1E 700, "Walk-Brass"
The walk towards the summit was a quiet one, and if Nerevar were more knowledgeable in matters concerning the heart, he would have had some comforting words for a situation such as this one. Azura knows his dear friend had need of an understanding mind, even if said dear friend kept brushing the issue off like it did not deter him in his step towards their current goal. But Nerevar was perceptive, almost as much as Voryn was − just as much as the latter tried to deny as such − and he couldn't help but notice that something was still so terribly wrong. If only he could find out what it was, exactly, that tormented his companion so.
From the moment Voryn returned from his meeting with Dumac and the tonal architect, and had during that time learned of the revelation they both knew now, of matters far beyond their scope of knowledge, he had been acting odd and surprisingly expressive. Uncaring almost, of how he came across to those concerned for him. And just a few days before they left for Red Mountain, he had mentioned an indiscernible song that kept echoing back to him − one without physical traces, in all his vague descriptions.
Only he appeared to be privy to it, it seemed, and Nerevar couldn't help but wonder why that was and whether he should have brought it up with the rest of what remained of the First Council after all, but the very notion only served to anger Voryn when the Hortator would attempt to broach the subject. It was a personal matter to his friend, an issue not befitting a council meeting, in Voryn's words precisely, and he wanted it to be left like that.
Now, however, and although the one beside him still stubbornly kept silent about it, Nerevar had grown accustomed to the frequencies in which Voryn kept hearing that… song. Nerevar, empathetic as he was, felt the effects torment his sweet friend. This was all too apparent in Voryn's mannerisms and in the way his eyes kept shifting towards the summit with thin-veiled anxiety, in his oddly short steps and in the way he kept touching the left side of his face as if to soothe an invisible wound. Nerevar then came to realize that his friend was scared. He was scared of something Nerevar could possibly fail to defeat.
"It seems we have arrived," Voryn muttered, calculating and determined eyes staring at the entrance of this so-called Heart Chamber, which entrance culminated from bulking machinery that spat clouds of steam into the air, almost silencing Voryn's comment were Nerevar not so close by his side to hear it so clearly. Voryn then looked at him and said;
"Now then, shall we enter?"
And in they went, and from the stark contrast of nothing but rocks and ashen grey, only with the occasional, short interlude of gold and steam, their halfway journey opened to what looked like something otherworldly, as there truly was no other word to fit the description.
Where there once was rot in their vision − days spent seeing nothing but ash and rocks on the field of battle − now there before them lay a metallic expanse, and in it, a mechanical monstrosity far more fearsome in its implications than what Voryn had first described to the council some two years ago. Intruding upon this empty yet so vigorous dome came stronger than a shock; to see this world so divided from the rest of the mountain's appearance spanning its reaches across the empty blanket of the hollowed inside.
It ruled an entire kingdom on its own, it seemed. Golden shapes and an unfamiliar, inanimate biodiversity stretched towards an indiscernible horizon; towards a sky that couldn't be seen; beneath the earth that seemed artificial, filling everywhere that was tangible but still within this plane, with sounds that hissed mathematically throughout the top and bottom of this hidden realm. Though Nerevar supposed that terms such as borders, ends and corners were insignificant concerning a conception such as a chamber for the vessel of a soul.
This mirage, as was understood between the two onlookers, had presumably been conglomerating from one growth, years in the making, into what existed now before them: a heart that bound together illusory pockets of frighteningly realistic gory red and black, all uneven in size as if to imitate a heart much like one of their own. It was senseless and logical altogether and it was the strangest thing Nerevar had ever seen. This, he thought as the thing pulsed visibly, swelling twice with sharp, aggressive thuds.
That same heart kept the mechanical giant alive, or it was what should have been thought of as alive; now it looked like a ghost of a machine, moving but unmoving; walking, or reaching in the air, rather, but remaining stagnant in its stride, as if it was trapped within a stasis; unable to move without some kind of intervention, or a trigger to tap into or interact with that which would give the giant its life. Strangely enough, the beating of the heart trapped within golden hooks for ribs didn't seem to be sufficient enough to mould the giant into a moving state, Nerevar noted with curiosity. The absence of an unknown power, at least, was relieving.
