Fanfiction deadass just didn't count views over the new year period I am LIVID those were gonna be some of my BIGGEST NUMBERS-
Cold (II)
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'Alexander Meteuse will likely return to the College today. Have your healer-wizard ready'.
It was not a very reassuring letter for Mirabelle Ervine to receive, dropped in by a bird in the middle of morning lectures.
She didn't call off all the schooling, but she did drag Colette out of her work, and notify Xander's…'friends'. The jester Cicero (who, as a member of the Not Dark Brotherhood, was not a criminal by official Winterhold law), insisted upon accompanying her, and so the three of them waited at the parapets above the main gate for their headmaster's return. When they saw an odd-looking party of people approaching through the snow, they rushed as fast as they could down to the bridge.
They met the group at the gate, none of whom looked to be in a good way. The party was led by a Dunmer woman Mirabelle didn't know, with bags under her eyes. Immediately behind her, L'laarzen and a Breton woman were supporting Alexander, himself staring listlessly into space and barely putting one foot in front of the other. Behind them, an Orc Mirabelle dimly recognised and a Nord she definitely didn't made up the back of the group, both of them also visibly exhausted.
"By the Divines—" Mirabelle breathed, rushing forwards. "Xander, are you alright? What—"
He muttered something, not even looking at her, and she had to jolt to the side to avoid getting trampled.
"Excuse me?"
"Goin' t'bed." Xander grunted.
"You're—It's mid-afternoon!"
"I'm going to bed." He repeated, finally looking at her. "And at this point, if the world ends before I get up, I'm just going to let it happen."
The world, mercifully, did not end before Xander got up. Or perhaps that was not a mercy, because it meant he actually had to deal with the world, and he wasn't sure he had the energy for that. Especially since…
Are you alright?
Azura's voice rang in his head, her concern as palpable as her eagerness. If you wish, I can wipe your exhaustion away. Simply—
You're not taking over my body unless I've thought good and hard about it. He thought at her as he groggily sat up, too exhausted to use his voice unless he had to.
I don't understand. Why do you delay when the solution is so apparent? Azura asked.
Why don't you just take over if you're so certain it's a good idea? He countered. Not like I could stop you.
The same reason I do not trap black souls in my Star. I desire willing supplication. I will not force this on you. All the same—
Then do me a favour and keep out of my thoughts unless I ask for you, alright?
There was no response. Xander grunted, and forced himself out of bed.
Due to his spontaneous non-diurnal collapse, it was either late night or early morning when he awoke. He snagged some food, didn't particularly care what it was, and made his way down to the Arcanaeum. There he sat, and started thinking and eating, and people moved around him and said things and he said the bare minimum things back.
And then, about an hour later, he realised that there were a lot of people sat around and he'd apparently started a group meeting.
Wonderful.
So the people from Morthal explained to the people from the College and the people from the Dark Brotherhood exactly what had happened in the swamp, so eventually Xander had to explain what had happened on his end. So he told them. He recounted the conversation dully, paraphrasing where necessary, and then Aranea took over to explain her part in the story.
And then there was silence.
Xander dimly realised, after almost a minute, that people were staring at him.
He leaned back in his chair, looked around the table.
"…What?" He asked.
"So?" Mirabelle prompted. "What do we do?"
"Pffffffth…" Xander blew out a breath, stared at the ceiling. "Uh. Die, I guess?"
"Not funny, genius." Dulurza grunted.
"I know, but I'm not exactly sure what you expect from me." Xander sighed, leaning forwards again and propping himself up on his arms. "I mean, I technically run this college but I'm not exactly leader material. Get Hjar to do it, she runs a Hold."
"I can't come up with a plan unless I know what's happening." Hjar countered. Her hand was linked with Margret's on the table, and Xander dimly realised it had been there ever since the pair had arrived. "I need details. Julius, is he working with the permission of the Empire, the Aldmeri?"
"The Thalmor work for him, they just don't know it." Xander shrugged. "Tullius probably has no idea, but Julius may be going over his head. The Empire would pay a lot for a controlled Dragon Soul."
"He doesn't have a Dragon Soul." Babette pointed out, sitting at a chair atop a large pile of cushions. "You said it flew off, correct?"
"But there are two Eyes, and they have both." L'laarzen answered, grimly. "Xander, you said they also know the spell?"
"They do." Xander said, putting a hand to his forehead. "And of course Julius will know of unopened Dragon burial grounds or Dragons slain by normal people, because Julius knows everything."
"So you mean—"
"Yep. They're probably already filled."
