#Shrine Of Azura

[helgiafterdark]

[sukitra]

. . . . . . . . . . . .Shrine of Azura. . . . . . . . . . . . .

[hircines-hunter]

Shrine of Azura

[adorkable-dolly]

[kaerakapten88]

[umbracirrus]

Skyrim pathfinding is so interesting and strange at times. I've been using clairvoyance and not bothering with fast travel just to see where it takes me. Sometimes it takes me to my destination using routes I'm used to. Sometimes it decides to take me down a path over never seen before and see some new things! Sometimes, it makes me leave the path, just to make me do an almost complete 180 and go back to it! And sometimes, it just decides that I need that detour to Dawnstar, which is most certainly Not on the route.

[anxiouswizardart]

Shrine of Azura

[elderscrollsconceptart]

Shrine of Azura

Wallpaper for The Elder Scrolls III: Morrowind

*Credit Unknown* If anyone knows the specific dev to credit comment below

[recreating-reality]

This is so beautiful can we please build Winterhold irl

Winterhold in Unreal Engine 5 by Leo Torres

[halfwayriight]

Shrine of Azura

[helgiafterdark]

[mistressofduskanddawn]

Household Worship Of Azura

[IMG ID: A shrine of Azura from Raven Rock in the Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim, Dragonborn DLC. The shrine is set upon stone, circular, with candles around an image dedicated to Azura. At the top of the image is a star, with a skull below it, then trailed streaks of black. Before the image are some offerings of gems, a coinpurse, fruits, and vegetation to Azura. It is simple, but beautiful.]

THE DAEDRA, IN SOME ASPECTS OF TESLORE, ARE SPOKEN OF BEING FOUND IN THE DANGEROUS WILDS OF NIRN. Daedra worship within itself is controversial in Tamriel, sometimes inconsistently so, for they are often considered more dangerous than the Aedra. In a way this is true, the Daedra are more present than the Aedra, but the Aedra still may cause harm. My dear Kyne, even if she is a kind mother, rules over the storms that destroy. Eventually, I will cover the cut content that shades the worship of the Aedra in favour of Daedra, instead of the usual anti-Daedric worship that the Aedra-loving lore often proclaims.

Household worship of the Daedra seems to depend on the culture: while there are shrines within some Dnemeri households, outside of the realm of traditional worship, many of the daedra appear to be kept from cities—especially in Skyrim, where nearly all the centres of worship for Daedra are outside the strong-walled holds. She out of all of the Daedra appears to be the closest to cities and the likes, but her temple still stands outside Winterhold in Skyrim. 

On Earth, however, we can hopefully worship our deities within our own homes. Azura integrates herself well into the home, providing all her bounty, especially in liminal protection from the dangers of the beyond. 

MODERN HERETICS ON AZURA

I was inspired by doing my scholarly research on Azura as usual, when I re-read a passage on Daedra worship in lore that provided a much more realistic perspective: that on Daedric cults and their actions, without the usual gore and harm that permeates the discussion of Daedra. A portion of the passage Modern Heretics inspired this post, with it focusing on Azura in the majority of the text: 

I personally have discovered one community worshipping theDaedra LordAzura, Queen of Dawn and Dusk. A researcher curious about Daedra worship might research in several ways: through a study of the literature, through exploration and discovery of ancient daedric shrines, through questioning local informants, and through questioning worshippers themselves. I used all these means to discover the shrine of Azura.

