Guide:
Dwemeris
Thoughts
"Speech"
"Dovahzul"
Warnings/Disclaimer: see chapter 4
Chapter Warning(s): Dialogue heavy, character death.
A/N: "Uzfakuh" = my greatest joy, from Tolkien dwarfish.
Not entirely happy with this chapter but oh well.
Last time…
He activates the Calling, forcing himself into my mind, my head, and memories start to play by faster than I can process them, my head explodes into pain, so much that I can't even see straight anymore… missing me so dearly… Blissful nothingness.
Chapter 63 - Closure
I wake up in a – unfortunately – familiar situation. Chained up in the center of the room, to the pillar. My head aches, a dull throb that makes me want to cry in agony with every beat of my heart, and I'm slumped over, limply dangling with my knees right above the ground and my arms strung up above me. My mouth tastes like old vomit, and bile rises at the mere sensation of acid chunks of half-digested food behind my teeth. I'm not wearing my armor – I'm not even wearing a shirt or shoes, only a pair of Dwemer pants hanging loosely off my hips.
"Ah. You are awake. Good. Good. I have answers. I will give you yours."
A hand holds my head up and I flinch away violently as I meet those blue eyes again, memories and phantom pains assaulting me instantly. But the eyes in front of me are duller than before, and the mirror behind him is showing an image of Fal Zhardum Din.
I am unable to resist as the Dwemer – Kvaldi, my Da, who held me in his lap and gave me grandfather's amulet, who forced me in chains and into my mind, who soothed away my pains and left my mother and me behind – holds a bowl filled with some unknown liquid to my throat. I swallow it down without protest, the fight having drained out of me in my weakness.
"Why did you do this?" I manage to croak out as the liquid, some sort of Healing potion, I notice, sets to work on my parched throat. My entire body shakes, muscles spasming and protesting as I struggle back to my feet.
I must have screamed when he forced his way through my mental defenses. Probably vomited, too. New tears are forming in my eyes, the dried salt still stuck to my lashes from earlier.
"You were covered in vomit and it was filthy. Ah. But you do not refer to that, do you? It could not be avoided. The mirror shows not All. But All was what I needed. You left. You betrayed. You abandoned and left our people to their doom. But… You did not know. I Saw your mind and all your deepest secrets, disgusting as some may have been. But… You did not know." He marvels, and it makes me snarl in disgust.
"I believe… you owe me… an apology." I bite out then, gasping between breaths that I can't quite catch, nearly growling in my restraints as I slowly regain my strength. Even though the headache has not abated in the slightest and leaves me cross-eyed whenever I as much as tilt my head.
"I do? Ah. I do, do I not?"
I know that what he did could never be forgiven and would take me months to recover from, if at all. Father or not. Misguided or not. And not even an apology seemed to be forthcoming. I let out a sharp breath and force myself to focus through the pain.
"Why did you… think me a traitor?"
"You vanished. Vanished into time, not a day before we all Vanished from being. I Saw it in the mirror, Saw that even now our unbecoming is approaching. We will be unmade, nothing left behind except the things we have built… and you. You travelled, travelled like none before you have managed, for reasons I now Know, by the power of gods in which I do not believe."
A pause.
"I needed to know. Needed to Know if our unmaking could be prevented. So I took the Scroll from where it was and always has been, to where it never was yet where it is. You are… Unique. Even as you moved around in the Present you know, both Future and Past shifted. Most need only worry for the former."
I frown, eyes tight with lingering aches and worry.
"You… You took the Scroll here… Knowing I was going to look for it… And lured me here…"
"Aye."
"But why?" I cry, helplessly confused and feeling not a little betrayed. To have my own father, or one who claims to be my family, hurt me like this, force me into this – into the past, to so much stress and too far beyond my limits. "Why did you do this to me, Da? I thought you loved me! Loved Ma! That you'd never hurt us!" I throw the accusation at his face, remembering all too clearly what he'd said before leaving my mother and I for good.
For the first time, the scholar hesitates, and his eyes, to my shock, flicker from blank blue light to clear golden, pupils and all, before flickering back to blue. But I know what I saw. I've seen it written all over my own face, in my own eyes whenever I saw myself reflected.
Regret.
Then the scholar – because those blue eyes are unnatural, clearly, there has to be more at stake. There must be something, or I might just go insane.
"Am I not your son? Did you not promise me, did you not swear that everything you did was for mom and me? That you loved us?"
Blue eyes fill with tears. "I DID LOVE YOU! I NEVER STOPPED MISSING YOU! I COULDN'T BEAR THE THOUGHT OF KNOWING YOU HAD DIED ALONG WITH ALL OUR PEOPLE!"
His eyes flicker more, his face torn between cold rage and wretched despair.
"What controls your mind, father?" What entity forced itself into my head? Please tell me it wasn't you, tell me you're being controlled, tell me you didn't hurt me, that you didn't mean it. Tell me you regret, tell me that you don't hate me now.
