☆ art by enolezdrata | manip by IrishSkye | dividers by saradika-graphics ☆
What Loving You Cost Me - Chapter 4 - The Pact Sealed
Orvas Dren x Original Female Character
☆ Chapter 4 - The Pact Sealed ☆ 5,182 words ☆ Explicit ☆
☆ Summary ☆
When Twin Lamps member Ayleth Neribael falls into the hands of the most notorious slaver on Vvardenfell, Orvas Dren, she makes a deal with him to save the life of a friend. A deal that shifts her life irrevocably from abolitionist to the top of the very institution that she has sworn to oppose. A deal that forces her to confront her past whilst building her future alongside a man she is supposed to hate—but soon finds herself unable to do so.
Dark romance with a villainous MMC.
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☆ Snippet below ☆
It was odd, looking at herself, almost like she was looking at someone else entirely. Ayleth could see shades of her mother, father, grandmother, which only reminded her how far away she was from them. Tears threatened, and she had to carefully dab them away.
“Bring me the necklace,” she told Dralin, attempting to return some calm to herself. The one Dren had given her a few days ago, his mother's necklace.
Yet another woman crowding in her thoughts. Ayleth wondered what kind of woman Releniah Dren had been. Strict? Kind? Full of laughter? Or sad, chained to a man she did not love? Was Ayleth to follow in Releniah's footsteps?
So many uncertain feelings. Ayleth breathed slowly; she had to do this, and it didn't matter how afraid she was. She couldn't have saved Hides-His-Foot but by the gods she'd save Bitterblade. And that meant a calm, controlled manner.
Dralin clasped the necklace around her neck. The red jewels in gold gleamed, hard and cold around her throat. The last touch was some floral perfume, dabbed at her wrists and the back of her neck.
“You look beautiful,” Dralin assured her.
“Thank you,” Ayleth said, her voice flat and small. Any other time, maybe she’d feel beautiful. All she felt now was hollow.
Tags: @wannabe-nerevar, @velocitross
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How strange she must look, Ku-vastei thought, to these near-naked slaves. Had any of them ever seen an Argonian so spectacularly dressed?
Ku-vastei strolled into the Dren Plantation — in azure silk robes accented with gold trim, shoulders bearing spiked bonemold pauldrons, fingers jangling with enchanted rings, bold ruby amulet hanging from her neck — with all the swagger of a show-guar. Some stopped to gaze with wonder, sure — but most stole brief, dull-eyed glances before carrying on with their tasks — no doubt fearful of their masters' whips. Those Dunmer masters, for their part, either watched slack-jawed or scowled with poorly-disguised rage.
Behind Ku-vastei walked her partner, the mabrigash Ashiri, alongside the Redoran noble and comrade of the Nerevarine, Qismehti gra-Lubakt. Ashiri wore simple Ashlander dress, albeit with glass ornamentation befitting a former wise woman; Qismehti was suited in Gah-Julan bonemold from head-to-toe, her identity mostly concealed by the cowled helmet, her eyes buried behind the thin visor-slit. Ku-vastei had invited her other still-living "friend," Hlaalu noble Llethym Hlaarothan, but he respectfully declined. "Bad optics," he had said, "to confront the Duke's brother alongside a known dissident." So Ku-vastei had shrugged and asked Qismehti instead. She had thought it a fool's errand to ask her of all people, but to Ku-vastei's surprise, Qismehti agreed to come along. Whatever intentions she had for this visit to Orvas Dren, neither the mask of her helmet nor her stoic features beneath would betray.
It was a still-brisk spring morning in the Ascadian Isles. Some strong wind from the Inner Sea ruffled the blooming gold kanets and stoneflowers, and the loose hair of the Dunmer — along with the fur of the Khajiit and the feathers on the Argonians. Yet the cowl on Qismehti's helmet was preternaturally stiff, as if starched.
A gardener furiously whacked at flowers daring to grow within the walkways of the plantation. She was Dunmer; it struck Ku-vastei as odd that a free mer's hands were deemed necessary for such menial work, and not delegated to a slave instead. Orvas, despite his dirty dealings with the Camonna Tong, seemed to obsess over cleanliness — at least where his house and employees were concerned. The slaves were left slovenly and destitute: fur matted, scales dull and peeling, teeth decaying, clothes ragged, huts ramshackle. Only the few housecats had any semblance of decency, and they still paled in comparison to the extravagance of even the poorest Dunmer that they attended to and entertained.
"Where is Orvas?" asked Ashiri, seemingly growing bored of the gawking attention.
"Don't know," replied Ku-vastei. She called out to a nearby Khajiit slave. "Muthsera, where can we find Orvas Dren?"
The Khajiit, a small, frail woman, likely a housecat by her slightly better attire than the others, shrank into herself, tail between her legs. Suddenly, every Dunmer's crimson eyes were on her and the three visitors. The gardener stood and wielded her scissors like a dagger, her glare stabbing to match.
A nearby guard, decked out with ornate ebony armor and a wicked katana of unknown make (yet somehow familiar to Ku-vastei) stepped between Ku-vastei and the Khajiit. "No chatter between slaves. And get rid of those ridiculous clothes, n'wah."
"I am no slave," chided Ku-vastei with an even tone. "I am a free woman. You'll respect me as such."
The guard took a careless step closer to Ku-vastei. "I'll do no such thing, you fetching —!"
Qismehti stepped forward, standing alongside Ku-vastei, hand twitching by the axe hanging from her belt. The guard stopped his advance.
Ku-vastei smirked, revealing her sharp reptilian teeth. "If you think she's scary," she said, voice menacingly low so only the guard could hear, "trust me: I'm scarier. Pray to Azura tonight, if you can. See what she has to say about it."
The corner of the guard's lip curled up, revealing a jeweled incisor, but he said nothing. He locked eyes with Ku-vastei, unable to find Qismehti's behind her helm.
"Galos," called a woman from behind the guard. The gardener appeared over his shoulder. "That's quite enough. We shall treat them as guests, as we would anyone. Won't we?"
Galos did not release his gaze for a long moment, but finally shrugged. "As you wish, Serjo Lluthia." Lluthia, the gardener, gently pushed him aside with a gloved hand.
"Apologies," said Lluthia. She handed Galos her gardening scissors and removed her gloves. "An Argonian in such dress disturbs the peace here, you see. You wish to see my husband?"
"Yes, Mrs. Dren," said Ku-vastei. She refused to use the proper Dunmeris title, opting instead for a generic Cyrodiilic one. She couldn't tell if Lluthia noticed or cared. "We have important matters to discuss concerning his Great House."
"Concerning Hlaalu? May I ask your name?" Lluthia extended a pale-grey, daintily-angled hand.
"Ku-vastei."
Many of the nearby slaves, including the Khajiit woman Ku-vastei had addressed earlier, had averted their eyes when Lluthia approached. But now they looked up at Ku-vastei with curiosity. They knew the name, but most were too young to know why it was important.
Lluthia blinked away surprise. "…Oh. You're the one…You say you're Nerevarine."
"Azura says it. Not me."
"…Very well. You may meet with Orvas. Come with me."
"Serjo," snapped Galos, "you musn't…!"
"She is unarmed. What harm could she do?" Lluthia glanced at Qismehti and Ashiri. "But only you may see him, Ku-vastei. Your friends will stay outside with Galos."
Qismehti crossed her arms, the bonemold bracers scraping against the cuirass. Ashiri opened her mouth to speak, but Ku-vastei waved her off without taking her eyes off of Lluthia. "Very well. Let's go."
Lluthia nodded and whipped around, the white-frilled skirt of her ruffled burgundy dress casting a breeze at Ku-vastei's feet. She began to lead Ku-vastei across the plantation grounds, but stopped shortly after moving. She turned to the Khajiit slave Ku-vastei has addressed earlier. "Ja'krin. Come with us. I'll need you in the manor presently."
Ja'krin — a common name Ku-vastei recognized as meaning "youthful smile" in the Khajiiti tongue — nodded and smiled at Lluthia and Ku-vastei. It was one of the most horrifically forced smiles Ku-vastei had ever seen, the cat-woman's attempt at an elven grin. Whoever named her "Ja'krin" must have had a cruel sense of humor.