First I read books. References like this one may provide a helpful general background concerning Daedric shrines. For example, my researches led me to understand that, in Cyrodiil, Daedric shrines are generally represented by statues of Daedra Lords, are generally situated in wilderness locations far from settlements, that each shrine generally has associated with it a community of worshippers, often referred to as a ‘coven’, that shrines have associated with them a particular time — often a day of the week — when a Daedra lord might be solicited, that Daedra Lord often will not deign to respond unless they regard a petitioner of sufficient prowess or strength of character, that they will only respond if given the proper offering [the secret of which offering often known only to the community of worshippers], and that, in return for the completion of some task or service, the Daedra Lords will often undertake to offer an artifact of power to a successful quester. Then I questioned locals with an intimate knowledge of the wilderness. Two classes of informants I found especially useful — well-traveled hunters and adventurers [who might come across shrines in their travels], and scholars of the Mages Guild. In the case of the Shrine of Azura, both sources were profitable. I discovered aCheydinhal hunter who had chanced across a strange epic statue in his travels. The statue was of a woman with outstretched arms; in one hand she held a star; in the other hand, she held a crescent moon. He had shunned the statue out of superstitious fear, but had marked the location in memory –far north of Cheydinhal, northwest ofLake Arrius, high in theJerall Mountains. Then, proceeding to the local Mages Guild with a description of the statue, I was able to confirm from its description the identity of the Daedra Lord worshipped. Having discovered the location of the shrine, I visited it, and discovered there the community of worshippers. Because of the strength of opinion against Daedra worship, the worshippers were, at first, reluctant to admit their identity. But once I had won their trust, they were willing to divulge to me the secrets of the times when Azura would hear petitions [from dusk to dawn], and that the offering required by Azura wasglow dust, a substance obtained from thewill-o-the-wisp. I am, of course, nothing more than a chapelman and scholar, so it did not lie within my power to find a will-o-the-wisp to obtain glow dust; nor am I certain that Azura would have found me worthy to make such an offering, even had I proffered it. But I was assured that if I had been able to make such an offering, and if it had been accepted, Azura would have given me some sort of quest, which, if completed, might have earned me the reward of Azura’s Star, a Daedric artifact of legendary magical powers.

—Modern Herctics, Haderus of Gottlesfont in Oblivion and ESO.

Undoubtedly the outlawing of Daedra worship is what drew these worshippers into hiding, with the daedra often being seen as dangerous and taboo. I cannot help, as others have noted, that this sounds very much so like paganism. Hiding in covens deep within secret locations, petitioning beings outlawed by common society—the Daedra seem to be coded in such a manner, even if the traditional religions of Tamriel are all polytheistic. The usage of coven also draws my eye—almost relating it to this world’s traditional witchcraft circles, in which a figure, often the Witchfather, is petitioned and met with those seeking something. Often power, as those in these covens seem to commonly pursue. 

Living on Earth does afford the ability to not have to necessarily hide my Azura worship, even if it is something I naturally keep on the quieter side. Among other pagans it is acceptable, sometimes even adored, to be following a goddess from Nirn. While it would be fun to pursue a shrine in the woods to her, it is a comfort to invite the Lady of Dusk and Dawn into my home instead. 

HOUSEHOLD WORSHIP OF AZURA

Household worship has become a norm for pagans, as we are often separated by space and time, and often alone. Praying alone in the home is the standard for most of us, even if we can visit the woods and go deep into dredges to find our gods. The Aedra have handmade shrines designated for home usage within Skyrim, but of course, none for the Daedra without mods. While Wintersun provides a way to express devotion to Azura, it does not fulfil every aspect there is to being a worshipper of a deity in Tamriel. 

To worship Azura in the home, it is as easy as a prayer and some offerings. I do prefer to bring my offers outside before Dawn and Dusk, but prayer can be anywhere. Beyond the title however, once again drawing from my background in Mediterranean religion, I believe that there is more to Azura’s household power than simply placing her within the hearth shrine. 

Prayer to Azura For Home Protection 

Azura’s liminality lends well to a protective goddess. Liminal deities such as Hekate are often invoked to remove spirits as much as to bring them forth, and considering her star, Azura has some sway over souls. To keep spirits from the home, speak this prayer:

AZURA of the Crimson Gate, Rose-bound,  she who wards away spirits amore,  kismet in your designs. Let your silver starlight  grace the doors of my home and  let your dawn and dusk appraise the walls.  Ward the dwellings I as your people call home, As once you did before, and shall do, Again into your liminal passages evermore. 

Prayer to Azura To Banish A Malicious Being 

As a goddess who loves her followers dearly, Azura is more than happy to exercise her power over lesser beings from her world and beyond. To ward off entities who would harm your home, place a statue of Azura by the door and or place an image of her symbol to warn. If a malicious being manages to sneak past the wards and locks, speak this prayer to tell Azura of the spirit that evaded every protection placed. 

