~D~
XXXVII. Heir to the Dragonblood
(Vahriik wah faal Sossedov)
Not long after the Oblivion Crisis, Zin had taken up residence in the Imperial City. Her goal had originally been to help rebuild. Over time, however, it had evolved into something more than that. In the midst of her assistance, she'd become an influential woman in the area, recognized for her magickal talents, and had even acquired some wealth. Currently, she owned a resplendent house in the city complete with a garden open to the sky. The ice mage had even created some ties with the courts of Cyrodiil. Her biggest ties had come with her support of the Legion during the Thalmor siege of the city, in which she'd fought back several groups of plundering elven soldiers, rallying the remaining fighters and protecting more helpless citizens until the empire had managed to reclaim their lost seat of power.
And it had not been lost on her that even though centuries had passed since the day Martin Septim died to defend Tamriel from Mehrunes Dagon, the empire had never truly recovered. It suffered without a legitimate, dragonblood leader, which was why she and Miraak had put so much effort into tracking down another one...without any luck.
Until now, that is.
Zin allowed that thought to stay with her as she glanced at Miraak sitting across from her. He'd arrived not long ago. They were both in the garden at a table. Between them were several books and papers scattered about that he'd brought - old parchments with dates, names, family bloodlines - anything that could help in their efforts to track down a dragonborn.
"This should please you," Zin almost smiled as she said it.
Miraak looked at her curiously, narrowing his eyes.
She continued, "I used the information you gave me a while back on the dragonborn bloodline, and I've finally tracked down a potential emperor... Or empress, if you will. She is a soldier, trained to fight by the Legion itself...unfortunately, she's not exactly popular."
"What do you mean?" Miraak asked.
"She joined the rebellion. She serves as an officer for the Stormcloaks."
Miraak scowled in confusion. "The what?"
"Nordic rebels," Zin explained. "They oppose the Thalmor and the empire's treaty. She is respected within the rebel ranks, and as far as I have researched - she is a great warrior."
"Thalmor," Miraak spat. "Elves with little concern for anything but themselves. They would open the gates of Oblivion themselves if they could if it ensured that no one would ever interfere with their power..." He picked another book and begin flipping through its pages. He leaned back a little, voice careless when he spoke, "We need a true Dragonborn, Zin. The empire is weak... We need a person of great strength...not merely a soldier. We need an arcane warrior, a mage...a person of such skill, that they could have been a dragon priest for the old Order. Ideally, they should be a warrior, a mage, a Tongue, and a person of worthy character."
Zin sat the papers down and folded her arms. "Did it occur to you that you might have to lower your expectations? If we find her, we can teach her the truth of her powers. She'll learn to Shout and use magicka...in time. Imagine it for me, will you? We can help her become the empress that is needed. If we present one of the dragonblood to the Elder Council. They cannot refuse."
Miraak exhaled, closing the book. "And this woman would be our answer to the chaos in the world? To the Thalmor? To Alduin? To every other threat that will come after them?" he finally asked. "You believe that she has the potential?"
"Yes," Zin said. "All evidence points that the dragonblood is strong in her. Even if no one realizes it...yet. Very few even remember what dragonborn truly are... We can remind them. We could teach her, contact the Greybeards-"
"Greybeards!" Miraak snorted. "Old men Shouting to the sky?"
"They would legitimize her claim in the eyes of many!" Zin snapped. She fought her annoyance, trying to remind herself that Miraak had been disconnected from this world for so long, that he'd likely forgotten how politics worked... No matter how old he became, he still wanted to shove his way to victory...like a dragon. "Miraak, we must find out for ourselves before we dismiss her. Let us meet her in person."
Miraak shrugged, muttering, "As if we have much choice." Louder, he declared, "Let us find this woman, and see if she has what it takes to make the empire glorious again." though his voice sounded as if he were unconvinced. "Stormcloaks," he scoffed. "What kind of title is that?"
"The one you use when you glorify your leader," she replied, standing. "That is - Ulfric Stormcloak."