"Ja'krin," said Ku-vastei — enunciating as in Ta'agra, not Dunmeris — as she extended a beringed claw. "A pleasure to meet you, muthsera."
If Lluthia hadn't noticed the earlier slight, she caught it now. Her eyes widened wildly, but she stretched her lips into a smile to match.
Ja'krin hesitated, staring at Ku-vastei's hand without moving. She glanced at Lluthia.
"It's quite alright, dear," said Lluthia. "Quite alright." She gave Ku-vastei a brief scathing glare.
Slowly Ja'krin obliged, gently taking Ku-vastei's hand with hers. Her grip was feeble; Ku-vastei returned with a strong squeeze she hoped came off as reassuring.
Lluthia lead Ku-vastei and Ja'krin across the plantation grounds, over the polished cobblestones which were irritatingly cool under Ku-vastei's feet. She watched with rising fire in her chest as Ja'krin walked calmly and evenly, but the erratic jittering of her tail betraying her anxiety.
Lluthia brought them to the largest building in the compound. (Of course, thought Ku-vastei. Likely compensating.) The manor was in typical Hlaalu style, but almost as grand as the most extensive mansion in Balmora — if not grander. The stepped layers of round-cornered squares rose into the sky for three floors. Shaded balconies bore archers protecting their lord with bonemold bows. Two spearmen in ebony guarded the twin front door, which were a few steps off the ground on a short porch under a red cloth awning.
As Lluthia approached, the two helmless Dunmer guards stepped aside for her to pass, but they sneered at Ja'krin and Ku-vastei. How Ja'krin reacted to this (if at all), Ku-vastei didn't see; but for her part, Ku-vastei returned with a wide smile, nearly a snarl.
The heavy imported wood door opened smooth and silent on well-greased hinges as Lluthia turned the knob and pushed. The inside of the manor contrasted the mundane exterior in its extravagance. There was no gold lining the walls, but Daedra-spider-silk tapestries, the work of countless skilled artisans, adorned every surface, recounting tales from the homilies and sermons: stories of Almalexia's mercy, Sotha Sil's wisdom, and Vivec's heroism. Everything that wasn't draped was engraved with scripture in ornate Daedric text.
It took all of Ku-vastei's willpower not to scoff at how ridiculous it all was. Not only the sick religion itself, but also Orvas' claim to such devotion.
Lluthia led Ku-vastei and Ja'krin through the labyrinthian halls and up several steep flights of steps. Ascending one, at the top of the stair, Lluthia nearly collided with a well-dressed Dunmer man.
"Watch where you're going, s'wit," she chided. "Almost knocked me down the stairs."
"'Pologies, serjo," said the Dunmer with a weak, insincere bow. "Who's the lizard? New house slave?"
"None of your concern, Navil."
Navil, thought Ku-vastei. Navil Ienith? She knew there was a high-ranking writ out for his blood with the Morag Tong — for him and his brother, Ranes. Not her writ, so not her problem right now. Besides, they weren't who she was here to see.
"Yes, serjo, sorry, serjo." Navil shrank himself a bit and squeezed past Lluthia on the stairs. But he took up enough space past her to bump into Ku-vastei and Ja'krin behind. Ja'krin swiveled like a ragdoll, but Ku-vastei stood firm against the shove. Navil growled low but said nothing.
They continued up the flight and down a long hall that seemed to stretch forever, with no doors along its length, except for one at the far end. The candles within that chamber were brighter than the entire hallway itself, and Ku-vastei could make out a seated silhouette past the doorway. They crossed the threshold, Ku-vastei close behind Lluthia and Ja'krin.
Orvas sat behind a small tiered desk in the center of the room, scribbling with a ruffled quill on an unseen sheet. A small pair of spectacles extended far down his long nose, near the tip, their set seemingly too narrow for his broad-spaced eyes. His lips were pursed thin, and the lines around his mouth suggested this was a habitual expression. His long, graying black hair was held in a high ponytail by an elaborate yellow woven band embedded with technicolor beads.
Lluthia said nothing, merely standing there with Ku-vastei and Ja'krin, waiting. Orvas finished a line, glanced over the page, then added it to a precarious stack on the upper level of the desk. He slid over another sheet from a lower pile and began to annotate it as well. This went on for several agonizing moments.
Just as Ku-vastei was about to lose her patience, Orvas spoke: "Yes, Lluthia?"
Lluthia stood alongside Ku-vastei, Ja'krin to her other side. "You have a guest."
"I'm busy. Tell them I'll see to them later." Orvas did not look up from his work.
"An important guest."
Orvas finally glanced up over the rim of his glasses. "Ja'krin. Morning. And someone I don't know. Not very important." He lowered his eyes and continued to write.
"Orvas," said Ku-vastei. "I am Ku-vastei."
Orvas sighed and tilted his head to appraise her fully. "You speak without being spoken to. Odd." He clasped his hands over the desk. "Why should I speak to a heretic? Speak quickly. I haven't all day."
"I'm surprised you know how to read and write," said Ku-vastei plainly, "given the average intelligence of your Camonna goons.
Orvas' face betrayed nothing, save for a slight flare of his nostrils. "I'm a traditionalist, not a baffoon. It is a shame I must rely on rural shmucks for my work, but it is nonetheless necessary."
"So you're not totally uneducated," remarked Ku-vastei. "Color me surprised."
"A thorough education in history, theology, and strategy is the mark of a proper Dunmer," replied Orvas. "You wouldn't understand. I know you're naught but an escaped slave from the mainland." He leaned back, hands still clasped. "But you are a warrior, a revolutionary, a woman of principle. That I can respect."
"I don't respect you at all," snapped Ku-vastei.
"I suspected as much." Orvas rose from his seat, but stayed carefully behind his desk. Ku-vastei saw he wore burgundy finery overlaid with a half-plate ebony cuirass. "I also suspect that it matters little. Or else you wouldn't have come unarmed. You're willing to broker a deal.
Ku-vastei said nothing.
Orvas smiled, the outward stretching of his lips unnatural given his usual expression. "A Hlaalu tradition, isn't it? And here I thought you were Telvanni."
"You're not the true face of House Hlaalu," said Ku-vastei.
"Aren't I?" asked Orvas with a derisive chuckle. "Who else is, if not me? Certainly not Curio. A heathen Imperial. Useful, but heathen. Certainly not my dear brother. He knows not to interfere with the Tong — for the betterment of the House, and its bottom line. And certainly not the Hlaarothan thief you call a 'friend.'" He gripped his chin, scratching the loose hairs missed from a poor shave. "What an obnoxious thorn in my side. I should have him killed. What do you think, Ku-vas-tei?" He said her name with an aggressive over-enunciation.
Ku-vastei stepped forward, but hesitated to make her move. "No harm shall come to Llethym."
Orvas ignored her. "Tell me. This war you're trying to fight…do you know what for? What's at stake?"
"Countless lives lost to the Blight."
"No. It is a fight for the very soul of Morrowind, our heritage, our traditions, our culture, of Resdayn reborn in his image —"
Orvas stopped. He'd said too much.
"His?" asked Ku-vastei. It dawned on her. "You're in league with the Dagoths."
Orvas scowled. "They're good customers. And Dagoth Ur has the right of it. We need to get rid of or enslave the other mongrel races before they do the same to us. We have to secure a future for our children. Whatever it takes."
That was all Ku-vastei needed.
She stabbed a claw towards Orvas, bidding Inferno come. A pitch black band on her finger melted and reformed into a weapon, an especially lethal ebon halberd, flecked with fire like blood and menacing with jagged spikes all over. The blade materialized an inch from Orvas' neck; she pushed it the rest of the way for it to nearly cut the scraggle from his neck.
Orvas said nothing, his eyes locked with Ku-vastei's. He tilted his head ever so slightly to gesture towards Ku-vastei's side.
She turned her head slowly, cautiously. Lluthia and Ja'krin stood there — Lluthia behind Ja'krin, dagger point pressed against the soft fur of her neck, behind her collarbone.
