merely snorts and turns his back on them, smiling innerly as they become offended.

Teldryn Sero doesn't really ask them about the mix of red and green. Though he does get to look at them more as he persuades them to take him with them on their travels. After awhile though, he rather bluntly asks them if they are a vampire, which causes the Dragonborn to double take. They explain that their eyes are just naturally like that and they couldn't really explain why. Unfortunately or fortunately, he doesn't pay them much mind, nor does he ask. He's used to them quickly.

[rucow]

massive nerevoryn hcs, beware

I have nerevoryn brainworms that torment me day and night, so I answered this ask game under the cut (I did this for myself not for anyone else, pls be nice and ignore it if u don’t like something you see here!)

(A lil clarification: I headcanon Voryn as nonbinary and I use they/them pronouns for them, also they’re ace and afab in my hc, pls look away if that makes u uncomfy) • How did they first meet? They met when Nerevar was hopping from House to House to ask to be supported as Hortator, he just kinda showed up at Voryn's home outta nowhere and was met with 38237 identical serious Dagoth siblings. I can’t think about it without laughing dgsfh

• What was their first impression of each other? Voryn thought Nerevar a fool at first, for coming all the way to Kogoruhn just to ask for political support and to justify /why/ he should be politically supported However, Voryn saw almost instantly that Nerevar was genuine and driven and had strong ambitions for Resdayn, and they ended up agreeing on a lot of things. Meanwhile, Nerevar's first impression of Voryn was...kinda non-existent? He didn't pay much attention to them and didn't differentiate much between Voryn and their siblings. They were all just a bunch of polite goths to him, so he liked them from the beginning 😹

• Did any of their friends or family want them to get together? Voryn's family was neutral and maybe a lil cautious, but ultimately didn't interfere at all and they quickly accepted Nerevar as part of their family Nerevar has no family, though I consider Vivec to be his family in some way. But no, Vivec didn't really want them to get together :') (he didn't like Voryn very much in the beginning, he thought they're boring, too serious, and has no sense of humor LOL but he warms up to them after a while.. he won’t stop messing with them tho, bc they’re rly easy to tease and that’s fun) • Who felt romantic feelings first? Voryn did. Nerevar's feelings only started ages later, he's not really the type to sit down and analyze/reflect on his feelings, so he didn't realize he had romantic feelings until they hit him full force LOL • Did either of them try to resist their feelings? Voryn tried, but gave up and opted for hiding their feelings instead of suppressing them 😔 • If you had told one of them that the other would be their soulmate, what would they think? They would believe it. Nerevar wouldn't immediately assume it means "romantic soulmate" though, he already sees Voryn as a very close friend so the news that they're soulmates makes perfect sense to him. On the other hand, Voryn wouldn't be surprised to find out they're soulmates, but they'd feel like it's a cruel thing to do to them both, since they can't be together openly and in the way that they want to be. It would be heartbreaking to them :’/ • What would their lives be like if they had never met? Voryn's life would've remained quiet and uneventful, most likely. And they wouldn’t have ended up the way they did in canon.  Nerevar is an unpredictable mystery though so I have no idea, maybe he'd go down a different path and take some impulsive bad decisions in his life 🤔 oh wait he already does that nvm • Who initiated the relationship, and how did it go? Nerevar initiated it. Voryn has had feelings for him for a very long time, but at first they didn't want to be in a relationship with Nerevar due to how complicated it would be, but yeah...they couldn't ignore their heart's call, and definitely couldn't refuse Nerevar when he started returning the feelings :') • Did they have an official first date? If so, what was it like? YEAH!! I have no idea though! It would've been secret but very nice and romantic :'D • What was their first kiss like? It was intimate, and heavy. It was packed full of years of suppressed feelings and wishes. Voryn may have teared up a bit lmao • Were they each other’s first anything (kiss, relationship, etc.)? Nerevar has already had relationships (though nothing long-term) and has had...experience with ppl, in all meanings Nerevar WAS Voryn's first everything though! Mainly because Voryn has never had much interest in ppl before, and just the thought of kissing grosses them out, unless it’s with the right person ofc uwu • What’s their height difference? Age difference? Nerevar is 6'1 and Voryn is 5′6-5'7, they're the same age though! • What’s their relationship with each other’s families? Nerevar likes the dagoths. They don’t pry into his business (ahem, affair*) with Voryn and they always welcome him to Kogoruhn with no problem (aka they tolerate his out-of-nowhere appearances and occassional odd behavior). He finds it a bit unsettling that Voryn has so many siblings but he doesn’t question it. Voryn tries to get along with Vivec, even tho the younger makes it difficult. Voryn is an older sibling, so they have the patience to deal with a younger moodier mer who’s hellbent on disliking them for no reason LOL • Who takes the lead in social situations? Nerevar does, Voryn is really awkward at socializing and hates doing it too 😹 • Who gets jealous easier? They both do, but their jealousy manifests in different ways. Nerevar is much more vocal/open about it. Voryn doesn't give him any reasons to be jealous tho, at least not on purpose 🤧 • Who whispers inappropriate things in the other’s ear? UHH neither of them does 😳 ...unless they've been drinking, then they both do it fjdhsn (Voryn won’t say anything explicit tho, just rly cheesy declarations of love or something SOBS) • Who said “I love you” first? Voryn said it first, but only after Nerevar had already confessed his feelings :’) they needed to be sure they wouldn’t get rejected bc that would just break their heart tbh • Who uses cheesy pick-up lines? Both do, but they mean it in all seriousness, and they believe every word the other says. • How often do they cuddle/engage in PDA? PDA is a big no-no for obvious reasons, unless it's only around trustworthy ppl like Alandro Sul and Voryn's family. Yes, Alan my boi is chill with all of this hehe • Who initiates kisses? Nerevar. He's very touchy uwu • Who’s the big and little spoon? Nere's the big spoon, usually. Voryn's like...a stick...though they can get clingy in their sleep /sobs • What are their favorite things to do together? Having time to spend together is rare for them, so they treasure every little moment they have. They both prefer spending time completely alone with one another, somewhere far and secluded where they can’t see or hear any other people. Nerevar needs moments of quietness to recharge after dealing with so many ppl in his daily affairs, so he really appreciates Voryn’s company bc their energy is very calming and they’re just quiet and pleasant in general.... they’re the type to sit in comfortable silence and just lean on one another as the world fades around them :’) • Who’s better at comforting the other? They know each other very well, so they're both amazing at comforting each other, except it's a lot easier for Voryn to comfort Nerevar solely because Voryn isn't as open about their emotions as he is, and doesn't want to worry Nerevar with anything, so they keep their emotions/pain private much more than Nerevar does. Nere's more open about things that bother him and spills his soul out to Voryn often lol • Who’s more protective? Oh gosh they are both overprotective of one another, they live dangerous lives after all. However, Voryn's the type to get physically sick by worrying over Nerevar's well-being... Nerevar doesn't handle it any better tho, he would become very spooky and destructive if anything happened to Voryn 👀 • Do they prefer verbal or physical affection? Nerevar prefers verbal affection from Voryn, because he knows Voryn’s words are always truthful. Voryn prefers physical affection from Nerevar though, because they know he uses verbal affection with a lot of people, so the physical kind feels more personal and genuine to them u_u • What are some songs that apply to their relationship, in-universe or otherwise? ... I must warn u. my taste in music is maybe TOO happy/sappy for these two, but anyway.. here u go (all these songs are from Voryn’s POV): 1. the lyrics and overall aesthetic and feel of this song.. it suits them in my hc a lot :’( 2. by the same singer, this song HHNGN the lyrics just make me think of how voryn sees nerevar 3. something even more light-hearted... sorry there’s no eng subs but trust me the lyrics are beautiful, the bridge especially makes me cry it’s so pretty.. and 「美しい心を持っている、ずっとこの海よりも深い」 😭 BASICALLY ANY LOVE SONGS MAKE ME THINK OF THEM 😭😭 • Who remembers the little things? Voryn's memory is impeccable. Nerevar is kinda airheaded, he doesn't remember things consciously but he remembers them in his heart • If they get married, who proposes? Voryn does! Though it's not a typical proposal, because their relationship isn't typical either. They simply propose that they both should undergo a ritual to bring them (more specifically, their souls) closer together... It’s the same ritual that Voryn’s mother did to their father, and they learned it from her before she disappeared/passed • What’s the wedding like? Who attends? It's a secret one, so no one attends it besides the two. It's not a wedding though, it's more like a romantic ritual conducted by Voryn themself, where they link their souls/hearts together :') it happens at nighttime in a secluded place, probably a cave with an open sky... somewhere in nature far away from any civilization • How many kids do they have, if any? What are they like? They have one very rambunctious but sweet daughter! She inherits a LOT of Nerevar’s looks and personality, even his ideals and stuff (once she grows up) • Do they have any pets? Nerevar doesn't have any, but he loves animals. Voryn's home has plenty of domestic animals/creatures though, much to Nerevar's joy 👌 (yes I hc the dagoths to be farmers bc I love the thought of a goth farm) • Who’s the stricter parent? Voryn. Though they're still very mild, just. more cautious about parenting than Nerevar is?? And unlike him, they actually teach their kid manners djfnsf • Who kills the bugs in the house? VORYN. They have no fear of bugs and actually know how to handle them really well! • How do they celebrate holidays? Not together :'( </3 • Who’s more likely to convince the other to come back to sleep in the morning? Voryn. Nerevar's an early morning person, while Voryn just wants to be lazy and stay in bed until noon. Voryn has sleepy b* disease • Who’s the better cook? Dare I say both??? >:)c Voryn likes baking more than cooking though, so when they have the time for it, they like treating Nerevar with sweets u_u✨ Nerevar doesn’t really have a sweet tooth though, he’ll just engulf anything that Voryn or their family cooks LOL

