EPILOGUE

Jul

Octavian

It had been three months since the final battle for the Bow of Auri El, and two since my engagement to Tora had been announced, and now I stood in her family's castle. At the side of the man pretending to be my father so the Empire could remain a stable nation, where the Emperor defeated his enemy and saved the world. It had been Dorthe's idea, offered up before I had even woken up from my fight with Thera. It had been something I hadn't wanted to agree to. The idea of living with a man wearing my father's face was... painful. But it had been the right decision. The entire Empire believed that the war, though still raging, would end in our favor. Men and women from every province had enlisted, including thousands of High Elves, Wood Elves, and Khajit. There was a sense of unity, even as the few remaining members of the Sanguinis Aldmeris leadership consolidated all forces in Summerset Isle to protect themselves as they rebuilt. My father's spell he had made so long ago to create body doubles when he was away from the palace was now saving the Empire.

The High Priestess of the Nine was waiting nearby, a calm smile on her face as she waited for my bride to make her way down the hallway of the Blue Palace. Niramo and Athyn were behind me, a newly minted Praefect in his crimson formal uniform and a Dunmer High Councilor in robes of rich purple and gold. They had made it better, the loss of Fen and my father. At least when I could be with them, especially since Tora had been in Skyrim preparing for our wedding. She had sent me about... a thousand letters complaining about dress fittings, cake tastings, guest lists. But it was half-hearted. She just didn't want me to know she loved it.

And I was even more sure when she came through the double doors, taking my breath away.

Her dress was not what most would picture her in, but I knew it fit her perfectly. It had floral patterns etched into the fabric, swirling together in rose vines and roses that created an almost armor like design. The flowers themselves were the lightest shade of blue, almost white instead. Her hair was done in a single, long warriors braid that trailed down her back and held the veil that was draped over her face. The same light blue formed her fingerless lace gloves that traced up to just above her elbow before ending, leaving her bicep free of cloth until it met the shoulder. Her mother and father walked with her, but they were invisible to me. Tora herself was... stunning. She stopped on the other side of the altar, staring at me from under the veil. "Nice outfit," she whispered after getting a look at my clothes.

I was dressed in a military uniform not unlike Niramo's, though it was far more... princely, I suppose. It was a longer than usual tunic of royal purple, extending partway down my thighs. I had a crimson sash over my left shoulder that looped under my belt, which held Dawnbreaker on the opposite hip. The Amulet of Kings, reclaimed from the ashes of the dead Thera, was pinned to my chest. Golden Dragons of the Empire were on either shoulder and at the center of designs that looped around my lower forearm. There were plain black pants over the most expensive and uncomfortable boots in the Empire.

I grinned. "Nice dress," I said, barely able to speak through the nervous knot in my throat. "You're amazing." I could barely wait until the Priestess said the words before I lifted that veil off of her face and brought her lips to mine.

Zuspein – 65 Eruvos

I couldn't help but cry as I lowered the veil onto her face. The woman who had stood by me through thick and thin. Even all these years hadn't dimmed her beauty, though it had changed. She had wrinkles that had deepened along her laugh lines and gave her an eternal grin. Her hair had turned the white of the snow in her homeland, though her red had passed to our daughter and one of our sons. Her boisterous love of battle had never disappeared. Even just a few days ago, she could win a fight with almost any of the Blades, bar none. But even the brightest of flames must die out.

My face was hidden behind a mask, something I had worn for two decades while in public once my affliction had become apparent. This allowed me a freedom, however. Where my daughter, the Empress, was bound by decorum and duty to appear calm and stony faced beside her husband and children, I was allowed by my mask, an ivory image of my features through which only my golden eyes showed, to cry. I could let tears flow freely, to let my emotions rule. I could whisper behind it, the words I wanted to say. But it was what I did when it was off that mattered the most. I leaned down towards her face, still holding the veil with one hand. With the other, I slid the mask from my face. "I will always miss you, My Love." And I lowered my lips to hers for the last time. Then I pulled the mask on and walked back to my daughter, holding her by the shoulders.

Hours later, I sat in the palace with my mask removed, staring at our old bed. I held a lute she had given me as a gift in my lap, listlessly strumming the strings. She had told me I couldn't play and had given it to me on our fifth anniversary as a joke. She was still right about my playing. I stopped strumming for a while, quiet and sad, then started up again. "Father."

I turned towards my daughter in the doorway, matching eyes with her, gold meeting gold. She smiled sadly and walked over to me, sitting on the edge of the chair and grabbing my hand. Her black dress was modest and designed to look like armor, something her mother would have loved. It was very similar to the dress her mother was buried in, though my wife's had been more floral in its design. A dark mirror of her wedding dress, I realized with a sad thought. And my own suit was like the funeral mirror of the suit I had worn for our wedding. "Are you well?" she asked, smiling for me despite her red, puffy eyes.

