Guide:
Dwemeris
Thoughts
"Speech"
"Dovahzul"
Warnings/Disclaimer: see chapter 4
Chapter Warning(s): Homosexuality of the non-explicit sort. Fluff. Also contracts and politics, don't worry about it.
A/N: Thank you all so much for your support! It really made me happy to hear from you! I got such amazing PM's of people liking the chapter I'd been beating myself up over, just, wow.
FFnet won't let me re-upload the previous chapter so bear with me for a bit.
ANYWAY, HERE'S 7000+ WORDS FOR YOU TO ENJOY!
Last time… "I never really got the chance for this, did I? Welcome, travellers, to the Blue Palace."
Chapter 47 – Make your Move
Elisif laughs a little, and it sounds a bit broken – understandable, seeing what we'd all gone through. Her face falls after a moment, and she runs a tired hand through her already unruly locks.
"Now. Due to recent events, I have a proposition for you. Solitude stands strong not only because of me; my court plays a key role in ensuring that we do not succumb to threats such as Potema Septim or the accursed civil war."
Her expressions darkens further, like clouds for the sun, and I worry my bottom lip between my teeth as I watch the young human like a hawk. I'm curious where she's going, I'll admit. She places her hands palm-down on the table as if to prevent herself from fidgeting in her agitation.
"Erikur, that son of a – ahem. Erikur, one of Solitude's former Thanes, attempted to flee the city through the catacombs. He ran into Potema's cavalry instead. The vampires have since been taken care of by the guards, and Erikur, Daedra take him, perished. This event leaves me rather… lacking in court members."
Elisif's gaze sharpens as she looks upon us, and - I don't know if it's my imagination, but is she holding back tears?
"Erikur was found guilty of being a traitor to Solitude posthumously. He was also one of my most prominent links to the rest of Skyrim via his businesses. The implications of this are varied and complex, but the most important thing right now is that all my information on current events in this province is checked for faults. That filthy backstabber made my job harder even than it needs to be. I hope to rectify this. And that, dear travellers, is where you come in."
Another pause.
"I wish to extend to you two the invitation to join my court as Thanes of Haafingar."
Marcurio and I exchange glances. A brief conversation in shrugs and raised eyebrows.
What do you think?
We might as well listen to what she has to say. We could always decline.
It might prove advantageous to us. What of Ulfric?
Fuck Ulfric.
Heh. Alright then. Let's listen to what my fellow Imperial has to say.
Elisif watches us 'converse' with a strangely knowing gleam in her eye, that disappears the moment I notice it is there. The jarl delicately folds her hands in front of her, leaning her elbows on the table so she may rest her head.
"What would such an arrangement entail, exactly?" Marcurio hedges carefully, mimicking her pose. It's an endearing sight to see, and I have to force my own eyes away from my friend in order to watch Elisif, who is grinning like the sabercat that caught the wolf.
"Usually, the procedure would follow the same lines as in other parts of Skyrim, if more stringent. You would need to become known to the people of my hold by showing them your capability and goodwill, then approach my steward in order to acquire a piece of property within Solitude. The former, I assure you, will not be an issue after your actions to protect and aid this city. Every citizen knows your names and brave deeds, Marcurio, Fjaldi."
I nod along with her slowly. I suppose that since Haafingar is one of the most powerful holds, politically, the regulations are stricter. I can live with that.
Marcurio is still focused, his mind clearly whirring with questions and ideas and half-brained plans. The young jarl doesn't notice my quiet contemplation as it is quite clear she has seen that my companion is by far more politically savvy than myself, despite the fact that I hold more positions than him.
She continues: "As it stands, there is a house available – Proudspire Manor." The jarl clears her throat somewhat awkwardly: "Currently, the deed is worth 25,000 septims without additional furnishings."
"I am certain that I can enable you to pay in instalments, I understand it is highly unusual to have that kind of money lying about. Buying it would fulfil the official requirements for thaneship. However, I think it is essential we discuss your expected duties as Thanes before you sign anything."
She told us about Erikur being her link to the world outside Solitude. It can be easily assumed that she expects us to keep her updated as we travel the province, thus making use of our ability to move freely and relatively safely at no risk of her own, and without having to make due arrangements with third parties.
By allying ourselves with Solitude, we would essentially be enhancing her spy network – discounting military operations, because I refuse to be involved with the civil war more than I will be already if I accept this.
