#im-kilaya

[mareenavee]

Light The Way

Happy birthday, @thana-topsy <3 Neloth rambles, so I let him. Enjoy your Morrowfic :3

Light the Way

--- Please check the AO3 tags on this one. ---

“This is the most absurd thing I’ve ever heard,” Neloth said. “Though I should hardly be surprised, considering it’s you.”

Teldryn Sero, fool that he was, had the nerve to sigh. Dramatically. He did rather have a flair for that. All things considered, Neloth doubted he’d act any other way, what with the Nerevarine nonsense hanging over his head. An inflated sense of self is all it amounted to, really. And if Neloth knew anything, it was how to deflect that, much to Sero’s chagrin.

“We’ve been over this, Neloth,” Sero said, scrubbing a hand over his face in exasperation. He had a new scar—a raised scratch that cut counter to the tattoos that spiraled down his face. He’d said it was a cliff racer attack. Neloth rather doubted it. “My way is more effective. Blatant murder over on the Peninsula isn’t going to win you any points with the Council. It’ll turn into a House War before you have a chance to cackle.” Sero shook his head and began to pace the room while cracking his knuckles—an annoying habit made worse by the hollow clunk of his chitin armor. Neloth grit his teeth against the urge to yell at him over the unnecessary noise and drama. “Besides, I am…they won’t let me leave Vvardenfell anytime soon. And what are you really going to do over there by yourself?”

“House Dres needs to be put in their place, and I need to regain favor after…well. You know.” He was relatively safe here in Sadrith Mora, but they’d sent the Morag Tong after him a handful of times in the recent past. Shame, that. A waste of good fighters. Neloth fidgeted with a soul gem on his bookshelf until it stood just right to refract the sun filtering in through his window. It acted like a prism and washed the floor with shifting multicolored light. For a fleeting second, the pristine order of the moment brought him peace. “There’s things you’ll never have to worry about at your rank. Or even as Hortator, if you do choose to go be whatever it is the Empire insists you’ve got to be.”

Sero’s face twisted through several emotions before it settled back into the familiar, frustrated scowl he always wore. “The Empire can go f—”

“ —yes, yes, we know your sentiment. Spare me the histrionics, if you don’t mind,” Neloth interrupted with a flap of his hand, “because we do rather have things to accomplish today if we aren’t simply going to wreak havoc on the Mainland as I’d intended.”

“You know, we will have to discuss that topic again later,” Sero drawled, scratching the back of his neck. “As much as I don’t want to. For now, though, you’re right.” He huffed and crossed his arms over his chest. “Hortator. It’s madness.”

“I told you, you’re going to have to talk to Dratha first.”

“Neloth, she hates me. And you. And everyone, I think.”

“How on Nirn could anyone hate you, oh great Nerevarine,” Neloth droned dismissively. Sero shot him a glare and threw up his hands in disbelief. He muttered to himself in Dunmeris as he leaned against a far bookshelf, fiddling with some Dwemer gear or another Divayth Fyr had brought over the last time he’d deigned to visit Tel Naga.

Neloth grinned at his own minor victory and glanced over at the distracted Nerevarine, caught in the glare from the soul gem. His frown was etched into his face. Gods only knew the weight of all he was responsible lately was heavy enough to merit the dismay. Nobody seemed quite as capable of being so sullen over something as ridiculous as the entire Nerevarine situation. Well, perhaps now that it wasn’t quite a rumor anymore, it carried more weight. If any of this was real—though Neloth still had his doubts—it was a responsibility that came with expectations even Neloth would be remiss to shrug off in favor of this abolitionist nonsense. 

He knew Sero was procrastinating. Neloth had called him on it earlier, though the comment had been deflected. Regardless, like anything worth having, he’d eventually have little choice but to take the title. Or—Sero being Sero—convince himself he’d already earned it. The utter chivalry of the entire situation got exhausting after a while. What had happened to the slovenly bandit with a chip on his shoulder? Neloth could have sworn it hadn’t been that long—months, if that—since he’d first arrived looking for, of all things, employment. It was a valid path for a reformed criminal. But a bandit with a boyish face he’d still been, nevertheless. Apparently, prophecy and legacy did a number on one’s priorities.

Though, come to think of it, Sero had never really been the type who allowed himself to be pointed in a direction and told to stab. He’d always been too clever for whatever he’d believed about himself all those years before. Not that Neloth would be caught dead telling the fool that, though.

Neloth shuddered at the implications of admitting any kind of respect for a non-mage, first of all, and an otherwise nameless urchin besides. Imagine. The Council would be in hysterics, and the ruse would be dropped, and every ounce of power he’d clawed back to himself would evaporate in the blink of an eye. No. Securing a seat on the Grand Council was imperative if he wanted to keep his status. One did not simply earn a seat the same as individual House Councils: one had to make connections—or honestly, more likely lie or commission writs to clear a spot. No. There had to be concrete proof of concept. What, exactly, could one do as a Grand Councilor that would advance the House’s position as a whole? -> Read the Rest on AO3

[aladaylessecondblog]

Return

Author's Note: Another AU of Severed Destiny. I said I wasn't gonna do this. god dammit

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

"She looks like you."

It was the last thought Sadara had before she grew too tired to keep her eyes open, but - much as she feared it - it was not her end. She woke later, with the babe swaddled in a little crib near the bed she lay in.

She sat up, and watched the little face with a tired smile.

At least I have you, she thought, Despite everything else I've lost.

The babe was beautiful, Sadara thought. So beautiful, so precious. She began to stir, and mewl when her red little eyes opened.

If only he could see you.

"Hungry?" Sadara couldn't help but laugh, whether from amusement or exhaustion or some combination of the two, she didn't know. She picked up her little one, and after somewhat awkwardly lowering the neckline of her gown, tried to direct the babe. After a few moments of difficulty the babe latched and began to nurse.

She wondered what name would suit best, trying not to hear his voice in what she assumed would be his suggestions. Old Chimer names, maybe...a wry little smile as he suggested Nerevar...

Dagoth Nerevar.

It was heard as easily as if he were standing next to her. It hurt, badly enough that she hardly wanted to think more on the subject at all.

She remembered even now, so clearly, what Gilvoth had said when she left - that he was glad she understood Voryn did not truly want her, that she was merely the casing, the vessel, for a second chance at Nerevar, whom he DID want. She had begun to think it herself even before leaving Red Mountain, when she had grown so tired of correcting him and prompting him to use her name, and merely let herself be called Nerevar. She had been so eager to keep up what they had, to feel more of that blazing love that had felt it would burn forever, that she had shut her eyes to all of it.

She assumed he must have told Voryn why she left - because he had not once been in her dreams since she left, when there had before hardly been a night he wasn't. She was alone and friendless in Morrowind once again.

Then had come the little one. There was no pushing the need for a name aside - looking at the little face, so much like his, she kept thinking.

Gandra, for gift...because she was a gift, a little light in the darkness. It didn't seem to fit. Alessia would be beautiful, but blasphemous in some way or another, she was sure.

Im-Kilaya had called the child Haj-deek - saying it meant hidden child, or if he used it of her, Hides-her-child. She'd take that, but it was Argonian...and if she wasn't being raised by Argonians it would be awkward. Perhaps her little blessing--

Then, it became clear. Sunnar. Blessing.

She smiled, and once the little one was done feeding, and had been burped, she lay a kiss on her forehead and spoke.

"Your name is Sunnar."

After eating Sunnar seemed content to sleep again, and after a little soothing was put back into the crib. Once Sadara was certain she was fast asleep, she fixed her gown and looked through her possessions, desperate for something to do to keep her mind off--

--him.

Her weapons bag had been turned over to the Argonians, their contents given as payment for keeping her hidden as long as they had. What remained was a dagger, a Dagoth dagger in fact, but there was only a painted symbol marking which was easily washed off. It was a weapon she was most comfortable with.

Her potion bag had several full bottles and a large amount of ingredients she had found no initial purpose for, and there was the thought that a few potions of levitation could be made. They'd sell fairly well, she was certain. Then came the bag she'd used for clothes...the red robe, the one she had been gifted, was first, and the scent of cinnamon and incense filled her mind with memories of happiness.

