Karliah creeps up the winding staircase to the Archmage's quarters. Breaking into the house of a mage, any mage, is always tricky. A thief can never know what magical security might be buzzing behind the walls, or invisibly lurking on the floor. A lightning antronach can be hidden in the sock drawer, or a paralysis glyph can be carved into the lock tumbler.
But Karliah is a master thief, a chosen of Nocturnal, and though luck has abandoned her in recent years, she more than makes up for it in skill, or so she likes to think. Even the College of Winterhold isn't safe from her ambition, and she employs both stealth and magic to get to the biggest treasure trove the college has to offer: the Archmage's quarters.
But the staircase is curiously unguarded, and though there is a superior lock on the door, there is no magical trap. Child's play. Karliah casts a muffling spell on the door's hinges, it swings open without a sound.
Ah. Two dremora lords are pacing in the room's interior, Their thick metronomic footsteps echo across the darkened chamber. Gargantuan daedric swords are sheathed to their backs; the serrated edges look like they could shred through her armor like paper. Luckily both their backs are turned, and before they can turn around, Karliah closes the door, slipping inside and into a shadow.
She doesn't remember if dremora eyes can penetrate the darkness, so to be cautious she enshrouds herself in an invisibility spell.
She steps into the center of the room. Moonbeams fall onto the tree at the center of the garden, sprawling its shadow ominously across the floor. From behind her cowl, eyes dart across the room, watching for any more surprises.
There seem to be none, but she is more wary than she was before. Jobs that shouldn't be easy, but are, usually have nasty surprises at the end of them.
But the excitement, the exhilaration, the fear; these are a master thief's working conditions. She would be disappointed if it there wasn't a surprise.
She scopes the room for spoils, spotting several she knows to be extremely valuable. Filled soul gems, enchanted items, jewelry, nirnroots, and are those keys to Nordic tombs? She has never seen this many in one place.
She can't stop herself from gleefully rubbing her hands together. This would be a better haul than she thought! But it required planning. If she wanted a return visit, then she had to be very careful about what she took the first time.
The sound of a large snore fills the room. Karliah whirls around, only just barely stopping herself from making noise in the process.
Someone is seated at a desk along the wall, just a short way from the entrance; a woman, and an imperial at that. She's leaning back precariously on the hind legs of her chair, feet resting on the edge of a desktop littered with notes and scrolls. Her hands are folded on her stomach. A book is on her lap, open to a page of no language that Karliah can discern. She wears the odd poncho-like vestments of the archmage, the hood left off, letting an impressive mane of curly red hair flow almost to the floor.
The archmage is beautiful, almost ethereally so, like she's stepped out of the pages of a children's book. It's disconcerting, and despite herself, Karliah stares. Glamor magic perhaps.
The effect is shattered when the Archmage snores again, loudly; perfect lips yawning open like a slaughterfish maw. Karliah snaps out of her reverie, frowning at her own lack of concentration.
As she turns to steal the keys, she notices something catch the light of the moon in the Archmage's hands. Her heartbeat quickens.
Is that? It couldn't be…
Azura's star.
She would recognize it anywhere, and it seems genuine. Karliah shakes her head in disbelieving amusement. It is something she had long ago spent many years trying to find; practically a childhood dream. Who else but a mage would have such a thing?
Perhaps luck has not completely abandoned her after all. The artifact is clutched between the Archmage's hands, though Karliah is certain she can lift the fingers away without waking her. All thought of the keys forgotten, Karliah pads over to the Archmage's side. The imperial continues to snore fitfully, and shows no signs of waking any time soon.
Karliah licks her lips. This will be tricky; she dares not use magic for fear that the woman can detect it. Removing her gloves, she slowly lays her hands on the sleeping woman's fingers. Delicately, she works at prizing them away from the star, one after another. It is slow work, and requires the utmost patience. It's like she's a novice again and this is just a new kind of lock to pick, albeit a snoring lock that can blast her away with magic.
Before too long the first hand is off, and Karliah allows herself to use a little force to yank the star from the other one. The motion is jarring, and for the merest second Karliah thinks the Archmage might awaken. She stays absolutely still, not even breathing. The only sounds are the steps of the dremora and the sound of the snow buffeting the walls outside.
The Snoring continues.
Triumphant, Karliah takes a step back, lets herself breathe. Until then, she hadn't noticed her heart racing. But just because the prize is in her hands does not mean that she's clear, and she struggles to fight down her giddiness.
There is an old adage among thieves that a professional should never let her excitement overtake her caution. Karliah, momentarily forgetting this, doesn't think to check behind her before turning around.
The dremora hadn't seen her, but it is right there, inches away. And as Karliah turns she faces it point-blank. The creature is much more intimidating up close; face emblazoned with swirling tattoos that almost hurt to look at. His burning eyes look past Karliah, but it is easy to think, even for a moment, that he is looking right at her.
Karliah's breath audibly catches.
Its face curling into a grimace, the dremora reacts instantly, lashing out with its fist. But Karliah is faster, and she manages to launch herself back, breaking the invisibility spell in the process. In mid-air she brings her bow to bear and notches an arrow, letting it loose after a flicker of concentration.
An ordinary arrow might very well have done nothing, but this one has been dipped in painstakingly mixed poison. It hits the torso, and the Dremora drops to one knee, temporarily incapacitated. It screams in a mixture of rage and pain.
Reacting entirely on instinct, Karliah ducks as a great blade swings in an arc where her neck would have been. Too close to use the bow, Karliah unsheathes a glass dagger enchanted with intense shock magic. Very expensive; it is her last one. She laments this fact as, spinning, she plunges it in the second dremora's thigh. The enchantment unloads its entire charge into the flesh, electrocuting her attacker and making him spasm in place. Karliah kicks him away and puts an arrow in his head. Horrifyingly, the monster is still alive. But for now, he's down for the count.
Just as Karliah brings another arrow to the bowstring, swinging to aim at the Archmage's chair, a bright light blinds her and she releases too soon. The arrow clatters uselessly off the floor.
Suddenly she is paralyzed.
The Archmage is awake, standing at her full height with an arm outstretched; the residue of powerful alteration magic rolls off her hand like a stench. Satisfied that Karliah can't move, she extends her other hand. It glows red, and Karliah can feel herself float off the floor and move, frozen in mid-air.
She comes to a stop a ways in front of the tall Imperial. She is not let down.
"What have we here?" she cocks her head to the side, expression impassive.
Even locked in place with her life in danger, Karliah can't help but fixate on the woman's otherworldly beauty, almost as off-putting as the dremora's tattoos. Glamour magic, perhaps? It is very distracting, keeps her from thinking straight, keeps her from coming up with a plan…
Her frantic ruminations are cut off by the sound of both dremora coming to their feet, and she can hear them advancing. Karliah nearly panics. The Archmage throws a cursory glance in their direction. They both stop, and the Imperial turns her attention back to Karliah.
"Well? Tell me who you are. I might let you live"
Karliah calms herself down, distressingly thankful to the dremora for snapping her out of shock. She isn't helpless. Reaching out with her will, she harnesses her own magic, thrashing it against the impressive paralysis wards that keep her in place. If she does this right, she should be able to shorten the spell's duration.
All she needs to do is stall, and hope the Archmage doesn't catch on.
"I am a simple thief"
"You are no simple thief if you were able to surpass the college's wards and elude my guards"
"I am…very driven"
"Driven enough to incapacitate two dremora lords?" the archmage regards her thoughtfully, "what is it that drives you, I wonder?"
Just a few more seconds. Karliah's stare hardens as she readies herself to move again. The archmage smiles for the first time.
She gently caresses Karliah's cheek. Gentle, sudden; the flesh tingles where the archmage's fingers have traced some sort of pattern. It feels wrong, the taste of magic oozes like syrup.
