A/N: For anyone still reading here, I do also post this story on Archive of Our Own and maintain it better over there(as in, fix grammatical errors and generally check up on it more frequently). I do also find the formatting of the comments/reviews so much better and I love to hear your thoughts!
Vanya slammed her mirror down on the desk and whined in frustration, pulling apart the braid she'd been working into her hairline. While she was grateful for the things Nalami had lent her, they now sat in front of her taunting her in her lack of finesse. To say that she'd feel like an imposter once it was all on her was an understatement. If she could just look the part and try to do the finery some kind of justice, then she'd be satisfied.
The first step toward that had been having another bath. She hadn't been sure of her chances of going to the barracks washroom in the middle of the day, but when she'd mentioned it to Teldryn, he had not only agreed but gathered his shaving kit and taken her straight away. She felt a little bad for the few guards who'd been lounging in there, as Teldryn had pretty much kicked them out as if they were invading his personal master bath. He had only shaved his face this time, and since she hadn't been asked to assist him like before, she had taken her sweet time bathing. The strange mood he'd been in persisted, as all the questions she'd asked about what to expect tonight seemed to bounce around the room with his vague, distracted answers. She couldn't pretend it was just the stress of the last couple of weeks that was stealing the ornery glint from his eyes.
It was crushing him, whatever was on his mind, and as much as she hated it she had no room to share the weight. She could barely carry hers as it was. This space between them felt precarious, a tug of war with a frayed rope, petrifying the grip she had on everything she'd hidden away. She couldn't let go, she was too weak to pull.
Her tears landed in her lap and she was thankful to be alone as she let them fall. Another favor his mother had given her by demanding his presence. She wiped her eyes took a few breaths to gain her composure. She couldn't do this right now. She didn't want to field the questions that would come if he returned to a crying mess.
When she raised the mirror again, she sighed. Not only were her eyes red now, her hair was at the perfect dampness to frizz in the worst way. She shouldn't have washed it again. The advice she remembered from several hairdressers in the past was that it was better to have unwashed hair for styling. Of course, that advice probably applied in a world where there were styling tools and products, and for someone who knew how to work with those things adequately. She'd been proficient enough with a blow dryer and a flat iron, but it wasn't like she was going to see either of those things before the advent. Or ever. Two washes in three days was a little excessive anyway. Oh, but it felt so good.
Her eyes drifted over to the wrapped garment, the sliver of the gorgeous burgundy that peeked out making her want to knock the candlestick over so that it would go up in flames. She threw the mirror down again, disgusted at such an awful, ungrateful thought. She'd worn a couple of prom dresses, and tried on several wedding dresses before choosing hers, it wasn't that big of a deal to wear a pretty dress. She used to look forward to this kind of thing. Her head rolled back as she sagged in the chair. So what was the big deal then?
Teldryn's low voice rose from within. Do you think you are undeserving?
How could he look at her like that? Say those things. Give so much and all but tell her to take more?
She would. He didn't have to say it. That was all she had done. Absorbed everything he offered into the gasping void, dark and ravenous as the place that created it. The intensity in his eyes, in his touch- his love. She didn't deserve it, but she took it anyway. If he didn't want to stop, neither did she. It was a joke to even think she could.
And it was a joke to think that her hair was going to make a difference as to whether she fit in at this event. She sat up again and reached for the jewelry box, pulling it open. The rubies of the comb caught the light in a luminous sparkle as she tilted it back and forth. If all else failed, she'd just stick it on her head somewhere and call it good.
A knock at the door broke her from her gem induced trance. She set down the box and pushed herself up to her feet. The short distance to the door wasn't too much trouble so long as her ankle was wrapped securely. Even better that the ground was flat and even. It gave her a little bit of hope, at least, that she'd be able to manage something close to a normal walk someday. She opened the door to see Bralsa waiting patiently, arms folded.
"Hey," Vanya greeted, surprised.
Bralsa smiled as she entered. "Hey. So I heard something interesting just now."
Vanya closed the door. "Oh?"
"Oh," Bralsa confirmed, heading for the evidence on the desk. "So it's true. You are going to the advent."
"Umm, yeah. Where did you hear that?"
"Hazard a guess," Bralsa drawled as she looked over the comb.