With a heavy heart she folded it up and put it back. Beneath it was the Sixth House amulet she had been given - that would sell for a high enough price, enough to sustain her until she figured out what she would be doing. Its chain was tangled and knotted around the moon-and-star, which she had removed months ago. She let it be, and began to consider other things.

In her thought of where to go, she had settled after a lot of deliberation on Kvatch. Far (enough) away from her corpse-obsessed cousin, and even farther from Morrowind itself. She would be safe there, safe and unknown. She would say she had lost her husband to the machinations of the Sixth House, and that would be that.

She only hoped those who had dragged her from Leyawiin would not find her in Kvatch.

Im-Kilaya would later come and suggest dyeing her hair to better slip out of Ebonheart. She chose the red dye, and it was a red-headed dunmer woman under an assumed name who would be making the journey to Cyrodiil, baby in her arms as she walked aboard. The Sixth House amulet had been sold, and the bag of gold in her pocket, leftover from new clothes and the ship passage, was a definite added comfort.

And when Sadara departed the ship some days later, she would look down at Sunnar, fuss over her blanket, and say with a resigned hopefulness, "We will make our own way, won't we?"

She had her lute, and enough drakes to be comfortable for a brief period. She had made her way through worse circumstances, and she could make her way through this now.

[ansu-gurleht]

hm. how could i work it that im-kilaya and ku-vastei already know each other?

[ratboydipshit]

im-kilaya has always been one of my favorite morrowind minor characters but holy shit i was not prepared for meeting him again with this new npc heads mod. i wish to marry him

[mareenavee]

WIP WHENEVER! (Wednesday?!)

Hi, today is a bit of a write off day because it's spooky season and NY weather is telling me it's mid-July somehow.

I did manage a little writing :> And I'll be happy to share about ~300 words from two WIPS! But first, tags!

Tagging the amazing and wonderful: @paraparadigm, @changelingsandothernonsense, @thequeenofthewinter, @thana-topsy, @gilgamish, @archangelsunited, @wildhexe, @elfinismsarts, @throughtrialbyfire, @saltymaplesyrup, @snippetsrus, @rainpebble3, @kookaburra1701, @polypolymorph, @inquisition-dragonborn, @orfeoarte, @tallmatcha, @rhiannon1199, @expended-sleeper, @dirty-bosmer, @miraakulous-cloud-district, @nuwanders, @ladytanithia, @viss-and-pinegar, and @late-nite-scholar! Below the cut for shenanigans! WIP 1 has CW for creepy spooky season stuff and WIP 2 has CW for Neloth (yes) and his canon-typical racism (circa Nerevarine times in Morrowind.)

1) Spooky Collab pending a title with @thequeenofthewinter and @thana-topsy! Uldwin is his OC, and this is the downfall timeline. (: Writing is mine.

The ramp that led up to the mushroom tower was itself rotting through, stringy, toxic orange webs of slime mold eating away at the fungus. Lydia balanced precariously on the wooden support beams, cursing the weight of the daedric armor Uldwin had gifted her. Its enchantment sang to her, too—a whisper of some Bosmeri prayer. Like his voice, scratchy from use of the Thu’um. She swallowed hard against another wave of grief. This, perhaps, had been the last of his efforts to spare her whatever fate he’d willingly walked into.

The door to the tower swung open of its own accord, iron hinges rusted and knob caked with mud and grime. Then… Whatever it was had become aware of her presence. This did not bode well at all. She stepped through into the darkness, unable even to cast Candlelight to guide her way forward.

Lydia’s senses were assaulted by the stench of death—mildew and rot, must, pine, the uncomfortable sweetness of fermentation—not at all unlike the smell of Nordic tombs, long undisturbed. She brushed cobwebs away as she crept through the shadows. Dawnbreaker glowed, though its light seemed stifled in this place. Dread settled over her shoulders like a mantle. One step after another. It was all she could do, despite the fear. Despite how very much she wanted to turn and run. She knew she couldn’t. Uldwin didn’t. And now it fell to her to end this nightmare…and to bring him home.As Lydia took another step, something crunched audibly under her boot. A bone. No. She held back a scream as something screeched above her, the noise traveling through her skull like a jolt of Shock magic.

2) Light the Way which is pre-World. Backstory for Neloth and Teldryn, the Nerevarine (: And how they both ended up in the Twin Lamps.

“If I have your attention,” Im-Kilaya said after a particularly grating and reptilian-sounding throat-clearing, “we’ll need you both to help an injured once-shackled individual. His name is Tul, a fellow Saxhleel. Our Eyes have noted his injuries are beyond the help of what potions we have available.” He paused and turned to Sero, handing him a letter. “This, and he will need to be defended until you reach Sterdecan.”

“Do you expect trouble?” Sero asked, scanning the letter. Neloth glanced over his shoulder. It was written in some kind of cipher—it had to have been. Otherwise, it was an egregious misuse of parchment, describing in detail a few fictitious landmarks of Azura’s Coast. He watched as Sero folded up the letter again and tucked it behind the dark chitin plate of his armor.

“Yes, unfortunately. The farmhouse is becoming more visible than we’d like. It’s why this falls to you, Nerevarine. Protect Tul. I don’t know what waits out there in the dark, but the news brings me great discomfort.”

“Orvas has wind of us, doesn’t he?” Teldryn said after a moment. 

Im-Kilaya said nothing, and opted instead to grimace, hands tucked once again into the sleeves of his robes. Teldryn nodded; whatever silent conversation had just occurred between them seemed satisfactory enough.

Neloth knew that name. Duke Vedam’s younger brother, and, at least at one point, the more powerful of the two. There had been rumors about nefarious dealings, and a more recent loss of his position within House Hlaalu. Something Fyr had rattled on about, as he was wont to do, but Neloth hadn’t bothered to listen. He cursed himself for his lack of foresight. Not that Neloth was afraid per se, but what should have been a fairly simple task now seemed infinitely more complex than what he’d at first believed.

[aladaylessecondblog]

Lil Nerevar

Author's Note: Haj-deek is discovered much earlier and is taken to Red Mountain along with Im-Kilaya.

-----------

There was no mistaking the little face; they had all seen it before it pressed shyly back into Im-Kilaya's neck. Lord Dagoth's blood, and no mistake. The ring she wore on two fingers was the final clue.

"Where did you get that?" she had been asked.

"It was my mama's. She's gone now."

After a lengthy pause Haj-deek spoke again.

"I'm scared," she mumbled against Im-Kilaya's scales, "They look scary. They gonna eat us?"

"No, child, they're not going to eat us. They think...they think you are someone very important to Dagoth Ur."

She gasped.

"Everything is going to be alright."

They'd been placed in a side room, the door of which was being guarded by an ascended sleeper. He seemed to hear their conversation and floated forward.

"We have no plans to eat you, child. The Sixth House is not a house of barbarians. We are simply unprepared to receive you."

"What's dat mean?"

"It means that Lord Dagoth did not know of you."

"Why the vol-cano man care?" Haj-deek seemed unsure of where to look.

"Does she not know?" the sleeper looked to Im-Kilaya, who though frightened was masking it well enough.

"We hadn't yet told her, no," Im-Kilaya said, "Because we were afraid she might let it slip...and even in an Imperialist town like Ebonheart..."

"Im-kiwaya says the temple doesn't like me! Or my mama!" she said. "Or my mama's ring."

"And where is your mother?"

A new voice rang out now, one stronger than that of the sleeper, who immediately dropped into a bow at the new entrant's feet.

Haj-deek looked at Im-kilaya, a question in her little red eyes.

"I'll talk to him, little one."

Then she hid her face against his neck again.

"Her mother is dead," Im-Kilaya said, "She passed birthing Haj-deek, and asked us to care for her."

Silence. The taller figure drew closer, and now Haj-deek actually turned to look at him.

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

The stranger was wearing a big golden mask.

"That...IS...a very pretty ring," he said, gesturing to it. "It was your mother's, you said?"