[seydaneencensusoffice]

Day 2: Magic

   On the journey from Vvardenfell, by ship from Sadrith Mora to the northern coast of Stonefalls and then by silt strider south across the fungal plane, Araynys busied herself putting the finishing touches on her costume for the masquerade ball to be held on her second night in Mournhold. She had spent the past lonely weeks in the Dagoth stronghold working on it, first laying out the cloth – a slippery, shining silk dyed greenish-blue, the colour of a clear freshwater pool in the forest – over the stone floor of her room, and lovingly cutting and shaping it, then sewing the pieces together by hand with silver thread. She had sung, softly and only to herself, as she worked, and her song made the air around her ripple with magicka, drawing the stronghold cats to her to curl up and bask in the veil of serenity she had created unthinkingly.

   Now, in the hollow compartment of the silt strider’s carapace, concentrating hard to keep her stand steady through the rocking gait of the great arthropod, Araynys sewed the last of the beads onto her costume. They were tiny spheres of glass bought by the scoop in the nearby market; some clear, looking like real preserved water droplets, and others blue and green. As it grew dark, she conjured a glowing ball of light to float about the compartment while she sewed the beads onto the dress in dewy strands that made a soft clinking sound when the fabric shifted over her lap. She had designed the dress so that the beads would fan out around her as she danced; indeed, she had practiced, alone in her room in the stronghold, hoping that her provincial dancing instruction would be up to the standard of the royal court.

   When the caravaner brought the silt strider to a halt, Araynys alighted with a look of wonder on her face and brushed away his suggestion that she take a carriage to her destination.

   “I’ll walk, thank you,” she said, and set off with her trunk through the cobbled streets of the Resdaynian capital. She held her conjured ball of light in the fist of one hand, so that light seeped through her fingers.

   Although it was now evening, and this was her first visit to Mournhold, Araynys was not afraid; she knew that she could cast a shield spell faster than a thief could draw a dagger, and the main streets of the city were lit with enchanted lanterns. Besides, after two years of reading Voryn’s letters, in which he devoted pages of careful detail to Mournhold, its streets, its landmarks, and its people, Araynys felt like she knew it almost as well as Sadrith Mora, where she made frequent trips to buy fabric and alchemical supplies. She was thinking already of how she might contrive to stay in Mournhold beyond the single term she was to study at Shad Astula, the nearby academy of magic. It would certainly please her cousin, who had been trying for years to convince her to come to stay.

   Voryn lived in an upstairs apartment in the temple district, a short walk from the palace walls. Ever since he had become friendly with Sotha Sil and begun to advise the First Council on north-eastern Chimer politics, he had spent much of his time there, and Araynys was sure that she would recognise most of the most important mer at court from the vivid descriptions in his letters. Sotha Sil, a mage and scholar like her cousin, with a line between his eyes from his near-permanent frown; Almalexia, the warrior queen, who was both mighty and fiercely attentive to her subjects; the poet Vivec, whose very presence at court drove the more old fashioned nobles, obsessed with family and blood, mad; and, finally, Nerevar, who was only a soldier when Araynys had met him, years ago when he had come to win the Grandmaster’s support, but who was now the king. Voryn had devoted pages of writing to him alone.

   She was proud of her cousin and pleased that he had managed to escape the anxious, suffocating grip of his father for a promising career at the Resdaynian court, but she had felt his absence keenly over the past years. Out of the eight Dagoth children – four of them the sons of the Grandmaster, with Voryn the second eldest, and four of them distant Dagoth cousins fostered or adopted into his household – Voryn had always been her favourite, and she his. Thus, she was not surprised when she stepped into his apartment, and into his embrace, and felt immediately more at home there than in the place she had left.