I would rather my head split open entirely, that the headache increases tenfold, than dealing with the uncertainty and the emotional pain. Dwemer don't deal well with negative emotions, fierce as they may be.
He snarls, more beads falling to the floor from where my axe had dug into his beard, before doubling over and clutching at his head.
My exhausted, blurry eyes turn to the spinning contraptions on the table, then the mirror towering over us, bolted into the stone and glaring down at us. My father is muttering to himself again, but I can't quite make out any words.
Ah. Now I see. The runes on the mirror match the runes on the Eye of Magnus. Because that ended so well. Fucking joy.
I need to get out of here.
I struggle against my chains, the world drifting in and out of focus. My father is raving like a madman, screaming angrily in garbled words and crying in pain as he stumbles along the platform, his eyes screwed shit tightly. When he falls over the side of the table, rolling and sending endless papers and quills and ink scattering in all directions, the chains around me fall away.
The button to activate the mechanism was on the table then?
My father falls onto the ground in a heap and lies still. The whole situation comes straight out of my nightmares, confusing and disorienting and I'm not sure what to do with myself now that I'm freed.
I can see the lever from here – I can activate the bridge, open the doors and leave this place, taking the Elder Scroll with me and leaving my father to his demons, to his mirror and the madness that has taken hold of him… leave him to rot.
But I love my father. I want him to be happy, I want him to acknowledge me, I've sought his approval ever since I was a kid, and seeing him fallen so far from who he was – strong, unfaltering, honest and kind and, in my child self's mind, unbeatable. To see him lie broken breaks my own heart.
"Father… Da..? Da? Are… Are you there?" I ask the prone figure, not much more than a heap of hair and heavy robes under which his skeletal frame is breathing shallowly. He remains still as I approach, retrieving my axes and kneeling next to his side, one axe drawn as I cautiously place my free hand on his shoulder to turn him towards me.
I still can't believe I'm touching my father. After all this time, after all these years of mourning and moving on… Am I wrong, am I wretched for wishing he had stayed dead?
The figure howls when I try to move him, lashing out with clawed fingers, digging nails into the bare skin of my arms and dragging them down, leaving bloody trails behind that have me yelp and bring my axe down on reflex.
Blue light stutters and shivers before fading completely, and I find my own eyes staring back up at me as blood bubbles from between my father's lips.
Horrified, I turn wide eyes to the stump of his arm and the blade digging deep into his chest.
"Fjaldi…"
To hear my name spill from his lips has me in tears again almost immediately. The corners of my mouth jerk into a grimace as I fight them. "Da..!" I choke out, because I know no healing magic, I have no potions with me, and I've killed enough people to see when someone is at deaths' doors.
"My son… My beloved child… Look at me, Uzfakuh… " He breathes.
"Please, Da, no. You're only hurting yourself -"
A cold hand covers my smaller one, the simple gesture silencing me. Smaller, even now, and there's a stab in my chest at seeing it. I bite my lip until it bleeds, but don't look away from his face anymore, even as my vision blurs and breathing becomes harder.
My father smiles up at me, before his expression twists into one of pain and regret. "I am so, so sorry… I… There are no excuses for the pain I have inflicted on you. I was… Selfish. I wanted to… see you. Keep seeing you. It took me a long time… Far too long a time, to realize that the Dwemer who had escaped our extinction, the one who I learned to… to hate with all of my being, was you. My son. My own son… Drak'nakaraat Threinmûr."
He smiles again and chuckles hoarsely, but proud, oh so proud, but I cannot bring myself to smile back. "I watched you, even as the mirror corrupted me, I could not stop watching you… the Mer you became. Your mistakes, your triumphs, the friendships and family you forged… I have never been so proud."
Kvaldi coughs harshly, more blood dripping onto his beard as his hand clenches around mine, his eyes hardening with sheer stubborn Dwemer determination.
"I wrote… In my better moments… a note. Take the Scroll, Uzfakuh, and bring it to Raldbthar… N'Dak will aid you, show him the note… Go home to your beloved… Fulfill your destiny."
The tears are falling freely now as I clutch his hand to my chest, barely daring to breathe in fear that I will miss any of his words.
"I regret… Having to leave you. Saarimda… I will see you soon…" His eyes are not focusing anymore, staring somewhere over my shoulder as he bleeds out on the stone floor, surrounded by his research and the cursed mirror looming over him even in his final moments.
I nod quickly, my voice trembling as I manage to speak. "Da, I… Please…"
Do you approve? I do not know if it's what I'm begging for, what I'm asking him, but my father merely smiles fondly.
"Find happiness. And remember that… I…" his voice is fading, his eyelids closing, and I cannot help but desperately shake him, feeling like a small child again.
"That you what? Da? Da!"