I wonder why Tullius keeps insisting that Elisif is but an unknowing little girl in far over her head. He definitely wouldn't have come up with this.
The house is pricy, though.
Marcurio breaks me from my musings by speaking up: "Actually, Jarl Elisif, we may be able to pay the full price in one go. It will take a cart and two horses, but we can sell all the things Fjaldi has stored away in Hjerim and Breezehome. The gems, armours, and ancient enchanted artefacts will get us quite far all on their own – nevermind the amount of raw materials and Dwemer odds and ends."
Ah. He's right. Who would have thought my hoarding habits would become useful one day?
"We are not selling my Smithing materials. Nor the Dwemer artefacts." I mutter at him with a slight frown. As a Forgemaster, it is vital that I know where to get relevant materials at all times. Plus, blacksmiths sometimes unknowingly sell materials of lower purity. I also want to keep a bit of my culture in my daily life – even if that just means exchanging the normal Nord tableware for Dwemer cups and plates.
He holds up his hands with a smirk. "Don't worry, I won't even have to touch it."
"Just because you learned Telekinesis doesn't mean you have to shove it into every second conversation we hold, 'Curio."
Elisif, however, is frowning worriedly. "Hjerim?"
Oh, shit, right. Hjerim is a pretty well-known mansion in Windhelm, home of her current worst adversary.
"I bought it because I needed storage space and no other sane being would want a house that had been used as a murderer's hideout." I explain easily, watching her face contort into something between horror and relief.
"I… See."
Marcurio stretches luxuriously, further easing the tension that had suddenly risen in the room. "Right. So, let me make sure I am getting this correctly: you wish to make both of us Thane?"
The jarl nods. "Yes. You two seem close enough not to mind sharing accommodations. I figured you two were… Oh. And Erikur's house is not for sale until the investigation has concluded, which might take a while." Her face flushes, and if I were into woman I would have been swooning at the sheer attractiveness right about now.
However, I'm not, and I manage to keep a straight face as Marcurio coughs forcedly into his hand, averting his eyes.
I fight back a snicker.
Erikur must've done some stupid stuff if his place is being investigated thoroughly. Seriously, who keeps the proof of their fraud in their own house?
"You figured we were..?" Marcurio prompts.
"That you were married."
My brain short-circuits. I very carefully do NOT look at my friend – just a friend, don't forget that – and try to cover the blush on my own face and ears. But as my traitorous ears light up red like beacons, and judging by the sudden giggle fit of Elisif, I'm not doing a good job of covering it. Marcurio fidgets uncomfortably.
"Well, that's." Marcurio cuts himself off as his voice cracks.
I inhale deeply and let out a slightly breathless chuckle. "Well. We're not. It's fine."
The Imperial wizard next to me scratches the back of his neck a bit awkwardly, not looking at me as his eyes glaze over with a more vacant expression.
"Either way… I don't mind it. It would be nice to have a house to return to when all is said and done, I guess." He comments quietly, though the comment itself is far from disinteresting.
I stare at him helplessly as the truth hits me like a war hammer to the face.
That's right.
Marcurio doesn't have a home here in Skyrim. He was kicked out of the college in Cyrodill and travelled here as a last resort – I found him wasting his last two septims in a BAR, for Sithis' sake…
He deserves a home. And there's going to be a point where I will have to go to places he can't follow.
I can't let him return to the – to the fucking Bee 'N Barb, of all places.
Mind made up, I give Elisif a small smile. "I don't mind sharing a house." I already own multiple ones, and none of them feel like home anyway.
Not that I would be able to ever relax fully in a city where I met an undead Necromancer queen. Or any city where general Tullius lives, for that matter.
And I guess my time of hiding my affections for Marcurio is coming to an abrupt close, also. There's no way I can hide it from him when we live together – it's hard enough on the road, where privacy is a myth. He might even bring girls home. Or a wife, eventually.
Something in my stomach churns violently at the thought, dreadful and icy, and it takes everything to keep the ugly expression off my face. Damn. If I can't even stand the thought of it, seeing it with my own two eyes will probably end in Shouting.
Elisif seems pensive as she looks between us before giving her agreement, as well. "Very well. If you want the house, I will have it kept for you, regardless of the question of Thaneship. I take it you can make the arrangements yourselves?"
Marcurio nods before I can get a word in edgewise.
"Certainly. I can travel east and oversee the transport personally. Fjaldi needs to go visit High Hrothgar soon." He glances at me with a reassuring grin. He's right once again, it seems. I almost forgot about that.