"Niyya," Vanya said, rolling her eyes as she started to make her way back to the chair.
"She'll probably be here any moment." Bralsa picked up the jewelry box, giving in to the compulsion to tilt it in the light. "I could hardly parse her words she was speaking so fast." She looked over, tutting loudly as she put down the box and met Vanya in the middle of the room to offer support. "You need a walking stick, girl. Wonder if Glover is good with woodworking. Or Fethis could put in an order."
Vanya grimaced at the idea, adding, "Or Nathala could donate her staff as penance for being a bitch."
Bralsa's laugh filled the air. "She's so small she could give you the lower half and not be any worse off."
"Not be any worse off?" That didn't sound right. Vanya settled into her chair, feigning haughtiness. "Nah, I want the half with the pretty stone."
"Getting a taste for it hm?" Bralsa nudged the jewelry box as she sat against the edge of the desk. "So what's the plan here?"
Vanya slouched, pouting. "My hair."
Bralsa made a face, skimming her hands over her own wayward strands. "I'll be no help with that. I'm about ready to chop this all off again."
The image of Bralsa with a mullet appeared in Vanya's mind, making her laugh suddenly.
"What," Bralsa asked with a smile.
"I don't know," Vanya groaned as she sighed the giggles away. "This is all so crazy."
Bralsa was quiet for a moment, her expression sobering. "You don't have to go if you don't want to."
"No, I do," Vanya replied quickly, insisting," I do. I'm just really nervous about it."
Bralsa nodded. "Don't let all this pageantry get to you. They're just people. Eating food while wearing fancy clothes." She picked up the comb again. "And jewels. So long as you can eat, it looks like you'll fit in just fine."
It sounded so easy broken down like that. If only it could just be the clothing and jewels that were the problem. "I bet I can tell you something Niyya hasn't heard."
"What's that."
"Dreyla asked me not to go."
"I stand corrected." Bralsa said briskly, dropping the comb unceremoniously back onto the desk. She leveled blazing eyes on Vanya. "Not all of them are people, some of them are sniveling, jealous cunts."
Vanya snorted. "Jealous, really."
"She's waited a long time for her...elevation."
"And I'm not a Dunmer."
"That doesn't make you matter any less to me," she retorted, almost chastising as she crossed her arms. "Or to Teldryn. Where is he anyway?"
"His mother is holding his outfit hostage," Vanya said, somewhat comforted by the outrage. She picked up her mirror again to see if her hair had magically decided to not be horrible. It hadn't. "Nalami is actually quite pleasant..." Vanya frowned at her reflection. "I think. I guess if she had anything impolite to say, she'll give it to him in exchange."
"Was he intending to be back to help you get into this dress?" Bralsa said as she leaned across to lift the cover and take a peek at the garment.
"Dunno, but I can manage to put on a dress."
"Mmhmm, but it will be easier with help, yes?" Bralsa pushed off the desk and walked around the chair to bundle the dress into her arms. "Let's see it," she said as she headed for the bed.
Vanya turned in the chair to watch her unveil it. "I'm wondering if it will fit. She's definitely smaller than me."
Bralsa shrugged. "Suppose there's only one way to find out."
They both looked to the door as it burst open. Niyya was maneuvering a large tray in with her, already speaking energetically. "I think I've got everything I need here..." She interrupted herself with a gasp when she saw the dress that Bralsa had just finished laying out. A stuttering squeak came from the redguard as her eyes darted between the desk and the bed, her body twitching like she couldn't decide what to do first. She kicked the door shut with her heel and rushed toward the desk to set down the tray, emitting a high pitched squeal the whole way.
"Look at that gown! Oooooh!" Her eyes glowed as she caught the jeweled comb in her sights. "This is so fun, Vanya. You're going to look so wonderful! Alright, alright..." Niyya took a couple of breaths to calm herself and Vanya couldn't help but smile at her enthusiasm. Bralsa rolled her eyes, shaking her head.
"Now look here," Niyya continued, excitement still brimming in her voice. "I've prepared some cosmetics...or the best I could come up with. I still have to mix a few ingredients, but you'll have a comberry paste for your lips and cheeks and a liner of soot and oil for your eyes."