AZURA, she of OBLIVION beyond, There is a demon who haunts these halls, A trespasser, unwelcome, unfound, within This home of this worshipper yours.  Roses bloom for your love and command, And here comes this foul being to destroy  The buds containing your altar anew. So come, Azura, the warden of the home  Who blesses with silver and beauty untold Banish them with binds of silver and red, Rim of all holes, to the halls beyond the dead. 

Prayer to Azura To Ward Locks 

As the rim of all holes and possibly enemy of Nocturnal, I see no reason why Azura could not ward a lock against thieves and trespassers who would seek to steal and harm the home. Speak this prayer to her to ward locks against such intrusions, less they face her deserved wrath. 

The night invites holy Nocturnal’s surmise   devotee Thieves speech under her blessings, to come  And rid my locks of the silver we both endure.  Transition the path of stars and light, Banish thieves and tricksters from my home goodnight  Let fate be woven ever so, ward these locks untold  So that Nocturnal may dance in another hearth tonight, And we rest under your lilac Twilight delight. Rim of all holds, master of keys and lock-holes, Azura, ward my locks, let no lockpick be turned, Azura, Azura, the mistress of liminality foretold! 

I do wonder what those people in Tamriel would have thought, seeing as I can freely honour our goddess within my own home. She is a wonderful goddess, kind and caring with her love understanding. Foretold or not, she is a rose-hearted gift to any hearth who seeks her name. In order for our popculture religion to survive in this world, it must be met on the terms of our lives and heart, and household worship is the step before even considering the likes of temples or communal ritual.

References

Lore:Modern Heretics – The Unofficial Elder Scrolls Pages (UESP). (n.d.). https://en.uesp.net/wiki/Lore:Modern_Heretics

Parker, R. C. (2011). On Greek religion. Cornell University Press.

[illumiera]

a new moon rises

or: there is a loom upon which the fate of every mortal is woven, and she who works it is Azura's blessed and cursed all at once. pre-i fear no fate (for you are my fate), 801 words

Near a small island somewhere off the coast of Akavir, the sea glows as though brimming with a galaxy of drowned stars. Stepping onto its shores feels like stepping beyond time entirely, like yesterday and today have fallen away in favour of a breathless, everlasting tomorrow. It feels like a crossing-over, like a journey from death-touched to deathless, and Ilmarenya—Ilmarenya cannot be certain if the salt-haired woman climbing out of the little boat is still Ilmarenya, but she knows that she must try to be nonetheless.

Nerevar—silent now, but he will come if she calls, whether as sound or as a shadow—has never required it of her. Nor has fate, which cares nothing for the name or face she wears as long as she treads the path it unfurls before her.

But her son and his father can have no other, and so Ilmarenya she must remain.

Azura stands at the base of the island’s single mountain. All the art, the statues, the carvings Ilmarenya’s fingers have traced at every shrine—they depict her as the star-touched night with a string of constellations for her girdle, but the Prince of the In-Between is never quite the same. Sometimes, she comes as midnight given body, or the wine-dark of gloaming, or flame-streaked sundown, or the golden hour moving through the air like a dream. Now, at the end—or the beginning—of all things, she is as beautiful and terrible as the dawn, and her skin is lit from within beneath a gauzy gown dyed the precise pink of early summer roses.

“Are you ready, my Moon-and-Star?” Azura asks, and her voice is uncharacteristically soft.

Ilmarenya draws herself to her full height and meets the unblinking burning dusk-dawn of the goddess’ eyes. What passes between them is nothing short of a challenge: Remember our bargain, my lady. I will give you—give Morrowind—my whole body if I must, but never that which I formed within it, never my son. Only when Ilmarenya is satisfied does she at last permit herself a single nod.

“Then come, Ilmarenya Ara’dayn.”

The goddess’ hands are warm, soft, and yet fetter-firm as they close around her own. When the Daedric Prince of Dusk and Dawn leans in and presses her mouth to hers, so too are her lips.

