A/n: It's happening.
There's a bit of adult conversation in the second section, but nothing terribly explicit. It follows with this fic's content rating, so I'd just suggest to not read it at work.
Corrections are the usual.
Could be messy. But change is never pretty. - Wulf
The rest of their walk to Whiterun was thankfully – mercifully – uneventful. Neloth didn't bring up any of the awkwardness of Winterhold; nothing about her dream, Keening, her talk with Ancano, nor the awkward altercation with the head of the Justiciars.
Mehra knew she ought to come clean with Neloth and at least tell him that she and Erich were –
She didn't even know what they were trying to do. And, if she were honest with herself, she didn't even know what she was trying to do with Neloth. For his part, Neloth didn't say anything to her about things, so she figured that she might as well keep quiet on the matter. If he wasn't bothered, then she wasn't either.
No; she was bothered a bit. Mehra hated leaving stuff be when it got to a certain point.
She sighed and stared up at the big, wooden city on the hill. They were nearing the point where things bothered her. Her lack of finding an Elder Scroll made her feel restless, and everything else in her life felt similarly urgent. After all, she and the rest of the world could be living on borrowed time.
Mehra sneaked a glance at Neloth as they made their way up the path toward Whiterun. Would she have regrets if she stayed silent?
"Lady Thane! Welcome!"
She jumped in surprise and quickly smiled and waved at the guard who called out to her. Now really wasn't the time to dwell on these sorts of things; she had to make sure that Neloth was welcomed appropriately to her new home.
Mehra looped her arm around his – a bit unnecessary, given the crowd always parted wide for her – and led him up the street to her home. With each step, a new person gave her a small bow and greeted her by her title. Some even went as far as welcoming 'Sir Wizard' to their great city.
When they arrived at Breezehome, Mehra opened the door and quickly ushered Neloth inside. A brief glance around the house revealed that not much changed in her absence, save a lone book on the wicker chair in front of the hearth.
"A decent home for an individual in a crowded city," Neloth mused. "Not appropriate for a Master Wizard, of course."
Mehra watched his gaze land on the overflowing kitchen table that served as her study.
"We share organizational habits," she said.
He chuckled under his breath. "You need at least six more tables."
Mehra laughed and approached the book on the chair. "That I do," she admitted.
She peered down at the book and her heart warmed. It appeared that Lydia was reading about the Three. While she didn't expect her to convert, she was more than happy to find that her Housecarl took her religion seriously and wanted to know more about it.
Turning her gaze away from the book, Mehra held her hand out to Neloth.
"Let me get your bag," she said. "I'll put it upstairs, then we can go to the Jarl. Do you need anything?"
He gave her a perplexed look. "You do not have a Steward for these things?"
"I have a Housecarl," she replied. "They are guards assigned to the Thanes or the Jarl. I travel so much, though, that I told Lydia she shouldn't stay here all the time. I don't care if that's unconventional; I can't have a Housecarl getting stir-crazy."
"But, no Steward."
Mehra shrugged. "I don't have a lot of affairs to manage. I imagine that if I had a Steward, they'd get bored rather quickly."
"Fair enough," he replied. "It is frugal, as well. I have seen young Masters end up in financial trouble from thinking they can live like a King. One must hoard wealth in order to spend it."
He did not hand his bag to her. Instead, Neloth followed her up the stairs to the bedroom, looking around as if the house held secrets.
As they stepped into the bedroom, Mehra found herself grateful that she at least had a double bed. Having sex against the dresser in the tavern the night before, while adventurous, wasn't the most comfortable. Maybe the bed would give them a change of pace.
Mehra swung her bag from her back and placed it in the far corner of the room. She hoped for–
She fought the urge to sigh. Mehra wasn't sure what she hoped for, and there was the problem with the whole thing.
"Interesting," Neloth mumbled.
He dropped his bag next to hers, left the room, and stopped in front of the open-space window that was cut into one of the eaves of he house. Throwing the shutter open, he peered out the window and nodded to himself.
"Got an idea?" Mehra asked.
Neloth nodded again and stroked his beard.
"Could work," he murmured. "Space behind the structure is relatively clear."
He turned to her and crossed his arms. "Are you paying off the person who owns the shack behind you?"
Mehra pursed her lips. "She died. I bought the plot outright."
"Excellent," he said. "That gives us options."
She nodded quietly and peered out the window. Mehra hoped that Olava wouldn't have minded her buying her plot and using it to grow a tower. While she wasn't superstitious, she believed in doing right by people as best she could.
"We ought to go to the Jarl now," Mehra said. "His Steward, Proventius, has helped with finding builders who can carve out the doorways."
Neloth nodded. "Locally sourced, I presume?"
"Yes."
"Then we must instruct them to do their work with prudence," he replied. "Regardless, it is unlikely that anyone outside of Telvanni lands would have a clue as to our unique construction materials. I believe we can forgive their ignorance. Agreed?"
Mehra shook her head and snorted. "Of course. And I believe Proventius will have hired some of the most skilled craftsmen in the hold; I don't think we have too much to worry about."
She motioned for him to follow and began to descend the stairs.
"I will admit that their kind are fair in their craftsmanship," Neloth said. "Detailed and disciplined, unlike the lazy Imperials who merely borrow techniques."
Mehra rolled her eyes. "I'm not going to comment on racial disparity. Folks are folks."
"I certainly wouldn't expect you to," Neloth replied, "given your occupation."
She opened the door, ushered him out to the street, and linked arms with him once again. "Professional ass-saver?" she drawled.