   The apartment was small, just several rooms, and looked exactly as Voryn’s bedroom in the Dagoth stronghold always had: dark and cluttered with books and papers and the stubs of candles, melted in on themselves, with his harp standing near the sofa and an assortment of alchemical ingredients drying on every available surface of the living room. Voryn himself looked exhausted, his eyes bracketed with dark circles and his hands stained with pen ink, but he only laughed when Araynys admonished him.

   “Don’t they let you sleep, Voryn?”

   “There’s a lot of work to do,” he said, peevishly.

   She prodded his stomach, about to give a quick retort, but then paused and frowned.

   “Don’t they feed you, either? Come on, I brought some of that spice mix you like, from the market. We can make saltrice dahl.”

   Voryn perked up at that, and the cousins set about cooking their meal together, laughing and bickering and getting in each other’s way, just as they had done all their lives at home. They ate sitting cross-legged on cushions around a low table, their faces warmed by the steam rising from the bowls of spicy dahl in their laps.  

   “So,” Voryn began, speaking slowly and with care, “how is father?”

   “Fine… well, he kicked out another healer and we’re still waiting for the replacement to arrive, but other than that he’s fine. Your stepmother has been making him get out more. You know, I think he expects me to come back with a written report about how you are and what you’re up to. That’s probably why he let me come.”

   Voryn frowned. “You should feel able to do as you like, Rayna. You don’t owe him –”

   “I do. Gilvoth…”

   “Is dead.” A firm edge had crept into his voice. “I wish you would consider staying here, in Mournhold. I’ll be moving to a bigger place soon; you know there’s always room for you.”

   “I am. Considering it, I mean.”

   “Rayna…” Voryn took her hand and squeezed it in gentle reassurance. “You don’t need to feel guilty anymore. You never did.”

   She had to look away for a moment, dashing the back of her free hand across her face.  

   “Thank you, Vorya.”

   That evening, as she prepared for bed in Voryn’s study-turned-second bedroom, which was even more cluttered with books than the rest of the apartment, she found she had little need of her usual protective wards to soothe herself to sleep. Away from the miserable Dagoth stronghold, where Voryn’s surviving brothers fought like cats and the ghost of Gilvoth lurked behind every door, she felt more at peace than she had in years. She would stay. She had to stay – damn the Grandmaster to Oblivion.

   On her second night in Mournhold, before the masquerade ball, a transformation – woven with magic, paint, and costume – took place, and Araynys and Voryn became nereid and dremora. They stood together in front of the grand mirror in Voryn’s bedroom, she in her beaded dress and he in a hooded black robe embroidered with black thread, laughing as they altered their features with Illusion spells.

   “I quite like this look,” said Voryn, as he turned his eyes from gold to blood red.

   “Maybe you should make it permanent.” Araynys slid another pin into her hair to hold her leaf headdress in place. “You’d certainly turn heads that way.”

   “And who says I want heads turned in my direction, Rayna?”

   Araynys waved off his attempt at bland innocence. “Come on. He’ll be there tonight, I presume?”

   “I don’t know who you’re talking about. Now… let me do your hair. It should be blue, don’t you think?”

   “Fine,” she said with a sigh.

   Voryn hid a smile as he ducked behind her and began to work his spell, turning her long black hair, a distinctive Dagoth feature they both shared, cloudy blue.  

   Finally, as they stepped out into the fading daylight and made their way on foot to the palace, Araynys slid her arm through Voryn’s, and she knew that his smile was out of joy in seeing her so happy.

   “How do you like Mournhold so far, cousin?” he asked, and she laughed and titled her head up to the sky, where birds flew in a wide arc home to roost.

   “It’s magic.”

[dumners]

my tes ocs

also known as, i focus way too much on the messy dunmer and sadly no one else

The Seryiils (+the Gimayns)

Just the most dramatic family in Tamriel

oh my god there’s so much for Llirala im so sorry

Indrasi S (nerevarine) 

Dunmer - Any pronouns (tho i’ll use they)

Actual reincarnation of Nerevar, and their repressed memories affect their life in ways they don’t realize until later. Born and raised in the Imperial City. Raised in an orphanage after being abandoned there by unknown parents. Grew up to be an alchemist in the city and ran the store The Main Ingredient. Met Raldis when he delivered ingredients, they grew closer and got married, and Indrasi took his last name bcuz they didn’t have one. The two have a daughter, Llirala. Raldis dies in a bandit raid when Llirala is 6, and afterwards, Indrasi becomes distant bcuz they are working to provide for Llirala. Llirala grows up making bad decisions in an attempt to get Indrasi to pay attention to her, which eventually leaves Llirala abandoning her newborn son, Calden, with Indrasi. They raise Calden, but rarely sees Llirala during that time. Eventually, they take on an apprentice at The Main Ingredient, Ogier Georick (the actual in-game owner). Calden grows up and goes out on his own. Llirala comes back after a lotta of her own nonsense. She ends up framing Indrasi for murder, which gets them noticed by Uriel Septim VII and sent to Morrowind. 

They really only do the Main Quest in Morrowind and maybe a few side quests, but no faction quests. They slowly get their Nerevar memories back during the course of the Main Quest. They then do the Tribunal and Bloodmoon dlcs in that order. During the Tribunal dlc they basically just ignore Helseth, and during the Bloodmoon dlc they side with the Skaal. They help build Raven Rock, and then just kinda never leave. They try to go through everything with as little death as possible. By 4E 201, they are still on Solstheim, drifting in and out of Raven Rock, hanging out with the Skaal, and mooching off of Neloth.

Raldis S

Dunmer - He/Him

Pretty chill dude, kinda unfortunate that he strongly resembles Voryn Dagoth, but what can you do. Born and raised in Gnisis. Later joined a Hlaalu trading company and made deliveries mainly to Cyrodiil. Met Indrasi on one of those deliveries. They became closer, eventually married, and had Llirala. He dies in a bandit raid when Llirala is 6.