"Tsk, tsk," tutted Orvas. "No need for any misunderstandings. If harm befalls me, she dies. And let me clarify something else you've misunderstood. You need me. Alive. In power."
"How? I don't need anyone." But Ku-vastei became more mindful of her weapon's proximity to his jugular, as she stared at Lluthia's silent threat.
"You think my men would simply give up? Forfeit their birthrights — their livelihoods? No. Headless, they'd run wild. You'd set loose a hundred desperate bandit gangs on Vvardenfell — and all with far fewer scruples than I demand from them." He smirked. "Let's be civil. Let's cut a deal. I'll give you the power of the Tong against the Dagoths, so long as you leave my business interests alone."
Ku-vastei scoffed. "Not so keen on working with Dagoth Ur now that your neck's on the line, huh?"
"I'm nothing if not pragmatic. Now put that thing away before someone gets hurt."
Ku-vastei didn't trust this man; she trusted him even less than most Hlaalu. But begrudgingly, she had to admit he had a point. It would be bad for the stability of Vvardenfell during the critical time of the war to come. And she couldn't let the madwoman next to her kill Ja'krin. She bid Inferno return to her finger.
Involuntarily, the halberd ignited and jerked to the side, cleaving Orvas' head from his neck.
Before she could react, Ku-vastei heard the scream from Ja'krin, cut off by gurgling. Ku-vastei snapped her head back from where Orvas' head hit the desk and saw Lluthia, rage plain on her face, dropping Ja'krin's bleeding corpse to the floor and rapidly advancing with the dagger in hand.
Ku-vastei pulled back Inferno and jabbed it through Lluthia's chest, piercing clear through to the other side.
Ku-vastei stopped to take a breath, and breathe in what had just happened. Orvas lay dead, head cleaved from his body; the flaming halberd cauterized his wound, and nary a drop of his blood was spilled. Likewise, Lluthia's open chest was sealed and bloodless. The only blood on the floor was Ja'krin's.
Ku-vastei let go of Inferno, letting Lluthia's body fall to the floor, half-propped up by Inferno's blade behind her. "What have you done?" whispered Ku-vastei.
Taking advantage, replied Inferno. More mortals to kill if we cut off the serpent's head. Like so.
"I didn't want this to happen!" cried Ku-vastei. She stared at the dead grimace of pain and fear in Ja'krin's face, splattered with blood.
Didn't you? You held the blade. Now, pick me up and get going. There's more bodies in this building to claim.
"No," said Ku-vastei, backing away. "We're done. Go back to Oblivion."
Inferno laughed…but not just in Ku-vastei's mind. Each peal of its wicked chuckle came from Lluthia's mouth, pushing out blood from her lips. "We're done when I say we're done. Don't make me subjugate you."
Ku-vastei bared her fangs. "I'd like to see you try. I am not of the slaves that perish."
Lluthia's corpse rose, climbing the haft of Inferno, letting it slide through her chest as she heaved herself to her feet. With just enough haft left to grab protruding from the front of her wound, she grabbed Inferno and ripped it back through, blade flaming. "Pathetic, unarmed machine of meat," she said, her voice mingling with the deep voice of the Daedra, as she wielded the demon halberd with one hand.
Xuth.
Ku-vastei took quick inventory of the other rings on her fingers. Only two struck her as somewhat useful here: a ring of firebite, and a ring of lesser ward.
She called on the latter at the last possible second as Inferno's weapon swung for her head, lifting a magically-shielded hand to guard her skull. The blunt force of the blow slammed the back of her hand into her face, disorienting her. But she had enough sense to blindly spread the shield across her whole body just before another strike came at her torso. That ward, dissipated so thinly, was weak, but her hidden cuirass of Orcish mail under her robes caught the brunt. But it still sent her flying through the open door and down the hall behind her.
Ku-vastei slammed back-first into a glass-doored curio cabinet. The panels shattered, as did the fine plates and knick-knacks inside. Glass shards and ceramic sherds crashed and tinkled to the floor around her like a misophonic symphony. But she wasted no time in clumsily climbing to her feet and setting off around the corner, away from Lluthia and Inferno.
Ku-vastei frantically tried casting a Fleetfoot spell as she heard Lluthia gaining on her — moving much faster than a corpse ought to — but her head was muddled in her rush, and she was out of breath from the last blow. She fumbled with the incantation and gestures as she hobbled away, her spellcasting failing in her fatigued state. (It turns out intricate spellwork can be rather difficult when being chased by a Daedra-possessed corpse.)
Just as Lluthia was almost near enough to swing Inferno again, Ku-vastei finally cast the spell successfully and sprinted off with a burst of speed.
It was another nightmare altogether remembering her way out of the manor. Ku-vastei tried her best not to corner herself as she backtracked through the halls and downstairs to the front door. Alas, she missed the last turn on the ground floor, and Lluthia was hot on her heels, despite Ku-vastei's spell. Ku-vastei ducked into a nearby room and bee-lined for the nearest window. She dove through head-first, shattering the pane and tumbling out into the cobbles of the road outside. She rolled on her side in a bed of broken glass, shredding her robes to reveal her hidden armor.
"Ku!" shouted Ashiri, pushing past Galos to rush to her side. "Are you alright? What happened in there?"
Before Ku-vastei could answer, a wild-eyed Dunmer burst out of the front door, nearly ripping it off its hinges. "Lluthia!" he gasped, clutching tightly at a glass dagger, "Lluthia's gone mad! She…She killed Navil!"
Navil Ienith was the goon they had passed inside earlier. This must be the other Ienith brother, Ranes, thought Ku-vastei numbly as Ashiri helped her to her feet. "Inferno," she muttered. "It's gone rogue. Blasted Daedra." She dusted glass shards off of her robes and winced at her injuries.
"Inferno?" asked Ashiri, her eyes alight with worry. "The halberd?"
"Told you it talked to me," answered Ku-vastei. "It's a Daedra, from Oblivion. It's possessed the Dren bitch's corpse. And killed Orvas."
"Orvas is dead?" cried Galos, drawing his katana. "You'll pay for this, lizard!"
With a decisive chop from behind, Qismehti removed Galos' sword-hand with her axe, its blade sliding neatly between the plates of his ebony armor. The katana clattered to the cobbles, still gripped tight in Galos' fingers.
Galos screamed and fell to his knees, clutching the gushing stump of his wrist like a cradled baby. Qismehti kicked him over and planted her foot on his back. "Anyone else want to attack the Nerevarine?"
Ku-vastei hissed as she narrowly dodged an arrow, and caught another with her magical Shield. "Don't ask that!" she cried at Qismehti, who was now swarmed by guards.
Ashiri lobbed lightning at the archers atop the barracks. "Do you have a spare weapon?"
"No. I came only with Inferno."
As if on cue, Lluthia burst open the half-shut front door behind Ranes, fully taking it off its hinges, and cut the last Ienith brother down with one fell strike.
Ashiri cast a spell and telekinetically grabbed Galos' severed but still-armed hand across the cobblestones, knocking over a handful of guards with the sweep under their feet. It landed near Ku-vastei, who quickly snapped up the weapon. "Now you do," said Ashiri.
Ku-vastei pried Galos' fingers from the grip and discarded the hand. She took a moment to examine the katana. It was of Daedric make, similar in design to Inferno, but decidedly inanimate. She briefly gave its weight and length some consideration with a swing or two. She was more accustomed to lighter, shorter blades — or at least polearms with longer handles. But she would have to make do. She readied the katana awkwardly in both hands.
"You two got the Hlaalu?" shouted Ku-vastei over the din of combat.
"Naturally," replied Ashiri with a smirk as she fried several guards with a chain lightning spell carefully sculpted not to link to Qismehti or nearby slaves caught in the crossfire. The smell of scorched flesh filled the air.
"Then I'll take care of —"
Ku-vastei was cut off by a strike she barely parried with her katana. The blow from Inferno set her off-balance, forcing her to step back a few clumsy steps. She tightened her grip on the sword and made a slow swipe, hoping to catch Lluthia in the thigh. But the possessed woman slammed Inferno's butt into the ground, and the katana smashed into the heft with a horrible screech of demon-metal on demon-metal.
