Sup all. Kinda rushed this so I'm not happy with it, but I had a brief little 'light-bulb' moment about a whole lot of things. Wanted to get this out, and BAM. A last, final bit of prologue-ness before I start with actual story, so enjoy peace while it lasts.
I also tried out a weird Suicide Squad thing, so that had a partial bit of my attention. That's my excuse for lateness. TAKE IT OR LEAVE IT.
Peace.
The very air was tense across Olympus. Whether it was from the worried immortals and deities or a direct result of Zeus feeling on edge was a matter up for debate, and as everyone milled about trying to do their business or work there was a distinctive feeling of collective worry.
And it was all towards a certain Dunmer soon-to-be mother.
Barenziah was currently in the throes of childbirth, surrounded by a slew of Hera's personal handmaidens and being tended to by the goddess herself.
"Steady, little one. Do not cause your mother any more discomfort than she already feels." Hera's words seemed to have an effect, as the babe ready to leave her womb seemed to go slightly still, calmed for the moment.
Barenziah herself was resolutely facing the ordeal with a stern expression, sweat running down her tired yet gentle visage. She would not show weakness in front of the goddess, she—
"Eeeeaaaagggghhhh!" Barenziah could no longer hold onto her emotionless mask she had been wearing for the past hours. The pain simply was too great, even with the handmaidens and the Matron Goddess at her sides. Hera continually attempted to use her godly powers to soothe the woman's pain, but it seemed as if it was having no effect on her at all. The Queen of the Gods racked her mind, wondering what could possibly be wrong with her charge…
-ϾǂϿ-
"You say that anyone can use magics in your world?" Hera was currently discussing the intricacies of Barenziah's world, Nirn, with the Moon Goddess Artemis over a calming cup of tea on the terrace of her palace on Olympus.
"Indeed my lady, magicks are quite common where I hail from. I myself am not well versed in some of the more intricate schools of magic such as the schools of Alteration or Illusion, but I was taught heavily in Restoration and Destruction. I also know enough to be labeled passive in the tree of Conjuration, but my specialty is that of the Destruction tree." To accentuate her point, Barenziah held out a palm and conjured a small bout of flame that she shot upwards, creating a small pillar of flame that she soon dispelled.
"Amazing…" Artemis whispered. Over the past months the maiden had slowly begun to care for the Dunmer, speaking frequently with her and learning of the world that she had abandoned. "How many schools are there in total?" Barenziah took a sip of her tea in thought, before swallowing down the calming substance.
"It's been some time since my last lesson, but if my memory flows correctly then I believe there are… six? Nay, seven. Eight by technicality: Restoration, Conjuration, Destruction, Illusion, Mysticism, Alteration, Thaumaturgy, and the Art of Enchanting."
"That is quite a sum few." Remarked Hera.
"Indeed. And you say that anyone in your world, even a babe, has the capability to hold such power?" Artemis leaned forward, placing her cup down in thought.
"Of course, though only through great practice and strengthening of body and spirit can someone grasp the powers of magic. Someone the age of child wouldn't be able to produce much more than a few fizzling bouts of sparks. Strangely though, I was a special case." At this, the Dunmer queen slowly and quietly placed her cup of tea down on the wooden table, seemingly lost in a memory. The two goddesses glanced at each other, a questioning look passing between the two of them.
Barenziah sighed, bringing the two Olympians' attentions back to the almost melancholic woman.
"Forgive me," Barenziah spoke softly, "I simply yearn for the touch of my family. It is not in my destiny to see their smiles directed at me ever again. The thought just… touched me, for a moment." Hera slid her chair back and stood, her bare feet barely making a noise against the pristine white mosaic that adorned the open balcony. The queen of the Olympians walked slowly over to the railing, leaning her hands against it whilst looking out over the valley that her palace resided over.
The three simply enjoyed the rustling of the breeze as it flew by, until Hera responded.
"Did you know that I once thought that I would never see my mother again?" Barenziah didn't respond, simply choosing to look at the goddess with a questioning expression.
"Rhea – my mother – was a Titan, one of the beings that I told you about which preceded us. It was by her machinations that the Olympian Council does not currently reside within the stomach of our father, Kronos." Barenziah's eyes widened at that.
"I beg pardon?"
Hera gave a wry grin. "Listen awhile, Barenziah. My father and his siblings toppled the Old Rule of Ouranos, but when they did so, Ouranos called out to him and claimed that one day Kronos' children would topple him the same way that he had toppled Ouranos."
As Hera spoke, she took ahold of a flower from a nearby pot. The plant began to move, slithering like a living being around her fingers.
"He didn't believe it right away due to his immense hubris, but as the eons passed he began to believe the words more and more."
The goddess held the center of the flower up to her face, seemingly seeing something in its depths as the story progressed.