"Crude, but accurate. It is my hope that, in time, you shall become a professional Master Wizard, as is your status."
Mehra nodded in agreement. She longed for the day when she could study more of the mysteries of magic.
But, what was she without a sword? What would she do without the open road at her feet and the wind at her back? Was this the only life she could imagine?
The only other person who experienced such things became a god. Surely Erich didn't think of his past life in the same terms as she did her own.
Mehra supposed she'd find out when the end of her adventure came, if she survived it. Briefly, she wondered what the point was in growing her own tower if it could be destroyed in a matter of months, but quickly squashed the notion.
It was worth it for the sake of the moment, if nothing else.
Together, Mehra and Neloth climbed the stairs that led up to the Cloud District. As soon as the changed Gildergreen came into view, she felt Neloth laughing under his breath.
"Yeah, I know," she mumbled.
"Oh, I know that you know," he chuckled. "I would like to take a moment to inspect this, if you don't mind."
Mehra glanced up at Jorrvaskr to see Aela standing at the top of the stairs, a perplexed look on her face. Figuring she ought to catch up with her, she gave Neloth a nod.
"Sure," she said. "I've got someone to catch up with."
Neloth grunted and waved her off. Mehra shrugged and made her way across the sparsely populated courtyard. When Neloth had a discovery or interest of some sort, he was always short with people; Mehra figured it wasn't so much that he was bothered, so much as that he was very much absorbed in what he was doing.
As she ascended the stairs to Jorrvaskr, Athis stepped out of the building, gave her a warm smile, then startled at the sight of the foreign-looking wizard underneath the Gildergreen.
Mehra stopped at the top of the stairs. Aela stepped forward and drew her in for a quick hug – something she rarely shared with others.
"It has been a while, Sister!" she smiled. "How are you?"
Mehra exhaled and thought of the trouble at Winterhold. "As good as could be expected, I suppose."
"Well met, Sister," Athis said.
"Hello, Brother," she replied.
Aela glanced past her, watching as Neloth circled around the Gildergreen.
"So, who is that?" she asked. "He's carrying your staff."
"Master Wizard Neloth," Mehra replied, "House Telvanni."
"Your teacher? The one helping you build the tower?"
"Yeah," she said. "Well, kind of."
Aela narrowed her eyes and looked at Neloth. "Then why were you hanging off of his arm?"
Mehra chuckled; nothing could get past Aela. "We're – something. Lovers, but not – not actually lovers."
Athis visibly bristled and Mehra shrugged it off. He should have made a move, then. In the beginning, everyone treated her like a child. However, as soon as people knew who she was, they treated her like she was too good for them. Neloth didn't care who she was; she didn't pester him, and this was why their arrangement worked, simple as that.
Aela humphed and crossed her arms. "Does he fight, though?"
Athis bit his lip, failing miserably at holding back a laugh. The idea of a wizard fighting was likely a good joke, to him. But, Mehra knew better.
"I haven't seen him fight," she admitted. "But, I imagine it would be magnificent. I do not know of a more powerful wizard who is still alive."
Athis sobered immediately.
"So," he mumbled, "that's what thousands of years old looks like?"
Mehra nodded. Aela looked less impressed.
"Fascinating," Athis said. "I shall take my leave, then. I hope your tower building adventure goes smoothly, Sister. And I hope your guest enjoys Whiterun."
"Thank you, Athis."
With that, he turned and left for the training yard. They stood in silence for a moment, until Aela tore her gaze from Neloth back to Mehra.
"Be wary of a teacher who will have an affair with a student," she frowned.
Mehra shrugged. "Neloth is one of the few men who could handle me, title and all."
Aela considered this for a moment, then nodded. "Sounds stuffy to me, but even legends need a bit of warmth, I suppose, no matter where it comes from. What about that Erich fellow?"
Mehra sucked in a breath. "That's complicated," she sighed. "I love him dearly, but it's not in a 'marry me and be with me forever' kind of way."
"Insanity?" Aela mumbled.
"Yeah," she sighed. "He's insane."
Aela nodded. "Well, it is no business of mine," she said, "but a bit of advice: be forthright with both. Don't be hurtful."
"Yes, Sister," she replied.
She needed to have a talk with Neloth – about a lot of things. Mehra dreaded the moment.
"Speaking of being forthright," Aela sighed, "I suppose now is the time when I ought to tell you that I have made a pass at your Housecarl."
Mehra raised a brow. "Oh?"
"I – I asked her to go hunting," she mumbled. "Does she like women? Is this a mistake?"
"I don't know," Mehra admitted. "But I can find out for you – uh, subtly, I hope."
Aela nodded. "I want you to know, though, that if she's not interested, I don't want to just throw a fit and say 'forget it'. Friendship is of equal value."
"I understand that completely," she said, casting a glance in Neloth's direction.
He seemed to be done with whatever inspection he wanted of the Gildergreen and waited quietly at the base of the tree.
"I should go," Mehra said. "He doesn't like waiting any more than I do."
"Understood. Good luck, Sister. Trust your instincts."
Mehra nodded. "Thanks."
Aela seemed to have an inkling of her dilemma.
Sighing, Mehra descended the stairs and approached the Gildergreen. What Aela said was true; friendship was important. Whatever she had with Neloth wasn't worth jeopardizing over her doubts. He was the only one she knew who remembered the 'old days' of Morrowind and the threat of the Blight. He encouraged her to not settle for less, even if he was a bit too upfront about it.
Neloth motioned up to the branches of the tree as she stopped in front of him.
"This will have to be a private discussion," he said. "It isn't harmful, but the origins may be."