But she can't dwell on that. Unable to hold a moving body, the archmage's telekinesis fails. Karliah almost forgets to land on her feet when the spell runs out. She doesn't take any chances. Still a little disoriented, she jumps out the window, smashing glass with her leap. She stabs a scaling knife into the masonry to slow her fall. When she's low enough, she launches herself off the surface, diving expertly into the water.
Karliah spends the rest of the evening cursing and swimming through arctic waters. Eventually she makes it to land and begins the long, sullen trek to her cabin in the middle of the woods. This involves a hike through snow hills, and fighting off wolves once she gets past the tree-line.
Her cabin lies hidden underneath a strategically-piled snowdrift. She has to spend a few minutes fiddling with the mechanism that opens the door, using some fire magic to thaw out the hinges. Finally she steps back and presses the appropriate button, and nothing happens. Screaming bloody murder she kicks the door and it pops open after a series of clicks.
She doesn't bother to get changed, just throws off her wet clothes and tosses her equipment on the floor. The feeling of finally crawling into bed, nestling between warm bear pelts and sheets, is the sweetest relief. It isn't long before her eyelids flutter shut and she falls asleep.
She dreams. Memories of her childhood; training with her mother in Indoril tradition, her first successful job, her first kill, her first failed heist. The images come to mind like a series of flashbacks without sequence. She dreams of Gallus, and these memories are particularly heart-rending. Seeing him is like being able to breathe again. For a while, she lets herself believe that what she's seeing is real.
Abruptly she finds herself in the Indoril household, the setting of her childhood. The images have stopped, and suddenly knowing that Gallus was a dream is an injection of ice water into her veins.
She's a child again, wearing her old training leathers. She looks down on tiny hands that can barely hold a bow, already showing callouses. The fireplace is lit, and her mother's armchair lies facing it, red leather pleasantly reflecting the light of the fire. Karliah peeks around the chair's side.
Her mother is not there, but the rather Archmage, looking intently into the fire. She notices Karliah at the edge of her vision and turns her head to regard her. Karliah panics and turns to run, but it's like making her way through shoulder-deep water.
"Argggh!" her child's voice yells in frustration, unable to resist as the Imperial scoops her into her arms, taking her back to the armchair and settling her down onto her lap.
In the flames, scenes of her life are playing out like they were before.
"You've had a hard time of it huh?"
"What are you doing here!?"
The Archmage pats her head, scratching at the back like her mother used to do, and Gallus after her. Karliah purrs despite herself, and the dream ends.
As the days go by Karliah continues to dream each night, watching her life play out night after night like a ceaseless zoetrope. Sometimes the Archmage is there at the end, sometimes she isn't. Either way, Karliah wakes up every morning sweating and exhausted. It plays hell on her mind.
Her entry into the room is deathly silent despite the wards on the windowsill. The dremora don't see her, and she deals with them quickly; an extremely expensive dispel enchantment on her arrows sees to that. She has spared no expense; she's desperate.
The Archmage is snoring in her bed, this time dressed in simple sleeping cottons. Karliah leans over her, pressing the edge of her dagger to the Imperial's throat.
"Wake up!"
The snoring stops. The woman blearily opens her eyes and looks to her throat. No reaction to the dagger. She stares back at Karliah and says nothing.
"What did you do to me!?" The Archmage's breath is steady, aggravatingly calm. "Talk dammit!"
"You brought it on yourself Karliah, when you stole from me."
"Then fix it! I have your damn star right here," she pulls Azura's star out of her pouch, "just make the dreams stop!"
"Fus!" The force of the shout knocks Karlaiah to the floor. Cursing, Karliah jumps to her feet, her head still reeling from the impact. She bears her dagger and lunges, catching the Archmage as she's getting up.
The knife bounces off of flesh. Skin-hardening magic. Before she can react she's knocked away by searing fire, hotter than any spell she's ever been hit with. It burns through the wrist guards of her armor, leaving her arms trembling with pain.
Suddenly her body goes numb. Another paralysis spell. Karliah yells in frustration.
"The dreams won't stop Karliah. You're mine now" Karliah struggles, bashing her will against the paralysis, but the spell is much stronger than last time. "Sleep."
Karliah gets drowsier with her every struggle, until finally she submits to sleep.
Karliah cries in frustration as she drives tiny fists uselessly against the archmage's thighs. The woman kneels down and grabs both hands, holding them in place, like a parent would do to a misbehaving child. Like usual she takes the Dunmer in her arms and settles the both of them down in front of the fireplace.
Little Karliah struggles uselessly on the archmage's lap. "What have you done to me?"
"I've planted myself in your subconscious"
"What in Oblivion does that mean?"
"Put simply? It means I'm in your head." The archmage's voice echoes excessively before returning to normal. "I know everything about you, Ms. Nightingale."
"Everything? You know everything about me?"
"Of course I do, what else do you think I've been doing in here these last few nights?"
Karliah stiffens. She has stolen countless things and broken into many different places. She's familiar with the trauma that brings; of knowing that someone has been in your home and you were powerless to stop it. But her victims always deserved it, or could afford the loss. This doesn't prepare her for the feeling of someone being in her head, privy to her most intimate secrets.
"Oh, but don't worry, I won't invade your memories much longer. As I said, you're mine now, and that means you have to do what I say. Only then will I release my hold on you. Otherwise I can just waltz right back in."
The flames in the fireplace flare up, and in them Karliah can see herself; scenes of her life playing out like in a crystal ball.
"How can you do this?" Karliah asks, trembling, "this is-"
"Terrible? I agree. But you took something very precious to me, and you must pay the price. This is my price, Karliah." The fire dies down and the images stop. The archmage pats the girl's head, gently scratching behind the ears like she knows Karliah likes. It has a calming effect. "But don't worry, I am no cruel master. You will keep your dignity. And when you have completed the tasks I set before you, I will set you free."
The scratching is extremely relaxing. Child Karliah leans back, enjoying the sensation. It occurs to her that in the only two occasions the archmage has done this, she sleeps better than she has in years.
Karliah wakes up in a soft bed, with blankets and sheets and all those things she hasn't been able to enjoy since Mercer's betrayal. It is so relaxing that at first she thinks she's still dreaming. But it is a good dream, so far divorced from the bleakness of her forest hut. She closes her eyes, savoring the feeling.
Finally she opens them again. An Altmer woman is sitting at her bedside, reading a book. She notices Karliah stirring.
"Ah, you're awake." The woman puts down her book.
Karliah fixes the woman with a stare.
"The Archmage told me to acclimatize you when you woke up"
"Acclimatize?"
"Yes. My name is Faralda, and I'll be answering any questions you might have during the orientation process. Usually this is the Master Wizard's role, but Tolfdir is off doing who-knows-what, so you're dealing with me."
"Orientation- what?"
"You are a guest of the Archmage, the first one ever, as it happens. I am given to understand that you will be completing some tasks for her, and in the meantime you will be staying here at the college." She gestures around the room, "This is where you'll be staying, in the hall of attainment, the very room our current Archmage used to live in."
The room is sparse, but fully furnished. Books line its shelf, and all manner of strange objects are lying about. An enchanting table collects dust in the corner.
"The Archmage will see you at mid-day. In the meantime, feel free to explore the college. Just…be careful. You never know what experiments might be going on around the next corner." Faralda gets up, "you can find breakfast waiting for you on the second floor. Come find me if you have any questions, I am usually at the Hall of Countenance."
Faralda leaves the room.
For a while Karliah is left in silence until her mind has caught up to Faralda's words. She abruptly sits up. "Wait! What did you say?!"
But the Altmer has already left. Karliah is left in the sunlit room, watching the doorway like she expects Faralda to come back and tell her that it was all a joke. She doesn't. The dream was real. Joy.
She throws the covers off of her, only to discover that she is naked. Squawking, she throws the covers back on. A cursory glance of the room reveals that her belongings are gone. She knits her eyebrows. A set of blue robes lies folded at the foot of her bed.