"And so when my mother became with child, Kronos requested that he be present during the birthing. When my mother finally begat us he grabbed each of us and swallowed us whole, one by one. When it was time for my Zeus to be born, she requested that her handmaiden retrieve a large boulder for Kronos to swallow in his place. Kronos didn't even think to look at the stone, he simply gulped it down without hesitation."
Hera finally placed the flower back in its pot and returned to her seat with the other two women. Her cup of tea had remained at its full temperature throughout their meeting, and she took a long drought of the calming drink. Being a goddess she had no need to eat or drink, but she always enjoyed the action of doing so. It gave her a sense of contentedness that she never felt anywhere else.
This was the feeling that mortals had throughout their lives, and if Hera was honest with herself, she was a little envious.
"The fool hadn't even realized that he had swallowed the wrong thing," continued Hera. "And when my mother was ready to give birth to Zeus, she left to a secluded island and gave birth. Once Zeus was strong enough to fight our father, he took ahold of Kronos' great scythe and cut open his stomach and rescued us who were swallowed whole. Once we had been freed, our elder sister Hestia grabbed ahold of Kronos and allowed Zeus the opportunity to decimate him. With the scythe Zeus was able to cut our father into millions of tiny pieces, which we then promptly gathered and tossed into the darkest pits of Tartarus."
-ϾǂϿ-
"Just a little more, little one. You're doing so well!" Barenziah couldn't tell through the haze of pain whether or not the goddess was speaking to her or her expectant. But in her current state, it was of little matter to the soon-to-be mother.
"Barenziah, you are magnificent my dear. Just keep pushing onwards, hold out just a little while longer and your child will soon be with us!"
Barenziah wanted to acknowledge her Lady Patron, to confirm that she would not break to the pain. She opened her mouth, and instead of affirmation another scream tore from her throat.
"Eeeeaaaagggghhhh!"
-ϾǂϿ-
The sharp RANG and CLANG of a hammer striking an anvil reverberated all throughout the forge, as Barenziah shaped a small bronze ingot out into its shape.
"Remember now, you're not just making the blade, but the stem as well. A blade is all well and good, but it needs to be held to be swung." Hephaestus called out from over the sounds of the workshop. He watched as the Dunmer swung the hammer with purpose, and was pleased at the progress she had made in just a few short weeks. When the young woman had initially arrived, she soon found herself on his forge's front steps looking for familiarity to fill her time.
She may have been doted on hand and foot by his mother and her subjects, but he couldn't exactly fault her for wanting to find something to do. He knew better than most that idle hands made for self-contempt and a fretful mind.
"It's not enough to simply apply heat and restart after the blade has started to cool, you must continually work with the grain of the metal," Hephaestus cautioned his charge. "Too much pressure can be your enemy as well. A mindful smith must even their strikes, and remember that the blade is not present yet. You are making it from a fragile material that can and will wear."
Barenziah returned the nearly finished blade to the pit once more for a final heating, wiping sweat from her brow as she did so. "Does that not require complete omniscience of the blade? How can one observe the entire metal's being whilst shaping it?"
The Smith God chuckled. "You are not incorrect, little one," he grinned at the Dunmer before sending a blast of fire to the pit and heating the metal back almost instantaneously.
"You are not the first to wonder how it is done, and the only advice I can give you is that of crypticism: you will know when the blade speaks to you through your own actions." Barenziah gave an unladylike snort.
"If not completely unhelpful, that is indeed cryptic." Barenziah reached back with a gloved hands and took up the nearly shaped blade from its resting place, taking up the hammer once she was ready. The weighted metal struck in succession once more, filling the room with the sounds of a workshop once again.
Hephaestus guffawed at the girl's answer, and resigned to watch with a careful eye the last few processes that required special attention. With every swing of the hammer, the ashen skinned woman grunted with exertion, her every motion keyed to her current desire: forging a weapon of her very own. She had been stopped by her Lady Hera, who had shown concern over her exerting herself in such a manner. Early into her second month, the elven woman's determination had eventually worn down the goddess with the assurance that she would be perfectly aware of the newborn inside her.
Hephaestus had taken her under his wing immediately, partially at her natural talent when it came to forgework and partially at her nonchalance at his deformed appearance (the latter of which made him incredibly happy, even though there wasn't any way she could have understood the significance of her actions to him).
Barenziah grunted one last time, the shape of the blade outlined and formed as she set the hammer down to the side and quenched the blade in oil.
"Alright, I think you've done quite the job today," praised Hephaestus. Taking the nearly cooled blade from her hands, he brought it up to his face with an appraising eye roaming its surface.
"Well? Is it adequate for a recent convert such as myself?" Barenziah leaned against the anvil next to her, swiping a gloved hand across her brow once more. The grime from the handwear had left a rather large streak across her face, and coupled with the sweat covering her body it lent for a visage that told anyone who laid eyes on her that she was a hard-working woman.
