#i think it's NEREVAR'S BIG NATURALS

[aladaylessecondblog]

nerevar/voryn/sadara nsft below the cut because I can't stop thinking about it. different ideas for what they all like.

nerevar is intersex like vivec for this post, as he is in all the stuff i write about now

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voryn and nerevar share more similar likes (but Sadara does join in most of the time even just to watch), they switch up a lot. sometimes nerevar's the one railing voryn, sometimes it's the other way around. sadara when she watches sits and gives little directions. slow down, make him wait for it, etc.

there's a lot of roleplaying involving their roles in Morrowind. the hortator defeating the sharmat, the champion of the tribunal. nerevar and voryn when it's just them banging like a bit of struggle. Pushing the other and making them beg in some way. Big on edging.

Voryn's "secret" kink is just. Romantic vanilla sex. He just really likes being wooed. And woohooed. Big cuddler.

Nerevar is the brat. He likes to induce the other two into "punishing" him somehow (because 'negative' attention is still attention and he likes a lot of it). Tie him up someplace and keep a vibrator in him (or make him wear it around. or wear something skimpy and lacy underneath his armor all day, etc.) Gets giddy when he's misbehaved because he's looking forward to what comes next. Loves being bred.

"Secret" kink: To get double teamed. The day night Sadara dons a strap-on and settles herself on one side of him with Voryn on the other is the night all his dreams come true.

Sadara tried a little of everything before settling in to what she liked, but Voryn & Nerevar involve her in their own little roleplays here and there. The main key with her is she wants to be wanted.

So for her there's a lot of seductive roleplaying. Oh, the poor outlander, lost and alone. If only there were someone to guide her! Nerevar himself is plenty willing to assist, and offers what comfort he can. The nerevarine chosen and abandoned, the perfect little target for the Sharmat's silver tongue!

"Secret" kink: if there is a green ribbon in her braided hair you might want to give any room she's in a wide berth. that's the 'free use anytime' (naturally only for nerevar and voryn) signal. Could get railed in the middle of getting lunch. Could get got in the hallway. Who knows?

all three of them: enjoy the post-coital cuddling because they've been without touch for varying lengths of time and skin contact is really good for them all.

[trickstarbrave]

could you elaborate (if you don't mind) on the reading the sermons with esoteric analysis techniques thing and how vivec always talks about his trauma? i havent really read the sermons myself but i think i have a good jist of it but the trauma thing is new to me (well, other than the big one in sermon 14)

im not exactly an expert but esoteric readings basically mean "reading between the lines". like subtext but to and extreme. the 36 sermons were designed with this in mind with references to and structure similar of real world occult texts along with encoded messages and the like

"muatra", vivec's spear, is an anagram (basically you rearrange the letters) of "trauma". weaponizing the pain he has gone through in the world to defend himself.

also take sermon 16 for example:

Nerevar said, 'Why are you doing this, milord?' Vivec said, 'To make room for the fire.' And the Hortator could see that Vivec was out of sorts, though not because of the impending new power to come. The golden warrior-poet had been exercising his Water Face as well, learned from the dreughs before he was born. Nerevar said, 'Is this to keep you from the fire?' Vivec said, 'It is so that I may see with truth. It, and my place here at the altar of Padhome in the house of False Thinking, serve so that I may see beyond my own secrets. The Water Face cannot lie. It comes from the ocean, which is too busy to think, much less lie. Moving water resembles truth by its trembling.'

there is a lot of information in this but we're gonna be focusing on 'the fire' here, not the fucking water face or dreughs.

"the fire" here is akin to vivec's divine spark, a sort of symbol of enlightenment, given it is a literal flame on his head. but if you look at other sources like "what my beloved taught me"...

For you, I would shave this head. It would not do that your new friend shook an inconstant kwam-lice from it. I'd take the sigil of Vel, the V, and wear it twice. And I would be new, and believe in the one moon and star as your banner does. I’d make a legend of this netch longhook. Make no frown that this will be my weapon in your guard, however low its station. We all drink from the milk of our fathers. I’d learn to read and then write so that I could see right your name forever. And I would clean your feet so that the next time you made treaty it would be with an assured step.

vivec DID cut his hair, not out of a symbol for enlightenment, but out of devotion and love to nerevar (hell, he named his spear and made it a legendary weapon also out of love and devotion). that love and devotion is what has driven him, what has defined his life, and also that during his time writing the sermons he was still picking apart that love and devotion. i think we can all agree given the foul murder and everything that the love was uhhhh kinda toxic and not healthy. he is trying to make sense of it and what it means for him with an analogy of nerevar also trying and failing to find spiritual fulfillment in sermon 16. but this carries over to sermon 34

The monster accepted Muatra with a peaceful look and his bones became the foundation for the City of the Dead, anon Narsis [sic]. Nerevar put away his axe, which he had at the ready, and frowned.'Why,' he said, 'did you ask me to come if you knew the eighth monster would give in so easily?' Vivec looked at the Hortator for a long time. Nerevar understood. 'Do not betray your nature. Answer as you will.' Vivec said, 'I brought you here because I knew the mightiest of my issue would succumb to Muatra without argument, if only I gave him consolation first.' Nerevar looked at Vivec for a long time. Vivec understood. 'Say the words, Hortator.' Nerevar said, 'Now I am the mightiest of your children.' Let this sermon be consolation to those who read it that are destined to die.

now for further context: i believe vivec's marriage to molag bal is symbolic. molag bal is the daedric prince of domination and the king of rape. and we know factually vivec as a mortal went through all manner of abuse, exploitation, and sexual assault. his marriage to the daedric prince represents an attempt to reclaim his agency in his trauma. and also i believe the children he has with molag bal that he then hunts down and kills are metaphors for or physical manifestations of his trauma.

if the children are representations of vivec's trauma, that means now that he has slain them in an attempt to heal from them, what does that make nerevar? "now i am the mightiest of your children" = "now i am your biggest trauma". and just like all the rest, nerevar is destined to die.

there are other common illusions to his trauma outside of these like "'The span of the apparently inactivated is your love of the absolute. The birth of God from the netchiman's wife is the abortion of kindness from love.'" (this is also using the definition of 'love' as spoken about by crowley, IRL).

we would be here literally all day if i went through all 36 sermons and what i think are allusions to trauma or the deeper meanings of them. because vivec is a poet, talking about complex topics like enlightenment and trauma and the ways in which he sees the world. he loves symbolism and metaphor. there are many things you can say with metaphor that you cannot communicate as well in a literal, factual explanation. to quote ursula k le guin:

"I talk about the gods, I am an atheist. But I am an artist too, and therefore a liar. Distrust everything I say. I am telling the truth. The only truth I can understand or express is, logically defined, a lie. Psychologically defined, a symbol. Aesthetically defined, a metaphor."

hence why i am annoyed when people dont take a look at the deeper meanings beyond the "FOUL MURDER" easter egg hidden meaning. there are so many deeper meanings in them. its a lot of fun to pick apart. they were made for esoteric readings. they arent the factual objective truths, but personal truths. symbols. metaphors.

[barfok]

I'm so glad you're talking about how trauma shapes characters bc I think it's such an important thing that is often overlooked despite how big of an impact it has on the whole story.

Like sotha sil's whole "ohh everything is destined to happen and we've got no choice and are all just victims of fate and we can't do anything to change our nature" seemed kinna out of character until I realised that, combined with his melancholy and withdrawal from everyone around him, are manifestations of his trauma and his way of coping after his whole family were slaughtered.

And Vivec and Almalexia are also equally shaped by their past experiences, which is why the tribunal is so interesting as a whole like yes let's throw 3 super traumatised people together who never really healed or learned healthy coping mechanisms and give them godly powers then make them lead a war torn nation, I'm sure nothing will go wrong at all whatsoever. (I also don't think any of them felt straight up guilt/regret regarding nerevars death and becoming gods but that's a whole other can of worms)

YEAH. yeah. it's very hard to define the tribunal outside of the events that shaped them-- even in the games, where their backstory is barely touched on, they are still all defined by the events that shaped them. vivec without hir orphanhood and "marriage" would not be vivec, almalexia without the nordic invasion and marriage would not be almalexia, sotha sil without the destruction of ald sotha would not be sotha sil. so many of their strongest personality traits are responses to trauma

also funny you bring up nerevar's death bc i think that event too is something they all see through the lens of their personal traumas. none of them feel bad about his death bc they're all projecting what hurt them onto him. and sometimes it's even a valid projection

great group of friends here

[catbull0109]

X4-35 (Fallout): He gets itchy on the sides of his head.

Z2-66 (Fallout): I have never drawn her with a consistent hairstyle. Probably just whatever she thinks looks good at a given moment and doesn’t get in the way of a Gatling Laser (her priorities are: brother, hot women, big fuck off gun, look cool, maybe live in that order)

Bravo (Project Zomboid) They don’t. Charlie does that whenever she can convince them to practice basic hygiene.

Nochsilledach/Erika (Tes, Skyrim): She picked it up from her Nord grandfather, Haakon One-Eye

Redach (Tes, Morrowind): Short is practical, though he later switches to a Mohawk to emulate Nerevar.

Yndosyea av Anga ye Bel/Indosia of Iron and Thunder (Tes): It’s as close as she can get to a traditional Ayleid/Saliache/Wild Elf style without outright revealing that she’s an Ayleid (she has to pluck her own feathers and hid her weird bird legs)

Skycolta: He doesn’t. It’s just perpetual bed head (and a fucking pain to draw)

Skycolta’s twin sister (one of them is trans and they are not telling who it is): styles her hair identically to her brother’s just to fuck with people.

Psy’Kin (Rimworld custom Xenotype): not one character per say but an entire “race.” (Note: there are different ethnicities amongst the Psy’Kin) They all have naturally long hair but no facial hair. The Techists (the Steampunk-Cowboy-Craftsmen) generally prefer Wavy hairstyles, often times with a large Ponytail, whilst the Traditionalists (The psionically powerful generally nomadic groups) tend to braid their hair with dried Anima Grass as a rite of passage.

X’laviez Valeria (initially a self insert character): Depends on which version of her we’re talking about. For the Fallout 4 Version, she shaved half her head during a trauma-induced episode. Most of the time it’s just what I think I’d look good in if I looked like her.

Bevungi the Mad, self-declared King of the Forests and Fae/Bauddyngi ap Arthur Humak (DND): I have barely any clue why she does what she does. I think she possesses me whenever I play as her.

Alice Lilith (Rimworld): her hair was shaved back when she was a corporate bioweapon, and it never grew back on one side.

Why does your OC style their hair the way they do?

[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

[kagrenacs]

Explaining the Iceberg #7

I skipped over some content that I didn’t find appropriate/offensive.

Hasphat Antabolis: Caius’ informant in Morrowind, author of several books including The Life and Times of the Nerevarine

Elf Sightings: Random dialogue from Nords in Morrowind. “Seen any elves? Hahaha”

Sea Gods: An observation that generally there seem to be few gods of the sea in tamriel. MK said he’d offer his explanation in ‘Captain Tobiases sword meeting with Cyrus the Restless’ However this fic was never completed. 

The Last War: A theoretical, penultimate war between elves and men due to ideological differences spanning back to the Dawn Era.

Gods are Imaginary: A pretty easy one. Applying the belief that the existence of gods are to personalize different natural phenomena and concepts, instead of the gods actually being people you could talk to. 

Arnotelicon: Absolutely no idea.

The Calling: A reported Dwemer ability, similar to telepathy.

Chimer-Quey: From Pocket Guide, second edition (Which is essentially scrapped lore/imperial propaganda) Cathnoquey is an island in the Padomaic Sea, between Morrowind and Akavir. It’s home to a group of Chimer who separated from the mainland at some point in the past, and were unaffected by Azura’s curse.

Everything said about Talos is true: Because of the paradoxical nature of Dragon Breaks (and how Talos may have ascended after the events of Daggerfall), Talos is both a mortal and a false god (Tiber Septim, Wulfharth and Zurin) and the Ninth Divine.