"Yes," Haj-deek nodded, "Yes, it was my mama's. She gave it to me when I was born."

"She does not know all," Im-Kilaya said, repeating what he had to the sleeper, "A chattering child may share news to the wrong person by accident, you understand."

"You should be kneeling right now," the strange man said, "Why are you not? Do you think yourself my equal?"

"I stand on my feet before you because without me she would not be here either," Im-Kilaya said. He was shaking, still holding closely to Haj-deek, "Because without me, and the others of the mission, her mother would not have made it far enough to birth her."

"I am a xal-toh!" Haj-deek spoke up suddenly, "It means say-kred secret."

"They gave you THAT as a name?"

"No, no. My name is Haj-deek. Im-kilaya says it means I hidden child!" She paused and looked over the mask again. It felt familiar. She felt like she'd seen it before.

"Yes," Im-Kilaya said, speaking to her now, "Because your mother loved you very much, and wanted you to be safe from the Tribunal faithful."

"Surely her mother would have known she was safe with me, and the rest of her House," the stranger said.

Haj-deek was put on her feet, and told to go play with the tentacle-face man. He seemed like fun - he said he used to have a daughter, and so he suggested a tea-party, the supplies for which were soon gathered in a corner. Im-Kilaya was telling her it was alright, so it must be.

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

"Her mother," Im-Kilaya finally said, "Never told us it was you herself...we learned that from the journal she kept after she died. She was weak, you understand - her wounds would not heal by spell or potion, and she did not dare make the attempt to leave Ebonheart in her delicate condition."

"And she trusted you?"

"As much as her daughter does." The fear seemed to be leaving the lizard, as he now stood a bit taller, and wasn't shaking as much. "That business you had the Dren slaver - all but kidnapping us, that scared her. If I were to meet with an unfortunate end, I have no doubt you will not find what you seek here."

There was a pause.

(The Hist had told him it would be so.)

"I would like to propose a trade," Im-Kilaya finally said, "I can give you several things, but I want some in return as well."

"I should smite you where you stand. Would you like that, lizard?" The golden mask held no emotion but his voice certainly made up for it. "What more could you give me that I do not now have?"

"Her mother's ashes. I guarantee that should I meet an unfortunate end, those of the Mission would not be inclined to cooperate with you. And without their help you would never be able to find her ashes on your own. Undoubtedly you want your daughter to see you as what you are to her - I can help you there as well."

"And in return I suppose you wish the end of slavery? For the beastfolk to rise above their--"

"That and more," Im-Kilaya said, "But I must remind you that in her mother's darkest hour it was not Sadara's fellow Dunmer to save her, but the beastfolk you so despise."

He looked at Haj-deek, engaged in her mock tea party with the sleeper, who seemed to be quite enjoying himself.

"We only wish you to remember that."

[aladaylessecondblog]

Lil Nerevar 4

"So the lizard was not lying."

The box was opened, and the ashes were within. Haj-deek was looking at them carefully.

"Im-kiwaya no lie," she said emphatically, "If he says he do something, he do it!"

Then she looked into the box. Here and there were little dried flowers, sea glass, and even a pearl.

"Im-kiwaya," Haj-deek went on, "Said I give presents to mama. The ot-her Dunmer say ancestors talk to you. But...mama never talk to me."

She looked sad then, and sat beside Dagoth Ur in silence.

"I will fix this," he said suddenly, "I wondered why she never spoke to me after she left, too, and I felt..."

Another silence.

"Her spirit is not here, as it should be."

"What?"

"Your mother's spirit is not in these ashes. Someone has done something to her." Anger crept into his tone then, "Tell me, what do you know of Azura, the daedric prince?"

"I know her. She talk in my head sometimes. She say mama a bad lady. But Im-Kilaya says mama was GOOD, so I know Azura tell lie."

"Yes." There was a slight chuckle then. "Yes, you must remember that. Azura lies to you, and will never do anything BUT lie to you."

"Why?"

"Because she wanted your mother to kill me," Dagoth Ur said, "And being a lady of compassion and love, she said no. That is the first lesson I will give you on the nature of the daedric princes...when you don't do what they want, they hurt you."

"Azura hurt my mama?"

"Yes, she did. But don't worry. I can bring her back."

And for the first time since her arrival Haj-deek looked up at him in awe, rather than anxiety or fear.

[aladaylessecondblog]

Lil Nerevar 2

Haj-deek herself seemed to adjust nicely--there were all kinds of weird people here, but they gave her a pretty red robe, a special amulet, and a little gold crown (she thought it looked like one, anyway).

Im-Kilaya said the volcano man was her father, so it must be true. And the volcano man said she had uncles--his brothers, and they would all see her later. The one she had seen was grumpy--Gilvoth, he said his name was.

Gilvoth had come into the Heart Chamber, looked at her and said, "There's no denying you're his daughter."

"Why's dat?"

"You look just like him when he was your size. He was the youngest of us."

"Oh." Haj-deek laughed. The idea of the big volcano man ever being this small was funny.

Gilvoth had looked up at Ulen, who was standing at her side and holding to her wrist with one of his face-trunks. "Why are you holding onto her like that?"

Ulen didn't say anything in protest or justification, merely let go of Haj-deek's wrist. The second he did she bolted for a gap between two parts of the bridge, and said, "Watch me make it over three of them!"

She wobbled--nearly fell--

Only to float, upside down, back up until she was turned right-side up again.

"That's why, Lord Gilvoth."

"By the heart, she's JUST like him...I'd forgotten he did shit like that."

"What shit?"

Gilvoth's eyes widened. "You didn't hear that, little one."

"I did so! You SAID it!"

[aladaylessecondblog]

Severed Destiny shit

This is how I see Im-Kilaya, one of the Argonians at the Argonian mission

There were a few others but he did the primary instruction of Haj-deek in most things

This is the lizard that swaggers into Red Mountain with his massive brass balls because HE is the reason Voryn has everything he does now

"Why are you not groveling?"

"Because I don't have to."

He even named her.

Haj-deek = hidden child

He cries when she has to leave the Mission bro got so emotional. Being the nerevarine is hazardous to her health after all

[mareenavee]

That Is the Choice I Give You

Mind the Tags on the card, please.

Rating: Mature Archive Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Major Character Death Other Important Tags: Canon-Typical Racism Twin Lamps

Written for my dearest friend and greatest supporter, Jinumon. Thank you for indulging my TES brainwyrms here, in Skywind and, finally, in person. ✨❤️

This version of Tul was Jinumon's idea. Anali, mentioned briefly, is an easter egg for @changelingsandothernonsense's fic universe, and is her Khajiit OC.

Written in response to a prompt challenge, as well! The Prompt

First Seed

Without further ado,

That Is the Choice I Give You

A Historical Perspective Regarding the Twin Lamps and Its Activities in Vvardenfell, 3E427: Part One

A note from the publisher:

These letters and journals were recovered or removed from Dren Plantation and Ules Manor before being carried to Ebonheart by formerly shackled individuals. The original texts were written either in pictographic Jel, a coded version of Tamrielic known between the two correspondents, or a combination of the two. They were translated and edited for readability with no small effort by the members of the Argonian Mission in Ebonheart before submission.

Light the way.

16 First Seed 3E427

You must excuse the mud and dirt between these pages—my previous journal was lost to me in the fire that consumed a building on the eastern edge of the plantation. I would not change it, as that fire allowed for Anali’s escape when our plan had been all but compromised. I’ve decided to keep this one in an area that the Ienith brothers do not tread. After all, the one they’ve set to watch ought to check these perimeters. It is beneath them. But that one is lazy and sleeps on the job.

If there is luck to be had in situations like these, I suppose it is that I can write and have not lost my arm for it, and still have both eyes to observe these things and send word whenever possible back to Im-Kilaya.

As of late, I find Dren distracted, often leaving his manor in the dead of night, Ienith hounds in tow. Something is changing here on the island. I do not know what. All I can do is make use of the confusion and lapse in security and continue the work I’ve risked my life to do. I think, as of today, I’ve freed nearly twenty shackled in my current role and have so far avoided suspicion.