"We can walk together until Whiterun then." I concede hesitantly, returning my attention to the jarl, who picks up a quill.
"And on the question of Thaneship - our duties to Haafingar, what would they entail?"
She smiles, and suddenly, I am but a spectator in a match, watching negotiations and terms like a blow-by-blow account of a gladiator match as Marcurio and Elisif get caught up in specifics, her quill flying across the parchments underneath her fingertips.
The words are too fast to follow, and to my great chagrin they descend into some Cyrodillic dialect after about a minute – my grasp of the common language isn't great enough to keep up.
At some point, they lean back at the same time, smug and satisfied looks on their faces before they turn to me in unison, and Marcurio's eyes are sparkling.
"Well, I would say those were fairly successful negotiations." The mage chirps, and Elisif turns the parchment over to us so I can read what was apparently agreed upon.
"Contract stipulations
Case: Marcurio Granius
Subject: Thaneship
The above mentioned agrees to the following stipulations of his Thaneship:
They shall keep Haafingar and her people safe from threats within and outside to the best of their ability.
They shall answer only to the Jarl of Solitude, standing at equal rank with the Steward…."
It went on to explain that Marcurio was to help Elisif with negotiations unless these involved me personally, and all in all gave him a lot of freedom to move around as he pleased, as long as he did not dishonour or betray Solitude. It also mentioned that I, of all people, could veto any order given to him by Elisif.
Not a little baffled, I asked why. "This clause… Why give me the power to veto your orders, Jarl Elisif?"
She smiles serenely. "That is quite simple, Dragonborn." I do not miss how she stresses the title. "Whereas I am responsible for the safety and well-being of Haafingar, your duty as Dragonborn require you to place all of Skyrim or even all of Nirn above one hold. Marcurio's primary loyalty lies with you, and I do not challenge that. I trust that, if my orders conflict with what you must do, you will not let them keep you."
I look back down at the contract, tracing the words absently with my fingers as I commit them to memory. "I see. And do I also get a fancy contract, then?"
She wordlessly hand over a second piece of paper, far shorter than the first.
"Contract stipulations
Case: Fjaldi dû Bthardamz, Dragonborn.
Subject: Thaneship
The above mentioned agrees to the following stipulations of his Thaneship:
They shall keep Haafingar and her people safe from threats within and outside to the best of their ability.
They shall report important news or developments from across Skyrim to Jarl Elisif the Fair personally at their convenience. If information is deemed unsuitable or too dangerous to know, the above mentioned retains the right to keep this to themselves, with exception of information that directly threatens Haafingar or its citizens.
They shall advise Jarl Elisif the Fair and the Solitude Court on any matter they ask of within reason and to the best of their ability.
They are not to aid Jarl Ulfric Stormcloak of Windhelm in his rebellion.
They are not to answer to General Tullius, delegate of the Imperial Empire.
They are to place the safety of Skyrim and Nirn above all the aforementioned points.
That is it. That's all the things she asks of me. She was, as a matter of fact, not tying me down to anything – merely asking me to advise her in matters she deemed important and to report Skyrim's situation directly to her. A far cry from the far longer and more restrictive list Marcurio had to contend with, even if I had been given the power to veto any point on his contract as long as it was for the better of Skyrim.
The contract was also a get-out-of-jail-free card in regards to my participation in the civil war. By signing this I would sing my loyalty in the war over to Elisif, who apparently did not agree with Tullius as much as her relatively inactive position in the war made her seem.
Perhaps she means to allow me to stay out of the war legitimately.
I gnaw on my bottom lip in deep thought.
"…Are these contracts made public?"
"They are kept in my personal vault. Only I have access to them. I will, however, inform my Court of your new positions. As such, word of your Thaneship will get out. But hopefully not the details of your contracts as of yet. I leave that up to you."
I nod.
"You are asking only for the advice and information I may give you." I state, though she correctly interprets it as a question.
"Indeed. I know I cannot claim your loyalty as I do with others – nor can I claim Marcurio's loyalty as, well, you got to him first. I ask only what you can give. I imagine the other jarls that gave you the title of Thane merely did so as an added measure of protection for their own holds, without actually giving you a contract?"
Another nod, and I don't even find myself irritated. I knew there was more to the Thane business than it being an honorary title. I am glad it was this. The jarls merely wish to keep me on 'their' side.
