TES writing blog

Oak or Razak | they/them | you can read about my OCs on my tesblr. Icon is of Talvini, from this Picrew.

[razaks-wheel]

@throwusaboner Hi thank you for the prompt! Like I said in the Makers discord, this sparked me to actually write about the "what if everything went fine; don't worry about it" bubble AU for Ulennus (and Martin).

(Prompt source.)

Rated T/M-ish for some sexual implications.

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Court has been quiet lately, and it's making Ulennus agitated. There haven't been any major incidents in months, and frankly, she'd prefer it if there had been. Incidents are easy to track. There's always someone scheming, and she likes to keep tabs on them. When things are quiet, that's when it's time to worry. (Martin has reminded her that she is not a Blade anymore, but that's all the more reason to gather her own intelligence.)

She stomps up the stairs a step ahead of Martin and practically on top of Baurus, glad for the day to be over. Everyone is so slow today. The sooner they get to the Imperial Suite, the sooner they can be out of view of potential conspirators. There will still be plenty to worry about, of course, but at least their chambers are warded to her satisfaction.

She stiffens when a hand touches the small of her back, even though she knows it's Martin, and she knows he's just reminding her to relax. She doesn't understand why he's so intent on getting her to let her guard down, but she slows down about half a pace—just enough to acknowledge the gesture, and manages to stay that way until they reach their chambers where they can finally be alone.

Ulennus magically sweeps the suite, testing her wards and feeling for anything out of place. When she's as close to satisfied as possible, she drops most of the illusions fine-tuning her appearance and heads to the bedroom to change out of her courtly regalia. Martin follows her, and over her shoulder she sees that he seems to be waiting to talk to her, his face as calm as ever.

"Are you going to chastise me for my paranoia?" she snaps.

He lifts his eyebrows slightly. Of course he's not, and she knows that. She sighs and murmurs an apology while she strips off the outer layers and carefully hangs them in her wardrobe. Martin's hands find her once more, this time settling lightly on her waist.

"Would your troubles be worsened if we canceled all of our appointments for the next two or three days and locked ourselves in here together to focus on relieving some of your stress?"

She closes the door and turns to face him, leaning against the wardrobe as Martin's hands resettle. Her eyes meet his and she tries to maintain her composure as butterflies churn in her stomach.

"That wouldn't make them better," she says carefully.

Martin takes half a step closer so that their torsos are just barely touching.

"That's not what I asked."

Would her troubles be worsened? She's reasonably confident that nothing can get in here, even if the Amulet of Kings is like a beacon throughout time and space, but that's not all she's worried about. What if she misses out on some crucial piece of intelligence while she's locked up here, enjoying herself?

"I...don't know," she finally says.

"Are you dissatisfied with Caius's work?"

She barks a laugh. Despite being stationed in the Imperial City again, Caius refuses to let her review his intelligence reports without due cause. "If you want your old job back, then by all means, take it," he'd said. "Until then, trust me to do mine." Of course, she's too busy with her duties as Emperor Consort to manage a second job as a spymaster of the Blades, so she has to "trust" that he'll alert her of anything that requires attention.

"Should we have him hire more spies?" Martin presses.

"No, number isn't the problem." More spies means more opportunities for weak links and double-agents.

"Then what is the problem?"

The waiting. It's always the waiting for things to start to fall apart, and the dread that once they start, they won't stop until everything is destroyed. Martin won't understand, but that's fine. It's good, probably. That, and she can see the determination in his eyes. This is not a battle Ulennus will win.

"Fine," she concedes with only a little annoyance. "I assume you have suggestions?"

The relief on his face is quickly followed by a broad grin.

"Oh, I have plenty of suggestions," he says, beginning to work the buttons on her vest, "but I need something from you."

"What's that?" She lets Martin slip the vest off her shoulders but catches it before he can let it fall to the floor. As if she'd be caught dead with wrinkled clothes! With a quirk of her eyebrow, she turns around and re-opens the wardrobe, making room by pressing herself against him. He takes the hint and holds her close, placing a few of kisses along the curve of her neck.

"I need your cooperation, as it were," he breathes. "You have to relax for this to work. Can you do that for me?"

Her hands freeze around the hanger.

"I don't know," she says. "Can you make me?"

[razaks-wheel]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls IV: Oblivion, Elder Scrolls III: Morrowind Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Hero of Kvatch | Champion of Cyrodiil & Caius Cosades, Caius Cosades & Original Character Characters: Sheogorath | Hero of Kvatch, Caius Cosades Additional Tags: background Martin/HoK, Based on UOL, Post-Oblivion Crisis Series: Part 3 of From bad to worse - the Ulennus Hlethi extended universe Summary:

Ulennus, twice-former agent of the Blades and current Sheogorath, drops in on Caius's visit to Uriel VII's grave.

[razaks-wheel]

[This is from a "bad" AU where Dreveni has to stay in the second era after Ildari goes home. She's around 16 here. Dunmeris headcanons: instead of separate words for mother and father, we're using "Ama [Name]." And "daeli" is like aunt/uncle/friend-of-family/great grandmother who doesn't want to feel old, etc.]

