Her eyes were full of glitter. Well, not glitter exactly.
Dreyla stood in the center of the room, sheathed in a shimmering gold column dress. Rubies twinkled along the top edge of the high neck, her narrow silhouette enhanced dramatically by an open front over-skirt constructed by layers of luminous sheer gold fabric. The cascading train was finished with intricate lace, giving an airy, feathered effect.
"Oh...," Vanya breathed, for a lack of adequate words. She hadn't known what to expect, but it definitely hadn't been Goddess Haute Couture.
"Vanya," Dreyla said, motioning to a couch along one wall. "Wait there, if you would."
Only then did Vanya realize she no longer had Llero's hand. She glanced around quickly, relieved to see that Sadesi had pulled him aside. The dunmer looked to be half pleading, half instructing as she whispered in his ear. Certainly, if he was not to touch anything outside this room the directive applied tenfold within. The decor in this one looked to be finished, Vanya noted as she picked a careful path to the couch. Each wall had an array of paintings and tapestries, a bookshelf packed with more books than even the temple collection could boast, plush and elaborately designed carpets and everything glowing warmly from ornate oil lamps spread throughout.
It almost didn't make sense. Vanya took her seat as she watched two assistants help Dreyla step out of the dress. Modyn didn't strike her as a high maintenance type of guy, and while Dreyla did enjoy fine things- not that Vanya blamed her at all for it- this amount of overt luxury seemed...extreme.
A woman Vanya hadn't noticed previously approached Dreyla, who now looked almost a child wearing only a cotton slip. By contrast, the woman was a fortress of pressed fabrics, each crease of her robes intentional with long bell sleeves that screamed impracticality. But then that would assume she did practical things. She moved with curt and fluid politeness as she spoke, barely in earshot and obviously Dunmeri, and it seemed all Dreyla could do to not shrink away. Though the assistants concealed their amusement for the most part, the covert darting of their eyes amongst themselves completed the impression that this woman was not doling out encouragement.
Dreyla bowed her head as she was dismissed from the exchange and turned to cross the room toward the couch. Meanwhile, the woman motioned for the assistants who immediately obeyed. Something about her exacting demeanor, and the fact that she looked to be the only one who belonged in a room like this one, gave Vanya a pretty good idea of her identity.
"Good day," Dreyla said as she sat down, eyes shifting briefly to the others before returning. "Modyn's mother," she confirmed with a stiff grin.
"The joys of future in-laws," Vanya remarked, remembering a fair few tense moments and awkward questions herself.
Dreyla blinked, then knit her brow. "...but no one is an outlaw."
Of course. Chalk that one up as more of the 'weird shit' she always said, as Bralsa called it. To keep from rolling her eyes she cast them around the room. "The house looks incredible. And that dress. Dreyla, you look stunning in it."
"Thank you, that dress is magnificent isn't it?" Dreyla said with a small surge of her usual enthusiasm lighting her features, though it faded quickly. "It's all a little bit more extravagant than I expected." She scooted in, lowering her voice. "And their Dunmeri is a little different than I'm used to. And much faster. Even before we came to Raven Rock I mostly kept in caring for...uh" She looked down, drawing lines on the velvet upholstery. "I just wish that Modyn would come back soon. I haven't heard from him since this morning."
Vanya reached out and placed her hand on Dreyla's wrist. "Is there anything I can do?" Marching into Modyn's office to scold him for leaving his bride to deal with a gilded viper came to mind.
Dreyla smoothed away the lines with her palm, effectively releasing her wrist. "That's why I asked to see you. It's about the advent at the manor tomorrow. I don't know what Teldryn has said to you about it..." She paused, and Vanya shrugged obliviously. "Um, it's a private banquet for those closest to the couple the evening before the official ceremony begins."
Ah, now Hlavehrumag's army made sense.
"Teldryn is expected to join, of course." Dreyla continued tentatively, dropping her eyes. "If...if he asks you to join..." Her hands worked fitfully together. "Could you decline?"
A chill passed over Vanya's skin as she processed the request. Dreyla's gaze was full of helpless regret when she looked up and the cold spread like goosebumps. Vanya folded her arms over herself.
"It's not you," Dreyla said quickly, almost reaching out before thinking better of it. She pressed her hands together once more. "I wouldn't mind usually. It's just..." She cocked her head slightly in the direction of the others, as if she needed to clarify herself any further. Perhaps it was that Vanya had not yet given any acknowledgment other than staring, but it seemed her thoughts had frozen as well. "I have only to manage these few days, then they'll leave and things can go back to normal. Just as you said, right?"