Ku-vastei attempted to recover from that jarring collision to swing vertically, reaching up parallel to Inferno at Lluthia's arm. But Lluthia tilted Inferno to the side at the last minute, smacking Ku-vastei's katana away. There was, though, a small spurt of blood that sprayed into Ku-vastei's arm — a wound.
It inspired Ku-vastei. How do you defeat a woman possessed by a living weapon?
You cut off her arms.
It would be difficult. Inferno's defense was nigh-impenetrable, and Ku-vastei lacked skill with such a long blade. But it fell on her to eliminate this threat; the others were busy with the rest of the plantation.
Ku-vastei raised her sword high, baiting Lluthia. She bit the hook, and thrust Inferno forth towards Ku-vastei's chest. But Ku-vastei dodged to the side, and crashed the blade down on Inferno's haft. She slid the katana across the metal with an evil hiss of sparks towards Lluthia's shoulders and channeled the movement into a vicious strike at her upper arms.
Not vicious enough to sever completely, but still devastating. She managed to chop clear through to the bone of Lluthia's left arm. Not completely removed, but maybe disabled enough to —
Inferno swept sideways, slamming Ku-vastei's ribs with its haft, knocking the wind from her lungs and sending her tumbling to the ground. She rolled away, chest burning, just before Lluthia could drive Inferno's point into her heart, and scrambled to stand again. She caught a glance of Lluthia as she regained her footing — left arm dangling limp, right hand still wielding Inferno with preternatural strength.
Ku-vastei made some space between herself and Lluthia, and fumbled with a pouch on her belt. She retrieved a small glass vial filled with a thick green liquid, and nearly dropped it with her trembling fingers. She chewed off the cork, spat it out, and downed the sweet stuff in a single gulp. But she was careful not to let her eyes off of Lluthia and Inferno. She quickly felt the energy returning to her body, her limbs regaining their agency from her fatigue. It was a fast-acting potion, one she had brewed herself the other day.
She fetched one more vial — this one containing a draught derived from distilled sujamma — and swallowed it too, grimacing at the bitter taste. She tossed both vials on the ground below, shattering them among the other broken glass shards there.
"Okay," she said, confidence surging from the liquor, "let's party." She raised the katana — which now felt light as the daggers she was used to — in the old form she had once taught to her rebel warriors in the Arnesian War: blade held low, nearly perpendicular to her body, level with the ground save for a slight uptilt of the tip towards her opponent.
This Daedric katana was a massive improvement over the sticks and marshmerrow staffs her trainees had used back then. And Ku-vastei was much more skilled in tense combat than she was when she was just a youth biting off more than she could chew.
Her revery was cut short by Lluthia lunging towards her with Inferno, trying to get around her katana's defense. With much less effort, Ku-vastei deflected it, batting the halberd to the side and transferring the energy of the movement into a twist and upward strike at Lluthia's right shoulder. But her strength was almost too great; she pushed Inferno aside, dragging Lluthia with it, and her strike finished lopping off Lluthia's left arm completely. It fell to the ground, lifeless, spurting only the blood that remained in its veins after Inferno had destroyed Lluthia's beating heart inside the manor.
Lluthia returned with a swipe towards Ku-vastei, but she had already recovered her stance, and blocked Inferno's blade with another demonic shudder. But this time, Ku-vastei rolled with the blow, dancing to the side and answering with her own side-swipe, hacking deep into Lluthia's thigh. A small amount of blood splattered onto Ku-vastei's torn robes and Orcish mail as she wrapped around behind Lluthia, and before the Dunmer could turn to face her again, Ku-vastei delivered a final strike at Lluthia's right shoulder, severing her last connection to Inferno, forcing it to thud onto the ground, finally motionless in the dead hand.
Lluthia's corpse finally crumpled completely to the ground, head hitting the cobbles next to the hand holding Inferno.
Ku-vastei let out a gasp of relief, and turned to examine the rest of the scene. Qismehti was prying her axe free from her last victim's skull, and Ashiri had taken a seat nearby to drink a potion to restore her magicka reserves.
"Good job," offered Ku-vastei, still breathless. "Qismehti. See if any of them has a key for the slave bracers." The Redguard warrior nodded, returned her axe to her belt, and began rifling through the belongings of the slain guards. "Ashiri. Come here a moment, when you can."
Ashiri finished off her potion and wiped sweat from her brow. She slowly recorked and pocketed the empty vial, then stood and approached Ku-vastei. "So that's it?" she asked, tilting her head towards the halberd. "Inferno's out of commission?"
As if on cue, the halberd's blade reignited. But it did not speak, neither with Lluthia's voice nor with its own inside Ku-vastei's head.
"Doubt it," said Ku-vastei with a frown. "Some other fool could come across it and become its thrall."
"A fool like you, you mean?"
"Not the time, Ash."
"Very well, dear. What do you propose, then?"
Ku-vastei turned to her partner. "Do you know any spells to banish Daedra?"
"Naturally," answered Ashiri. "A few, actually. Where would you rank this Daedra in terms of power?"
Ku-vastei returned her gaze to the flaming Inferno. "Middling," she scoffed. "But use a powerful spell, just in case."
"This might take a long ritual, then."
"We have time. We need to liberate the slaves, anyway."
Ku-vastei and Qismehti set about gathering the Dren slaves together (away from the piles of their masters' corpses) and unlocking their shackles while Ashiri created the ritual circle. Ku-vastei was too anxious to have anyone move it, even by telekinesis, so they left it where it had fallen — but they did remove Lluthia Dren's corpse from the scene to purify the ritual site. Ku-vastei "borrowed" a couple of wagons used for transporting netch leather from the ranch and loaded up the freed slaves, ready to send them off to the Argonian Mission in Ebonheart en masse for sanctuary. It would cause Im-Kilaya no small amount of consternation to find lodging for the twenty-odd Khajiit and Argonians while their new citizenship papers were processed, but Ku-vastei had dirt on him, and Im-Kilaya knew it. He'd do what she asked to save his own scales.
Once preparations were complete, the ritual itself was uneventful, albeit a bit ostentatious. Ashiri chanted the incantations necessary, and Ku-vastei watched as Inferno dissolved into vapor and faded into Oblivion. All that was left behind was Stormforge — tarnished. Ku-vastei didn't know Dwemer metal could tarnish. It was certainly worthless now. She left it where it lay.
As Ashiri finished up clearing up the ritual site, Ku-vastei said, "You and Qismehti go on ahead to Ebonheart. I'll catch up with you later."
"Why?" asked Ashiri. "We don't know Im-Kilaya as you do."
"I'll be there when you need me, by Divine Intervention. I have an amulet for that."
Ashiri rolled her eyes. "You seem to have an amulet for everything. Just learn the actual spell." She crossed her arms. "But you didn't answer my question."
Ku-vastei raised her right hand and stared at it. No more blood stained it — they had washed in the river earlier while tending to the slaves. But there was blood on her hands, no matter who was to blame. She shivered.
Ashiri noticed and laid a careful hand on Ku-vastei's arm. "Are you alright?"
"I have one more thing to attend to here," Ku-vastei said, shaking off Ashiri's touch and looking away. "I'll meet with you two later. Go."
"…Alright. Love you."
"Love you too."
Ku-vastei stared at the slave-laden backs of the guar-pulled wagons led by Qismehti and Ashiri until they were out of sight. Then she returned to the Dren manor.
She didn't remember the way to Orvas' study, and since nothing living resided here anymore, her Detect Life spell wouldn't have helped. So she picked her way from hall to hall, room to room, until she found it. Ja'krin's blood was dry now, a black sea on the floor. Orvas' body slumped over the desk, his head laying on its side, peeking around the corner of the desk at Ja'krin's corpse.
Ku-vastei heaved. She covered her mouth and ran out of the room.
She hadn't felt anything like this since Malcius died. But this was her fault, even if Inferno forced her hand. If she hadn't killed Orvas, Ja'krin would have survived like the other slaves.
Malcius wasn't her fault, of course. But it occurred to her that deep within her heart, she blamed herself for surviving while he did not. She wanted to go back to the swamp and wallow for months again just thinking about it.