Hephaestus set the blade down, and chuckled at the sight of the young girl in front of him. Not even at her second decade of life, and yet even with the threat of danger poised at her unborn she still walked with a fervor he had only seen in warriors past. Raising a hand and letting it fall down across her, Barenziah soon found herself as clean as when she had first entered his forge that day.
"I will refine this for you little one, as I believe you have a meeting with Hecate soon, do you not?"
"Damnation, I had nearly forgotten! I almost do not wish to meet now, with my exhaustion as it is," Barenziah slumped against the anvil, the effort from the day having fully realized itself inside her.
The Forge God chuckled at the girl's antics, noticing how similar she was to some of his own daughters when it came to the topic of appointments. "Your decision won't hold water with her, Barenziah. Her curiosity with your magic is not something comparable to a random trinket."
"That doesn't mean that I plan to stay for very long."
"Ha! I would wish you luck, but I wouldn't trust my own words!"
Barenziah headed towards the door, taking off her gloves as she did so. "I wish you a good day, my Lord."
"You, my dear Barenziah," Hephaestus smiled as warm as his forge fires, "may simply refer to me as Hephaestus. You honor me enough with who you are."
-ϾǂϿ-
Barenziah was no stranger to pain. She had been cut, stabbed, burned, frozen, bruised, and exhausted to the point of near death over the course of her lifetime, yet she had come out each and every time no worse for the wear with only a distant memory as a reminder (restoration magic was rather impressive that way).
Yet as the Dunmer lay on her bed with Hera by her side, the magics that were directed towards her pain seemed nonexistent. Barenziah's sharp mind tried to focus on why that might be, instead of the—
"Graaaaaaaaaaahhhh!"
-ϾǂϿ-
"Again!" At her lady's beckoning, Barenziah readied herself for another blast.
"HAH!" A gout of fire erupted from her outstretched palm and incinerated the target in front of her. The wood was there in one moment, and in the next there stood in its place a pile of smoldering ash.
"I don't understand my lady, I have struck nearly fifty-and-three of these faux enemies down to rubble. Do you not wish to observe the other schools of magic?" Barenziah wiped the sweat from her ash-grey skin and turned to the Mistress of Magic, the goddess Hecate.
"Little one, I don't require you to understand. I simply need you to do as instructed. Now—" the goddess summoned another wooden target, and removed all traces of the previously disintegrated. "Again."
Barenziah frowned, dispelling the fire burning in her palm.
"Forgive me my lady, but I have nearly exhausted all but a grain of my reserve. I believe that I am owed some explanation as to why I am running myself ragged with these… 'trials…' as you put it. I was told my lady Hera that I need to rest this morn, yet nonetheless I am here of my volition and assisting your interests. Why is this?" Barenziah stubbornly stared directly into the goddess' eyes, before the stern immortal finally relented and conjured a table set for herself and the Dunmer.
"Very well… sit with me awhile."
Barenziah acquiesced, coming to rest across from the Goddess of Magic. Two cups appeared in a bright violet light, and were filled with a grape scented tea that sent pleasant shivers down Barenziah's spine. The Dunmer noticed as she took the cup from the lilac colored table cloth, just how much the goddess seemed to love the color purple. From the dress she wore, to the jewels that hung from her ears, and even coating the tops of her nails like a strange paint.
"It's because of my mother."
Barenziah shook herself of her thoughts, and stared at the deity before her, questioning in her eyes.
"The color of violet, and why I exude it in practically every way." The goddess sipped elegantly at her tea, eyes closed in satisfaction. She returned her cup to the table and leaned back in her chair, staring into Barenziah's eyes all the while. The two sat in silence for a short while, sipping their tea until Hecate finally spoke with a sigh.
"I thank you for your patience with me. I realize that I can be quite… uncouth at times. This isn't my intention, I assure you."
Barenziah shook her head lightly. "Nonsense my lady. I have met many an uncouth encounter throughout my terse existence, yet you do not strike me as such."
"Your words are kind, little Queen, yet they do not excuse my actions thus far today. An explanation is owed."
The goddess lazily aimed a single finger towards the target sitting some feet away, and a small stream of flames shot towards the wooden opponent and set the whole thing ablaze in an instant. Yet nearly as quick as the flames began to spread, they sputtered out of existence as if they never existed— the only trace remains being a small charred area around the target area, the smooth marble coated in a ring of soot.
"Did you notice anything interesting, Barenziah? Anything… strange, perhaps? A difference between yours and my actions?" Hecate raised a brow at the elf, while Barenziah could only see the vast difference in power between them both. She was about to voice this, but the goddess gestured towards the target with a wave. "Go ahead then. Try for yourself."