"Yeah..." Vanya replied, remembering that she had said something like that once, though this wasn't exactly what she'd meant. "I understand." She really did. Even if Teldryn had invited her, it was an event she wouldn't have dreamed of having a place at anyway. And she knew that Dreyla truly was not the driving force behind her exclusion. Still, it all felt twisted, stinging her nose and throat like rancid horker meat.
"Thank you," Dreyla said, visibly relieved. "You're such a good friend."
Vanya might have laughed at the sentiment if she wasn't still thawing from the frigid shock. Dreyla left her to it with a final grateful glance, getting up to rejoin the others across the room.
Vanya leaned back into the couch, observing the room now in it's entirety. Golden light consumed by deep colors, gleaming embroidered fabrics, the environment and the people in it so clean and meticulously arranged. It occurred to her that it was almost like a movie set. Not that she'd ever been to one, but something about this gaudy little microcosm made her think this might be close to what it's like. She hummed thoughtfully, tilting her head. The costumes were magnificent, really. Though the characters could be more endearing.
"Sit here, julekil'yi." Sadesi passed across her vision, ushering the boy onto the seat next to her. "Remember what I said. Hm? It's quiet time, just for a little bit."
Llero's violet eyes were clear as he nodded in understanding. Sadesi turned to Vanya. "I need to double-check a few more measurements, and then must go for supplies and come back." She paused, working her teeth together. "That is, if Geldis is finished throwing a fit at the manor. And we'll need to find Bralsa or Gael to help you keep an eye on him while I'm busy. You're alright with that, yes?"
"Oh." Vanya tried her best to smile, placing her hand on Llero's back. "Of course."
Sadesi studied her a moment. "Are you alright?"
"As ever," Vanya assured.
"It won't be long," Sadesi replied. "And we can be out of here."
As they waited, Llero curled up onto the cushion, laying his head on Vanya's lap. She stroked his wild hair as he fiddled gently with the tail end of the bandage on her leg, slower and slower as his breaths lengthened until finally he stilled. It seemed his nap time was going to find him, after all. It astounded her how small he looked when he was sleeping, and how warm he got. As if all the energy he burned while awake was perceptibly building up.
With the only thing she needed pay mind to in this room sitting right in her lap, she let her eyes close. Lethargy crawled over her limbs, gradually overtaking her senses until the surroundings blurred into meaningless vibration.
That had gone on longer than he anticipated. Teldryn grumbled internally as he made his way through the tavern, vaguely noting along the way that all but the physical structure seemed to have been transplanted. The smells wafting from the kitchen nearly gave him pause in their aching familiarity, but his pining curiosity would have to be sated later. By this hour in the afternoon, Vanya was sure to have many questions. He had intended to cut the initial visit with his mother short as there would be plenty of opportunity to see one another in the coming days. It had been some sort of bewildering compulsion that had kept him through her offer of tea, and then assisting in arranging her space, after which she insisted he stay for the midday meal. She had taken that time to inform him of the itinerary of all the ceremonies he was to attend, beginning with the advent tomorrow.
He grimaced slightly as he dug into a pocket for his room key. His desire to attend the advent had been slight enough already, prior to his mother pulling a set of his father's formal robes out of one of her trunks. He'd managed to take his leave after that, not interested in an argument with her today. He'd agreed to attend, and he'd go as he was. They could all deal with it as far as he was concerned.
He slipped the key into the lock and turned it. And if he could get Vanya to attend with him, it might actually be enjoyable. The food was typically worth the obligation, and judging by the scents he was detecting this event would be no exception. He was nearly as keen to introduce her to some old favorites as he was to taste them again.
He pushed open the door, his thoughts halting at the sight of the dark and empty room.
Alright. He ran his tongue over his teeth. What now?
He knew the answer to that, already stepping back out of the room to begin his search. As he pulled the door shut, Dayn appeared beside him wearing a pleasant grin.
The Armiger glanced at the door, then back to Teldryn. "Change your mind?"
"No," Teldryn replied flatly.
"Ah, good!" Dayn reached out and turned the door handle, tossing up a magelight as he entered the room. He turned slowly in appraisal.
Teldryn leaned on the doorframe. He didn't have time for this right now. "Dayn..."
"Worry not for your intriguing young friend," Dayn interrupted, grazing a finger across her nightgown that was draped over the chair. "I have it on good authority that she is spending the afternoon in the company of my intended daughter. Among others." He grasped the back of the chair, moving the clothing to the table as he spun to face Teldryn. "So please, spare a moment for an old man?"
Teldryn closed the door behind him, relenting. All things considered there were worse places Vanya could be. Though the 'among others' caused him some concern.
At his answer, Dayn nodded and set the chair by the bed. "Join me," he said, indicating the mattress.