Lake Yorgrim. Southeast of the Nightgate Inn, near to the unofficial border between the Pale and Eastmarch. It was also (according to a zero'th-hand account) very close to one recent Dragon burial site.
Julius' boots crunched through fresh snow as he made his way out onto the lake, briefly testing the strength of the ice before stepping across it.
It's impressive that it's managed to freeze back over in the weeks since I last tore it apart. Cold country.
He extended a hand downwards, stretching out with his magic. Ironically, he was actually looking for the spot that was the hardest for his power to latch onto. Grasping the ice, the water, or the silt underneath it were no trouble for him, but…
There.
He heaved.
There was a few seconds of silence, then a crack, as the ice burst open again. The carcass of a Dragon (due to the colder temperatures, not quite as hideously decayed as Vulbahlok) smashed up out of the water. Julius puppeted it over to the shore and dropped it there, then dragged it a few metres further as it started to sink into the mud. Once he was satisfied it was stable, he unslung the backpack from his shoulders and set it down.
There was something that looked like a perfectly innocuous wooden chest inside. Emphasis on 'looked'. It took almost a minute to undo all the traps (magical and conventional) he'd placed on it, just in case. But eventually, he opened it up and took out its contents. The Right Eye of the Falmer gleamed in the late afternoon sun.
He checked his surroundings. Nobody nearby. He hadn't told anyone where he was going when he'd killed the thing, nor had he told anyone about this trip now. But he didn't have time to waste—a lot needed to be done and it needed to be done soon.
He set up the scenario the same way it had been done in Morthal: Eye in a vice, facing the Dragon, him behind it. Taking only a few seconds to ready himself, he cast the spell.
It burned. That he noticed immediately. His magicka reserves stung at the invading energy, and he had to slap his hands onto the Eye within moments to stop himself crying out in pain. That prevented most of the agony. He just had to buff his hands against the heat as the soul of the Dragon flowed into the gem.
Alex held this within him and didn't even seem to feel it. Need to figure out how he does what he does, see if its learnable…but then, none of that will matter in a few weeks, will it?
The Dragon burned. The lightshow stopped. The process was completed.
Julius laid a hand on the surface of the gem, frowning. Alex had said he'd looked into the Dragon's mind when connecting to its soul, but nothing like that had happened for the rest of them. Even now, stretching out with his magic, he could feel no trace of the thoughts trapped within the crystal. But the power…
Julius reached up with one hand, the other still touching the Eye. He focused, directing the energy through one arm and into the other—
Fire bloomed. Ordinary, at first, the simple blast of a flame spell. Then he bid it grow, and grow, and grow, channelling more and more power from the gem.
Within half a minute, the cone was a hundred metres long and thirty wide at its apex, flames roaring up into the sky and twirling off in blistering spirals.
He cut it off then because the pain spiked, making him reflexively pull his hand away from the Eye with a hiss and shake out both his arms.
But there was more power, alright. He could have done it for hours and not tired.
"…Okay." He said to himself. Julius never spoke aloud to himself, but felt that the situation warranted it. "So, this is probably going to work."
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"Any idea what he plans to do with it?" Hjar pressed.
Xander scowled. "How in Oblivion would I know? Destroy the world I assume, as he stated, but I've got no idea how or when."
"Might he come for us?" Mirabelle asked. "If we know what he's doing, he may try preemptively to stop us."
"That's…a pretty good bet, yeah." Xander answered.
"Okay, so we need to prepare." Hjar drummed her fingers. "Do you know what resources he has at his disposal? What influence, who works for him, if his sisters will fight with him?"
Xander shrugged.
Hjar glared. "For Hircine's sake man, take this seriously."
"Take what seriously?" His patience was rapidly fading.
"Your brother is possibly going to kill us. We need to fight him—"
"Fight him?" Xander scoffed. "There's no fighting Julius. Not effectively, anyway."
"We are aware he is strong." L'laarzen tried, gently. "But we—"
"No, you aren't aware!" Xander shouted, standing and knocking his chair back. His knuckles were white, fingers hurting.
"Then explain." Hjar demanded, flatly.
