"It is a shame I am unaware of how to change the area in which you spawn here."
"Why's that?" Telyra asked. "You don't enjoy these little rides?"
They were once again traveling to Miraak's alcove on Sahrotaar, a journey they'd made together several times now. And each time, Miraak greeted her on the landing, helped her up on Sahrotaar's back, and settled in behind her before taking off. The fear of flying had long-since passed, and the flutter in her stomach was now pure excitement. She loved this.
"I do not mind the rides," he replied. "It is simply tedious needing to gather you each time."
"I'm surprised you don't just send Sahrotaar and let me fly over myself," she said.
A brief pause passed before he answered. "I will not be the one responsible for your falling."
She scoffed and muttered, "I wouldn't fall."
Just after she spoke, Miraak released his hands from the reins and moved his arms back to his sides, leaving Telyra with nothing but his legs to hold her. The sudden loss of security made her heart drop and sent her forward to grab the seat. His chest rumbled against her back as he chuckled and gripped her waist to steady her.
"Bastard," she hissed as a faint blush settled into her face, very aware of his hold.
It only served to make his laugh louder, and he returned his hands in front of her, pressing his arms and legs against hers just a tad tighter than before.
The pair fell into silence, the only sounds being that of Sahrotaar's wings, steady and constant like a heartbeat, and the wind of their travel reverberating against her ears. Now that the adrenaline of her fear had passed, replaced by the enjoyment of the ride, she found herself smiling as she looked down at his hands: such a serious man, yet he held a bit of snark and tease, some semblance of a personality that went beyond rebelliousness and the philosophical. It seemed the longer she spent with him, the more privy she was to this aspect of him.
Sahrotaar descended and landed, and Miraak slipped down from behind and offered his hand. The gesture was the same each time he brought her here, but it felt a little warmer this time.
"What?" he asked as she placed her hand in his.
"What?" She blinked at him.
"You are smirking."
She blinked again and forced her lips to relax. "I was… just imagining what it'd be like to ride on a dragon outside of Apocrypha," she lied, hoping the warmth in her cheeks wasn't evident. Her face twisted into obviously feigned irritation. "Am I not allowed to smile?" she said. "Just because you don't doesn't mean I have to hide mine."
Miraak said nothing for a beat, opting to simply stare at her. She assumed he rolled his eyes when he finally spoke. "Just because you cannot see it," he began, "does not mean it is not there." He turned from her and set to work releasing the dragon from his saddle.
As she had so many times before, she wished for him to remove the mask, just to prove whether he was capable of such a feat when it didn't include laughing at her.
With a heavy thud, he finished with the saddle and headed toward his room, gesturing for Telyra to follow.
"You need not wait for me each time," he remarked as they walked down the corridor.
She shrugged. "Seems rude to just walk away to your hidey-hole without you. And maybe I'm hoping that one day you'll let me help you with the saddle. It's not like I haven't offered."
"It is simply easier to do it myself," he replied. "Why are you so eager to do something so mundane?"
"I wouldn't mind seeing how it's made," she said with another shrug. "You could indulge me. Or just learn to accept help."
They stopped in front of his hidden door, and he placed his hand against it to release the illusion. "Your being here," he said, "is proof I am able to accept help."
With pursed lips and a hum, she considered his words. "I suppose that's fair," she admitted. "You could still be trying to kill me and steal my soul instead."
"I could always revert to such plans if our partnership is unsatisfactory," he replied.
"No, no," she quickly said. "This is fine. Especially since I have no way to know whether you're joking or not." She gestured to his mask.
"I speak in jest, mal dovahkiin." If not for the nickname he was so bent on using, she would've highly doubted his words given the monotony of his tone.
"Uh huh."
She turned from him and stepped toward the makeshift sofa; the book she'd been reading during her most recent visits was still on the table. Grabbing it and slipping her finger between the pages where she left her bookmark, she sat down and flipped back a page to remind herself of her previous reading.
"Have you found anything?" he asked, taking a seat beside her. "You have been reading that for several days now."
"It's about the Oblivion Crisis," she replied. "I was hoping there'd be some insight into how the gates from Dagon's realm were opened in Tamriel." She frowned.
"Nothing then?"
"Nothing so far," she said. "Most of this is about Martin Septim and the Hero of Kvatch. Apparently, there was a suspected affair between the bastard and his savior, and that's far more worthy of writing than even theorizing about how Dagon tore through to Nirn."
"Then why do you continue reading it?" he asked.
She shrugged. "Because if I don't finish it, that last page will have something I wish I'd read."
He stood up, causing the sofa to shift, but her eyes remained fixated on the book.
