In the dim light of the drafty, musty room, the slender Ebony Blade seemed to glow with some sinister, otherworldly glow.
Black as night, yet somehow bright enough to stand out, it saturated the air with dark, heavy magicka.
The Dragonborn scowled at it.
It wasn't the first time she'd seen it.
It probably wouldn't be the last time she'd see it, either.
Mephala's unsettlingly delightful voice had just stopped blathering on about the blade, the power of deception, and webs.
Her usual fare.
The Dragonborn stepped towards the table, glancing at the note with bold letters warning against taking it, and reaching a hand out to barely touch the hilt.
She was mildly disappointed it didn't feel all that different from any other sword.
"Are you actually considering taking it this time," Mephala asked, voice dripping in mockery.
The Dragonborn wanted to roll her eyes, but instead she smirked.
"Perhaps. But first, I want to make a deal."
She was not expecting an entire heartbeat of silence to answer her.
Maybe her words actually managed to shock the Daedric Prince.
"A deal?" Mephala droned. Her voice took on an amused quality. "Well, now that is something…I hadn't considered such a response."
"Well, you never were good at figuring me out, Mephala," the Dragonborn commented, looking around the room. It was easier to talk to Daedra when they had a statue, or an apparition. As it was, she had no idea where she should be looking.
Her remark earned a harsh chuckle. "Fair enough, little mortal. Alright, you have me intrigued. What could the great, mighty Dragonborn want from me, hm?"
The Dragonborn looked back at the blade. "A soul."
Silence, again, but only for half a second.
"A soul?" Mephala repeated. "Hmm…"
"A specific soul," the Dragonborn added.
It was best to be very clear when dealing with Daedra, lest they try and double cross or weasel their way out of the deal struck.
"I'll kill someone who trusts me, who calls me friend, with your unholy blade, and you give me one soul of my choosing that you currently have." The Dragonborn explained. "Do we have an agreement?"
"A soul for a soul?" Mephala asked, voice all smooth scorn.
The hero nodded. "Yes, exactly."
"Hmm…no, I want more. If you slay…say…ten mortals with my blade, in the name of deception and cunning and utter betrayal, then I will give you whatever soul you want that is within my power to give."
The Dragonborn managed not to smirk at the counter offer.
She honestly expected Mephala to demand even more than that.
"I accept."
The Dragonborn grasp the hilt of the Ebony Blade as Mephala's echoing laughter filled the space.
"Well, little mortal, I cannot wait to see what sort of web you think you are spinning…"
She didn't reply, and instead glanced at her reflection in the darkness of the sword she was now holding.
No matter what time of day or night she approached the Shrine of Boethiah, the sky would darken and the air would grow cold.
It was as if the area around the Daedric statue was always gloomy and sullen.
Ralis Sedarys was either too trusting or very stupid, because even as they climbed the steps of the shrine, he didn't question what they were doing here.
The Dragonborn kept one eye on him, fully expecting him to bolt at any moment.
If some random woman asked her to follow them to an obvious Daedric shrine, she certainly wouldn't stick around.
But, Ralis had always been a little…off. Maybe it was the voice of the now dead Dragon Priest that scrambled his brains, or maybe he had always been a shady Dunmer.
She couldn't say, and honestly didn't care.
The cultist of Boethiah slowly stopping fighting to watch them as they ascended the stairs, likely surprised she'd returned.
One of them had tried to attack her on her first visit here.
Now he only had one eye.
The priestess was waiting at the top, also looking astonished. No doubt the Dunmer woman had thought that the great hero would never return and sacrifice someone just for the chance of speaking with their Daedric Prince.
The Dragonborn internally shook her head at their foolishness.
Now that they stood in front of the colossal statue of Boethiah herself, Ralis started to get a bit fidgety.
"Why are we here, sera?" he asked at a whisper.
The Dragonborn wanted to roll her eyes at the use of "sera" from him, considering he only used that term in conversation when he wanted money.
"I'm just finishing something up, Ralis." she replied.
He darted a look at the statue, then the priestess, then rivetted his eyes back to the Dragonborn.
"I…see."
She smiled, "Come now, Ralis, don't you trust me?"
He hesitated, but nodded. "I…suppose so. You did let me live after all that…unpleasantness."
"Yes," the Dragonborn agreed. "After all the dead miners, the release of an ancient evil, the cover up afterwards…"
Ralis chuckled breathily, "Yes, all of that."