Yes. I realize I could die at any time. I am no stranger to the cruelty here, where a single glance can be considered an egregious misstep. I have the scars to prove it. But I gave my word—and thus my life—to the Cause. This is another thing I would not change. -> Read more on AO3

[aladaylessecondblog]

Severed Destiny/Dagoth Ur Dad brainrot

Looking forward to the chapter where I get to have Dagoth Ur dream-visit Im-Kilaya

And Im-Kilaya's like "I thought you'd be here. If you're going to ask for something be POLITE."

Dagoth Ur is then like: fffffffff I AM A GOD WHERE DID YOU GET THE COJONES FOR THIS ATTITUDE >( "

[aladaylessecondblog]

Severed Destiny, Chapter 5

An-Deesei, 3E 425

The Hist does not explain itself.

We would never have thought to tell our Haj-deek of her true identity as early as we were directed to do. We would never have thought to burden a child with destiny. Yet we knew we must...and all we can do now is be there to support her, as we have always been.

I have read the prophecies that Sadara carried among her possessions, and indeed our Haj-deek does fulfill some of them.

Dragon-born--Ebonheart is a distinctly Imperial city, the seat of the emperor's representative in Morrowind.

Far star marked--she has the influence of the sign of the Atronach.

Stark-born, to sire uncertain...we of the mission have worked very hard to ensure no one knows of Haj-deek's parentage. The story we spread, and that everyone seemed to believe, was that she had been left at our door. Whether the father knows of her existence is itself uncertain.

She took to lessons in the Goutfang style quite well, and that strange sailor friend of hers learned alongside her. She has learned that and the art of hand to hand combat, how to move swiftly, and how to fall, from me.

From Onasha, she learned the way to deceive through speech, how to wield a dagger effectively, to sneak, and how to be safe in battle without armor.

From Im-Kilaya, she learned the arts of magic. Mysticism, Alteration, Illusion, and Destruction.

From Ukawei she learned alchemy, restoration, and general medicine.

From On-Wan she learned suffering.

Our hidden slave is safe as can be expected in the circumstances, but now and then still wakes up afraid she is in chains again, and in danger of being whipped or mutilated. We did not know how Haj-deek would handle the sight of it--we often have had her aid us by causing a scene in some way or another to move and hide slaves, but none have stayed with us as long as On-Wan has. She had heard of the horrors of slavery, but not until this point did she see the effects up close.

It discomforted her to see anyone afraid of her, and she set out to make On-Wan more at ease in her presence. It took nearly a year, and patience I thought beyond the years of one so young, but this was managed.

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

I was bringing the morning's breakfast down on a tray when I overheard the two of them speaking.

"I may be sent home soon," I heard On-Wan say to Haj-deek, "But the bracers--the bracers, they will not come off. No matter where I am, no matter where I go, I will always be a slave."

And this child...I watched her hold the weeping woman. She seemed uncertain of what to say at first, but she asked, "Who holds the key to your bracers?"

"One of those who works for the D...duke's brother," On-wan said, "He may carry one himself, I do not know."

"And do you know what it looks like?"

"It looks like any other key on the keyring they use. I saw it only once, when they put the bracers on me. But it felt enchanted. Like some evil magic was coursing through it."

Haj-deek stood and walked past me, before I could say anything or warn her against what she was obviously planning to do.

This child will be the death of me, I swear. She may have a hard time deciding what is best, but when she does decide, nothing will dissuade her from her chosen course of action.

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

*Haj-deek*

"You little n'chow!"

She ran, the bag clutched in her hands. Behind a Dunmer man chased after her, though he quickly lagged behind. She ducked under some heavy thing a couple of East Empire workers were moving. Breathing hard, she passed between the two warehouses and made her way through the crowd.

The Southern tower was just ahead, and she rushed into the door right behind a Fighters' guild member.

Right up ahead, standing with two guards of his own--

A satisfied smirk spread across the face of Orvas Dren, in front of whom she finally stopped. She was still trying to catch her breath as she stuck her hand into the bag and pulled out a note.

"Something of interest, then?" he asked.

Haj-deek nodded, and handed him the note.

The Dunmer man chasing her caught up just as Orvas was unfolding it, and grabbed her by the shirt collar. Then he looked up at Orvas. "This little brat thinks it's funny to steal from us. I hope you've got something particularly..."

His sentence drifted suddenly off as he looked up and his eyes landed on the note.

"Yes, that IS quite serious," Orvas said. He looked at Haj-deek and asked, "Did you steal from my hired sword?"

"I did," she admitted it quietly, and kept her voice meek.

"You are quite sure it was this one you stole from?"

"Yes, serjo."

"Hmm, well..." Orvas gestured, and three guards she hadn't seen on the way in moved up suddenly behind the one who'd been chasing her. "This note looks rather important. Let me see here...'A hundred thanks to you for the information regarding the skooma shipment. This will greatly hinder the spread of that foul poison in the future."

His head snapped up, and Haj-deek saw the satisfied expression shift to one of silent fury.

"...signed...V." The note was instantly crumbled in his fist. "I gave you the opportunity of a lifetime. A foothold in my organization. And you spit in my face by double-crossing me?"

Orvas looked past the man and jerked his head upward. Two of the three guards moved forward, each taking one of the man's arms.

"SHE wrote that! I had nothing to do with it!"

"You've been very helpful," Orvas ignored him and turned to Haj-deek, "And I reward those who make themselves useful. But I've got a great deal to take care of...so perhaps I can simply owe you a favor."

Haj-deek nodded. "A favor from you could be very useful."

"Smart girl," he gave her a grin, "Keep this up and perhaps in a few years you could find yourself in a quite lucrative job."

Again she nodded, and at another gesture of his she headed back out the door. Not until she was nearly at the Six Fishes did she take the bag back out. There were a few gold in it, a stick or two of scrib jerky, a random chunk of onyx, a common amulet...

...but at the bottom was what she was truly after.

An iron key with a slight shimmer over it.

"There you are!"

She stiffened suddenly on hearing a voice behind her, but relaxed when she realized who it was. When she turned she saw--Khev. The fear she'd felt only a moment before faded slowly, but she gave him a smile nonetheless.

"Khev...I didn't know you were in Ebonheart. I thought surely--"

"Well, sometimes the ships move more quickly than you expect," he replied. "I won't be here long, in fact I have to be going tonight...but I remembered that your birthday was tomorrow, and thought I'd drop by and hand over the gift I've been saving for you."

"You didn't have to get me anything, but...I won't say no to whatever you've got."

From the bag at his side, Khev drew out--

"A boiled netch leather helm?" Haj-deek, having expected almost anything, did not expect this. "It's not like I'm ungrateful! It's just..."

"I only want to say this," Khev's voice, usually happy, turned suddenly serious, "I've read up on what...you being what you are means. Having a helmet that covers your face will be handy."

"Because of the ash and blight storms?"

"Well, that too, but..." His expression was suddenly...strange. Like he wanted to say something, but at the same time he didn't. "...eventually, you might come to meet Almalexia. If you never show her your face, she won't remember it."

"But she'd still know that I was..."

Something felt off. Haj-deek felt a sneaking suspicion that he wasn't telling her everything. He must've noticed, because he quickly added, "I didn't want to tell you this. But...I spoke to a fortuneteller a few days past for my own...amusement, and she had a few things to say about you."

Now he just looked sheepish.

"Like what?" she moved closer, and watched his face.

"I can't remember all of it," he replied quickly, "But I remember one thing in specific, I assume you'll know what it means better than I do. Exactly this: There are perhaps ten people alive in Morrowind who know the face she wears. The goddess is one of them.'"

Haj-deek stiffened.

"So you DO know what she means?"

"...maybe," Haj-deek replied. "I...I'll have to think about it."

Khev nodded, and handed her the helmet. Then he drew something else out--a pocket watch, it looked like, but it was shaped almost like a gear, and had a number of similar designs on its back. He popped it open, and she leaned over it to see what the inside looked like.