The main hall of High Fane is empty but for the four of them, as it often goes when Dreveni is involved, at least on Nirn-Above. In the Clockwork City, she may have been recognized as Sotha Sil's daughter, but the other Tribunes seem uncomfortable with giving that idea legitimacy in Tribunal canon, so it's all very hush-hush up here. Though, as much as it annoys her to be treated like an inconvenient secret, she is looking forward to the opportunity to be treated like a person instead of a princess or...godlet, even if it requires this frankly humiliating setup.

Her father looks nervous, at least to her. Probably not to her gah-gahama Milia—who will be posing as her aunt while she's here—but she suspects Daeli Vehk can tell, at least. Honestly, though, if he's so nervous, why is he making her pretend to join the Buoyant Armigers? Why is he making her leave the Clockwork City at all? So what if she got caught exploring the radius alone once or twice? And, sure, she has trouble making friends her own age when they all refuse to see her as a peer, but, well...exile just feels a bit extreme.

...No one likes when she calls it that. Ama Seht has chided her—sorry, clarified\—a few times that this is not a punishment. It's For Her Own Good. She Will Be Glad For The Experience. Everyone talks about it like it's a vacation, and not a series of apprenticeships. A stint as an Armiger now, some time in Mournhold acting as a junior priest of Sotha Sil later, and maybe they'll even send her to Artaeum for a while if she's "good." That one, she can get behind.

First things first, though.

In House Dunmeri custom, vows on the Tribunal are made by three parties: the two who will be bound by the agreement, and a third to observe; it is preferable that the third be a priest or other agent of the Three. This, of course, becomes more complicated when the two being bound by the vow are Tribunes themselves. They considered having Daeli Ayem oversee the vow, but she was otherwise occupied. They could have invited a Hand, but there are none who know of Dreveni's unique status. Thus, they decided that for the sake of fairness, both Milia—a Buoyant Armiger representing Vivec—and Dreveni—representing Sotha Sil—would serve as observers, for each others' connections. Nothing is ever simple, though if pressed she would admit she likes it that way.

The two Tribunes join hands, gold to brass.

"Muthsera Vivec, please state your vow," Dreveni begins as she was instructed. It feels strange addressing her daeli so formally, but then, when this is over, ze will sort of be her boss for a while, so she supposes she should get used to it.

"I shall keep Muthsera Sotha Dreveni Llothri from coming into any harm while under my protection," ze says, eyes fixed on her father.

"Muthsera Sotha Sil, please state your vow," Daeli Milia says, keeping her composure despite probably having the opposite problem, practically giving orders to one of her gods. At least she has probably done this a million times, even if under different circumstances.

"Any harm that comes to Muthsera Sotha Dreveni Llothri, I shall enact a hundredfold upon Muthsera Vivec," Ama Seht replies in equal solemnity.

This whole thing is...weird. Naturally, she knows there's more to the so-called Clockwork God than he usually shows—"the wrath of lost Ald Sotha" and all that—but this feels extreme. Does Dreveni really need to be coddled like this? It's not like Daeli Vehk would allow anything to happen to her in the first place. Frankly, if something does happen, she'd hate to see it taken out on hir as well, but then, this is probably all for show, anyway. A hundred is, obviously, a lot. Too much to be realistic. It's one of those rhetorical devices Daeli Vehk loves. Maybe she'll get better at those while she's in exile.

A hum of energy passes between the Tribunes, and the vow is sealed. They separate, and Daeli Vehk—Lord Vivec, that is—turns to her with a bright smile.

"Your turn!" ze says.

Dreveni goes to one knee, self-consciously. She'll have to get used to this, too.

Making a gesture of blessing, Vivec proclaims, "Sotha Dreveni Llothri, I hereby induct you into the ranks of my personal guard. Rise, my Buoyant Armiger."

Dreveni feels the rush of divine energy pass over her as she stands back up, but it's brief; Buoyant Armigers don't get permanent blessings like Her Hands do, or like all Three gave her when she was born. She finds herself blushing. It's not that she's a stranger to pomp and ceremony, but usually it's either private or formal. This is both, and it's hard for her to know precisely how to act. Dread settles into her stomach as she realizes just how many more situations she's going to have to learn to adjust to. By the time her eyes return to her daeli, ze has produced a set of glass armor and it handing it to her.

"Typically, junior Armigers wear chitin, but given the circumstances"—ze gives her father a pointed look—"I thought it prudent to start you with something stronger."

She takes the armor with a careful word of thanks—she doesn't want to look ungrateful for the experience, even if she is. She can admit that running around fighting monsters and cultists does sound like it has its upsides, but she's a mage, like her father (and, apparently, her mother, not that she ever really knew her). She's going to come out of this with more than a few bruises—and Daeli Vehk a few more than that, apparently.

Once that is done, she turns to her father, who places a hand affectionately on her shoulder.

"You know that you may call on me any time you need me," he says. Not that he'd want her to, of course. He probably can't wait to spend so much time on the Throne Aligned uninterrupted by her needs.

Clutching her new armor to her chest and suddenly feeling very small, she gives him the practiced soft smile that she learned from him—so, naturally, he sees right through it.