"What are friends for?" she finished.
He nodded once more.
"Could you touch that pillar? It releases a mechanism that allows me to complete this little errand." she asked, pointing behind him to the glowing pillar of obvious dark magic.
Why Boethiah wanted it be so clear it was evil if she wanted people to be tricked into touching it, the Dragonborn would never understand.
Ralis hesitated again, and for a fragile moment she was worried he would refuse.
But after another glance at her, he stepped forward and reached towards the pillar.
The moment his feet crossed the glowing threshold of runes, the magicka in the pillar flashed to life. Ralis was pulled towards the pillar and slammed against it, knocking the air from his lungs and holding him in place.
If he was asking her why or shouting threats, the Dragonborn couldn't tell. His voice was lost to the wind and snow and magicka.
"Well done," the priestess said, stepping forward. She circled around the pillar, taking stock of their new capture. "I'm honestly surprised to see you back here. What would the world think if they knew the legendary hero had such a dark side…"
The words were probably meant to spark some sort of a reaction, but the Dragonborn merely scoffed silently.
This lady had no idea about darkness.
The priestess stopped at her side again and held out a wicked looking dagger, covered in runes.
The Dragonborn looked at it, "So, I kill him and Boethiah might show up?"
"Perhaps," the woman answered. "I cannot say what the Daedric Prince will do, but I am eager to see you slay this one regardless."
She took the dagger, testing the weight in her hand. "And, if I do this, I'm part of your little cult?"
"I'd say so," the priestess remarked. "I think the fact that you are back here at all is enough to earn our respect."
"Ah, respect." The Dragonborn said, smirking. "So, are we allies then? Trusted accomplices?"
The priestess grinned wickedly. "Until Boethiah orders us to fight each other,"
The Dragonborn chuckled at that, "True enough…and the rest of the cultist?"
"They would be in agreement with me, until Boethiah likewise speaks to them of true strength."
The Dragonborn flicked her eyes up from the dagger in her hand to look at the priestess.
She smiled.
"Perfect."
In one fluid motion she drew the Ebony Blade from it's sheath, dropped the dagger of sacrifice and sliced the throat of the priestess.
The Dunmer woman stumbled, obviously surprised, and then crumpled to the ground in a gurgling heap.
The Dragonborn glanced over her shoulder at Ralis.
"Sorry, Ralis, but we both know you aren't really sorry about what happened at Kolbjorn."
She thrust the Ebony Blade forward, into his heart, and twisted it to end his life quickly and relatively painless.
The other cultist of Boethiah had realized what was going on and rallied below.
The Dragonborn sighed, flicking blood off the sword she held, and then stomped down the stairs to meet them halfway.
They had bottlenecked themselves on the stairs, and practically tripped over each other to get at her. She inhaled deeply, and exhaled loudly; "Fus!"
The single word was enough to give her space to move as they staggered backwards, two of them slipping on the icy stone steps and falling down.
One fell with a quick slice of the Ebony Blade. Another was stabbed straight through. A third, decapitated.
By the time she reached the bottom of the stairs, there were only two cultist left. One ran at her with a screech and a dagger raised high. The Dragonborn made a face and blocked the attack. She spun and cut the fool's knees, sending them to the ground before a quick jab ended their life.
The last cultist waited for her to step off the stairs before launching an attack. He might have landed a blow, but she called; "Yol!" and lit him on fire. The surprise of the sudden attack distracted him and she slit his throat, too.
The Dragonborn paused, listening, and when she heard no more sound she exhaled fully and let the Ebony Blade rest loosely in her hand. She scanned the area.
"Eleven." she counted. "Ha, you got a freebie Mephala. Although, it might be a stretch that the one-eyed guy wasn't still pissed at me…"
She heard noise from up above, near the statue, and looked over to see the priestess from before limping oddly down the stairs. She was moving as if she had never used two legs before.
"Hi Boethiah," the Dragonborn greeted with a frown. "I'd say sorry about the mess, but I'm not."
"You killed all my cultist!" the Daedric Prince exclaimed.
The voice was metallic, acidic, and not at all a match to the lips of the deceased woman being used as an undead puppet.
"Yes, I did." The Dragonborn confirmed. "But they were going to kill each other anyway to try and get your attention, so why are you upset?"