"No," I admitted before turning away. "Are you?"

She shook her head. "No, I don't think I will be for some time. The boys can't stop crying either." Her grip on my hand tightened. "But your circumstances are different."

"It is like my heart has been torn in two, Serana, and half of it has just... vanished." I shook my head and leaned the lute against the chair. "And I've realized it's only going to get worse."

My daughter placed a hand on my cheek. "I am sorry, Father. I know that this is... not something you wanted," she said before letting go. She pulled us to our feet and hugged me tight. It felt like, for a moment, decades ago. Me, holding my little girl again after she had gotten hurt in a training fight with Delphine or been rejected by a boy that would one day be her husband. It was a simpler time, before I had known I would one day attend her funeral. And those of my grandchildren. And theirs. Before I knew that my face would always be that of a young man who had just watched his father die.

She let go of me, a sad understanding in her eyes. "If you want to go for an... extended walk, you should know that the Blades will not be near the south eastern wing." The room from my childhood. She sniffled and gave me another hug, then moved silently towards the door. She stopped in the doorway and looked back at me, sad smile still there.

"What about you, though?" I asked, the last vestige of resistance in my soul.

"The Summerset Isle annexation is enough work to bury myself in. And my kids and Constantine will be there for me. Go." A look of finality passed between us... and she left, tears streaming from her eyes for the first time that day.

And that was the last time I ever saw her, because I took the bag she had prepared for me and placed on my old bed... and I left.

The Bard

"On that day, Octavian 'died,' and there was a parade in his honor that lasted a month. The Empire celebrated his life, even as they believed him dead."

The Bard's face grew sour. "Octavian, he watched them grow up. He watched his wife grow old. He watched himself stay young. Maybe it was too much Divine energy. Half Vampire, Dragonborn, resurrected, and with a thousand Dragonsouls drank from both of the Last Dragonborn. Whatever it was, Emperor Octavian I simply couldn't age anymore. So he left, passing his Empire on to Empress Serana Atmoran I and to her son Octavian II, to his son, to his son, to his daughter, to her daughter, to her son, and so on. That was more than two hundred years ago, at the dawn of the Fifth Era, and Octavian has not been seen since."

"And yet here you are," Wulf said. He leaned against the bar and chuckled. "Telling lies in a bar."

The Bard laughed, a loud and echoing noise not unlike his father's. "Yep. Here I am. Telling lies in a bar to a god."

"No, for now I think this is just speaking Dragonborn to Dragonborn. Emperor to Emperor." Wulf stated with a chuckle. "Emperors can lie to each other, can't they? And besides, you just told me the truth."

"Maybe, but I'm no Emperor. And whatever duties I had as a Dragonborn are long since completed," the Bard replied with a shrug. He stood up and put a Seran down to pay for the meals. "It's on me." And then he walked for the door.

Wulf shook his head. "They are both titles that never quite leave you, Octavian. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but you'll have to take up both of them again. A life is a long time, and a lot of possibilities. An eternity, even more so. Do what you need to move on. But move on."

Octavian stopped at the door and glanced over his shoulder. He opened his mouth and shut it, then turned away. "To quote my father, 'Praise Talos.'" Then he left the room, walking out into the wide world yet again and leaving a god to sit alone in a bar.

Talos laughed to himself, then motioned for the barkeep. "Another few meads and... a plate of the storm cooked beef." He gestured at the Seran. "It's on my friend."

The End

AN:

And there it is, the end of three years of writing, all the ups and downs. This was always the planned ending, a pretty different go from the usual chapters, but one I hope communicates what I was going for. That, even though I don't write what comes next in this universe, technically there is something. Life goes on, even for immortals. It's different, but I hope you liked it.

Now, I will be closing my poll around 48 hours after this has been posted and the winner will be announced in Arc of Redemption.

Now, for responses:

To G3r1k: I really liked writing the climactic chapter. It felt like I was able to get everything done that I wanted to, from the fight to the end. I'm sad it's coming to an end, too, but happy, as well. I'm glad it got to be whole.

To EroSlackerMicha: What could be brutal enough for Thera, after all the stuff she's done? I hope this last chapter provides a satisfying epilogue to the story.

To King Endercreeper: It took a long time, didn't it? A lot of people died at Thera's hands, but she eventually got her just desserts. Too bad it cost Oct and Luc so much, huh?

Anyways, to everyone, I just want to say thank you. It's been a long and amazing ride with all of you. I planned for only 50,000 words and I got five times that by the end. For a while there in the middle, I was worried I wouldn't be able to finish, given how slow it was going. I'm glad we got here, all of us. Thank you for sticking with this story and its characters. I hope you love them as much as I did.

Guur ahrk nox hi.