Vanya's jaw dropped as she pored over the array of items on the tray. Small bowls of creams and oil, comberry wine and jelly and an assortment of spatulas and small paintbrushes. "Niyya, that's amazing."
"Yes, well..." Niyya beamed as she busied herself with her concoctions. "Don't tell Geldis I filched some of this from his stores. Although, he probably won't mind, just this once."
The door creaked open once more, a light knock sounding just as none other than Geldis peeked his head in. "Good day, girls. I saw a bit of commotion here, is everything alright?" He glanced between them all. "Am I intruding?"
Vanya waved him in happily. "Not at all."
He closed the door and stood in the center of the room with his hands on his waist. "So what's all this, then?"
"Vanya is attending the advent," Bralsa answered, motioning toward the dress. "We're helping her get ready."
"Did you know that is Teldryn's mother's dress?" Niyya interjected. She turned to Vanya. "You simply must tell me all about her."
Geldis hummed in understanding as he gazed over the tray and eyed the bowl Niyya was now mixing very intently. "I see you are all prepared."
"Almost. We've one thing left to determine," Bralsa said as she returned to Vanya's side, grabbing a handful of her hair. "What to do with all this."
They scrutinized her for a few moments and Geldis approached, raising his hand to his chin. Just when Vanya was about to dismiss her hair as a lost cause, he spoke up. "I have an idea. Every so often during festivals, my mother would put her hair in curls by tying it with strips of cloth. It's a rather intensive endeavor for one person so she'd have me help. Seeing as I have some extra hands here, I think we could get it done and your hair would dry in time."
Niyya nodded, impressed. "That's better than anything I would've come up with."
"Worth a try," Bralsa said.
Vanya smiled. "It's perfect!"
"Excellent." Geldis spun on his heel to leave. "I'm certain I have some worn linens we could cut up. And since we'll be here a while, I'll bring something to eat as well." He looked back just as he reached the door. "The usual fare," he added with a wink.
And just like that, it was as if Geldis had taken her cloud of doubt with him. Her tempered spirits flourished as she realized they might actually pull this off. And no matter how it turned out, she decided, she had the very best friends.
So much needless stress for equally needless embellishment, Teldryn grumbled internally to himself. The main hall of Morvayn Manor had been rearranged by the time Teldryn passed through, the primary change being the addition of the ring shaped dining table in the center. The corridor leading to his mother's room was now the focus of the servants, their energy more hectic as the culmination of their hard work neared. More than ever it seemed bloated and hollow, a mindless thrall moving but not breathing.
Perhaps that was just his view of it. Modyn seemed to accept it as necessary. The captain had always adhered to what was right. All Teldryn had figured by now was that it wasn't for him, though neither had it felt right when he'd gone back to the barracks to sift through the personal trunk he kept locked there. He'd needed to swap out for his netch armor as well as ensure there were no final repairs to be made. There were other items he'd collected over time, which he'd sorted quickly by objective value to determine what would stay. He'd leave his chitin, he'd decided, though it pained him. Chitin was novel in Skyrim and he'd always worn it with pride, the attention he received handsomely benefitting his prospects for work. More than that, each piece was custom built, from the pocket for his long pipe to the precisely fitted knee guards. Worth every coin he'd paid in premium to the master smith of the Redoran army after years in the wastes had taught him what he needed. And the only thing that he'd taken with him after making that first cut into the path he'd been carving for the past forty-three years.
Ultimately, armor was armor and he would commission another set later, in a material that did not identify him.
One fortunate occurrence in all this was the rediscovery of the spell tome that had vexed him so. He adjusted the book under his arm as he raised his fist to tap his knuckle against his mother's door. She was likely the best person he knew who'd be willing to assist him in understanding it. He hoped. She had called him presumptive earlier, but she'd also given what he'd asked. Granted, what she'd given was not really for him. And who in their right mind would deny Vanya a single thing?
His mother opened the door to welcome him into the escape she had brought for herself. It dawned on him as he entered that despite his longstanding opinion that she kept her spaces too cluttered, each piece that surrounded her would have some personal meaning and purpose. He'd never afforded that distinction for her, blind child that he had been.