Llirala S (hok)

Dunmer - She/Her (later Daedra - Any)

Ah, my favorite shithead. Born and raised in the Imperial City. Born to Indrasi and Raldis Seryiil. Raldis died when she was only 6, which caused Indrasi to throw themself into their work so they could support Llirala. Llirala grows up to be a self-destructive mess who keeps making bad decisions in an attempt to get Indrasi to pay attention to her, and this turns into her just craving any kind of attention from anyone. She had a fling with a friend that ended in her son, Calden, who she abandoned with Indrasi. She then proceeded to travel around Cyrodiil doing favors for basically every single Daedric Prince. She joined the Arena and killed her way to the top, loving every second of the validation from the crowd. Now with the idea that “murder is okay actually” in her head, she stabbed a man who catcalled her, and proceeded to frame Indrasi for the murder, killing two birds with one knife. This got her noticed by the Dark Brotherhood. She loved her time in the Brotherhood and loved her Family, and she killed them all when ordered to. This messed her up pretty badly, but she just went “if I keep my body moving and my mind occupied at all times, I will avoid falling into a bottomless pit of despair.” She managed to convince herself that she was fine bcuz she still had Shadowmere and Lucien. But then Lucien died, and Llirala killed Mathieu but it was too late bcuz everyone was still dead. Llirala basically had an epiphany like “oh, maybe killing is bad,” and she abandoned the Dark Brotherhood leaving it to fall into ruin. She joined the Thieves Guild and found out that she kinda liked helping people, but by the end she didn’t want to be the Grey Fox, so she gave the job to Armand Christophe. After that she bought shoes from the Copious Coinpurse and got arrested for grave-robbing.

Then the Main Quest happened, Llirala made some good friends in Martin and Baurus, and she constantly mocked Jauffre. I’m cliche and like angst so Llirala and Martin liked each other but didn’t say anything about it until right before Martin sacrificed himself, he kissed her. Yay cliche angst! When Dagon was breaking down the Temple roof, Llirala pushed Martin out of the way of falling rubble, but it ended up falling on her instead, breaking her leg and pinning her under it. Martin sacrificed himself, and Llirala was stuck under the rubble until someone showed up. Baurus helped get her out, and Jeelius healed her leg, but she wouldn’t be able to fight the way she used to, no more sneak. Llirala spent two depressed weeks in the Imperial Palace, before being presented with the Imperial Dragon Armor. She basically snapped and ran away again, leaving behind everything that could identify her as a the HoK. 

She threw herself back into adventuring in the hopes of getting herself killed. She did the KotN, but didn’t find any peace with the Nine, and left when that was over. Immediately after being resurrected, she left and went straight to Bravil, where she heard rumors about a door out in the Bay that no one came back from the same, if at all. Before leaving, she spoke to the Night Mother who called her out on constantly abandoning everything, and berated her for still having Shadowmere and the Blade of Woe despite leaving the Brotherhood. So before Llirala left for the door, she said goodbye to her oldest companion and sent her back to the Brotherhood with her Blade of Woe. 

In the Isles, Llirala fit in, but she kept refusing to acknowledge that. She killed the Gatekeeper despite it not attacking her, and she wielded a perfect order sword for the majority of it. She tended to pick Dementia when she had to make a choice bcuz she was too depressed to deal with the brightness of Mania. Over the course of the questline, she began to really love the residents of the Isles and by the time Sheogorath turned into Jyggalag, she refused to abandon the Isles bcuz she didn’t want everyone there to die. In the fight with the Tree Clone, her order sword shatters, so after that she wields a madness sword. She became Sheogorath with the thought that it wasn’t going to be permanent, so when Jyggalag disappears she’s left standing there like.

Calden S

Dunmer(+Altmer) - He/Him

Born from a fling between Llirala and one of her friends. Raised by Indrasi in the Imperial City. Practiced destruction magic mainly. Tried to join the Arcane University many times, but was always rejected. Later traveled to Skyrim to study at the College of Winterhold (pre-Collapse). Met his future wife, Nephelle, there. Great Collapse happened. Him and Nephelle have Viri, but Nephelle dies in childbirth (bcuz i need her gone and im lazy lol). Calden loses faith in his ability to raise Viri, and when she starts speaking a strange language (dovahzul) as a baby, Calden freaks out. He asks around, is pointed toward the Greybeards, and leaves baby Viri with them due to a lack of Indrasi to foist the kid onto. 

Calden just kinda fucks off after that, but if tes vi takes place within 100 years of tes v, then he’ll be the protag if it works.

Viri (ldb)

Dunmer - She/Her

Raised by the Greybeards. Grew up only being called Dragonborn, so she had to name herself. Got the name Viri from Akaviri. When she was 2, young (like 8) Ulfric arrived to be trained, so Viri grew up with him as an older brother*. Most of Viri’s childhood was spent training her Thu’um, and reading the books available. She became fascinated with magic and practiced what she could by herself. She had a strained relationship with the Greybeards, but was very close with Paarthurnax. When the Great War started, Ulfric left, and Viri tried to go with him, but she was like 12 so she couldn’t. Later, she ran away from High Hrothgar at 17, but the war had already ended. She spent some time in Ivarstead before going up to the College of Winterhold to study magic. During her time at the College, the whole Eye of Magnus business happened, but Mirabelle survived it. After a while, she tries to leave Skyrim to explore the rest of Tamriel, but she walked right into that Imperial ambush, same as us, and that thief over there. She does the Main Quest up until the point that most people break off, bcuz she does not want to go back to the Greybeards just yet. She does the Thieves Guild, becomes the Guildmaster and returns it to its former glory. She does the Dark Brotherhood bcuz she is trying to find the familial love she never had with the Greybeards, but she just ends up being a murderer with a weird ghost friend and a demon horse. Finally finishes the Main Quest, does not touch the Civil War. And through all those questlines she completes all the Daedric Quests for one reason or another. Then she does Dawnguard, sides with the Dawnguard, gets a vampire gf, and then that vampire gf leaves to see the world, but promises to return**. Then Viri goes to Solstheim. There she meets Indrasi and manages to convince them to help her rescue Miraak, bcuz she is sick and tired of playing into the hands of the Daedric Princes, and saving Miraak would be an excellent “fuck you” to Hermaeus Mora.

*i don’t like ulfric at all, but this creates an interesting dynamic.

**Serana just needs to figure out who she is in the Fourth Era away from Viri, bcuz she doesn’t want to end up constructing her whole life around her.

Sethesi (Seth) G (kinda silly* vestige)

Dunmer - She/Her

Seth is baby and I love her so much. I made her 15 bcuz I wanted to make a shonen protag, but I also made her a mage, so she’s also a magical girl, but I also made her a necromancer, so she’s a dark magical girl. She was born and raised in the Worm Cult with her older brother, Llondryn. She had a knack for necromancy, and never really saw a problem with it bcuz she was not immune to propaganda. Llondryn managed to convince her to leave the Cult with him, but on the way out, Llondryn tried to sacrifice himself to save just her, but she didn’t realize that was happening so she ended up saving Llondryn instead. The Cultists found her, and she ended up being sacrificed to Molag Bal as an example of what happens to traitors. Escapes Coldharbour, but ends up on the Daggerfall Covenant questline bcuz I think that one fits the Main Quest best. Seth spends most of the Main Quest hiding her necromancer origins and trying to pass herself off as a templar, but finally snaps during the fight with Mannimarco and reveals her true power. She also does the Fighters and Mages Guild quests during the Main Quest, but she’s much more fond of the Mages Guild. Basically everyone who interacts with Seth adopts her as a younger sister/daughter/niece bcuz she is baby. She does quests pretty normally, and always tries to save as many lives as possible. At some point she becomes a vampire as a “fuck you” to meridia, but I’m still considering when. She also abandons her morals after that and joins the Dark Brotherhood bcuz I really need her to do that questline*. I’m not actually done with everything in eso yet, so Seth’s progression might change.