She puts them on, unused to the loose fit of the fabric. All the swishing seems terribly unnecessary; she doesn't know why mage's put up with it. Walking into the main chamber, she briefly marvels at the magicka font, but's it's nothing she hasn't seen before. She makes her way to the second floor.
Like Faralda has said, there is a dining chamber there. A full breakfast waiting for her, more rich and complete than anything she can afford. Her mouth waters.
"Are you the Archmage's guest?"
A young Dunmer girl in journeyman robes is sitting there, in the middle of her own meal.
"I…yes, I think so"
"The Archmage never has guests. I think you must be the first."
"Really" Karliah says. It's not really a question, more of a dismissive acknowledgment. The girl picks up on this and bashfully resumes eating. Karliah sits and wastes no time digging in to her own meal.
In between mouthfuls Karliah casts the girl a sidelong glance; she is noticeably downcast at Karliah's dismissal. Karliah feels bad. "Uh…what kind of person is the Archmage?"
The girl perks up, "That's an interesting question actually. She hasn't been here that long. She actually came about the same time as myself and the other apprentices. I'm Brelyna by the way." She extends a hand.
Karliah takes it, "I'm…" she considers using her own name, but her paranoia is deep-rooted. She isn't used to talking to very many people, certainly no-one as earnest as Brelyna. Years of solitude and hiding have made her anti-social.
She doesn't finish her sentence. Brelyna interrupts the pause, "Uh, it's okay, you don't have to tell me if you don't want to. I understand if you have, uh…circumstances"
"Yes. Circumstances. Thank you. You may call me Karin if you wish." It's an old alias. "You said the Archmage came here the same time as the apprentices did?"
"Actually she was an apprentice too. Her ascension…it's a strange story. You should ask her to tell it to you sometime. Er, I mean if you don't already know it. Being friends and all…"
"We're not friends." That effectively shuts down the conversation, and Brelyna turns bashfully to her food. The two of them eat the rest of their meal in silence. Eventually a young Nord man joins them. He gives Karliah a questioning glance but says nothing. He and Brelyna converse for the remainder of the time Karliah is there.
Karliah has been to the college before, but she's never had time to take into account what a marvelous structure it is. Walking into the main courtyard, she can fully appreciate the scale of the thing, along with the statue that stands herald in the middle. She has always had a fondness for statues; always a challenge to steal, but always worth it in one way or another.
The snow is falling, but it seems softer here than it does in the middle of the woods. It's strange; her life is consumed by her schedule, all for the sake of surviving and, eventually, revenge. Being forcibly removed from her daily life is strangely refreshing. She doesn't have to worry about completing a task by a certain time, only to move on to the next.
But she is still disquieted. She doesn't know what the Archmage has in store for her.
While she waits to be summoned she walks around the college. First she tries the gates. They won't open. After that she meanders, climbing up stairs and cautiously checking around corners. The residents acknowledge her curtly, but don't offer her much conversation, which is fine. A whiny restoration mage, and a haughty Altmer complaining about Faralda, talk to her more than she would like, but she gets away from them before too long.
She eventually finds herself in the Arcaneum. Mage's have silly names for the simplest things, why can't they just call it a library? She instantly gets along with Burgluk, the librarian, who sees her, grunts, and returns to his book. Apparently she has passed inspection, or he just isn't worried that she will steal anything.
She reads for a time, and peruses the shelves when she's done with that. No wonder Burgluk isn't worried, the magical security here is obscenely layered.
"Excuse me?"
Burgluk looks up, removing his glasses, "Yes?"
"This display case…is that-?"
Burluk gets up, puffing his chest out proudly, "An Elder scroll? Yes it is. The pride of the college's collection." He joins her by the display case, the awe in her face mirrored in his own. If she had any idea this was here, she would never have even bothered with the Archmage's tower. To this day, the most revered thieves in history were the ones who had stolen Elder Scrolls.
"How did such a thing come to be here?"
"The Archmage. She just walked in here one day, claiming she had an Elder Scroll. I thought she was crazy, but she pulled it out of her pack, cool as you please." He shakes his head, "I thought she was just another apprentice…" he trails off, looking thoughtful, still disbelieving. "…Amazing"
"Everyone in this place seems to have that opinion of her"
"And you don't? How did you meet the Archmage, if not in the most fantastical circumstances?" Karliah is silent for a moment. "What's your relationship with her anyway? She never has guests"
"Why do you leave it out here," she asks, ignoring his questions, "where anyone can steal it?"
"You think I'm stupid, girl? The magnitude of security around this scroll is more complicated than you can imagine. The Archmage herself has even installed safety precautions." He pats the display case, "any thief tries to steal the Elder Scroll dies a thousand agonizing deaths." He fixes her with a look that says 'so don't try anything,' and walks back to his desk.
Before she can return to staring at the scroll, assessing the security measures, she detects someone behind her.
"The Archmage will see you now" says Faralda.
This room. She is wary when she's in this room. She instantly notices the pair of dremora standing at attention, their faces smoldering. She can't help but smile at them. Are they the same ones as last time? The taller one's grimace suggests yes.
The Archmage is on hands and knees tending to her garden, making small holes in the soil and planting strange, elongated bulbs. She ignores Karliah completely, contentedly gardening like a Grandmother in her backyard.
Karliah shuffles nervously in place, adapting to the silence. Eventually the Archmage gets up and wipes her hands against her poncho.
"Karliah," she says, turning. Her face holds no expression, but she stares at Karliah with an unsettling intensity. Her eyes are a deep, disquieting green; the color of thickets and poison. "How strange, I feel like I'm meeting you for the first time." She gestures to a seat along the wall.
After a moment's hesitation, Karliah sits down.
"But of course we have met. Many times in fact. Haven't we?"
Karliah grimaces.
"Haven't we?"
"…In a way, yes, we have."
The Archmage smiles at the response. It's very hard to tell if it is sincere. "I have something I want to show you." She retreats behind the partition that divides the main chamber and her bed. Rummaging sounds ensue, and before long she re-emerges, slightly disheveled, brandishing a staff with a horned skull mounted on its head.
She sets it down on the table between them. The design is unique, but familiar; it's something she's only ever seen in books.
"That's-"
"I imagine you're wondering what I have planned for you," the Archmage interrupts.
"…Yes, among other things."
"So quizzical. Always questioning. That's one of the things I like about you."
Karliah's can't restrain her anger, "Stop talking to me like-"
"I know you?" the voice is edged with reproach. "You would do well to get used to it. I meant what I said, I won't violate your memories any longer, but you have wronged me," she lets the words linger, "and I intend for you to rectify things." She fishes Azura's Star out of her robes. "If you had gotten away with your little stunt, things might have gotten very unpleasant indeed." She sets it down on the table, next to the staff, "as it happens, the star isn't my only daedric artifact. I imagine you recognize the staff?"
"The Skull of Corruption."
"Correct," she seems genuinely delighted. "Vaermina's dream-manipulator, but it can do so much more than just steal dreams. It's how I've been in your head these last couple days," she chuckles, "ironic really. I'm absolutely rubbish at sneaking around, and I managed to sneak into your dreams." She laughs in self-congratulation.
Karliah narrows her eyes.
"And that's what you'll be doing for me. I could only get into your memories because I established a physical connection." Karliah remembers the caress on that first night. The magic, she knew it felt wrong. "If I actually had any skill in stealth I never would have needed the connection. Indeed, I could have used the thorn to steal thoughts from anyone in Skyrim." She pauses, "or indeed, I could plant new thoughts if I so wished"
Karliah's throat dries. She can see where this is going. If what she says is true, the Archmage is more powerful and ambitious than she had imagined.
The Imperial steeples her hands. She smiles grimly. "We start today"
The two of them make their way downstairs to the main hall of the college. The Archmage walks with a military gait, at odds with the billowy movements of most mages. Rather than using her staff as a support, she stabs its end into the ground with her every step, as if announcing her presence. Behind her, Karliah walks with The Skull of Corruption clutched in both her arms. The artifact is wrapped in blue cloth pocked with sigils, Karliah doesn't dare touch the thing directly.