Tigers are Dragons: The supposed connection between Tigers/cats and Dragons. The Ka Po’Tun of Akavir are similar to Khajiit, but appear more tigerlike, and their god is said to have become a dragon himself. 

Everything Vivec says is a lie: Not much to explain here, Vivec is well known to have dual meanings within works and even outright lie.

Reman heard Pelinal: The only thing i can think of linking this to is the legend of Pelinal shouting Reman’s name in battle.

The Tribunal Never Existed: Possibly a reference to this reddit thread, exploring how history would differ if the Tribunal never ascended https://www.reddit.com/r/teslore/comments/9vcu18/what_if_the_tribunal_never_existed/

Orc Tits: A piece of art by MK depicting Orcs with 6 nipples, like a boar.

The New Man: A being that achieves Amaranth

Reachman Anarcho-Primitivism: Anarcho-Primitivism is the purposeful rejection of modern technology, in favor of a largely self-sustaining or communal lifestyle. (I’d argue a group of people would have to be immersed in a society with values surrounding technology and division of labor to reject these values, and the Reachmen have had their own society since the Merethic Era)

Turd Helmets: You read that right ): Concept art for Nord helmets...made out of hardened turd.

Dreughs=Dragons: Not sure

C0DA’s: If you’re reading this i’m sure you’ve heard people say ‘well that’s my C0da’. Essentially C0DA was written by MK to encourage fans to contribute to the lore, in an open source format. C0DA and the games themselves establish multiple timelines exist, and this keeps everything canon, and everyone happy.

Alessia Created Dragons: Again, nothing found

Chair Stacking: A reference to the stacked chairs in House Dagoth keeps in Morrowind.

Thalmor worship Aldmeris: Seeing as how the thalmor seem equivalent/commentary on fascist groups, this isn’t surprising (whether this was the intent of the writers or not). One major characteristic of facist movements is an idea of returning to the past ‘when things were good’ (regardless if they actually were or not) and quasi-religion, both of which fall under the Thalmor worshiping Aldmeris. 

Dreugh are Elves: Sermon 28 of the 36 sermons describes them as the ‘Altmer of the Sea’

Almalexia fucked everyone except Nerevar: The historical fiction books 2920, indicate that Almalexia and Vivec had a relationship at some point. Also, as @boethiah has theorized, Almalexia and Nerevar’s marriage may have been purely political. From What my beloved taught me: [about enemies] This, too: the bitch-whore of storm if she does not take your hand when you ask it. (bitch-whore of a storm referring to Almalexia)

Quantum Akaspirits: The only two links leading to this are broken, but it seems to be a made up word mocking someone

Tomorrowind: The site that hosts MK’s c0da, along with other people’s c0das. All the stories take place in the distant future.

Pocket Guide to the Empire Second Edition: Within the universe, the pocket guides are pieces of highly propagandistic writing, commissioned by emperors after Tiber Septim to promote the empire as a united nation. The second edition was never published in canon, apart from the republic of Hahd.

Numinatus pHD: A character written by MK to be a doctor who-like figure.

Jagar Tharn is Tsaesci: The closest thing i could find was a theory proposing Jagar Tharn was a vampire, based off several lines of dialogue within Arena. And the Tsaesci are thought to be vampires.

The Right Reaching: From the tsaesci origin myth, seems to be the urge to create. https://www.reddit.com/r/teslore/comments/1z73oz/whats_the_right_reaching/

Orgnum destroyed Aldmeris: I didn’t find much on this, but I assume it’s straight forward. After exile from Aldmeris, Orgnum may have retaliated and destroyed Aldmeris.

Giant Swirls: Don’t know

Skylamps: creatures native to Morrowind, described as big gas bags with spears for feet, that have similar dispositions to cliff racers and described as natural predators to dragons.

Almalexia-Underking Connection: In the Akaviri war, Almalexia summoned the Underking/Wulfharth, who was one of her enemies in the Battle of Red Mountain. 

Keir-Jo: Author of the ‘Wild Elves’ and previously, a source for the book ‘Where were you when the dragon broke” this was later retconned

Amaranth anon Anu: The thought that Anu is the Godhead of the Elder Scrolls (as opposed to a Godhead dreaming Anu/Padomay)

CHIM by Skooma: Both a joke and possibly a nod to the thought that CHIM is just a drug induced hallucination 

YR founded the 4E Thalmor: An anonymous altmer with the initials YR, who annotated the First Edition Pocket Guide. He mentions that his father is Thalmor and applauds his non-interventional policies which leads to the theory that he founded the Thalmor.

Vivec Killed Tiber septim: A brief comment from MK mentioning Vivec killed Tiber Septim once, but due to the nature of dragon breaks this unfortunately didn’t last.

Arius: (not anus, as i misread the first time) A god of fire in Arena

The Parliament of Craters: Mentioned in Sermon 19. It’s difficult to determine what this means due to the sermon’s metaphorical nature. Within context, it seems to be a parliament on the moon.

Lost Twil: mentioned in two MK texts, and an ESO loading screen calls a historic figure a ‘Duke of Twil’ indicating it’s a region or county of some sort.

Thalmor Time control: Possibly a reference to Mirror Logicians (see previous posts) or Dawn magic in the void nights

The Striking/Exact Egg cracking: In argonian myths, this is indicated by Vivec to be the potential to do change and create something new, up to new kalpas.

Wilderland: Mentioned in King Edward, seemingly another name for Valenwood

Sentient Thras: The Sload primarily use coral in their architecture. ESO has several varieties of coral in game, Land Coral (notably seen at Vivec’s Antlers and described as possibly sentient) and Sload Neural Tree. Both item descriptions seem to indicate the coral has some semblance of sentience, and it’s not much of a stretch to assume the continent of Thras may share this trait.

Sermon Zero:  An obscure text by Douglas Goodwill, with several secrets within it. First, it’s a reference to the Rennes-le-Chateau hoax (a rabbit hole in of itself), secondly there are secret messages present within the text if you decipher it in the right ways. https://www.imperial-library.info/content/analysis-sermon-zero a link to the efforts to decipher it is here.

The Ebony listening frame: Mentioned in Sermon 9, it’s a metaphor for a vagina/oral sex

Hist-Jillian Wars: From Loveletter, mentioned briefly. A war in the 5th era between the hist and akatosh’s Jills.

[littlegalerion]

A random little snippet of writing, of when Aithilo confronted Divayth about the big secret. 

Divayth set aside his latest endeavor, ready to slide it into a concealed apartment within reach, waiting to see who it was that had entered his tower. He relaxed as Aithilo rounded the corner, striding towards him.

“Ah, a surprise visit?” Divayth smirked. “Come, my boy. Look what I have now.”

“No, we have other matters to discuss,” Aithilo corrected briskly.  

His tone took Divayth by surprise, a frown instantly overtaking him. “Watch it,” he warned. “You may be pushing your 900’s, but I’ll still banish you into a demi-plane for a timeout.”

“About that,” Aithilo grumbled. “So when were you going to sit me down and explain you aren’t my actual father?”

Divayth paused, blinking at him. A million questions raced through his mind, and he didn’t know which to ask first.

“Does it matter?” he finally decided to say. “I am your father. I raised you, I taught you, I was there for every injury, every trial and error. Blood means nothing between you and I- we are father and son, regardless of whatever concepts you now have in your head.”

“I...I don’t disagree with that,” Aithilo breathed, trying to steady himself. It was rare to see him so off center, nearly trembling. “But you should have! Especially…” He glanced around, checking if they were alone, and then lowered his voice. “Considering I’m some sort of demigod abomination!”

“Demigod abom- what?” Divayth snapped. “The only true con to your nature is the nightmares. Other than that, I think your abilities have served you rather well.”

“I’d throw away my entire reality if it meant ridding myself of the night terrors!” Aithilo hissed. “I… I’m the spawn of a murderer, and even more distantly the spawn of a trickster!”

“And why does this effect who you are?” Divayth sharply asked, raising an eyebrow. 

“My dreams!” Aithilo exploded, face turning red. “I’ve lived through Nerevar’s murder a dozen times, waking up screaming as my own...my own sire was ready to slice off my face! I-I’ve watched figures crowd me, one aim a bow at my chest and watched as my heart was shot from my body! I’ve heard cursing, screams, horrors from Red Mountain! It always haunts me, even now, the closer I get to it, the worse-”

“Enough!” Divayth ordered. “I never told you because of this exact reason. Before, the dreams were nothing but nightmares, which you had to endure but would wake and soon recover from them. Your days weren’t spoiled, were they? But now you’ll lay awake at night, scared to sleep, thinking you are destined for some idiotic dark purpose!” He shoved a finger into Aithilo’s chest. “Your heart is still in your chest, and your face is clearly intact. The shadows of the past may haunt you, but you decide if they control your future. You… You’re too soft, honestly. Emotional. I tried to help you grow thicker skin, but you’re too… giving.” He rolled his eyes. “For once, please, for ONCE, be selfish.”

Aithilo looked at him, at a loss for words. His eyes misted over, tears welling in the corners as he trembled. 

“How did you find out?” Divayth sighed, rubbing his forehead. 

“Trechire,” Aithilo whispered, hands curling into fists. “She saw the Clockwork god...with my mother, in a chamber which housed his memories. She saw Sotha Sil pledge he’d be a part of my life...my mother’s one condition.” His gaze grew intense. “Why was there a condition? Why did Sotha Sil not keep his word?”

“I don’t know why Sil didn’t keep his word,” Divayth growled. “I tore his head off for it when Rasulu had you, and I watched myself the life fade from her eyes. No more than a moment later, Sil disowned you. I tried to argue, but in the end I just accepted Sil was Sil, and took you as my own. As for the conditions- Sil wanted your mother as a permanent resident of the Clockwork City. That much I know. So, if I had to guess, Rasulu agreed to stay forever within the city, so long as Sil didn’t close himself off to you, as he always does in general to, well, everyone.”

“He broke his promise,” Aithilo breathed, still trembling. 

“Don’t hold onto that,” Divayth warned. “It isn’t worth it. Sil is unpredictable, distant, and at times I wonder if he is all together in the head. He’s brilliant, a genius- but one can be such things and still be completely oblivious to common sense.” He scowled. “I haven’t forgiven him for breaking his promise, and neither should you, but we do not let these things consume and distract us. Understood?”

Aithilo didn’t reply. He still trembled, and now tears slipped down his face. 

“Aithilo…” Divayth sighed, tapping his fingers across his desk in frustration. “Get yourself together.” When Aithilo turned his head away, and faint sobs began to slip, Divayth took a deep breath. “Alright, alright.” He extended a hand, and pulled Aithilo into a hug. 

Admittedly it had been a while since they’d hugged. What, maybe when Divayth got side tracked in that one dimension for a couple of months and finally came home? Aithilo had been worried sick. Bless him, he actually had feared for Divayth, as if there was a possibility the wizard couldn't have returned. Then again, with his foreseeing dreams, perhaps there had been, and Divayth should have taken note. Regardless, Divayth hugged him tight, Aithilo grabbing onto him and sobbing into his shoulder. He had outgrown Divayth by now, quite tall for a dunmer, but given his bloodline it was no wonder. He stooped down, crying his eyes out, like all the nights he had woken up due to his nightmares and screamed for his father to come save him. 

“Far too emotional,” Divayth grumbled, but held on tight. “You’re nothing like Sil, so stop worrying.” He thought for a moment. “Though you are quite cunning, and beyond mischievous when you want to be. Lorkhan might have influence over you after all.”

“Stop!” Aithilo rasped through his crying. 

“Well, you might be able to take claim to a moon!” Divayth put in, still holding him. “Imagine all we could do with a moon!”

“Father…” Aithilo sobbed, but Divayth detected a trace of a smile as he dared a glance to his shoulder. 

“It would make sense. All these men and women that crowd you, and yet you aren’t interested in either? A cruel, merciless deception,” Divayth snorted. “Robbed me of countless tricks I wanted to pass down to you.”

Aithilo still shook with tears, but a smile seeped through now completely. He took a few minutes, then quietly mumbled, “Thank you for raising me.”