"'Were it not for the impending doom, such a scandal would have been the greatest source of conversation across Cyrodiil,'" Telyra read. "'Yet, it was that very doom that surely sparked such a thing. How does one not fall in love with their savior?'" Her voice became increasingly theatrical as she continued reading. "'With a rescue as daring as performed in Kvatch, no doubt the young Septim found himself thinking fondly of the Hero. Well, perhaps after he was whisked away to the safe (at the time) walls of Cloud Ruler Temple. And it can be surmised the pair found a great deal of alone time, surely seeking celebration whenever the great Hero returned from the dangers of saving Cyrodiil.'"
Miraak appeared in front of her and slipped the book from her. She glanced up at him, raising a brow as he slid a different book into her hands.
"I believe you will find a more satisfactory answer in here," he said, amusement hanging on his words. "Unless you would prefer the gossip." He dangled the other book between his forefinger and thumb.
With a shake of her head, she tilted the book and found the words "Liminal Bridges" embossed on the spine. She opened the book and read through the first paragraph while Miraak returned to his seat.
"This!" she said, her eyes wide. "This is exactly what I was looking for!" As quick as her excitement filled her, it waned. "You've already read this. And you've already decided it wasn't useful."
"Actually," he said, "it was one of the more interesting reads."
Her gaze moved from him to the book, her fingers flipping through the pages and catching on numerous dog-eared corners.
"I found the same interest in the Oblivion Gates," he explained. "They have been used several times by the Daedric Princes to bring forth their forces into Nirn. The possibility of using one to do the same… it had been the first solution that seemed a possibility."
"But…?"
"Continue reading."
Returning to the book, her lips moved with each word she read, silently discovering what made such a plausible solution impossible.
"You can't get a sigil stone."
He shook his head. "To do so would require the assistance of a powerful daedra. Only a Daedric Prince would have a chance of even accessing me here, and none would attempt such a thing," he explained. "Disregarding that I have nothing to offer another Daedric Prince. I doubt my experience as Hermaeus Mora's tongue will garner any recommendation."
"If one offered you a deal," she began, "would you take it? Even after making one with Mora and it biting you in the ass?"
Miraak chuckled. "I seek nothing more than freedom, but I cannot discount that I would have died if not for Mora's intervention." His head fell back against the seat. "But I do not think I could make such a deal. Not again."
"Could we substitute a sigil stone?" she asked, thumbing through the book. "I mean, even the book says it may be possible."
"There is another book," he said with a sigh. "The Doors of Oblivion. It describes the journey of a scholar through the eyes of his assistant. The scholar had managed to enter Oblivion without the use of a gate, but the actual means is, of course, excluded from the text."
She frowned. "Of course."
"Each of their attempted methods originated from Nirn, however," he explained. "Rather than escaping Oblivion, they sought to enter. Even if they had recorded their ritual, I am unsure whether it would allow for a return. The scholar did not return."
Telyra hummed in thought, sinking slightly in her seat as she stared at the book but paid no mind to the words. She could feel Miraak's gaze, even through his mask, apparently waiting for her response. She could strike a deal with a Daedric Lord, she thought before immediately deciding that was out of the question; while she wanted to do anything she could to help Miraak, selling herself to the wiles of whichever Prince decided to give her the time of day was the not the direction she was willing to take. No, there had to be another way to get a sigil stone… or make one.
"I don't think we should forgo this option," she said, meeting Miraak's eyes-well, eye holes. "A gate seems like the most plausible solution, and we should at least try."
He let out a heavy sigh and turned away from her. "I did," he said. "Or, at least, some semblance of the idea." His arms crossed over his chest. "During the Second Era, Molag Bal deployed anchors throughout Mundus in an attempt to pull the realm into Coldharbour. I attempted to do the opposite, with myself in the place of Mundus and the destination being Nirn."
"The All-Maker stones," Telyra mumbled, looking to the side.
"Correct."
Her cheeks burned, a sense of regret settling in her gut, despite her refusal to abide by such methods. "You know I had t-"
"I am aware," he interrupted.
"But I don't think that renders this impossible," she said, swallowing her guilt. "You still have the Tree stone. Your temple is built around it. There has to be power there."
"There is," he said, "but not enough to open a bridge from this realm to Nirn."
"Not at the moment," she pointed out, "but that doesn't mean it can't reach that level."
"How would you imbue power to a stone when its connection to its sisters has been broken?"
"I mean…" She shrugged. "That's what we need to figure out."
Miraak scoffed and tilted his head. With a sigh, he said, "I suppose this provides us a direction, if this is, in fact, the path you deem worthy of focusing our efforts."
"I think it is."
He nodded and stood. "I will seek out any material they may aid us in this endeavor."
"You don't know any off the top of your head?" she teased. "I assumed by now you'd have every book in existence memorized."
"There are things even beyond my capabilities," he admitted.
"Shame," she said, standing and following his lead to a pile of books. "Would've made this much easier."