A few instructors are there, conversing, and the young Nord apprentice from earlier is hurling bolts of electricity at a straw dummy.
The effect that the Archmage has is immediate. The instructors stop talking to offer her respectful little bows, muttering "Archmage", in acknowledgment as she passes. The Nord, Onmund, notices the silence a little too late, and he jumps to attention when he notices her presence. As she walks past, not even glancing at him, he blushes and makes his own, slightly mottled, acknowledgment.
The Archmage comes to a stop in front of the magicka font and thumps the end of her staff with a clear clacking noise that fills the hall. Karliah notices that the other mages look to the staff with more reverence than they do the Archmage. "I will be needing this space," she announces, "please vacate for the remainder of the day."
Apparently used to strange demands, the mages graciously comply, filing out of the hall without complaint.
"The Skull of Corruption, please"
Karliah hands it to her. The Archmage unravels the cloth, tossing it aside. She rests the staff delicately on top of upraised hands, eyes closed in concentration. Opening her eyes, she lowers her hands, leaving the Skull of Corruption floating in mid-air.
"Now if I remember correctly…" she produces Azura's Star and tosses it into the magicka font. It comes to a stop in mid-air. As the blue stream of magic flows passed the star, it concentrates into a smaller, brighter beam.
"And now…" The Archmage extends a hand. As if manhandled by invisible fingers, the Skull of Corruption is jostled upright to the middle of the beam. Immediately sigils in glowing indigo begin to form, as if by their own volition, all across the hall, covering the stone as if the spirits themselves have written on it with ectoplasmic ink.
"Finally," the Archmage says, turning to face Karliah with a flourish, "it took me a long time to figure out how to do this, so I hope you can appreciate the…gravity of the moment." Karliah gulps. "Well then. Let's get started!"
The dreamscape is unlike anything she has ever experienced.
Karliah steps down the battlements of a Nordic fort with wobbly legs, walking through battling phantoms that take no notice of her. Their screams and shouts register as if from a distance, but the brutality of the violence is vivid. Blood sprinkles on the stone and snow, disappearing seconds after it is spilled, only to be shed again when the phantoms repeat their eternal battle.
It isn't as alarming as one would think; Karliah doesn't anticipate danger from the ghostly fighters. She anticipates it from everything else.
The landscape beyond the fortress is entirely featureless; a uniform gray. And the night is an endless expanse of black. Karliah wonders what would happen to her if she were to try going there, but the warnings of the Archmage, a memory distorted by the environment, still rings apparent.
"Do not stray from the mind's setting, or you will be lost forever."
She has a slight headache, but whenever she stops to pay it any mind it goes away.
Karliah shakes her head. At least it's interesting work; the mind of Ulfric Stormcloak. It is riddled with conflict emblematic of the man's drive.
"Find the place of his memories, plant the idea, and then come back."
The place of his memories. Right. The fortress is massive, how in the world is she supposed to find 'the place of his memories'?
The battlements are much taller than they would be in real life, and the stairs fluctuate in width, oftentimes right before her very eyes. It is a difficult descent. Eventually she makes it to the ground, where within the walls is the great fortress. Finding a door inside takes forever.
The interior is as vast and as cavernous as it looks outside, perhaps even more so. The structure does not conform to reality; some pillars seem too thin to support their platforms, some walls become floors without Karliah even noticing.
She walks for what seems like forever. Following the archmage's advice, Karliah never descends a staircase, only ascends them. Karliah feels like she has climbed higher than the highest mountain in Skyrim, and yet the staircases go on.
But four staircases become three, and then three become two. Karliah eventually finds herself climbing a single staircase illuminated in the middle of endless darkness. It leads to a room where a child is playing with a wooden sword.
Karliah sticks to the shadows. Being seen by the child is, the Archmage has warned her, the last thing anyone wants.
Depictions of Ulfric's life play out a tapestry hanging on the wall. Scenes are depicted as if on the walls of an ancient Nordic ruin; rudimentary figures and stoic faces, the equivalent of the fire in Karliah's dreamscape. Ulfric's, apparently, is an old-fashioned soul.
"The place of his memories," Karliah whispers. She licks her lips, gauging the distance between herself and the child. It won't be too difficult, she decides, but even so she is nervous. She doesn't care one way or another about the civil war, but she understands the potential magnitude of what she is about to do.
"You are my instrument in this, my tool. Anything you do is no fault of your own. Remember that."
"Right," Karliah looks around.
There it is: a Nordic burial urn, a pristine incarnation of the mottled things you can find in the old ruins. When the child's back is turned, Karliah sneaks to it and carefully removes the lid. It is much heavier than it looks. With a quick glance back to the child, engrossed in his play-fighting, Karliah puts the lid back in a way that leaves a small opening at the top of the urn.
Her task is completed. Now what? She looks around, waves her arms. Nothing happens.
"What the he-" the most delightful feeling interrupts her in mid-sentence, a scratching at the back of her head, relaxing and reassuring. She shuts her eyes as every limb in her body is ensconced in plush silk, and slowly, almost imperceptibly, she starts to fall.
Karliah's eyes surge open as she feels herself falling backwards. But she wasn't standing up in the first place. In fact she has been lying down the entire time, her head nestled, as it turns out, on the curve of Archmage's remarkably plush bosom. Not entirely sure what is going on, Karliah has one thing to say.
"What?"
The Archmage smiles down at her, and Karliah belatedly realizes that the Imperial has been scratching the back of her head, very pleasantly in fact. In her torpor she leans her head back and closes her eyes again.
"You've done a good job Karliah"
"Why am I so tired?"
"Don't worry about anything right now, just sleep." It's hard to argue when she keeps scratching like that. The constant attention is very tranquilizing, almost hypnotic. The feeling of the Archmage's nails is a sweet relief to her exhausted mind.
"Thank you Karliah" the Archmage says, languidly scrutinizing the rim of her wineglass, "I know you had no choice in the matter, but I sincerely appreciate what you did tonight, you may very well have helped me change the course of Skyrim's history."
Karliah is silent, fiddling with her utensils and playing with her food. She goads a single slice of meat around the plate, leaving a trail of sauce in its wake. The clinking of the fork fills the Archmage's chamber.
"And you enjoyed it didn't you? I imagine it was unlike any job you've ever taken, and I know how much that must have thrilled you." The Archmage's smile is infuriating.
"Must you act so familiar with me? It is presumptuous and annoying"
The Archmage sighs, "must you be like that?"
"Like what?"
"A sourpuss"
That's what Gallus used to call her. Karliah isn't sure if the archmage knows this, but it sets her off.
"Excuse me?!"
"You heard me, you're being a sourpuss"
"Maybe because I'm being held against my will in the middle of arctic nowhere, with you of all people for company!"
"So your problem is with me?"
"Is that so strange? Not one day ago you as much as held my sanity ransom"
The Archmage chuckles, "I don't have a working relationship with that particular daedric prince, but…I digress," her expression turns severe, "I have been an excellent host. I could have been much less pleasant under the circumstances. Considering what you did to me, it wouldn't hurt you to be a little more personable"
Karliah struggles to come up with a response, but ultimately concedes the point.
It is true after all. She is provided with rich food, excellent living space, and a job that challenges and intrigues her. It is also true that the only person she can truly blame for this mess is herself, for trying to steal Azura's star in the first place, from someone she should have singled out as dangerous to begin with.
She feels like a petulant child. The Archmage is smiling at her again.
"What?"
"You admit that I'm right"
"How-?" Karliah narrows her eyes, "you're reading my mind aren't you? Can you even do that?"
The Archmage merely laughs, tossing back her head, red hair swinging pleasantly. "I don't need telepathy to read the expressions on your face, sourpuss"
The smile is infectious, and Karliah smiles as well, just a little bit. It's enough for the Archmage to notice, and she smiles brighter. "Alright," Karliah admits, "I apologize for my behavior, and I'm sorry I tried stealing Azura's Star."