And it was so quiet aside from a humming sound, for this was no organic place like that of the living − there was no birdsong, nor a ruffling of breezes, and no senses to meet these hypothetical impressions. Nothing at all. Why, perhaps this world, in its inorganic state, was simply no world at all? At the very least, it seemed to act as a translator, a conduit; another plane of existence remade by those that perceived and understood it differently, all merged into a collection of ideals to create a single gateway to the next world.
It would have been a desolate sight − especially with the bottomless pit that surrounded the frame of the body and an ominous atmosphere looming above the multi-colored flames writhing against the ceiling's rounded edges − had it not been for the feeling of living things laying down their weight on that atmosphere, making the place feel all the more possessed with the possibility that someone or something was watching their next move, even if, in their terms, it did not live and would never come alive either.
Then there was a pause, a question: why did this place belong here? What sealed the existence of this being? Everything that held it together were words in a foreign language, a musical alphabet that could never be considered material, or even discernible. It seemed this world had not reached its completion yet, even though it had been standing there for so many years already, in the expanse of nothingness, in a dry, safe place within a mindhive.
However much it appeared to be in its prime, it was festering; dying to wake up from the nothingness, if the swell that they could taste in the air ever were to reach its peak. It would die, yet gain something anew, like an outer shell out of many mantles weakening, as well as the invisible rope binding this world to consciousness. There was great danger to be felt, in a place so mystifying to the mind still so dulled to the concept of transcendence.
Next to him, Voryn beside him appeared in a daze, uncharacteristically dismissive still of his surroundings but for that silent song Nerevar had yet to hear. This much he would ever know, Nerevar thought sadly. He could tell, however, that his dear friend lamented for the knowledge and enlightenment he might never understand or at least grasp fully. The observation did nothing to alleviate the Hortator's worry.
"So it is indeed coming from here," Voryn said dully, voice hitching slightly, accompanied by wide eyes looking up at the giant that housed the mechanical heart. Nerevar then turned to him, and if Voryn were to meet his eyes, he'd scold Nerevar for his pity.
"Perhaps it was ill-advised, coming here. I don't believe we are meant to be in this place," he continued in a terrified tone, which had Nerevar recoil slightly in surprise at Voryn's candor, to hear him frightened without hiding it as much.
"You intend to leave me in the dark still? You know I don't like seeing you in pain," Nerevar observed gruffly, trying, and failing, to feign nonchalance. He knew, or sensed, rather, that there indeed was a certain severity to that which they had both yet to understand. That
something was crackling in the air, simply waiting to strike, or at the very least catch them unawares while they yet lived and breathed. Still, the Hortator's silence on their impenetrable whereabouts was enough for Voryn to acknowledge the Hortator being of the same mind.
But Voryn laughed a short sound that croaked, and singed his tongue with a caustic retort − abruptly stopped. Then he brandished his dagger and casting hand, ready for a danger the Hortator had yet to sense.
"My lord," Voryn urged, his eyes narrowing with every second, then turned this sharp gaze towards a point behind Nerevar.
"It appears we are not alone."
1E 700, Rain's Hand, Almalexia's chambers
A figure sat on a wooden balcony bench meeting sideways the solid stone, their frame partly surrounded by a corner that had long since been without its awning, and so they had a perfect view of the surface of the galaxy and onto the stars that inhabited it, where a falling, glowing rock, only once in a while, shot its final journey through the vast and dark firmament.
It was warm also, oddly enough − just enough so that even in an early Rain's Hand evening they'd had to forgo their extra layer of protective armor lest they sweat the thing out.
Two identical lanterns were lit above them, and alongside the dance of torchbugs did the lamp heads catch alight every other creature that flew about the balcony of the royal chambers − around the poles, around the vines all wrapped around the lines of the architecture.
Ludii was alone. Almalexia, bless her soul − a six-hour-long council meeting did nothing to lift the spirits, especially not with the intent of planning a future war − had lowered the curtains on the waning sun long ago, and in the haze of nigh unconsciousness, had been elsewhere for about two hours now, sleeping soundly in her bedroom. But her lover was still awake, as they were indeed dallying on the chamber's grand balcony, a gaze not befitting the serene evening directed solely above them, watching the flying light of bugs greeting them in the moments their eyes were open to accompany a vision with a thought.