Giving her an apologetic smile of his own, he says, "I cannot—and, indeed, would not—demand that you trust us. Yet I nonetheless hope that you will, or at least that you will understand. More than that, however, I hope that you enjoy yourself, shavish com."

He bends down and places a kiss on the top of her head and then vanishes.

[razaks-wheel]

Chapters: 2/2 Fandom: Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls IV: Oblivion Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Hero of Kvatch | Champion of Cyrodiil/Martin Septim, Martin Septim/Sheogorath Characters: Martin Septim, Original Dunmer Character(s) (Elder Scrolls), Hero of Kvatch | Champion of Cyrodiil, Sheogorath | Hero of Kvatch, Nonbinary Hero of Kvatch | Champion of Cyrodiil, Avatar of Akatosh | Martin Septim, Akatosh (Elder Scrolls) Additional Tags: character who is afraid of intimacy experiencing intimacy, knight-and-liege to lovers i guess?, Vaginal Fingering, Penis In Vagina Sex, Light Dom/sub, Praise, night before the Battle of Bruma, and also post-Great War, Trauma, non-standard body configurations, Shapeshifting, tentacles in spirit if not in precise definition, Anal Sex, Double Penetration, Frottage, blowjob, Identity Weirdness, Genderfuckery, Porn with Feelings, Incorporeal Sex, Crying During Sex, penetrative sex in miscellaneous holes Series: Part 4 of From bad to worse - the Ulennus Hlethi extended universe Summary:

Ulennus has never been one for intimacy of any kind, but on the eve of the Battle of Bruma, Ulennus and Martin finally accept their feelings for one another and spend the night together.

The next time they see each other is nearly two centuries later, long after Martin has become an extension of Akatosh and Ulennus has become Sheogorath. Despite Martin's challenged history with daedra, they make up for lost time, unconstrained by mortal laws of nature.

---

As Squidward Tentacles once said: Well, here you go.

[razaks-wheel]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

Finally finished Ulennus's second miniseries. This is the part where she kills the Nerevarine.

[razaks-wheel]

Tumblr doesn't want to embed, but I've posted ch. 3 of The Hero's Demise, which focuses on what Ulennus is doing while Ereval is doing Morrowind. Mostly, she's plotting to kill him. In this chapter, she has tea with Queen Mother Barenziah and confirms her intelligence that Almalexia is dead, while Barenziah tries to warn her not to do anything rash.

[razaks-wheel]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

I'm working on another Ulennus miniseries, this one being what she's doing during Morrowind (more specifically, how she's planning on killing the nerevarine).

[razaks-wheel]

[Ereval, the new Blades agent that Ulennus has been spying on, approaches her for sponsorship in House Hlaalu, allegedly. Ulennus figures out why he's in Morrowind and starts plotting his demise.]

"Come in," Ulennus called when she heard Lona's footsteps approaching her study and being followed by an unfamiliar set. She must be bringing a visitor.

When the door opened, her eyes lit up. She recognized the mer her Housekeeper had in tow: he was the agent who had been shipped over from the Imperial City last month. What an incredible boon—and incredible danger—to have a person she had been spying on walk right into her home.

"Lord Hlethi," Lona said in Cyrodilic, "may I present to you Ereval Bralen, Lawman of the Great House Hlaalu. He comes to ask for your support for his adoption into House Hlaalu as a full member."

"Ah, thank you, Lona. Please shut the door on your way out." And stay armed just outside, she did not need to say.

Then she turned her smile on the youth in front of her. He was short and lanky, wearing a pack so big it looked like it should tip him over, and he carried himself with more confidence than was probably earned. She motioned for him to sit across from her.

"I was hoping you'd stop by," she said. "It's good to finally meet you, Ereval. I have heard so much about you."

If this frightened him, he made no indication. Good actor, perhaps? Or had he not even done his research?

"The pleasure is mine, Lord Hlethi," he replied with an easy smile.

"So you wish to be adopted into the Great House Hlaalu? I must say, I am honored that you would ask me to sponsor you." Caius sent him, most likely. "Allow me to collect the paperwork."

If he were here to assassinate her, now would be the perfect time to do it. Ulennus kept her attention on all of her detection effects even as she turned away to reach for the papers. Though his eyes followed her, he made no move for a weapon nor spell—must be a longer-term information-gathering endeavor, then. That was for the best—she'd hate to have to kill him so soon—but of course it also meant she would need to keep her guard up at all times around him. Unfortunate, but relatively routine.

She turned back with the papers, signed her portion and passed them across the table.

"I have been all over Tamriel, and nowhere have I found any business as cutthroat as Dunmeri House politics. Whatever you have seen on the Imperial City streets, it is nothing compared to what you are getting into. And make no mistake: you are no safer from your fellow Hlaalu than you are from the rival Houses. If you are to make this your life, Ereval, you will need allies. That is what this agreement is: your first alliance. I am a valuable ally for a young Hlaalu, if I may say so myself, but there is something you need to know, and I'd prefer that you learn it the easy way: you can only trust me as far as I can trust you." She scanned his face for any discomfort, but his easy smile never faltered. That would be good if he were a typical applicant, but she preferred the targets of her spying to be a little more open—but she was sure her web would manage regardless. "If that sounds satisfactory to you, then sign and House Hlaalu will welcome its new kinsman."