Mehra pursed her lips. "One could maybe say that it was a whole 'house of trouble'?"
"Maybe just a single corner of one," Neloth chuckled, "but yes."
"Delightful. Knew it."
Frustrated, she motioned up to Dragonsreach. Neloth followed by her side, radiating amusement likely from the predicament of the tree. While he found it fascinating, Mehra found the whole thing excessive.
But that was Erich: excessive to a fault.
Briefly, she thought that maybe, she ought to have settled in Windhelm so he could mess with it, but quickly squashed the thought. Windhelm was a place to pass through – nothing more. Besides; Whiterun was welcoming, and Jarl Balgruuf was a fair and wise leader.
The meeting at Dragonsreach went well. Proventius had a group of workers ready to start on the construction that day, if they were ready. Though he bristled at Neloth not bowing before the Jarl, he quickly changed his tune when Irileth corrected him: one didn't typically bow to someone of the same social standing, after all.
Jarl Balgruuf took the whole thing in stride. A fellow Jarl, a Count of Cyrodiil, a Great House Councilman: all were the same to him, and he was worldly enough to accept it. He expressed an interest in seeing the tower as the construction began, with time permitting, of course.
All the while, Farengar stood off to the side, in silent awe of the Telvanni Wizard and Master Enchanter who graced Dragonsreach with his presence.
Most importantly, Neloth somehow found his decorum at the meeting, which amounted to staying silent a majority of the time.
As they left the keep, Mehra linked arms with Neloth once again. She hoped that things continued to go smoothly; once the workers came down to the site with their tools, the tower construction would begin.
They stopped in front of Breezehome, and Neloth motioned to the house.
"There are two options," he said. "The first involves demolishing this and starting fresh. The second – which I propose you choose – involves growing the tower behind the structure, and using it as an entrance to the tower proper. I presume you remember Aryon's tower, yes?"
Mehra nodded. "I do," she replied. "And I think a hybrid would be a good option. I'll give the house to Lydia so she can have a place of her own."
"It avoids the problem of renting a tavern until the construction is complete," he shrugged. "Now; do you have the soul gems?"
She pursed her lips. "In the house. Let me get them."
Neloth nodded and she dashed inside and up the stairs to retrieve the two gems from her bag. The gems and the souls inside were expensive, but worth it in saving the time collecting them. With the gems secured in her arms, Mehra jogged back down the stairs, pushed the door open with her hip, and closed it behind her with her foot.
"That was quick," Neloth said.
"I can be as quick as I'd like," she smirked.
He laughed. "Oh, I know."
Mehra knelt down and placed the gems on the small strip of grass that lined the front of the house.
"If we've got everything, then I suppose we should–"
"Get a room," a passerby grumbled.
Mehra stood and furrowed her brow in confusion. They were just talking, unless the guy overheard their flirting, she supposed.
She looked up to see Neloth casting a perplexed look over her shoulder. Frowning, she turned around to see the commotion. If it was something enough to make Neloth look, then –
Boethiah's bollocks and breasts. Seriously?
There, in the middle of the bustling street, stood Erich and Sam, sharing a pipe. Quickly, Erich leaned down to give Sam a kiss. Erich wore his usual out of style cape and huntsman gear, while Sam appeared to be dressed for a party in a bar; all black, unlaced tunic top, tight black pants tucked into a pair of knee-height boots, and a short black cape. The pipe they shared dangled from Sam's left hand, and she was quite sure that whatever was in it wasn't legal.
They parted from their kiss and exchanged a heated look before Erich righted himself – had to nearly kneel to reach Sam – and led him forward.
Slowly, they ambled up the street, arm in arm, walking so close to each other that Sam stumbled every few steps from running into Erich. After bumping into Erich one too many times, Sam stopped in his tracks, carelessly spilling ash from his pipe as he removed it from his mouth. They kissed again without a care in the world.
People stopped in their work to stare at the couple passing by; whether it was due to their overt displays of affection, the pipe they shared, or the stark difference in their appearance, Mehra couldn't tell.
If Mehra hadn't known better, she would have seen a couple deeply in love. Instead, she saw it for what it was: two intoxicated Daedra Lords having a tryst.
Eventually, they stumbled their way up to her house, the pair greeting her with devilish smiles.
"Hey Erich," Mehra said. "And hello, Sam. This is a pleasant surprise. Need something?"
That was a dangerous question to ask a Daedric Prince, much less a pair of them known for mischief. Neloth visibly winced next to her.
Sam took a drag on his pipe and exhaled a huge puff of smoke. "Everything," he answered. "Including your souls."
Erich leaned over and gave him a chiding pop on the mouth as if he were disciplining a sassy child. Scowling, Sam batted his arm away, finally giving in when Erich's arm wrapped around his shoulder to hold him. The red-eyed Sam took another puff on his pipe.
"We brought you a housewarming present," Erich said. "Haven't seen you since 'the incident' and figured I'd uh – well, it's not important. Ever built a tower on a Great Welkynd stone?"
Mehra blinked in shock.
"Weren't those all destroyed?" Neloth frowned.
"We have our ways," Erich shrugged.
Sam snuggled into his side and stayed silent, opting to smoke his pipe instead.
"That's an incredible present," Mehra replied. "And don't worry about 'the incident'; no harm was done."
Bless him; was their failed attempt at intimacy why he hadn't said hello in a while? They really needed a private conversation about it.
She shook her head. Now wasn't the time; she had to remember her manners.
Mehra turned to Neloth. "Neloth, this is Erich Heartfire and Sam Guevenne."