The first dragonborn was incredulous. "Really? According to you, if I had a following of servants, and they glorified me, then they'd call themselves..." He frowned when he said his next words. "Miraaks? That is ridiculous."
Zin chuckled a little and made for the door to the house. "The world is a bit different than the one you knew, Miraak."
Miraak was beginning to regret agreeing to Zin's request. So far, Skyrim was just as harsh as he remembered, even with the amount of time that had passed. The snow-ridden wind whipped by them constantly until their fancy, Cyrodiil-born horses were reduced to huffing nags needing to rest every hour or so and their robes were frozen stiff at the edges. Even more often than their horses needing to rest were the constant wildlife attacks, creatures hoping to make an easy meal of them. Bears, wolves, chaurus, spiders, sabre cats, and even bandits would take a chance at them, only to be frozen to a statue or reduced to a pile of pure ash.
Fortunately, Miraak was not bothered by the cold, even though the attacks were a nuisance they could have done without. It was good to see that even though he had served Hermaeus for so long, he was not any worse for wear travelling this land. And I have also been able to increase the length of time in which I linger in Tamriel, he thought. It was good he was visiting so frequently. It had a positive effect on him.
Not long after the light of day dwindled, they stopped for the remainder of the night. The horses needed a long rest.
Zin crossed from where she'd just tethered their steeds. She narrowed her eyes at Miraak, who sat cross-legged upon the ground nearby. "I'm surprised that you have not had to return to Oblivion yet," she stated, depositing herself on her bedroll. She'd grown used to Miraak not needing to sleep. It had bothered her for a while when she'd first learned of it, but she'd eventually grown used to it. Due to this...ability, he'd taken it upon himself to watch for possible danger while she slept.
The ice mage went on. "I half expected to make this journey alone."
The dragonborn responded, "On my last outing, I was able to remain for two weeks before I began to weaken." He smiled wryly. He'd not worn his mask for days. Zin had noticed that he had begun to start putting it away at any opportunity he got. Perhaps that was just what he did in her presence, since he knew how much she disliked it.
He murmured, "Time is much slower here...at least, it feels like it."
"I have to wonder what Hermaeus thinks of you being here so often."
Miraak shrugged. "We do not always see eye-to-eyes, but he has no doubt of my loyalty. I do not see him caring either way. Time has no meaning for him, either."
"I don't want to live forever, Miraak," Zin admitted. "Imagine, living to see the end of time. It has been hard enduring the past several centuries, regardless of our cause." She yawned.
"You are tired," he commented.
"And you're avoiding a response to what I just said," she shot back.
He exhaled. "Perhaps you do not remember, but I made you a promise, Zin. One I fully intend to keep. I made this world a promise... I refuse to let it die to nothing, no matter how much time passes."
"You always were stubborn," she spoke quietly, yawning again.
Miraak grinned one of his rarest grins - one of true amusement. "And what would you say, my honor, if I were to tell you that we could have simply...teleported to Skyrim, but I chose not to."
She was almost too tired to feel anything but mild surprise. "Why didn't we, then?"
"Because..." he faltered, realizing he enjoyed dropping his guard. His smile deepened, if possible. "Because this takes longer. I prefer lingering on Nirn...and I wanted to travel with you. One of my fondest memories from my past was when Ahzidal, Zahkriisos, you and I all traveled after that fight with Hevnoraak. It was one of my worst, yet best, moments. It was a moment that changed everything...for the better, mostly thanks to you."
"I see," she said now, grinning back. "You're about to ask for something, with this flattery."
He chuckled. "Indeed. Two things, actually," He scooted closer. He seized her hands and looked her squarely in the eyes. He whispered, "first one - will you help me escape from Apocrypha?"
Her features shifted. The look on her face made it obvious that she had not expected that. "Escape?" She sounded dubious. "You want to defy Hermaeus Mora? I know you mentioned it once before, but it's been so long..."
He nodded. "Yes. Unfortunately, I've found that I cannot do it alone. I have spent these last few centuries carefully looking into all of the possibilities, so as not to be caught."
Zin searched his eyes for a few moments. "How could you escape?" She asked, sounding dubious.