"Love… Always." It's muttered barely above a whisper, and I see tears in his eyes as well as the close, a lone droplet running down the side of his face as he falls entirely still.
I let out a breath that turns into a sob when I choke on it, and I bury my face into his chest, not caring for the bloods sluggishly dripping from his body or the disarray of his beard, not minding the beads pressing into my skin or the wet cloth that I clutch at as I grieve all over again.
He should have stayed dead. Should never have made me come here. Should never have made me kill him. Should have COME BACK HOME…
But I have no use for should-haves or might-have-beens.
The double doors slam open and I hear distant shouting, but my ears ring and I refuse to move away even as I hear the hissing and clanking of the bridge as it reassembles itself.
"What in Sithis' name is going on here?" Someone yells, before drawing in a sharp breath. "Head Researcher Kvaldi is..? Murder!"
A muscle in my face twitches and I tense when more people come running, followed by cries and angry demands for explanations. Even so, none of them come within range of the axe that I'd reflexively clutched with a white-knuckled grip at the approach of the first stranger. The cacophony of noise bounces off the walls, deafeningly loud and my headache hates them all with the force of a thousand suns for it.
"WILL YOU FUCKING SHUT UP?!" I finally yell out at the top of my lungs, swiveling to face the sniveling bastards that are far too loud and far too cowardly with murder in my eyes.
As one, they flinch back, and I realize that I must make quite a sight – shirtless, shoeless, covered in blood not my own, a feral snarl on my face and a weapon in my hand.
I slump before forcing myself to stand on wobbly knees. "He said N'dak would be able to help me. He left a note." I keep it short and sweet, trying not to show how dearly I'd just lay down onto the inviting stone floor and sleep for a few days. I don't have that kind of time if I still have to find my way to Raldbthar and the tower of Mzark.
The researcher who first spoke to me when I, ah, 'entered' Kagrenzel steps forwards and towards the table, rummaging around for a bit as I sink down into the chair – my father's chair. I killed my father. Oh my gods. How is this my fucking life? I want this mess to end already…
Sharp obsidian eyes turn to me. An unusual color, but a close match to Er'thk and his onyx eyes. Perhaps they are related. Gold is far more common a shade in the Dwemer race. Gold, green and blue, with the occasional purple.
"Kvaldi indeed left a message. It appears he anticipated your coming and what it would mean… Fjaldi, son of Kvaldi, son of Saarimda. Aye. I believe I can help you." The Dwemer, whom I assume to be N'dak, gestures absently to the gathered scholars, apprentices, and occasional Falmer in chains.
"Consider this handled. Prepare the funeral arrangements for our Head, and send missives to Raldbthar and Mzinchaleft. Tell the former that I will be visiting them and returning an artifact. Tell the latter that we have need of Rothko's brat."
As the scholars hurry to disperse and cross the bridge again before it disappears, not wanting to linger after the dark glare that N'dak shoots them when they don't move immediately, the scholar turns to me. There's sympathy there, in the curl of his mouth and the lines of his eyes. He wordlessly hands me the note and returns his attentions to the table.
When I am only capable of blankly staring at him, my eyes moving between the living Dwemer and my father's corpse, the Mer lets out a soft sigh, shoulders slumping a bit.
"Read it. I will arrange for clothes, a meal and a place for you to stay the night. We set out in the morning."
So I am supposed to join this complete stranger on a trip across the land that I don't know anything about, thousands of years before I first travelled them?
With pursed lips and a muddled mind, I turn my attentions to the note my father left behind.
"N'dak,
Son of Er'dak
Son of Nerada
I have looked into the mirror and found it looking back at me. My visions have increased in frequency and I fear I may be losing my mind. I will keep the Elder Scroll here for my son when he comes – and he will, of this I have no doubt, for I have foreseen that too.
When he is here, he will kill me. Do not grow angry, old friend, for he had neither the intention nor the will to do so. It is necessary to save this world, even if we cannot be saved.
My son, my Uzfakuh… he is Drak'nakaraat Threinmûr, do you know? He has saved many people, and done great things. He made some mistakes, aye, but do we not all do the same? I have never been more proud to be a father. To be his father, and every day my heart grows wearier with what I have stolen from him.
Let him bear the Elder Scroll, N'dak, and take him with you to Fal Zhardum Din. The Scroll will not feel the hands of old Mzark again, for my son has greater need of it that he and his brutish band of scholars do. His questions or requests may appear strange, but I ask, for the good of this plane, that you answer inquiries he makes.
Take care of my Uzfakuh, old friend, as my final request.
May Arnknurlaf guide your steps,
Kvaldi.
Son of Kvidvr
Son of Aldva
If I am not given the chance to tell him the truth, will you do so in my stead? There are none I would entrust this to, other than yourself. Tell him how I love him so, and how he is forgiven. That I will always be proud to call him my son."