“Completely stupid thing to do, thanking a parent for doing their job,” Divayth huffed, now brushing Aithilo off him. His own face had grown red, and he patted down his now soaked armored shoulder. “Go clean yourself up- but leave that bow!” He pointed to the bow made of random metallic bits and gears clipped to Aithilo’s quiver. “Did you bang it against a thousand trees? Don’t answer that- I already know the answer. Just leave it, and I’ll have it fixed for you when you get back. That was a damn expensive gift, and no son of Divayth Fyr will be seen trotting around the backroads of Blackmarsh with some...some basic bow!”

[bitchwhoreofastorm]

“origin” 

"Nerevar's parry! Advance! Delyn's backhand! Retreat! Meris' block! Step left! Olms' thrust! Step right!"

Seron's sonorous voice echoed over the regular beat of heavy boots against pavement and ragged breathing in hot training-hall air. A crowd of Dunmer noblechildren did not a disciplined batallion make; Seron, however, was a Hand of Almalexia, and by a combination of careful diplomacy and strict admonishments that the Lady Herself would've been proud of, he'd whipped them promptly into shape, and they kept rigorous time with his instructions, feet and swords striking in rhythm with his shouts.

"Felms' Strike, take the knee-- Well done!" Seron shouted breathlessly over the clatter of several nobles falling to the ground. Fully-armoured and imposing for his height, the Hand walked down the line of kneeling children, all of whom were panting from exertion, their heads bowed and their training-swords held before them as if they were kneeling before the Gods Themselves. "Llarol, your parries are too slow," he said as he walked. "Mylis, good backhand. Ernil? Careful with your steps, they're too broad-- remember the Homily about the careless Alit who lost a battle by stepping off a cliff? Thanethen, best in the class today, well done. Iliah-- Iliah, your form is excellent but you move too slowly. Perfect form only counts if you use it in time."

Iliah, the fourteen-year-old girl who knelt at the end of the line, bowed her head and said nothing in response. This was a sword-class for the children of nobility, prospective politicians who needed to learn how to defend themselves (a necessary part of Dunmer politics, where assassinations were a part of daily life), and Seron seemed content for his advice to be accepted begrudgingly. While her peers grumbled about their criticisms, Iliah stared at the floor and focused on regaining her breath, flexing her hands on the hilt of her training sword and swearing to move more quickly next time.

"Alright," Seron announced, "Osuhn molha! Stand up and pair off. Let's put your lessons to the test."

A sense of dread crept into Iliah's throat. This was, by far, her least favourite part of training. Instinctively she looked over to Mylis, the only other girl in their cohort, but no sooner had she looked up that a stupid, grinning face abutted itself into her vision.

"You again," Iliah uttered.

"Me again!" chirped the boy. "Fight with me?"

Iliah looked past him, to Mylis, but she'd already paired off with Thanethen, and Seron had been claimed by the anxious-looking Llarol. "Um."

"Of course you will," laughed Ernil-- for that was the name ascribed to this pest-- and, before Iliah could protest, he seized her spare hand dragged her to a clear section of the training-hall.

Resigned to her fate, Iliah followed after hand, her hand hanging limply in his sweaty one.

If Iliah hadn't known better, she might have thought that Ernil enjoyed being beaten up by her. He always insisted on sparring with her, and hung around her like an unpleasant odour throughout their sessions; he'd even taken to following her home, prattling on about boring things, and she would endure his company in polite silence, or condone to wander around the public gardens with him until she found either her sister or her father to save her from the menace. Unfortunately, her withdrawn nature had done nothing to convince him that they were not, in fact, friends-- he seemed to like that she hardly spoke, calling her a 'good listener' and joking that he spoke enough for the both of them-- there were some boys, Iliah had realized, who treated conversations as opportunities to deliver monologues about whatever they pleased. And to Iliah's horror, even the adults had begun to take notice of how much time they spent together; when Ernil, holding her hand, positioned her in their usual training-spot, Seron gave them both a nod of approval, and Iliah wanted nothing more than to sink into the ground.

At least she could avenge herself on him. She was by far the better swordsman, and Ernil had barely dropped into fighting stance before Iliah had him on the floor.

The 'sparring' went predictably poorly for Ernil. He got in a few good hits, but he was one of those sensitive noble-children who couldn't commit to the violence, and each time his sword struck her he balked, leaving ample opportunity for Iliah to dive in and send him flying. To his credit, at least, he offered no protest: he would always hop back on his feet and attack her, only for Iliah to knock him back again. When Seron came by to observe them, he even noticed that Iliah's speed had improved considerably; at Ernil's efforts, the Hand merely sighed.

By the time the lesson ended, some half-hour later, Iliah's arms were sore, and Ernil had acquired several new bruises to boast of. 

Not that it seemed to teach him anything.

"You're so good at this," Ernil prattled on after the lesson, as they sat next to each on the floor, peeling off their armour. "Unlike me. I'm the worst! The swords just move so fast. And I'm so clumsy. I don't think I'm cut out to be a warrior. You're lucky that you're a girl, nobody will be disappointed in you if you aren't good at swords. It's not fair. We should change places, really. But I don't mind that a girl's better than me at sword-fighting. Hey, you could give me private lessons. What are you doing this afternoon?"

Iliah, halfway through unfastening her cuirass, desperately wracked her brains for anything happening this afternoon. "Nothing," she finally conceded. "I'm not doing anything."

"Wonderful!" said Ernil with a grin. "Want me to help you with your cuirass?"

"No--"

But he was already unfastening the back for her; Iliah cringed away from his touch, but punching him would have been rude, so she stared patiently at the floor.

"Wanna come to my house?" Ernil asked. "There you go, it's unfastened. We should hang out! You just said you're doing nothing this afternoon, so why not?"

"I, um."

"Don't be shy! I know you're a shy girl, but I want to hang out with you, I promise. I think you're so cool, Iliah."

Iliah dropped the cuirass next to her and moved away from him, keeping stubbornly silent, focused on removing her armour.

Unfortunately, Ernil took her silence as agreement. Once she'd removed her armor, she wasn't quick enough out the door, and he tagged along with her; they both lived in the manor district, so their paths home regrettably aligned. 

"Let's take the long road back," Ernil said, the moment they’d left the Temple complex, "Through the gardens!" And Iliah, who at least loved the public gardens, simply shrugged and let him usher her off into the trees.

The weather that day was warm, a lovely late-spring afternoon, the air thick and heady with flower-scent. They walked by a canal, concealed from the sun by the dappled shade of the pink Moril-trees standing overhead, through beds of Timsa-Come-By bowing their heads in a light breeze. After the hot sweaty air and cold stone of the training-hall, the gardens felt soft, fragrant, and their myraid pinks and oranges cast the entire scene in a hazy pollen glow. Despite the irritating presence of the boy, Iliah found herself quite content; too tired to be annoyed, she relaxed as they walked, enjoying the lovely atmosphere of Mournhold. And Ernil let a comfortable silence fall between them, for once, so the walk was nearly pleasant. 

"I love this place," Ernil finally broke the silence, looking up at the trees.

Iliah, walking close beside him, stared out at the opaque blue water of the canal. She could see Koi darting around the base of the violet lotuses that dotted the water. "Me too," she said fondly, watching one of the big orange fish nibble at a plant.

"Do you remember playing here, when we were little? When you and your sister used to climb up that tree there," Ernil pointed to a large, stooping tree, drawing her attention away from the water, "And you'd declare yourselves the Queen of Mournhold, and make everyone do your bidding. You made me bring you sweetrolls! Do you remember?"

Iliah followed his pointing finger. "Yeah, I remember," she smiled, self-conscious. "I still like sweetrolls."

"I always wanted to be your friend, back then, but you were so shy. But I thought you were so cool, even then. You were smart and mysterious and dignified, like a real princess... and so pretty."

His hand brushed Iliah's. Iliah jerked it back to her chest. 

"You're thinking of Karnalta," she said flatly. “In that game, Kar was always the Queen--”

"I'm not," Ernil said, looking at her, and something in his expression made Iliah stop in her tracks.

"But--"

"You're beautiful," Ernil said, also stopping. "Do you know that, Iliah?"

Iliah looked away. Suddenly her face was burning; she wished, more than anything, she'd brought her training sword on ths walk.

She felt Ernil grab her hands, and this time she didn't pull away. "Iliah Ra'athim,” declared Ernil, “I-- I like you a lot." His hands were still clammy. "I know you're shy, so I don't mind if we take it slow. I think it's cute. It gives you a certain... charm. But I like you a lot, and I think you're so... cool, and beautiful, and quiet, and interesting. I've known you my whole life, I don't remember a time I didn't know you, and I've always admired you so much."

"Ah, I'm not--" Iliah's gaze was fixed firmly on a nearby Timsa-Come-By; her hands were itching. "I think-- you're thinking of Kar, not me. I'm not..."

"No! I like you. She gets too much attention, but you're the one I really care about. You're the interesting one, the one who's good at swords, the beautiful one, the dignified respectable quiet shy devout one. You're wonderful. And I, I must ask you--"

The Timsa-Come-By beds were very interesting right now. Iliah, still with her hands imprisoned in their moist tomb, watched a dragonfly land on one. From the corner of her eye, Iliah saw-- in slow-motion, as if a disaster were taking place-- Ernil drop to his knees.

"Iliah Ra'athim," echoed that thin, reedy voice from a million miles away, "Will you be my girlfriend?"

The dragonfly lifted off and darted back to the canal.

A drop of sweat slid down Iliah's wrist.

"Um," said Iliah.

Ernil was still on his knees, holding both of her hands. He wasn't moving.

It had been several seconds.

When Iliah peeked down at him, he looked like he was on the verge of tears.

"Well?" Ernil pressed, voice shaking.

"I, um," Iliah stammered. "I... need to ask Kar."

"You need to ask your sister if you can date me?"

"Ah. Yes?"

"But that's foolish!" Ernil cried, jumping up, his hands still clamped around hers. "You deserve to be free! Why should she control you? I'll stand up to her for you. She's a bully, I always knew that, but I won't let her terrorize you any longer!"

"It's not--" Iliah shook her head. "I meant, I-- I need to ask my father?"

"I already asked him!" Ernil said anxiously.

"You what?"

"He said we'd make a great match. I'm nobility too, you know! He says I'm a fine young man and I'll be a good influence on you and--"

Iliah, aghast, wrenched her hands away from him. "But I--" she cast about for excuses. "I'm only fourteen!"

"So am I!"

"I can't use magic?"

"I don't care!"

"I snore? I-- you don't actually want to-- me? I don't like going out late! I’m boring! I hate holding hands. I'd be an awful girlfriend!"

"I don't care about any of that," Ernil said, pleading. "We've known each other all our lives, I know who you are. That's who I like! You!"

On the verge of panic, Iliah looked around. Why hadn't she brought that sword?

"Why don't you want to date me?" Ernil asked miserably. "I'm noble, I'm a nice person, I'm rich. What's wrong with me?"

"Nothing's wrong with you," Iliah choked out. "You're-- you're very nice."

"Am I ugly?"

"I don't think so?"

"Is there another boy? Is it Thanethen?"

"No!"

"Then why?" Ernil rushed forwards, grabbing Iliah by the shoulders-- he was really standing far too close, close enough that Iliah could definitively see that he’d shed a tear or two. "Why won't you--"

And at that moment, in a stroke of what she would later consider to be a message from divinity, Iliah heard Hand Seron's voice echo in her mind: Nerevar's Parry.

Emil landed in the canal with a resounding splash. 

Iliah stood on the shore, still in post-suplex stance, having not even realized she'd hauled the boy over her shoulder until it was too late.

As Ernil waded towards the shore, shouting at her, Iliah finally decided to put manners aside: she took off at a run. Seron had been right, she thought vaguely--  good technique was most potent when combined with speed.

--

"You threw him into the canal." Idrenie said, disbelieving.

"What else was I supposed to do?"