"As I said, I've been doing some research. It would require an incredible amount of power, but I know how to obtain it. I'll need your aid. I've been a fool in many things, Zin, but I know I can do this. There is one more trial I must undertake after this, and then, I will make it all clear to you."
She tightened her grip on his hands. "Fine, Miraak. I am not sure if this will succeed, but if you are willing to try, then so am I. It's obvious you've been thinking about this for some time."
"Since the beginning," he replied. He found himself again feeling such warmth in her presence. "For so long, I wanted to reach you. I wanted to return to fulfill my destiny, but that was taken from me. Ever since I learned I could bring you back, I knew I could regain what had been lost. And when I have escaped, when I have given the world a dragonborn ruler, I can finally find peace in the afterlife." His face became serious. "I always imagined that if you were given the chance to start over again, then you would."
"I would," she responded. "I will bring you home, if it is in my power...my love."
"Good," he murmured. "Good."
"What was the second thing you wanted to ask for?"
Miraak was dead serious now. "A kiss."
She stared at him a moment before she leaned forward and gave him what he wanted.
Windhelm was as unforgiving as Miraak remembered. The stone walls were crumbling in their age, and the layers of snow and ice accumulated on it did nothing to help. The air was so cold, their breaths plumed almost constantly. The ancient bridge he and Zin strode up was weathered to the point that its carvings were almost beyond recognition, and the soldiers donned in blue armor at the entrance gave them hard, unwelcoming looks through their helmets.
"More recruits?" One of them asked the other.
"Probably. Ain't no other reason to come to this ice-cube," the other responded. "You there, outsiders," he addressed the two. "This is the city of the Stormcloaks - cause any trouble, and you'll find yourself in the dungeons faster than a you can say, 'sorry'. If you are here because you wish to overthrow oppression, then you are welcome."
Miraak mentally scoffed. Even if his intentions in Windhelm were less than noble, these guards wouldn't have been able to stop him. It was lucky for them he wasn't here to cause trouble.
"We're looking for a Stormcloak officer," Zin stated. "Perhaps you can help."
"Most officers are out there," gestured the guard vaguely out at the landscape. "Besides that, why should I tell you? You could be a spy, for-"
Zin plowed on, "her name is Evesel Ice-Blood."
The reaction from the guards was immediate. Their hands flew to their weapons, and the first guard approached Zin threateningly. "That traitor?" He spat. "What do you know of her?!"
"Traitor?" Zin echoed.
"Yes. But if you didn't already know that, you'd best be on your way."
Miraak sighed and muttered, "Gol hah..." The golden light of the thu'um washed over the guards, who instantly lost their defensive postures. "Tell us about Evesel," The dragonborn commanded.
The first guard began speaking in a dull voice. "She deserted a year ago. There were rumors that she ran off with a Thalmor mage, but they were unconfirmed."
Miraak looked at Zin. "Why are we just now hearing of this?"
"I...I don't know," Zin responded, returning his gaze, uncertainty in her eyes. "My research indicated that she was still with the Stormcloaks."
"It mostly was swept under the rug," the second guard stated in the same monotone. "Ain't nobody here who wanted to think of Evesel dishonored. Everyone remembered a time when she was a true Nord... That, and if she'd actually been captured and executed, her treachery may have been more widely-known, as an example."
"Are there any leads?" Zin asked.
The other shook his head. "Not that I know of. If it exists, such confidential information would be kept by those at the top. Jarl Ulfric and his top lieutenant, Galmar Stone-Fist."
Miraak said, "Let us find the leader and convince him to hand over this info."
He marched into the city, not even bothering further with the enthralled guards. They stood blankly at their posts, never protesting. Zin followed the dragonborn through the towering gates as he made for the palace. "Wait, Miraak," she said. "From what I've heard of Ulfric, he's even more of a stubborn mule than you are."
Miraak was unperturbed, saying, "Then I'll just use Bend Will."
"Would you allow me to try a more...diplomatic approach?" Zin demanded. "That Shout is almost as uncanny as your raise-people-from-the-dead Shout."