War preparations were being made, on a beautiful day such as this one, and Ludii grieved for the loss of tomorrow's innocence. Nevertheless, their beloved crew was ready and their ship would be fully equipped to set sail come morning, and now they had found themself a moment in which nothing needed their attention for once. Ludii was aware they should have joined their lover a while ago, yet they could not seem to find a way to stop the circulating thoughts that spoke of a certain… uneasiness, of a mishap not yet revealed to them. No, tonight was a waiting game, yet one still so kind to the eyes, and pleasant to the skin. They knew this would not last, so here Ludii simply sat in contemplation, entertaining or at least trying to rationalize the trepidation.
Somewhere, an atmospheric rumble sounded from countless walls below them; the closing of day just a bit earlier than was the norm.
Some handful of decades ago the people of Resdayn had opted to coin them and their crew the "Warriors of the Deep" in light of their efforts − namely Resdayn's victory against the Norden armies − and had them greeted to the mainland with open arms that bore gifts and other trinkets to show their appreciation for their timely arrival during the eve of that last battle. It was a good feeling, to be useful, and to help those they now loved
Ludii breathed in, breathed out. These last couple of years had seen changes aplenty; they had all grown older in all the ways a mortal life would, and along that parallel change, against the counting of such a lifespan another − Chimer society, as well, had seen a lot of reform, and strife. But in all their seemingly infinite years did cracks surface, both apparent on the body and on the spirit. Everyone knew that some things did not have to come to pass.
"I thought I might find you here," came a voice behind them, along with a fiery mane that quickly followed. Ludii snapped out of their daze and saw her.
Almalexia looked as stoic as ever, as she wade in from behind the thick tapestries that separated the outside from the inside.
"You only come here when something is bothering you," she observed then and looked at Ludii as they unfurled from their spot on the bench and walked over to where Almalexia remained standing close to the edge of the balcony. There she looked down upon her kingdom with a wry smile gracing her tired features. She, too, thought of all the love she bore for her kingdom and her people now in a different light, under different circumstances, for they were grave.
Ludii could not help a fleeting thought that, as Almalexia kept silent, she, as well as they, suffered thoughts not all too untroubled on the eve of war. It was in those moments that one might find themself at the crossing of a contemplative state wherein concepts so foreign to mortals ‒ and try as they might ‒ such as death and the afterlife were brought to the surface of the mind.
"Ah, well, I simply had a bad premonition, but worry not, you know my thoughts about such things," they said, caressing so softly the skin that Almalexia's loose tunic had offered them bare.
"We will emerge victorious. We always do, don't we? You and I, no matter what comes," Ludii smiled crookedly, knowing the tune between them both, while hands busied themselves massaging the tense muscles that visibly strained Ayem's slightly heaved shoulders. Those shoulders that carried the burden of future inevitabilities, just as they had done for countless ages.
"And you? What plagues your rest, 'Lexi?" Ludii tried, and succeeded. Almalexia let out a heavy sigh and placed her own hands on top of her partner's.
"I've been awake for a while, in truth, sleep continues to elude me tonight, it seems," she finished and crossed her arms.
"That is not so strange, no? So close before the morrow? And you seem tense. I could give you a massage," they suggested as they let their hands travel lightly down across Almalexia's chest and stomach, guiding her hips to swerve a bit as if to dance to a song that wasn't there.
And even after so many decades together, still Almalexia shivered and smiled happily, as if on muscle memory. She filled the silence with a hum and closed her eyes. Ludii was so sure that, right at that moment, they had already emerged victorious, and that maybe, somewhere between the chasm of understanding, love would win the battle of tomorrow.
"I never tire of you, Ludii," Almalexia broke the comfortable silence. "It's frightening, really, just how dear you are to me," and Ludii would later deny the way their hands stopped in their tracks, would deny an emptyheaded and giddy smile.
"'Lexi... oh! My heart swells for you upon hearing your words!" Ludii exclaimed, and placed one hand on their chest, and the other on their forehead, as if parodying a romantic play, then opened one mirthful eye to dare a look at the queen.