"You're certain that's where she is," Teldryn confirmed as he obliged.
Dayn peered at him curiously. "On my honor, Teldryn. Information on her has not been difficult to come by. And as I said..." He leaned back in the chair and tugged a small pipe and packet of tobacco from a pocket. "Intriguing. You, though, have been hard one to track." After pinching out his portion, he offered the packet to Teldryn. "A testament to your survival, I suppose."
"Truly?" Teldryn replied, reaching for his own pipe as he accepted the tobacco. "It is not as if I'm hiding. I've been here- more or less- for the past ten years. Perhaps if you communicated with Modyn you'd know that."
"Ten years, hm?" Dayn said before taking his first pull. Teldryn recognized the leaves as he packed his own pipe. Gold Kanet. Dayn sighed out the smoke. "Modyn stopped responding to my messages some twenty years ago. Suppose when that mine dried up he finally tired of my attempts to make him see reason." He took back the packet, tucking it away. "Vivec knows his mother has long avoided me in any genuine capacity."
Teldryn furrowed his brow as he lit the pipe. He'd always known Dayn to sift through others with the guarded reach of his jovial disposition. To glimpse behind the mask was not something he'd expected, and so he waited. No doubt, the Armiger had a motive.
"What happened?" Dayn began finally, eyes traveling over the co-mingling smoke before landing on Teldryn. "Do you have any idea? Not just you and me, Modyn, us individuals." He shook his head. "No, us as a whole. It wasn't the Red Year, it wasn't one catastrophic moment that changed us. It was a poison that seeped into our groundwater long before that. As we traded progress for preservation, adventure for assurance, experience for..." He grimaced, setting the tip of the pipe in his mouth. "Existence."
The Gold Kanet was strong in this blend. Teldryn's mouth tingled, each breath melding his head with the vapor that swelled around them.
"Tell me this," Dayn continued. "Who are the real ancestors? Those who cursed us, casting us down to wallow in ash and kiss their feet? Or those who share our blood," he shifted inward, raising his hand into a fist. "Who ascended from within to wrest our fates from the fickle grasp of their Anticipations?"
Teldryn blew out a long plume of smoke in reply, for these were not questions meant to draw his opinion.
Dayn resettled in his seat. "Our lives may be long, but the Daedra are eternal. Vengeful. After centuries of prophecy and failed champions, Azura finally conducted her coup. Found the puppet she needed who would systematically root out our very foundation. And once his exalted task was complete, once Lord Vivec had been forced to abandon what remained and the Ministry fell. Where was the Hortator then? The shade of Nerevar and supposed new leader of our forces?"
Teldryn watched closely as Dayn took a few agitated puffs. Surely, he aimed for more than an oblique history lesson. "What is this about?"
The edges of Dayn's mouth curled up as he looked over. "I suppose I'm overcome with old memories. You look so much like Tulseth, especially with that long pipe." He dropped his eyes to the stout one in his hand, his fingers kneading around the bowl. "Perhaps my heart thought I was speaking with him again."
Teldryn swallowed, gazing down the length of the stem in front of him, to the chamber from where a thin wisp of smoke meandered, aimless, until it dissipated into the waiting cloud. The leaves were nearly burned through so he got to his feet to retrieve the pot from the table.
"I know you see it," Dayn said as he returned and began dumping the ashes. "The way we're scattered and broken. Robbed of our glory so that we may fight for the refuse. Resources wasted on fruitless skirmishes, our warriors sent off to fortify worthless shitholes." The older man leaned in. "The finest of us disheartened and cast out." Teldryn paused, meeting his eyes. "Gher neen, you have many things to be angry about- and you have always been hard-headed. But how did it come to this?"
He emptied the pipe with a final tap then handed the pot off to Dayn. It would be simple to point out that the man had just given a rather succinct summary, but Teldryn would not insult him so. If for no other reason than the utter skill he possessed for driving a pike into a weak spot.
"The Council wanted me dead," Teldryn replied, still skirting the edge of common knowledge.
"Selvilo wanted you dead," Dayn countered. "The Council came to a separate decision."
"Not without your personal intercession." There had been every right to order his execution, as gravely wounding a high ranking General in the streets was not taken lightly. They'd taken pity for his mother's sake, and he'd accepted being painted as the foolish, grief-stricken child to spare her another loss. He was not so certain now that Dayn's effort had made much difference at all.
Dayn took a deep breath and straightened up in his seat as he stashed his pipe, the action reminding Teldryn to do the same. The camaraderie vanished, as if the feeling was tied to the objects themselves. "Why did you never return?" Dayn asked directly. "The sentence expired, Selvilo is dead. I had hoped..." He hesitated, wincing. "I had hoped that I would see you take the oath to reclaim the honor of your house. Instead you are a living ghost, and your mother silent in her fear for you."