Sanguine grinned and giggled from behind his pipe as Erich snorted.
"No," Erich drawled, "my name is Shethro Grath. Seriously though, Sam Guevenne?"
Sam burst out in a fit of wheezing laughter.
Shaking his head, Erich gave Sam a squeeze then turned his gaze to Neloth. "What do you think about the stone? A pair of them?" he asked.
"It should certainly work," Neloth nodded. "Presumably, even better than soul gems, since the stones are pure magical power. Any strings attached to this?"
Sam grinned and nudged Erich. "Yeah, if everyone would take off their–"
"No strings attached," Erich interjected. "The Lady wants a tower, and she'll get one."
"If it weren't a waste of booze, I'd seriously puke," Sam grumbled.
A guard approached them, his brows furrowed behind his helmet. "Now I know a friend of our Thane wouldn't be smoking moonsugar in public, would he?" he asked.
Sam turned his bloodshot eyes toward the guard. "Nah," he shrugged. "This is a plant from Elsweyr, not moonsugar. Helps with my allergies; my eyes are so damn red."
"Oh," the guard mumbled, "my mistake, I suppose. Just please try to be decent, then; no mischief."
"Sure," Sam shrugged, watching as the guard moved on to his post.
When he was out of earshot, he took another drag on the pipe. "Else-w-h-e-r-e," Sam snickered, quite satisfied that he tricked the guard.
Speaking of mischief, Mehra had a burning question to ask of Erich.
"So, Erich," she frowned, "Did you see the Gildergreen?"
He grinned from ear to ear, confirming her suspicions.
"Did you have anything to do with that?" she pressed, already knowing the answer.
"Plants like me," he smiled.
"Erich."
"Alright, so there may have been a bit of amber sap involved –"
"Erich."
He threw his arms in the air and huffed. "It's pretty, alright?" he groused. "Look at those flowers! I don't care if Kyne takes credit for it even. If people say a prayer to her beneath it and I hear it, I'll just gag and move on. The painters out front of it, the children playing beneath it, the women wearing its flowers in their hair, the jewelers making pendants inspired by it – that's what I like. Mania and happiness: that's what I want. So I marked the city a little, alright?"
Sam swayed on his feet and took another puff of his pipe. "Wouldn't be the first time he's marked a mortal settlement. Ever heard of Border Watch?"
Erich cracked a grin. "Ah, yes. I couldn't help but help myself with that one. Goodness, I was so helpful to me, and I didn't even know it at the time."
Sighing, Mehra turned toward the wealthy district. Though she couldn't see the reborn tree from in front of her house, she smelled its flowers on the wind.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw that Neloth had already backed away.
"I feel fulfilled now, honest," Erich said. "Don't go telling your mom on me or something. She's a needler."
"Damn right on that one," Sam grumbled.
"And besides," Erich continued, "it's not like it's full of dangerous pollen or anything. It's just regular flowers growing where they shouldn't be, but extra smelly. You should get some and put them in your hair."
"Unless you want some roses," Sam said. "How about some red ones? A red rose flower crown to go atop your helm?"
Mehra sighed and shook her head. "If anything, I suppose I ought to be wearing roses. Mother of the Rose, and all that."
"That's right," Sam replied. "I can get you some right now. Bright red, for a lovely –"
"Azura's roses are peach," Erich grumbled.
Sam put his hand behind his back and withdrew a crown of vibrant red roses. Turning to Erich, he narrowed his eyes.
"You wear 'em, then," he frowned.
Erich accepted the crown of roses with a smile. Within a few seconds of him placing the flowers on his head, the workers showed up in front of the house. A man stepped out of the group and gave Erich a nod.
"Thane of Whiterun?" he asked.
Erich grinned. "You'll want to talk to the lady."
The man turned to Mehra and gave her a short bow. "We are here for your construction project, Thane."
"Thank you," she replied. "It'll be a unique job, but I know Proventius would hire nobody but the best."
"Of course, Missy," he said.
He turned once again to Erich. "I presume you're the boss, Sir?"
"I brought a – a magical thing for her to use," he explained. "I don't really know what's going on beyond that."
Sam dissolved into laughter so strong that his legs gave out.
Ignoring the unintentional – maybe intentional – double entendre, Neloth stepped forward.
"I will be overseeing the construction," he frowned. "You will direct all questions to me, and if they need an opinion, I will direct them to her."
She wasn't sure why the foreman didn't bother with her. Maybe he didn't expect a woman for a Thane, but Solitude had one. Perhaps, it was because she was a Dunmer and every Thane she met was a Nord.
Mehra frowned. Unless she asked the guy directly – which was tacky, she supposed – she couldn't know for certain. She dropped the issue and allowed Neloth to lead them back to the site where the ditch digging would begin. As soon as they were gone, Sam rolled his eyes.
"No respect," he snorted. "She's a 'take command' kind of woman. I should know!"
Erich glowered but said nothing. Sighing, Mehra glanced beyond the corner of the house to the group gathered in the back.
"I know you two are keeping up a ruse," she said. "But while there's nobody here, I wanted to thank you so much for your gift. It may be nothing to either of you, but your appearance before us is an honor. I hope I never take it for granted."
Erich shook his head. "Too formal," he chuckled. "You reminded me of my name; I won't forget that. Or, at least, I hope I don't."
"I like social events," Sam shrugged. "But I am glad you understand the importance of a visit; some don't mind themselves."
She motioned to the back of the house, and the three of them walked around the side.
"You are more than welcome to stay as long as you like," Mehra said. "Though we may bore you with the mundane."
When she turned back to look at them, Erich had a large pack slung over his shoulder.