Slowly, with great effort, Ku-vastei returned to the crime scene. With slow and shaky breaths, she slowly lifted Ja'krin up and over her shoulder, and carried her outside.
There was little free wood here. So she grabbed one of the guard's axes and set about dismantling one of the slave shacks. It was grueling work, and it took her hours to disassemble it plank by plank. It was nearly night by the time she had gathered enough wood for the pyre.
She carried Ja'krin down to the river dock, wrapped her in canvas, and laid her in one of the canoes there. Then she piled wood atop her body, careful not to injure her corpse in any way. She untied the boat from its mooring, and before it began to sail away, she laid her hand atop the pyre, and used her ring of firebite to ignite it.
She watched it drift down the river, smoke and flame rising into the night sky, obscuring Masser and Secunda as they rose, until it descended under the horizon. And then she sat there a while more. She didn't teleport to Ebonheart until she bitter chill of the night began to pierce her bones.
not tagging anyone bc im late but if you have a fun wip to share this saturday, feel free!
"This war you're trying to fight…do you know what for? What's at stake?"
"Countless lives lost to the Blight."
"No. It is a fight for the very soul of Morrowind, our heritage, our traditions, our culture, of Resdayn reborn in his image —"
Orvas stopped. He'd said too much.
"His?" asked Ku-vastei. It dawned on her. "You're in league with the Dagoths."
Orvas scowled. "They're good customers. And Dagoth Ur has the right of it. We need to get rid of or enslave the other mongrel races before they do the same to us. We have to secure a future for our children. Whatever it takes."
That was all Ku-vastei needed.
She sat there for hours, examining each memory of them together, turning them over and over in her mind. At some point she must have fallen asleep, because she awoke to the bedroom door shutting.
And there Orvas was. Her husband, her monster.
What Loving You Cost Me (Orvas Dren/OC) by @the-twilight-queen
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the
Organization for Transformative Works
"Now, what have we learned?"
Haj-deek took a deep breath.
"The spear is not a weapon--" and then, correcting herself, "The spear is not only a weapon. It is...an extension of my body and will. With it, I can both bring order and sow chaos. It is not an evil thing but in the hand of one meaning to do ill, it can become a symbol of evil."
"Very good," Vivec said, "A thing on its own is not evil. But imbued with and surrounded by it, it cannot help but become so. Good and evil leave their echoes upon mind and object alike."
Haj-deek had, as she'd had many times over the past weeks, a distinct feeling that Vivec was trying to say more than he was saying. Most of his lessons were like that, presented as one thing and coated in two more. Knowledge she'd take in and then unwrap to discover something else at the core...usually while eating or doing something else.
This, he said, was why he tried not to impart very much each day. "Wisdom takes thought, and thought takes time."
(Sometimes she was unsure how serious he was about things. Was he trying to be thorough in his teaching, or was he jerking her around? Maybe it was a combination of both...that thing he had given her, too, they did not speak of. He'd said she'd know when to use it, but how could he be certain of it?)
Weapon training was almost easy by comparison. She did best with her fists, but Vivec insisted on her becoming familiar with the spear and longsword as well. Her fists and a dagger were hardly enough, considering her lack of ability to maintain her own magicka. Alchemy could only carry her so far.
"Is that why you were able to...kill Nerevar?"
Such questions were ones Haj-Deek only ever asked when she was certain she was alone with Vivec.
Vivec was silent for a moment.
"Nerevar was grief-stricken," he said, "And so comforted by his queen, he did not notice my approach."
"So the story of robes and candles some of the books talk of...?"
"We made that part up ourselves. Consider in the future, if you are in a situation which may yield conspiracy theories and lurid accusations, it is good to have a hand in crafting at least one of them yourself."
Haj-deek thought for a moment before nodding.
"He intended fully to pray to Azura to gain some wisdom, and it seemed a likely enough thing to happen had I not..."
Her father's name almost slipped her lips at that point, but it didn't feel right to say the word.
"I remember hearing him say...Azura abandoned...me...us...whatever this is. When you'd all proceeded to the Heart, I mean."
"That is the very thing that I intended not to be," Vivec replied, "The sort of god who abandons those who need him most."
"And it worked...for a long time. But V...my father woke up."
"I think it would be best not to speak those words just yet. That he is what he is to you. But...yes. It did work. Regrettably we could not stop Tiber Septim, but...let me let you in on a secret of my own. We never thought that using the Numidium would go so well for him. It had a tendency to...well...kill those who used it."
"And cause dragon breaks."
"Dragon breaks. Laziness, more like." Vivec huffed, in a very ungodly way, "What an excuse."
"Laziness? Excuse?"
He suddenly sat up straight, and pivoted. "Do you feel ready to begin the trials of the Nerevarine?"
"I'm not sure I ever will," Haj-deek gave up on the subject as clearly Vivec wouldn't respond and settled for saying quietly, "But I guess I shouldn't waste too much time. Not that the training you give is wasting my time! It's just...."
"A reasonable point of view. Though I do wonder how long you would choose to stay, despite my...eccentricities."
"I don't know if I want to go north to the tribes just yet, or Red Mountain either, but...maybe there might be something else for me to do first."
Vivec seemed to brighten at that.
"Correct. To go to Red Mountain now would be disastrous...but I need not go on about that, you are bright enough to know the reasons even if your youth tells you that you may overcome them."
"So is there anything I might do first?" She wanted to leave the city for a little while, put to use these fighting skills Vivec had insisted she train herself in. What was the point of learning to fight if she wasn't going to actually fight anything?
"You can go to Tel Fyr," he replied, after a minute or so of consideration, "Your blood may be of interest to Divath Fyr - he is studying corprus, you see, and you are the first person to be born with it. And since you are clearly immune - he will want to study you."
"I don't want to be STUDIED!" Haj-deek burst out, "I'm not a test subject!"
"If you would let me finish--"
"No, I don't think I will. I'm not going to go get blood taken and...and who knows what else."
Vivec's face sunk into his palm for a moment. "Unfortunately he is the premier expert on corprus. I'm not asking you to take up residence in his tower. The opposite, actually. I want to see if your immunity may be passed on to others, and the only one who has the expertise to gauge that sort of thing is Divath Fyr. And...there's something else."
"What?"
"You wish to...correct certain things, yes?"
"...yes." She spoke with some hesitation, unsure of what he was getting at.
"Speak to the dwarf," Vivec replied, and noting the presence of someone in the far corner, lowered his voice as he went on, "In his corprusarium, the bowels of his tower, Divath Fyr tends the last living dwemer. This dwarf is...was...familiar with certain relations of yours. Go to Divath Fyr with the story that you are immune to corprus, and speak in secret to the dwarf."
"And you think that will help?"
"It is a lead. And the trip will be an excellent way to test the training you have received so far."
Haj-deek huffed slightly. The idea was a good one, and she hated having to admit it. Something of Nerevar kicked about in her head. Or maybe it was her own thoughts, or a combination of the two, or--regardless, she felt something, and that something was a grudging admission that Vivec was right. And he hated to think it.
"Fine," she replied, "I'll go."
"Excellent." Vivec brought his hands together, and when they saw the visitor was in fact Archcanon Saryoni come to ask some sort of question, he added, "Then go, with my blessing."
-----------------------
It had not been terribly difficult, getting along in Vivec City. Certainly she had to mind her manners around the Ordinators, but Haj-deek felt a lifetime of holding her tongue and making nice in Ebonheart had prepared her very well indeed for the problem. She found herself doing little chores for the Temple - to soften them towards her, Vivec said. Privately she knew it was to establish a sort of cover for her among Temple faithful - see, the Nerevarine is a devotee! See her dedication to the Tribunal!
At the same time...
...it'll get back to HIM, and that'll make anything I want to do...harder than it already is...
He wouldn't give the time of day to someone dedicated to the Tribunal. She would be lucky to even get in the door.
After getting supplies together, she found herself needing to duck the same sleeper as had greeted her on arrival to the city. Haj-deek moved toward the Hlaalu Canton - and on rounding one of its corners tried to back away instantly on sight of who was walking along the opposite side.