"And?"
"You are not…altogether unpleasant company" Faintly blushing, Karliah sips her wine. "And stop smiling! You'll get no more out of me"
There are more jobs, more minds to sneak into; planting ideas and stealing information. The days go by and it becomes routine. Karliah wakes up, usually late, and does whatever she wants to around the college. Generally reading in the Arcanaeum and talking with Burgluk. She avoids most of the other mages, as their curiosity at her relationship with the Archmage is more than a little irksome. Occasionally she is consulted for her expertise on Illusion magic, which is a strange but not unwelcome anomaly. It is disconcerting, re-acclimating to life in a community.
At early evening she goes to the Archmage's chambers, they adjourn to the main hall, and they sneak into another mind; one each day. At first it seems harmless, but their actions have wide-reaching effects.
Messengers bring news of the civil war: it calms down, then rages, and then it sort of wobbles into an uneasy peace. Leaders of Skyrim's cities miraculously become more tolerant; Ulfric Stormcloak is letting the Dunmer out of the Grey quarter. The belligerent turn kind and the docile become restless. It is a delicate game they are playing, and it makes Karliah more than a little nervous, but the Archmage guides her with the calculated confidence of a master chess-player. It reminds her of Gallus on some days.
"The leaders of this land with their ruddy politics…they think they have a hand in this game of thrones, but I see the entire board, and I control everything. Thanks to you, Karliah. It's all thanks to you."
Each night the Archmage invites her to dinner to celebrate the day's successes. The Archmage tells stories of her adventures, and Karliah listens, usually in stubborn, but enraptured silence. The atmosphere at these affairs gradually becomes less tense, and over time Karliah finds herself becoming more and more comfortable in the Archmage's company.
She is not sure if they are friends.
"I used to walk these lands all year 'round," the Archmage confides after a night of a little too much celebratory drinking, "people would line up to tell me aaaaall about their problems! Dragonborn, a gang of trolls are terrorizing my house! Dragonborn, a group of bandits is holed up in such and such a cave! Fetch me this! Deliver that!" she slams her goblet of mead, an unusual choice for her, on the table.
"Did you know…" her head dips low, and she's hunched over for a little while before languorously sitting up again, "did you know that when I first went to Markarth I witnessed a murder? And then this kid, just this random guy off the street, he gets me involved in this city-wide conspiracy that gets him killed and me landed in jail! Before the day was done, I had killed half of my fellow inmates escaping, and when the guy who threw me in jail in the first place came to congratulate me…well, I killed him too!" She bursts into giggles.
Karliah laughs too. A drunken Archmage is an amusing Archmage.
"You have led an amazing life, Archmage"
"Hehehe…maaaybe. I'm not gonna lie, It has been pretty wild, but…" she casts a wistful look out the window, "it's like, whenever I solve a problem there are ten more replacing it. It's like I have a giant list of quests that I can never get to the bottom of…like I'm the butt of some joke that reality is playing on me." Her eyes glaze over and she speaks as if in a trance; stares at her hand as if questioning its reality. She looks imploringly at Karliah, "You know what I mean?"
Karliah feels bad when she says that she doesn't.
"Huh, well. Anyway, that's why I'm doing this. It occurred to me one day, what if I could just…change the way certain people think? For the better, y'know?" The archmage leans onto the table, resting her head on her arms
"I'd be lying if I didn't tell you that this whole business makes me uneasy…but I have to admit, you seem to know what you're doing." Silence. "Archmage?"
"I have a name you know. Call me-," she yawns, "call me…" She starts snoring. Karliah hadn't realized she was holding her breath, and is disappointed that the Archmage doesn't finish her sentence. Chuckling, she crosses to the other side of the table and brushes strands of hair out of the Archmage's face, tucking it behind an ear.
Quietly, she leaves the chamber.
"Burgluk, do you mind if I borrow Karliah for a bit?"
The librarian peers around Karliah, only to meet the gaze of the Archmage. His mouth flops open in surprise. Karliah, who had until then never seen the old Orc make an expression other than 'disapproving' or 'grumpy', turns around to look at the newcomer as well. Burgluk's surprise isn't unfounded; the Archmage is never seen walking the halls of the College in the daytime.
"By all means, Archmage," he says, rising from the table and returning to his desk.
Karliah raises a quizzical eyebrow.
"Come on, we're going to Windhelm"
"You're taking me with you?" Karliah asks, disbelieving, "Why?"
"Why not?"
"You haven't taken me anywhere before"
"Well, that changes today," she pouts, "or do you not want to?"
"No, I'll go with you," she says, climbing to her feet. It's been forever since she's been outside the College's walls.
"Excellent! Meet me at the inn in Winterhold. I forget the name…it's one of those silly tavern names…oh well, it doesn't matter. It's the only one there at any rate. Bring whatever you need, but pack light. It's going to be a long ride."
Karliah ends up wearing her leathers; she brings her bow, a quiver of arrows, and several daggers. A thick cloak is settled over her shoulders, covering her armor. The Archmage told her that she would be providing the rations, so she takes none.
She doesn't have to wait long before the Archmage rides up to her, holding the bridle for a second horse. She's decked out in the poncho of her office, which isn't saying much; it isn't very fancy. Her boots and gloves are simple leather, even her ring is a tarnished gold. The only sign of extravagance is a silver circlet with an inlet sapphire. The only visible weapon is her staff.
"Ready?"
"Yes, Archmage"
"Oh don't be so formal, around me. A simple "yeah" will suffice"
"Says the woman who doesn't tell anyone her name" Karliah doesn't mention that the Archmage had almost done exactly that the other night.
The Archmage smiles. "Come on"
The ride is long, but not terribly difficult. They take many shortcuts, cutting across forest and hill alike. It's nothing either of them aren't already used to. In time they arrive at a straight road that cuts through a forest, trees lining either side as if they intend to purposefully loom over any and all travelers. It is an ominous place. The snow makes the horizon indistinguishable from the sky, and even the trees seem to melt the landscape.
"Archmage," Karliah says, interrupting the long silence of the ride, "do you hear that?"
They both stop. The Archmage strains her ears to listen. "Hear what?" she finally asks, detecting nothing.
An arrow suddenly shoots out of the thicket. Karliah cries out a warning, dodging to the side, but the arrow wasn't for her. It hits the Archmage directly on the head; though instead of burying itself in the skull it harmlessly bounces off of the skin with an indigo spark.
Nothing happens for the next strained seconds. No more arrows are shot, though Karliah's bow is already notched, searching for a target. She spies movement. Effortlessly bringing her bow to bear, Karliah looses her arrow, launching it swiftly into the foliage.
The Archmage catches it using telekinesis.
"What are you doing?"
"Do not waste your arrows here; we still have a lot of ground to cover"
"What!? They almost killed you!"
"I didn't say they wouldn't go unpunished," to her side, a dremora lord appears in a purple swirl of arcane light. He bends to one knee for the Archmage, "they're in there" she says, gesturing into the wood, "kill all of them that are armed." He nods before unsheathing his sword and charging off into the trees. The sounds of battle ensue, followed shortly by cries of pain.
"Well then," the Archmage dismounts and takes Karliah's hands, still brandishing the bow. They slacken, and the thief allows the Archmage to help her up, "let us be on our way." The Archmage floats the arrow to her hand and deposits it into Karliah's quiver even as the sound of a man getting bisected emanates bodily from the forest.
They remount, and continue on their way.
"Will he be enough?"
"Will who be enough?"
"The dremora, there might be more bandits out there"
"I suppose if there were more than thirty bandits, our daedric friend might have some trouble, but I can see only eleven. Not nearly enough."
"How did you see them? They were hidden in the trees"
The Archmage sports a sardonic smile, "Magic, my dear, magic"
The two of them ride along in silence for a while before Karliah leans over and sucker punches the Archmage in the arm. "Your answer sucks"
The Archmage rubs her arm, laughing.