He shook his head. "How does your friend fare against a constant barrage of pestering?"
"He's had a long time to get used to it," she replied. "And he gives as much as I do."
"You have been friends a while then?"
The question came as a surprise: too simple, too normal coming from someone who'd spent eons trapped by a Daedric Prince. Her hands paused in their rifling before she responded. "We grew up together," she explained. "Our fathers were old friends, and after they both lost their wives, they wound up living nearby and helped each other. Erik has always been like my brother."
A soft hum was his reply.
"Did you have any friends?" she asked, feeling silly as soon as the words escaped her. "Other than Vahlok."
He stilled a moment, seemingly caught off-guard at her question. His head tilted back a bit as he replied. "Vahlok was certainly my most dear before he…" he trailed off. "But there were others. Those who were quick to join my rebellion and remain by my side despite the difficulties we faced."
She moved to the table he stood in front of and leaned her hip against it, facing him. "What about from your childhood?"
This time, he looked down, opting to settle his gaze on the books in front of him. "I… do not recall much of my time before reaching adolescence. Whether that is an effect of remaining here for too long or those memories were lost long before my capture, I am unsure."
With a frown, she pushed, "Do remember anything at all?"
He turned and settled his lower back against the table. "When attempting to bring forth any memories of such a time, I am merely given flashes."
"Such as?" she asked, stepping in front of him.
He glanced at her and crossed his arms over his chest. "You are so insistent."
She offered him an innocent grin.
A sigh was his only response until accepting she wouldn't give up. "I often see a young woman, sun-beaten skin, gray eyes." One of his hands reached out to Telyra and gently grasped a loose strand of her hair before tucking it behind her ear, the leather of his glove just barely grazing her cheek.
Her body froze, her eyes darted between his hand and his face as her own burned and her stomach fluttered.
"And hair a similar shade of burgundy as yours," he muttered. His hand yanked back to his chest, as if suddenly aware of his action. "I, ah, believe this woman to be my mother," he stammered before turning around. His hands returned to the books, and he fell silent.
The whisper of his touch remained, the shock of the encounter still jolting through her. Blinking herself out of the stupor, she shook her head and reclaimed her spot beside him, opting to hop up onto the table and sit.
He didn't look at her.
"What about your father?"
"I cannot recall him," he admitted. "It is possible he was not heavily involved in my upbringing. Though, I do not believe I was with my mother for much longer after the discovery of my innate magical ability."
She leaned toward him slightly, hoping he'd at least tilt his head, but he remained forward. "Why's that?" she asked, hiding her disappointment.
"Children the priests believed to be of great talent were often taken from their families and raised and educated in the monasteries," he explained. "Those unable to adapt or overcome the challenges given to us were… discarded."
"You mean they-" Her mouth seemed unable to catch up with her thoughts.
Miraak nodded. "Such talent was nurtured and made greater before their failing," he said. "To return these children to the commoners would have been a great risk to the dragons and priests. Any semblance of power not under the direct command of the dragons threatened to instill dissent, which could eventually grow to a level that threatened the dragons themselves."
"So, they just killed them off?" She grimaced.
Again, he nodded. "Life under the rule of the dov was never stable," he said. "At any moment, one's existence could be determined too great a risk or too worthless to remain. Only dragon priests held any modicum of safety, and even then, it was only if they proved absolutely devoted to their masters."
"Is that what made you decide to rebel?" she asked.
He glanced at her. "No," he replied. "It was learning of my true nature, of my being dovahkiin. I learned I need not follow the whims of the dragons, for I held the same power. It was Mora that aided in this discovery."
"He told you were Dragonborn?" She furrowed her brow. "How would he even know what it was? You were the first. There can't have been any knowledge about it."
"Mora is not only a master of garnering any and all knowledge," he explained. "He is a master study. I believe he knew me to be different, and he watched, just as he had and will likely continue to watch you. When forced to fell a dragon who had dared question Alduin himself, its soul enveloped within my own, and through Mora's research, he determined mine to be of the same making as the dragons'.
"I do not recall his exact explanation," he continued. "I merely heard him say I alone held the opportunity to free us from their oppression. And at my piqued interest, he offered his aid."
"And you accepted it."
"I did not believe I had a choice," he explained. "I could think of no other route that even whispered the possibility of freedom."
"Little did you know…" she teased, her tone light.
He scoffed. "Never did I expect to spend millennia in Oblivion," he said. "In fact, I did not know what to expect. I believed any payment required by Mora would be worth providing freedom to those who sought to escape the dragon's oppression."
"Even if you knew being trapped here was a possibility," she began, "would you have still thought the deal was worth it?"
"If I had succeeded," he said. "If I had fulfilled my promise and saved my people, then yes. I would have believed the deal to be worth it."