Chapter 8: Messiah Complex
A/N: Several character appearances, backstories, and even personalities have been altered from vanilla Skyrim. Ancano is much younger, and more reasonable here and has a backstory. Also, this story is probably gonna be 70 chapters. Originally planned for 50, but it can't all be contained in just 50. I promise it won't be longer than that because then it would just be milking + I want to do other things with my life other than just writing. I'm better at things I can coast through like running or sports since they don't require as much mental agitation due to my ocd which makes writing and mind-oriented hobbies very difficult. I get in the bad habit of obsessing over every detail and stagnate everywhere else.
Warning: Disturbing scenes ahead.
~ § ó § ò § ~
Tiber awoke. Marking his return to the Fatherland. All he saw around him was a massive blackened crater and towering pines, a thick cover of snow blanketed the land. Dizziness pervaded his skull as he crawled to the edge of the hollow, coughing his violet blood. He mouth-wiped himself and stood straight, reorienting his body as the nausea threatened to put him down again.
Miserable warbles and gurgles echoed from his gullet.
He blinked ashes out of his eyes. His lack of eyelashes made it increasingly difficult. How long have I been out? Tiber sat down and massaged his temples. I'm mortal again... I'm weak, vulnerable. Ugh. He consumed the spit on his tongue.
Akatosh.
Damn him for eternity. I never should have underestimated his intelligence.
Tiber's insides unfilled as he laid back on his elbows, soaking in the surroundings. Nothing was real. Hope was gone. He'd been found out. Nothing makes sense anymore. A few bunnies trampled by, oblivious to his condition. A deer galavanting amongst the snow-ladened hills and winding icy canyons to the east. He shuddered as he in-took a breath of air, exhaling through his nose.
Violet woke like a serpent.
All those eras of work, thrown away. Always because of him. Why did you have to exist, Akatosh? Why? All I ever wanted was to make my world my way without your bloody perfection. And to be recognized for it.
Tiber cast a few healing spells to repair his various injuries and torn ligaments. The spell conjured around him, sewing up wounds and rejuvenating him in a warmth like that he experienced with a woman.
I'll never be a god again, I'll never be able to defeat Akatosh now. Not like I ever could, even when I was at full strength. Even the originators prefer him over me. Exalt him over me. - All my plans for the world and of me being the one true god are all for nothing now. Centuries of planning... all for nothing. My ambitions. All swept away just like that. If only I'd been less cautious and enacted them sooner. I could've been the most exalted being in the universe, reach whoever started this all. Find out why.
As if his ex-wife Kynareth herself was spitting on him, it began to rain. The teardrops of the clouds showered down on him, freezing the snow into ice or sloshing it into a mix of glacial waves.
Kyne's screams echoed with the thunder and lightning that followed, striking several trees, setting them aflame. Her rage at his betrayal.
"Why Shor?" He could hear her voice resonate in the wind.
Because I refuse to be anyone's pawn. Because I tried to make a world I wanted to live in... Because I just wanted to be understood by someone like me. And no one would care lest I was great.
The miserable rain man trudged through the downpour and sleet, his Imperial-Dragon Boots protecting him from the elements. More lightning crackled through the sky, he swore he could see the clouds forming the shapes of his brothers and sisters. Former brothers and sisters.
They could never understand me. No one could. No one would. No one cares too. They're all just as selfish as they accuse me of being.
It doesn't matter at the moment. What can I do now?
Skyrim stirred in the harsh cries of Mother Nature, the tree branches swiveling with heavy sleet and ice splitting across giant frozen lakes.
Akatosh said he was sending his last child to defeat me. So, he's finally found a way to end me then. Fair enough, this universe isn't big enough for the two of us. About time one of us takes the lead.
Just wish it could've been me, and it was my brother down here suffering and my Shezarrine being sent to defeat him.
Shezarrine... hmm. He stroked his short stubbly-goatee.
Tiber's short amount of hair was soused in the rain, his snake-tail had coiled around his leg to find comfort.
I knew he had birthed the Last Dragonborn seventeen years ago, he told us, but he never explained why. I remember teasing the brat when he was a kid, but I didn't know he was born to stop me, if I had, I could've just. No, it's likely Akatosh found a way to protect him, a failsafe in case I ever tried to kill him. - The question remains though, what can I do with the time I have left. I'm about to die and then suffer in hellish torment for eternity. There is no escape now, my days are numbered. I could die tomorrow or five years from now, either way it's over.