"And you should have let me shoot that arrow!"
When they finally reach Whiterun, they leave their horses at the stables and make the long walk over the stone bridge to the city proper. After pushing open the front gates, they join the milling populace of Whiterun. Immediately Karliah notices that they are attracting negative attention. Guards and citizens alike cast the Archmage dirty glances, but none of them dare to stand in her way.
"Why do they glare at you like that?"
"I am an Imperial, and a mage at that. To many a Nord, that is reason enough for hate."
"Yes, but you are the Archmage, and the Dragonborn as well. In my experience, people in prominent positions garner a breed of hate a few levels higher than typical prejudice"
"I suppose you're right." She sighs, "you know how it goes, you help some people out, and it turns out that the people who hate those people start hating you as well. It's practically algebraic."
"why are we here anyway?"
"We're here to see the fruits of our labor, dear Karliah"
"What do you mean?" They have walked to a part of town that Karliah recognizes as the rich quarter. She hasn't had much experience in this city beyond sneaking around at night, and these houses she recognizes as the ones she has sneaked into most.
"Look around us, do you see anything strange?"
Karliah sighs, "What am I supposed to be looking at?"
"You haven't been in Whiterun very much have you?"
"Can you please not do that thing where you lord over how much smarter you are than everyone else?"
"Oh very well, ruin my fun. What do you see around you?"
"Buildings. People. Lax security. I could steal from any one of these homes without using a single lockpick"
"What kind of people do you see?"
"Nords, of course. Maybe a few…" Kalriah pauses, takes a few steps, watches. "…Dunmer." Even without being familiar with the city, Karliah knows that Dunmer are sparse in the rich quarters. It is unusual that there would be so many milling about in the middle of the day.
In fact scores of Dunmer walk the streets, and Karliah can see that many of them still can't believe that they're there. She sees them talking to Nords, and though the peace is strained there is a visible effort to maintain it. She almost pinches herself when a group of guards walk by and one of them is an Argonian.
"What the hell is this?" She turns to the Archmage, "did we do this?"
"Indeed, we did"
"How?"
"Planted the idea in Ulfric's head, remember?"
"It's," she searches for the right words. It makes such little sense. So at odds is it from reality that the wonder she feels barely registers, "it's impossible"
"Ha! Not the reaction I was expecting but I'll take it"
"This is what we've been doing all this time?"
"Yes. Minimal effort, low risk…giant reward. I wanted you to see it for yourself. I wanted you to know that even though you're working against your will, it's good work"
They see an Argonian child stumble in mid-run, falling face-first in the snow. His friends laugh at him good-naturedly, harmless teasing, but his lips tremble, threatening tears. A Nord boy, walking nearby with his father takes notice, and lets go of his father's hand to help the Argonian to his feet. The father grimaces, and walks over to the children. He looks down at the Argonian, who quakes under the intense scrutiny. Eyes narrowed, he pats some snow off the boy's shoulders. "Be careful," he grunts.
He straightens, nods to his son and walks away. He wears the uniform of a stormcloak officer.
Karliah and the Archmage spend the rest of the day seeing scenes like these unfold. They take in the sights and watch the people, stepping briefly into the tavern for a quick meal. They leave at midday, and they spend the evening riding back to Winterhold. When they get back, and the time comes for them to part ways, each to their own quarters, Karliah grabs the Archmage's shoulder.
"Yes?"
"Thank you, for showing me this. Truly."
The Archmage doesn't say anything, her lips settling into a self-satisfied grin. Karliah gets embarrassed and punches her in the arm again.
"Cheeky"
"*Ahem*"
The Archmage looks up from her garden. It's the middle of the day and it's been a week since their sojourn into Windhelm. In that time Karliah and the Archmage have begun spending time with each other outside of their work, enough so that Karliah is comfortable climbing to the Archmage's tower whenever she wishes.
"Karliah," the Archmage says, getting up and removing soil-stained gloves, "this is a surprise. You've only come to my tower by your own volition to, well, to rob me."
"Don't be difficult"
"Oh very well, what can I do for you?"
"I wanted to ask you about what we've been doing"
"What about it?"
Karliah takes a deep breath, "What you're doing-"
"What we are doing"
"Er, right, what we are doing is…incredible. To change so much for the better; I can still hardly believe it. But…"
"But?"
"This power is capable of so much good, but it holds the potential for evil as well. Surely you must have thought about what would happen if the Skull of Corruption ended up in the wrong hands"
The Archmage removes her apron, she's wearing master robes today. Apparently when you're the Archmage they're the sort of thing you can afford to get dirty. "Yes, I have. But the procedure is something only I know how to do, and any notes I have made on the matter are destroyed"
"I thought as much, but that begs the question-"
"Will there ever come a time when I abuse this power?"
Karliah pauses, "yes"
"Why are you asking me this Karliah?"
"I am…concerned, for you"
"Are you?" the Archmage draws up, gazing into Karliah's eyes, searching for a sign of dishonesty. She finds none, "That's… kind of you," she finishes lamely. The Imperial then stretches out an arm; her staff rushes to meet her hand. "Do you know what this is?"
"Your staff" Karliah replies dryly.
The Archmage smiles at the obvious answer, "Well, yes, but it wasn't always my staff. It used to belong to a wizard named Magnus, I suppose you could say that he's as famous to us mages as the Gray Fox is to you thieves."
She turns it over in her hand, twirling it like a baton. She spins it artfully, swinging it in an arc, bringing it to a stop with the handle facing Karliah. Karliah takes it.
"I've no doubt that Burgluk or Faralda has told you of the circumstances under which I came to own this staff. Needless to say, at the end of the whole ordeal a group of powerful mages took away an object of great power from the college, claiming that the world wasn't yet ready for it."
She summons the Skull of Corruption to her hand, "If the time comes that I abuse the power afforded me by Vaermina's staff, I am sure that they will take it away as well. Or kill me. Either would do." She leans the artifact against the wall, and accepts the Staff of Magnus back from Karliah. She looks weary. "Anyway, I hope that answers your question. Rather irresponsible of me, I know, but we make do with what we can." She shakes her head and smiles, "was that all you needed?"
"No, there's one more thing"
"Oh?"
Karliah only fidgets once when she retrieves the box from her pouch, but it's enough for the Archmage to notice, which makes her smile and sets Karliah on edge.
"I made this for you, to thank you for showing me what you did at Whiterun."
"Oh? A gift? I don't know what to say," The Archmage holds the small box to her ear and shakes it
"Idiot! Don't do that! Just, open the damn thing would you?"
The Archmage excitedly undoes the box's strings. It's a ring, ebony. An unusual choice for jewelry, but very fetching in the pattern that it's in; it looks like a series of metallic tendrils coiling over and around each other to make a single, beautiful, black piece that swallows up the light.
"It's beautiful," the Archmage breathes, forgetting to be cheeky this one time. She slips it off its wooden tube and turns it over in her fingers.
"Wait, I have to explain a few things about it first!"
"Huh?" Too late. The metallic tendrils come undone and collapse from one ring into many thin intertwining ones.
"It's…a puzzle ring," Karliah says with a sigh, "if you channel just a little magic into it then it stays together."
"So it is. And a very complicated one at that," she holds it in the air with telekinesis. "Very fine craftsmanship, I especially like how some of them are serpents and some of them are vines. You said that you made this?"
"Stealing and fighting weren't the only Indoril arts I inherited. You should know that."
"You're right, I should. You're giving it to me?"
"If you don't want it-!" Kalriah starts, reaching for the ring.
"I never said I didn't want it!" the Archmage clutches sit to her breast like a greedy child.
They stand there for a few awkward seconds; Karliah feels like digging herself into a hole and dying right there.
The Archmage is the first to break the silence. "Thank you, Karliah, I mean it"
"Okay then," Karliah nods, her voice cracks a bit and she furiously beats down a blush, "I'll, uh, just be going then." She speeds out of the room and back to her quarters.