It was transparent. There was nothing in it that was not made of the brassy (Dwemer?) metal, and she could see through the clock face itself. The inside lid, however, was solid, and had a swirling design broken only by two words that had been inscribed along the outer edge: from odros

"Where'd you ever find this? It's amazing!"

"Oh," Khev smiled weakly, "From someone in a port I no longer visit."

He hurried off soon after, and Haj-deek herself went on back to the Argonian Mission.

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

You must depart two years hence, Azura had said to her. Today was her birthday, but tomorrow would be the real start.

She didn't want to go at all, but...it wasn't as if that was an option. For better or ill, the Moon-and-star marked her as the Nerevarine.

Just before she had entered the Mission, Sunchaser had caught up with her. She had named the cliffracer for its tendency to want to fly out in the direction of the sunrise on the mornings after the nights it spent sleeping inside. It followed her in, and though Im-Kilaya had never grown happy about having it there, he would tolerate the beast.

"Is that yours?" Im-Kilaya spoke after looking away from the cliffracer, and was indicating the bag in her hands.

"No, but--and no, no one's going to come after me. The one that stole this double-crossed somebody else."

"And you...told them about it?"

She nodded.

"If it's one of those Camonna Tong people...you know they're dangerous, don't you? They're not people you want to get mixed up with."

"I know, I know! But...I found something On-Wan might be interested in." She reached into the bag, and produced the key. "It might not even be the right one, but he worked for--look, it's not important. There's nothing to worry about."

She hoped so, anyway.

With Sunchaser following close behind she went down the stairs, and opened the door to On-Wan's little room. The runaway lifted her head from the lunchtime bowl of stew she was eating.

"Is this your key?" Haj-deek asked, lifting the iron key. "I can wait until you're done eating if you'd prefer."

But On-Wan put the bowl aside immediately, and rushed over. Haj-deek slid the key into the lock of the left bracer. She jiggled it a bit--it turned--

And the left bracer fell to the floor. In awed silence did On-Wan wait as Haj-deek repeated it with the other bracer.

"Seizo...you have done it..." On-Wan shakily looked down at both her hands, free for the first time in a long time of those hateful bracers. "You did not have to."

"I did," Haj-deek said quietly. "No one else could, if I didn't."

"May the Hist bless you, child. Free...I can be truly free now."

They shared a smile then, and a second later, a hug.

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

"Tomorrow, you will begin your journey," An-Deesei said, "And while we would prefer you did not need to begin it at all...we know that you must."

She and Im-Kilaya seemed to have decided to be the ones to give her this last talk.

"And so we have gifts for you. All of your mother's possessions will be yours now...and we are certain you will need them at some point or another."

Their gifts were sentimental ones. The stuffed guar she had loved so well as a babe that it no longer had either of its button eyes, and whose legs had been patched too many times to count. A clay print of her foot as a baby. The copy of The Sleepy Little Nix-Hound she had read so often that the spine was falling apart.

She smiled at the sight of each one, and tucked them all gingerly away.

"We know," Im-Kilaya said, "We know what you seek from this journey."

"We have done our best for you, but we know..."

"You're still my family," Haj-deek said quickly, "Even if he is my father, even if I make...if I'm able to...you're still my family. You always will be."

Im-Kilaya looked momentarily misty-eyed, so it was An-Deesei who spoke next.

"We could give you weapons or armor, but your mother had several of each which are now yours. We would have given you an amulet, but..."

"It's alright that you didn't," she said. "What is some urchin from the streets of Ebonheart going to do with a pretty bauble?"

"You are MORE than that, and you know it. So our final gift to you is not a weapon, a piece of armor, or trinket of any sort. Our final gift to you is something far more valuable."

An-Deesei turned to Im-Kilaya, who was wiping his eyes. He took from the front pocket of his robes a vial, which he handed to her, and which was then given to Haj-deek.

The vial was relatively small, full of a thin, watery golden liquid.

"Hist Sap?" she asked.

"You already know the rules," An-Deesei said to her. "No more than one drop at a time, and no having it more often than three or perhaps four times a year at the most. You know the dangers of a non-Saxhleel ingesting the sap. But this is our gift, and the Hists' as well. We are not blood, but we ARE your family. Through love...and through the Hist."

Haj-deek smiled, and came forward to hug both of them.

(Im-Kilaya could no longer hold back the tears.)

[a-thirst-for-dunmer]

OH BOYYYY I GOT SO MANY

Tari-Ra, or Tara: my main Dragonborn, member of the Bright-Throats who left Black Marsh after a failed marriage between her and a Naga-Kur. Finds out she is Dovahkiin, gains draconic traits, and marries Revyn Sadri. Really good at fishing and one-handed combat.

Scales-Like-Fire: Tara’s flamboyant brother who is insanely good at alchemy, illusion, and alteration. Married to Derkeethus and lives in Morthal where he kills vampires and harvests deathbell.

Eyes-Under-Water: Tara’s sister and a renowned archer in her own right. She joins the Thieves’ Guild, useful for her escape routes by hiding in the canals of Riften and utilizing her Hist-given waterbreathing. She has not yet been caught.

Licks-The-Fruit: Tara’s OTHER sister. (She and the others are out of 17 hatchlings, her parents had a big clutch.) Moody, abrasive, and overshadowed by many of her siblings, she embraces Sithis and turns to the Dark Brotherhood where she meets Veezara. Upon his death, she vows to take on the legacy of the Shadowscales and sire a new generation in his honor.

Dances-In-Streams: Wakes up near Falkreath’s border with no memory. After meeting Taliesin and awakening magical abilities of destruction and conjuration, she eventually discovers she is the reincarnated soul of Takes-in-Light, an Argonian mage who died years ago in the Ruins of Labyrinthian.

Scrapes-the-Stars: Tara’s Naga-Kur ex. An insatiably bloodthirsty warrior and an outcast from his own people, he constantly seeks power in order to prove his worth and regain his social standing. When in Skyrim, he meets the remaining members of the Volkihar clan who somehow survived the massacre at Castle Volkihar and is turned. He stages a coup with Vingalmo to take over Skyrim with vampiric power but is halted by Tara. She lets him and the rest of the vampires live as long as they leave Skyrim.

Death-Quill: The son of Licks-the-Fruit and the first Shadowscale in years after Veezara’s death. Tired of being trained as a killer, he turns to skooma and mead to cope with the atrocities committed on a daily basis and meets Romlyn Dreth. Bonding over their shared criminal history and their families’ dark pasts, they begin a journey to hunt for treasure on the Sea of Ghosts.

Water-Scales: The Hero of Kvatch, Tara’s great-great grandmother, and the namesake of Tara’s brother. Hero of the Oblivion Crisis who settled down with Gin-Wulm in the Imperial City.

Touched-by-Moons: The Nerevarine, to many Dunmer’s chagrin. Much of her true nature has been lost to time, as the Dunmer were so vexed by her being the true Nerevarine that they destroyed most records of her existence. After the destruction of the Sixth House, she settled down with an Argonian named Im-Kilaya to help free her people from slavery in various parts of Morrowind.

Stink Breath: my joke character. Only uses daggers, poison spells, and spells to induce fear or fury. Wears nothing but ragged pants and carries the largest amount of skooma and Hist sap he can hold. Allegedly can jump as high as a giant’s club impact.

love that post going around from @dawns-beauty asking about people’s “unusual” khajiit ocs, and i think we need an argonian one too (assuming there isn’t already one i just haven’t seen)! reblog this with your unique argonian ocs!

[aladaylessecondblog]

Summary: A couple buoyant armigers notice an ash zombie behaving strangely. Haj-deek reads her mother's diary, and puts on the moon-and-star ring.

TW: referenced death in childbirth

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

On darkest hour of longest night...

"What are you LOOKING at?"

The first armiger was looking down from his post with a spyglass as the second stepped away from the trapdoor to the ladder that lead below. The lilting sound echoed and he heard it clearly, even through the blighted winds. It was a calming tune, in an odd sort of way.

"Oblivion, for all I know. The ash zombies are acting strangely again."

To hearth and home we turn our sight

The second took the spyglass and looked down over the ground below.