"Explain? Alright, fine." Xander shoved himself away from the table and started pacing. "Julius is a genius. And I know we've been tossing that word around a lot lately, but he is an actual, gods-damned, once-in-generations universal genius. He is good at everything, everything he tries! He picked up swordfighting just to show support for me, and then he became one of the best swordsmen in the Empire! He'd probably be able to beat anyone except L'laarzen, Dulurza and Nazir with just that. And—" He barked out a laugh, "And he's a strong mage. And you think you know what that means but you really don't, maybe the College masters present know what that means but the rest of you really don't. He's an Alteration master, and he's better than Tolfdir, and yes I mean that." He glared at the ageing wizard as if to silence a protest, though there didn't seem to be one coming. "Do you know what 'Alteration master' means? It means the world is a puzzle to him and he's solved it. He can make himself stronger, faster, lighter, heavier, he can make himself practically immune to fire or ice, Dulurza you could take your axe to his face and he could stick himself to the floor with his feet and just take it. Everything around him is a weapon to him; the air, the ground, your weapons, you. He's the only person I know who can reliably use telekinesis on a living mage without their consent. That's assuming of course that he bothers, because he can throw out paralysis spells as fast as L'laarzen can swing her claws, and if they hit you you're immobile for more than long enough for him to do anything he wants to you."
Xander came back to the table, clasping onto the back of his chair and looking between them, one by one. "He won the Synod's duelling championships every year he was there, to the point where they added a special event called 'everyone gang up on the Meteuse' and he still won, even with Octavia leading them. One time he went up against the ten greatest magic duellists in Cyrodiil at once and he Still Won, and that was over five years ago! I tried to fight him a month back and it was a joke! If he wanted to, he could probably kill everyone in this room at once, do you understand that? I CAN'T FIGHT HIM!"
He took a shuddering breath. "I can't lie to him, I can't fight him, and now I can't trust him. So if he comes for us, I have to give in: Either to him, or to a God so that they can fight him for me."
Nobody said anything. Xander sighed, letting go of the chair and stepping backwards. "Forget this. I'll be in my quarters."
He stalked out of the room.
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The rest of the table sat there, awkwardly, after the Archmage had left.
"…Drama queen." Dulurza grunted.
"Dulurza!" L'laarzen protested.
"I'm his best friend! I'm allowed to say it." The Orc rolled her eyes, leaning back in her chair. "I get he's hurting. Never seen him like this though."
"He's been betrayed." Hjar said, staring down at the table. "That's never happened to him before, not by people he gives a damn about."
"I'll go talk to him." Mirabelle stood, following Xander's trail.
"Of course, this all still leaves the question of 'what are we doing?'" Margret pointed out. "Even if he's too out of it to help, we're not giving up, right?"
"Obviously. Think he was right about what his brother can do?" Dulurza asked.
Hjar nodded. "Plan catastrophically. We should assume so. That means no direct confrontation unless we have something really scary to throw at him…" She drummed her fingers on the table. "First of all, I think we have a lot of letters to send."
"Agreed." Said L'laarzen. "The Thieves Guild needs to know. Their contacts may give us advance warning of what he is planning."
"And we pray to whoever's relevant that it will take him at least a couple days to do it, or we're already doomed." Dulurza stood. "I'll let Elisif know."
"And I'll warn Thongvor, not that I expect the Reach to get involved in this." Hjar got up too, glancing at the other mages and assassins around the table. "As for the rest of you…well. If the College has defences, you might want to check that they're working."
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With everything I had seen over the past few months, I'd doubted anything I saw could surprise me anymore. All the same, I felt something when I saw that Sovngarde was so…dark.
My ride on the back of Odahviing was glorious. The midday sun shining down through a cloudless sky, letting me see the crags, valleys, and plains of Skyrim in a way I was never able to before. The Dragon had been right, I suspect, that I would be left jealous of my true-breed cousins' flight. By contrast, the warrior-heaven of the Nords felt like a poorly-recalled dream.
The brilliant constellations up above me were muted, the surrounding mountains, statues, and distant buildings seemed hazy and blurred. The steps that led down from my arrival platform took me into a dark, thick fog, through which I could scarcely see my own two feet.
"Lok, Vah Koor!" I Shouted, briefly clearing an area of the mist and revealing a pathway swerving through the grasslands…and a man, crouched beside a large rock.
"Who are—Oh, by the Divines, you can get rid of it!" The man stood, rushing over to me. He wore what looked like fine clothes, now muddied, and had a bright red beard. "I've been hiding in this damn mist for I don't know how long!"
"Did you come through the portal?" I asked.
"Portal?" The man snorted. "I died, lad. Same as all the other poor fools I've seen wandering around, though most of those have been snapped up by now. Why, how did you—"
"Ven Mul Riik!"
The voice was raspy, deep and terrifying, echoing over the valley. I whirled around, drawing my weapons and looking in all directions as rapidly as I could.
The World Eater did not appear. But the mist swept back over us, ending any progress we may have made.
"That was him!" The man hissed, crouching down and looking to the skies in fear. "Alduin! The World Eater! Quick, you, you didn't die? Can you go back?"
Explaining that properly would have taken too long. So,
"I'm the Dragonborn." I said.