Orvas Dren, flanked by a couple of his Camonna Tong guards, was walking down the pathway. He saw her immediately, and though momentarily surprised made right for her.
"And what might you be doing here? Did the lizards put you out now that you are old enough to shift for yourself?"
"No," Haj-deek crossed her arms, "Better odds of getting work here that doesn't...well, they don't really know about the--the argonians here, and that hindered me in--"
Orvas's eyes traveled ever so slightly down and for a moment Haj-deek had the uncomfortable feeling he was ogling her - until she realized the hand with the moon-and-star was frontmost and the ring itself was clearly visible. She saw his expression shifting in the time she watched his face - confusion, anger, thinking, then a sink back into his usual bland interest.
"Well, well, well, little Haj-deek, wearing the moon-and-star. But, that being the case," his tone darkened, "I should think you would be smarter than to put yourself under the Tribunal's power."
"I didn't have much of a choice," she replied quickly, "I left Ebonheart and one of the ordinators all but herded me into the city. Lord Vivec - ah - wants to direct me himself, I think."
"Of course he would." Orvas huffed, "I imagine he will have you locked away in Baar Dau before too much longer has passed...re-education, that is his aim with most who dare to disobey his direction. You're fortunate I was in the city on business."
Haj-deek played along, and lied, "He's been training me, so I've had to pretend I actually want to be here. Around him. It's not that I believe what he says."
She wasn't sure how to phrase this, and from the way she saw Orvas's face working she felt she'd already tripped up.
"Well, you've always been intelligent in that way, you're quick minded. Learning the ways to fit in among those who don't have your best interests at heart. But there is something I'm curious about."
"What's that?"
"The ring. Did you already have it in Ebonheart? If you had gone to some forsaken place in a long pilgrimage to get it I'm certain you would have a different look about you. Sleep deprivation is a close bedfellow with anyone who takes a long journey and you look as if you have never been deprived of rest a day in your life."
"Well, I--"
"Perhaps you found it somewhere? Lifted it from the lizards who knew not what it means? Or you--"
"It was my mother's--" Haj-deek burst out and shut her mouth the next instant. Her eyes widened. he realized her mistake almost immediately, but definitely too late.
"Your mother's?"
Orvas's face went through a shifting series of expressions again. Surprise, thoughtfulness, and then focus as he went on, "The ring belonged to your mother? So she was the previous Nerevarine?"
The wheels were turning. He was working something out, she could see it from the way his eyes darted back and forth at nothing, but what?
"I--yes. Please, I have to get going," Haj-deek went on, "I'm...on my way to see Divath Fyr. A way of--proving my identity, you know, since I've--"
There was something sharp in Orvas's expression then, and another look like he was thinking deeply, or as deeply as one could when trying to be quick. "You've always been a healthy child. Go. Speak to your Telvanni wizard. But do remember I always have need for someone of your talents."
Orvas gave her an ironical sort of bow and an accompanying smirk then. He'd gotten enough out of her and it seemed to satisfy him, but why she couldn't figure out. She was too eager to get on, and hurried past him to finally exit Vivec City.
-----------------------------
Besides the expected attacks from wild cliffracers (Sunchaser had to be healed up from several, while trying to defend her) and other dangerous Vvardenfell fauna, and sneaking by various hideouts and caves, Haj-deek had only one incident of particular note on the five-day journey she took to Tel Fyr.
While passing Dren Plantation, she happened to pass an Argonian slave who promptly dropped one of the apparently heavy sacks he was carrying. When she stopped to help he thanked her and introduced himself as Hides-His-Foot, and she returned with her own name, which surprised him, but he said nothing more until she spoke up.
"I am sorry to see you in chains," she replied, "I would free you, if you could but tell me--"
It is our duty, Im-Kilaya's words, frequently spoken to her as a young child, echoed again in her head, To help those still shackled by slavery, in whatever way we can.
"Go free?" Hides-His-Foot shook his head emphatically, "No, I am old and could not make it on my own."
He would say no more to her, and as she watched him go she told herself she would be back. He couldn't go now, and where would she take him, anyway? Perhaps if she freed a few slaves during her journey some of the other Twin Lamps members might trust her enough to tell her where she could take older slaves like Hides-His-Foot.
The sea breeze persisted as she passed Telasero, and even at Molag Mar where she sold a bundle of cliffracer plumes for more food and to repair her spear and dagger, as well as buy a lengthy hooded cloak . She glanced only briefly at the slave market, hearing again what Im-Kilaya had said.
I will be back for you. All of you. I swear it, she thought. If I'm Lord Nerevar returned I can do whatever in oblivion I want, and what I want is the slaves freed.
(There was a tug in her chest, and whether it was Nerevar or the Hist she couldn't be sure. But something was definitely pleased by her declaration.
It was a struggle to make herself move on, but she managed it.
----------------------------
Haj-deek turned north, and the land began to darken along with the animals. Past the Maesa-Shammus egg mine, a blight storm started to kick up, and Sunchaser wedged herself beneath the cloak to hide from the ashy winds, her beaked face protruding from the hood beside Haj-deek's, her usual high-pitched calls now completely silent as her wings hugged at shoulders. When the blighted kagouti and cliffracers began to appear she wouldn't emerge to help in the fight, merely tremble and kept her head down as if to avoid seeing them at all.
"It's alright, it's fine," she said, reaching up to try and pat at the beak by her ear, "I've got you."
If not for the map she'd have gotten entirely lost, and for a stretch she was afraid she had, but on having to hide from a couple passing Ashlanders Haj-deek realized the gathering of Dunmer she could dimly see through the red winds was the Erabinemsun camp.
Okay, so I'm close. Good. Good.
Her feet hurt, ash was everywhere, and she was ducking ashlander hunters but at least she was nearly to Tel Fyr. That was something.
Finally, she hit the shoreline. Thankfully, just as the blight storm was beginning to let up--and not wanting to waste the magicka, she removed the cloak, shoved it into one of her bags. After, of course, making sure there weren't any ashlanders watching her back or hiding nearby.
Sunchaser complained, but Haj-deek shrugged the cliffracer off. "Come on, I have to get in the water, you can fly that far."
She had learned to swim so early she couldn't fully remember when it had happened, and was almost pleased to dive into the water, even with the bags weighing her down and messing with her pace.
It was half an hour later that a waterlogged Haj-deek made it to the front door of Tel Fyr. She ducked behind a rock and changed from her damp armor into the darker clothes that still smelled faintly of skooma. Once she was changed Sunchaser took her perch up once again, and they entered the tower.
Five days, she thought, five days it had taken her, and finally she was here.
Haj-deek was greeted by a Dunmer woman who said, "Are you here to plunder the dungeon? Have you got corprus disease? Did you want to talk to Divayth Fyr?"
"No, sort of, and yes," Haj-deek answered all of her questions, and on receiving a strange look she went on with, "I didn't even know there were dungeons here. And I do have corprus, but I...don't, at the same time."
She lifted her right hand to show the moon-and-star, and said, "I'm the--newest Nerevarine."
"I see. Well. You'll be wanting to see Lord Fyr, then."
"I was told I should offer some blood," Haj-deek replied, shifting uncomfortably, "I hope he's not going to ask for any."
"I doubt he will bleed you like a vampire, but I won't tell you that he won't. He does surprise people now and then."
"He's up there, then?" Haj-deek gestured to the hole in the ceiling, and the dunmer woman nodded.
"I hope you know how to levitate, or you shan't be able to see him."
"Oh, I know, I just don't like to use the spell if I can help it. We Atronach signs have to be careful with our magicka supply, miss...?"
"Beyte Fyr," the woman replied.
"Nice to meet you, then. I'm...Haj-deek."
She cast the levitate spell and moved up, stumbling about lost for only a minute or so before literally running into Divath Fyr. She stumbled back, groaning in pain, and apologized quickly, "I'm so sorry, Lord Fyr, I--I'm not familiar with your tower."
Divath Fyr was fairly tall, and now she could see why it had hurt to run into him. He was wearing a full set of daedric armor - she'd only ever seen it in art! It was hard to imagine that it existed at all, given how rare it seemed to be. After allowing her a bit of gawking, he spoke up.