Almalexia snorted ungracefully and let her head fall onto Ludii's chest, with raised hands to place on the other's waist, squeezing there, and trying to contain the giggles.
"You've been spending too much time with Voryn, it seems" Ayem said airily, still giggling.
"Well, he is my very good friend, after all," Ludii answered, their mischievous eyes locked onto their lover's mouth. And with an unconscious stroke, parted Almalexia's lips slightly with an equally mischievous thumb.
"I love seeing your smile, you know that?"
"Hmm... my, you really are just unusually sentimental tonight. Are you certain everything's well?"
"Aye. Truly, it matters not. Come to think of it, it is quite silly of me to dawdle here, seeing that we are better off towards sleep," Ludii said and took Almalexia's hand in theirs, and the caress of a thumb over her knuckles was answered in kind.
"I tire of watching the sky anyway. It pales to the sea somewhat, even if it holds infinite possibilities. I find that it scares me, all the same.
But it's reassuring to know there is a limit to the things we can touch, and an end to all those things − an eternity seems like a cruel conception."
Almalexia squeezed their hand again, this time much too faint.
1E 513, Last Seed, Ludii's vessel, "The Skyleaf"
At night, there was serenity. Well, as much serenity as one seadot of a ship with a ruffled, feasting crew could muster.
The storm had calmed down during sunset and now the water below traced many of blues and greens that blurred together at the waves when they folded, as if following the dim shine of dusk's mirror image. The parting lines were awashed with black but foamy dots that flickered back and forth with a much gentler force than the one that had wreaked havoc on the now encrusted wood of the ship that afternoon. The barnacles and weeds the vessel's sturdy shield had acquired during that tumultuous journey didn't seem to let go, making the surface of the wood appear older than it actually was. The captain briefly grieved for the loss. However, the damage was amendable; there was no reason to feel this way.
Though the port side might have swerved lightly still in the aftermath, no longer did the ferocious tides that had threatened to swallow them alive. Now the captain folded their looking glass and grinned slyly, narrowing eyes locked onto the border that bookended the edges of the Padomaic ocean, and to the lands of Sheogorad. In all their years sailing these waters, they knew that, when one looked at the horizon's direction − an end that was and simultaneously wasn't − it grew hard not to fall into reminiscence of the past. And they remembered memories woven long ago, they did, and when they came into her life.
Later the captain would find it ironic when they failed to hear Almalexia's tentative footsteps, and failed to feel the reluctant warmth of another hand next to theirs.
Ludii watched her out of the corner of their eye. It was indeed a calm interlude that had her face turned towards the sky, with laugh lines that had considerably grown these last few years curving upwards until they caught the accentuating of the still shining sun. Almalexia, now along with her companion she had been meaning to talk to, found a mesmerizing stupor. No one compared to the queen ‒ not ever had they met a mer that was so blunt, yet so graceful, so serious but still playful. Most people missed that about her.
"I love the sea, especially when it's like this," Ludii spoke suddenly and with a sigh, and if Almalexia's flinch that was apparent in the way her hand twitched against Ludii's, the captain did not speak of it.
"Though I can imagine Seht thinking differently on the subject," Ludii said as they turned their head to watch Vivec pat a nauseated Sotha Sil on the back after the magician had had a particularly strong seasickness-induced vomiting episode.
"You reckon it's cause for docking?" Ludii continued after a long pause, their eyes casually flicking back to the queen, anticipating for an answer. Or gouging a reaction, rather. Almalexia had been strangely silent so far.
Almalexia perked up and followed their gaze, with a grimace formed when she saw that which met it. The sight was sobering enough that she found her speech stuttering not even once.
"Oh, by Azura… perhaps we should have insisted a little harder on leaving him out of this excursion. Though, knowing Seht, he would have shown up at the docks bright that day and early anyway," she commented, fondness she bore as clear as the water beneath the keel. Ludii smiled at Almalexia's love for her friends and comrades, and it was only when Almalexia looked their way that they had managed to garner a neutral expression.
"If I may be so bold, captain. Does it not frighten you, to daunt these deep pockets of Nirn, so filled with that which hides from our sight? That simply waits for us to give up and fall into its nothing? I cannot bear the thought of giving into that morbid allure, the curiosity, of seeing what is held within."