The rain attacked his face. Fuck it all.
The curse of being Sithis' first born. The price of ambition, the words reverberated throughout the mainframe of his skull. This is what you get for being gifted, different, blessed with knowledge. You get shunned and abandoned. Because your way of thinking doesn't align with the public viewpoint. For daring to skew from what would be the norm.
This is what I get for being a hero. For challenging authority. This is what I get for being a messianic savior.
He sighed deeply, and none will ever know it.
Tiber tried to laugh, but it came out errant, as croaking-gasping instead of an audible laugh. Each iota pulsed his scar with pain.
If I'm going to burn, then I'm not going without a fight. I have nothing left to lose. I'm going to ruin this world. Sow as much discord in this land, kill as many people, rape as many women, lead as many astray. If I can't touch Akatosh, then I'll torture the thing he holds most dear, his children. I'll corrupt every last one, make them indirectly worship me by following my teachings rather than his. Priests will become rapists. Scientists and mages will be hanged for blasphemy. Women who have slept with man will be burned for impurity. Virgin boys will be sacrificed for lack of virility. People will steal, kill their siblings over greed, over indulge, blame Akatosh, love me.
I'm going to show everyone. I'll shake the very foundations of creation, bring the entire world to its knees, express my anger, rage, for everyone to bare witness too before I depart this cyclical plane of existence.
Tiber snaked his forked-tongue over his fangs, grinning. The liberation.
I will make brother suffer by making his beloved people suffer. I'm going to cause him as much pain as humanly possible before he gets me. - With any luck I might finally locate the Heart of the Universe and have all the power in the world to defeat Akatosh and any who'd oppose me. Maybe I can destroy the soul of this "Dragonborn" child as well... yes, I'm beginning to get a few ideas.
Why not beg for forgiveness? An unfamiliar tone, unknown to him welled from the deepest recesses of his soul, sounding like a child.
Never. I will not beg to that fool. I am no coward. - You want me to be the villain so bad, Akatosh. Your antithesis. I'll show you just what I'm capable of, if I haven't already. I conquered all of this pathetic continent once as a man, who's to say I can't ruin everything we've worked for. The stability you've sown, destroyed by my chaos.
Alternatively, you could prosper, build a life for yourself and help others, the childish voice in his head persisted once more. If you build a great nation the right way, get married to one good woman. Maybe Akatosh will forgive you and you can reconcile your differences?
Hmm, yes. Tiber was so lost in thought his surroundings blurred around him. Then I could trick him again, once I've earned his trust.
No, the annoying child bickered. Don't do that.
Fuck you. They never cared for me when my heart was ripped out, I united this damn continent and they forsake my name and worship. Damn elves, smarter than I gave them credit for. Their little Thalmor know my true intent and nature.
The Empire you created was built on the ashes of a million dead and deceived, the kiddish noise reprimanded him.
Tiber mediated, clearing his head of the verminous idiot. Akatosh won't rest until I'm dead. I'm going to die, then he's going to make me suffer in hellfire. I know it. I know how he thinks. Everything is over.
So, if he's going to make me suffer, I'm going to make him suffer. His people.
Most of all, his little, baby Dragonborn. Nothing would hurt my brother more than to watch his precious little prince burn, like I'm going to burn. How fitting the youngest be the runt of the litter.
I'm not going to kill the kid. I'm going to make him kill himself. Make him hate himself so much that he has nothing left to live for.
But before that, he's going to endure pain no mortal has ever endured, and Akatosh will bear witness as I crush his soul and damage his spirit. When they think of me in the future, the boy will serve as a constant reminder of the magnificence of the god who bore this ungrateful world.
Tiber was shaken from his introspection when he came upon a large dwemeri styled hall in the middle of the outdoors. It was a tunnel that emptied into a thicket of trees. The words: Danger, Beware imprinted on a sign outside.
He ignored it and stepped in, roving through the colossal window into the small bushel.