"I could catch up for a few minutes," he said. "We have a party –"
He turned to Sam and winced. "Are we going to be late?"
"Late doesn't exist, where I'm from," Sam shrugged. "She won't mind a few minutes."
He cast a longing glance to the Ebony Blade strapped to Mehra's side, giving her an inkling that they had plans with Mephala. The whole thing seemed a bit strange to her, but she knew that the Daedra had their own lives – Erich included.
They stopped out back of the house. Erich removed the pack from his back and withdrew a pair of stones that shone so brightly with magical power that it was difficult to make out their physical form. They were so lovely that had they not been part of the tower construction, she would have liked to have them to just look at, along with some of her other favorite gemstones.
Neloth stepped forward to take them – how he couldn't stare at them was beyond her – and put them with the other materials. He walked back to where the group stood under the small lean-to behind Breezehome, keeping an eye on the workers as they dug the ditch for the tower's roots.
The group stood in silence for a moment, and Erich sighed and crossed his arms.
"I do have something I need to say, actually," he said.
Perplexed, Mehra turned to him. "What is it?"
"I was watching your fight at Winterhold," he replied. "Train harder."
Mehra deflated at the serious look on his face. Next to her, Neloth bit his lip, looking a bit helpless. What could either of them say in defense of that?
"I'm fairly certain she was trying to save her enemy's life," Sanguine mused.
She nodded in agreement and Erich narrowed his eyes.
"No quarter for enemies," he frowned. "Ever."
Mehra shrugged. She wasn't like that anymore.
"And if they change status?" she asked.
Erich tilted his head to the side in confusion.
"Can't think of a time that ever really happened," he mumbled. "That does change it a little, I guess. But I remember how you used to be. Let's go out in the middle of nowhere sometime, and you cast your best at me. No, better yet; you'll fight me."
Erich narrowed his eyes. "Yes, you'll fight me. I'll wear my black armor."
His 'black armor'? That probably meant trouble, more than anything. She nodded and sighed as he stepped closer to wrap his arm around her shoulder.
"Hey, I'll be good to you," he said. "Promise. I'm not my Da; it's not like I'm going to backhand the teeth out of your mouth or anything."
Mehra sucked in a breath. His self-depreciating humor was ill-timed.
"And," he grinned, "you can't kill me. You could beat up on me for a while before I'd get hurt, right Sam?"
Sam nodded and took another puff of his pipe.
Mehra didn't doubt it in the least. She fought an aspect of Hircine at the time the Bloodmoon prophecy came to pass, not too long after she defeated Dagoth Ur. Theoretically, given that she had to choose between three different aspects of Hircine, Mehra supposed she fought him at one third of his strength.
And that fight was extremely difficult, even with the aid of all her enchanted weapons and armor.
She sighed and shook her head. "Isn't that cheating, though?"
"Cheating?" Erich laughed. "I was born out of cheating! Twice, in fact."
Sam broke out into a fit of wheezing laughter. "I'm not going to tell you how we did it to him," he chuckled. "Last thing we need you knowing is how many of us it takes to hold you – him – down."
Erich narrowed his eyes and Sam shook his head.
"It was dirty business," he admitted. "Jyg – We'll call him 'Jimmy' – had it coming, though."
Apparently, the Jyggalag ordeal was still a bit of a sore spot with the daedra. All Mehra knew was that she ought to stay out of it; Azura and her sisters were involved in his betrayal, and that complicated the matter.
"Speaking of coming," Erich said, "we should probably get going."
Sanguine nodded in agreement. He pushed off from the wall, straightened his shirt, and waited for Erich to say his goodbyes.
"I'll see you around sometime," Erich said. "I'll probably just appear or something; you know how I do it. Good luck with the tower thing."
He leaned over and gave her a quick hug.
"Thank you so much for the stones," Mehra said.
Erich shrugged. Pursing his lips, he turned to Neloth and gave him a strange look.
"Neloth, I want you to think about it, alright?" he said. "I think it'll be good for you."
"Of course," he replied. "I'll – think about it."
Erich gave him a cheeky smile and linked arms with Sam. Together, they walked off down the road. Once they were out of sight, Mehra turned to Neloth.
"Think about what?" she asked.
He shook his head and stared off in the direction they disappeared.
"I have absolutely no clue."
Around sunset, the work on the tower came to an end. With the ditch complete, Neloth was able to set up the Welkynd stones with spores from his own tower. Now, all they had to do was be patient and wait for the tower to grow, a process which would take an uncertain amount of time. After that, the workers would come back and carve out doorways, then they would grow rooms and pods as necessary.
The most important part of the construction would be the bridge connecting Breezehome to the tower. Mehra insisted on an enclosed structure with windows and heavy insulation; Skyrim wasn't warm in the least, and a traditional Telvanni bridge would leave a lot to be desired during the winter. That, and the last thing she wanted was someone slipping and falling off the edge due to ice.
Mehra sighed and watched the evening crowd flood the streets of Whiterun. The city felt like home, and she couldn't recall a time in her life where she felt such a strong sense of belonging. Out in the crowd, a familiar face stood out; Lydia walked down the street from the Bannered Mare with bundles in her arms. As she drew closer, Mehra stepped forward to take one of the bundles. It was warm, and the scent of roasted meat and potatoes drifted up from the cloth she held in her hands.
Lydia opened the door for them with her free hand, ushering Mehra and Neloth inside.
"I figured the gentleman would appreciate a quiet evening," Lydia said. "Bannered Mare food without the Bannered Mare party; it gets wild on the weekends there."