The man's eyes lit up. "The Dragonborn? Hah! There was a time when I would have never believed you! Does that mean you can end this fog?"
I can't match Alduin Shout-for-Shout. And even if I could, I wouldn't do it fighting him over the weather.
"I'm here to kill Alduin. But I don't even know how I'll find him in this." I looked around again, but it was hopeless. If Alduin didn't want to be found, he wouldn't be.
"You'll need allies." The red-haired man judged.
"Allies slow me down."
"Hah! This is Sovngarde, lad!" The man laughed. "This place is full of the greatest heroes of Mankind!"
"Assuming they haven't been eaten."
"Not likely. Alduin only preys on new deaths. He doesn't have the power to storm the Hall of Valor, at least not yet."
"Which is where?"
"I…don't know." The man coughed. "This mist is tricky. Turns you around. Nobody can find their way to the hall. But if you could get there, you'd have an army of Nordic legends! Ysgramor, Jurgen Windcaller, Olaf One-Eye, Tsun, perhaps even Shor himself!"
"Telling, that none of these great heroes have fought Alduin already." I glanced back at the man. "And who are you? To be here, you must have died with honour."
"Hm? Oh, no-one of note." He coughed. "They call me Falk Firebeard. I was killed defending my Jarl, in a manner of speaking. What about you? What's your name?"
Something caught my notice. I didn't respond to the question, staring into the distance and cocking my head.
"D—Dragonborn? If you don't want to say, that's—"
"Nahlot. Be silent." I said. "Can you hear that?"
There were a few seconds of quiet, as we both strained our ears.
"No. Nothing." Falk shook his head. "What about you?"
I frowned. "There's…singing."
And in the distance, almost entirely inaudible, rang out:
"Dovahkiin, Dovahkiin, Naal Ok Ziin Los Vahriin. Wah Dein Vokul Mahfaeraak Ahst Vaal…"
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Xander was laid flat on his back, in the Archmage's Quarters' very large bed. He held his scroll-bracer in his hands, and twirled it between them without much conscious thought. Been meaning to make some upgrades to this. Can't really fit more than three scrolls on it, but if I stop worrying so much about concealment I should be able to set up 'presets' that I can slap on it in the heat of combat. Not like I need to hide much anymore. If the whole college doesn't know my secret after I just blabbed it to the masters, they soon will…
He glanced to his bedside table. Dawnbreaker sat there, sheathed, its hilt still glowing gently.
"You've been awfully quiet recently." He remarked.
"Didn't want to interrupt." Meridia replied. And suddenly she was there, leaning against the table. Flowing white dress under white armour pieces, white hair, white skin, glowing white eyes; the works. Drop-dead gorgeous, obviously, that's what happens when you can choose how people see you, but so bright she was slightly painful to look at. "And I was slightly furious at how I was being ignored…but then you got mad at Azura, which was hilarious, and I didn't want you to be mad at me too."
"Hmph." Xander smiled, looking away. "And you knew about the conduit thing too, I take it?"
"I saw what you were when you first found my beacon. Wasn't entirely sure what Azura was trying to turn you into, but I had my suspicions."
"And you didn't think to mention this to me?"
Meridia shrugged. "I was curious what would happen. I like change. If she wasn't trying to turn you into a zombie, I didn't see much reason to intervene."
"Oh, of course. Curiosity." Xander stared up at his ceiling. "Always wondered what it must be like for you. Being all floaty and godlike and higher-intelligence-y. Suppose curiosities are about all we can be to you, right?"
Meridia's face slowly moved into view, looming over him.
"I'm getting the distinct impression that you're upset with me." She declared.
"I'm upset in general." Xander shrugged. "It's been a long few days."
"Uh-huh." There was a pause, in which Meridia did not stop staring at him. He raised an eyebrow, and she bit her lip, awkwardly.
"So…" She mumbled, "In case it was Azura specifically that was making you hesitate, I'd also like to offer up myself as a solution to all your problems."
Xander glowered. "Right. What did I expect. What was it you wanted me to be when we first met, again?"
"An instrument of my cleansing light." Meridia grinned. "In this case, quite literally."
"What actually happens if I say yes?" He asked. "Azura was fairly light on the details, and then I told her not to talk to me."
"Well…you'd be literally putting your body in our hands, and we'd be channeling our power through you." The Daedra explained. "We'd be in control, free to do as we pleased with you. I…doubt you'd remain conscious for the experience."
"And what's to stop you destroying everything I love?"
"Nothing."
"What stops you keeping control over my body until you get it killed?"
"Also nothing."
There was a beat.