—past—

—present—

—future—

—past-present-future-past-present-future-past-present-future-past—

It beats in her heart, in her head, in her soul like a doom-drum, Il-ma-ren-ya to the thundering of her pulse, and with the taste of roses and crystal sugar on her tongue, Ilmarenya sees.

Sees the spinning of the Wheel, the never-ending weaving of the loom her own hands must guide. Sees the sevenfold stories carved out by the strides of the Brass Tower, the breaking of the dragon, the wandering of the Soulless One, the making and dying of saints and soldiers alike. Sees the many paths of the world, of the worlds, of Ilmarenyas whose disparate choices tangle like caught threads, of Nerevarines who bear another name and face and fate, and sees—

Lliryn.

The image of her son is a beacon, a lodestar amidst it all. Lliryn growing—and she will not be there—into a lanky-legged young man with her nose and his father’s crow-feather curls. Lliryn the wizard’s apprentice, a scion of House Telvanni through and through, and a ghost to a father who sees only her when he looks into his face. Lliryn leaving to find her, and Lliryn collared and chained and seared from the inside out of everything that was hers, and then the fire and the wrath of their ancestors and the wrath of Nerevar come again, and Lliryn in the heart of the blaze with his chin tilted up to the moons-and-stars in prayer, in thanks, and then—

—and then she sees the First with his crown of storms, or the thrice-blessed Last with a healer’s bloody hands, or perhaps both at once, and either way, she cannot see her son, cannot see past the mess of thread that a Hero leaves in their wake. Dead, alive, a thrall of another kind—she can see everything, but not the most precious thing, not the one thing she needs to see.

Ilmarenya does not break. Boethiah’s children know that they must break the world that seeks to break them, and she—she has always been the rock upon which the waves break. Still, she remains on her hands and knees at the shoreline until any mortal’s bones would ache, and the tears that spill to the starlit sand are a bright, liquid gold.

What rises in the end is the Nerevarine, but Ilmarenya Ara’dayn, but something altogether other. Ilmarenya’s eyes, burning with all sundown’s fire, lift to the summit and the loom that waits atop it, and she begins to ascend.

[aladaylessecondblog]

Red Mountain Waffle House, pt. 14

Author's Note: Angst & misunderstandings

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

Somehow or the other she had been drawn to the Shrine of Azura. Before falling in with that group of former slaves in Zebabi, Sadara had looked into where the shrine was, and figuring Azura would have some answers, headed over that way.

The priests sold her some glow dust, and she made the offering as the sun was going down.

"Azura," she said, "I don't ask for you to do me any favors - I just want answers. With the prophecies, and all that - was I the Nerevarine? I mean clearly I'm not fulfilling them, so did I have ANY purpose here? What was it?"

There was a pause, a slight breeze, and then a voice in her mind.

"You have served the purpose I set out for you."

"What purpose?"

"You ensured Nerevar's bones were brought to Dagoth Ur." A pause. "There have been many Nerevarines, and you were meant to be the last. So many have failed, and you remain...the cycle repeated, in my vain hope one of you would follow the prophecies. But there have been too many failures - and so I have chosen a different path."

"What path?" Sadara felt her stomach drop. You have served your purpose.

"Nerevar will surely follow my will and destroy the Tribunal; he was ever faithful in life, and I see no reason that his loyalty should fail now. I am glad of your assistance, but your part in this is done."

She turned away without saying anything more.

Fuck Azura. Fuck everyone...except maybe Jiub.

Nothing had changed. Nothing would ever change.

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

Traveling about and killing cliffracers was okay for a week or so, but on using her name in Molag Mar, she'd drawn some attention. The healer had looked up, and gone, "Sadara? What're you doing here?"

"Working," she said, "Cliffracer plumes sell for a decent amount."

"You're working? Why?"

"For a living? Why does anyone work?" she shrugged.

"There are some people looking for you--"

The moment her wounds were closed she left, and bought a cloak to cover herself a bit better on the way out. Why would they be looking for her? They had the bones, the moon-and-star, the heirloom ring of Dagoth Ur's. What more could they want her for? Gilvoth had made pretty clear she wasn't wanted there. But then something else occurred to her--the Tribunal temple would probably want to see her gone still, despite her showing no inclination to fulfill the prophecies. She'd handed over Nerevar's bones, they might have linked her to the one who'd stolen the bones in the first place...b&e, theft, some sort of heresy charge, that'd put her away for a while. And that was if the ordinators didn't outright kill her.