He signed the papers without much more than a glance at their contents.

As he was passing them back, Ulennus nodded in the direction of his bag. "That's quite a hefty pack. Where's Caius got you off to this time?"

Ereval's head tilted slightly, in cautiously feigned confusion. "Caius, my lord?"

"Cosades. Your employer." She held his gaze for longer than she hoped was comfortable, though she let no malice show. "You must have assumed I would look into you before adopting you into my House."

"Of course," he smiled as if through a mouthful of undercooked bittergreen. "Are you a friend of Caius's, then?"

So Caius hadn't even told him about her, much less sent him to spy on her? Now that was interesting. He could turn out to be an open book if she could convince him that they were allies.

"We go way back."

"I see. Well, I'm sure you can understand that due to the sensitive nature of my assignment..."

"I understand completely," she assured him. "I only thought I might offer some advice if I had any."

The mer's ears all but perked up. Wherever he was going, it must not be pleasant. He still hesitated, but eventually his curiosity won out.

"He wants me to clear out a cave on the Bitter Coast."

"Smugglers?" she asked just before it occurred to her. "Sleepers."

"Enough to wipe out the last unit of Legionnaires who tried."

She sat back in her seat, arms folded in contemplation. "Have you done something to upset His Majesty?"

Ereval chuckled bitterly. "I've asked myself the same thing, but Caius promoted me before he sent me off. I think it's that if I die, I'm not the one they were looking for anyway."

So it was a matter of prophecy, then. That made enough sense; why else would the Blades hire some nobody out of prison and send him to a different province? She would need to review her sources, but she had a pretty good idea which one, and it was not necessarily good for the people of Morrowind—at least not if the Emperor was getting involved. Perhaps he could be nudged off the path...

"So he's sending you to your death, unless you happen to be, what? Favored by the gods?" Ulennus asked. "Are you comfortable with that, going on a suicide mission just because your employer told you to?"

"It...is not my place to question the Emperor's will," he said, letting his eyes drift downward.

"Of course not," she accepted with a smile. The seed was planted. "I'll hold off on giving you any assignments until you've returned safe and sound. Fight well."

He took the cue and turned to leave. Ulennus caught Lona's eye through the doorway and gave her a look that said, "Come back when you've seen him off." Once alone, she slipped into the hidden chamber where she kept her most sensitive intelligence and dug out the folder on prophecy. There was really only one thing it could possibly be, especially given the whispers floating around lately, but she had to be sure.

The environmental circumstances were certainly right for it, but everyone knew that. The information had gaps, but what she did have mapped on well enough. Orphan, foreigner, and she would need to find out his sign, but she had her suspicions. There were a few mentions of cursed flesh that could even explain why Caius was testing him by sending him into a Sleepers' den. She snapped the file shut and brought it back into her office just in time to see Lona returning and closing the door behind her.

"Damn Uriel," Ulennus hissed, sliding the file across the desk to her assistant and falling into her seat. "Memorize that, and find me anything else you can on it."

Lona picked the documents up and began to leaf through them. "The Nerevarine...what does the Empire want with an Ashlander prophecy, and a Daedric one at that?"

"According to Ashlander theology, Azura is the enemy of the Tribunal. And as long as the Tribunal are in power, we have the right to self-govern."

Lona put it together from there. "He wants to remove our last bastion of defense against total Imperial control."

"And he's using that poor fetcher to do it."

Lona knew when to let Ulennus think, and so the two of them sat in contemplative silence for a few moments longer. If they were lucky, the problem would solve itself in that cave. If not, Ulennus would need to instruct her web double the effort they were putting into keeping tabs on him; she might still be able to nudge him off his course. If all that failed, though, she would need to seriously consider grimmer options, which would be a pity. That young mer could have a bright future in House Hlaalu, if he ever had the chance. She sighed. As unfortunate as it was, it was best to lay the plans now.

"Have Firil follow him to the cave. If he comes out alive, I'd like you to get an estimate from the Morag Tong."

[razaks-wheel]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

And Ulennus's story comes to a conclusion! (again.)

This link contains four shorter fics that cover some of the major emotional story beats: the aftermath of the Warp in the West, contracting vampirism, the preparation for the Battle for Bruma, and their final descent into "madness."

I've really enjoyed rotating them in my mind, and I hope you enjoy these too, if you are so inclined.

[razaks-wheel]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

Sort of formalizing some minifics I wrote about Ulennus. The first chapter is one I already posted here, but the second (and eventual third) are new to the broader internet.

Ulennus's overall arc is basically playing every side, meticulously controlling everything possible, and then waiting for it all to fall apart. These stories chronicle that falling apart.

[razaks-wheel]

Epilogue for Ulennus

[I just finished Daggerfall, so I wrote a little epilogue for my Agent, a couple years after they return home. I'm sure it'll be fine and nothing bad will happen ever. Note: Ulennus is genderfluid and uses any pronouns, and I spun the proverbial wheel and went with she/her today.]