Ludii looked down and thought it would not be a bad way to go, with Almalexia by their side. The captain looked at her then, just as the queen turned her head towards them.
"I do not fear a watery death, nor do I regard this unknowable vastness an aggravating obstacle, to be truthful, for what good is a ship without its supposed enemy? A ship learns from its journey, and without water, there would be nowhere to go. Water is a giver of life in more ways than one, and a ship dies or seems to wither away when unmoving on the tangled currents of the great sea, or rather, when it's without it."
"I see," Almalexia muttered. "There is that practical side to it, one without cause for fear. I admire that about you − your willingness to acknowledge it for what it is and still venture into the unknown. Foolish the idea might be."
Ludii looked at the queen then, a tad bit starstruck, as their companion, however, quickly averted her gaze to hide a complexion that had started to redden, but she did not cower.
"This ship is unliving, yet it is alive. It seems to cross the seas as if travelling the currents of time, just like we do, in a prolonged but limited longevity. Perhaps one could say this ship − and pardon me for intruding − is an extension of your own being."
And the light that dipped into the thickening line of the horizon, red and orange all converging into a simmering, bright silver then spread towards a dusky ocean shimmer. The moon would rise. A sea started to turn dark and invisible. The sun had died today. And yet.
This darkening mirror that surrounded the ship, it longed for a desire beside fundamental purpose, and so it climbed upwards within its physical boundaries to catch the last light that warmed the surface, as if aware that its companion would soon leave it and the reflection they both created behind. However much these waters were impressed upon, it would not be warm a whole lot longer. This, the sea knew. And yet.
The sky was completely dark. The sun had to continue its journey elsewhere for however long it was allowed still.
Soon, it would grow cold again. And yet.
Ludii smiled warmly.
"You may be right," they began, meeting Almalexia's eyes once more;
"Can you feel it still? The warmth in the air, rising from beneath us?" The captain said without inflection. And for their lack of melody, the air was filled by the soft chain of chimes of a golden tether when a breeze whispered past them.
Together they watched the moon climbing higher, the silence a comfortable one.
"Ah, never mind me, but you have made me come to a new realization, yet another one in this long winding line of a life."
"I know now that one can't be forgotten, can't be broken down, as long as one of two lives, for a memory of two is one. And as long as you are in remembrance, you live."
And thus the ship rocked against the waves, just as it was wont to do.
?
It is quiet again, so quiet, even, that it reminds you of home. But home is warm and here is cold, because even though you are bleeding − hot blood trickling down onto the rocks that bruise − you feel a frigid seizing of muscles below you, and the forceful shivers that make your form convulse along the pain riding along your body.
That you realize you are dying does not surprise you; you know yourself even in the vaguest of notions. Now, however, with the fears that upend the mind yelling aloud the harsh whispers prophesying your future death, you wish you did not, and that, through the bliss of obliviousness, you could forget the pain of the wounds that are slowly making you disappear, that you could ignore the voices so sweetly lulling you away towards a place far from what is known to you. That you could ignore the soft air holding your face in a manner that is too gentle.
In these cold moments you realize that you don't want to leave. You try to feel for the weakening heartbeat you felt an eternity ago but it seems it is no more. A dying friend, a dying lover, has passed now and you can only blink in disquieting disbelief. The cold skin meets you deeper now and your breath comes in and leaves you again in shallow waves that make you strain to breathe in fully without having to feel the sting of your still mortal wounds.
With time, you begin to feel calmer; the thought of leaving when there is nothing left to hold dear calms you, makes you bargain with death and cruel fate no more. So you wait for whatever may lie beyond the scope of what you see and feel now.
There, you confuse Lorkhan's being inside the heart for that of Nerevar's. You think it is so for desiring two separate things you want equally and in turn mistaking one for another.
You deliberate over the better allure − to be willing to enter something so curious, to join a presence so stimulating, so tempting, or to be with the person you would sacrifice your own life for. And soon enough, you think there is little choice.
It comes so suddenly, so strongly, that perhaps you can have neither of those things. That, right as you are now, you feel undeserving of death, or the sweet taste of eternity. But death gnaws at your arching flesh and you, and all that is left, cower before the incline that awaits you.