None of them ever saw the source, at least, not when at their posts. Even now there seemed to be nothing of particular note to see as he scanned the ground--until he spotted the ash zombie. It was leaning at an odd, almost unsupported angle, and one gnarled hand was lifted as if resting on something. Yet more amazing still was how calm it seemed. He would think it dead, if not for the occasional movement of its head.

In the flickering fire, worries cease

"Odd," the second put down the spyglass and looked back up at the first. "But it's probably just the siren. If the ash zombies start making trouble, then we can worry."

"The siren?"

"I keep forgetting you're new at the Ghostgate." The second shook his head, "Some of the Temple pilgrims hear her now and then. We've had one of our own actually see her, but she didn't attack."

Winter's winds outside, and inside lasting peace

"What's she do, then? Anything I need to worry about?"

"Nothing to worry about unless you feel like jumping off the tower to join her or some nonsense like that," the second said, "The one that saw her said she locked eyes with him and said she was sorry. Wasn't until the next day we realized he had corprus, so we shipped him off to Tel Fyr. Currently, we're guessing that she can detect corprus in some way...some assume she must have lost her husband to it, or something of that sort."

The blight winds died down a little. When they looked back, the ash zombie was stumbling, and then scrambling back to its feet. Nearby they saw an ascended sleeper meandering forward.

"This is going to be a long day," the first armiger muttered, "One of those tentacle-faced monsters this close to the fence is never a good sign..."

*Haj-Deek*

So my mother was the Nerevarine? Maybe that was why she died...falling in battle, attempting to bring down some enemy or the other. She thought, Maybe even Dagoth Ur himself?

The song proved that to be wrong right off the bat.

His hair hangs in ink rivers, his eyes as red as flame

To Morrowind the Sharmat, A monster inhumane

From Red Mountain to Vivec, Azura spreads my shame

All for the love I bear him, this man once Voryn named

"How could anyone love a demon?" she asked, looking up at Im-Kilaya, "Everyone says he's a terrible monster..."

"No one is ever wholly evil, save perhaps for certain daedric princes," An-Deesei added from her place in the corner of the room. "Perhaps he did not show your mother that evil face, and so she did not see it, despite hearing of it everywhere else. She was the reincarnation of his long-dead friend, and carried his memories. If you had a friend who came back to life--would you not be different with them, than with everyone else, even if you were the most miserable soul in Vvardenfell? There is more to it than that, that the journal explains, so we will let you continue reading."

She paused, and looked back to the pages. The cliffracer in her lap stayed quiet with continual petting, and she welcomed the opportunity to have something to do with one hand to burn off the nervous energy that seemed to have come from nowhere.

Azura's words echo to remind me of my duty, my destiny. Strike down Dagoth Ur and release the land from his grasp. Yet the memories of Indoril Nerevar say he was once my truest friend.

It made sense, Haj-deek thought. If she had not seen a friend in a long time, she would certainly want to speak to them, even if they had turned to darkness.

Something still remains of Voryn. I have heard the echoes of his laughter and there is no sweeter sound.

A cold feeling stole over her, though she hardly knew why as she turned the page. Her mother wrote of how Dagoth Ur seemed to be a prisoner in a dead body, longing for release, and then wrote of the understand he seemed to have over many things.

Perhaps just gathering information? But as she read further, it became clear that that was not the case. Her mother wrote of wanting to talk Dagoth Ur down from the horrible things he was doing, hoping perhaps that she would not need to kill her old friend. Despite Azura's objections...

No one can defy a daedric prince without suffering, she thought.

She had learned that from the Imperials and Nords in Ebonheart. Some told her the daedric princes were all evil, some said that they could be useful but were difficult masters to serve--but they all were unified in saying that no one crossed a daedric prince without being dealt retribution for it.

Maybe Azura had done something? But if that were the case--there was too much more to read, for it to have happened so quickly.

BY AZURA, WHAT HAVE I DONE?

The cold feeling stayed, and a slight fear crept in along with it, as she read the next page. Her mother, standing in the Heart Chamber (briefly, an image flashed before her eyes, and in that moment a strange mechanical pulse, too), drinking with the very enemy Azura and all of Morrowind wanted her to destroy?

And then to do not only that, but to KISS HIM too? From what it sounded like, he was technically dead--he is dead, but dreams he lives--or undead, like some strange kind of vampire.

Gross.

A slurred mess of apologies followed, but were quickly silenced when he kissed me himself.

She turned the page and immediately noticed the ripped sections of paper.

"Why are there pages gone?" she asked.

"Because what was written on them is not fit for young eyes," Im-Kilaya said, "If anything of particular importance was on them, we would have told you. We would not leave out anything that would let you know your mother better, otherwise. Your mother...wrote far too much on certain...activities."

The pit in her stomach soured further, and she was beginning to suspect...but no, surely they would have told her before now, if it was true? Or maybe there would have been some sign? No, it couldn't be true...

It COULDN'T be.

She tried to focus on the next pages.

I once prayed to Mara for a heroic knight to love...and she sent me a god. (If only he would listen to me.)

It was a sting in her heart. She'd read many a novel that ran like this--the heroine, in love with a man from whom she could never expect a return...yet always in the books there was a happy ending.

But this was not another romantic novel, this was real life.

Her mother wrote of leaving Dagoth Ur, whom she had called Voryn up to this point. That there was no changing his mind...but that she loved him too much to ever kill him. She wanted to make her own path, one that did not ask her to choose between love and duty. She wanted to escape destiny, the future Azura had given her.

May the Divine grant me forgiveness, for surely Azura will not

Mortals are only sport, the thought came to mind, only sport to the Daedra Lords. They wanted only obedience...but when it came to one such as Dagoth Ur, surely it made sense to give that obedience? It was he whose name was on everyone's lip as the source of evil on Vvardenfell. Surely he DESERVED to die?

But hearts are not always wise. That was a line from one of the novels she'd read, regarding some poor woman and the bandit king she loved. And the heart wants what it wants.

Haj-deek kept reading; she found herself able to keep denying what was right in front of her...

...right up until she read of her mother's flight and attempts to stay hidden. It was nearly dinnertime, but the slight hunger in her belly was nothing to the burgeoning curiosity in her heart. She had to know, and she had to know NOW. If that information was even in these pages...

It was nearly dinnertime when she reached the part she sought.

...but it's overshadowed by something else. I am with child...

Had she been holding the journal aloft, Haj-deek would have dropped it. The pit forming in her stomach turned to ice, and her hands started to shake. She started to get up, but then moved right back down again. She looked away, and then straight back.

She felt rooted to the spot, as if something was holding her there despite the growing horror.

Many times she had imagined her father to be someone of grand importance, and various scenarios to go along with it. One of the Telvanni wizards, too busy with his work to keep her mother's love for long. A bandit, who captured her mother's heart and let it go when it was no longer of use to him. She had even once imagined that King Helseth was secretly her father--a passing fancy, influenced no doubt by reading The Mystery Of Princess Talara.

She had thought up so many things, and yet the truth was more fantastical than all her imaginings.

It can't be true, it can't be, she thought. But on thinking, it all came together, it all just sort of clicked.

Why her mother would want to hide her from the Tribunal's followers...if they wanted to kill the Nerevarine, that would be one thing. But how much more would they want to kill someone fathered by Dagoth Ur himself? Everything had been done to erase House Dagoth from history; any remaining members had been killed or absorbed into other houses.

And that, that would have been bad enough...

But then she read on.

The room was silent save for the mewlings of the babe and I saw the mark of her lineage upon her tiny wrist. A glimmering ring, the moon and star, had been slipped onto her delicate skin.

She gulped, involuntarily.

Family...she had always wanted a family. A mother and father, like others had, ancestors to watch over her, like others had. But she didn't even know what family her mother had hailed from, and her mother's ashes were cold and silent, with no presence in them.

An-Deesei, Im-Kilaya, Ukawei, and Onasha had done their best, and she felt terrible for wishing it, but...

"It's not fair," she said suddenly, her voice choked, "It's just not fair!"