Unless something happens to contradict this in eso, after eso, Seth just wanders around Tamriel, occasionally checking in on how the world is doing.

*I say kinda silly bcuz in the spirit of mmos I gave Seth a travelling party. However, that party is Indrasi, Llirala, and Viri after their games. Yeah, that’s kinda op but all of them are hiding their true abilities, and Llirala is just not at full power bcuz of the original sheo still being around. I’m doing this bcuz it is so funny to me, especially bcuz of how many references to those games there are. The reason they are there is bcuz Viri pulled some time travel bullshit. 

Llondryn G

He/Him

Born and raised in Worm Cult with younger sister, Sethesi. Never showed much aptitude for necromancy, which made him expendable. When people started getting executed, he convinced Sethesi to try to escape. While trying to escape, Sethesi sacrificed herself to let him escape. 

I don’t know what he does later, but he eventually has kids and the family tree eventually leads to Indrasi.

Unrelated - i dont have much on them :(

Korabi

Khajiit - They/Them

Mage. Travel partners with Andenyerinwe (the Oblivion Duo). Does the Oblivion Mages Guild quests.

Andenyerinwe (Andy)

Altmer - She/Her

Goes by Andy. Battle-ax wielding, heavy-armor wearing warrior. Travel partners with Korabi (the Oblivion Duo). Does the Oblivion Fighters Guild quests.

Laurri (blades hero)

Khajiit - She/Her

Uuuuhhhh....... idk..... she’s dating Saashi?? 

Haj-xo (serious ep vestige)

Argonian - She/Her

Shadowscale. I think it’s funny if she dates Naryu bcuz it’s like assassin romeo and juliet. Also that means Veya gets two murder moms.

Nhaz (serious dc vestige)

Redguard - They/Them

I need more on them. 

Mizar (serious ad vestige)

Khajiit - He/Him

I need more on him. But he is trans. I’m also not done with the Aldmeri Dominion quests yet.

[trickstarbrave]

why is it whenever i wanna write weird kinky smut i gotta have at least 5+ fucking pages of exposition and world building before i fucking get to it.

anyways here is from the concubine au (nerevar and voryn will have to fake being lord and concubine for Reasons)

warning for sexual assault mentioned, slavery, injuries. nothing is directly shown except for proof of it. abuser gets killed tho

--

Voryn sat on the comfortable cushions, making small talk with Anaryl Dres, a lord of House Dres. Voryn was quite good with making small talk, acting as though he was speaking to a prospective southern lord to establish a trade of a sizable amount of saltrice in exchange for many dwemer goods, something of value unique to House Dagoth. 

In reality though, Voryn was as tense as he had been in some time. 

He had been chasing false lead after false lead, reaching dead end after dead end for two gods damn years. Nerevar claimed he wanted to go south and look for work from another house after he and Gilvoth got into a particularly bad altercation that resulted in half the town’s guards harassing Neht afterwards on Gilvoth’s orders. Voryn had assured him he dealt with the problem as needed, but Nerevar brushed him off and insisted it would be for the best. 

After several weeks, Nerevar stopped responding. Voryn, overcome with anxiety despite his brothers assuring him it was probably just some lost letters, went to his residence, only to find it empty. 

Certainly people going missing in Resdayn wasn’t new. The land was harsh and strangers were not kind nor sympathetic. You either survived, or you didn’t. Nerevar, however, wasn’t weak enough to be killed by some stray cliff racer and left to die in the wilderness. He was strong, sensible, and headstrong. Voryn knew better, and that if he wanted to find Nerevar, he needed to do it with his own resources because guards and other houses would not help him. 

This time it looked like a promising lead. Anaryl Dres was normally pretty reserved and secretive, but drunkenly bragged about his new concubine. Only a few details could be gleaned before he left the party: said concubine was a man who was originally born and raised as a girl, the concubine was only half chimer, was supposed to be sold into slavery by his house but was ‘hidden away’ until discovered again, and was very disobedient. 

It was a dead ringer for Nerevar: a half blood chimer from House Mora, a lesser house that sold many mixed race children into slavery by order of the Ra’athim clan who resented being ousted from their city by nords. Nerevar also originally grew up as a girl, something Voryn personally went out of his way to correct as Nerevar wished. And lastly, Nerevar would not be broken even after two years of enslavement. After prodding for more answers, all Anaryl would reveal is that his concubine had white hair and scar-tattoos, but those were quite common for many in House Mora. 

A servant came in, bowing respectfully to Voryn. Voryn turned to give her his attention, as she came close to his ear, speaking low as to be respectful, but loud enough that it didn’t seem secretive. 

“I spotted the tea set you asked of me, Lord Dagoth.” She said low, not missing a beat. “I purchased it, as per your request.” It wasn’t uncommon for nobles from Vvardenfell to shop in larger cities while doing business on the mainland. Especially for a house as remote as House Dagoth, it would be expected he’d send servants to procure various items while he met and spoke with other nobles. But this was more than a servant who had been out shopping for their lord: this was actually a spy he sent to check the residence, and was answering in code. 

They had indeed found Nerevar after so long of searching. Voryn could almost smile with pure delight, his heart racing in his chest. Nerevar was here. Soon, he’d have Nerevar back in the safety of Kogoruhn’s walls. But for now, he needed to continue the act. Just a bit more. 

“Very good.” Voryn replied dryly, sipping the trama root tea in his cup. The liquid was far too bitter for his tastes, but he was a master at controlling his expressions when he had to. “And the others…?” He asked, looking at the servant skeptically. 

“Most of the others on your list were purchased, Lord Dagoth. The other servants are taking them to the propylon chamber and to Kogoruhn.” 

Translation: most of the guards in the rest of the manor were paid off in full and the ones who refused were killed. Any and all documents relating to Nerevar were secured in the manor. All that was left was getting Nerevar out of there, after which the Morag Tong would come in immediately after his exit and the Dres lord and his remaining guards who were present in the room with them.

Voryn held back a sinister smile. He waited a few moments, before sighing. 