Whatever goodwill she'd built with Vivec when she'd done that favor of getting the tattoo was surely burned away now...and Almalexia, she was another thing entirely.

She left Molag Mar, and thereon stopped using her name.

When she cleared the slavers' cave of Zebabi and freed the khajiit and argonians, they had asked her name. She'd thought for a moment, and said, "Nammu."

Finding out about Fyr's offer to pay for blood had come as a result of one of the argonians, Chalureel, who'd said the slavers had dragged him up to Fyr to give his blood. He was some rare type or the other, and seemed overwhelmed with the idea that the sum paid to the slavers would go to him now.

Sadara agreed to stay with them until they all figured out what they'd do with their newfound freedom. The presence of a Dunmer could handwave some things away, avoid some types of trouble...

The morning after she cleared the cave she asked Chalureel to go up to Tel Fyr with her.

"It's a city unto itself," he said, after giving a description of the route they'd need to take, "There's a lot of things there we could get ahold of, especially if your blood's a type they want."

Fyr was a reclusive sort, but those that worked for him obviously needed places to stay, and a tiny medical school of excellent reputation had popped up, and then there were all the services THEY needed--

The point being, there would be plenty of places to hawk what they didn't need of the slavers' things, and to buy what supplies they needed. She'd sold enough bandits' gear after coming to Morrowind to have a reasonably good discerning eye on the most common stuff. Daggers, leather armor, spell scrolls.

"Alright, so do we have enough water here? Not the salt kind," Sadara said, "How many bedrolls do we need to buy? You all deserve to sleep on more than just the ground like you've been doing."

A list was put together of the things they'd need, and while she and Chalureel were going to Tel Fyr, the rest would head to the shore to do some fishing and foraging.

"It rains fairly frequently here," Chalureel said, "So a rain barrel might be a good idea. The water in the cave...is not exactly clean, because of those slaughterfish the--slavers were keeping. We could boil it, but..."

"We can buy some bottled water at Tel Fyr and get a rain barrel, or something like it, and boil the water here if it's absolutely necessary. There's some cooking supplies here, so we've got a pot for it...we've got the list, so let's head out."

The blood donation didn't take all that long. It was mainly filling out the forms and negotiating for things other than money that took extra time.

In exchange for a reduced payment she managed to wrangle out getting a couple potions and to be taught Restore Health with the first donation of her own blood. Fireball she figured would be next - that would make the campfires a bit easier to start up. Then a frost spell, so they could have form up a crude refrigerator somewhere in the cave.

They were kept another hour and give some orange juice, and healed up just to be safe. Then they went shopping.

The rain barrel angle didn't pan out, but they got several jugs and bottles of water, as well as some dried fish, a couple kwama eggs, saltrice, and some shein. A box of rations from a surplus store. It felt like a wealth of food, what was in that box...

But the real treat came when she spent what she'd put aside for herself. It wasn't much, only twenty gold, but she got a new robe, the first bit of clothing she'd bought in ages that wasn't from a secondhand store.

And a green candle. There had been red ones. Smelling them had given a scent of cinnamon and memory of Jolene--Dagoth Ur, her mind corrected her. That look in the picture that had buoyed her for a little while, made her feel adored, what might have been the first stirrings of love, but which now--

Surely you understand it has always been Lord Nerevar that he wants?

The words reminding her that she was to stay in her place, that she was not to reach for anything better.

She put the red candle back and hurried along with Chalureel, whose own treat seemed to be four bags of cheese puffs. The remainder that they weren't saving went to a couple bottles of soda and some off-brand chocolate the others liked.

At last they headed back, and she thought that evening, on looking at what had been the slave pen and was now her room, that all things considered this was better than she'd had in a while, even if there wasn't any plumbing here.