The two women sat near a hearth, in their corner of the barracks; Idrenie, holding a goblet of greef, rested with her back pressed to Iliah's chest and her eyes closed contentedly, listening with rapt attention as Iliah told the story. The ending, however, had roused her, and she laughed, pressing her head back into Iliah's breast. "Only you, my dear, would think that suplexing a man is an appropriate rejection!"

"Again," replied Iliah, with feigned irritation, "What else was I meant to do? He was so annoying!"

"You could have just said no. Most women reject men with words, not suplexes. Could've said you were a big mean Telmoran and wanted no part in his nasty boyish charms. "

"Well, I didn't know that yet, did I?" Iliah sighed, burying her hands in Idrenie's loose hair. "Honestly, I felt too guilty. Because he was... nice, and we were friends. It would've made sense to date him, but the idea made me want to puke, even if I didn't know why."

"And that's how you realized it."

"Yes. Before that, I thought I could be with a man, if such an occasion ever came. But Ernil made me doubt it. I thought that if I would be with a boy, it should be one like him, but..."

"But you didn't like boys." Idrenie laughed again. Her laughter turned to a happy croon as Iliah massaged her scalp.

"I don't like boys," Iliah agreed softly.

"What about that Mylis girl?"

"Ah, she-- I could hardly speak in her presence. She was the kindest, prettiest, funniest, sweetest person. Once, during training, she actually asked to spar with me. Asked to spar with me! I felt so lucky. And she said I was talented afterwards. I was so-- Idrenie, why are you laughing at me."

For Idrenie had tilted her head back, and was grinning sleepily up at Iliah. "Nothing," she drawled. "I just remembered the first time we sparred."

"Oh, gods, don't--"

"When I said, 'beautiful backhand'."

"Idrie."

"And you replied, 'You're beautiful too.'"

Iliah groaned and leaned forwards, pressing her nose against Idrenie's forehead. "You'll never let me forget that, will you?"

"Of course not," Idrenie replied, tilting her face back to kiss her. "Just don't throw me into a canal over it, okay?"

[razaks-wheel]

Archcanons

Elyna Ralvas, Nerevarine and Vivec's Archcanon, talks to Archcanon Gavas Drin after the fateful encounter in the Clockwork City.

---

Elyna stood on the top of the steps outside the Mournhold Temple while Azura gave her grand speech. She did not want to hear it—she had loved her gods, and now they were dead, and she would have liked some time to mourn—but she supposed she would have to get used to tolerating Azura. There would be a lot more of that to come. When the Prince vanished, Elyna remained there for a few moments longer, gathering her thoughts, before going inside.

Though her mind was swimming, she just barely noticed Fedris Hler giving her an indiscernible look while she made her way toward the Archcanon's wing and gave him a brief nod. She wondered if he had expected to see her again, if he knew what had happened. They would have to talk later, but Gavas Drin was her first stop. She left the reception area and headed through the hall, into the Archcanon's office.

"Serjo Gavas," she greeted him with a small bow. "Do you have a moment?"

"I suppose I can spare a moment, Serjo Elyna," he said with barely enough practiced diplomacy to hide his suspicion and distaste. "How can I help you?"

"I was wondering if we could speak in private, Archcanon-to-Archcanon."

He eyed her for a moment with that same suspicion, now making no attempt to hide it, but finally nodded and dismissed the others. "What do you need? Last I heard, our Lady Almalexia had a task for you, so if you have not done that yet, I think you have more pressing concerns than—"

"Maybe you should sit down."

He narrowed his eyes, but sat down at his desk, and Elyna sat across from him, setting her bag on the floor next to her. She thought about how to proceed—how does one even talk about such a subject?

"Gavas, do you know the nature of this last task Almalexia gave me?"

He looked nervous, almost guilty. "Well, Mother Morrowind keeps me as informed as she sees fit, of course."

"Of course. So, given that I have returned, you know the outcome." She tried to gauge his understanding, but he avoided her gaze. She would have to come right out with it. "Almalexia and Sotha Sil are dead."

Gavas straightened his back and opened his mouth to speak, but Elyna held up a hand to stop him.

"Please, serjo," she said. "I'm not a layperson. You don't need to give me a speech about how our gods are immortal and could not possibly die. We can speak plainly with one another, can we not?"

Gavas loosened his posture and let out his breath, though he did not look relaxed. "You really expect me to take your word for it?" he asked. "You have been nothing but trouble since you returned to Morrowind—no, since before you even left Morrowind in the first place. First, you were a Dissident, and now you're some Daedra's plaything. Maybe even an Imperial agent, if the rumors are to be believed. You may have convinced Tholer of your virtues, Archcanon, but I will not be easily convinced when the thorn in our collective side tells me that our gods are dead."

Elyna smiled thinly. "That's better." As much as she knew she should be hurt by some of his words, she could not deny that his concerns were valid. After all, what would she do in his position?

She pulled her bag up onto her lap. Fortunately—or, really, unfortunately—she had evidence for him. She carefully pulled out Hopesfire and set it on the desk. The glowing blue lightning crackled along its blade. "Does this help?"

His face went pale, and his eyes were wide and locked on the sword. "What did you do?" he whispered.

"She had already killed Sotha Sil," Elyna said quietly. "She was going to kill Vivec next, after me."

"You should have let her kill you."

"And Vivec, and whoever else she wanted? After she had already killed Sotha Sil? How is that better?"

"That's not for you to decide. If your god and sovereign wants you dead, it's your duty to die. It's not your place to question her will."

"Gavas, she's dead. There's no need for platitudes about faith anymore. We need to consider how to move forward."

Gavas looked as if he wanted to continue arguing, but sighed and shook his head. "Where are they now?"

"Still in the Clockwork City."

"We need to see to them quickly, then."

Elyna nodded. "We should also get in contact with Sotha Sil's Archcanon, if one exists. Then we should talk to Vivec. The Temple is going to face a big transition, and we need to make sure it goes smoothly. We don't need the Imperials seeing this as an opportunity to swoop in and proselytize any more than they already have."

Gavas looked grim, but he slowly nodded in agreement. "Fedris also needs to be made aware of...this. If he doesn't already know." His eyes floated back down to his desk, tracing Hopesfire's crackling glow. "Did you say their death rites?"

"I did," she said. "It's a strange feeling to offer praise to ALMSIVI on behalf of ALM and SI, but it would have felt worse to do nothing."

He looked satisfied, if nothing else. "Many in your position might have left your...assailant to rot. I suppose you're more compassionate than we've given you credit for."

"I'd like to think my position is earned," Elyna said, a coolness edging into her voice.

"Of course. I apologize for my...comments. And assumptions."

It surprised Elyna to see that his expression actually looked apologetic. She nodded simply in acceptance.

After a moment of awkward silence, he spoke up again. "I sometimes forget that you grew up here in Mournhold. Despite your fraught history with the Temple, this must not be easy on you, either. I know you're Vivec's Archcanon now, but Almalexia is—was your patron, wasn't she?"

"She was. I love all Three, but my encounters with the Sacred Lady as a young priest and earlier were some of the most meaningful experiences in my life. It's...painful to know how things ended up, and worse to know that it was at my hand."

"So why did you go through with it?" he asked. "How could you go through with it?"

Now it was Elyna's turn to let her gaze fall uncomfortably onto the sword on the desk while she contemplated what to say.

"I've had to do a lot of difficult things since returning to Morrowind. Just ending the Blight and confronting Dagoth Ur had incredible consequences, of course, and that's not even taking into account my—Nerevar's history with Voryn. This was just one more, incredibly painful, unfortunately necessary task that fell on the Nerevarine." She shrugged ruefully. "It was destined to happen sooner or later. I suppose it's my duty to bear the weight of it so that no one else has to. I only pray that I don't have to do anything else like that. I can only carry so much weight."

She tore her eyes away from the blade and looked up at the Archcanon.

"I know you have every reason to hate me, but I think we'll be seeing a lot of each other while we help the Temple transition to whatever comes next. I wonder if you could find it in yourself to at least tolerate me. Maybe someday we could even be friends." She smiled weakly in an attempt at humor.

Gavas returned the smile in spite of himself. "Friendship might take some work, but I'm willing to give you the benefit of the doubt in the meantime." He nodded toward her hand. "I see you still have Barilzar's Mazed Band. Would you let me accompany you to the Clockwork City to see to our gods and introduce ourselves to any clergy? Say, first thing tomorrow?"

"I would like that." She put Hopesfire back in her bag and stood up, giving the Archcanon a nod of goodbye. "Until tomorrow, Gavas."

[indoril-nerevar]

I feel like the Nerevarine could be an Heir of Hope. Like, the whole prophetic nature of inheriting the hope of the people of Morrowind and defeating Dagoth Ur. And notions of 'inviting change' of Hope, since the actions of the player character can have quite wide repercussions, both good and bad

the nerevarine and the other Big Heroes all majorly depend on how u play em ofc and how ur specific nerevarine does things, but i think heir of hope (or at least heir) could fit for an interpretation of em! esp w the inheritance aspect, and if you Do believe in them rly bein neht’s reincarnation, them Literally Becoming Nerevar as a symbol of hope works too

i was sort of stuck w them being like a Maid of Blood that ghosts breath, if that makes sense? they rely on other people to be told what to do and who to get along with while wishing for something different/wanting to be alone, up until the point where they rly bring people together. but im still kind of iffy on it besides blood and breath being involved so wavyhand. the nerevarine seems a lot more difficult than the hok or dragonborn bc theres many different ways u can take it compared to the other storylines

[snowberry-pie]

TAGGED BY @indoril-nerevar-mora

your stereotypical “masculine” side

you love hoodies. you love shorts. dogs are better than cats. it’s hilarious when people get hurt. shopping is torture. sad movies suck. you own a car racing game. you played with hot wheels cars as a kid. at some point in time you wanted to be a firefighter. you owned a ds, ps2, n64, or sega. you used to be obsessed with power rangers. you have watched sports on tv. gory movies are cool fun. you go to your dad(s) for advice. you own like a trillion baseball caps. you used to collect hockey or baseball cards. baggy sweats are cool to wear. it’s kinda weird to have sleepovers with a bunch of people. green, black, red, blue, or silver are one of your favourite colours. you love to go crazy and not care what people think. sports are fun. you talk with food in your mouth. you sleep with your socks on at night. you have fished at least once.

your stereotypical “feminine” side

you love to shop. you wear eyeliner. you wear the colour pink. you go to your mom to talk. you consider cheer-leading a sport. you hate wearing the colour black. you like going to the mall. you like getting manicures and/or pedicures. you like wearing jewelry. you cried watching the notebook. dresses are a big part of your wardrobe. shopping is one of your favourite hobbies. you don’t like the movie star wars. you are/were in gymnastics. it takes you around one hour to shower, get dressed, and apply make up. you smile a lot more than you should. you have more than ten pairs of shoes. you care about what you look like. you like wearing dresses when you can. you like wearing high heel shoes. you used to play with dolls as a little kid. you like putting make up on others. you like being the star of everything.

appearance

i am shorter than 5’5″. i have scars. i tan easily. i wish my hair was a different colour. i have friends who have never seen my natural hair colour. i have a tattoo. i am self-conscious about my appearance. i’ve had/have braces. i’ve been told i’m attractive by a complete stranger.  i have more than two piercings. i have/had piercings in places besides my ears. i have freckles. i have freckles that aren’t on my face. usually bruised. i paint my nails. i don’t leave my hair natural. i have a tooth gap. i have facial hair. i have burn marks. my birthmark is usually visible. i smile with my teeth. i have longer legs. i have a longer torso. i have broad shoulders. i am more muscular for my size.

experiences

i’ve gotten lost in my city. i’ve seen a shooting star. i’ve wished on a shooting star. i’ve seen a meteor shower. i’ve gone out in public in my pajamas. i’ve pushed all the buttons on an elevator. i’ve kicked a guy where it hurts. i’ve been to a casino. i’ve been skydiving. i’ve gone skinny-dipping. i’ve drank a whole gallon of milk in one hour. i’ve crashed a car. i’ve been skiing. i’ve been in a musical. i’ve caught a snowflake or snow on my tongue. i’ve seen the northern lights. i’ve sat on a rooftop at night. i’ve played a prank on someone. i’ve ridden in a taxi. i’ve seen the rocky horror picture show. i’ve eaten sushi. i’ve been snowboarding.

honesty/crime

i’ve done something i promised someone else i wouldn’t. i’ve done something i promised myself i wouldn’t. i’ve snuck out. i’ve lied to my parents about where i am. i’ve cheated while playing a game. i’ve ran a red light. i’ve witnessed a crime. i’ve been in a fist fight. i’ve been arrested.

death and suicide

i’m afraid of dying. i hate funerals.  i’ve seen someone/something dying. someone close to me has attempted/committed suicide. i’ve written a eulogy for myself. i think about death a lot. i’m afraid of someone close to me dying. i’ve had pets die. i’ve had suicidal thoughts. death doesn’t bother me.

random

i can sing well. i’ve stolen a tray from a fast food restaurant. i open up to others easily. i watch the news. i don’t kill bugs. i sing in the shower. i am a morning person. i paid for a cell phone ring tone. i am a sports fanatic. i twirl my hair. i care about grammar. i have “?”’s in my screen name. i’ve copied more than 30 cds in a day. i bake well.  my favourite colour is either white, yellow, pink, red, blue, black, purple, or orange. i would wear pajamas to school. i like martha stewart. i know how to shoot a gun. i laugh at my own jokes. i eat fast food weekly. i’ve not turned anything in and still got an a in a certain class. i can’t sleep if there is a spider/cockroach in the room. i am ticklish. i love white chocolate. i bite my nails. i’m good at remembering faces. i’m good at remembering names. i’m good at remembering dates. i honestly have no idea what i want to do for the rest of my life

tagging: anybody who sees this!!!! 