Boethiah didn't have an immediate answer for that, and once her humanoid vessel had made it down the stairs, she stopped to survey the area.
Blood was staining the snow, weapons were scattered about like a deranged art project, and the bodies of the cultist were heaped up in neat little piles.
"This is most unfortunate." Boethiah muttered.
The Dragonborn was about to comment on that when she heard the telltale sound of spider's legs.
"Right on time…" she mumbled, turning towards the slope to see a Frostbite spider walking up it.
"Mephala, I presume?"
The spider continued on its' path, walking as gracefully as the creature could.
"Not all of us have statues we can speak through," the spider replied in Mephala's easily recognizable voice.
The Dragonborn gestured around the area, "As promised, ten allies."
The spider turned its' head from side to side, taking all of it in.
"Unbelievable." Boethiath complained. "You killed my cultist and that friend up there…for Mephala?"
The Dragonborn grinned and turned to address the Daedric Prince of secret plots. "I was told to gain your favor I needed to prove that my tongue could sow a lie. What is more a lie then all of this? Besides, you don't even know the depth of a double-cross plot I just worked out. It's been one thousand years in the making, give or take a decade. I thought you would be impressed, Boethiah,"
There was a pause, and then Boethiah began to laugh.
It was a horrible sound that grated on the ears and promised untold horrors, but it was amusement all the same.
"Well done mortal, well done….although, it is not wise to gain my favor…" Boethiah warned.
The Dragonborn nodded and waved dismissively. "I'll be with you in a second. I'm sure you'll want a favor of some sort…"
She returned her attention to Mephala. "We had an agreement."
"Yes, we did." the webspinner confirmed.
"And? I satisfied the conditions,"
Mephala sighed, "Yes, you did. A deal is a deal. Name the specific soul you want."
This had been a plan one thousand years in the making, and no matter how confident she was in her abilities, she was still a little stunned she'd managed to pull it off.
There could always be one last catch, but that was a problem for another moment in time.
For now, she had an old ally to set free.
"I want Earl Leythen's soul released from your realm into Aetherius."
The spider stared at her for a long moment.
"Now there's a name I haven't heard in a while," Mephala mused.
The Dragonborn rolled her eyes. "Yes, I'm sure you have him stuffed in the Daedric equivalent of forgotten box under a bed…it's been a spell since he was around."
"What an odd request," Mephala pondered aloud. "You mortals spin fascinating and multifaceted webs…"
"A deal is a deal," the Dragonborn said, growing impatient. "I'm owed a soul, I want his released to Aetherius."
"Very well." Mephala said calmly. Maybe too much so. "Consider it done."
"Can I have your word on that?"
Mephala laughed. "My word? The word of a Daedric Prince whose sphere is lies?"
The Dragonborn smirked, "Dear Mephala, a smart person knows your true power comes from truth. For what is more dangerous then the lie of truth? You tell people what is true, and that is what undoes them. I'd say you are more trustworthy then most of the Daedra."
"Flattery won't get anything extra in this deal, little mortal." Mephala warned in an amused tone. "However, I give you my word as the webspinner, his soul is released to Aetherius."
"Thank you," the Dragonborn said sincerely.
The spider turned to leave, but stopped, pausing to say one last thing.
"I look forward to meeting you again, mortal. I so enjoy watching you spin yourself into a web of danger. One of these times, you will be caught and devoured."
"Someday, perhaps." the Dragonborn admitted.
The spider trekked down the slope and was soon gone from view. The Dragonborn sheathed the Ebony Blade, glad to be rid of it. She couldn't wait to lock it up in her house and avoid looking at it for a few hundred years.
Remembering Boethiah, she turned to find the Daedric Prince waiting impatiently nearby.
"Sorry for the interlude," she said, grinning. "I suppose you'd like something now?"
Boethiah seemed annoyed. "Indeed. I wish II had some means to punish you for…well, all of this, but that will have to wait. Besides, your cunning is a trait I could make use of at this moment in time."
"Oh?"
The Daedric Prince nodded. "Yes, my old champion has decided he no longer needs to grow stronger, no longer needs to heed my warnings. He has turned away from me and grown weak. I want him dead."
"Kill a Daedra worshipper, I can do that." The Dragonborn said.
It didn't seem like it would effect the greater forces in Nirn, either. At least not directly or immediately. This could have been much worse.
