Snippets of Destiny
By Leoni Venter
Based on Oblivion by Bethesda Softworks
Part 8: Reunion
"This way, Your Majesty."
Jauffre lead Martin into Cloud Ruler Temple's main hall, explaining the layout of the building as he went. "To the left are the living quarters. Your room will be upstairs, I think. And to the right is the mess hall." He regarded Martin closely. "What is the matter, Your Majesty?"
Martin sighed, pushing a weary hand through his hair. "Just tired. Please Jauffre, call me Martin. I can't think with all of you calling me Highness and Majesty like I'm someone special."
Jauffre nodded in agreement, but Martin could almost see him decide to slip in a few honorifics all the same. He supposed he could not blame the Blades for their joy in discovering an heir to the Septim throne after they had lost all hope, but he kept looking around to see the important person they were addressing.
Jauffre was leading him to his room. "If you're tired, perhaps you would like to get some rest. It's been a long journey and you've had a lot of shocks. Baurus here will bring your supper." He indicated a Redguard Blade standing at attention.
"Your Majesty! I shall die to protect you!"
"Let's hope you won't need to, Blade," Martin said, feeling overwhelmed. "But supper would be nice."
"At once, Your Majesty!" Baurus disappeared in the direction of the mess hall.
"What's with him?" Martin asked Jauffre as they climbed the stairs.
Jauffre smiled. "Forgive Baurus for his enthusiasm. He blames himself for the Emperor's death, even though there is nothing he could have done. He is overjoyed to have an Emperor to protect once more."
"I see."
Jauffre opened a sliding door, revealing a large room with a bed, table and washing facilities. "I hope this will suffice," he said. Martin could hear the unspoken 'Your Majesty' all too clearly.
Smiling, he shook his head. "This is ample, my friend. My room at the Temple in Kvatch was little more than a cell."
"Then I'll leave you to get settled in," Jauffre said. "Good night... Martin."
"Good night Jauffre. And... thank you."
Jauffre nodded and closed the door as he left. Martin looked around the room, debating whether to just fall into bed and sleep, or whether to wash up a bit first. He remembered that there was still supper to come, so he postponed the sleeping. He was plunging his face into the water when there was a soft knock on the door. "Come in," he called through the drops. "Just put it on the table, please."
When he had rinsed his face and dried it, he finally noticed that it was not Baurus who had brought the tray of food. This person was dressed in a dark green robe and a hood that shaded his face so that only an impression of eyes and features could be seen. "I'm sorry, did you need anything?" Martin asked when the robed man said nothing.
"Hello Martin," the figure finally spoke.
Marting recognized the voice after a moment. "Lark? Is that you?"
Lark threw back the hood, revealing his pale face and red eyes. "None other."
"I thought you were dead!" Martin exclaimed. "It's been ten years. When my father told me that you had left, and I heard nothing from you, I thought..."
"I'm sorry," Lark said. "I couldn't tell you where I'd gone; this place is kept hidden, after all."
"You've been here all this time? But, why would the Blades let you stay here?" Martin was having trouble keeping all the revelations straight in his head.
"I am a Blade," Lark explained patiently. "When they heard that I'd become a vampire, they recalled me to Cloud Ruler Temple, where I could live in safety." He noted Martin's growing comprehension. "Yes, I was a Blade when we met. I'd been assigned to teach you self-defense and to protect you."
Martin shook his head. "This is... too much," he said, swaying on his feet.
Instantly Lark was at his side, supporting him until he could sit down. "Here, eat something," Lark said firmly. "They tell me you'd journeyed here without pause, from Kvatch? And you've been attacked several times?" Martin nodded, chewing bread. "Then you really have had too much, I agree."
He refused to answer any more questions, and made sure that Martin ate enough to satisfy him. "Now, get some rest," he instructed finally. "We'll talk in the morning."
Martin, too tired to protest, meekly lay down as Lark snuffed the candles. As he slipped into sleep he thought he heard the vampire speak.
"Good night... Your Majesty."
--
They were standing on the buttress, overlooking Bruma in the early hours before dawn. "Other vampires no doubt find me rather pathetic," Lark was saying. "I live on the blood from the venison the huntsmen bring in every day." He smiled. "But I must be the only vampire in history who has drunk the blood of a Septim."
Martin grinned. "Not by your choice, though."
"Even better," Lark agreed. "A Septim volunteered me his blood."
"I didn't know I was a Septim then," Martin disavowed. "It doesn't count."
"Will you take away everything I could boast of?" Lark asked melodramatically.
"I would volunteer you my Septim blood rather than do that," Martin said earnestly. "I owe you too much."
Lark shook his head. "Now you've gone and spoiled a perfectly good moment with unwarranted sentimentality."
A passing Blade on patrol gasped as he overheard Lark. Apparently one does not address one's Emperor-in-waiting like that.
Martin laughed. "How do you get away with that? You don't seem to be under the same rules of hierarchy as the other Blades."
"I'm a close personal friend of the Emperor's," Lark explained, straight-faced. "Besides, they've long ago given up trying to fit me to the mold. I got the job to teach you because even then it was obvious I would bend the rules and break the mold." He smiled his toothy smile. "Now, I think they've finally gotten used to me. And of course, I'm a living legend, for my singing."
"Your modesty is awesome indeed," Martin said. "It's so good to have you here as a friend; one who isn't bowing and scraping to me all the time, although I have done nothing to deserve it."
Lark turned to look at him. "I do my bowing and scraping when you're not looking, Martin. You may think you've done nothing, but you've given these people – all of Tamriel – hope." He gestured out over the sleeping town. "And I have a feeling you will still get to earn all that respect." A moment of silence. "Oh, look at that; dawn is breaking." He turned and started walking back along the wall. "I'm off to bed for a nap, Your Majesty. If you'll excuse me?"
"Certainly," Martin said, following him. "I'm for the books, I think. There's a lot to learn and not much time to do it."
"You were always a quick learner," Lark quipped. "You'll do well enough!"
Disclaimer: All of Oblivion belongs to Bethesda Softworks. I'm just letting my mind wander through time and dark dungeons a bit...
Author's Note:
Those of you who've been adding up the years will notice that Martin is 33 now. When I decided to write this story I tried to get as much information from the game as possible, so I used the Construction Set to see what ages Bethesda had made the characters. According to the CS, Jauffre is 60, and Martin is 50. This seems impossible, as Jauffre had been captain of the Blades when Martin was born. Somehow I doubt he could have been captain at age 10! I guess Bethesda didn't think of that, or otherwise the ages in the CS don't refer to real age, but are just used for generating the faces.
In any case, I decided to keep Jauffe at age 60 for the game (since he'd been "retired" at Weynon Priory), and speculate that he must have been at least 27 when Martin was born, so Martin is 33 at the time of the game, in my story, at least. This makes the Emperor 54 when Martin was born, which is perfectly possible ;-)