If memory serves me correctly, this would be the Carnivorous Copse. The compact grove of trees were bunched together like one big bush, snarling lowly in the breeze. Good, I could use some practice. Tiber unsheathed his blade and sprinted through the wound, slashing and crashing offshoots that whipped and fought back. He cleaved through them like obsidian through flesh, coming out the other end of the group of plants unscathed. The heads of spriggans tumbling out in his wake. As if some sort of final boss of a dungeon, the biggest tree, a stocky sugar pine approached him from across the rocky mountaintops in the clearing they found themselves in. - Rocks and snowy grass cambered on.
How bewitching.
The scenery of the glade was pulchritudinous. Clouds split as rays of sunshine shone with a colossal waterfall pouring into a giant basin-lake over the Jeralls that separated Skyrim from Cyrodill. The land between Tiber and the border covered with smaller, regular pine trees. Perhaps one of the densest forests he'd ever bore witness too.
"You dare enter sacred ground," rasped the king tree, having uprooted itself. "For your transgression, you shall pay."
In what? Pinecones?
Tiber sheathed his sword and conjured a lightweight battle-axe, charging hard. He jumped, spun and cut the titanic tree clean in half, its top falling onto the ground as he landed upon its barked visage.
This power won't last. The longer I'm here, the weaker I'll get. I need to preserve as much strength as I can, he sighed.
An hour of travel deep into the woods toward Cyrodill found Tiber confronted once more, this time by three nords who'd been stupid enough to leave the safety of the walls.
"What are you doing out in the wilderness, sir?" Questioned a redhead broad. Tiber eyed her, licking his lips lustfully. From the swell of her plump breasts to the perky curve of her backside.
If I kill her two companions, I can have my way with her. Blood rushed to his lower regions at the thought and drool escaped his mouth. It's almost as fine as Dibella and nothing would aid my mood more than a quick fix.
"Aela," whispered one of the woman's companions. "He might be a shapeshifter daedra, careful. Look at his horns, his eyes, that tail. I heard they can't speak like us. Ask it something."
How dare this pompous brat call me an 'it'. Tiber stared him down.
"Alright, Vilkas," the lady, Aela, pacified her black-haired pet. "Sir, you know it's extremely dangerous, even illegal in some circumstances without a permit, to be outside the walls of the five cities. Monsters roam these lands and it is freezing out here. Please come with us and we'll escort you to safety. We are the Companions of the city, Nordenbjörg. Do you understand?"
Tiber shook his head.
"He's stupider than me," mumbled the other norse man, this one burlier and bigger.
"Hush, Farkas. What did I tell you about behaving?" Aela patted the lumber-some Farkas on his mane.
"Yes, ma'am." Farkas searched the dirt, scratching behind his furry ears and scuffing his feet.
"Good boy." Aela tickled him under his hairy chin.
I've had enough. This woman is as good as mine. His loins were throbbing now.
Tiber unstrapped the knife from his waist and flung it in the direction of Vilkas. It pierced his neck. He fell back, blood spraying out as he convulsed, painting the snow crimson.
"VILKAS, NO!" Yelled Farkas, he reared on Septim and began transforming into something hairy and wolf-like.
Aela shot three successive rounds from her bow at Tiber, one of which got him in the shoulder. Tiber conjured a sword as the Werewolf, Farkas, gained on him. Tiber clopped off his arms and legs in sweeping strokes. The head of the wolf howled in pain as its body squirmed on the ground.
What's up, dog?
A kick sent Tiber flying into the snow. He looked up. Aela was slamming her dagger at him. He grabbed her wrist with both his arms but she used her other hand to force it down on him, scratching his immaculate gold and silver chainmail. Tiber's snake tail hissed, lunging at the Companion. She kicked it aside with a knee-block and pounded Tiber's cheek, a tooth flying out with a squirt of blood. A knee went up his chin, she brought his head down upon her leg next. A foot to his stomach.
I am a god, he reminded himself. No mortal can match me.
Tiber leaped at her like Dagon. Swinging around her neck, behind her and knocking her into the dirt. She gagged as he choked the life out of her and struggled to escape, he pulled on her neck, she slumped, dead or passed out.
The Werewolf, Farkas howled, tears pouring from his blackened eyes as Tiber lowered himself over her body, sniffing her ears.
It is too dominant like Dibella. It had to be put down otherwise achieving relief would be impossible. He undid his greaves...
The male Werewolf howled a sound that sounded an awful lot like, "why!?"