“I suppose it is getting late.” Voryn looked annoyed at the prospect of leaving. 

“Oh, Lord Dagoth, there is still so much to discuss.” Anaryl looked positively giddy. No doubt he was getting sick pleasure from the idea he was holding Voryn’s closest friend prisoner right under the mer’s nose, ignorant that his life would soon be over for such an offense. 

“It’s not as though we need to iron out all of the details in one sitting.” Voryn replied, finishing his cup of tea. “We can meet again in a week’s time. I’ll bring some of the metal and artifacts for you to see for yourself.” Voryn gave a polite smile as he rose to his feet. “I think that would be even more helpful to our agreement.” 

“Oh, absolutely.” He was still grinning far too wide. The man would be horrible at cards, as Nerevar would say. Absolutely too over eager and bragging with his face. “Don’t be afraid to contact one of my servants, Lord Dagoth. We have plenty of saltrice to go around, after all.” 

“I’ll send word about our next meeting soon.” Voryn lied, as he left through the door. As soon as the door was shut, he couldn’t help but finally smirk softly. 

After an hour, Voryn returned to the residence. The sun had nearly set by now, Azura’s hour fading away and the stars beginning to twinkle. He entered from the back door, knowing he wouldn't be spotted. 

Sure enough, the noble was dead on the ground, his throat slit. Of the few remaining guards who were nearby, three were dead and the others no doubt refused to fight seeing the attackers were from the guild. Normally it would be hard to kill even a lesser lord of a Great House, but it seems Anaryl was not well liked by his employees or most higher members of House Dres. 

Now free to move about as he pleased, Voryn stepped around the blood and walked upstairs, paying the gore and death in the sitting room little regard. Servants quietly filed in after him, taking all documents related to his visit with them as well in an effort to cover his tracks. Voryn was, if anything, thorough. 

Up the stairs, a spy waited at a door, signaling it was the room Nerevar was in. Voryn paused briefly outside it, his excitement now turning to nervousness. He was terrified of what he might see, what state Nerevar might be in. Had he heard the killing downstairs? Was he badly injured or starved? What if he was furious that Voryn took so long to save him? 

Still, Voryn couldn’t wait forever. He took a deep breath and opened the door, his eyes immediately falling on the figure laying on a plush pile of pillows, completely unconscious. An elf, golden skinned with long white hair was dressed in gauzy fabric and cheap jewelry, a pipe laying on the floor nearby. A sickly sweet scent clung to the air, a sure sign someone was recently smoking skooma. Their chest rose and fell, their face partially obscured. 

Voryn took a hesitant step forward. Then another. And another. He could barely believe his eyes, as he finally took in the figure’s face, relief washing over him. 

“Nerevar…” He breathed out, sinking to his knees. “I finally found you.” 

Nerevar had gotten thinner, not to mention lighter. No doubt he couldn’t use his muscles properly being confined like this. He had dark circles under his eyes too, and from what skin was showing Voryn could see bruises on his limbs and neck. Love bites, kicks, punches, even hand marks from strangulation. It was enough to make Voryn want to commit necromancy just to kill the bastard himself over and over again. 

“Neht,” Voryn’s voice dipped to a soft, tender tone as he gingerly shook Nerevar’s shoulder. “Wake up.” He was afraid of shaking too much, terrified he might accidentally aggravate an injury he couldn’t see. It was a stark contrast to how he was with Nerevar as his guard--back then Nerevar seemed so proud and strong, like nothing could truly topple him. Now though he looked delicate and fragile, something Voryn was terrified of breaking. 

“Mm?” Nerevar’s eyes cracked open. His eyes looked hazy, red and irritated but with his pupils blown wide. “... Voryn~!” Nerevar’s face broke out into a giddy smile as he threw his arms around Voryn’s shoulders, tugging the other chimer into a hug. “Mm… I missed you~” Nerevar purred low, before erupting into giggles. 

Voryn gave a heavy sigh, trying to untangle himself from Nerevar’s arms. He was hoping that Nerevar wasn’t intoxicated, but it seemed that wasn’t the case. Regardless, it wouldn’t be hard to leave with Neht and return to Kogoruhn where he could be treated properly. 

“I missed you too.” Voryn replied, finally freed from Nerevar’s grasp. “But I’m here to bring you back with me to Kogoruhn.” Nerevar’s eyes couldn’t focus properly, darting around whenever they were opened. 

“‘M tired…” Nerevar mumbled, sinking back into the cushions. Voryn gave another sigh, reminding himself this wasn’t Nerevar’s fault. 

“I know, Neht.” Voryn stroked some of his hair out of his face. “You can sleep once we get home.” 

Home. Where Nerevar belonged. In the nice, soft bed in the room right next to Voryn’s. The room Voryn kept in perfect condition with most of Nerevar’s belongings still inside it, waiting for the day he could bring Nerevar back. 

A guard of House Dagoth carried him, after Voryn wrapped him with a cloak to conceal his appearance. Then it was just a matter of getting to the propylon chamber and back to his stronghold. They could put all this mess behind them.

[wellthebardsdead]

To deny Godhood final pt2 (FINAL!)

Final part1 here

———

Assassin: *holding Shamat over his shoulder as he practically flies through the temple, dodging the chaos unfolding around him* It’s lovely to finally meet you again friend!

Shamat: I? Meet me again? We’ve met before?!

Assassin: in another life yes- shit. *freezes in his tracks as several ordinators block his path* cover your ears Shamat. *holds up his hand as arcane godly energy crackles through his finger tips, ready to eradicate them-

*dragons roaring*

Shamat: huh? *clings onto the assassin in fright as the wall is suddenly bashed open by the head of a very familiar red dragon*

Odahviing: *opens his maw wide releasing a torrent of frost and freezing the ordinators solid before pulling away and flying to the balcony* I AWAIT YOU DOVAHKIIN!

Asssassin: well that solved that the-

Nerevar: THERE YOU ARE!!

Shamat: *looks up to see the chimer charging to them with his sword ready and fury in his eyes* oh shit- *quickly pulls off his mask and flings it like a frisbee at him knocking him clean in the face temporarily stunning him*

Assassin: great aim! See you’re dropping the act then! *jumps over the frozen bodies and rubble and takes off up the stairs and to the rooftop balcony where a familiar dunmer shaped dwemer automaton stands waiting as dragons circle overhead* Seht! Quickly take hi- *silenced as his head is severed from his shoulders, drops Shamat as his body slumps to the ground*

Shamat: *coughs as he hits the ground beside the now seemingly dead assassins body* ugh- ngh!?

Nerevar: *picks him up and holds his sword to his throat, face bleeding where his mask struck him* you- you tricked me. YOU TRICKED ME!!!