She closed them in and whisked around him without a word, disappearing behind one of her dividers. After a few moments of hearing her shuffle things around, he decided to move to the bed to take a seat so he could at least see her while she mulled over what she wanted to say first. It would be a lie to say he hadn't expected her to be ranting by now; perhaps over not responding to her missives in a timely manner, showing up with Vanya this morning unannounced, or just about any action he took that stepped over the hard lines of her expectations. Which as far as he could remember had been damned near all of them. The longer she stayed silent, the more he wished she would go ahead and eviscerate him.
"Netch armor," she said finally. "It looks almost like the set you left behind."
Teldryn frowned at the sentiment. Netch armor was so common, of course it looked similar. He watched her as she headed toward him carrying a mirror and some of her hair accessories. She settled in next to him and placed her items on the bedside table. It was on his tongue to ask if she would have preferred him to clear out all of his belongings when he left, if that would've prevented her having to look at them in his absence. He kept his silence, in the same way that she did and likely for the same reason. They each knew the other's criticisms and defenses, as well as the utter futility in raising them. The quiet held no comfort, either.
She focused on her mirror, brushing her hair and he observed in her profile a reflection of Modyn's countenance the night before. Teldryn sighed. He hadn't meant to do this to them, to make them fight so hard to be on his side, forcing them to cast all their hopes into this tomb of resignation. What could be done for it now? What could he say? He knew not where to begin so he resolved to wait for her. Whatever explanation she wanted, he would offer without reservation.
She set down her brush and began gathering her hair back into her hands. "Why do you wear it now?"
He rubbed at his face. Fuck. Evidently, they were starting at the top.
"Modyn knows about Selvilo," he answered.
Her hair stayed suspended as she smoothed her hands over it, her movements slowing ever so slightly. "What did he say?" she asked carefully as she reached for her jeweled hair sticks.
"Essentially, that he no longer trusts me. I can't blame him for it." Teldryn took a breath, drawing his fingers mindlessly along the edges of the book on his lap. "I changed into this armor because when the Northern Maiden departs, I am to be on the ship. This is less recognizable"
She continued twisting her hair onto the sticks as she processed that he was to leave. Her face twitched slightly with disgust. "Skyrim. He sends you straight back into hostile territory."
He shrugged. "No more hostile than it has ever been."
"What of the talk of Ulfric and his Dragonborn retaking the island?" She finished tying up her hair, checking her work over once more in the mirror before shifting to face him. "You possess invaluable insight in this matter. Could you not prove yourself by staying here to assist?"
"Not to Modyn." Teldryn shook his head. "He's far too angry. Any information I have to offer is tainted with what he perceives as betrayal."
Her eyes fluttered closed as her frame deflated subtly. "The wastes hid you well for many years," she said. "Can you not go there?"
She raised her eyes to him, the true question in them searing like a spray of glowing embers. Can you not come home?
"Alma, It's not- " His words fell to pieces, scattering as his mind grasped at them to begin putting them back together. Home. Blacklight, Morrowind, the great expanse of the wastes. He'd searched already, from parlor rooms to back alleys, netch huts to the blinding ash storms that swallowed the horizon. It wasn't there. "Modyn is sending me away, yes," he managed hoarsely. "But this is not banishment, nor hiding..." He grimaced. "At least not exactly." Fucking complicated. He exhaled slowly, giving his thoughts time to reset. "He doesn't need me. To figure this shit out, he doesn't need me. And he will figure it out. He will find a reason to trust me again and until then, I will follow his word."
His mother's expression was placid, solemn. The face that had often met the uncompromising tide. "And what of the girl? Will you tell her?"
He grit his teeth, resenting what it meant that she knew he had yet to do so. "I should," he muttered lamely.
"It does not hurt less because you did not say it." Her voice sharpened the point of her gaze on the side of his head, pressing like cold steel.
"I know." Vanya deserved the truth from him, just as his mother did. And he deserved to see their pain. "I can't avoid hurting her," he said as he tossed the book aside, leaning his face into his hands. How did it always come to be this way?
His mother hummed softly, lifting the book from the duvet. "Would she not accompany?"
That he could not give an answer outright grated at him. Part of him would rather spirit Vanya away at the risk of her ire than pose her the question. She might forgive him in time. Then again, she might not. "This is the only place that she's known."