"No," came An-Deesei's quiet tone, "It's not."

...because if she WAS the Nerevarine, then that would mean...that would mean, what little family remained, Azura wanted her to destroy. There would be no chance to see them, know them. The only thing she would have from them is the evil reputation of their blood.

It would be like the dirty looks she got for being "half a beast," only worse. She could already hear what the other Dunmer would say.

Bad blood.

Evil blood.

Words and phrases leaped in her mind, like fish from the ocean she watched so often. ...not a real thing at all...pathetic puppet of prophecy...

Have you asked yourself WHY you are doing Azura's bidding?

Where they came from, she didn't know. Only that the more she had read of her mother's journal, the more she felt like something locked inside her was slowly being let out.

She held the cliffracer a little closer; it shifted about, but remained asleep.

Any idea that the ring in the bag would distract her from the sadness threatening to drown her ended the second she actually laid eyes on it. The moon-and-star. The symbol of everything her supposed reincarnation was about. The very ring Nerevar himself had been given, that her mother had carried for a time, that she had worn for a brief period, when she was born.

She slipped it on before the urge to do so could fade. There could only be pain, but...Ukawei had said to her once, if the only way out was through, best to start quickly and get it over with. If there is to be pain, face it head on.

Her vision blurred for a moment, and then a seemingly endless parade of images (memories?) flew past her eyes, so quickly she forgot some almost instantly. But in each one she remembered afterwards, she had what felt like only a few moments to look around before being whisked to the next. The earliest were jumbled; she was not entirely sure how she knew that, only that that was the case

The bloody end of a spear, pushed through her chest. The feeling of utter betrayal as she looked down at-- Ayem, how could you?

Azura, where are you? Please--please, I need help.

A room full of people she didn't know until she was leaving it. Vehk, Seht, Ayem. A long table, raised voices, threats...

Voryn, I have an enormous favor to ask of you.

(That memory was gone more quickly than the others. But she got an impression of a tall mer with long black hair and a sharp jaw. The same jaw she saw every time she looked into a mirror)

Standing before a crowd, raising a sword, hearing them call out in one voice...

A beautiful woman with dusky skin, red eyes, and a myriad of blue flowers in her hair.

My faithful champion, my blessed one...

She embraced, but the hold was a tight one that left her struggling for breath.

They sped up, the images and sounds coming faster and faster as they neared (the end?). Her head was aching horribly, but nothing could stop the rapid procession.

A port town, smaller than Ebonheart. Another town, a few caves, fields of ash. Tents and warriors, cities and assassins. Then something she thought must be the Ghostfence--

Mother. Mother, am I seeing through your eyes?

Red winds...were these the blight winds she'd heard about?

...I'm Dagoth Endus, brother of Dagoth Ur...

A bottle and two glasses, raised...just as she was looking at the face with the beard and the flushed but pale skin, she was yanked away again.

An uncle?

A second face, similar to this Endus character, only this one with a slimmer face untouched by the blush of alcohol.

Then...

...she knew him, even before he turned. She saw his back, the way he stood, and just knew.

...we have nothing to discuss...

Dagoth Ur. The evil one, the enemy of the Tribunal, of Azura, of all Morrowind.

Her father.

But then he turned, and she felt momentarily weak. The mask--golden, impassive, unyielding. Its eyes focused on her and yet she felt as if it were looking THROUGH her...

The heart--that strange mechanical beating, the wafting air around it. Dagoth Ur, standing beside her, then in front, and beside her again, this time with the mask off.

Still there was no clear look at his face; he was a bit too tall, she guessed.

The memory shifted and she felt his arms around her, along with a general air of safety and contentment. For a split second she felt nothing could go wrong in the world at all. That she was safe at last, and beyond the reach of any who would do her harm.

I feel I was only half-alive...as if you are the other half I was missing before. And now I'm whole.

But as soon as she felt that deep contentment, it was gone.

Can't you see that this is hurting people? There must be a better way to help the Dunmer...

The blighted winds again, the despair...the heaviness in her chest, and then later the fear as enemies seemed to appear around every corner.

How dare you! How dare you defy my will! I give you no more chances. I show you no more mercy. You have earned what you will get, failed incarnate!

Then...then, the Argonian Mission came, and the memories began to slow down again.

The sorrow was still there, but there was a a momentary happiness looking down at the rounded belly.

I have been a tool of prophecy...you...it will be different for you, I promise. We'll go home to Cyrodiil...we'll make our own way.

Then--there was nothing but agony.

She looked up at Im-Kilaya and Ukawei, and then down at the blood beneath her.

It's alright, Sadara. One last push--

Screaming, wailing, and the relief of hearing the baby's cries.

A girl!

Let me hold my baby, the voice seemed to come from within her, Please...please, let me hold her...

She looked down at the face as the baby was handed to her--looked down into her own face, and felt tears falling.

Her free hand came up, and the sudden need to know surged forward. She slipped the ring off, and slid it onto the babe's wrist.

She is cursed. Cursed, as I have been.

A second look at the face, and a sorrow that rose along with weakness. She focused on it as hard as she could, but there was no stopping the gradual dimming of her vision.

She looks like you...

Then, darkness.

She jolted in her seat as a voice rang out in her head. Strong, feminine, insistent, and she was certain she was the only one hearing it.

"My child, you take on now the mantle of the Nerevarine, the mantle of destiny. Many have fallen before you, and yet you remain. You are not yet old enough, but two years hence you must begin your journey, or all I have planned will be lost."

Please. Please, don't make me do this, I don't want to do this. Anyone else. Pick anyone else.

I beseech you to turn not from the path I have set before you. The prophecy is not just a burden, it is your divine duty. The path I have laid ahead of you is set. Defying it as your traitorous mother did will only bring sorrow to those you love.

The voice faded, and Haj-deek was left shaking in her seat.

Her head felt like hers and yet not hers at the same time, full to bursting with memories, fears, concerns, loves, and hates that seemed completely alien.

"Haj-deek?" a male voice asked; in her state she could not summon the will to care whether it was Im-Kilaya or Ukawei.

"Why me?" she asked in a small voice, "Why?"

"Because Lady Azura is cruel, as much as she is wise. She displays that nowhere better than with those she claims to love."

A pair of hands settled on her shoulders.

"I will not say it is fair, but if you wish things to be different, you must forge the path yourself."

She looked back--

--no one was behind her, and Im-Kilaya was across the room.

"I'm not going to claim that eating will make you feel better," he said from the corner, "But you will at least not feel worse for having dinner."

"No," she said quietly, ignoring the rumble in her stomach. She didn't care about eating, all she wanted right now was to be alone, to process everything without several sets of eyes watching her so closely. She stood, with the cliffracer still held close. "I'm going to go to the docks."

Maybe there'd be people who looked at her there, but they wouldn't stare, or give her the pitying looks she was seeing here. They'd look over her unless she was in the way.

"Haj-deek, it is late in the day--"

She was off and running before they could stop her.

There were no ships moving; though one was currently moored nearby its crew was relatively quiet on deck.

She sat on the end of one of the smaller docks, with her toes dangling in the water--and watched as the sun was setting.

This morning she had been ignorant, and now, as the day ended, everything was clear. She almost wished that she could go back, that she could pretend none of it had ever happened. That she was just 'the beast in Dunmer flesh.'

Haj-deek had put on the ring, the memories had come rushing back. Azura's voice had rung out in her head and now it was far too late to walk this back. There was no returning to the innocent ignorance of the morning, and from what Azura had said there would be no ability to just...ignore her.

She'd hurt Im-Kilaya, and An-Deesei, and all the rest. It made sense to obey her, to take down the one threatening all Morrowind with the blight and the corprus. The devil of Dagoth, the demon of Red Mountain...

...scheming, treacherous fiends, the thought stirred in her head, an echo of a memory, followed soon by, Azura's Fool!

The cliffracer in her lap stirred, and moved swiftly from her lap to the water, where it scooped up a dhufish and then seemed to hover close to the water to look for another.