Boethaih frowned. "I can't decide if I want him to kill you, or you to kill him, more. Either, I suppose, would be enjoyable…"
The Dragonborn chuckled at the sullen nature of the Daedric Prince's annoyance.
"Regardless, be swift, be unseen, be deadly." Boethiah urged.
The priestess that had been the vessel shuddered and then collapsed, signaling Boethiah's final words.
The Dragonborn exhaled long and hard now that she was alone.
It had taken so long to find a means that would keep her own soul intact and relatively good, while still striking a deal with a dangerous Daedra.
Or, rather, two Daedra.
Still, the plan had worked better then she'd hoped, and left her with a mostly clear conscious. It was never easy to kill, not matter how many years she'd been alive, yet there were deaths easier to bear then others.
Cultist, for example.
And Ralis, a dark elf who might have been repentant somewhere deep down, but that had shown very few signs of remorse outwardly.
The Dragonborn sighed, taking one last look around the shrine at the mess left behind before carefully picking her way down the icy slope.
She had no doubt in a few years, probably a few months, some new group of worshippers would settle around the statue and in all likelihood, she'd be back here to deal with it again.
She snorted. Such was the life of a hero.
The further she walked downward from the shrine, the lighter the air felt, as if the cloud of darkness was lifting. Not only in the skies, but in her mind and heart as well.
She paused, spying not far in the distance something out of place. It was where the slope connected with the weather-worn road.
Years of dealing with supernatural problems had honed her eyes to know, even from this distance, that what she was seeing was some sort of spirit.
And, she had a pretty good idea whose.
Quickening her pace, she passed the last switchbacks in the hill and slowed when she reached sight of the remains of the road.
Leythen, or rather, his ghostly apparition, was waiting looking impatient, as always. He tapped his spectral foot with his arms crossed and looked up sharply when she stopped in front of him.
The Dragonborn had to smirk at the cycle of emotions on his face. From annoyance, confusion, surprise and then suspicion, she was highly entertained.
"Vestige?" Leythen asked finally, sounding just a bit unsure.
She grinned at the old title. It had been literal ages since she'd heard it. Few records even survived the chaos of the 2nd Era, meaning the 'hero' from those stories was lost to true obscurity.
"The one and only!" she replied airily. "Who else did you think we going to get you out of Oblivion?"
"Well, Mephala was her usual cryptic self about what was going on and who had made a bargain on my behalf," he replied, sounding a little irritated. His eyes narrowed. "So. What stupid thing did you offer in exchange?"
The Dragonborn waved off his comment with both hands and scoffed. "Some cultist died. I'm crying on the inside. I'm still the hero, as always."
She couldn't tell if Leythen believed her or not, but he didn't press the matter. Instead, his next question was accusatory.
"Why?"
She paused for a moment, smiling slightly. "Everyone deserves a second chance at a happy ending."
As idealistic as it was, she believed in second chances sincerely. Even if such a sentimental belief was sometimes tempered due to past experiences, she suspected she could never be rid of it completely.
Leythen, however, was quick with a sarcastic retort.
"I think that ridiculous notion is how we ended up having to deal with Veya,"
She scowled at him. That was still, after all this time, a bit of a sore spot.
"I forgot what a jerk you were," the Dragonborn said with a laugh. "You could just say 'thank you' and leave it at that. Or, not bothered appearing in the first place."
There were the ever so slight beginnings of a grin on his face after that comment.
She tilted her head, "Why are you here? I would have thought you'd be glad to be out of the Spiral Skein or wherever you were."
"I had to figure out why you did it." Leythen answered.
She smiled, "What are friends for?"
He crossed his arms and snorted contemptuously. "I recall telling you I hated you on multiple occasions."
The Dragonborn frowned, "Seriously, don't be a jerk. Look, I'm well aware friends might be a stretch, so…allies then, or…whatever you want to call it. Believe me or not, but…well, I felt bad."
"That I died?" he asked, sounding confused.
She shook her head, "No, not that part. But that you died and weren't going to…well, going to be with your daughter after all that. I wasn't sure what to say or do when you said that in the tower."
Leythen shifted his weight, but said nothing. The action looked deliberately casual and her eyes narrowed.
"But…you knew that, didn't you?" the Dragonborn realized, pieces falling into place after all these years. "You are a Psijic, you're not stupid. You must have known what would happen to your soul when all was said and done."