[profanetools]

what draws/drew you to the tes series? most of your thoughts on characters and lore seem to be based on your rewritten universe and in general, it seems like you don’t care for the existing lore of tes/morrowind. i’m just curious if there’s a particular reason that you’re attached to the tes universe conceptually as opposed to taking your rewritten/headcanoned tes worldbuilding and applying them instead to an original story/universe that would inherently be more to your tastes from the beginning

i meant to answer this this morning (i received this at 6am) and i apologise for the delay but this deserve a full response. i apologise for the meandering nature of this reply.

i think this is a fair question but two things deserve to be considered:

1. what is ‘lore’?

2. what does being a fan of a series entail?

regarding the first question, i have just an atrocious memory for facts and figures. i regularly forget what is commonly considered ‘common knowledge’ amongst lore buffs; largely because lore buffs pride themselves on remembering facts - something i am just not skilled at. i forget the fiction beyond the general details and end up making shit up based on a presumption that turns out to be wrong - that’s something that happens all the time. it’s a demoralising experience to be constantly corrected on what is assumed to be common knowledge - even though i fail to actually retain that information 9 times out of 10 - so i largely post with warnings like ‘this isn’t canon compliant!’ because I can’t really be doing with being correct on minutiae when that isn’t the point of what i’m trying to express.

what i am trying to explain - badly - is that lore is often reduced to a recollection of facts without really a depth of understanding of other aspects of the fiction. for example, i think the strength of a lot of RPGs in particular is that it actively invites the viewer to contribute and complete the fiction by creating their own characters and narratives using the skeleton of the world. RPGs are not a fictional narrative with one authority figure - an auteur in cinematic terms - dictating  how things go (no matter what MK tells himself, lmao). that is as important as the history established (through second hand accoutns, no less) of the fiction. the player completes the lore with their own interpretation of events; it is not a one sided view of things. furthermore, i think people tend to view lore as a collection of facts and fail to acknowledge the themes and emotional ressonance that a selection of incomplete second hand accounts may possess. i am a big fan of the lore in so much as the first council is about themes of loss, themes of tragedy, themes of compromise, and what that entails, politically, and an exploration of betrayal and trying to do the best while under threat, while besieged by enemies, with the looming threat of colonisation and conquest by enemies is at one’s door. i adore  the themes of Morrowind - i adore the dreamlike narrative, i adore the questioning one is invited to do as a player when playing the game. i adore how much agency it gives you in figuring out an ending to the question it poses - are you nerevar? are you more than your past life? what does it mean to be ‘nerevar incarnate’? have you risen to standard? have you defied it?

i am a fan of the fiction. perhaps i am not a fan of the lore in so much as it is a set of facts but certainly, regarding morrowind i am a fan in how much it invites the reader to give their own input and contribution and really that is in large part what i am offering here. my own input and contribution. in fairness, this is based on the backbone of other headcanons others more knowledgable annd well versed in the facts have provided, but part of the reason i talk about the lore in the way i do is because i just do not think the actual facts of the fiction are not necessarily the most important thing. i think the feeling and the mood and the sense of mystery and the general ambience is as important to the lore. and perhaps i do not capture that mystery in my writing but i certainly try and capture that sense of tragedy at least.

referring to question two now:

2. what does being a fan of a series entail?

this isn’t the first time i have been asked ‘why don’t i make my own original universe?’. i used to be a big fan of the star wars series and i used to engage in a similar way; inventing my own AUs, playing fast and loose with canon, ignoring what i didn’t like, and so on. because ultimately, and this ties in with question 1, i think we have a tendency to try and... since the creation of copyright and the idea of writing as Property of One Author, we look down upon interpretations and perceptions of existing universes, we ask, ‘dude you have so many ideas why can’t you make your own universe?’ and creative response to existing fictional works has been discouraged because of copyright infringement, and it has been lowered to a secondary realm of fiction-making, fanfiction. there is a certain level of judgement there, in that fanfiction is almost certainly low literature, and that is unfair because previously there have been several creative responses to fictional unverses, taking elements of the fiction and completely ditching others and spinning them their own way, Arthurian legend perhaps being the most well known example in literature written in English, but hardly the only one.

what I am trying to express is what I am doing is not actually that novel, i am taking and choosing elements i like to create my own thing, and perhaps yes i will pick and choose and write my own novel from it, but why must i have to? is it not enough to exist in the same universe? is it not enought to grapple with the same themes, the same underlying ideas, about what it means to be mortal or not, what it means to be loyal or not, how much does a betrayal cost? even if i am working under my own framework that rejects some bullshit writing, why should i have tocreate my own universe, when there are so many references buried deep to different historical events in-universe, why should i have to extrapolate that? how the fuck do i explain Lorkhan outside of the context of the elder scrolls? why should i have to do that?

i think in part some of this comes from a lack of confidence in my own worldbuilding, if i am honest, i don’t know if i would be able to create a fully fleshed out world beyond some silly idealistic commie fantasy. a lot of my characters are an extension of me and lean in a certain way and i don’t know if i’d be able to create more than a personal story and i don’t knwo if i’d be able to create a whole world. in part that’s why i rely on fanfction. because it does that work for me and i can just focus on the parts i like.

but also like. i can enjoy the fiction thematically - and i adore morrowind, thematically, and i try to replicate that, thematically - without paying fervent attention to the facts. and the fact that i create what seem like to be whole fictional world offshoots does not mean i should translate that to an original setting.

i hope this answer isn’t too confusing and that this answer has clarfied some things for you anon.

[mazurah]

Lost in Time Ch. 5: Memories - An Elder Scrolls Fanfic

Chapter Summary: Ma’zurah and Fayrl have a much needed conversation that cements their alliance, and Fayrl learns more than he ever expected to know about Ma’zurah.

Cross posted from Ao3. Chapter Rating: M for language, non-explicit sexual situations, and brief accounts of attempted assault and sexual harassment.

First Chapter - Previous Chapter - Next Chapter

Lost in Time Chapter 5: Memories

Ma'zurah held open the door to the inn and she and Fayrl walked inside to the sound of a lute and a cheerful greeting from the bar. Ma'zurah made her way toward the bar to inquire after a room.

Fayrl trailed very leisurely behind her, taking in all of the patrons around. There was already a bard here; that wouldn't do. He needed to find a way to earn more coin. He made a note to speak with the fellow when he took a break from his next set.

He could see there seemed to be mercenaries here too. Useful to note as well.

As Ma'zurah busied herself with the innkeeper, the bard took a bow to scattered applause and made his way to a table for a break. Fayrl smiled. How fortuitous, he thought as he slipped past the other patrons around the fire and slid in front of the man, seating himself on the table in front of the bard.

"You play beautifully," Fayrl said with a smile like a cat waiting for a fish.

Ma'zurah discovered that although her Khajiit-ness was suspect, her coin was acceptable, and she paid for a room, then turned to find Fayrl. She discovered him near the bard with a predatory look in his face. What was he up to now? She swiftly walked toward him and took his elbow. "Oh husband dear, they have a room for us. Pester the bard some other time." She gave him a tight smile and started trying to drag him by the arm toward the stairs.

The bard seemed to be intrigued by the interest, but not particularly sorry to see Fayrl dragged away. "I'll find you later, my muse!" Fayrl called to him.

Once they were out of sight, Fayrl dropped the act and followed without any problem. "Sorry, I am just so desperate to have a lute back in my hands."

Ma'zurah closed the door to their room firmly behind them. "Ma'zurah is sure that Fayrl can find a lute without doing whatever it is he was planning on doing to that poor bard. Now. Fayrl and Ma'zurah need to have a little chat." Ma'zurah crossed her arms.

Fayrl sighed. He did like the look of the lute, but the sound could have been richer. He would have to find a lute maker instead. "Of course, what should we discuss?"

"First off, what the fuck is this?" Ma'zurah gestured between herself and Fayrl. "Ma'zurah does not appreciate such blatant falsehoods without her consent."

Fayrl raised an eyebrow. "There's no need for harsh language. I am simply lubricating the social interactions. If we appear have a romantic connection, then there are many questions which no one will ask. It is simply a matter of easing our passing through." Fayrl spoke as if this was the most obvious and natural fact in the world.

Ma'zurah narrowed her eyes at him. "The best lies are ninety percent truth. Ma'zurah wonders if Fayrl wishes to be caught. Ma'zurah cannot keep track of every single story Fayrl tells! And she questions the need for lies here in the first place! We are in a new place with no idea what is going on! Better to stick to the truth whenever possible so we do not accidentally cross one another. Does Fayrl wish to be allies or no?"

Fayrl reached behind his head and began to remove the many pins and clips holding his hair in place, letting it down before he spoke. He placed the many items on the table in near Ma'zurah.

"Where I come from there is nothing safe,” he explained. “There is always someone trying to drop something in your drink, a blade they wish to stick in you, a spell they wish you to succumb to. I do not tell lies which matter to the people I am telling them to. I have stuck to the same story for those we will see again while we are here, but knowing these people and the lives they lead, they won't recall one way or the other after they've had their next round of mead."

He picked up one of the hairpins, spinning it between his fingers. "I will not lie to you about anything to do with our survival or finding a way out of this time. My success depends on yours. Allying myself to you is my only hope of escape."

He slid the end off the pin to reveal a sharpened tip that looked coated in something. "If anyone grows suspicious, I have ways to keep them from turning on us."

Ma'zurah took Fayrl's wrist and took the pin out of his hand carefully, putting it back on the table. "Ma'zurah has seen enough death. Ma'zurah would rather not see more. Especially before we know what our situation truly is.”

Fayrl made no move to stop her as she took the pin from him. "It is a sleeping draught. I never said anything about murder. I have dream elixirs and truth serums. All manner of little potions to convince naughty Nords to do as we need."

Ma’zurah pressed her lips together. “You know, Fayrl does make a good point. His survival does depend on Ma'zurah. But so far, he has not done much to make Ma'zurah trust him. This place is not the place Fayrl came from. Nobody knows us here." Ma'zurah sat on the bed and patted the spot next to her. "So come. Tell Ma'zurah who Fayrl is without the web of intrigue he had surrounded himself with. Without the friends or enemies or resources."

Fayrl thought about trust. It was a funny thing indeed. It was needed to survive, yet giving it to the wrong person for even a moment could be disastrous.