Sotha sil: *gears turning as he steps forward* nerevar see reason don’t hurt hi-

Nerevar: *holds Shamat by his hair, the sword pressing against his skin threatening to slice it* Don’t. Come any closer.

Sotha Sil: *holds still* Nerevar. You don’t want to do this.

Nerevar: *laughs* I should have known you were behind this! I should have known you and that bastard vivec would find some way to ruin my life again! I should have known you’d try to take my voryn away from me again!

Shamat: *trembling, trying to pull away from the blade* I’m not your voryn-

Nerevar: *finally lost it* SHUT UP! SHUT. UP! *pulls his hair back harder* We are getting married Voryn! You’ll remember who you are! *points the sword at the automaton* call off your army now. Call them off!

Sotha Sil: *glances at him… then at the assassin behind him, slowly pulling his head back onto his shoulders and rising to his feet* They are not under my command. They will not yield to me.

Nerevar: who are they loyal to then?! Tell me!

Sotha Sil: the dragonborn.

Nerevar: The Dra- *goes silent as a familiar, painful sensation fills his body, as a very familiar spear punctures through his back and out his chest… in the very same spot it did hundreds of years prior* y-you-

Vivec: *face now free from the chitin helmet and covered in his own blood* this is familiar isn’t it? Moon and star?… *twists it making the chimer choke up blood and drop his blade, releasing Shamat from his grip*

Nerevar: *eyes wide, tearfully staring at Shamat as the dunmer runs to sotha sils side* you… you’re n-ngh- *spits up more blood* you’re not, m-my voryn… *goes limp against the spear as his life finally gives out*

Shamat: it’s… it’s over… *looks up as hundreds of dragons swarm the sky’s like cliff racers. And one very serpentine like one amongst them, Sahrotaar… and on his back a very familiar figure*

Miraak: *glances down to see his friend, finally safe and free* Sahrotaar. Rally the dragons. It’s time to take him home…

Sahrotaar: *nods and roars out a rallying cry to the other dragons as he flies over the temple*

Sotha Sil: *watches them go before looking at vivec, then at nerevars now lifeless body* …

Vivec: *looks at him, then at Shamat, giving a quiet, but understanding nod of what they must do*

Shamat: … *turns his face back to the sky and lets his voice loose for the first time in so long* ODAHVIING!!!

———

Shamat: *staring down at the alien lands of morrowind, the ashen breeze blowing through his hair as they glide over red mountain on the back of odahviing* this is… goodbye then…

Vivec: *holding nerevars body, now wrapped in a burial shroud* it would seem so.

Sotha Sil: it is time we ascended finally… our business is done at last. We have walked our waking dream…

Vivec: *smiles and gently pats shamats shoulder, before handing him his muatra* I’m glad to have met you. Shamat, the dragonborn. *looks down to the volcano below* … *holds nerevars body tight before looking to sotha sil*

Sotha sil: *emerges from his automaton body, his ghostly face smiling back at him with a slight nod* …

Vivec: *nods and closes his eyes before jumping from the dragon, and into the volcano below, sotha sil jumping after him just moments later*

Shamat: *holds back tears watching them fall and disappear into the lava* …goodb- huh? *pauses watching as beams of light suddenly rise up from the mountain, one blue and gold, the other silver and copper, as vivec & sil finally ascend… and following after them, two spirits, both vaguely elven in appearance… one with 3 eyes, and the other with two… both embracing each other as they fly up and disappear into the ashen clouds* heh… *smiles tearfully* I’m glad… you found your voryn…

*a few days later*

Kaidan: *pacing around Neloths tower as irileth watches him go back and forth* I haven’t heard anything from them.

Irileth: I trust in my brothers and sisters of the tong… they’ll get him back here safe… besides. They have vivec and sotha sil to help them… and the other dragonborn.

Kaidan: when were you planning on telling me you were a member of the morag tong by the way ay?! How does a former assassin become the right hand woman to a Jarl?!

Irileth: I wasn’t planning on it. When were you going to tell me there’s TWO dragonborns now?

Kaidan: I- um. That’s fair-

Neloth: Shh. *pauses looking around curiously*

Everyone: *falls silent* …

*Dragons roaring in the distance*

Neloth: …Theyre back.

*meanwhile*

Shamat: *riding on the back of odahviing, Miraak flying beside him on Sahrotaar* I’m free…

[tonal-modulator]

Meet the OC: Ildari Llothri

Role: Nerevarine, Hero of Kvatch

Race: Dunmer

Born: 13 Rain's Hand (The Mage) 3E 400 (26-27 at the time of Morrowind) (Note: 13th of Rain's hand is the Day of the Dead, at least in Daggerfall. From UESP: "The superstitious say that the dead rise on this holiday to wreak vengeance on the living.")

Class: Artificer (primarily an enchanter; officially a stealth focus, with strong magic influence)

(This bio was written before she defeated Dagoth Ur. I still have to take her through the Tribunal DLC, but I already started her Oblivion campaign because I have no patience and I’m just playing on the assumption that she has already done the Tribunal stuff by the time she gets back to Cyrodiil.)

Ildari was born in the Imperial City to Telvanni mages from Vvardenfell who had come to Cyrodiil in 3E 397 at the suggestion of their friend and former mentor. Said friend had made the trip a few years earlier in the hopes of broadening her horizons beyond the insular and at times old-fashioned Telvanni style of magic. While she had planned to spend a year at most in Cyrodiil, she found that there was much more to learn than she had expected, and ended up extending her stay indefinitely. Ildari's parents had just gotten married and were excited to start their lives together. As much as they loved Morrowind, they were also at times unsatisfied with their House's resistance to progress, and they were worried that it might not be the best place to raise kids if they should have any, because of the growing Blight and the way the Tribunal seemed to be growing weaker and less able to protect the people, and so they took their mentor's advice and moved to Cyrodiil.

They disappeared shortly after Ildari was born in 3E 400. The circumstances surrounding their disappearance were somewhat murky, at least to Ildari. No one seemed quite sure if they were arrested or killed—or, if they did know, they wouldn't tell her—only that it had to do with alleged "anti-Imperial activities." But from what Ildari could gather, while her parents may have had no love for the Empire, the accusations were unjust and based on stereotypes of Vvardenfell Dunmer (particularly Telvanni).

Her parents' friend who had invited them to Cyrodiil ended up raising Ildari as though she were her own child, and Ildari came to know her as her mother. She made sure Ildari received a good education with strong magical training, which was not difficult in the Imperial City, and that she had plenty of room to explore her interests.