Teldryn met his stare, right at the threshold of sincerity. Dayn held open the way, he had but to take it.
He sighed as he looked away, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. Many things in his life should have gone differently for him to seek the path of reclamation, and he regretted for the Armiger that his investment would not yield. But Teldryn could not give him what he wanted. Not rising to his father's mantle, not even the reasons why. He must offer something, though, after all this time. Something definitive, colored by truth from which Dayn could draw his own conclusions.
"I don't want the honor of my house," he said. "I'm not fit for it." He squeezed his hands into fists, then released them. "I meant to kill Selvilo that night, and my intention did not change after the guards stopped me. Or because you saved my life." He raised his eyes again. "And I am grateful for that, Dayn."
He hoped it would be enough.
It was clear Dayn now saw the limit, and he was the one to look away this time. He nodded almost imperceptibly as he spoke, "I agreed with Selvilo's motivations no more than you did, or your father for that matter. The argonians were routed, and the intelligence Modyn gathered indicated they were a rogue band." A scowl shaded his features. "It was personal vendetta that inspired the General to send a contingent to take Dagon Fel."
"Then why did he not go personally?" Dayn's eyes snapped to his, then trailed away in search for the answer. His silence corroborated the truth. There was no acceptable answer. General Selvilo had been thin-skinned and cowardly, basking in the glory wrought from the blood of better men.
Thinking of it got Teldryn to his feet. He began pacing to work off his building frustration. Over all of it, each and every little thing that brought him to this place. Over Dayn finding him to scratch at dried blood to see if the wounds were still open. What did it matter now? There was no going back.
He rounded on the Armiger, barely holding his temper through gritted teeth. "You speak as if you're trapped. Who is holding you to the faded failures of others, except for yourself? You ask me- Where is the Hortator? Who cares? Where is Vivec? Will you waste away along with their legacy or will you realize that they're gone because they don't give a fuck about you. So fuck them. Shared blood is meaningless if we're the only ones bleeding."
He stepped back, taking a breath as Dayn blinked in the wake of his outburst. He turned away, taking a few steps as he raked his fingers over his head.
"Does Boethiah bleed with you?"
Teldryn turned back at the question, seeing that Dayn had gotten to his feet as well.
"No," he answered, approaching the older man. "And she makes no demand that I cannot refuse." He pulled his sword, holding it out between them in display. "Her promises to me extend to the tip of my blade, and my rewards are given from the blood I draw with it."
Dayn didn't flinch, stepping closer to the gleaming weapon. "I miss it," he said earnestly. "It ended too soon. Having purpose." He walked past Teldryn, energy collecting in his voice. "Gathering honor for my House, regaling the halls of Vivec with glorious triumphs." He reappeared on the other side, with flames in his eyes. "Show me these rewards, Teldryn."
That he would do gladly. He sheathed his sword with a smirk. "Come."
"And while we're on the subject of gods and heroes..." Dayn said as Teldryn headed for the door. "Tell me of this Dragonborn..."
That had also gone on longer than he anticipated.
Teldryn stalked through the tavern toward his room once more. He'd told Dayn everything of his travels with Roggir. Down to the tiniest details he could recall, as if the more stories he put between them would distance the melancholy of the previous discourse. He realized by now that the Armiger had very likely raked out exactly what he meant to. Whatever it was he'd been looking for, Teldryn didn't fucking care. These past couple of weeks had worn him to threads and the only thing he cared for right now was to find Vanya and...
The door to his room was cracked open, light spilling out into the hallway along with far too much noise.
He sidled up to the doorframe, staying out of sight as he listened to the voices within. He recognized each one, and hers among them, as they chattered warmly with one another. With the vortex the boat from Morrowind had brought to shore, he did not begrudge them finding a safe place to congregate. He squeezed his eyes shut and tapped his head against the wall. But did it have to be his room?
Her laugh carried to his ears, bringing him a measure of calm. Yes, of course it did. And he needed to see her.
He pushed open the door further, entering to sudden silence and wide eyes. From all but Llero and Rodane, that is, who were in the midst of grappling on the floor. Bralsa sat along the far wall, Sadesi in the chair where Dayn had left it, Niyya and Geldis on the bed, and finally Vanya- situated on the chest where he suspected she had stashed their personal belongings seeing as the table was covered with a range of tantalizing dishes.