He laughed suddenly. "You are right not to trust me. I am a shifty fellow. I make my living by spinning lies and soothing secrets out of others. I rarely do anything worth placing trust in." He sighed at the thought. "Though I suppose that is little comfort for you right now." He sat down beside her on the bed. "Would you even be able to believe me if I told you the truth? I think the lies are easier to swallow. More believable too."

Ma’zurah tapped her nose in thought. "Ma'zurah asked Fayrl why she should trust him, and he replied that he must be allies with her in order to survive, and Ma'zurah believes this. Ma'zurah also believes she does not need Fayrl in order to survive. It is therefore in Fayrl's best interest to be as honest as possible with Ma'zurah. However, if Fayrl is hesitant to do so, Ma'zurah will tell him something about herself that may make it easier for him to trust Ma’zurah."

Ma'zurah took off her necklace and unclasped it, withdrawing two rings and slipping them onto her fingers before placing the necklace back around her neck. She held out her hand to Fayrl. "What does Fayrl see?"

The first of the rings looked familiar to Fayrl. A stylized silver oval with a midnight blue stone at the center, flecked with spots of white like stars. He had seen it in a history book somewhere perhaps? The ring felt like something important that he just could not quite recall.

But the other--he almost recoiled from the sight of it. There was no way it could be before him. His mother had spoken of the ring when she taught him as a boy from the stories the Ashlanders had told to her. He had seen pictures of it: a crescent moon with a five pointed star superimposed over the widest part. He’d heard its tales.

Suddenly everything came together, like a fog lifting. He inhaled sharply. "Who are you?"

"How familiar is Fayrl with the prophecies of the Velothi people?"

"I have certainly spoken with Velothi before and heard tales here or there."

Ma'zurah paused and sighed. "Ma'zurah's full name is Indoril Hlaalu Ma'zurah Nerevar Mora, depending on who you ask, and if you want to be technical."

Fayrl stared at her. "I don't understand." He tried to figure out how all of those elements might somehow come together. No matter how he tried, he couldn't. His mind rejected the conclusion it kept drawing.

Ma'zurah sighed in frustration. "Ma'zurah hoped Fayrl would understand better, especially since he is a follower of the True Tribunal. But Ma'zurah can be more explicit. Ma'zurah is the child of Azurah. The Incarnate. Indoril Nerevar reborn." She watched Fayrl’s reaction carefully.

Fayrl put his hands up to his face and rubbed his temples. "Are there any other connections to deities I should be aware of before we continue?"

If she was telling him the truth, which, by the Three, it was a big pill to swallow, then all his actions... Oh, he didn't even want to think of how rude he had been. Claiming to be husband to the child of his god, the ancestor of his own ancestors. Wait, that would make them related to some degree, wouldn't it?

Suddenly his own complicated background seemed less so.

Ma'zurah coughed. "Ai, well… That depends on what Fayrl means by connections. And deities. This one defeated the Sharmat. This one was also forced to kill Almalexia when she went insane and murdered Sotha Sil. And this one considers Vivec to be a great companion, albeit an untrustworthy one." Ma'zurah looked uncomfortable. "And this one honors all of the True Tribunal, not just Azurah. But Ma'zurah was also raised to honor the ways of the Khajiiti Clan Mothers, and shows reverence to all gods as is appropriate. This one has spoken to many gods."

Fayrl couldn't understand. "Almalexia is dead?!" He could feel his heart racing. She was the one who had sent him on his last mission to kill the traitors in exchange for his life. He has spoken to her not so very long ago. Though now centuries had passed. The great "Mother Morrowind", now no more.

He tried to let that sink in, but there was so much. "She killed Sotha Sil? Is… is Almsivi no more?"

He had mixed feelings about this. On the one hand, he did not believe they deserved the power they had stolen. But they were still gods. Almalexia had kept his city safe. His father reported directly to her. He had spent a great deal of time in her presence; fought in her army under her command.

He may not have followed her spiritually, but for the good of his home and his people he did follow her. He was torn about this news. Far more than he would ever have suspected himself to possibly be.

"If not Almsivi, then who are our people following? Vivec alone?" He could not even listen to this, it was too much.

Worse, there was a very real possibility he was stranded here. Left in the future for good. What had become of his family? His son? Oh, by the Three, what would happen to Sildras if he could not return? If the Tribunal Temple collapsed, surely his House would fall apart. It was remotely possible that in Ma'zurah's time his son could still be alive, though quite aged. But... was he? He could not speak further. He could not ask that question, though she might not know his son regardless of his fate.

"Ma'zurah was in the process of assisting Vivec in returning the people's faith to the True Tribunal," Ma’zurah answered gently. Seeing Fayrl's distress she scooted closer to him and put one arm around him and took his hand.

Fayrl tried to understand what she was telling him. Then he felt Ma’zurah’s touch, and a series of images began to flash before his eyes. His body froze stiff, as Ma’zurah’s memories began to take over his consciousness.

He was being cast out. Exiled for something he couldn’t help. He looked over his shoulder at the small jungle village along the waterway. He was overtaken with a crippling sense of loneliness. An elderly Khajiit woman led him away as he cried silent tears of grief.

The elderly Khajiit woman lay dead in her bed. He sobbed over her body, feeling grief stricken and utterly alone in the world.

He was kissing an Imperial boy. The boy began groping his breasts and taking his clothes off. He eagerly assisted, and began taking off his trousers, exposing white furred thighs and a stiff, pink-skinned erection. The boy became angry. He didn’t understand. The boy tried to hit him. He cast an invisibility spell and fled, angry, lonely, and afraid.

He awoke on a boat, scared. He did not know where the boat was taking him. He did not know why he was there. A Dunmer with a scarred face and a missing eye tried to soothe him. They had just arrived in Morrowind, the Dunmer said; he was sure they would let them go. It was not comforting.

A figure with three eyes in a golden mask shaped like a sunburst taunted him and tortured him in his dreams. Deep bells tolled. He awoke naked, sweating, with damp fur, only to be attacked by a creature that used to be a mer, now with only a grotesque hollow where its eyes and nose should be.

A handsome Dunmer was yelling at him, calling him n’wah, accusing him of being a traitor, a spy for his enemies. “You betrayed me, and I will never forgive you!” the mer screamed. He felt heartbroken and angry at the same time.

He was angry. So incredibly angry. The handsome Dunmer had been taunting him! He decided to taunt the Dunmer right back. He took off his clothes and masturbated in the mer’s face. The mer hid in his bedroll. He went to his own bedroll and lay there for a while with an uncomfortable erection before sighing and finished himself off. He sobbed for half the night, feeling heartsick and utterly lonely.

He had a horrible illness. He was going to die. No one ever survived. His fur was falling out in chunks, and his skin was covered in boils. He couldn’t even think. The handsome Dunmer looked at him in horror and poorly disguised disgust, and he felt like he was becoming a monster. He did not want to die alone.

He was at a party, but the guests were all dead. Another dream. Another attack. Another horrible creature. And bells. Always bells!

He was in a cave. A horrifying enemy with tentacles instead of a face fought him. He was hurt badly. The handsome Dunmer dragged him to safety and ran back in to defeat the creature.

He was running frantically through a foyada in an ash storm. His fur was caked with ash. His clothes were covered in ash. He was crying and his tears were filled with ash. He was sick with worry. He swiped the tears from his face frantically, trying to continue searching the walls of the foyada through ash reddened eyes.

He was in a cave. A swarm of ghosts were attacking the handsome Dunmer. He screamed at them to stop, terrified for the mer. The ghosts demanded blood.

Bells haunted his dreams over and over, always heralding the arrival of another attacker in the waking world. He forced himself to wake up and fight.

He awoke suddenly, with a creeping sense of dread and the certain knowledge that he and his lovers were not the only ones in the room. He glanced at the handsome Dunmer and the beautiful Dunmer girl with long red hair who lay naked beside him. They were exactly where they were supposed to be, sleeping peacefully, but an assassin in the dark still stalked him. He cast a shield just in time to block the first blow.

He was in the crater of a volcano. Red Mountain. There was magma far below him, and a huge animunculi rising from the center of the crater. Four other people accompanied him, including the handsome Dunmer and the beautiful Dunmer girl, all with and grim expressions. The figure in the golden mask attacked them. “What a fool you are!” the figure mocked in a voice that reverberated in his skull and rattled his teeth. “I am a god! How can you kill a god? What a grand and intoxicating innocence. How could you be so naive? There is no escape.” He was terrified.

Sotha Sil, dead. Strung up by long wires in his own Clockwork City. Horror gripped him. There was a voice behind him--Almalexia in her war mask. “Here it ends. This Clockwork City was to be your death. You were to be my greatest martyr!”

Almalexia, dead on the ground. He reached out one white furred hand and removed her war mask. Her face was so vulnerable underneath. So mortal. The handsome Dunmer skittishly stalked Almalexia’s body as though he thought she might come to life again. Beside him the beautiful Dunmer girl with long red hair wept on her knees. He wept as well.

He awoke slowly, filled with a prickling horror. He wasn’t where he had gone to sleep. He opened his eyes to see a figure twirling a spear. The figure had a head like the skull of a deer. He listened to the figure with horror. He was still in his sleeping clothes. He had no weapon except his magicka. He had been kidnapped. He was trapped. He was prey. He was going to be hunted.

He was in a huge ice cave. He fought an ice giant by himself. His sleeping clothes were torn and dirty. He still had no weapon except his magicka. The ice giant fell. The figure with the head like the skull of a deer appeared again. Now he had to fight the figure too. That was even more terrifying than the ice giant. He was exhausted. He was not sure he could survive any longer.

Fayrl did not speak. His body shook slightly in Ma’zurah’s arms. Tears welled in his eyes and his face contorted in anguish. He gave a soft hiccuping sob. Ma'zurah drew back and looked at him. "Fayrl? Are you alright?"

Fayrl only stared ahead at nothing, trembling imperceptibly. Tears rolled down his cheeks.

Ma'zurah peered into Fayrl's eyes worriedly. "Was it something Ma'zurah said?"

Fayrl gasped suddenly, as though he had just surfaced from a long underwater dive. His chest heaved and he drew in ragged breaths. He shook his head, unable to speak as he caught his breath again.

He opened his mouth, but a sob came out instead of words. He reached into his satchel and pulled out a small flask, downing the contents. It seemed to get him under control.

"I am very sorry. I have not had such an intense reaction in a very long time, and I was not prepared. You must forgive me. I did not mean to worry you."

Ma'zurah blinked at him, confused and concerned. "Alright..."

"I am afraid that you have unwittingly shared far more with me than you may have meant to."

He looked away from her. The sight of her face pulled at the memories that were still dissipating from his mind. He could still feel her anguish.

"I have been granted a gift, though it is not an easy one to bear. And from it I see the secrets, the hurts, and the sins, of other people through their own memories when I touch their skin."

Comprehension dawned on her face and she leaned back, wrapping her arms around herself, and looking away, embarrassed. "Ai... Ma’zurah is sorry... she would not wish her worst experiences on anyone else. She meant to comfort, not hurt."

Fayrl wiped the tears from his cheeks, a smile already twitching at his lips. He set a hand upon her shoulder.

"I am sorry for the pain you have suffered in your life. I can see why you feel the need to have me prove my trustworthiness. And as much as I can trust a person who I have only known a few hours and have traveled to the wrong century with, I do trust you, Ma'zurah."

He pulled from under his tunic the pendant of Azura which his mother had given him to protect him. It had protected her, and she had given it to him when he had completed his apprenticeship and officially become an adult.

"I have little with which to show my trust, save this. It was mother's." He placed it around her neck. So long as you have this, I will do as you ask. It is the most precious thing I have besides my life. I promise I will answer any of your questions honestly."

Ma'zurah blinked in surprise. "Thank you..." She touched the pendant and examined it, then glanced back up at him. She couldn't be angry at him for lying anymore. She smiled hesitantly, and reached out to him, but paused. "It doesn't happen everytime you touch someone, does it?"

Fayrl's smile widened. "After the initial time it does not affect me unless I permit it to. It is the strongest the first time."

"Okay!" She hugged him.

Fayrl was surprised by the action, but the feeling of her warm arms around him was nice; comfortable.