Ulennus grasps her mug of kaveh in both hands and takes in the rich aroma. She had the beans imported straight from Rihad and roasted them herself in her manor. The drink is hotter than anyone ever made it on her travels outside of Morrowind, but for her it's the perfect hand-warming temperature. She brings it to her lips and takes a sip, letting the scalding liquid warm her insides as well. Balmora may not exactly be on the coast, but it is far enough from Red Mountain that it still gets chilly on Frostfall mornings.

After a moment, she snaps her attention back to the world around her. It is not wise for someone of her reputation to let their guard down for very long. Footsteps approach. She makes no indication that she notices at first, but she is listening intently. The steps are neither hurried nor cautious, and their rhythm is one she recognizes. She is not in danger, for the moment. She puts on an easy smile for her Housekeeper and sets the mug down, being sure to catch a stray droplet before it lands on the new nightwood table.

"Good morning, Lona," she greets the woman.

"Good morning, Serjo Hlethi. You're up early." Lona's smile is practiced and unreadable.

"I wanted to get some extra work in," Ulennus says with a lighthearted shrug. She has no intention of telling Lona about the nightmares that have been keeping her up.

"Then may it be a productive day. I've left my intelligence reports on your desk as per usual, but your web has picked up some whispers that you may find...concerning. I thought it best to tell you myself."

The levity in Ulennus's expression fades. Her enemies extend far beyond those expected in House politics, and so she makes sure her spy network—her "web"—does as well. Unfortunately, that also expands the ways things could go wrong. She runs though all the possibilities in her mind. If it were something as simple as a Writ of Honorable Execution taken out on her, Lona would have called that "pressing," but not concerning. She has an assassin of her own on the payroll, so these things are typically dealt with swiftly and without issue. Something else, then. A double-agent in her web's ranks would be concerning, but they're usually taken care of before word even reaches her. Perhaps they've caused more trouble than her employees could handle on their own? Has something been leaked to the Empire?

She shakes the thoughts away. There's no use troubling herself with what might be when she could simply ask what is.

"Go on."

"An agent of the Blades has moved in across the river."

Ulennus's brow furrows in question. "There are already a few Blades in town. Are you having trouble keeping tabs on them?"

"Not at all, serjo," Lona assures her. "It's just that this one is Caius Cosades."

She sits bolt upright, wincing as she jostles the table and spills some of her kaveh. "The spymaster?"

Lona nods grimly.

"Any clues as to why he's here?"

"None yet, but we will redouble our efforts."

"Good," Ulennus says. Her gaze drifts away as she makes a plan. "I'll re-arm my wards for good measure. I will also need guards. Assemble dossiers on candidates you think would be a good fit. Oathmen or higher, and make sure they understand subtlety. I don't need the place to look guarded. I'll also need you to ensure that every strand of my web is completely loyal. If you get so much as a whiff of doubt, tell me. More than a whiff, and you have my leave to kill them." She is not normally so brutal, but this is not a normal situation. "And you, Lona, will have a raise, as thanks for your continued loyalty." There is a thinly veiled threat in there, yes, but the girl does deserve the raise. More importantly, it will keep her happy and less likely to be bought out.

"You are ever a gracious lord," Lona says. Her polite smile does not change. Her fluency in House etiquette will get her far. "I will go to work immediately. Fair day to you."

Ulennus hardly notices her leave, distracted as she is. It has been just five years since she betrayed the Emperor. She had given the Totem of Tiber Septim to the King of Worms—God of Worms now—and he had kept his promise and harmlessly departed the plane with it and the Mantella, gifting her with enough fame to make her too important for the Empire to do anything too blatant in retaliation. She had hoped that would be enough, but that was before (or was it during?) the Warp. By the end, everyone had gotten what they wanted—except for Ulennus. For years she played the loyal Blade, all the while relaying the goings-on of the Emperor's inner circle back to her House and the Temple, and biding her time. She had thought she had an opening, a chance finally to get the better of the Empire for getting her father killed in what would become the beginning of her career. But somehow the Emperor had still been able to use the Numidium for his own ends, and now, with more power and less unrest to worry about, he has more resources to come after her.

She fetches a bottle of Cyrodilic brandy and adds some to her kaveh.

That's the funny thing about fame. It got her a seat on her House's council, an impressive manor, her pick of luxury goods, and all the connections she needs. There's gold in it too, of course: her high profile makes her her a desirable sponsor of House enterprise, allowing her to grow her fortune and making it easier to maintain what she has. On the other hand, it makes it very difficult for her to hide. All of the caution of the past half decade has been but a prelude to this. This is something new. This is fear.

The nightmares worsen in the following days, but she hardly sleeps anyway. Her employees must think her paranoid, even soulsick. Is she? ...Does it matter? Her new guards take on various pretend roles: a gardener, a chef, a lover. She reads and rereads intelligence reports, scouring them for anything she may have missed on the first pass, or the second. The attack never comes, of course—the local Imperial spymaster has other plans—but this is her life now. She wonders dimly if this was the Emperor's plan all along. She played a long game with him, now he's playing one with her, letting her live in fear until one of them dies.

At least time is on her side.