I cannot fault them for it. In fact, I'm glad that for all my titles I am not tied down to any hold.
Carefully, I place the parchment down. Close my eyes. Take a breath. Look at Elisif.
"So… Where do I sign, my Jarl?"
Her smile widens. Next to me, Marcurio laughs.
…
"Is there anything else, my Jarl?" I ask, a hint of teasing in my voice now, because Marcurio and I were quick to figure out that she became quite humorously flustered whenever her name was spoken without the mockery many outside of Haafingar injected into it.
"Please, I insist you call me Elisif." She murmurs demurely, but there's still a large grin on her face. It had faded, for a bit, but it was easy to bring back to her face. We'd just come out of a discussion of everything Marcurio and I could tell her of Skyrim's current political, economic, and social climates.
…She had… not been pleased.
"And yes, there is… something else you could do for me." She stands and moves to the mantelpiece of the room, where she retrieves a beautifully crafted horn that has seen many things. It was worn, and a bit downtrodden, but it seemed to glow with energy.
Marcurio's eyes are trained on me. They have been for a while now, and I ignore them with much difficulty. Elisif's gaze, however, rests on the horn, troubled.
"I should not burden you with more. Not after all you have already done, and will do for me and my hold, but…"
She's the first to be upfront about my Thaneship. I even got to hear of my Housecarl before she was sent after me.
Like that disaster with Siddgeir and Rayya.
It's not a bad feeling, to know exactly what I've gotten myself into for once in my life.
Actually, the feeling is very pleasant. I'd missed the certainty of it. Aye, I will support this woman. This… Queen-to-be.
Subconsciously, I relax, the hard lines of my expression softening into something calm as I watch Elisif turn the object in her hands.
"When my husband, Torygg, died… We made offerings to all the gods. All but one. Talos. As you may know, his worship is banned within the Empire. I will be forever grateful if you could take this War horn, passed down to him from his father, to the Shrine of Talos."
After a few moments of deliberation, I take the horn from her hands. "It would be an honour My Jar… Elisif." She sighs in relief. "Thank you."
Marcurio and I do not linger for a long time after that, soon finding ourselves in the courtyard before the palace, unattended by guards as the clean-up of the city is still in full swing, and they are stationed inside, helping to scrub the blood off the tile and the rugs.
It's almost surreal, the calm that surrounds us. It's like we are in a little alcove away from the world, away from the bustle of Solitude, the hectic dance of the Palace courtiers, the stink of dead draughr. The plants rustle in the fresh breeze, and the walls, rising high, provide shelter from the sun shining in the sky filled with clouds like the fur of young lambs.
It is silent when Marcurio turns to stand face-to-face with me, having caught onto the underlying tension emanating from me.
"I thought you were married" Elisif had said. Oh, how I wish that were true.
I swallow thickly, and avoid his eyes when they try to meet mine. It hadn't been the first time someone thought we were in a relationship either. J'zargo and Onmund, also, had figured the same. And who knows who else thought it, but didn't comment on it?
Quickly, a different subject!
"Granius? Have I heard that name before in some tavern story?" I ask after too long a pause.
A scoff comes from the mage. "Yeah… My many times great uncle. The brother of an ancestor, really. A battlemage. Ran off to Morrowind. Killed by the Nerevarine or something. It's not important."
He's still looking at me like I'm a puzzle he has to figure out.
"Is it truly that abhorrent?" Comes the abrupt question after minutes of not saying a thing, the silence turning stifled and awkward.
I blink at him, confused. "No..? He was related to you but why would I be bothered that he was killed by the Nerevarine or that he died at all, I mean, it was years ago..?"
Marcurio lets out a barking laugh, but the insincerity I can sense from it has my hackles rise. "No, no, not that guy. Not what I meant. Ugh. Forget about it."
I purse my lips and scowl at him. "I don't think so. Something is bothering you. What is it? I don't want to do this whole not-talking-but-still-cooperating dance again, Marcurio."
It's an oddly naked sensation to be out without my cuirass already, the red tunic I borrowed not doing much against the cold – but the intensity Marcurio gazes at me with makes me feel all kinds of exposed more than the teeth-clattering winds ever could.
"The idea." The mage states, as if that explains everything. He runs a hand through his hair in agitation, brows furrowed.
I try to ignore it, because his mussed-up hair is looking really nice there.
"Of us. I mean. The idea of us being… more. You looked disgusted by it at the meeting."