"Oi! Kagouti!" Rodane called from under his attacker. The child whipped his head around then leapt off the man, brandishing a ratty tern feather like a sword. "Watch out!" The breton added, giggling. "He's a killer!" Small growls accompanied every wild swipe that hit the bottom of Teldryn's waistplate. He'd give the boy credit for enthusiasm, but a waster and some proper instruction was in order before bad habits set in.
Sadesi hurriedly collected her thrashing spawn and Teldryn turned his attention back to Vanya. Her previous joy had turned reticent, and a glance around showed the feeling resonated. They were waiting on him. He sighed with resignation and headed for the table. He may as well eat.
He looked over the bounty, uncertain where to start. And where to get a plate.
Geldis came up beside him with one in hand, remedying the latter problem. "How long has it been, Teldryn?"
Teldryn received his plate without looking, still disbelieving what laid in front of him. "Is that..."
"Cabbage Biscuits," the barkeep confirmed.
"and that's..."
"Wickwheat Kwama Tart." Geldis then pointed to wide mushroom caps, piled with filling. "Scuttle-stuffed Russola. And oh, yes..." He plucked a large, dark orb from bowl, setting it on the plate. "Balvish."
Teldryn watched in awe as it rolled toward him. It had been a long time indeed since he'd had the pleasure, and he wasn't going to even entertain wondering how much it cost to find balvish bugs. These were smaller than he remembered, but he'd also been quite young when he'd last seen them. He'd always been fascinated by the beetles and their peculiar mode of defense, that of rolling into a tight ball. Unfortunately, the waning availability of mucksponge had reduced their swarms such that he expected he'd never again sample their culinary delights.
Geldis began filling in the spaces around the balvish with generous helpings from the entire spread. "It would seem that Hlavehrumag deemed the manor's kitchen unsuitable and mine adequate, and thus infested it of his own accord," he said, not sounding particularly dismayed. "Morvayn was livid on my behalf, was he not Niyya?"
"He was livid alright," the woman replied. "With the scene you caused, I think he'd have promised you the moons to get you to leave."
"Right," he said approvingly, taking her response as validation. "Part of my recompense for the indignity and grievous iniquity is a big platter and serving spoon..." He raised a ladle of spiced mashed ash yam, dropping the mass heavily onto the plate. "With which to extract my portion. He might be an insufferable wretch," the barkeep groused as he used his finger to catch a morsel that hung over the edge, bringing it to his mouth. "Mm, but he knows his craft."
The old man was strangely light in his step as he made his way back to his seat, leaving Teldryn to gain his bearings with the feast he'd just been served.
"Woah," Bralsa said, alarmed. "You're not going to smile are you?"
He shoved one of the mushrooms into his mouth, humming negatively. He closed his eyes as the flavor hit him with a wave of forgotten memory. Music drifting from glowing salons and dining rooms where from he'd steal away with other children to make a game of exploring places they weren't supposed to be. Places that would over time become familiar escapes from arbitrary rituals and increasingly petty duplicitous talk. A grin crept across his mouth as he swallowed, opening his eyes again. Places much like this.
Bralsa arched her brow, accusing good-naturedly, "Liar."
He cut his eyes to Vanya, chuckling at the sight of her amusement. Plate in hand, and careful not to tip it, he crossed the room to join her on the chest. She raised a bottle to wine stained lips and it occurred to him that he had not yet kissed her today. And how he loved the way her skin flushed when she'd had a few drinks. He had to sit slightly behind her and when she shifted to face him he wasted no time leaning in, capturing her mouth with his. He kept it chaste, cognizant of the others who were picking back up the banter amongst themselves.
He pulled away, resting an arm behind her on the footboard. She blinked at him, dazed. "Ah...Hi."
"Mmm." He licked his lips. "Is that pomegranate?"
She hugged the bottle to her chest. "Yes, and it's divine." She eyed the towering plate. "Do you think you got enough?"
"We'll see," He set the plate on his lap, picking up a biscuit. "You can have some, of course." He took a bite.
"I already did," she stated proudly.
"What all did you try?"
"Everything that at least looks like food," she said as he lifted the balvish in his palm, rolling it around. He cracked an opening in the shell with a twist of his fingers, then tipped the runny contents into his mouth. "But not that. I draw the line at giant roly-polys."
Teldryn snorted painfully as 'giant roly-poly' nearly went up his nose. He worked his way through equal amounts of coughing and laughing before he gained some semblance of composure, hearing her snicker the entire time. She offered him the bottle to help wash it all down.
"Christ," he swore as he accepted, enjoying her look of utter surprise. He took a swig, using his other hand to nudge her shoulder from behind. She leaned into him, taking back the wine so he could continue his meal.
As the evening wore on he concluded that she had it right. It was nothing short of divine.