There was so much she still wanted to know, things she wanted to see before she gave further thought to obeying Azura's will. By any standard Dagoth Ur deserved to die. He had shown a glimmer of humanity, maybe--but then, that had been what killed her mother, that hope that had been dashed like a ship against a rocky shore.

And...she wanted to at least know him, before fighting him. She wanted to see the man beneath the demon, before she would even think of putting him down. It might be the only chance she would ever have to know anything more of him than the evil that surrounded him.

Footsteps tapped behind her on the dock.

"I said I didn't want to eat," she called over her shoulder without looking. "Leave me alone!"

"Oh, dear, you aren't having a good day, are you?" the soft male voice was full of concern.

Haj-deek turned to see who had spoken, but she already knew. The sight of the mer before her brought a slight if sad smile to her face.

He was tall, bald, and the right half of his face was covered in burns. Yet she had hardly ever seen him without some element of happiness in his expression. He used to say he had been given a new lease on life, and that he would not waste a second with regrets.

"Khev. It's...no. No, I'm not." She looked back to the water, and gulped slightly. "Im-Kilaya and the others told me who my mother was."

"I see. Is it something you wish to talk about?"

"I do, but...but I'm afraid. There's something else, and...and I don't know what to do."

"Well..." Khev moved down to sit beside her, "...surely you must have some idea. You're a smart child, wiser than you think."

"A daedra talked to me," she said, covering her right hand with the left. "And said if I didn't do what they wanted they'd...they'd hurt the people I loved."

"That is a heavy thing to lay on a child," Khev replied, "But you're too young to do much in the ways of war, surely they can't expect you to do much now?"

The cliffracer came back to the dock with a wriggling fish in its beak, and laid it at her feet. Khev drew a dagger, but Haj-deek put up a hand to stop him.

"It's mine. I think it thinks I'm its mother...I don't know, it sat in my lap for hours."

The dagger was put away, and the smile of Khev's face seemed more amused now.

"You see? You can do more than you think, if you find yourself able to tame such a beast. I never heard of anyone able to do such a thing."

"It was hurt," she said, "And I knew if I didn't help it, no one else would."

The cliffracer nudged the fish, and turned its head to fix Haj-deek with one of its eyes. It called out, and she gave in. She picked up the fish and lit a small fire in her hand to cook it.

"So you saw what you thought was right to do, and you did it. It sounds like you know more than you think you do here," Khev went on, "Maybe it's not WHAT you should do, but HOW you should do it, that you don't know."

"Maybe," she said quietly. "But I don't think this is going to be as easy as when you taught me to spear-fish. It's...it's more than that, a lot more."

"Nothing with rich reward ever comes easily, Haj-deek. But if you want help, I am willing to give it."

Haj-deek took a deep breath. Something played in the back of her mind, whispered that she could trust him, and on that little hunch she decided to act.

She uncovered her right hand and lifted it into view.

"I don't know how much you can help me with this."

Khev looked momentarily stunned, but his placid expression soon returned.

"More than you might think, Haj-deek. More than you might think."

[ladytanithia]

Comments seem to be turned off, but excellent writing, as always, @mareenavee! I'm very curious about the collab story! Our beloved Lydia, bailing the Dragonborn out of what was probably another stupid decision (because it seems all our Dragonborns can't get through even a week without making a stupid decision. :-D Thanks for tagging me!

WIP WHENEVER! (Wednesday?!)

Hi, today is a bit of a write off day because it's spooky season and NY weather is telling me it's mid-July somehow.

I did manage a little writing :> And I'll be happy to share about ~300 words from two WIPS! But first, tags!

Tagging the amazing and wonderful: @paraparadigm, @changelingsandothernonsense, @thequeenofthewinter, @thana-topsy, @gilgamish, @archangelsunited, @wildhexe, @elfinismsarts, @throughtrialbyfire, @saltymaplesyrup, @snippetsrus, @rainpebble3, @kookaburra1701, @polypolymorph, @inquisition-dragonborn, @orfeoarte, @tallmatcha, @rhiannon1199, @expended-sleeper, @dirty-bosmer, @miraakulous-cloud-district, @nuwanders, @ladytanithia, @viss-and-pinegar, and @late-nite-scholar! Below the cut for shenanigans! WIP 1 has CW for creepy spooky season stuff and WIP 2 has CW for Neloth (yes) and his canon-typical racism (circa Nerevarine times in Morrowind.)

1) Spooky Collab pending a title with @thequeenofthewinter and @thana-topsy! Uldwin is his OC, and this is the downfall timeline. (: Writing is mine.

The ramp that led up to the mushroom tower was itself rotting through, stringy, toxic orange webs of slime mold eating away at the fungus. Lydia balanced precariously on the wooden support beams, cursing the weight of the daedric armor Uldwin had gifted her. Its enchantment sang to her, too—a whisper of some Bosmeri prayer. Like his voice, scratchy from use of the Thu’um. She swallowed hard against another wave of grief. This, perhaps, had been the last of his efforts to spare her whatever fate he’d willingly walked into.

The door to the tower swung open of its own accord, iron hinges rusted and knob caked with mud and grime. Then… Whatever it was had become aware of her presence. This did not bode well at all. She stepped through into the darkness, unable even to cast Candlelight to guide her way forward.

Lydia’s senses were assaulted by the stench of death—mildew and rot, must, pine, the uncomfortable sweetness of fermentation—not at all unlike the smell of Nordic tombs, long undisturbed. She brushed cobwebs away as she crept through the shadows. Dawnbreaker glowed, though its light seemed stifled in this place. Dread settled over her shoulders like a mantle. One step after another. It was all she could do, despite the fear. Despite how very much she wanted to turn and run. She knew she couldn’t. Uldwin didn’t. And now it fell to her to end this nightmare…and to bring him home.As Lydia took another step, something crunched audibly under her boot. A bone. No. She held back a scream as something screeched above her, the noise traveling through her skull like a jolt of Shock magic.

2) Light the Way which is pre-World. Backstory for Neloth and Teldryn, the Nerevarine (: And how they both ended up in the Twin Lamps.

“If I have your attention,” Im-Kilaya said after a particularly grating and reptilian-sounding throat-clearing, “we’ll need you both to help an injured once-shackled individual. His name is Tul, a fellow Saxhleel. Our Eyes have noted his injuries are beyond the help of what potions we have available.” He paused and turned to Sero, handing him a letter. “This, and he will need to be defended until you reach Sterdecan.”

“Do you expect trouble?” Sero asked, scanning the letter. Neloth glanced over his shoulder. It was written in some kind of cipher—it had to have been. Otherwise, it was an egregious misuse of parchment, describing in detail a few fictitious landmarks of Azura’s Coast. He watched as Sero folded up the letter again and tucked it behind the dark chitin plate of his armor.

“Yes, unfortunately. The farmhouse is becoming more visible than we’d like. It’s why this falls to you, Nerevarine. Protect Tul. I don’t know what waits out there in the dark, but the news brings me great discomfort.”

“Orvas has wind of us, doesn’t he?” Teldryn said after a moment. 

Im-Kilaya said nothing, and opted instead to grimace, hands tucked once again into the sleeves of his robes. Teldryn nodded; whatever silent conversation had just occurred between them seemed satisfactory enough.

Neloth knew that name. Duke Vedam’s younger brother, and, at least at one point, the more powerful of the two. There had been rumors about nefarious dealings, and a more recent loss of his position within House Hlaalu. Something Fyr had rattled on about, as he was wont to do, but Neloth hadn’t bothered to listen. He cursed himself for his lack of foresight. Not that Neloth was afraid per se, but what should have been a fairly simple task now seemed infinitely more complex than what he’d at first believed.

[ansu-gurleht]

basically it would make this last part of rabinna more interesting if they did. i want im-kilaya to have this mythical perspective on ku. like she’s a god or something, sent by the hist to liberate the saxhleel race from slavery. maybe him being one of her adherents/soldiers during the war would be the best explanation for why he thinks that way. so maybe not an advisor, he would know her personally too well that way. but a lower ranking officer or run of the mill combatant maybe. hm….

hm. how could i work it that im-kilaya and ku-vastei already know each other?