"We can do this your way... but it'll take longer." They entered the Palace of the Kings, where the hallway was just the way Miraak remembered them. "Same hallway...different banners," he mused.
"You've been here before?" she asked.
"Yes," Miraak replied. "That was a long time ago, though."
They walked down the chamber.
A man stood before the currently empty throne. He wore armor made of steel and bearskins, and his face was scarred, aged, weathered. He was a large man, looking as if he might be capable of killing a bear with just his empty hands. When he spoke, it was in a rough, gravelly voice that annoyed Miraak.
"Who are you to approach the Throne of Windhelm?" he demanded.
Miraak was reminded of a growling guard dog. This is surely Galmar Stone-Fist. He wanted to just get the answers, and be done with it. Still, he waited for Zin's "diplomacy". It must've been an unfortunate habit she'd picked up from the Imperial City.
"I wish to speak to Jarl Ulfric," she stated calmly.
The man folded his muscular arms. "Why's that?"
"I was told that he could help me find someone," she said. She smiled and continued with a persuasive tone, "It's a personal matter."
Miraak didn't understand why she wouldn't just let him bend this man's will. It'd certainly be less time-consuming. And easier.
Galmar stared at her for several moments, as if trying to decide whether she was lying or not. At length, he huffed. "Well, I'll go ask him if he's in the mood for a chat. Don't get your hopes up, girl."
"Girl?" Zin asked Miraak when the man left the room. "I'm surely five times his age!"
The dragonborn scowled. "He is a disrespectful-" He halted his line of speech. "Bend Will would be much more useful here."
Not long after he had spoken those words, Ulfric Stormcloak entered the room. He was tall, taller than the man they'd first encountered, if not quite as muscular. His face was angular, hardened, framed with dark brown hair. His eyes gleamed intelligently, and he stared at them both with a mixture of curiosity and suspicion. He crossed the room, sitting upon his throne to stare down upon them in an almost arrogant manner.
"I do not receive many visitors directly," Ulfric started, "so you must forgive Galmar if he came across as rude. He is not a very patient, or well-mannered man, but he is a fine soldier, and has a good heart." He gestured. "What are your names?"
Miraak had been expecting this man to be even worse than Galmar, but so far, he sounded at least a little reasonable. Still, there was something about Stormcloak that made him wary. Perhaps it was the gleam of the man's eyes, the tilt of his head, the position of the lines of his face, the set of his jaw. Or perhaps it was none of these things. All he knew for sure, was that he didn't care for the way he felt, and that Zin's methods would most likely fail. He was beginning to wish he'd done more research on Ulfric Stormcloak himself. In fact, he should have learned of Evesel, too. It was a novice mistake on his part.
It won't happen again.
"I am..." Zin started, "...Ysalla...and this is...Gyeundere."
Miraak almost frowned at that absurd name, but caught himself in time.
"Jarl Ulfric, I have been searching for someone," she continued quickly, "someone I knew, and I was told only you might know what became of her... She joined your numbers, but I do not know where she is amongst them."
Ulfric stood up. "Do not insult my intelligence, Ysalla. I can tell when a person is lying...or withholding information. Tell my why you lie, and I may yet let you walk away."
"GOL HAH!" Miraak Shouted impatiently.
Ulfric froze, slowly sitting down again.
Zin scowled, casting a glance at the dragonborn. "Miraak. Why did you do that?"
He shrugged. "I'm growing bored of this, and I didn't like the way he was speaking to us." He was on edge. Ulfric Stormcloak was obviously not a man to be trifled with. Miraak wasn't even sure how Zin had expected to get their information with her methods after being caught so quickly in her lie.
She muttered under her breath, folding her arms in resignation.
"Tell us about Evesel Ice-Blood," Miraak commanded.
"She deserted us a year ago," Ulfric droned out. "I had ordered her to be tracked down... We received word recently that she was spotted in the Imperial City. I plan to send out soldiers shortly to arrest her once we have her exact location. We also were informed that Thalmor spies were located in the city, tracking her whereabouts."