She looked around for a place to put the cloth bag she carried and settled on the side-table by the hearth.
Neloth nodded and regarded Lydia with a thoughtful look. "You are correct."
"I really appreciate this," Mehra agreed. "I'm too tired to deal with that sort of thing."
"Travel will do that," Lydia shrugged. "Don't worry about the dishes; I'll take them back when it's convenient for you."
Mehra put her bundle next to the other and turned back to Lydia. So, this was what she was doing for the better part of the day. She couldn't imagine that getting something like this on a short notice would be easy, given how busy the tavern was all the time.
"Thank you for doing that," she said. "By the way; when the tower is done, this whole house is yours."
Lydia gasped. "That's – excessive. I don't need – I mean, I'm thankful, very thankful, but–"
"Nah, you get the house," Mehra insisted. "I can't stand the thought of you sleeping in that tiny – well, it's a closet, for starters."
Lydia gave her a sheepish smile. "Ah, it kind of is, yes."
"We'll talk about how to rearrange stuff when the time comes," Mehra said. "Will you come outside with me for a moment?"
"Of course."
Mehra excused them and led Lydia outside the house. As soon as they were outside, her housecarl cleared her throat awkwardly.
"Forgive me, my Thane," Lydia murmured, "but are you seeing him? There's a certain way he looks at you."
"Somewhat? Not officially or anything," she replied.
What was this about a 'look'? He was probably thinking about her ass, if anything. She didn't mind; it felt nice to be thought of as lovely.
"An old friend, then?" Lydia asked.
"He's at least old," Mehra snorted.
Lydia blinked in confusion.
"He's an ancient Telvanni Master," Mehra explained. "I think he has to be at least three thousand years old."
"So," Lydia mused, "Friends with side benefits?"
Mehra pursed her lips in thought. They weren't exactly friends, either, but they were definitely more than colleagues.
"I suppose I'm the closest thing he has to a friend," she concluded. "I imagine that when you live that long, you stop forming close attachments."
"Sounds lonely."
Mehra sighed and looked at the ground.
"It is."
Lydia crossed her arms, as if debating whether or not to continue speaking. Mehra saw a strange look on her face as she her came to a decision after a bit of thought.
"So, three thousand years old," Lydia said. "How does that um, work out?"
Mehra laughed. "It's a lot better than you'd think it would be. In fact, I'd say it works out very well."
"Really?"
"What specifically do you want to know?"
Lydia's face turned red, making Mehra laugh again. Seeing her blushing like that meant that she must have had some very interesting questions.
"It's impolite to ask what my Thane –"
"Nonsense."
Lydia shook her head. Apparently, she didn't trust her voice.
"No, he's not covered in wrinkles," Mehra volunteered. "I knew him back when he had his tower on Vvardenfell at the end of the Third Era. Yes, he was covered in wrinkles back then."
"He's reasonably muscled for someone who isn't a warrior," she continued. And what he lacked with affection, he made up for with his hands.
Lydia stared at the door to the house, as if she could see Neloth through it. "Three thousand years old? That's a lot of practice."
Mehra laughed out loud. There was some truth to that. "Well, he's not tender or anything, but he knows where and how to touch. If I wanted tenderness, I'd –"
She trailed off, unsure of how to finish her sentence. Mehra didn't even know how to complete the thought, if she where honest with herself.
"You would what?" Lydia asked.
Mehra swallowed the lump that was forming in her throat. She couldn't deny it; she did want something more from Neloth, but she had no clue what. "I'd find somewhere else for that."
"Ply him with alcohol," Lydia shrugged. "He'll slow down. It was supposed to be a surprise, but I'll tell you now; there's a bottle of vintage honey liquor in with the food. Let him have that and you'll get exactly what you want."
"Lydia, we haven't kissed once."
Lydia knit her brows in confusion. "So, why are you sleeping with this man?"
"It's," she sighed, "it's good."
Mehra pursed her lips and leaned up to whisper in Lydia's ear.
"You find a man who knows what the hell to do with a clitoris," she said, "then dammit, you keep him."
Lydia smiled, her face turning red. "A woman will do that well, too. Differently, of course. Either is fine, though."
"That's probably very true," Mehra laughed.
Gods, they were talking about this in front of her house. Though she was certain that it appeared that they were having a business meeting, she couldn't be too sure.
Mehra wasn't sure that she could use the words 'rough, animal sex', 'amazing hands' and 'intense screaming orgasm' without being overheard. And for the life of her, she never thought she'd ever associate such words with Neloth, of all people.
"You said you were rough, once," Lydia said. "Maybe he thinks he ought to treat you as such. Should be old enough to know that people aren't so simple. Get him a little drunk, then kiss him."
Mehra glanced back at the door. Maybe it would be that easy.
"Anyway," Lydia said, "I know you were having fun, but I think what you said is true. If you find someone who knows what to do with you – in many different ways – then they're worth holding onto."
She sighed. "You've given me something to think about there."
"And I as well," Lydia murmured. "I will need to think of this in the future. Anyway, guess this is the part where you ask me to stay somewhere else tonight, correct?"
Mehra winced. "Yeah, about that –"
"Not a problem," she laughed. "In fact, I am to find Aela. We are going hunting tomorrow."
Her eyebrows shot up.
"If – if that isn't a problem, that is," Lydia mumbled.
Mehra smiled and gave her a pat on the arm. "Not at all. Enjoy yourself as much as you'd like; Aela is a great woman."
"Thank you," she replied. "I believe I will. And take care of yourself; I can only protect you from bodily harm, not other kinds."