"We're not gonna." Meridia pouted. "We want to stop your brother."
"Not out of sympathy, I take it?"
"If Nirn collapses back into the primordial soup, there'll be nothing keeping Oblivion's influence out of Mundus." Meridia paused. "But there will also be no Oblivion, not really, not without the contrast caused by the existence of a mortal plane. The delicate balance of the Daedric realms will collapse. I can't rule the Coloured Rooms if there are no Coloured Rooms, you feel me?"
"Which is a nice reassurance about the final ends, but I'm more than a little worried about your means." Xander pointed out. "Not to mention what happens afterwards."
Meridia huffed. "Relax, I'd give you your body back. Yes, you only have my word of that, but I'm me. I don't lie. And Azura's not been this fond of a mortal in ages, she doesn't want to make you upset."
"Hmph." Xander shifted. "Anyone else vying for control over my body?"
"Uh, hate to break it to you, but I don't think there's a Daedra alive that wouldn't want what you're offering. Even if you aren't actually offering it." Meridia winced. "You're…not exactly practised enough to keep us out yet. You're lucky it's me and Azura who really have our hooks in you, and we're being nice about it. But I wouldn't go picking up the Mace of Molag Bal any time soon, hint hint."
Xander smiled wryly. "Well, thanks for being so considerate."
"You're very welcome!" Meridia beamed (hehe, beamed. Cos she's like, a light god who's smiling). However, when he just sighed and looked away, the smile vanished and was replaced by a glare.
"Okay, what in OBLIVION DO YOU CALL THIS?" She snapped, moving right up to 'A NEW HAND TOUCHES THE BEACON' volume and making him jolt upright, wincing.
"OW! What do you mean?" He protested.
"THIS! THE MOPING!" Meridia gestured vaguely at him. "Here I am, trying to relate to your pathetic little mortal brain, going 'alright, sure, he needs a minute'! But NO! You're not even fixed when I've been nice to you! What, am I doing it WRONG? HUH? I DARE YOU to tell me I'm doing it wrong!"
"Calm down a little, Shalidor's left testicle…" Xander winced, shielding his eyes from her increasingly intense glow. "It's not that simple, Meridia. We can't just be 'not sad' on command."
"You think I give a damn that you're SAD?" Meridia snorted. "Grief is fine, if it motivates you. So's betrayal, or hatred, or pain. But you're NOT motivated. You're just…lying there."
Her light dimmed back to manageable levels, and she pouted. "I like you a lot better when you're burning, Xander. You know? And that's what I thought this would do, but it's just…put you out."
Xander grimaced, looking down. "I'm not…he's…I don't know what to do." He admitted. "I mean, this is Julius. I don't even know what he's doing, I don't even know if he's wrong."
He felt a hand on his cheek. Looked up, to see Meridia surprisingly close to his face.
"Then go find out." She said, voice gentle but firm. "This isn't like the Emperor, Xander. You don't have a few weeks to sit around and find yourself again. If you need more information, get looking for it."
Xander breathed in deeply. Breathed out. "Thank you."
"Yeah, damn right. Go."
Meridia vanished, and he went.
There was a knock at the door to the Archmage's Quarters.
"Xander? I'm respecting your privacy by knocking but asserting my authority as the one who actually runs this school by coming in anyway." Mirabelle's voice echoed through the wood, before the door opened and she stepped in.
She stopped before she made it three paces.
The only people she could see were two noticeably ethereal women sat at a table playing cards. A sword and a soul gem were leant haphazardly against it.
"Fifteen." Said one.
"This isn't fair when you can see the future…" Groused the other, tossing her cards on the table and huffing.
Mirabelle sighed. "He's gone, hasn't he."
"Yeah, obviously."
"Vanishing at inopportune moments is basically his entire thing, isn't it?"
The assassins of the Dark Brotherhood were skilled at many things. Well, they were extremely skilled at one thing (murder), and moderately skilled at a number of ancillary things (tracking, sneaking, lying, etcetera). But they were also terrible at a lot of other things. Like, say, organisation, or home improvement.
This was how, over a month after the Dawnstar Sanctuary had been secured and the terms of their employment had been hashed out, they still hadn't moved their stuff out of the Hall of Attainment.
Xander trudged up the steps to the hall's second floor, and raised his eyebrow at the cat sitting on the edge of the central fountain.
"Weren't interested in the drama?" He asked. "I didn't see you in the Arcanaeum."
"Mrow." Said the cat.
Xander rolled his eyes. "Oh, don't start with that."
"Why not? We had a nice thing going before you blew Khajiit's cover." Me'Daro snickered, flicking her tail. "But no, Me'Daro is not interested in your family drama."