"How can that be?" she asked as she cracked open the book, flipping a few pages. "When she has only taken residence within the past year?" Teldryn tilted his head at her conversational tone. She had been talking with Dayn indeed. The flow of information between them was not equal, as evident by her stalwart protection of his confidence.
Vanya's confidence was another matter entirely. Were he to betray it now, what reason would his mother have to keep it?
None, he thought bitterly. It was almost amusing that he concerned himself with the way others might hurt her when it was he who wielded the blade. He might as well commit. "This is the only place she's known on Nirn," he said lowly. "A detail that only I have been aware of until right now." His mother lifted her eyes slowly to meet his. "You felt something with her, didn't you?"
"The lack of something, to be more accurate," she said, raising her chin. "Yes. Her magicka is silent."
"Silent or...entirely non-existent."
She looked down at the book, sliding her fingers along the pages as she considered. "Silent", she concluded. "Her body is receptive. If she were inert then only the secondary elementals would affect her. Restoration works, that is enough to know her flesh is not barren."
Teldryn sat up. "What needs to be done. To free her mind. Do you know?"
"That would be difficult to say for even the scholars of the College of Winterhold," his mother replied, bemused. "She is an anomaly, there are too many unknowns for me to even venture to guess. She ages as a normal human?"
"I believe so," he sighed out along with the small burst of hope.
"To exist without magic...", she pondered with a shake of her head. "Azura's Mercy, at least her life will be short."
His hands tightened into fists. The callous talk was not meant to be cruel, still it bit into him just as his nails dug into his palms. "I was the one who brought her to Raven Rock, did Dayn tell you that?" His eyes snapped to her. "We discovered her half-starved in a den of reavers. That was her welcome to Nirn. From a world that- as far as I can tell- is nothing like this one." The anger building in him was not for his mother, despite the wary look she wore. She heard pity in his words, it sounded like it to his own ears as he spoke. As if he'd simply collected an injured guar and given it a name. That wasn't it. Not at all. How could he possibly explain?
What came to mind was the way her face lit up at the smallest pleasures, how she could arrest him with a glance, the soft curves of her lips gripping him like the strings of a marionette such that even a hint of her smile brought him joy. It was entirely banal, and strangely sacrosanct. It was madness. Gods, the more he thought about it the more he wished he would have said nothing. "Alma, she is good," he insisted. "She deserves the good things in this world and she has not been given them."
The corner of her brow rose. "You seek to give her these good things?"
The skepticism that laced her tone did not deter his reply. "If I knew what they were, I would." Although it was more apparent each day that he didn't know, at least not anything that would make a difference. Perhaps she was justified in her doubt. "Here, in Raven Rock, she is cared for," he said in defeat. "Here she is home."
The air in the room seemed thin and stifling at the same time, a drawn stillness like the span of a vase dropping to the floor. His mother's whisper shattered the silence. "You love her." It wasn't a question, nor did it carry the energy of an accusation. It was a simple statement of fact, self-evident and irrefutable. Still, he guarded his response. He would not allow her to admonish him for it.
"I don't expect you to approve."
She made a dismissive sound, setting the book aside. "I know the limits of my influence," she retorted. There was the accusation. "Indeed, there are many reasons I would have once given in an attempt to dissuade you. We are long past that, are we not?" He looked at her as she reached out carefully, resting her hand on his bracer. "It matters not what I think of this woman, but Teldryn, if you hear one thing from me, hear this. Regardless of all that surrounds her, she is only human. No matter how much you love her or how much of yourself you give, by the nature of her existence she cannot keep you whole. You understand, yes?"
Her words crawled over him like stale air from the depths of an ancient cavern. Still, the answer hung in the back of his throat, weighted by its truth. He could only nod.
She released his arm with a huff. "If that was as good of an argument as I would like it to be, your father would be sitting here with us now. I did everything right and yet, here I am, alone." She scooted further away, crossing her arms over herself. "So what is right?"
The sight of her folding inward sent a chill over his bones, as if he were out at sea watching a lighthouse crumble. He slid from the bed to his knees, the touch of her sorrow reaching a place that he'd sent to the depths long ago. "I'm sorry, Alma," he said, placing his hand on her legs. "I'm so sorry."
Her breath quivered as she raised wet eyes to him. "For what."
Gods damn her, but she always knew how to break him.