"Well! What a pleasure! A visitor! An entertaining diversion!"
It was more cheery than she expected, and it stunned her that Divath Fyr was that overtly friendly.
"Come to consult the great Divayth Fyr? You have the divine disease?" He seemed perfectly at ease, and all she could think was she was missing something. Telvanni weren't this friendly to outsiders, this wasn't how things worked.
"Well--well, yes...and no."
Divath's head tilted just slightly to one side. "I don't imagine you've come here before, which is the only way I've ever seen someone cured."
"No, I haven't," she replied, "That--that person you talk of, that you cured. That was my mother...and I guess I've inherited her immunity."
The wizard (she hesitated to think him one, with such armor on his person) leaned down a bit, and stared her directly in the eye, completely ignoring Sunchaser's fixing one of her eyes on him in turn. "You've no sores? No rashes, no memory loss, no strange intrusive thoughts?"
Haj-deek took a step back, a little unnerved by the stare Divath was giving her. "No. I've had the dreams, but...nothing more. No sores, no rashes, nothing. I've never even had so much as a sniffle."
"Strange...very strange. Of course I've heard of mothers passing their resistances to certain diseases, but corprus...this..."
"Lord Vivec suggested," she went on, hesitating to speak, "That I might give you a sample of my blood."
It was a disgusting idea, and she still would rather do anything but.
"An agreeable idea..." Divath seemed to be thinking on something, and went silent.
"I'm not cutting my hand if I can help it," she started quickly, "Even if it's just a trifling sort of cut and I don't lose much blood--"
"Oh, there's no need for that. You thought I take blood by way of a dagger? Unrefined, that. Inclined to infection...not that you would need to worry about that, but it is a concern for the rest of my patients. No, there's a tool I've invented that makes drawing blood much easier, and safer for the would-be donor. I simply stick a vein, and let your body pulse out the blood all on its own. Then heal it as you please. For my patients, I...install a permanent one, which makes studying their blood much easier."
"That's--" The idea of being bled was still gross, but the idea of not having to cut her finger like she was doing some sort of secret vow made it just a little bit less so. "I'll want to see how it works before I let you do anything, though."
"My oldest patient, he'll have a set of them handy. I've some things to tend to up here - you go and fetch the blood-drawing tools from him in the corprusarium, and I'll be more than happy to display how they work. But I warn you - do not attack my patients. They're mostly passive but some may attack you."
"I have a pet cliffracer," Haj-deek said, "There's nothing they can do to me that cliffracers haven't done worse."
That prompted a laugh. "Ah, to be young and arrogant again. Go on then, off with you. You've presented me with a very interesting prospect and I want to prepare for what I'm to see in your blood. Or not see."
Haj-deek moved off quickly, not really understand most of what he said next.
----------------------------------
The first person she met was the so-called "Warden" Vistha-Kai, an argonian.
"Ruheeva," she said speaking first the Jel greeting for a stranger, "I'm not a new patient, but...Divath Fyr says I have to talk to his 'oldest patient' to collect some blood-drawing tools. Which of them would that be?"
"You want the dwemer," Vistha-Kai said, "You cannot mistake him for anyone else. Yagrum Bagarn is his name, and he is in the bowels of the Corprusarium. Pass through the gate and go straight across to the next door. He rides in a four-legged cart. He's not as dangerous as the other corprus victims. I doubt he'll give you any trouble."
"Thank you." She paused, took a deep breath, and then looked up to Sunchaser. "Stay here. I don't want you getting in trouble for attacking them."
Sunchaser gave one of her cries.
"No. You could get hurt, and I--I don't want that to happen. Stay here." She reached up to gently tug the cliffracer forward, and set her down on the ground. Then she pulled out a chunk of dried fish she'd been carrying in one of the bags. "Here. Eat."
She looked up to Vistha-Kai.
"If you can help it..."
"You do not want her attacked. You need not worry, I believe we understand each other. Though...I would not tarry in speaking to Yagrum Bagarn, if you can avoid it. These are devilish, temperamental beasts at the best of times."
"I've had to fight so many on my way here, I can't say you're wrong." Haj-deek gave a brief laugh, and stepped through the door. She readied a healing spell, in preparation for the corprus patients. As she walked ahead, she saw one at the end of a stony corridor--and it made straight for her. She ducked off to the side of the path, waiting, ready to bolt past it once it got close enough.
But it didn't attack her.
The thing before her, enormously bloated and half-limping, dragging the more swelled of its two legs with a great effort--it stopped short of where she intended to let it get.
And just stared, groaning as it swayed in place. Its eyes focused on her but she felt something more from it - pain. It, no, HE, was in pain. But given the horrible state of his corprus infection, it only made sense.
Are you sure you want to make the attempt, if this is what he does? The thought drifted across her mind, whether hers or someone else's she wasn't sure. It was uncomfortable to the extreme. You want a father. They don't want to be like this. Kill him, and let them receive the only mercy they are now capable of accepting. Let their suffering end.
She shuffled around, but the corprus victim turned to keep his gaze locked on her. She half-expected it to chase after her, but it didn't, merely stood in place.
The next she encountered did nearly the same thing, with some difference. This victim was smaller, or at least not as bloated with corprus as the first had been, but he stared at her as she passed him just as the first one had. It seemed to shake, and then groan in some unseen agony. A moment later it coughed--sending a wretched looking (and smelling) black fluid from its mouth. She stopped--
It groaned, and lurched forward, clumsily grabbing at her, and she ran off before it could close a hand around anything. It wasn't until she rounded the next couple of corners that she realized she'd gotten turned around and had made a whole loop right back to where she was.
Another turn, ahead to the (correct) door this time, another set of victims, another set of sick eyes that fixed too keenly on her. It was almost worse than them attacking her, to have them simply watch. What was happening?
This is what he has done. He thinks it is helping them? He thinks this a gift? How can he not SEE?
Haj-deek wondered if her mother had thought the same thing.
On passing another corprus victim she thought, I have to make him see.
The absurdity of it made her laugh. Blood or not, who could make him do anything he didn't want to? For a moment she despaired of the thought - what made her think she could do anything about this? If her mother couldn't change his mind, how could she expect her own effort to be any different? And she hadn't even SEEN the man yet!
She saw another Dunmer woman, who seemed to take notice of her but said nothing as Haj-deek approached.
"Voryn?"
The voice was thick, muddled, like someone with a terrible cold or a tongue too thick but it was distinctly male.
"You're new here, aren't you?" the dunmer woman spoke, "My name is Uupse..."
"I'm here to see Yagrum Bagarn," she said quickly, "I...I was told Divath Fyr wanted to sample my blood, and that this...dwemer had the...the tools to get it out of me without injury."
She felt entirely wrong here, out of place. Everything felt sick here, even the air.
A heavy tk tk tk sounded off, and from out of the corner of her eye she saw a shadowed figure moving.
"No...my mind is playing tricks on me again...my weak eyes..."
Before her now appeared Yagrum Bagarn, bloated with corprus and entirely situated within what looked more like a contraption to give him spider's legs than anything else.
He stared at her, as the others had, but he had words to go along with the motion.
"I'm sorry, I thought for a moment you were someone else."
"You thought I was Voryn?"
Her father's name. Yes. And this dwemer, riddled with corprus, his mind blighted as all hell, had picked her face out just as Vivec had warned her might happen. Perhaps ten people in Morrowind that knew her face--her father's face.
"The resemblance is extraordinary," he said as he squinted at her, "Truly, I thought you...well. I heard you say you're here for the blood-collecting tools. I've got them here somewhere...Uupse. I hate to ask, but could I...have dinner a little earlier? I'll want to ask how this turns out with Divath Fyr and I know once I start speaking to him it'll last half the night and I won't want to eat."
Uupse nodded, and then looked to Haj-deek. "You--if you harm him, you will have ME to deal with."
"I won't!" she burst out, "I swear, I won't."
Uupse gave her a suspicious look, but moved away. Not until she was firmly out of earshot did Haj-deek speak to Yagrum again. And too eager for answers, she couldn't help but ask the most burning question in her mind at the moment.