"The Imperial City..." Zin actually groaned in frustration. "That's where we were!"
"Then that is where we must return," Miraak stated. He approached Zin. "There can be no delay this time. Evesel will not have much time... Perhaps it is already too late."
She almost gasped when he picked her up like it was an everyday occurence. He opened a portal with a flick of his hand, and walked through it. For a few moments, the ice mage was greeted with the green skies of Apocrypha above, swirling with countless pages and books. Huge tentacles spanned the cloudy atmosphere, and her gaze was drawn to the alien world of books and twisted metal that made up landforms in a sea of green, cloudy, slimy-looking liquid.
Before she could say anything, Miraak opened another portal, stepping into the warmth of Cyrodiil on a Second Seed night. Zin could hear the crickets chirping and the locusts singing, while torchbugs hovered in the air, giving off a lazy, green glow. The Imperial City sat bright upon the horizon.
Miraak put her down, moving forward.
"That was...incredible," Zin said after him, "and strange."
"Unfortunately," Miraak responded, "going through Apocrypha is the only way to properly use that power. And it's still not instantaneous. Night fell while we were in Oblivion."
"Then we must hurry."
They hastened forward, the calm night belying their concerns.
To learn where exactly Evesel resided, they had to ask around. After wasting precious time that they couldn't get back, they gained the information and made for their destination with speed. When they arrived at the house, the sight that greeted them was an ominous one. The door had been busted down, its boards strewn on the street in chunks of wood and splinters. Dark burns lined the outer walls, and the house was pitch black within. Miraak caught the scent of drying blood, feeling his gut flip. There was dragonblood amongst it, he knew. It had to be Evesel's blood. The scent of it was still strong, which meant it'd been spilled recently. He pulled his powerful mask to his face in case there was an ambush awaiting them.
A magickal ball of white light drifted from his palm, bobbing over his head. He drew his sword and entered the house. He held the blade before him, but all was silent. There were several scorch marks upon the walls along with arcs of blood. The crimson was drying on the broken furniture, as well. Zin exhaled sharply. This place didn't look like the inside of a house; it more closely resembled a miniature war-zone.
Miraak lowered his weapon, defeat rising in his chest. Again, we're too late.
Then, he heard the sound. It rasped out, faint.
"Did you hear that?" Miraak asked.
Zin nodded, raising her staff.
The noise sounded again. He shifted his light and hurried down a hallway similarly painted in blood, Zin close behind. He entered the next room, which seemed to have taken the worst of the fight. A woman lay upon the floor amidst the broken debris, a deep gash across her shoulder and torso. There were several other minor wounds on her hands, and a large burn on her face. Blood seeped out of her body steadily, and a large pool of crimson had collected upon the floor beneath her. A broken longsword lay beside her. Her eyes were unfocused as she stared at the ceiling.
"Evesel?" Zin asked, dropping her staff. "Evesel, is that you?" She pushed forward to kneel beside the former Stormcloak.
Evesel choked some more, hand flexing. She turned her head, through great effort. Her gaze met Zin's. "Who...?" She coughed again.
"Shhh..." Zin whispered. "I'm here to help..."
"Is... Is... Jyrath..." she choked, spitting scarlet. "J-Jyrath..."
"Who is Jyrath?" Zin asked. 'I don't understand."
"My..." Her eyelids closed. "The journal...in...the desk..." she gasped, "...explains. I hope Talos...forgives...my mistakes... How could...they...welcome me in Sovngarde...after what I've done?"
"Her wounds are too severe," Miraak stated. "She's lost too much blood. We cannot heal her."
"I'm certain you will be forgiven," Zin assured her.
Evesel exhaled, her breath rattling. She breathed no more.
"Is it possible Jyrath is the Thalmor she supposedly ran off with?" Zin asked. "Perhaps that journal she mentioned will tell us."
"That doesn't sound like an elven name," Miraak responded, sheathing his weapon. "It sounds Nordic."