It was a roof over her head, food in her stomach, and a safe place to sleep. That was all it used to take to keep her happy, and it would have to be enough now.

If she just kept believing it, maybe it would be true.

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

When Jiub saw the golden-skinned mer approaching the Waffle House a week after the last sleeper, at first he wondered why an Altmer that clean was coming out here.

Then the door opened, and the new waiter dropped to his knees. "Saint Nerevar!"

"Rise," the mer, Nerevar apparently, replied, "I have--to speak to your cook."

"Of course, of course." The waiter moved in close and said, "Be on your best behavior."

"Right." Jiub shrugged, and the waiter headed off to clean the bathroom, or smoke, or something - he didn't really pay attention. Once the man was out of earshot he looked to Nerevar.

"Is Sadara not here? The Sleepers keep saying she doesn't work here any longer."

Jiub scoffed. "And their word wasn't good enough for you?"

"Where is she?"

"She doesn't live with me anymore, if that's what you mean. Do you want coffee? Eggs?"

"Where--where did she go?" Nerevar's voice was more insistent now.

"As if I'm going to tell you."

"Look--" Nerevar's tone went stern, in what Jiub supposed was his military-leader voice. "--you need to tell me where she is."

"Why should I do that?" Jiub turned, and kept one hand in his right front pocket, where he'd moved his box cutter to. "Huh? The volcano man not quite what you expected?"

"There has been a misunderstanding--"

"Misunderstanding!" Jiub laughed harshly. "Oh yes, Sadara didn't even come home afterwards, I'd say it was more than just a fucking--get out. Now."

"Who do you think you are?"

"The man who knows where she is. So I suggest you keep your hands to yourself. I fucked up your wife, I can fuck you up too."

"She's not my wife anymore, I don't--this isn't about her. I want to know where Sadara is, so I can bring her back to Red Mountain."

"What, to be mocked some more? Do you need a punching bag so you don't get bored?"

Nerevar glared in a way Jiub assumed was meant to intimidate him. It didn't work.

"That was never what was intended."

"Really, what was intended? Because whatever was said was bad enough she didn't even repeat it to me, and she tells me everything. Just said it was nothing we hadn't heard before." Jiub crossed his arms. "Why should I tell you fucking anything when you're the reason she's like this?"

"The person she talked to--did not--" Nerevar groaned, and buried his face in his hands before looking back up. "How do I convince you I don't mean her harm? I only want her to take the place that's rightfully hers now. I thought--we hadn't seen her, so we assumed she must not have been interested in being Lady Dagoth. Then one of the Sleepers let us know she DID show up, and we simply hadn't been told about it."

"Yeah, she delivered your bones," Jiub replied, "You'd think you'd be more grateful."

"I didn't KNOW! One of Voryn's brothers turned her away and--look, I just want to correct the situation. I want to make things right. Then you won't see me again."

"It's her seeing you I'm worried about. Why should I trust you, eh? Give me one good reason not to hurl your ass out like Jazz." Jiub thought for a few moments, then cracked his knuckles. "Tell you what...if you kick my ass well enough, I'll tell you where she is."

A pause.

"Are you game for it? Or are you a big golden chicken?"

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

The kagouti hunt was not going very well.

They had enough to eat, but Sadara had headed out into the blight storm since she was immune to the blight, saying it'd probably be a good idea to get some fresh meat anyway. The slaughterfish in Zebabi's water (Gish, oddly enough, seemed to think of them as children) were happy enough with scraps, but...leftovers surely weren't healthy for them

In reality she preferred not to while away her time in Zebabi. Even with the others around it was too quiet, and if things were too quiet she'd start thinking.

And if she started thinking, she'd just end up making herself miserable. No. Better to get outside and actually DO something, until she was tired enough she'd go right to sleep when she got back.

But the blight winds were thicker than usual--or at least, thicker than she was used to--and she found herself stumbling along the paths, groping along the rocky mountainside to keep a sense of which direction she was going in. She was almost afraid to pull out her phone. Suppose it blew away, in all this wind?

Sadara took another step, leaned harder when a gust of red ashy wind blew right in her face--and fell into darkness.