"You knew my father?"
"Your FATHER!" Yagram burst out, and devolved very quickly into a fit of coughs that lasted a minute or two. "Now I know my senses fail me! Voryn has no--never had any children! And never a chance to do it, either!"
But after squinting at her a bit longer, his suspicion cleared.
"I suppose I MUST believe you," he said, "For that face - it is uncanny, how closely you resemble him. But I warn you, it is best not to spread such information around. You think those with corprus are treated poorly outside of Tel Fyr? You have seen nothing of what they would do to a natural daughter of one who blighted the land with the disease to begin with. Why are you really here, young one?"
"To see if there might be a way to..." Haj-deek gulped slightly, "To save him. Vivec said you knew him...well...before..."
"That I did. He was the first friend I ever made, your father. Brilliant man. Is that why you come to me? You want me to speak of him so you might know the man you will fell?"
"No, no, I--" she worked quickly, stumbling over nearly every word as if something were holding her back, "I--I want to--if it's possible, I want to fix him. Help him."
Another laugh. Another hacking cough.
"Excuse the laughter. How very like a Dagoth to tackle the impossible! But if anyone can help you, I can. Whatever you think you may get out of this..."
Dragging ourselves through the week through the chaos <3
I've been ill but writing has been a balm! I'm gonna share a few snippets with you.
Was tagged by @thana-topsy (HUGE HUGS! Aiden and Sarel are adorable and you DID IT. You did the thing!) and @kookaburra1701 (I'm still waiting on Book 32 of your fic universe, and will cheer until its ready!)
Tagging especially @changelingsandothernonsense for the Sad Wars which have produced amazing content as of lately from me, for being writing exercises hehe. Not to brag, I'm just really fond of the work! And of course the amazing @paraparadigm, @thequeenofthewinter, @snippetsrus, @wildhexe, @nuwanders, @oblivions-dawn, @miraakulous-cloud-district, @throughtrialbyfire, @expended-sleeper, @inquisition-dragonborn @archangelsunited, @dirty-bosmer, @viss-and-pinegar, @ladytanithia, @polypolymorph, @gilgamish, @tallmatcha, @rainpebble3, @late-nite-scholar, @greyborn2, @saltymaplesyrup, @orfeoarte, and YOU. Because yes. You are tagged. Tag me back if you have stuff to share! I love to see it.
Below I have a few samples from some WIPs! I'll start with World, as I'm restructuring chapter 31 <3
This selection is long, too! 1,050 words, below the cut!
1) The World on Our Shoulders, Chapter 31
Athis's POV as he goes through Northwatch Keep to save Thorald. 219 words.
Still, there was something unsettling about how unnaturally quiet this part of the keep was. The hairs on the back of Athis’s neck stood up, some instinct he couldn’t place screaming of danger. Something was wrong. He’d felt this way once, years ago, before a bear charged out of the woods that time his hip had been shattered. He’d almost died, then, if it hadn’t been for Farkas and that priest out of Falkreath. Odd, that, as it was a priest of Arkay. The irony wasn’t lost on him. Now, however, was not the time to lose focus.
Athis pressed against the wall that lead out of the twisting passageways into a room that looked, from what he could tell, like some kind of torture chamber. Only, the air rippled with some kind of magic that felt like static on his skin the closer he crept. He remembered how it felt when Nyenna used certain spells nearby; this one didn’t feel like anything he could recall, and that didn’t bode well. None of it did, if he was being honest. He got the sudden notion that perhaps it wasn’t worth all the trouble — that Thorald might already be dead. But no. If there was the slightest chance that he was still alive, Athis couldn’t leave him here. He wouldn’t.
2) Storms Like This
A secret WIP I'll be editing and finishing soon for a friend. 266 words.
He’d thought back to one of his favorite memories of her, besides their wedding. Before they’d decided to adopt and start a family, they were living comfortably in Proudspire Manor in Solitude. He’d been overwhelmed at first by the city he’d only ever passed through before. Living in it meant becoming entangled in the political nonsense, which Sigyn seemed to take in stride. She’d come home, fancy clothes thoroughly drenched from the rain after being gone a particularly long time on what was supposed to be a local errand, and deposited an old hip bone into a chest by the door. Unnerving, sure, but not too atypical for her.
She took him by the hand and dragged him out into the storm, onto their back porch, all while Jordis silently judged them both from her perch at the kitchen table. Sigyn had said nothing, only smiled as he’d exclaimed from the cold downpour the further she led him outside, but then, even over the thunder, he’d heard it—the Bard’s College, practicing for the Burning of King Olaf, bright and clear, almost enhanced by the storm, music reverberating through the very stones of the building next door. They danced together, on their porch, regardless of the weather. It was if, for a moment, the entire world consisted of only them. She’d laughed even as their sodden hair clung to their faces, and as water ran freely into their eyes. [He] knew then, despite all of her chaos, he would follow her absolutely anywhere for as long as he lived.
Storms like this always reminded him of her.
3) Fragment - part of The Bitter, Bitter End (Unpublished as of yet.)
Featuring Nevena Ules as the POV and Orvas Dren. (Yeah. Ew.) 209 words.
Orvas was leaning over the stone parapets, looking down into the courtyard where regular people milled around on business relating to Vedam’s gathering. The moons shone overhead and, besides the noise of the crowds and bards inside, all was silent. She cleared her throat, and Orvas turned to her. He smirked—the same sarcastic look he’d won her heart with when they were younger and under far less pressure—and closed the distance between them.
His eyes, blood red in this light, held storms. She knew what had been worrying him, but she was trying hard to ignore that part, until it was safe to talk about it. Vedam’s overreaching included parlaying with the Empire and solidifying trade between Morrowind and other provinces. Only, there would be an embargo if the Blight situation got worse—which it already was, by the day. And if all of that work was so new, the newfound strength of House Dren would be the first to collapse. Orvas had said as much, and had been bringing it up in their conversations more often as of late, because Vedam wouldn’t see reason. He thought he could see a solution, but even thought of it scared her.
He wanted to ally the Camonna Tong with the Sixth House.
4) Fragment - part of It's Always Darkest Before the Dawn (Unpublished as of yet.)
This one is is Danger!Bean Varlais's POV. 353 words.
Varlais never felt like he belonged anywhere in particular, to be fair. His parents had been elevated slightly after a few turns of events when they’d moved with Ondolemar’s family to Skyrim. That was, technically, his doing, all those years ago, but they were still othered by most Altmer of any rank, Thalmor or not. It was complex, of course, and he didn’t have the energy to parse it all. He’d leave that to Ondolemar, who seemed like he could hold every political detail in his head, as if his mind was some kind of tome.
All he knew was it had to do with the Ayleid ancestry that refused to fade into the background for his family, no matter how many generations. Aerissa, at least, never looked down at him for the blue eyes, thank Auri-El, but she was back in Alinor now, doing clerical work for the Thalmor. And, of course, he was stuck here. But at least, if he was here, he could try and save her from them. No matter how badly he missed her, he’d keep fighting. Before she became a thrall, well, she’d always stuck by him. He looked down at his ring, the gold band glimmering with a faint enchantment, the metal worn and scratched. Somehow, likely by Mara’s direct intervention, he’d not lost the thing, nor had it torn through his skin and bone in some horrifying way. He touched the edge of his left ear where he’d lost an earring that way, and was grateful at least in that moment, his magic worked to stanch the bleeding.
As of late, he’d been feeling even more unmoored than usual, despite Ondolemar’s best efforts—the man was seventeen different kinds of distracted, after all. They were and always had been close as brothers, but with so much changing and hanging in the balance, Ondolemar had to focus on the plan. They had a goal, after all, as impossible as it all seemed. The Civil War and the Dragons were mucking up pretty much everything. Varlais also tended to make himself a problem, though never intentionally. Not really.
"You want peace? Like the peace of the grave we've had since the Tribunal betrayed us and signed the Armistice? Dagoth Ur has made me a better offer. The Sixth House will rise again and crush the Empire and those smug hypocrites in the Tribunal. But enough talk. I know you now as my enemy, and you must die with the rest of the foreign devils."