They heard a rustling from the other side of the room. They both looked at each other before moving toward it. The noise had originated from a large cabinet against the far wall that had remained surprisingly intact. Miraak yanked it open. A cry of alarm emitted from within. His magicka illuminated a boy huddled in the darkness inside, fear on his face. The former dragon priest stared at the boy, who stared back with wide eyes. They were bright, amber eyes, and his ears were pointed, but his skin was pale.
Miraak blinked. Half elf, half man? He thought incredulously. "What is your name, boy?"
"J-Jyrath..." stammered the frightened child.
Miraak did not like the conclusions he was drawing.
"We're not here to hurt you," Zin said softly.
"She's dead...isn't she? Mother's dead!" the boy gasped, seeming to shrink down even more. "I was too afraid to look..."
"Find the journal," the first dragonborn told Zin. "We need to make sense of this."
She stood and left the room.
"You said you are Jyrath?" Miraak asked.
"Y-yes. Who are you?"
"My name is..." he started, and then muttered, "it doesn't matter." He won't even know me after tonight, he thought.
The boy merely stared in response, expression uncertain.
Zin returned shortly, holding the leather-bound pages before her. She spent several minutes reading through them before concluding, "Apparently, Evesel did desert the Stormcloaks to be with an elf named Kaeyon, a Thalmor mage... She and Kaeyon met in the Great War, and she wound up carrying his child...but Evesel didn't want to have a half-elven son. She thought it dishonorable, at the time, so she dumped him at the orphanage...only to re-adopt him about a year ago out of regret. Jyrath is that son."
Miraak exhaled sharply. "Fools!" he snarled.
The boy jumped.
He ranted, "Foolish mortal men and women with their desires and petty fears and regrets! They have ruined any hope of saving the empire!" Miraak gestured at Jyrath, derisively snorting, "As if this...half-breed could ever be emperor of Tamriel!" He turned and stormed out of the house.
"Stay here," Zin whispered to the boy and then chased after Miraak. "What are you doing?!" she demanded. "What is your problem?!"
He spun around after exiting the house, speaking with irritation, "I have searched for the heir to my bloodline for hundreds of years... Nearly a thousand. Too long. They're either not strong in the blood, or I am too late to help them."
"If you're so angry about it, why don't you go resurrect her?"
Miraak glared and shook his head. "So that she may be killed again? No. She is too weak. I will not use that Shout so carelessly."
"And what about the boy? He may yet be potent with the dragonblood! We cannot dismiss him so quickly."
"He is half elf, Zin!" The first dragonborn retorted. "No one in this land would exalt a half-elven leader. He is useless to this endeavor! To us!"
"Well, I'm not ready to give up!" Zin returned heatedly. "He is all that's left of your bloodline. We need him."
"We do not," Miraak growled. He lowered his voice, and it sounded purposeful. His eyes shone with cunning. "When I escape Apocrypha, Zin, only then, will we crown an emperor. Not before."
Zin shook her head, turning away. "I'm taking the boy with me, Miraak. Whenever you think your plan is ready, return. In the meantime, this boy will grow into the leader you wanted."
When she turned back, Miraak was gone. She let out an angry huff and spun back to the house. She saw the boy standing not far within, hiding in the shadows, peering at her with his eyes still wide. "It's going to be okay," she told him softly. "It is going to be okay." She tried not to let Miraak's words get to her, but in the end, she knew he was right. No one would allow a half-Altmer to rule them, no matter how much dragonblood he had.
One plan thwarted after another. Where do we go from here?
"Mother is dead..." Jyrath whispered. "I didn't know her for very long...and now she's gone... Who was that angry man?"
"No one important at the moment," Zin returned. "Come on, we need to arrange a funeral for your mother. Do you know where your father is?"
The boy hesitated. "He... The elves took him."
Zin wondered if the reason the boy was so calm was because he was in shock. "We'll figure this out," she assured him, but he was now staring blankly at the wall, seeming to have lost focus.
The ice mage felt herself become agitated again. It's just like Miraak to leave me to clean up this mess...
.
A/N - No dovahzul to translate.
Boom, plot twist! Weren't expecting that, were you? ;)