Ma'zurah drew back, smiling. "Alright. So. What should Ma'zurah know about Fayrl?"

Fayrl look a breath. "Where should I even begin? My full name is Indoril Fayrl Indoril, son of Indoril Mehra Indoril. My wife Urtisa, may the Three have no mercy upon her devious soul, plotted against me and my House. She was of House Hlaalu. She tried to control me, and when I would not cooperate, she attempted to have me assassinated. I escaped to Skyrim, where I spent six years before encountering my brother by chance and learning I had a son by her who she was submitting to the same controlling fate. I returned and denounced her, and reclaimed custody of my son, Sildras. My wife is now sentenced into the service to Almalexia until she dies, and I have been continuing to work for the Temple ever since."

Ma'zurah nodded. "As a spy and assassin?" She glanced at the hair ornaments on the table. It seemed like the only reasonable conclusion she could draw based on what he had told her thus far.

He nodded. "Indeed. A position I had held within the House for many decades before that."

"Ma'zurah understands. She was an Imperial Blade for a while, even if she was not the greatest at keeping it secret. What else?"

Fayrl was surprised by how quickly Ma'zurah seemed to accept all of this. "I don’t know, what else there is? I follow the True Tribunal, but my personal affiliation is to Mephala. It is she who granted me the gift which you saw earlier. And, if all goes well, my loyalty to her will give us a shot at returning home. The boy in the keep--he has some connection to Mephala, I felt the strong pull of her touch upon him."

Ma'zurah grinned. "Excellent. Ma'zurah would like to come when Fayrl goes to see him. Does Fayrl have any questions for Ma'zurah?"

Fayrl immediately thought of one question, though he worried it might be insensitive, so he decided to talk around it.

"Is there anyone you left back in your time? Anyone you wish were here with you now?"

Ma'zurah immediately sobered. "Ma'zurah has a girlfriend and a fiance, and she has friends she wishes she could see."

"Then I am sorry you do not have their company now." That answered the question of who it was he had seen in the memories.

He did have one other very sobering question. "Ma'zurah, do you think there is any chance we may actually be able to get back to our own times?"

"Of course! Ma'zurah will break down the doors to all the Daedric realms if she has to. She has killed two gods and defeated a third, she does not fear Daedra."

Fayrl was a bit unsettled by her confidence. She seemed to truly believe that she could do it. And if she had killed two gods and defeated a third... he needed to follow her instructions. He had seen what Almalexia could do to a mortal body. He had watched a mer ripped apart by her divine light from the inside out once. If Ma'zurah could take her on and win, he stood no chance against her.

Ma'zurah glanced around the room. "We still have to figure out when we are, and honestly, Ma'zurah is not even sure what the hour is right now. We could ask around for a calendar or an almanac or something, or go to that Companion place, or meet this boy you mentioned. Ma'zurah thinks we should stay together though. If one of us finds a way back, the other one does not need to become stranded."

Fayrl nodded. "The Companions invited us for dinner. I say we see what we can learn while being given a full belly of food. If they are anything like they were in my time, a good song of their glories in battle and they will be like dogs on a lead."

Ma'zurah raised her eyebrows. "Maybe do not say that to their face.”

"Obviously I would never say such things to their face. You are a friend, so I am merely sharing some information."

Ma'zurah nodded. “So you are a bard? Ma'zurah was in training to become a Wise Woman with the Ahemmusa, but she is not sure how useful that will be in Skyrim."

Fayrl reached into his bag again and pulled out a comb and began to run it through his hair. "I have been a bard, almost as long as I have been a spy. It is one of the ways I make money. If I had a lute, I would play a song for you. Alas, my beautiful lute is back in my time."

He stopped combing to throw himself dramatically back upon the mattress. "I am sure that it will have been stolen by now, along with Tel, my guar, and all of the rest of my belongings. Maaah, I am so naked without it!"

Ma'zurah snorted. "Your guar is named Tel? Is he very tall?" She eyed the comb jealously.

Fayrl laughed, sitting up and holding the comb lightly in his hand. "Truth be told, I was given him with the name already. He is not so much taller than other guar, but I can attest to his standing out amongst guar. He has good stamina and speed, as well as power. And a good temperament to boot."

Noticing Ma'zurah's gaze, he offered the comb to her. "Did you need a comb?"

Ma'zurah swiped the comb and ran it through her hair and fur. "Many thanks. Ma'zurah does not have any of her grooming brushes with her. She did not expect to be in Oblivion long enough!" She carefully sleeked down the fur of her face, and her tribal scars, a line of dots under her eyes, became more apparent once her fur was more in order.

Fayrl smiled and pulled out a soft bristled brush as well. "If there is anything else you need, I have oils and conditioners as well as perfumes."

He took out the small kit of vials and slid one side of it off, putting the other one back in. There was a variety of small containers and vials. "This is all of my oils and makeup, if you should have need for it. But I would advise staying away from the other side. The poisons and potions are labeled so as to mislead."

"The thing Ma'zurah needs the most is probably a curry comb. But smaller than the kind they use for horses. It is the most useful tool for keeping Khajiit clean when water is not available..." She brightened. "Oh! Ma'zurah saw a Khajiit caravan camped outside! They may have one. Ma'zurah wishes she could go check, but she doubts the guard would let her back in... and... now that she thinks about it, it is probably dangerous here for Ma'zurah on her own. Gods... Why Skyrim, Azurah?"

Fayrl recognized Ma’zurah’s look. It reminded him of his husband, Qau-dar, not long after they had first met. He remembered the kit of combs and brushes he kept for his fur, and how fastidious he was about keeping it clean. "I don't have anything like that on me, but I am sure we could search the markets to find something." Fayrl did not know what else to say to help ease her distress, so he tried a joke. "Could be worse, we could be on the Emerald Isles."

"The where now? Is that in Summerset?" Ma'zurah took a soft bristled brush and began smoothing down the fur of her tail.

It was a poor joke, he had known that. But it went over even worse than he had thought. Fayrl thought he should offer some comfort; it hadn't been as though she had meant to send them here. How they even ended up in the same time and place in Oblivion was its own mystery.

He reached out and hesitated. "If it is alright, I could massage your shoulders. It’s one of my hard earned talents that hardly sees any use to those who deserve them."

Ma'zurah smiled and looked down. "That sounds lovely." She turned around with her back toward him and removed her tightly woven scarf from around her neck.

"If Fayrl doesn't mind her asking, may Ma'zurah inquire what Fayrl was doing before he got trapped in Oblivion?"

Fayrl got on his knees behind her, using his thumb to work the base of her neck, the rest of his fingers wrapped over her shoulders and working with slightly less pressure there.

Fayrl paused when he heard the question, then continued. "I hope you will not think poorly of me, but I was disposing of the evidence of a crime I had committed."

Ma'zurah laughed. "That depends on the crime and why. What did Fayrl do? Steal an Elder Scroll? Free slaves? Infiltrate a Telvanni Master's tower?"

Fayrl took a deep breath, moving his hands across her shoulders. "I killed a man."

"Ma'zurah has done that too. Though they were usually smugglers. Or slavers. What did that one do?" Ma'zurah leaned into Fayrl's hands.

"He was selling information to our enemies in exchange for slaves which he would sell to the same people he was extracting secrets from. He also sold young, naive Pact citizens to brothels in the Convenient." Fayrl switched from using his thumbs against the knots in her shoulder to the base of his palm, working deeper into the muscles.

He moved back towards the spine and walked his palms down to the small of her back, glided them up to her shoulders before repeating again. "He was convinced I was a potential target he could bring out to a secluded area, drug, and then sell."

Fayrl could still remember the joy the man had every time he tricked some poor young mer or Argonian or Nord into coming with him under promises of a job or cheap opportunities to travel, or any number of similar excuses. He could feel the fear that each of those slaves had once that bastard had them shackled and began to evaluate them for market, taking his chance to test their various abilities if he so chose. He could feel those greasy hands on his body.

"I switched our glasses and pretended to succumb to his paralysis potion. And then when it took effect on him instead, I got up and I slit his throat. I had touched him, and I saw enough that I may have been rather angry with him. There was little left to recognize when I dumped his body in the ruins for the cultists to use as they like." A shiver ran through him.

"He sounds disgusting. Ma'zurah hardly thinks that was a crime."

"He was worth less than the air he breathed or the ground upon which he trod."

He had to let the thoughts of the vile man go and concentrate on the task at hand. He worked in wider lines, going further out over Ma'zurah's back.

Ma'zurah began purring. "Ma'zurah does not know too much about the Ebonheart Pact. Ma'zurah mostly studied only magickal history at the Arcane University, not political history. Something about Morrowind being invaded by the Akaviri, so the Argonians, Dunmer, and Nords banded together and drove them out. Not much more than that." She sighed at the relief Fayrl's hands were working on her body.

"Yes, the Pact was formed after Akaviri invaders tried to capture Skyrim. They took Windhelm, but were pushed out by a force led by King Jorunn, so they made a deeper bid for Morrowind. Perhaps they didn’t expect the Nords to pursue them into Morrowind. Almalexia's armies were joined by reinforcements from the Nords and Argonians, and managed to run the entire fetching horde into the sea.”

“After that, we agreed as peoples to come together to defend against future need. Morrowind agreed, as part of the signing, to release their slaves. The Telvanni refused to be a part of the Pact, and the Dres managed to convince the grand council that they only needed to release the slaves that were a part of the Pact, while turning their former slaves into servants, who they treat no better than before. Skyrim was also divided. Only four of the holds joined us. Black Marsh joined for the chance to earn their freedom, though it has been a slow process to dissolve the occupational government."

"Hmpf,” Ma’zurah scoffed. “The Houses in Morrowind that Ma'zurah knows are honestly not much better. At least the Dres were not on Vvardenfell. Ma'zurah joined the Hlaalu when she first got to Vvardenfell because they were supposed to be the most friendly. Hah. No, their leadership had been corrupted by the Camonna Tong. When Ma'zurah became Hortator, she got rid of that corruption by getting rid of the Camonna Tong leader. There is still rumors though about increased writs against Redoran for some reason. No idea. Ma'zurah spent most of her time in the Ashlands or the Grazelands at that point. She was more interested in the Velothi."

Fayrl sighed. Sometimes he wished he had grown up in the Ashlands instead of the city. "I do not know how time has changed them, but the Hlaalu in my time were always two faced and ready to support any two-bit organization that would bolster their power base. They were money hungry and power greedy. It is a surprise they managed to subsist into your time at all."

Fayrl did not hold back the tension in his voice. He had a scar on his shoulder from where a Hlaalu assassin had tried to kill him. The poison had kept it from healing entirely. It was the first time he had ever come face to face with any of those attempting to take his life. The fetcher had been hired by a Hlaalu who did not appreciate the way his mother was voting in the grand council.

"Ma'zurah half wishes she never joined at all. Indoril and Hlaalu both claim her, and there is no convincing either out of it. Nobody needs a Hortator anymore, the Sharmat is gone. The only good Ma'zurah was doing was religious guidance."

"Morrowind must be a very different place. In my time if you are part of a House, you are only part of that one. If you switch, you are supposed to swear your loyalty over to the other, though in your situation, I can't imagine what the rules might be."

Ma’zurah sighed and moved to stand up. "Perhaps we should at least walk around the market. Ma'zurah is dying of curiosity to find out about the world here."

Fayrl released his hold on Ma'zurah, getting to his feet to let her off the bed. "That is a good idea. We should procure your combs before shops close for the night. One second, let me fix my hair."

Ma’zurah watched as Fayrl carefully put all the pins back into his hair. She fidgeted, smoothing the fur of her tail. "No, see Indoril claims this one because of Nerevar, and Hlaalu claims this one because of Ma'zurah even though she has never been particularly active in the House. It is all just a mess, and this one would rather wash her hands of it."

"Well, I suppose so long as we are here, you don't have to worry about it." He offered her his arm. “Shall we?”

Ma'zurah smiled and hooked her hand under Fayrl's arm, and the pair walked out of their room.