[razaks-wheel]

@sasslett Hi and thank you! I picked the drabble option and wrote a little thing about learning to love your old self. :) (prompt source)

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"Foolish" was what she called it looking back, when she was around fifteen. In the face of the Red Year, a seven-year-old with a children's alchemy set could not have made any meaningful contributions with her watery, chunky health potions, she thought. The adults in Dreveni's life never made such claims, though. No, her mother, her great-grandmother, even Vivec regarded her potions with the same gravity as the Temple healers' skills. And two, five, ten decades later, Dreveni came to agree that her teenage self was the foolish one. She had a child's unwavering compassion. How could she disparage that?

[razaks-wheel]

[Talvini needs to fulfill a Daedric contract, which is totally chill and has never caused problems before.]

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"I was thinking of taking a...pilgrimage, if you will. A sabbatical. To the Telvanni Peninsula," Talvini said over dinner.

"Is that so?" Milia asked with a raised eyebrow. She knew her partner well enough to know there was more to it that Talvini was just waiting to share. "What sort of pilgrimage-sabbatical?"

"Oh, you know. Check out the libraries on the peninsula, see my ancestors in Necrom, investigate the whispers that might be related to a Daedric contract I got myself roped into that deals with the fate of the world, that sort of thing."

Milia set her fork down and opened her mouth to protest.

"It's fine, though, really!" Talvini said before her partner could say anything. "It's not going to be a repeat of the Clavicus Vile thing. The Three trust us, right? When the world is at stake, we're allowed to go around doctrine by a little bit. I know that now." With the right words, she might even be able to convince herself.

With a sigh, Milia found her fork again, though it did not make its way back to her plate quite yet. "Well, it's not one of the Good Daedra or you would have led with that. Bad, then? Or neither?"

"Neither." She watched Milia begin to relax, almost reaching for a bite of food, and decided it was best to drop the identity before she could get too complacent. "It's Hermaeus Mora."

The fork went back down, and her shoulders rose and fell in a deep breath. "I'm sure I don't need to tell you why this is a bad idea, right?"

"I've...dealt with Daedra before."

"You're avoiding the question. You're a mage. He preys on mages."

"Which is why I'm going in knowing that I need to be careful. You know I'm not that reckless, as mages go. I have a good Tribunal education on top of my magical one. I know not to give into the temptations, no matter how much knowledge he offers. Plus," she reached out and took Milia's former fork-hand, "I might just have my Buoyant Armiger girlfriend there to help me if I get in over my head. I bet Vivec would approve you for a field mission."

---

"Your field mission has been approved!" Vivec said, completely unprompted, when Milia arrived at the temple the following day.

"Of course you knew about it," she mumbled.

"Of course I knew about it!" Vivec agreed happily.

"And you really trust Hermaeus Mora not to try to pull in a Telvanni mage?"

"No. I trust the protections my companions and I have over Morrowind, I trust Seht's Coldharbour Compact of which Hermaeus Mora is a part, and I trust the two of you." Still, hir usually confident smile faded somewhat, and ze leaned in and said in a quieter voice, "Just keep an eye on Talvini. I know that she knows not to give into Mora, but she doesn't know that. She's more afraid than she lets on. She needs you for more than just a jaunt to the tombs, romantic as that may be."

Milia nodded pensively. She didn't really need to be told, but it did help to have it laid out so concretely. "I will, muthsera."

"Good!" ze proclaimed, snapping back to hir usual jovial tones. "Enjoy your time in Necrom!"

[razaks-wheel]

[Velsa thinks Milia was hired by the Arendis family.]

---

Mivynea, Come to my garden as soon as you can. I need to talk to you.

The note was pinned to a post in the Thieves' Den and, to Milia's surprise and worry, was signed with a Daedric vehk.

Why is Vivec using my Thieves Guild alias? she wondered. And why is ze pulling me out of this assignment so suddenly? ...And when did ze get a garden?

But the confusion left just as quickly as it came, as she remembered that her Dunmeri colleague's name also started with a vehk.

So Velsa wanted to see her. Odd. She didn't seem like the type to spend more time with her colleagues than necessary. This must be important.

Milia carefully made her way to the garden, as she was told, hopping down from a neighboring roof. Velsa was nowhere to be seen at first glance, but there was a presence behind her. Her initial brush with death a few years ago had encouraged her to learn how not to get bonked on the head by unseen assailants, and so she sidestepped the blow, grabbing the...Dwemer rod, apparently...and tugging it free of Velsa's hands.

"Strange way to show hospitality to an invited guest," she said. "Aren't you an alchemist? Couldn't you have just offered me poisoned tea?"

"Please, that would have been obvious."

"Unlike your current methods, I suppose?"

Velsa glowered.

"Okay, clearly you see me as some sort of threat," Milia said. "I'm here on your turf, on your terms. Is that not enough? I'll even disarm myself." She tossed her weapons and the Dwemer rod on the ground in front of her. Velsa was more bark than bite. She was fairly confident she could handle herself against her if it came to it.

"You have magic," Velsa said.

"And you have my word that I won't use it against you unless you make me. Now, can you tell me why I'm here?"

Velsa sighed and motioned her to a table.

"Who do you work for, Mivynea?"

"I work for Zeira," she said nonchalantly, taking the seat across from her host.

No suspicion on the concealed identity front, then—or at least the name. That was good.