I'd love nothing more. Is what I want to say. Want to scream in his face actually. Because I'm frustrated that he could think for even one second that I don't love him. That I don't want to pull him down towards me by the front of his robes because his face is too far up to reach and kiss, and plant my lips on his.
Instead, I dance around the subject, too cowardly to face it directly:
"I do not resent it. The idea of us. Together. But I resent its implications."
I take a deep breath as if to breathe in courage, though the cold, biting air leaves me bereft of any. I can't even bring myself to look up at him.
"You know what I am. I'm not human. I'm not even a proper Dwemer, not with the soul I carry. And… Marcurio, just by associating with me I have brought you into more danger than any fee is worth!"
Now I turn to him, and his expression is closed, indecipherable, and it has me blurt out even more things that I never meant to say to him, a word vomit that makes me more nauseous the more I speak, but I can't bring myself to stop either. But my voice is quiet and not a little venomous as I explain everything to him:
"Didn't you stop to think for one second, Marcurio?I have so many enemies that I don't even know them all by name! If word ever got out that we – that you and I – Please, I can't do that to you.Don't make me paint a target on your back just because I love you."
I grit my teeth together so harshly that it's audible, and I'm so frustrated at how he doesn't understand that I don't want to do this but I would if only he'd ask - paint that target, a ring on his finger or a bead in his hair, glaring under the sun and showing everyone who to go after - the tears are burning in my eyes in a downright embarrassing display of weakness, especially since we're still outdoors and the illusion of privacy would shatter with an opened door.
Breathless and pissed off at myself, I'm sure I must make a pitiful picture. Angrily, I turn my head away, staring resolutely at the wall to my right, casting deep shadows in the setting sun.
I really didn't want a reply, but I know I am going to get one regardless:
"Do you think I'm stupid?"
Marcurio's glare could burn a lesser being as he suddenly lashes out, grabbing my shoulder and shoving me up against the wall, caging me in as his other hand forms a fist and slams into the stone next to my head, his fingers digging through the thin fabric of my tunic.
His lips are pressed into a thin line as the wizard stares me down, searching my face as if seeking a lie before letting out a sharp breath.
"I have given it much thought." He lets out a humourless chuckle. "For Aedra's sake, you're the Dragonborn. You're a guy. A time-travelling Dwemer barely out of his teens. You're an elf, and I'm 'just' a human. You have a fate larger than the world on your shoulders. I'd be an absolute idiot if I hadn't thought of all that."
Electricity crackles in the air around us, dangerously close. Startled at the sudden influx of magic I turn wide eyes to his.
"Do you honestly believe me to let you go because of who and what you are? I'm not that shallow, Fjaldi."
I can see in his eyes that he means every word, and it settles in my gut as ice, a stark realisation that I'm not the only one gone too far in this… mutual attraction.
I don't want to be the death of him.
His fist loosens, settling on my other shoulder as Marcurio bends closer to me until our faces are level with each other. The tense line of my shoulders uncoils at the reassuring hold, and he sighs softly.
"Fjaldi." He repeats, and my breath shudders at his tone, even though I can't place it.
Stubbornly, I look away to the side, observing an interesting patch of moss on the wall. Surely, it's more interesting than Marcurio's face, right? He hums thoughtfully, slowly moving one hand to my face. "Look. At. Me."
I growl low in my throat at the challenging note in his voice, turning to look at him with blazing eyes. The uncertainty grapples at my throat, however.
"You know I can't let you go if we do this, right?" I ask him, wavering. "My race gives their heart only once. I refuse to if you're not going to be fully committed." I continue in a lower, steadier voice. No matter how stupidly emotional I am, I will not settle for anything less than a 'yes' from Marcurio, regardless of whether or not he already has my - my everything.
His hand – fingers calloused, skin tanned and covered in small white lines of scars long healed, the pads gentle yet firm on my skin – takes hold of my face, cupping it and bringing it up.
His eyes are the exact same brown that I paid attention to, during that first meeting in Riften. Funny, how even though 'we' have changed, he really hasn't.
"If you honestly think I'd bother to follow you for free, drag your sorry ass out of dungeon after dungeon, learn how to heal you, that I'd go out of my way to support you and comfort you and let you sleep next to me every night if I wasn't prepared to give my everything to you, you're even more of an idiot than I thought."
What?
Something in my mind whirrs and clicks before stuttering to a halt. I think it's my connection to reality. Distantly, I'm aware that I'm staring at the mage, jaw dropped and eyes comically wide.