But Ildari was at times concerned because of how little she knew of her own background. She had never been to Morrowind or seen its legendary mushroom towers. She spoke Dunmeris only on occasion and often substituted in Aldmeris words or constructions by accident. Although she (thankfully) wasn't so disconnected as to be raised to worship the Nine, she also had only a vague familiarity with the Tribunal from the occasional passing mention, often in the form of a malediction, and she likewise made no strong distinction between "good" and "bad" Daedra, instead being wary of all Daedra and believing it best to stay away from them altogether. She knew next to nothing about her biological parents; her mother preferred not to talk about them, claiming that to do so might attract unwanted attention. Ildari assumed that the preference really came more from her mother's deep sense of guilt for convincing her friends to come to Cyrodiil in the first place, but the concerns about attracting attention were also probably valid, and Ildari was definitely not going to push. After all, her mother had knowingly taken in the child of alleged enemies of the state, to whom she had close ties. They were most likely already under more scrutiny than they cared to imagine.

Ildari found that magic suited her interests well, although she also had a somewhat odd talent for influencing people. She wasn't even particularly comfortable talking to people, but they seemed willing to agree with her and follow her suggestions or requests to a degree that some found suspicious. In reality, she even found it a little unsettling herself. So she spent most of her time away from people, which suited her perfectly well, as it allowed her to pursue her interests in peace.

Then one day, a local mage was killed. Ildari didn't know him well; he studied at the Arcane University, and she had met him once or twice in passing, but they had never even had an actual conversation. Unfortunate as it was, everyone expected it to blow over quickly, until it became known that he was actually a Blades agent. Then the rumors began to fly, and Ildari, with her persuasive (now being called "manipulative") ways and traitor parents, found herself at the center of the suspicion.

Of course, she had no strong alibi, as she spent most of her time away from anyone who could vouch for her, and before she knew it, she was sitting in a cell in the Imperial City Prison. Then, a few months later, she was on a boat to the East, to Morrowind...

Naturally, she had no desire to work with the Empire on whatever it was that they were planning for her, and so when a mer waiting outside the Census and Excise office offered her an alternative, she was quick to take advantage of the opportunity. It also didn't hurt that the interested party was a Telvanni Master, as she figured this would be a good opportunity to finally get formally enrolled in the House she was born into.

She also joined the Tribunal Temple shortly after she arrived in Morrowind, mostly because she wanted to learn more about this land of her ancestors, and frankly, because she wanted to fit in. But she found herself more interested than she had expected in the history of the Tribunal, with almost a vague familiarity, as though she should know everything about them even before their apotheosis. It was a similar feeling that accompanied the nightmares she would occasionally have about the man in the golden mask (who she eventually learned was the evil immortal enemy of the Tribunal, Dagoth Ur).

Ildari didn't know what to think when she learned about the Nerevarine prophecies, much less that she supposedly might have the look of fulfilling them. Her skepticism was only alleviated somewhat by the third trial, when Azura spoke to her and called her the Nerevarine, and she was able to put on Moon-and-Star without dying. But even then, she remained uncertain, as it wasn't exactly easy or ethical to "prove" that the ring would kill everyone else.

Her meeting with Vivec was the turning point. The moment she saw hir floating there in the temple, the memories came flooding back with such intensity that she couldn't even see or feel her surroundings—Vehk had to come down from hir floaty perch and support her to keep her from falling. All at once, she was remembering her life as Nerevar, and her lives as all of the Incarnates before her (at least, the ones who were actually failed Incarnates, not just random people who had claimed to be them). She remembered Vivec, really remembered hir from her first life, and Almalexia—her wife, how could she have forgotten her wife?—and Sotha Sil, and Voryn Dagoth, and how much she loved them. She remembered the Tribunal's broken oath, how she had hoped beyond hope that their honor and their love for her would be strong enough to resist the pull of the profane tools, and how they may as well have smashed her heart with Sunder for how much it hurt, even from Moonshadow, but wishing Azura would have mercy all the same. And she remembered the first time she had to fight Voryn, the soul-wrenching feeling of taking up arms against him, how Trueflame trembled in her grip as she begged him to listen to reason, and it made his present campaign that much more painful, and more personal.

When her mind cleared up enough to process her environment, she realized she was sobbing into Vehk's shoulder. So many memories, so much life and emotion, it was hard to deal with all at once. Their meeting ended up lasting much longer than anticipated. She even ended up spending the night in an old and no-longer-used quarters in the temple, because they had so much to discuss and she had so much to process that it couldn't all be done in one sitting. (Really, they hadn't seen each other in well over 3,000 years; they had a lot of catching up to do.) By the time she left, they were both convinced of her role, and she had a new sense of purpose moving forward. This was no longer about faceless gods and vague legends and a secret dead House. It wasn't even about Azura, though she wouldn't dare say that out loud. It was personal. She had united the Dunmer as Hortator and Nerevarine, and now she would fulfill her duty. She would recover the Tools of Kagrenac, eat the sin of House Dagoth, face Voryn one final time, free the Tribunal from the Heart of Lorkhan and end the Blight on Morrowind.

But for all the grandeur of the legends, it didn't feel very heroic. To the people of Morrowind, the ALMSIVI were their immortal gods, receiving their worship and prayer for thousands of years. Dagoth Ur was a caricaturized figure of evil, more of a concept than a person. But to Ildari? To Nerevar? They were her closest friends. Dagoth Ur was her Voryn, her trusted advisor, her loyal friend. ALM, the Merciful Healing Mother, was her Ayem, her wife and her friend, at once noble, fierce, loving, and goofy. Their marriage may have been for political purposes, but their friendship was full of enough love to make up for it. SI, the Father of Mysteries, was her Seht, her friend and teacher, quiet, contemplative, patient, and incredibly caring. VI, the Warrior-Poet, was her Vehk, her friend and companion and protégé, buoyant, shrewd, and at times frighteningly discerning. They were her advisors, and she was their Hortator, their Neht—or maybe their Iya now—and she loved them all so much. Going on a campaign to defeat the Sharmat was one thing. But she was going off to kill one of her closest friends. Again. And in the process, the rest of her closest friends might just die too. Vehk assured her that they understood and were willing to take that risk, but they had had thousands of years to prepare. Was she willing to take that risk? Broken oath or no, they were all she had. She had just gotten them back, and now she had to accept that one was irredeemable, and the other three might also be lost, all over again.

That was just it, though. She had to accept it. She was Ildari, some mer born under a certain sign to uncertain parents who found her way to Morrowind through a series of misunderstandings, but she was also Indoril Nerevar, "Saint" Nerevar, Nerevar Moon-and-Star, hero of legend. The Tribes had named her Nerevarine, and the Houses had named her Hortator, and the people of Morrowind were relying on her to end the Blight. It was her duty and her destiny, and she would not let them down.