"Archmage, I have a few questions"
They are strolling the battlements of the college, side-by-side. It is something they do on pleasant mornings. The wind is not howling as it usually is, and the sun takes advantage of the opportunity to peek out of the clouds. They pass Brelyna on the way, and she gives Karliah an interesting little smile that Karliah decides she doesn't like.
"I will answer, if I can"
"I…" the subject is a difficult one to bring up, but its one she feels has been avoided for long enough. "You- when we first met, you told me that my…service to you would be temporary…"
"You wish to leave?"
"No! Yes! I mean- I just-!"
"Calm yourself, friend. I have restricted your movements ever since you have been here, and we both know you have certain…long-term goals, that cannot be delayed forever"
"I…Yes"
The Archmage stops walking and leans over the crenelated stone, looking out into the impressive arctic vista. She sighs. "I do not know if you have been keeping up with current events, but this past year, ever since you came to work here, we have molded Skyrim into something…more than it ever was. Problems that seemed insurmountable have been solved, and peace is establishing itself in the most unlikely regions, in the most unlikely ways." She looks to Karliah, "All because of you. It was my luck that you chose to rob me of all people that night, and I don't think I ever thanked you for that"
Karliah smiles, "It is a strange thing to thank me for"
"Perhaps." The Archmage looks away again. "You will be extremely difficult to replace, but you've more than made up for your trespass against me. I will release you from my service within the week"
"I'm sure a person of your resources can find another capable thief"
In an unusual display of affection, the Archmage brings her hand gently to Karliah's cheek, "I could never find one as skilled as you. And it isn't simply a matter of replacing you…I…."She knits her eyebrows. Karliah looks back questioningly. "I…" The Archmage quickly pulls away, "never mind."
"Is there something wrong?"
"I…no, nothing is wrong," she smiles reassuringly, but there is something else in her eyes. "Excuse me, I must make…adjustments to tonight's mission." She quickly walks to the door, leaving Karliah staring after her.
She absently realizes that the Archmage had called her a friend for the first time.
Tonight's mind is strange. Usually when she in someone's head there are scenes that reflect the person's personality. Ulfric's mind had battling soldiers, General Tullius had a vast army encampment; but this mind has nothing. Even the architecture is surprisingly realistic. There are no abstract dips or turns, no impossible staircases, no esoteric portraiture.
Before, she would just wander around the mind's structure, making her way ever upwards, until she eventually found the place of memory. The structure would always be ambiguous, but here it is clearly a tower. There is only one staircase and it goes nowhere else but up.
The most unsettling thing is the way her footfalls echo cavernously across the tower's length, even at the lightest touch. Every now and then she hears what sounds like a growl in the distance, and each she is sent into a fit of nerves.
Nevertheless, the Archmage has assured her that she would be safer here than in other mind. Like the professional she is, she sticks to her mission, steadfastly climbing the staircase. It is...long. Impossibly long. Much longer than any other mental staircase. Finally, her legs trembling, she finds herself at the chamber on the very top of the tower.
Where she sees a dragon.
It is a small dragon, but when something bigger than a dog has wings, scales, claws and the ability to breathe fire, then it's something to worry about. Karliah stands frozen at the threshold, rigid with alarm, until the dragon exhales. It sounds like a snore. Snapping out of her state, Karliah quickly tiptoes along the length of the shadowless room.
"Tonight's mind will be completely unaware of your presence, so do not worry if you cannot hide. Just remove the item and I will bring you out. Do whatever you have to do, you will be safe."
The item. The Archmage had told her that the item she needed to remove would be on the target's person. Right, the dragon's person. She and the Archmage were going to have some words when this was over. Keeping her distance, she scrutinizes the target.
Whenever she adjusts someone's mind, she does it by altering items she finds there; a burial urn can represent stubbornness, a safe can represent secrets, a tree can represent staunchness or ambition. But those are functions, things common to everyone. It is the items found on the target's person that represent the things in their life they treasure the most, and they are much less symbolic, and more truly personal; a locket, a book, a religious icon perhaps. The meaning would escape anyone but the owner, or perhaps their closest friends.
There! A ring. The dragon is wearing a ring on one of its massive, scaled toes. Claws. Whatever. It could be anything though. Would dragons even value such a thing?
She inches closer. The dragon continues to snore. Gaining confidence, Karliah steadily walks the rest of the way. She looks at the ring. It seems to be on there pretty tight. Fine, this won't be the first thing she's pried from sleeping fingers.
Bracing herself, she takes ahold of it with both hands, and tugs. It doesn't give. She tugs again. Nothing. Angry now, she pulls with all her might.
Eventually the ring comes loose, and it feels as if the very space is wrenched askew. The dragon roars awake, shaking the very air. Karliah dives away, alarmed. She bolts to the staircase and makes it down a few stairs before she finds the way submerged in water. She looks back. The dragon does not pursue her, but it is still roaring.
Hesitantly, Karliah climbs back up and enter the room. The dragon is writhing on the floor; roaring, not from anger, but from pain. Suddenly the walls around lose their monotonous appearance, crumbling away to reveal onyx-black bas reliefs depicting someone's life.
Heroic deeds. The chamber is filled with images of one woman's heroic deeds. Suddenly the chamber distends and grows astronomically wider, each story represented in sculpture, winding around the growing dome.
Here the woman is saved from execution by a black dragon. Here she is fighting hordes of undead with a gleaming sword. Here she is devastating a company of Thalmor justiciars. And here she is shouting defiance at a coven of vampires, cooking them alive with magical fire.
All of the images lead to one huge sculpture suspended at the top of the room, supported by Dremora caryatids, of the woman sinking a sword into the black dragon's neck.
Karliah looks at the dragon, heaving in pain, but no longer thrashing about. And then looks at the ring in her hands. It has shrunk and come apart. A puzzle ring.
She spies a relief of the woman catching a thief in her chamber.
Angry, Karliah stuffs the thing back onto the dragon's claw. Wings jump to enfold it, and the dragon rolls pathetically to the side, visibly relieved. The room shrinks back down to normal size and the images shrink with it, but they do not go away.
Karliah opens her eyes, back in the main hall. As always, the magicka font is illuminating everything in a wash of blue. The Skull of Corruption has clattered to the floor, as has the Archmage, resting her shoulder on one of the hall's pillars. She's shaking.
"You fool! Why did you have me go in your own mind?!" The Archmage doesn't answer her, avoiding her gaze, lips pressed tight. She is paler than usual. "Why did you make me do something that would hurt you so much?!"
"…Didn't think it would hurt…thought I could handle it"
"You idiot," Karliah brings the Archmage to her feet and helps her walk up the stairs to the her room.
When they cross the threshold the dremora move to help, but the Archmage waves them away, clutching at Karliah's vest. Karliah nods at them as she helps the Archmage hobble to her bed.
The Archmage apologizes feverishly, again and again, as Karliah tucks her in. "Don't talk. Just sleep." She brushes a strand of hair away from her face, "sleep." When the Imperial finally closes her eyes Karliah moves to draw an armchair next to the bed, and is surprised to find that one of the dremora has already done that for her.
She thanks him. Burning, stoic eyes regard her for a moment before he returns to his place. Concern is an unsettling look on a daedra.
She settles into the chair, realizes her own exhaustion, and succumbs to sleep.
"So,"
The Archmage opens her eyes. She can hear the wind howling outside, and the room is dark with the coming of the evening. It must be cold out there. Thank the gods for stone walls.
"You made a mistake," the tone isn't accusatory, not angry…is it smug?
Oh gods, is Karliah being smug? She is.
The Archmage props herself on her elbows. "Now that is a mighty claim. What gives you that idea?"
"Don't be obtuse. I know whose mind that was. It's very epic in there by the way; I'm surprised there wasn't a chorus"
"Ahem, well, I wouldn't know"
"Also, the dragon was wearing this," she holds up the puzzle-ring, "why would it be wearing this, of all things?"