He merely stared at her, his usual expression of annoyance mixed with apathy in place firm on his face.
She slowly grinned, "Wait, did you just say you were going to see your daughter just to make Darien and I feel better about you dying?"
He scoffed and rolled his eyes dramatically. "Hardly. I couldn't have cared less what you two idiots thought or felt."
"Uh huh." she said, crossing her arms, amused. She did not believe him on that point. "Well, in any case, to answer your question…I felt bad because I knew it wasn't true. I knew where you'd end up, and that just seemed…wrong, somehow."
"Even though I was a villain in that story?" Leythen asked sarcastically.
"You know, I'm still waiting on that 'thank you'," the Dragonborn retorted.
Rather then reply to that comment, he paused and asked an entirely different question; "How long has it been?"
She paused. "Are you sure you want to know that?"
"Answer the question,"
With a sigh, she relented. "About a thousand years."
It was hard to tell how he felt about that, so she continued when he didn't say anything.
"It…took longer then expected for me to work out how to get you free without compromising too much. Sorry."
Leythen gave her a weird look. "Why are you apologizing? I hadn't expected or considered that you, or anyone, would even attempt something this foolish."
That was a backhanded compliment if she ever heard one, but rather then get annoyed, she merely shrugged. "Still, I would have liked to get this sorted sooner."
The Dragonborn smirked, "Oh, we won, by the way. World's still around. Obviously."
"Mephala had told me that much," he replied dryly.
She paused again, "You…are glad to be out of Oblivion, right?"
"Still fishing for that thank you?" he snarked back. "That is a ridiculous question."
She waved her hands in a shooing motion. "Then why are you still hanging around? I know it's not to see me, you hate me, remember? Go and be with your family, Leythen."
He smiled a little at that, nodding, and she took a step back in case the magicka overflowed.
"Tell Valsirenn hello for me?" she asked.
Leythen nodded, "I will."
His form began to fade and shimmer, turning to wispy coils that disappeared.
"Oh, and Vestige…thank you."
He was gone, journeying to Aetherius at long last.
The Dragonborn smiled, taking a minute and a deep breath, to appreciate the moment. The gentle breeze that blew by seemed to signal the end to this long process.
"Well, looks like I'm off to kill a Daedra worshiper, or bandit leader, or…whatever." the Dragonborn mused, checking her map for where she was supposed to be going.
"First things first, though. I should drop off this Ebony Blade at my house behind some nice wards to keep it hidden."
She used her knee to roll the map back up and chuckled to herself. "Maybe I'll pull Dawnbreaker out of storage for old time's sake…"
It was never wise to make deals with Daedra, but there were always moments in time where it became unfortunately necessary.
But, she hadn't managed to survive four thousand years without learning a few tricks from the Daedra themselves.
Afterall, what was better then an old fashion double cross?
The Dragonborn spun on her heel and began the long trek home, casting a quick glance upwards at the starry sky.
"Happy ending, old friend…"
Author's Note:
A random idea what popped into my head a while back that I decided to write up. Why not?
I always play the same character in Elder Scrolls games; I have it in my head that, since she's Dragonborn (Skyrim) she wouldn't really age, or, at least, she would age slowly. She can still die, but she's been around for a long time (4,000 yearsish).
That line of Leythen's about going to be with his daughter when he dies bothered me; if you pledge yourself to a Daedra, your soul is theirs. He should know this, he's not dumb. So, either Mephala lied about that and he believed her, (possible) He knows and actually is saying it to make the player feel better (maybe?) Or Zenimax just wanted a semi-happy ending for him. (Likely). Either way, it sparked this story.
Leythen, I thought, was a really interesting and well done character, so props to ESO on that one. He also used buffs that were actually helpful in a fight, which is a miracle (lol) AND didn't get in my way when I was trying to read books. (I'm looking at you, Darien. I want to read that bookcase, not talk to you. Move it!)
I feel like, even though they did get double-crossed, that Mephala and Boethiah would kind of appreciate all the lies and plots and be somewhat OK with this whole thing.
I really, really enjoyed the Summerset DLC; it was tight start to finish and rich with story based quests, which I love. So, if by chance someone is reading this that hasn't played it and already has ESO, I recommend it.
Not much else to say, hope you enjoyed this and who knows. Maybe I'll write more random one-shots like this for other Elder Scrolls moments.
Thanks for reading~