"FUCK!" she screamed, and thanked any gods who might be listening that she'd had the Fyr people teach her the Light spell last time she was up there.

It looked like she'd fallen into some kind of hallway...a long corridor, there were visible doors along it. She'd think it was a dwemer ruin if it wasn't for the tombish look about it, and the lack of brass accents.

She set her quiver down to mark the spot, and then headed down the hallway. The doors opened, and she saw ash pits, with offerings covered in dust. Clearly, no one had been here in ages and ages.

A ghost or two rose...but gave her only a look before meandering about the room.

Probably a really old Hlaalu tomb.

She'd been to one or two tombs and left small offerings, but had never actually seen the ghosts wandering around like people had reported. Here, though...they seemed to be everywhere here. Some of the older looking ones ignored her, while a young one or two followed her for a while. Most vanished when she looked at them directly.

Then she came to a larger room--and the ash pit here was much, much larger than any of the others she'd seen.

As with some of the others, a ghost rose from the ashes.

This one, rather than looking at her and then quickly away, fixed her with a keen gaze that didn't once break away.

"Who are you?"

"My name's Sadara," she said, "I'm sorry, I fell into the tomb from the outside. I don't mean any disrespect. ...though I assume you must all know that already, since no one's attacked me."

"You must have married into the house," the ghostly woman said. "There is no other explanation."

"This isn't a house Hlaalu tomb?"

A snort.

"Oblivion, no. This is a House Dagoth tomb."

Sadara immediately started to back out of the room. "Well, I guess...I guess I'm technically one of you, but the marriage...isn't going to last."

"Isn't going to last? When the one you married has been rude enough not to bring you here to introduce you to the family..."

"It wasn't the one I married, but one of his--brothers that told me." Sadara shrugged. "I married him drunk, his brother said it was a mistake, and with Nerevar there again--look, I'll get out of your hair."

"No, no, stay. Stay, tell me what happened. The man you married, was it one of Voryn's brothers?"

"It was Voryn himself, and one of his brothers to--why am I telling you? It's probably getting annulled soon, I won't be part of the House for much longer."

"You shouldn't let yourself be shoved out so easily. Any Lady Dagoth should be strong enough to form herself a place. Voryn's brothers have ever been overprotective of the family honor and nobility--they tried to push off Nerevar, and now they are trying to push off you. With the same tricks, I imagine. But just like Nerevar, you--"

Sadara turned and bolted out the door, back down the hallway, ignoring every attempt by the ghosts she passed to call her back.

Just like Nerevar.

Just like Nerevar.

All she wanted was to escape that name, to escape his shadow, but every attempt seemed to deepen the trap she was in.

How long do I have to live in his shadow?

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

The blight storm hadn't let up in the least by the time she returned to the cave--and with her arm raised to protect her eyes she didn't nothing the ordinator standing just inside the cave. He stood straight and pointed his spear at her when she approached.

"Who are you?"

"S--Nammu, I live here!" Sadara corrected herself, "Don't tell me it's been seized!"

"Not seized. ...temporarily commandeered," the ordinator said, "Go inside...but there are more of us in there, and if you step out of line you'll be dealt with."

Great, she thought, just great. As if I needed more problems right now.

She went on inside, noting there weren't that many extra ordinators inside, or rather, not as many as she expected. Nuralg was the first to see her, and shook her head on being told the hunt hadn't gone well.

"This one could have told you it was a bad idea to hunt in blight winds. The only thing one can catch out there right now is a blight disease. Dinner will be ready in a bit...but there is someone occupying your room. You'll have to have a chat with her."

The her in question was entirely a surprise. No sooner did she open the little door (which was flanked by two more ordinators) than she laid eyes on--

"Queen Barenziah?"

"Sadara!"

Both were equally surprised to see one another. Sadara walked forward, trying to think of how to not explain the situation to her.

"What are you doing out here?" was the queen's first question.

"The job didn't pan out. What're you--this doesn't seem the kind of place you'd frequent." Sadara gave a faint smile.

"I was making a trip to Tel Fyr for an injection...I've got something called rheumatoid arthritis, and I would far rather have the doctors do it than trust the job to a maid or to my shaking hands. The blight storm grew stronger while we were trying to sail by, and...well, we took shelter here, not knowing anyone had already made it a home."