"For not being there," he forced out roughly, over his heart that had lodged in his throat. He stared into the deep black of her dressing gown as tears clouded his vision until he had no choice but to drop his face into the fabric. "For not being someone who makes you proud."
"Oh, my son." Her cool palm brushed the back of his neck as he wept into her lap. "My heart. Do you think that I love you less because you took your own path? It is difficult to watch you take it. My worries are endless." She raised his chin in her fingers, using her skirt to dry his face. "Look at you now, all that you are. All that you are capable of." She leaned forward, her nose nearly touching his. "You will always be mine, Teldryn, even when I cannot speak it aloud."
The tenderness in her eyes washed over him, in answer to a question he would never ask. Those eyes that never faltered despite all that he'd done and said to thwart them, intentionally or otherwise.
She blinked, sitting up straight. "Enough," she said as she pulled the book into her lap, causing Teldryn to back away. "Why did you bring this, hm?"
Teldryn cleared his throat as he resumed his seat on the bed, considerably relieved. He watched for a moment as his mother perused through the book as if she were simply finding her place.
"My attempts to learn that spell have been unsuccessful," he said. "I need some help."
She hummed knowingly. "I find that I'm not surprised. Auras take patience." A page scraped against another as she turned it slowly. He narrowed his eyes. It wasn't a refusal, though neither was it agreement. He clamped his lips together to keep from pressing for clarification. Eventually, she clapped the book shut. "I can show you. But not with Destruction."
"But Alma-" He strangled the argument the moment it tried to leave his mouth. They didn't have much time and this was the spell he needed to know, but her raised brow told him clearly that he would not get ahead of her. He relented, bowing his head.
A slight grin pulled at the corner of her mouth as she said, "Show me your calming spell."
This dress robe fit too well. Teldryn made unnecessary adjustments to the sleeves as he walked through the tavern toward the hallway. He'd anticipated his father's clothing to be a little small, as the last time they'd stood eye to eye it hadn't quite been level. It did not seem outside the realm of possibility that his mother had made some preparations, evidenced by the the sly smirk she'd tried to hide when he'd remarked on it. He could admit he was not entirely uncomfortable, his only reservation being that now he was both unarmored and fatigued as the lesson in auras had been as frustrating as it was enlightening. If not for the overwhelming parade of obligations pushing him to events he didn't care for in clothes that weren't his, he would acquire several magicka potions to continue this enticing new endeavor. Alas, his mother and Vanya would not be pleased if he abandoned the former, and it was truly such a simple thing. The aura could wait.
His door was unlocked and he thought for a moment when he opened it that for the first time in his memory, he'd gone to the wrong room. He moved in cautiously, taking in the scattering of food and drink as well as...paint and shredded linens? Their personal effects were undisturbed and before he could attempt to piece together the mystery it was resolved perfectly as she appeared in the doorway.
Sheogorath's Beard. The dress fit her, too. Better. The color he only vaguely noted previously now striking him with its intensity, the way it picked up the flush in her skin making her radiant within the frame of soft waves in her hair. He only noticed Bralsa when she leaned in to whisper in Vanya's ear, then she was gone.
"Sorry for the mess," Vanya said as she closed the door.
He'd already forgotten.
She motioned over her shoulder. "Bralsa was helping me uh...use the privy one last time before we...um...it's pretty awkward in a dress like this." The shade of her cheeks darkened as she bit her lip.
He thought he should say something, but he knew he was a fool. Even to say she was beautiful would not suffice, for she was always beautiful. It was that look, the one that made his throat dry and asked questions that he yearned to to know how to answer.
Anything. He'd say anything she wanted- give anything she wanted- if she would just keep looking to him.
She did more than that, taking a step his direction, inviting him with one raised hand. He was there in an instant, bringing her into his arms and he'd never so appreciated soft silks and perfume, or that tantalizing rouge on her lips that he knew would smear if he kissed her now in the way he desired.
She graced him with her smile, dark eyes twinkling. "You clean up well for a brigand, Ser Robin."
She spoke of her fable, a small piece of her world she had shared with him. He tried in vain to recall the damsel, to play along and join her game. Ser Robin's love, though, bore no comparison to his own. Finally, he managed to breathe, "My Lady."