"I will. Thank you, Lydia; I can't imagine anyone else as my Housecarl."
She watched Lydia leave, then turned back to the house with a sigh. How could she blame Neloth for anything if she didn't say what she wanted? It was unfair to him. Mehra knew she was too old to think so foolishly; by now, she ought to have known more about how people worked.
Well, she was in prison by herself for the majority of her life. The only time she had interaction was at meal times and the odd time that they brought her things for a bath or new clothes to replace the rags she wore.
Resolving to be nicer to herself, Mehra turned to the house and opened the door. The smell of the food Lydia brought greeted her, along with the sight of Neloth sitting in a chair by the hearth. He had a fire going already, and briefly, Mehra wondered if he used magic to light it.
He must have; she couldn't think of him using a flint.
"Lydia will be staying at the Bannered Mare tonight." she said. "Let's relax; the house is cleared out and there won't be any interruptions."
Neloth quirked a brow. "Well, if you wanted me to slow down, you ought to have asked."
Mehra closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Apparently, that was all it took with Neloth. So much for her existential angst.
"Then why –"
"You always seemed eager to get down to business," he shrugged. "So, I thought nothing of it. I'm not reading your mind, you know. That is, unless you'd like me to. Might leave you insane, though."
Mehra rolled her eyes. "How about it, then?" she asked. "It's not like we're going to waste time and grow old tonight."
Neloth laughed. "Certainly. It is rare that I am allowed such privacy."
Though somewhat annoyed, Mehra decided to drop the matter. She was used to fighting to get whatever she wanted and it made her a bit anxious to have this so easily. In fact, having her way in this manner still didn't settle the strange feelings she had surrounding her entire situation with Neloth.
Refusing to give into the anxiety, Mehra dragged a nearby stool over to the hearth, and placed it and the food in between the two chairs there. She grabbed a pair of plates and cutlery from a nearby cupboard, handing one set to Neloth. Together, they unwrapped the food and began to eat.
"How big do you think it'll be by morning?" Mehra asked.
Neloth shook his head. "It depends on temperature, soil, moonlight – so many things. I imagine it will be taller than the house, at least."
Mehra took a forkful of meat and nodded. "A week to completion, like usual?"
"I believe so. Conditions are promising."
She liked that idea. Once it was done, she'd have to make a decision on what to do for the Elder Scroll; time was running out. The food on her plate lost its appeal at the thought.
"I've still got to think about how to get that Elder Scroll," Mehra said. "It's constantly on my mind."
Neloth nodded. "I have done what I can, but I do understand your urgency. What thoughts do you have on the matter?"
"I – I don't know," she admitted. "A trip down to Cyrodiil to talk to the Synod and College of Whispers may have to happen – and I'm loathed to do that given the amount of time it would take. Would the House know of anything?"
"I am the main purveyor of ancient and forbidden knowledge," Neloth said. "And I do not say this as a boast; the newer Masters are younger than you. Aryon is the second oldest and he doesn't deal in such things, as you already know."
She nodded quietly. Mehra wasn't sure what else she could do.
"I could ask Erich," she sighed.
Neloth made a noise of disapproval next to her.
"Sheogorath is still Sheogorath," he said. "Don't destroy yourself over this."
"It's the apocalypse," Mehra said. "What choice do I have?"
He shook his head. "There is always a way without taking dire risks. Always. You cannot save the world if something happens to you before you have the chance. So if you want to play the selfless route, then know this: you cannot help others without helping yourself, first."
Mehra nodded in agreement and looked down at her plate. Not wanting him to tell her to eat, Mehra made an effort at making herself do it.
Neloth was correct, of course; he rarely wasn't. She couldn't do a thing to defeat Alduin if she harmed herself before she had the chance to fight him. So, after the tower was complete, she supposed she'd head down to Cyrodiil, dredge up a bunch of memories, and be done with the whole thing.
Mehra finished her plate and put her fork down.
"Thank you for keeping me grounded, Neloth," she said. "You're right about a lot of things."
He shrugged. "It takes many mistakes to be correct so often. Fortunately, none of mine were fatal."
Though his admission surprised her, Mehra kept quiet. Instead, she reached into the bag that held the liquor and pulled the bottle out.
"You drink?" she asked.
Neloth shrugged again. "Not often, but I suppose the circumstances would call for it."
She nodded in agreement and stood to get some glasses. The growth of a new tower was a big deal.
Mehra sat down next to Neloth, handed him a glass, and opened the bottle. The drink inside smelled strong and sweet; she felt compelled to ask Lydia how much it cost in order to reimburse her for it. Mehra poured a glass for Neloth, then one for herself.
"A toast, then," she said, raising her glass.
Neloth raised his glass. "To Tel – what are you calling this thing, anyway?"
Mehra pursed her lips and sat back in her chair. She was so caught up in the planning that she hadn't thought of what to call it.
"Uh," she mumbled, "Tel – um."
She thought of everything around the city: plains, farmland, mountains, the White River...
"Tel Ouada," Mehra said, her voice uncertain.
Neloth appeared to consider this for a moment, then nodded.
"It works," he replied. "To Tel Ouada."
They clinked glasses and took a drink. They toasted more things after: House Telvanni – may it survive forever; Morrowind – never defeated; magic – the study of greatness; enchanting – the greatest of these. They toasted until Neloth had a lazy smile on his face, and Mehra was quite certain she looked the same. It wasn't until they toasted Sadrith Mora and the hope that the city would become even greater than before that Mehra remembered what Brelyna told her about the city.