"A dragon…?"
Karliah smiles at her sweetly. Karliah never smiles sweetly. "WHAT WERE YOU THINKING!?" She throws the ring at the startled mage. "YOU IDIOT!"
The Archmage cringes against the headboard.
"And why did you lie to me?! If you had let me know beforehand…well I don't know what I would do, call you an idiot maybe!" She throws her arms around the Archmage and holds her tight, burying her face in the other woman's shoulder to hide her tears, "You idiot, I thought I had killed you!"
The Archmage doesn't hug her back; it feels like she's about to, but she lowers her arms before she can complete the embrace. Karliah reluctantly backs away, "Why did you do it?"
"Please, don't make me say it-"
"Just. Say it"
The Archmage looks out the window, looking like she'd rather be anywhere else in the world. She looks at the ring in her hand, her veneer of disaffection collapsing.
"I want you," she says plainly. "I want you so much that I would sooner have the idea of you plucked from my head, rather than watch you leave"
"You did this because I was going to leave?"
A wry chuckle, "Well, I didn't think it would hurt so much"
"Because you want me?"
"I…yeah," her voice lowers and she looks away. "I love you"
"What?" Karliah freezes, her anger evaporating. Backing away, she brings a hand to her mouth, "I- I'm sorry, I-", she needs to get out of there, think things over. She never thought that…she never thought-
She runs out of the chamber leaving the Archmage alone. It's about what she expected would happen. She smiles and shakes her head, chortling at her own foolishness even as a tear runs down her face. It is followed by a few more before she forcibly quells them. She tries climbing out of the bed, intending to do anything other than think about what has just happened, anything to stave away the hurt gnawing at her insides.
But she's still too weak, and before she passes out again she hears the footsteps of dremora coming to put her back to bed.
The bags are packed and the equipment is secured. The Skull of Corruption lies behind a lattice of protective wards under her bed, and all of her treasures are guarded in the college behind the giant orichalcum door of the newly-installed magical vault. The Archmage puts her hands on her hips and assesses the arrangements for when she's gone.
"Are you sure you don't want anyone to accompany you?"
"Positive, Tolfdir. Believe me, at this point, anyone in my retinue would only get in the way"
"As you wish it, Archmage," he bows respectfully. He is a loyal Master Wizard; there should be more at the college like him. Ambitious types like Faralda always make things a bit too…complicated. She too, is there.
"Archmage, is there anything else you require?"
"Actually Faralda, there are a few things I'd like to discuss with you regarding the master destruction spells, but..." she smiles, "…that'll just have to wait until I return. Otherwise, don't kill Nirya, no matter how much you may want to, and don't let anyone pick on Collete too much. Understood?"
The high elf smiles innocently, "Of course Archmage, though I'm sure I've never had any sort of quarrel with Nirya in the past"
The Archmage rolls her eyes, "I'm sure"
"But why are you leaving so soon?" entreats Tolfdir, "You've hardly been here a year, the presence of the Archmage strengthens us all at the college"
A wry smile, "And for that I apologize, old friend, but I need to clear my head, and being here doesn't help"
"Erm, Archmage?"
"Yes? What is it now Faral-" the name dies on her lips as she turns to see what Faralda is looking at. There, in the middle of the chamber, as if she had teleported in, stands Karliah. Faralda looks between the two, assessing the situation, before grabbing Tolfdir by the arm and silently jostling him out of the room.
The door bangs when they exit, but neither Karliah nor the Archmage quite take notice.
"Karliah? I thought you would have left. Why are you here?"
"Do you love me?"
The Archmage's expression darkens, "Why are you here?" She repeats, "I severed our mental connection months ago, you're free"
"But you love me?"
"Gods! What do you want me to say? Yes!"
Karliah draws nearer, taking languid steps that make the Archmage hesitate. Eventually Karliah is leaning close enough over the Archmage so that the woman has to backpedal until her spine hits the edge of the bed.
"W-what are you doing?" her voice is uncharacteristically nervous.
Karliah ignores the question. The look in her eyes, the steadiness; it's unsettling. "You know how I feel about relationships, about the oath I made after Gallus died." The Archmage doesn't respond, looking up, wide-eyed, into Karliah's face. "And yet you fell in love with me anyway"
She should answer angrily, say something that isn't pathetic. But all she manages is a meek "…Sorry" of placation. Of course she knew, she had known since day one. "What are you," she swallows as Karliah draws closer, their faces only inches apart, "doing?" she asks again. Her breath hitches.
"Isn't this what you want?"
"What?"
"Isn't this what you want?" Karliah repeats, pushing the Archmage gently onto the bed.
"I thought-"
"It doesn't matter what you think, you've already made it abundantly clear how hare-brained you are. Just tell me if this is what you want."
"…..It means nothing unless you want it too," she whispers.
Karliah sighs; her breath tickles the Imperial's nose. "You…" she begins, "I had some time to think about it, and, I thought to myself, you are so remarkably intelligent, and so talented, and at the same time you're such an idiot, a sweet idiot. It...makes me want to do anything for you."
Looking her in the eyes, she gently brings her lips to the Archmage's. They're wonderfully soft, and as the Archmage moans she keeps the kiss gentle, lingering for long enough that the Archmage is still adorably kissing air when she draws away.
Karliah takes ahold of the Archmage's lapels, pulling them open to reveal her collarbones. Leaning down, Karliah kisses the space between them, eliciting a gasp. "So tell me, what do you want me to do for you?" she whispers, unlacing the Archmage's shirt.
"Don't do this out of pity," the Archmage murmurs, "don't-" she's interrupted by another of her own gasps as Karliah kisses the flesh between her breasts.
"Never," Karliah whispers. She pushes aside the fabric of the shirt, revealing two perfect breasts heaving with the Archmage's every breath. It is probably not the right time to ask if this is glamour magic.
Karliah hasn't had many lovers, the only memorable one being Gallus, and he was very attentive. Karliah takes her cues from him, delighting as the Archmage gasps and wriggles under her every kiss, unable to help curling her legs and pushing them out again, jostling the sheets. The Archmage's breath catches with pleasure when Karliah takes a nipple in her mouth and nibbles it.
The Archmage arches her back in pleasure, pushing her breast further against Karliah's mouth and tongue. "Gods, Karliah." The thief presses her hands against either breast, massaging them gently at first, but then applying some roughness, taking the nipples in between her fingers, pulling them, and letting them go. She gets more enjoyment from watching them bounce back into place than she thought possible.
But the greatest pleasure is how vulnerable the Archmage is. The normally imperious woman quivering like a schoolgirl at her every attention; "I've barely started and you're already... How long have you wanted this?"
"Karliah please…" that's all the thief needs to keep going.
Smiling, she rips open the rest of the shirt, revealing a creamy waist. With nimble hands, Karliah undoes the pants, slithering them down the Archmage's long legs and popping them off along with her boots.
"Now then," Karliah whispers, kissing the Archmage again, unable to believe how pliable the woman is, "let's really get started."
"I like it when you're like this"
"When I'm like what?"
"Weak, vulnerable, self-conscious. It's what endeared me into coming back"
"Oh shut up"
"Yeah, you're usually much more…unreal"
"I honestly don't know how to respond to that"
Karliah buries her nose into red hair. It has been too long since she has gone without a lover, a true lover. "Then don't. Just enjoy what we have right now." She kisses the back of the Archmage's neck. Karliah enjoys being the big spoon.
"Mmmm, this is nice" the Archmage cuddles into the embrace.
Karliah delights in the sensation. "It jut occured to me," she says, "that you never told me your name"
The two of them luxuriate in each other's presence, forgetting the things that need getting done and things they plan to do. Long after Karliah has fallen asleep, the Archmage gently scratches the back of her head; she is the dragonborn. Anything Karliah needs, she'll deal with it. She remembers Mercer Frey, grinning in the memory hearth, and her eyes narrow. The eyes in the Skull of Corruption glow in the corner.