You wait until scattered. You pack your bitter grief that surfaces and numbs your fears and thoughts completely, and you wait through the final tingle that travels from your wounds to the outward outline of where your body rests. You cannot feel the ground beneath you, and you wonder if there even is one still and whether there exists waiting in a place where time is confined.
As you ponder the unanswered questions in a hazy delirium, you dream in the emptiness existing between undying minds. And your soul, nowhere but right there before the eye that is elsewhere, is torn by air dissolving and matter that loses its energy.
You dream. You dream until you awaken again, and you gather a star.
1E 700, "Path of Apotheosis"
Almalexia observed the ruins of the battlefield from a distance.
As it were, the appearances of the mechanical soldiers, or their unrotten carcasses rather, ranged from smaller, common-looking spheres − that, in their relative abundance formed a protective line in front of the innermost row − to the grandest of their counterparts: fearless creatures donning majestic, golden waves of solid gold that had light riding across their gleaming textures, revealing to the observant eye intricate machinery underneath. And the spine-chilling face of a dwemer sitting on top of it.
Here, Almalexia's armies had burst into song, and there, caskets of sujamma were being broken into, all along the tents that had their banners risen high. The queen would have smiled along with the generals were it not for the knowledge of what was to become of her people weighing heavily down upon her shoulders.
She made a headline for the tent where the council sessions had taken place so far, where, as Ayem knew, Ludii would be, as she had assigned them temporary command of one of the troops groundside.
And that's where she would find them − with their grin a broad, wild crescent effortlessly relinquished, knowing the battle had been hard fought in the end. And it would be a tired smile, one that for the power held within, could last longer than a lifetime.
They would look breathtaking dressed in their battle armor, sweat lining their brow and forehead still, and their face aglow with the knowledge of being victorious, and alive. Almalexia, confidence gathered with that one image, was then struck by tender nights and that morning's tender sunrise, where she had slid her callused fingers across the flesh that Ludii bared to her. Dressing and arming one another for battle still a ritual between the two
They and their crew had been fighting alongside the Telvanni mages, unaware of everything that happened above. To them, the battle's chapter closed with the understanding that the Dwemeri forces had simply vanished and that their mechanical mer had broken down, as regaled by various gleeful Redoran warriors when Almalexia and her entourage, consisting of solely Vivec and Sotha Sil − both of whom had not spoken a word − passed by the triumphanting soldiers in their march towards the council tent.
The three entering were met with frazzled but relieved stares that had Almalexia briefly begrudging the state of her armor − ruptured and torn. Bloodied with…
Just blood.
In the quick silence that was just as quickly followed by jubilant bellows that sounded upon the three council member's arrival, and their good health, Almalexia strode forward with deceivingly confident steps and placed the tools on the table with a series of clangs that resonated throughout the tent.
"At ease. The Heart Chamber shall be secured swiftly. Tell the heads of the companies to gather here, " Almalexia addressed her subjects shortly − a half-lie, one by omission, but a lie nevertheless. She ignored the freezing of her heart as several messengers strode past her to carry out their orders.
"There is much to be done still… Seht, Vehk, take the tools to my tent. I'll want to have them analyzed before departing. I myself need time to… think."
Ludii's crossed arms and piercing stare the queen knew would be there, Almalexia glossed over − she dared not look in their eyes and see that… foolishly unrestrained worry.
Sotha Sil and Vivec left the tent. An oppressive air that had not been present earlier lingered, now that Almalexia was alone with the captain.
And her hands were shaking as well without anything to hold onto. This, she hid by placing them on the war table, thumbs curling around the edges to hide the intermittent tremors that would betray her loosening grip on her sanity. She had half a mind not to scream aloud the request for Ludii to leave her be, but even this was starting to wear thin − she needed to be alone. Something so grand was on the precipice on reality, and with the tools…
The dream the queen had had before she awoke again inside the Heart Chamber, just after the unfortunate fight with a crazed High Councillor − shed light on many things, and, most importantly of all, on the origins of the strange heart inside the metal monster; on the tools… Lorkhan's tools − Sunder, Keening and Wraithguard. Ayem knew that what they found was no ordinary Dwemeri craftsmanship. No, these pieces as one together was a compressed divine mass that could grant one immortality, among many other benefits. And oh, the power she would wield to protect her people, to protect her kingdom. The power… Ludii…
"'Lexi! Hoy!"