Barenziah stood from the table quietly, and took aim as instructed. Her magicka nearly restored completely, she summoned an 'incinerate' spell and fired it towards the target. In a bright and brief flash, the target was once more caught in a blaze, yet this time it did not go out. The target was vaporized just like all the ones that had predated it, and Hecate swept the ashes away like she had all of the others prior.
"Well? What do you think is the defining moment here?"
"Why didn't you dispatch my flames as you have yours?"
Hecate smiled at the Dunmer's question, and waved her hand about the area, and suddenly Barenziah could see a dark violet haze permeate the area. It was like a thick layer of smoke, but magical in its essence. The elf waved her hand about and watched as the mist-like curtain moved about her hands in wonder.
"This is a Dispellment Coating. I've been consistently adding more and more power into this spell, trying to nullify your magic and leave it inert. But for a reason that I've not yet discerned—"
"You can't block my magic…" Barenziah breathed out, to which Hecate didn't even blink at the interruption.
"Indeed."
Barenziah couldn't believe what she was hearing. The goddess of all things mystical and magical had essentially just told her in totality that she could not negate Barenziah's own spellcasting.
"How can this be my lady?"
Hecate sighed, taking another sip of her fruity tea as she did. "As to the best of my knowledge? Your magic is so esoteric to our own that there is no way for yours to be stopped by any conventional means. So far only your magic can negate your own, as I've seen with the wards you've casted. It would seem that I've found something that my sorcery simply cannot control: yours." The goddess placed her drink back down and followed Barenziah's gaze.
"The magic of our realm cannot influence you. It cannot effect you in the slightest, and that is what both intrigues me and terrifies me."
Barenziah slipped quietly back into her conjured seat. She could now understand why the goddess had been as focused as she had been earlier, and gazed over to the spot that the targets had occupied.
If her magic couldn't be warded off by the Goddess of Magic herself… what would that mean for the future?
What would it mean for her child?"
-ϾǂϿ-
The pain was getting unbearable, almost too much for Barenziah to be thinking coherently. Hera continued to work her own magic, yet she had no idea that her magic was practically as useless as lighting a candle against a hurricane.
"The babe is coming, my lady! The head is showing itself!"
"Very good, Illethia!" Hera turned her attention back to Barenziah, and began to pour more and more magic into her charge. Soon her power was shining like a small sun, seeping into the young woman and her child like a sponge with water.
Hera refused to let one that she cared for feel this much pain, and if that meant doing all that she could… then that meant doing all that she could.
"My lady, the child is arriving! They are almost out!"
"There! Cut the cord, Kaedos!"
Several tense seconds later, the beautiful and breathtaking telltale sounds of a baby's crying rent the air. As Illethia held up the babe for her mother to see, Barenziah felt herself crying once more, only this time they were tears of joy.
A bouncing baby boy with ashen grey skin lay in her arms, covered in fluids and grime but wailing with a set of lungs that only lent credence to his heritage. Tiny twin points on his ears evidenced his mother's own ancestry, and made for a wonderful sight for the Dunmer woman to see. His arms flailed lightly, seeking some form of comfort in his newfound coldness. Hera snapped her fingers, and in a brief flash all of the fluids had been wiped away, and a warm blanket had been wrapped around the infant's body. The goddess took ahold of him from her handmaiden and deposited the child in his mother's arms, and couldn't help but shed a few tears herself at the sight.
It had been a long journey in such a short period of time, but Barenziah had delivered her child in peace and safety. There had been terrifying and wondrous things that had happened upon them both, and despite it all they had finally met face to face.
Mother and son. Barenziah's child was introduced into the world by a booming declaration from the Queen of the Gods herself, and as her little boy calmed himself the young queen drifted off into a content and exhausted sleep along with her child.
Septim's legacy had finally been born.
Sooo... there it is.
A baby boy was the outcome of the decision. Had some help deciding from some lovely PM's though, so thanks (you know who you are.)
Also thank you guys for the reviews, they mean a lot:
GUEST: Good observation with the Dragonfires, it was kind of in the back of my head in regards to how Hircine just kinda BLOOPed his way onto Earth. As to the champion thing, in this continuity Hircine hadn't been worshiped in a very long time due to Septim outlawing the worship of Daedra in the Empire. No followers means no one to champion. I thought I made it kinda-sorta evident, but I'm seeing now how it was really darkly veiled. Hope this clears that up a bit.
Hingo2: I have an idea that I'm toying with in regards to the kid having the ability to Shout, but I'm not sure if it'll quite work out. The good news is that I don't have to figure it out for a while. Also, fun fact: this story actually survived because I was talking with a friend of mine about how screwed up Talos just really was, and how peeved I was that every story ever just kind of ignores how he butted his way into godhood. Very few stories out there make him evil, and I really wanted to make a story about that, and he told me that he had. He hated where he went with it, and said if I wanted to mess with it or just outright take it I could.
Peace.