Words start to bubble up in my chest, forcing their way up through my throat and rolling over my tongue along with such an overwhelming sense of relief that my legs nearly collapse underneath me.
"I love you."
Now it's his turn for his eyes to grow wide, even as a growing, glowing grin splits his face in half.
"I love you too." He whispers, barely above a breath, and his arms pull me in towards his chest in a fierce hug, the mage burying his face into my hair with a small, choked sound.
He loves me.
Wait. Hold on.
"I'm not an idiot, damnit." I bite out, the sheer indigence at his stupid comment only now sinking in. For a couple of tense seconds, Marcurio just. Stares.
Then the situation sinks in and he bursts out laughing, throwing his head back, and I'm helpless not to follow him, my shoulders shaking and my breaths barely giving me enough air as we laugh and laugh – maybe a tad too loudly - until I turn dizzy, reaching my own arms around his waist to keep myself balanced.
"Don't worry, we can be idiots together." He chimes, airy and light and happy and gods, what did I do to deserve this man in my life?
Marcurio holds me a little tighter, and I hesitantly rest my forehead against his chest. It's… nice. Calming. I can even hear his heartbeat.
"You're my idiot now, though." I mutter under my breath, and his chest rumbles as he laughs again, free as a bird.
"So I am." He agrees softly after a basking in the moment for a while, breaking the hug and taking a step back, a weariness in his face that I hadn't ever noticed disappeared like snow underneath the summer sun.
I pause as I realize that, for all I've learned of Skyrim's culture, I don't know anything about how romance works in Cyrodill. Or even how Skyrim romances work. At all. Well, except for the sex thing Lydia and Rayya explained to me which I am still mortified about and Marcurio must never know.
Rubbing the back of my head a little self-consciously, I blurt out: "So now what?"
Do we pretend we're the same as before? Will there be courtship? Being wedded to me isn't something he expects right away, right? I'm not ready yet. Oblivion's gates, I'm not even ready for kissing, I think. I've never done any of this before. The hugging was nice, though.
I glance at him furtively as he tilts his head in thought.
Could we hug again? Or, maybe, cuddle? We've shared a bed for a while now… Cuddling in bed sounds nice, too. That doesn't answer the question of what we are supposed to be? Is there even such a thing as 'boyfriends' in Skyrim? Or Cyrodill, for that matter?
"Now we do whatever we want. As slow or fast as you like. I imagine I'm much more comfortable with these things than you are." The smile on his face turns to a smirk, his eyes gleaming. "Don't worry, I'll teach you anything you want to know. No secrets between lovers, and all that."
His not-so-innocent smirk fades back into a small curl of his lips. "For now, let's take it step by step. Starting with Whiterun."
Lovers…
I can do that. I can do this. At the end of the day, it's just Marcurio. The very man I've seen screeching and running along the river in his underclothes because a Mudcrab made off with his clothes. The same guy that drank himself under the table after spending a good three hours singing along to the raunchiest tavern songs, only to be left without his voice the following two days. The one who ran from a single old hag spotting him in the undergrowth yet took down an entire Falmer clan with a grin.
He really is a bit of an idiot.
I wonder what that makes me for falling for him.
Oh well.
…
"I should get some armour to tide me over." I muse absently., my mind not really on the practicalities of travelling through the wilds right now.
"I'm sure the smith will give you a good price, Mr. Saviour of Solitude."
"I distinctly remember it was me who took out Potema, aye."
"Excuse you? That was my cheese wheel that hit her in the head, if I may!"
"But without my Marked For Death Shouts that wouldn't have had any effect in the first place. Besides, that wasn't your cheese wheel. It was Sheogorath's."
A mock-thoughtful hum. "So, technically, Sheogorath killed Potema Septim."
I snicker. "He wasn't even there, though."
"That's the point with him! The Mad God killing an undead Necromancer Queen with a cheese wheel without even being there himself is… well, insane!"
"And that's what Sheogorath is all about." I conclude for him, and he chortles heartily.
"He probably wouldn't mind if you took the credit, though."
"Probably?"
"Like, 82% sure. He's unpredictable so he might hate you for it out of sheer ridiculous principle."
"Wouldn't he be against principles, though?"
"Don't break my brain please, those negotiations with Elisif were no joke."
"I'm not joking either."