"I wish I shared your stoicism." Xander chuckled, stroking the back of her neck as he passed.
"It's not—nyaa~, that's good—it's not stoicism. She just doesn't particularly care." She arched her back with his hand, and glanced towards the door. "You meeting with the corpse?"
"Yep."
"Don't let her kill you, this one needs her paycheque."
"Thanks, I'll try."
The room that contained the Night Mother's coffin was dark, because of course it was. Xander unlocked and opened the metal door, impressed by the absence of smell from the hideously rotted corpse.
"Glad Cicero's putting those expensive oils he stole to good use…" Xander muttered. "Hi, by the way."
Listener. Greeted the Night Mother. You have not yet consigned a soul to Sithis from the Emperor contract.
"Always business with you, huh?" Xander deadpanned. "I'm working on it."
Then why are you here? Shall I offer you another?
"I'm here for answers." Xander crossed his arms. "My brother wants to bring the Towers down. What would that do?"
What he told you was correct. The corpse replied, thankfully not wasting any time. The world will revert to a state before the existence of Nirn and Mundus, before the disparity of light and dark.
"And Nirn's people?"
You will become not what you are.
"…Descriptive."
It is not death, just as your brother promises. But it would not be life as you know it either.
So, surprising nobody, she was being cryptic. How out of character for her. Still, it's possible that this is one of those things where I'd go crazy if I understood it.
"And that wouldn't bother you?" Xander asked, before quickly amending to "Or rather, would it not bother Sithis? If none of us die?"
Sithis is not the God of Death.
"Yeah, you've said that. But if no souls go to Sithis, might it not make him mad?"
Would they not? The Night Mother's voice seemed vaguely amused, though it was probably just his imagination. Even with no Nirn, there is still time, and so an end of time. Sithis is patient. It is only those bound by time and space who give thought to when and where. All but Anu-iel goes to Sithis eventually.
"Anu-iel?" Xander blinked. "You mean the Soul Of All Things?"
Anu-iel Is. Sithis Is Not. The two are opposite, and their interplay birthed the world your sibling seeks to alter. For now, you Are, and soon, you Will Not Be. Such is Sithis.
"You keep saying that." Xander narrowed his eyes. "Sithis Is Not. What do you mean?"
It is no trick of words. It is simple truth. Sithis…Isn't, where everything else Is.
"So he's…but that's not even a coherent concept. How can he be something but not be something?"
It is mortal folly to assign Them names, for names Are. There was a pause. You wish to understand Sithis?
"I do." Xander nodded. Only by the time it was out of his mouth he realised that was maybe a bad id—
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"—ander? Xander!"
Xander blinked, and he Was again. He promptly gasped and stumbled away from the coffin, collapsing backwards onto the floor. His body was numb, and his head spun like a summoning portal.
"Whoa! You alright, boss?" It was Me'Daro speaking, he dimly realised. The tiny Khajiit had jumped up onto his chest and was staring at him.
"I…I think so?" He gasped out; throat parched. "What happened?"
"Nothing. You were just standing there." Me'Daro hopped off as he sat up, sitting next to him and staring curiously. "Me'Daro wasn't worried at first, she knows you sometimes talk to her in your head, but after the first hour—"
"I was in for an hour?" Xander exclaimed.
"Try four." Me'Daro countered. "Khajiit assumed you knew what you were doing, but it looked like you were going to stand there forever."
"It…it didn't feel like any time at all." Xander looked back at the coffin, a cold feeling forming in his gut. "Sorry. I'm fine. I'm coming out now, so…"
"Right. Ja-kha'jay and Jode, kitten, you promised not to die on Khajiit…" Me'Daro gave him one last concerned look before strutting out of the room. Xander stood, breathing heavily and meeting the Night Mother's eyes.
What was that? He thought, not trusting his voice. I couldn't think. I didn't even know that I wasn't thinking, I just wasn't…
You Weren't. The Night Mother agreed. Such is Sithis. The complete lack of anything at all.
…Oh, Gods, I sent a man to that. I'm going to send someone else to it—
Do not be too alarmed. All fall to it eventually.
"But that's not what Julius wants, right?" Xander said aloud, hastily. "He doesn't plan to replace the world with…that."
No. The Night Mother's tone was gentler than he'd ever heard it. But you must ask yourself, Listener: How much closer to it do you wish your existence to be?
Mirabelle finally tracked Xander down in the Hall of Attainment. He was sat on the edge of the downstairs fountain, staring blankly into the glowing blue light.
This time, at least, he was polite enough to acknowledge her presence. He glanced up and waved when she came in. "Hellooo."