"Brelyna told me something interesting," Mehra said. "Something about the spirit of Divayth Fyr saving some of Sadrith Mora from the eruption."
Neloth went to pour himself another glass, hesitated, then bypassed the glass altogether by taking a direct gulp from the bottle.
Mehra cleared her throat. "I apologize if that was an inappropriate question. I respected him a lot, despite the fact that I squandered the opportunity to get to know him – anyone, really – back then."
He took another gulp then set the bottle down. "Divayth was my patron," he said. "Old enough to have been born Chimer. An incredible wizard and a patient teacher, when he still accepted apprentices. It is always stressed that to consort with the dangerous daedra – especially the likes of the House of Troubles– is to be done with caution. He hadn't spoken with Dagon in a long time, but, Dagon hadn't forgotten the powerful old wizard living in the south of Vvardenfell. I don't have to tell you what exactly happened to him and his house when he refused to aid Dagon."
She nodded quietly.
Neloth stared at the bottle and shook his head. "And Sheogorath – whomever – saw Mehrunes Dagon in person? As a mortal?"
"Erich described him – in his own words – as pants-shittingly terrifying," Mehra replied. "Though the hot gossip among the daedra is a mortal scarred Dagon's face with a massive shock spell, and that said mortal became the next Sheogorath."
"Daedric gossip?" he deadpanned. "Are you serious?"
Mehra nodded.
Neloth rolled his eyes, took another drink from the bottle, then set it down. "Surprisingly mundane," he grumbled. "Anyway, to answer your question: I let the old man have it. I don't want to become 'Saint Neloth' or have statues erected in my honor. I want my peace and quiet and my research and my damned tower."
Mehra stared at him. "Neloth, you– "
"Yes."
"all those people?"
"Yes."
"How?"
He clenched his jaw. "Ward spell at the last second. Used Intervention to transport everyone to the Temple of the One and recalled to my new tower alone where Aryon found me half-dead. He is the only one who knows. I am through talking about it."
Mehra nodded quietly and stared at the fire. She didn't think he would have ever done something so heroic, and if he did, surely he would have wanted praise for it. Neloth was different than she'd imagined. She was glad that she invited him to her home – into her life to help her start over – and glad that she listened to the context of his message when they first met, that she was meant for more than what she had been doing.
And technically, it meant he'd been to the mainland before, but she wasn't about to be so petulant in bringing it up.
"I understand that, a bit," Mehra said. "I don't want a bunch of people knowing I'm Dragonborn. And I especially don't want to be known as 'the person who is trying to stop the apocalypse'. I just want to be me – whatever that is."
Neloth nodded.
"I suppose we'll keep each others secrets," Mehra chuckled.
"A good idea," he replied.
She took another sip of her drink and shook her head. "Honestly, I can't think of any other place where a peasant can make it big other than House Telvanni. The other kids in the orphanage – I'm sure they're long dead by now – would have been surprised to hear what came of the kid who lived in the basement: a Lord in Morrowind. Um, hero stuff aside."
Neloth frowned. "The basement?"
"The nightmares," she sighed. "They thought I must have been possessed or something. They treated me more like a servant than a child to give to new parents; I scrubbed floors until my hands went raw, washed the linens, cleaned the chimneys, cooked the meals – poorly, might I add – and was made to stay out of sight when visitors came."
"Where?"
"Daggerfall. I learned some magic–"
"Those Bretons," Neloth scowled. "Cronies of the Empire, simple-minded, and dismissive of the significant contributions Merkind have made to the world at large – ironically including their gifted heritage that they so love to make comment on."
Mehra shrugged. "They taught me my first spells. I got slapped on the hands whenever I cast wrong, so I learned quickly."
Neloth shook his head in disgust and poured himself another drink. For a brief moment, Mehra wondered if they ought to stop, but they were both getting more candid with each other the more they drank. That alone was worth the possible headache in the morning.
"You are correct about anyone with enough talent and drive being able to succeed in House Telvanni," he said. "I wasn't always so high status, you know."
"Then how did you get started?"
Neloth sighed and looked at the floor. He obviously didn't want to discuss it. After a moment's hesitation, he shook his head.
"My parents were farmers," he said. "I was conscripted as a teen and learned magic there. After a military career of sorts, I wanted more. So, I joined the House."
The office of Master Wizard, Mage Lord of the Telvanni Council was second only to the Archmagister, and it had been filled for a few thousand years by a man with peasant blood.
Fascinating. She was very much correct on what she said earlier.
"If word of that gets out," Neloth groused, "I will know it came from you. Don't speak of it again; there are dozens in the House who look down on 'mud-bloods' and use being born into the House as a way of asserting some false superiority over others."
Mehra nodded in agreement. She encountered that to some degree, but supposed that it was much worse during the time when Morrowind was closed off to outsiders. But she understood the feeling from how the people at the orphanage looked down on her as some sort of Daedra spawn simply for being Dunmer.
"Our minds make us elite," Mehra said, "not our blood. That is the Telvanni way. You are among the most elite Telvanni to ever exist."
Neloth smirked. "Well, when you're right," he purred, "you're right."
He took another swig from the bottle between them and swallowed. Taking the moment for what it was, Mehra closed the gap between them and pressed her lips to his. The kiss started slowly, then devolved into a storm of passion as Mehra tried desperately to ignore how much it felt like a homecoming rather than another fleeting moment of lust.
The bottle of alcohol lay open and forgotten on the table as they tumbled their way upstairs, kissing so much that it left them breathless. This was different from the other times, and Mehra found herself both excited and scared.
This – whatever it was – wasn't supposed to be like this.