"Spare me," Velsa snapped. "A mysterious Dunmer with a glass staff and a Morrowind accent shows up, hardly showing her face, whose skills in stealth frankly leave a lot to be desired, and days later someone slips this letter in my pocket, and you expect me to believe you're not sent from House Dres? What do you want? To spy on me? To kill me?"

Milia ignored the barb. Of course her skills in stealth were lacking—that was why Vivec had sent her to train.

"May I see that letter?" she asked.

Velsa handed over the letter slowly, her eyes tracing Milia's every move. Milia tried to ignore the piercing gaze as she scanned the letter. It was a brief well-wish written in Cyrodilic. There was some strange residue on it, but she could ask about that later. She wondered what about it was so frightening to Velsa.

"First of all, Velsa, you're reaching," she said, softening her voice now. "Dres is a mainland house. I have a Western Vvardenfell accent. In fact, I am an upstanding member of House Redoran. I dislike House Dres as much as you seem to think they dislike you."

Velsa kept scanning her face as if searching for the lie, though none was to be found.

"In that case," she said after a long moment, "what brings House Redoran's most average thief all the way to the Guild?"

Milia smiled under her mask. She was starting to see why so many of her colleagues—thieves and Armigers alike—liked when they had a chance to engage in subterfuge. The reveal was exciting.

"Well, I suppose there's no harm in telling you," she said dramatically. "Assuming you can keep a secret, that is."

Velsa rolled her eyes. "I'm not in the habit of gossipping with guildmates."

She leaned in close and whispered, "My patron sent me to train my thieving skills with some of Tamriel's best."

Velsa raised an eyebrow, poorly feigning disinterest. "Your patron?"

Milia inclined her head pointedly toward her glass staff on the ground. "The Thief hirself."

Velsa's eyes widened. "You're a Buoyant Armiger?"

"I am," Milia said. "And in addition to training my skills, I suspect I'm also here to help you deal with this Dres issue. What else can you tell me about it?"

When Velsa had given Milia all the information she needed to pursue the half-naked Nord, Milia picked up her weapons and made to leave. She hopped up on the wall overlooking the garden, then paused and turned partway back to face Velsa.

"Oh, one last thing." She cupped a hand to her masked mouth and loudly whispered, "My name's not really Mivynea."

[razaks-wheel]

What an odd looking Telvanni tower, Ildari thought as Tel Vos came into view.

At first, she wasn’t sure if she was even heading in the right direction. It looked more like an Imperial outpost. But no, as it grew closer, she could see that it also had the distinctive mycological touch unique to Telvanni architecture. She cast her levitation spell, a spell that she had learned so early in life and yet used so rarely growing up in the Imperial City, and was now able to use more freely than ever before. The thrill of watching the ground fall away beneath her swept away most of her nervousness as she ascended to the tower’s entrance.

The tower’s wizard, Master Aryon, looked at her curiously until she introduced herself as Ildari Melas, and his eyes lit up in recognition. She wondered how much of that recognition was from the present task, or from her recent reintroduction to House Telvanni—this mage was, coincidentally, the one people had suggested that she consider seeking out as a patron for her studies. She assumed it was a mix. Either way, he took the package she had been instructed to deliver to Cosades and set about decoding it.

“Strange,” he said after a few minutes of work. “Normally the Imperials use the carrier’s name for these codes. This should be trivial to crack. Did they change ciphers…?”

He seemed to be speaking mostly to himself, but Ildari responded anyway.

“Try Llothri instead of Melas. That’s another name the Imperials might have used.”

“Llothri…yes, that might work.” He returned his attention to his work for a brief moment, but then paused and looked back up at her with the same curiosity as before. “Any relation to Talvini Llothri?”

“I’m not actually sure, serjo,” she said. “I don’t know my family very well, other than that I have some Telvanni ancestry. So if she’s from the House, then it’s possible.”

“She’s a Master rank in the House, as it happens.” His gaze fell back on the coded package as he spoke. “Has a tower over by, uh”—he waved a hand without looking up—“somewhere in the Bay. One of those cloaked towers. She’s not the type to get too involved in the outside world these days.”

He put his quill down, scanned his decoded copy quickly, and then slipped it into his robe pocket with just enough interest on his face to make Ildari even more curious than she had been.

“Come to think of it, I don’t even know if Serjo Llothri’s still alive,” he continued as though there had been no pause. “She must be around a thousand. Last I heard about her was probably ten or so years ago, when rumors say she got into a screaming match with the Tribunal after they got her wife killed on some Buoyant Armiger mission.” He chuckled. “She’s got guts, that much I know. I doubt she’d let anything kill her, least of all age.”

“She sounds…interesting.”

“Where’d you get the name Melas, then?”

As much as Ildari wished for the conversation to return to what was in the letter, she had a feeling that it was for the best to play along.

“From my mother—my adopted mother—Faryn Melas. A friend of my birth parents. They were…well, they died when I was a baby.”

Aryon’s eyes narrowed in even more interest for just a moment, but rather than explain, he said, “I’m sorry to hear that. I think Faryn Melas studied under Llothri back in the day; I remember reading some papers they co-authored. She probably is your ancestor.” He paused, his hand floating toward the letter in his pocket, and then added, "Don’t go seeking her out, though. She likes her seclusion and all that. I’m sure she’ll come to you if she wants to connect.