"So you're saying that Sheogorath would not stick to principles because he has the principle of not sticking to principles? Don't we have a paradox there?"
"Pretty sure it's Dadaist."
"What's Dadaist?"
"Would you look at that? It's the blacksmith!"
Luckily for me, Beirand has a scale set in stock – the metal version, not the Dragonscale one, for obvious reasons. I don't bother haggling for it, and merely accept it gratefully when he also offers to help me improve the fit for my small stature free of charge. With the two of us, the work is done fast enough to finish before sunset.
The latest tavern gossip, which I keep an ear on out of necessity, only features what the locals are now starting to call 'Potema's Invasion'. I don't stick around too long downstairs, but by the time I enter the bedroom, Marcurio is fast asleep.
I'm too tired to think much on how we're supposed to be awkward around each other for a bit since we're starting a new relationship – with which I have zero experience – and so I crawl in next to him without fuss or delay.
I'd need the energy more than I needed the anxiety, to be honest.
…
After travelling together for a few days, we part in front of Fort Greymoor. "I'll take the horn to the shrine to the north of here." I tell Marcurio, feeling strange to leave him like this.
We hadn't actually done or discussed much about our new relationship status. I was comfortable, and so was he, just to sit a bit closer, lean on the other a little more in the evenings around a campfire, trying to stave off the cold.
It still felt like I was walking on air all day, and we made good time.
The Imperial grins, broadly and happily and a rather besotted smile briefly crosses my own face before I force myself to focus on the tasks ahead.
"Right." I cough unconvincingly. "So you will oversee the transport of the gold in Hjerim towards Solitude. You'll need the house key for that."
It took me a while to distinguish the small metal piece from all the other keys I'd stowed away from places we'd been, but I'd made sure to pick it out yesterday evening before sleep.
I chuck the shiny piece of metal towards the mage in a loose arc. "Don't lose that thing. It's the only copy." I tell him mock-seriously, knowing I can trust him with this. With the key to the most valuable artefacts and the majority of my wealth.
It's a freeing sensation.
"What are you going to do afterwards?" I ask him curiously. The transport can't take more than a week and a half or so to arrange, after all. And even with the cargo, the route to Solitude shouldn't take as much time for him to get through as it will take for me to climb the highest mountain on the continent and also get back down.
He smiles smartly, waving his hand vaguely in the direction of Winterhold and Dawnstar.
"I'll go see Onmund. I might brush up on my spells while I'm at the College. Make sure that you drop by there if you want to find me. It'll be in two or three weeks." He eyes my freshly sharpened axes knowingly. "I'm sure you can keep yourself busy until then." I let out a short bark of laughter.
"Indeed. Well, I guess I'll see you in three weeks, then."
A few seconds pass in stilted silence before the mage raises an eyebrow and grins. "What? No kiss goodbye?" I splutter, before an idea pops into my head.
Well, why not? I think mischievously, a playful smirk growing on my lips.
"Okay."
I take a few brusque steps towards the Imperial, grab his shoulders, pull him down and give him a quick peck…
…on the cheek, of course. He'll have to take initiative himself if he expects more.
His gobsmacked expression is completely worth it. I laugh as I dance out of his reach when he tries to catch me, waving merrily as I start my way up north to the shrine of Talos.
"See you in three weeks!"
"You'd better be there, you brat!" He calls after me, humour in his voice.
I smile to myself, the tips of my ears seemingly permanently stained red from embarrassment.
…I'm such a sap. That was ridiculous.
…I loved it though.
A/N: For all of you who do not agree with this relationship: Get a grip. Flames or comments of homophobic nature will not be accepted and summarily deleted.
Also, I've been studying Dadaism at school and it's? Fascinating? Also the first thing that popped up in my head was "wow this is so Sheogorath" and maybe I have too big an obsession with this goddamn game.
Thank you all so much for your patience~! I've taken down the announcement, but here's the chapter of my mini-series that I put there, in case you missed it or you're new:
Dwemer Constructs in Skyrim, Vol III.
By: Fjaldi dû Bthardamz, dûn-ek Nchuand-Zel.
Introduction:
This volume has been written as a gift, of sorts, to my good friend and former travelling companion Onmund, now beloved Arch-mage of Winterhold College, and his spouse, without whom this work would not have been written, as I felt the need to join them on a seeming fool's endeavour after being mistaken for a mercenary… Ah, but that is a story for a different time.