"How long have you been here?" Mirabelle huffed in relief, striding towards him. "I've been looking for you for hours."
"Sorry, I was staring into the empty uncaring void." Xander said, as though that was any kind of explanation.
"Well forgive me for being worried." Mirabelle rolled her eyes. "I thought you might have fallen out of a window again."
"Pfft. We both know I can survive that. Heck, I can fly back up now."
"Is that a permanent ability?"
"Should be. The knowledge isn't gone, but…well. Not feeling particularly enthused about dramatic declarations of courage right now, so I'm not sure I could pull it off." Xander went back to staring into the fountain.
Mirabelle sat next to him, looking him up and down. He seemed…fine, superficially. His robes were fresh and in good condition, there were no injuries on his skin, no bags under his eyes to indicate tiredness. But there was an exhaustion in his expression and posture. She was worried that if left to his own devices, he would just continue to sit by the fountain until one base need or another compelled him to move.
"You know, people are worried about you." She said.
"They shouldn't be. I'm fine." Xander replied.
"Oh. So we're lying to each other now." Mirabelle raised an eyebrow.
He shot her an annoyed look. "I'm physically fine."
"I know. And if you weren't I wouldn't be worried, because Colette's one of the best healers in the country." She laid a hand on his shoulder. "But it's not physical, so people are worried. Your friends are worried, the students are worried, I'm worried."
He met her eyes again, and sighed. "That's…nice to hear. But this isn't something you can solve with—"
"I beg to differ." Mirabelle interrupted him, sharply. "One of my main jobs as Master Wizard is helping when the people around me are out of sorts; be they students, colleagues, employers. Tell me what's wrong."
"Still looking after me?" He asked, smiling wryly. "You shouldn't have to."
She lightly slapped his shoulder. "I'm not doing this because I have to, you oaf, I'm doing it because I care. Now spill."
"Fine, fine…" Xander exhaled, drumming his fingers on the stone beside him. "Truth is, I…I know what I have to do but I don't know if I have the strength to do it."
"About your brother?" Mirabelle asked, as though there was any doubt.
"Mmn. At first I was holding onto hope that maybe he was right, maybe I was being silly, but…no. I have to stop him. But I can't."
"You're afraid."
"Yes, but not 'upcoming class presentation' afraid. More 'hurtling headfirst off the edge of a cliff' afraid." Xander grimaced. "I've realised I'm about to lose horribly and I can't do anything about it."
"Well, we've already established that you're very good at surviving long falls." Mirabelle pointed out, smiling.
"Hehe, cute addition to the metaphor, but I can't 'fade' away from this." He clenched his fists. "You saw my fight with Julius at Elenwen's party."
"It looked close."
"Because he let it look close. Julius is careful, implacable, he doesn't—I was swinging at him with a sword full-force, and he let that sword come right up to his neck, because we both knew there was no way it would land."
"This isn't necessarily going to come to a one-on-one mage duel." Mirabelle pointed out. "You have people who can help—."
"Of course it's going to come to a one-on-one mage duel, haven't you read books?" Xander snorted.
Mirabelle frowned. "That's not a good gauge to—"
"Fine, whatever, but still. Now I have more people relying on me." Xander flapped his arm. "Dulurza, L'laarzen, Hjar, you, all getting pulled into my mess."
"From what you've told me, this is a Tamriel-wide mess—"
"But it's my brother and—" Xander stopped himself. Sighed. "That's not the problem. Sorry, I'm talking in circles, avoiding the point."
"Then what is the point?" Mirabelle asked, gently.
"That I need to stop Julius, but I can't." Xander said, flatly. "That my friends, that the world needs me to do something, but…It's Julius. My entire life he's just been standing there above me, a shining example of everything I wish I could be, better than me at everything I value in a person. And now the world is helpfully reminding me that the only way for me to stop him is to have someone else do it with my body, because…because doing it as myself is impossible."
The water in the fountain trickled.
Outside, the wind howled.
Mirabelle tilted her head. "So?"
Xander blinked at her. "I'm sorry, 'So'? What do you mean 'So'?"
"I mean so what if it's impossible." She shrugged. "It's never stopped you before."
"That's not—"
"You got into the College of Winterhold despite having zero magical aptitude." Mirabelle listed, holding up a finger, "You learned to Shout without being the Dragonborn or having any formal training, you defeated enemies Savos Aren didn't stand a chance against, killed a Dragon, befriended half a dozen Daedra, turned the Dark Brotherhood into your personal mercenary force—"
"This isn't—" Xander held up a hand—
"—Took over a mage college at twenty one years old, became close personal friends with the actual Dragonborn, got the two sides in one of the bloodiest civil wars in history to agree to peace, trapped a Dragon's soul—" Mirabelle realised she'd ran out of fingers to count on, "And probably all sorts of things I've forgotten about. The impossible is what you do."