Ludii…?
A realization so damning set in. Her lover would not be spared from the wrath of Daedra. Oh… What would become of them?
Almalexia felt the gloved hands of her lover. They picked at her pauldrons, trying to brush off the ash that had hardened within too many crevices.
"What happened? Where is Nerevar? And what of Voryn?"
Almalexia just shook her head. It was too soon, too much of a shock. Now her hands were shaking without restraint. Ludii's eyes, sad and scared; their friends not being among them alluded only to one conclusion.
"I cannot tell you. It's…I'm…"
"Don't you and I tell each other everything, 'Lexi? Please, I know there is something you wish to tell me still, but will not, you… can't," Ludii pleaded, voice straining against a tightening throat, with eyes threatening to spill, were they a weaker mer. They stroked Ayem's cheekbone with their thumb in desperation; saw that, within those eyes − which were neither fixed on them or anything else − was something detaching her from what was happening in that very moment. It was like Almalexia wasn't there, and it broke Ludii's heart, to see her hurting this way.
"It's those tools, isn't it? You dreamt of them?"
Almalexia looked up, and what was most surprising to her ‒ because she had never seen an expression like that on Ludii's countenance − was a look of knowing, a strangely disappointed kind of knowing. From the very start to the bitter end, as if already foreseen, they had known − something. Yet they had never interfered with the course of fate trapped within the yarn; there, standing on the sidelines. Observing.
The queen's shoulders grew cold with Ludii's warm hands no longer there. Her lover's back was turned to the queen now and Almalexia feared the worst. Now Azura's curse and the promise of power were so far away from her mind.
"Whether it be by carriage, on foot or by boat, anywhere, I would have followed," Ludii said, and, facing the exit, they were lost on the tells of a most grievous expression Almalexia hid behind a mask of a cold, steel gaze. She, too, could not look her lover in the eye, but her hands still clenched in frustration.
To whom was she speaking? And why did it feel like Ludii was disappearing too quickly?
"But it appears we have arrived at an impasse," Ludii said, the pin-drop of their voice like thunder resound − they had stepped back then, one step further from her, and where there once was desperation was a now bitter resignation. They curled their lips downwards when the dawning sun caught the shadow of the war table behind the queen, grit their teeth and marched out of the tent.
But their stride did not amount to much, because outside, the sky was beginning to darken, and the volcano of Red Mountain was glowing a bright and ominous red. An eruption never recorded in history before would soon open to an era anew.
1E 418, Sun's Height, Mournhold's courtyard
It was during the wedding ceremony of Almalexia that Ludii discovered they were capable of a very, very green envy, so green, even, that their crew of all people decided to give them some personal space for fear of upsetting the captain even more. The newly crowned Hortator was as quickly wedded off to the queen as he was goaded into a position of power by hungry vultures that flew around inside the Resdaynian court. The mer seemed too military, too gruff and, most importantly, too kind hearted to stay in a place whose corners were filled with clever deceit and masked disdain. So however much they hated the matrimony between the two mer, and, consequently, came close to this… strange and unnecessary feeling, they sympathized with Nerevar, as they could, in some ways, relate to his life story. Even though they themself would never choose to accept the position of a monarch of sorts over absolute freedom.
Ludii swallowed a sigh in the goblet they held onto with a subtle death grip. He seemed pretty enamored by the queen already, Ludii observed, and scoffed at themself for it. Well, his eyes did not lie, and especially with this apparent attraction that had already bloomed, Ludii related to him, and in a fission moment of childishness, compared the two of them and wondered what they lacked as a partner to Resdayn's beloved queen. But the captain knew the painful truth already and so kept to the oblivion that was feigning ignorance of their hurt. It was in the past and Almalexia had already chosen the best option that was, allegedly, most beneficial to the wellbeing of her people. A political arrangement, as written in the laws of their land, would be the most logical step towards the forging of a powerful government and thus ascertaining coming victories.