"It's not too bad here, provided you fluff your pillow up well enough. And have a good bedroll. Maybe it's a bit too quiet, that's my only complaint."

"Besides not having running water?" Barenziah laughed slightly. "It reminds me of the old days, but...I prefer not to go back unless necessary."

There was a pause, and for that silence Sadara thought that no more would be said.

But of course, she would later think, she could not be so lucky.

"Hunting cliffracers?" she asked, "I expected you could find another job waiting tables up in the north, with your experience."

"I wanted to get away from the region," Sadara replied quietly. She shrugged a moment later. "Lot of drama went on...Almalexia turned up, and there was...a time I got very drunk, and...it's all behind me now."

Barenziah fixed her with a Look.

"What?" she asked, "I think I actually prefer living here over that shithole I was living in. It's by the ocean, it rains more often, and..."

No response.

"I do pay attention to the online discourses, you know," the queen mother started again, "And I can put two and two together."

"I don't want to talk about it," Sadara replied quickly. "Please, let's just talk about something else."

Literally anything else. She simply wanted to keep her mind off the Situation. Eventually that ache would peter out and everything would be as it was before. Everything went down the drain anyway, eventually this would too.

"Answer a few questions, and then I will speak no more of it. I already know about this infamous marriage of yours, and I simply want to know--"

"Do I have a choice?" Sadara slumped slightly.

A few questions and then this'd be over. Barenziah would leave, and she'd get on making the best of this place.

"Did you get thrown out?"

"Not out of my apartment, no, I just didn't go back. There wasn't much to go back for."

"And Dagoth Ur?"

"I haven't seen him since the night the wedding happened. When I visited the--that palace he lives in, all I saw was his brother. If I hadn't left he'd have put me out."

"You poor thing," Barenziah's tone was sympathetic, "This is what I was trying to warn you about. These men will use you and cast you aside the moment you are no longer useful to them."

"I...I brought him Nerevar's bones. Thought we'd have to talk anyway. But...I guess he didn't want to talk..."

You have served the purpose I set out for you.

She gulped slightly. "Anyway...I suppose you'll be staying overnight. We can feed the lot of you, but it'll be a bit tight...not what you're used to, I'm sure."

"We've got some stores of our own to add, if you're inclined to make a stew. Or if you're not, I like my entourage to be well prepared." There was a pause. "I apologize for pressing, but...if you'd like the marriage annulled, I'm sure--"

"No, let him live with the stain." The venom in her tone surprised even Sadara, and she shook her head. "The only revenge I can have right now is that my name is still linked with House Dagoth. He has Nerevar now, and he'll want to marry him soon, which'll mean he'll want my signature on the divorce papers."

She'd seen how easy it could be to get a divorce in Morrowind. Thirty days apart--and they were fast closing in on that number--no matter how short a time it had been since the wedding--with papers signed, and that would be that.

It could be as if it had never been.

"Maybe I can get a bribe out of it. They want to call me a gold-digger, maybe I should just quit trying, and...and give them what they're--"

She took in a sharp breath.

Barenziah's open arms was all it took.

Sadara sank into them, sobbing, and wasn't aware of very much else for a long while afterward.

Just this time. I will let myself be sad just this time. But no one else will get to see it. No one else.

[kaerakapten88]

[wispstalk]

I actually love how often you can encounter the Daedric Princes by accident in Skyrim. They can lay a snare for you like Sanguine or engineer a "fated" encounter like Meridia. Most often you are roped in by a third party, and in Mephala's case that third party is even more clueless than you are. Sometimes you just have to seek out a shrine on purpose...and to find Azura and Malacath you go via some of Skyrim's diasporic cultures.

The thing that makes the Daedric Princes so delightfully chilling is not that they're inherently evil, but that they'll bargain with you. And the power balance in those bargains is unavoidably skewed. You might like the outcome but you don't set the tenor of the negotiation. With that in mind I like that the game takes a little of the player's agency away when it comes to the Daedra. It feels very alive and rich