He turned to smile at her dying pet, his reddish horns glistening under the sun. Because I like it. As he turned back to face Aela, he noticed her slightly haired, muscled arms that resembled Dibella's. This woman is a werewolf, he finalized. I never liked Hircine anyways. Tiber pretended Aela was Dibella, since her face was in the snow. He used his knife to cut her hair short to make it easier to immerse himself. A small amount of revenge on the wench that thinks herself greater than I. He hugged her back, his nose in her auburn hair. Now, how do I open her armor?
An elbow rammed his nose. Tiber shot back as Aela jumped forward. "Thanks for the haircut." She glanced at her dying companions. "I'm sorry, shield-brothers." Tiber sunk into the snow as she fired an arrow that landed between his legs. "See ya, chump." She transformed into a female Werwolf and sprint off down the forested hillside.
I'm going to hire two courtesans soon as possible. What a tease. Damn slut.
Tiber laid down and dealt with his issue himself. After a considerable measure of time, he was drained and exhausted. He lied against the fluff as the sun set, basking the countryside in orange hues. Farkas had died about an hour ago, Vilkas was gone too, his face pale from the amount of his blood staining the ice. Tiber secured his trousers and greaves back on, tightening them around his waist.
His eyelids drooped, his being sunk into the fluffy snowy goodness of it all...
"Can we please get some food now, Ancano? We've been at this for hours and almost died twice," a snobbish whining woke him; he wasn't sure how much later. Though judging by the stars and glistening aurora of the bright, blue nebula, it was safe to say it was night.
I forget sometimes how truly beautiful this land is.
Tiber pushed himself upright. The aisle of free space stenched of gore and decaying flesh. He heard half crawling noises shuffling in the pale country ahead of him.
"Silence, Pierre!" Announced an elf in a Thalmor uniform. "We're going to find Stesha and Idrasa and bring them to justice."
"Why are you so adamant about this?! They're probably both dead!" The one named Pierre shook wildly.
The white-skinned altmer was conversing with a young tan breton.
"I've told you a hundred times, he's probably DEAD." Pierre dragged his feet through the snow.
"What the hell is that?" Ancano looked right at Tiber and drew his spells. "A demon?! It killed those people!"
Tiber shot upright, his snake-tail preparing to attack. But then they heard something more...
"What's going on here?" The elf directed his attention to something behind Tiber.
"I'd like to know the same thing," said a gruff cyrodillic accent.
The next thing he saw was Ancano and Pierre fall to the ground. Instinctively, Tiber slammed himself into the flakes as a dart flew over him. He faked being passed out.
"Arrest all of them," announced an imperial captain with the same short undercut as Tiber, though the cyrodill's was grey not dark-brown.
"Yes, General Tullius!"
A group of the Empire's soldiers stomped past, grabbing the fainted bodies. A woman in her forties, which was the same age-appearance as Tiber's mortal form, took ahold of him with a nord youth.
"By the gods, Rikke, I think this one is a daedra! Look at its horns and tail!" Said the youth. "From the looks of it, he must've killed these people."
"Those are the Companions, Hadvar," Rikke declared. "Look at their armor. Their Harbinger, Kodlak will be heartbroken."
"Ones a wolf..." Hadvar stuttered, pointing to Farkas' open forum.
"Sick animal," Rikke spit in Tiber's face. The spit was warm and trickled into his mouth where he licked it up. "You'll be executed along with any complicit in this if I have a say about it."
I'm too exhausted and outnumbered to silence you for your insubordination. He continued to play possum. You insult a messiah.
From the corner of Tiber's eye he spotted a different unconscious breton. He couldn't tell what gender this one was because its lengthy mane swooped and swayed down over its head and frontside as two soldiers on either side of the manmer man-handled it into the pile-up of bodies.
Something weirdly familiar about this kid.
"So, we've got a Thalmor deserter, another bloody breton, and a daedra," annunciated Tullius. "Let's load them up on the cart and take them to Old Fort. We'll keep them in the prisons until we can figure out who's too blame for this mess."
I'm too tired to escape. I'll lose against all of them. It'll just be easier to lie low for now. As a mortal, I'm not as powerful as I was as a god.
~ § ó § ò § ~
A/N: The cities are walled because monsters roam outside, kind of like Attack on Titan. Tiber I just realized is literally "The Quiet Kid" everyone's afraid of.
Review, and I'll mention you!
Chapter 8: Messiah Complex