"I cheat at the impossible!" Xander corrected.
"Well then there's your answer! Cheat." Mirabelle grabbed his shoulders and leaned in. "Lie, cheat, scheme, do whatever you have to do. Just know that you don't have to do it alone."
She hesitated for a moment, staring into his shocked eyes. Then stepped backwards, letting go. "The other three are in the Arcanaeum. I suspect they could use your input."
"Right." Xander gulped. Took a deep breath, and stood up. "Mirabelle, thank you."
….Screw it— "Treat me to dinner when this is over, and I'll call it even." She said, winking at him.
Xander tilted his head. "Oh. Okay, that's easy, I have loads of money. Now excuse me, world to save—" He brushed past her, and she stared flabbergasted after him as he pushed open the door to the courtyard and walked out.
̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶̶ ̶{o ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶̶ ̶ ̶͜͡| ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ Ϫ 8˂
Hjar, Dulurza, and L'laarzen were where Mirabelle had said they'd be; sat together around a table in the Arcanaeum and talking intensely among themselves. They stopped, however, when Xander walked in.
He took in their expressions, winced, and pulled up a chair, sitting down at the table with them.
"So…" He said. "Sorry about being a massive drama queen earlier."
"You're always a massive drama queen." Hjar shot back, not missing a beat.
"Rude."
"True though." Dulurza shrugged. "You feeling better now? Had a good cry?"
"Nah, I talked to some gods. Don't know about better, but I am feeling determined." Xander sighed. "This is going to suck…Julius is crazy and he needs to go down, yes. But he is my brother. And Divines know what I'm going to do about my other siblings. I mean, how have I managed to screw up this bad?"
"Family sucks." Dulurza agreed. "My sister tried to destroy the city I was living in. And even when I sorted things out with her, my father was still working with the Thalmor. Now he's sodded off, and I have no idea where he's gone…I spent years fighting for his approval. But I never needed it."
"Cheers to that." Hjar agreed. "The Forsworn were my family. And it took me way, way too long to realise that they were all savages. My grandfather was using me to push his agenda, trying to make me think nobody else could ever trust or understand me. He was wrong, and I killed him, but it didn't make me feel any better. Just hurt more people."
"Khajiit is probably a bad example when it comes to stories of family, no?" L'laarzen chuckled. "A killer, who fled her killer husband when she finally realised what being a killer meant. And the only way for her to resolve the situation was by killing him."
"Gods, look at us all." Xander snorted. "Just…four walking disasters. Trying to make our way in the world, and hurting everyone we care about."
A few seconds of silence passed.
"Well. We've done alright by each other, haven't we?" L'laarzen pointed out.
"For the most part, aye." Hjar agreed. "I mean, Oblivion, we killed a Dragon!"
"We did kill a Dragon, it was very cool." Xander agreed.
"Blood-kin." Dulurza said, which drew a set of confused looks. "Uh, Orc term. For outsiders who're considered part of the stronghold. I might not be in a stronghold either right now, but…you're family in all but name, as far as I'm concerned."
"And that is the best thing about friends, no?" L'laarzen offered. "You get to choose them."
There was a pause. Everyone looked at each other.
"So." Xander leaned forwards. "Shall we save the world?"
Hehe, he said it! He said the thing!
Why yes, I have been planning to title-drop this entire time. I can't help myself.
Xander on that character development speedrun. This is possibly the most thoroughly a full chapter has focused on one Disaster over the others, which I'm sorry for. But there's a lot that had to happen here and now, rather than later. Now, next chapter, we can focus on the real business of actually stopping this mess.
Apologies also if things got a little too existential here, but we've been gradually sliding up the gods' attention spans for the whole fic, it was going to happen eventually.
Also screw this website's formatting corrections. It automatically removes multiples spaces in a row, empty lines, multiple line-breaks in the place of one, and basically everything that would be conducive to having a large segment that is almost entirely blank for dramatic purposes, not to mention not letting you right-align your text, strikethrough, or...write website links, for some reason? I mean I get why you ban the money tree site (don't like it, but get it) but you can't even write ' ' without it being destroyed. See? It just got rid of it. It's own name.
If I ran this site, I'd allow it. And I'd pay you all for ad-revenue, too.
Next Time: The Disasters plan how to stop the Thalmor. The Dragonborn searches for the Hall of Valor.