[The dragon didn't dare to leave Miraak out of his sight in Mirrormoor, not after their turbulent arrival. But right now he desperately needed a moment to himself. Waiting for a chance to sneak away, he finds a nearby corner- just close enough to still be alerted should anything happen to Miraak- and curls up into a ball, burying his snout between his tail and his belly and laying a wing over his head.
Everything had been awful since arriving here, the escape itself, the revalations about their new keeper's powers, the fact he had left the only two dragons he ever called family behind in Apocrypha... he had spent days raking his little brain for any way to save them, wondering if The Golden Eye would have even let them live. Now he finally knew, but the talk with his brothers didn't go as planned. Relonikiv and Kruziikrel could never hope to understand what drove him to act the way he does. But he could not fault them either. They were proper dragons, unlike him. Today proved this once again. What kind of a dragon would ever utter the foulest of mortal words and to one of his own no less?
The Dovahhe are made to rule, Akatosh baked it into the core of their essence when he made them. Tasked to rule over earth and skies, to bring about the end of one kalpa to make way for the next. To subjugate all, never to bow themselves. Dragons didn't beg. It went against their very nature.
And yet Sahrotaar was no stranger to grovelling before others. Mighty Servant they had called him. The name stung, a constant reminder of his shameful behavior. But for weaklings like him, obedience was the only way of survival. His whole life he has always been regarded as inferior by his kin, never did manage to get a temple or following to call his own. Not even the lowliest Sonaakke would give him tribute, if anything he was often expected to be one to do so instead. Always at their mercy, the other dragons had made it a game to see who could get him into the most humiliating position. Trapped by his immortality, he had to endlessly endure any abusive thrown his way.
That had only changed after he met another just as discontented with the order of things; Miraak, he had allowed him to join him, no questions asked. Why, he never understood. He wasn't an outcast like him, considered amongst the strongest of the priests and being the first to awaken the Sossedov, he had every chance to rise to the top of the mortal hierarchy. But Miraak aimed higher, spoke to him of an unthinkable concept; Freedom. The ability to choose for yourself, no worldeaters- no tyrants- over head telling you what to do. A real perspective for a better life and he had the means to see it through, mercilessly killing any Dovah standing in his way. Only sparing him.
Father Akatosh may have granted him life, but Miraak's had been a far greater gift. One he could never hope to repay. It didn't matter where Miraak went or whom he pledged their allegiance to, he was his guide and in turn he would be his shadow, following quietly like a phantom, always ready to serve his word. Anything to ensure his Master was content.
This was his second sin, a Dovah does not feel 'affection'. It is the weakeast- yet most terrible- of emotions, it had the power to undo the mightiest of convictions, bring down even the strongest will. Bending others to do the impossible, it was unpredictable and uncontrollable. It was the very antithesis to domination. For this, it was forbidden for dragons to entertain it for even a moment. But Sahrotaar couldn't help himself, knowing Miraak was safe was the only thing that brought him comfort. He only truely felt at ease around him. Something he could not hope for his Master to be reciprocating. A mortal, a Dovahkriid- could never be a... friend. They were master and servant, the only acceptable relation between Dov and Joor. Of course, he knew he was just another one of his dragons to him. And yet, to him Miraak was everything.
Even his brothers mocked him for this. How could they not? They were not there to see his life before Miraak- and for as long as he drew breath, he would ensure there would not be none after either. Him and Miraak had been a duo against the world, until the many-eyed Prince tricked them into imprisonment. Why Relonikiv and Kruziikrel were in Apocrypha too was something he never asked- though he was certain Miraak knew-, he had silently agreed to not speak of the past with them, too fearful they too would reject him, if they knew who he used to be. And now they had rejected him for who he is instead...
He burrows his face deeper into his scales, until no light could reach his eyes anymore. Mirrormoor was a terrible place, where ever he went, where ever he looked, he was met with countless surfaces reflecting his own image back at him. A stark reminder of what he was and shouldn't be; the only dragon around, once more abanoned by his kin.]