I have given warnings before, and I pray you shall heed this one as well: Dwemer ruins are not suitable places to explore for aspiring adventurers, as they are wrought with traps and dangers, amongst which the foul Falmer. I have no wish to inspire the inexperienced to chase their deaths.
Whereas my previous works discussed the Three Great Cities which first pierced their way through the earth to find the marvel of Fal Zhardum Din, as well as this geological anomaly in itself (see volume I and II), this third volume shall discuss the last two cities and final location that were part of the Aetherium Alliance, which formed quite the active and thriving communities even before and after the fall of the aforementioned alliance. The two cities discussed here are Arkngthamz and Mzulft, and the final location related to the Aetherium Alliance is Bthar-Zel, explained below.
Arkngthamz, "Arkngthamz":
Arkngthamz is most lauded for its producing of the finest Tonal Architects the Dwemer race had to offer. It is said that even Kagrenac himself, infamous for his work on the Heart of Lorkhan and attempted creating of godhood, studied in these ancient halls, of which very few has been left intact over the years. The music and subtlety of Tonal Architecture would take me weeks to explain, and yet, never would the explanation from the mouth of one that has not been trained as Tonal Architect do the art form justice. Visiting Arkngthamz, however, may give you an impression of what it involved.
Located deep within the Jerall Mountains, it is no surprise that few have set foot there since it was abandoned. However, within the bowels of this construct of pipes, traps, and architectural ingenuity, I found a spirit willing to tell me of her secret foray into my people's lore: that of the Aetherium Forge (see: the Aetherium Wars, written by Katria and later stolen by Taron Dreth).
The city of Arkngthamz was as good a place to start as any, as it was the main command centre of the entire Aetherium Alliance, including all its logistics and research. For example, any new project involving Aetherium had to first be approved by the Research Council situated in the city, for which five tunes had to be played on special instruments lost to time – I have been told they were similar to flutes in appearance, and capable of activating Tonal structures.
Manual activation of these structures can be done using bow and arrows, and as such, I bid you to bring both should you ever wish to unlock the doors within the city.
Mzulft, "Mzulft":
Mzulft had to have been one of my cousin's favourite cities, had he been given the opportunity to visit, for Mzulft was (and is) the Dwemer capital of traps, tricks, and unorthodox defences. These days, many of the traps are still active, and I would not recommend going through the ruins without caution marking your every step, as fire and death will surely greet those unaware!
Located in the far Eastern part of Skyrim, in the mountains close to the border into Morrowind, Mzulft was in a prime location for defending the Western Dwemer Clans from the Chimer, now evolved into Dunmer, whom my kin had many quarrels with. Of course, if you are familiar at all with Dwemer or Dunmer history, I am speaking of nothing new in this instance.
Mzulft, as part of the Aetherium Alliance, was also used as storage centre for Aetherium, which was from there transported to the Eastern Clans in a most lucrative business. Currently, however, no more Aetherium is present at the site, and I suspect the greedy have long since made off with whatever was left upon my people's disappearance.
Other than the Aetherium Alliance, Mzulft was also part of the Eastern Alliance, meant to protect the Western Dwemer Clans against the wars with the Chimer and our Eastern Kin in Morrowind. Of this Alliance, Avanchnzel and Rkund are the two most prominent other member cities.
A location of special interest in Mzulft is the Oculory projection map in the main chamber, showing a detailed magical map of Tamriel based off the stars. However, certain powerful magical artefacts can disturb and blur the map, and so I would not recommend taking them into the halls with you should you wish to read a map more ancient (and accurate) than most drawn variants.
Deep Folk Crossing, "Bthar-Zel"
Bthar-Zel, or Deep Folk Crossing as it is more commonly known, was a lesser member of the Aetherium Alliance. It did not hold any particular position of prestige or importance: similarly to Mzulft, it was used to keep and transport Aetherium to the wizards in the West and to Cyrodill. It was also the only known location to Outsiders, or Non-Dwemer, that could be freely accessed for the sake of purchasing Aetherium. Unfortunately, the entire underground area has become inaccessible due to collapse and the river running underneath the bridge – the only remaining sign it existed at all. This is possible due to most of the buildings located there were built by other races, and as such made primarily out of wood that would not have withstood time.
It is my, perhaps rather implausible, hope that one day someone might yet uncover the secrets and treasures that Bthar-Zel has been hiding for millennia. Until then, Deep Folk Crossing shall remain but a charming landmark of times long gone, and people long lost.