And of course, they knew Almalexia was aware of what was happening ‒ that the queen had willfully accepted being demoted to wife, in Ludii's "crass" words, spoke greatly of the love for her people, but Ludii? They simply wished it weren't so, that there was some other way that didn't include marriage.
They just hoped they would find the courage along the way to put trust in Almalexia's decision.
Sighing again, this time aloud and yearningly, and all the while looking at Almalexia's pendulum swing, Ludii peered at the royal pair that performed their bouquet dance. Across the cloth cut from the finest materials hugging a particularly round and wide curve of the queen's backside shone the rays so warm and broad a multitude of soft yellows and a brightness that rivaled Moonshadow's colors. Oh, how Ludii wished they could place their hands on them and not feel guilty doing so.
Ludii wondered when, in these two meagre years, they had fallen in love with a mer so different from them − a queen, of all people! To be comparing a powerful mer's alluring beauty to Daedric conceptions they did not even consistently practise, but knew the queen residing in Mournhold did. To attend a wedding they hated to see, but felt required to attend anyway in the case that Almalexia had need of her friend. Though, as content as she seemed now, Ludii thought that their support was likely not needed.
They were starting to fall in love, which was, for all their years on Nirn, still a terrifying truth.
"They look good together, don't they?"
Ah.
They should have expected Voryn to be lurking around somewhere too.
Casting a side glance the other way, Ludii noted the High Councilor's displeased frown, which now, was even more upside down. He, too, was looking at the dancing couple, but his eyes were not focused on Almalexia, or on the sway of her luscious hips, but on her partner that had the people around him charmed already.
"They do not," They said with a pout, and intended to leave it at that, before being struck by the ghost of their mother chiding them for their pettiness. They were in no mood to talk, not even to someone they would call a good friend. Still, what their eyes fed them tasted sour on the tongue and bonding over the agony that was yearning from a distance suddenly didn't seem so bad.
They looked up again and offered a smirk.
"Well, one of two does does," they added, implying Almalexia's radiance to be superior, and knew that, with Voryn's even more volatile heart, when shown, they would get a reaction rather quickly. And soon, a guffaw sounded next to their ear, making Ludii struggle to hold their composure together − it would not do to stand out in this crowd. They simply settled for a wider smirk that was partially hidden in the goblet they raised to their lips again
Soon, they settled for a comfortable silence, even if a bit tinged with uneasiness at seeing their respective desires dancing together still, now surrounded by a sea of moving bodies.
Briefly, Ludii considered asking Voryn for a dance, if only to blend in with the crowd, but knew that neither of them would enjoy the romantic connotations that came with such a thing ‒ there was not a single couple roaming the dancing isle that appeared to be simply friends with the way they all clung desperately to one another.
"Well, only one thing left to do now!" Ludii exclaimed after having finished their drink.
"Wallow in self-pity?" Voryn goaded, his long, red nails digging into his crossed arms. Oh, he looked so genuinely upset, which was usually a funny sight, but now they only had sympathy, one she felt a kinship with.
"Nay, my friend! I am going to collect my crewmates and get drunk, which, now that I ponder upon it, is not so different from self-pity," they answered his questioning bemoaning and looked him over once more, ultimately coming to the conclusion that the Councillor needed to lighten up, too. So!
"You should come along; you look ready to tear through your clothing with those frighteningly long nails of yours."
Voryn heaved a sigh and nodded absent-mindedly, eyes still fixated on the Hortator's form.
"Hm. I think I shall take you up on the offer, your crew does make for some pleasant company."
"I am relieved to hear it, and surprised! Seldom are you upfront with your feelings, Lord High Councillor," Ludii cackled and punched his shoulder good-naturedly before dragging him away and out of his gloomy demeanor.
"And my nails are not frightening! They are tactical. There is a particular disparity between the two," he added after a couple of seconds.
"Whatever you say, Voryn," Ludii returned with a lingering grin that their friend returned wryly but sincerely. And through the crowd they weaved, Ludii leading him to the place they knew their crew had gathered.
Little did Ludii know that Almalexia had been watching the captain too, on occasions where her eyes slid over their direction. And how little they knew that she was smiling at the thought of her friend attending a wedding they would have rather missed. By Azura, she'd have to clear things up with them − such envious expressions did not suit their beautiful, handsome face at all.