As soon as they got downstairs, Fayrl spotted the bard again. He was leaning back at his table with the lute slung over the back of the empty chair besides him. It would be so easy to just go over there and take it for himself.

Ma'zurah leaned in closer. "Ma'zurah sees Fayrl eyeing the bard's lute. Ma'zurah is sure they have other lutes in this city. Fayrl has not even checked."

Fayrl pouted, mostly for show. "But that one would be easy to take. Besides, how can I be the inn's bard if he and his lute are already occupying the position?"

Ma’zurah looked amused and led them around the fire. Fayrl did not protest. "I suppose I will look elsewhere for one," he sighed as they walked out into the late afternoon sunlight.

Ma'zurah raised a whiskered brow at him. "Elsweyr is rather far to look. How about that shop Ma'zurah sees there." She nodded to a building across the market labeled general goods.

Fayrl laughed. "As you say," he replied and gestured for her to lead on. He would gladly follow her unless she planned to sabotage his efforts to return home.

Ma’zurah bit her lip. “Does Fayrl think perhaps the guards will let us back into the city if we were to try to visit the Khajiiti caravan?”

"It may be risky to get back in once the guards see us leave. If you think of a way to get back in, I know I can slip past them." If the same guard was still on duty as before, she would not let them back in. She had that look about her.

Ma’zurah sighed. "Not unless we want to climb the wall."

Fayrl chuckled. "I was planning to slip by unseen, but nothing like climbing a wall to get you ready for the evening, I suppose."

Ma’zurah began walking across the market square, but was intercepted by one of the Companions, Ria, the young Imperial girl who had been fighting the giant. She called out to them.

"Oh! Hey! I was just coming to find you! I didn't know if you knew where to go. Would you like me to walk you to Jorrvaskr?"

Fayrl looked between the Ma'zurah and the new arrival. "Well hello, Companion. Hail and well met! We were just perusing the market for a good host gift before we headed over to Jorrvaskr. Though, we would certainly be happy for your assistance." He looked at Ma'zurah for help. He really did want to go shopping.

Ria laughed. "Oh no no, that's fine! You don't need to get us a gift! You can just head over now if you like."

Ma'zurah skipped forward. "Certainly! Ma'zurah has not eaten all day she thinks." She paused and turned to Fayrl. "Is Fayrl coming?"

"But dear, don't you think it would be rude not to bring something? They have been so kind to us so far." Just a peek into the shops would be enough to tell him if they had a lute.

Ma'zurah rolled her eyes and took Fayrl’s hand. "Ma'zurah thinks if that one says we should come now, then we should come now."

Fayrl sighed and allowed himself to be led through the city to the hall of the Companions.

End Notes:

Fayrl’s tumblr: @talldarkandroguesome

Fayrl’s husband, Qau-dar, belongs to @warmsandstraveler. Fayrl’s author has an ongoing, publically available RP going with him and several other people in an alternate timeline in which nobody gets lost in time.

You can read the journal of Fayrl’s ‘brother’, Avon, at @avon-m-dunaag. He participates in the ongoing, publically available RP with Fayrl, though his updates are not nearly as frequent.

Some of the memories of Ma'zurah's past that Fayrl accesses are stories that have not yet been written, but one of them can be read about in the story Betrayal and Reconciliation here.

Screenshot of Fayrl Screenshot of Ma’zurah Check out my art tag for more pictures of Fayrl and Ma’zurah.

Constructive criticism is welcome. We also really like it if you leave comments on Ao3.

[dinosrpg]

Nerevarine: The Reprise - Chapter Seven

Rain lightly fell as Sheev-La and Sevana ventured down the road to Riverwood, making their way to the road along the town's namesake river.  By midday, according to Sheev-La's estimates, they would arrive at the town where they could continue their trek to the barrow.  Plenty of time, Sevana thought, to probe the hero for information, learn more about the mysterious woman.

"So... shall we talk tactics?  Specialties?" the Dunmer started, giving her companion a gentle nudge.  The Argonian had been rather quiet since her outburst in the middle of the night, almost despondent, even.  "I mean, you're obviously an accomplished warrior.  It's almost laughable that I would be the one you would be assis--"

"I'm not that good," Sheev-La cut in, perhaps too harshly by her own judgment.  Sevana bit her tongue, simply hoping she hadn't pressed too hard.  "More swords are always welcome.  As with eyes and ears.  Keeps flanking and placement from getting too out-of-hand.  But yes... I'm good with a bow and swords.  I know some magic as well, but nothing involving the elements or healing.  What about you?"

"I was schooled in Destruction, Conjuration, and Restoration," Sevana started, relaxing a little.  "As you've seen, I keep myself in good physical condition, as well.  That extends to some weapon-based martial arts involving two-handed weaponry.  I prefer to summon such weaponry to give myself an offensive option once I've felt my magicka has depleted."

"That's quite the set of skills," the Argonian offered, forcing a smile despite her low spirits.  "I almost feel outclassed," she chuckled.

"Me?  Outclassing the Nerevarine?" Sevana jested in turn, smiling back at her.  "I think that might be added to my list of qualifications, if you don't mind."

"By all means.  Can't wait to see a prospective employer look at you as though you'd told them you were Tiber Septim."  Sevana laughed.

"I trust you'll be watching through the window, then?" the Dunmer teased, the Argonian laughing in kind.

"Indeed," Sheev-La giggled, glad to have someone to talk to again.  It had been so long since she had spoken earnestly with anyone.

Further down the road, after a comfortable lull in the conversation, the Dunmer began to fidget, something clearly bothering her.  Sheev-La couldn't help but suspect she had questions.  Everyone had questions for the Nerevarine.

"You don't have to hold back, Sevana.  Tell me what's on your mind."

"I don't want to overburden you with questions, Sheev-La.  I can only guess what the nightmare you had last night contained, and I doubt my imagination can even touch on what would terrify a hero."

"It was Red Mountain.  The... last time I went there."

"You don't have to talk about this if you don't want to," Sevana reaffirmed, a hand on the Argonian's shoulder.

"Thank you... but I think two hundred years is too long to hold onto these thoughts alone.  So long as you're prepared for knowing what only a handful of people know."

"It's almost like signing a pact with Hermaeus Mora," Sevana remarked, taking a deep breath.

"It very well may be.  Be cautious with this information, alright?  I'm not sure my heart could take another life lost to my story."

"I will.  Promise," she nodded, the Nerevarine taking a deep breath of their own in relief.

"Now... ask what it is you wish to ask.  Hold nothing back."

"Are you... actually Indoril Nerevar?  I understand you are Nerevar reincarnated, but... what exactly is the nature of your reincarnation?  His reincarnation..."

"I am indeed Nerevar, as they once stood and breathed.  For decades, I lived as Sheev-La, unaware of my memories until I returned to Vvardenfell and learned of my past self.  Nibani Maesa, an Ashlander wise-woman, was the one to awaken my dormant self, to unlock those memories I had hidden from myself.  Or... perhaps that Azura had hidden from me.  In either case, I awoke.  In that moment, and in all moments, I became and remain both Indoril Nerevar and Sheev-La.  In some moments, I affiliate with my past self.  In others, I am very much Sheev-La.  My self-image changes accordingly, and I know that must be strange, but... that is the way of such unusual things, it seems.  To return from the dead is no small feat, and Oblivion only knows how difficult it must have been for Azura to conjure my very soul."

Sevana blinked, feeling weighted by such an answer.  And yet, relieved in a way.  Such a mystery was never truly explored in the short time Sheev-La had remained among the Dunmer, and to have been one to ask such an intimate question, let alone to be met with such an earnest answer, was an accomplishment few could have aspired to achieve.  "Is... your existence a burden on yourself?  I can't imagine how difficult it must be to handle two lives' worth of memories, if not more..."

"Only when I think about it," the Argonian sighed, rolling their head back.  "Sometimes I'm reminded of events long past.  Terrible memories.  But, there are good ones there.  They... surface more rarely than the tragedies, sadly.  In fact... speaking about such philosophical concepts reminds me of Sotha Sil.  In the days of the First Council, we often ruminated on the meaning of fate, of destiny."

Sevana held her tongue for a few moments, giving them a moment to collect themselves.  She couldn't say if such a reminder was one to be cherished or one that brought them pain, but whatever they thought, she felt she couldn't interrupt that moment without their approval.

"Please, continue," the Nerevarine reassured her, managing a smile.

"I just wanted to give you a moment," Sevana comforted them, the Argonian nodding appreciatively.  "So... I suppose the big question is what truly happened at the Battle at Red Mountain?"

"Alandro Sul's account was... not too far from the truth, if you've read it."

"I haven't read it in years, if you don't mind recounting it.  I just don't want to push this too far if you feel you're not ready to relive it aloud."

"Thank you, Sevana, but in all honesty, I should have spoken up about this long ago.  People deserve to know the truth, and it was selfish of me not to publish my own firsthand account while I had the ears of the Dunmer.  But the story was as thus:

"King Dumac and I held the peace together, despite everything that happened.  It was Kagrenac who threatened everything, and Voryn Dagoth was the one to learn of the Heart of Lorkhan's discovery.  While Kagrenac toiled in secret, I confronted Dumac, flanked by my council and retinue.  I feared the worst.  But he denied knowing anything about the damned thing.  History confirms his account, but the pangs of perceived betrayal clawed at my heart after all we had done together, after the love we had shared.  I had the council call upon Azura to confirm Voryn's findings... and with her confirmation, I declared war on my lover.

"It pains me to this day that I didn't hold myself and the council at bay...  To think of all that could have been different...  But alas... we warred.  And in the ultimate battle, I had Vivec, Almalexia, and Sotha Sil direct my forces to draw out Dumac's own while Voryn and I crept into the Heart chamber.  Dumac and I battled fiercely, and I... I slew him... but he wounded me.  Mortally.  Voryn and Kagrenac battled alongside us, but Voryn was the clear victor, acquiring the accursed tools that had been used to make the Dwemer near-unstoppable.  Azura came to us in our hour of need and told us how to use the tools, which Voryn did.  However, in his workings, something... went awry.  Something no one could have anticipated.  The Dwemer disintegrated.  Or... at least their bodies did.  In an instant, the war was over.  I was bleeding, exhausted, and terrified at what we had done when Voryn came to me with the tools, begging for me to give him the order to destroy the things.  In that moment... I panicked.  I told him to wait for me and safeguard the tools... and he obeyed...  By all that is good and just in this world, he obeyed..."  The Argonian sniffed and shuddered as they thought back to that moment, their eye burning with tears begging to be shed.  Sevana gripped their shoulder, looking more than a little worried, but the Nerevarine collected themselves, clearing their throat and rubbing their eye.

"You can stop if you want..." the Dunmer insisted.

"No... no, it's fine," they assured her, groaning and doing their damnedest to power through the pain.  They had done it for so long; this was nothing compared to what they had suffered in the past.

"Voryn stayed... and I went to summon the council.  I'd ignored them for too long when it came to my alliance and intimacy with Dumac, and I was loathe to act without their guidance again, for fear I would make things worse.  I told them what happened, and then we returned to Voryn to consider our... our next course of action.  But he had already succumbed to madness... to lust for power.  Those cursed tools twisted his mind.  I can't remember who brought it to blows, but... we drove him off.  We took the tools back from him.  I was distraught...  I made my councilors swear to Azura not to sully his honor or memory by using the tools.  They swore on Azura... and Azura heard.  And then, when I... when I turned to face the Numidium... I felt something pierce my back and push further until everything went dark.  I was... I was betrayed..."

"You did what you felt was best," Sevana reassured them, turning to place her hands on the Argonian's shoulders and look into that tired, clouded eye.  "It had to be done.  To have your wits about you in that moment is a feat of endurance that songs are written about.  The fact that you were able to do anything so decisively after such a battle is nothing short of legendary.  You... are a hero, Sheev-La.  You stayed true to your station and your people in a moment of vulnerability."

"I didn't feel like it...  I still don't feel like it..." they whimpered, lip quivering.  The Dunmer hugged them.

"We're all still standing here today because of you.  If nothing else... take solace in that."