“That said, you might want to consider using the name Llothri, at least when it comes to House affairs. It carries more weight than Melas. And on that note, Ildari Melas-or-Llothri, I hear you’re looking for a patron.”

[razaks-wheel]

A child entered the palace, prayer book in hand, followed closely by a priest. Having been raised in the Temple for all eight years of their life thus far, they had met with Vivec plenty of times before. This time, however, was special. It was the first time they had come to make an offering of their own.

Vivec welcomed them with a smile and floated downward so that ze was just taller than the child. The child walked up to their god and knelt, just as the priest had instructed them, and opened their prayer book to the bookmarked page.

"Blessed are we who serve ALMSIVI," the child said. That was a phrase they knew without reading, though they kept the book open in preparation for the next parts.

"Rise, friend," Vivec said.

The child stood and turned their attention back to the page.

"I bring you an offering," they read. "Please accept the gender that was given to me at birth. I have no more use for it, and we Tribunal faithful know that you will find value in it and cherish it."

They skipped the next line, the one about having a new gender now. The priest had said that was okay to leave out if they wanted.

"Please also accept the name that was given to me at birth. I have kept it close for"—they filled in the blank—"eight years, but now I will be known by another."

They hesitated. The book didn't say anything about how to actually give Vivec these things they were offering. How could they give a gender? Or a name? They glanced to the priest, who simply nodded encouragingly. They knew she could not read their mind, and therefore could not answer their sudden, unexpected question.

Determined to do this right, they reached toward their chest and pulled out some invisible object, and then held it out for Vivec to take.

If this was the wrong thing to do, Vivec made no indication. Ze reached out and took the object from the child's hand with a grateful nod.

"By what name will we know you now?" ze asked.

The child lowered the prayer book and closed their eyes. They would do this part from memory.

"I will now be known as Adyn."

They opened their eyes to see Vivec beaming.

"Thank you for these wonderful offerings, Adyn," ze said. "I will treasure them unendingly and ensure that they burden you no longer."

[razaks-wheel]

Snippet from a way-future chapter of Journeyed Far

[After Ildari learns that she’s pregnant and is deciding what to do, she and Sotha Sil go to the Cavern of the Incarnate to ask Azura about her future plans for Ildari. (They don’t expect it to go well.)]

The Valley of the Wind was, predictably, windy. Combined with the cool dawn air, Iya huddled closer to Seht for warmth, wishing she had worn something with sleeves. It was also nice to finally have a friend close by at this place that was so entwined with her destiny, where she normally became keenly aware of how alone she was. Seht seemed to detect this—or at least that she was cold—and wrapped an arm around her.

“How are we going to do this?” she asked at the door. “I doubt you’re planning on kneeling?”

“I am not, but I would sit next to you if you choose to.”

“That works,” she said. “I’ll do most of the talking?”

Seht nodded. “I will follow your lead.”

The Cavern was quiet on the inside, save for the faint, wispy hum of ancestor spirits at the edge of her consciousness. Ildari let the gravity of the place fill her like she always did as they approached the shrine. She knelt; Seht sat down beside her. After taking a few moments to center herself, Ildari spoke in a quiet voice.

“My Prince, I have come to seek your counsel. As I am sure you are aware, I am pregnant, and in order to determine how to proceed, I need to consider what my future holds. Of course, my future is in your hands, and so I would ask you two questions: Do I have more prophecies to fulfill? And, how much longer can I expect to stay in this time?”

Before Azura could even respond, Ildari felt her rage rip through the ancestors and burrow into her chest. “That you would bring that usurper to defile this holy place is bad enough, but you would dare carry his child?” the Prince’s voice rang through the chamber.

“I would. Sotha Sil is my friend, and the revival of his House—a House that once served you before they were all killed by Mehrunes Dagon—would honor his ancestors.”

“You insult me by even entertaining the thought,” Azura said. “Rest assured that your prophecies are in your past. If you would disrespect me so blatantly, then I have no further use for you, nor for your profane spawn.”

Ildari let that hang in the air for a long time while she sat, choosing her next words carefully.

“My Prince, I recognize that we may not agree on everything, but I have served you loyally for four millennia.” She stood up and turned her gaze on the statue’s face, trying to keep herself from shaking while her heart pounded in her chest. “Know this, however: if you so much as look at my child wrong, I will see you disgraced in the eyes of the Dunmer again in my time. Do not doubt that I have that power.”

A chill settled over the chamber, and she stood there in silence, joined now by Seht who had also risen to his feet at some point while she was talking. The silence dragged on long enough for Ildari to begin to wonder whether that was the end of it, but Azura finally spoke once more.

“Five years, and then you will return to the Fourth Era. That is the generous reward I offer you for your loyal service.” The vitriol in her voice was almost palpable. “Do not expect to hear from me again, mortal.”

The energy coming off the shrine vanished suddenly, leaving only a stone statue devoid of divine presence. The shift was so jarring that Ildari felt like the breath had been ripped from her lungs. Even the ancestors felt quieter.

“Are you ready to go?” Seht asked carefully.