Chapter 30: Being Put in Place
A line had been crossed, and Arelius wasn't about to let it slide. He didn't even wait for the woman at his heels to finish speaking before he pushed his way through the double doors and boldly strode further into the compound. The University was involved with the chaos sphere purely for advice and Geoffrey's orders for cooperation, but that cooperation only extended so far as the empire's interests were concerned. Just because Arelius had said that the University might be entrusted with the sphere didn't meant that they had a right to expect or force the issue, and that the mages had dared appear at his home, asking to see Portia in an open affront against his stipulated terms, agitated the Blade's sense of pride and authority. There was no reason that Portia should need to flee in the middle of the night while his wife dealt with unwanted visitors.
"Sir, Arch-Mage Traven and the council aren't ready!" objected a small voice behind him. The tiny Bosmer was futilely attempting to overtake Arelius's brisk pace without jogging.
"They're in here?" Arelius questioned, unconcerned with the woman's flustered expression.
"Yes, but sir..." her voice trailed off as Arelius entered another room, his hard, brown eyes quickly scanning over the handful of men and women seated in a large circle around him. Some glared at his sudden appearance while others whispered and shook their heads, darting glances at Traven, who sat at the far curve of the circle with hands folded across his lap, looking like a king on his ornate throne. Then an assortment of robed bodies angled toward Arelius as he boldly stepped forward, completely unfazed by the tension permeating the air, and face stern as he waited to be acknowledged.
"Sir Arelius," Traven finally spoke, the room's murmurs dying as the man's voice rose. The Arch-Mage was as stoic as Arelius, the two facing off without any sign of retreat. Still, Arelius knew that he couldn't be as abrupt as he desired, for the situation called for some decorum and caution lest he create unnecessary hostilities between forces that occasionally benefited one another.
"Arch-Mage Traven," he politely replied. "The secretary mentioned that you might be busy, but considering the importance of the issue at hand, I thought it acceptable that I pay you an impromptu visit."
"I'm assuming that you are referring to the message that several of my colleagues delivered to your home last night," Traven stated, back straight as an arrow. "If that is the case, I fail to see why you could not wait to be summoned for an audience." Arelius took another step forward and ignored the numerous eyes pinned on him, everyone waiting to see his reaction to the silent reprimand within Traven's comment. The sound of his heavy boots hitting the floor echoed around the large, vaulted chamber, and the secretary hurriedly moved to seal the room's doors.
"I do not take issue with having a few unexpected guests," Arelius commented. "What I take issue with is that they wished to remove Portia from my home for a private conversation in the middle of the night, and offended my wife by imposing themselves on her at such an hour. I was under the impression that the Council of Mages had more tact than that." Traven's face hardened, and fingers tightened around the staff lying across his knees.
"Our current situation is of the utmost importance. You yourself came to us for aid, and a new development led us to seek out information from Lady Augustine. I apologize for the inconvenient hour and any offense, but the problem facing us is larger than we imagined, and we were apt to act rather than wait." How very diplomatic. Arelius wished that Portia was present to hear the mage's paper-thin justifications.
"Any University involvement in this case is to go directly through me," Arelius reminded the council. "You have been invited to provide input, but that gives you no right to act independently, as if the problem in question were under your jurisdiction. Last time I checked, University interference in official Imperial business wasn't sanctioned." Nervous eyes shot back to the Arch-Mage, and Arelius waited.
"We hold the empire's interests above our own," Traven declared. "And since we have offended you so greatly in this misunderstanding, perhaps you would be kind enough to personally escort Lady Augustine here for an audience, or at least inform her of our need to see her." I imagine that you would love that now that she's disappeared, Arelius thought, the sarcastic edge to his tongue muted by years of schooling.
"I'm afraid that she is currently in the middle of an important assignment," Arelius casually shared. "I do not know when she'll return, and when she does, whether or not she wishes to see you will be her choice. You have not given me a reason for your urgency, and so I will not give her a direct order." Traven's hands had slowly been forming a death grip around his staff, and now he flew upward from his seat, jaw set squarely as Arelius finished dismissing the council's request.
"A reason?" Traven demanded. "She is holding one of the most dangerous and destructive artifacts known to man, and the resulting channeling of magicka is daily being measured by my mages." Arelius noted a few eyebrows rise at his word choice. "As a man of reason, I'm sure you see the danger, and we would like to examine Portia for adverse effects."
"An admirable concern that I'll decline from sharing," Arelius retorted. "You should have considered your argument before attempting to skirt the rank of command here." At that, Traven's eyebrows almost leapt off of his forehead, and a brief female chuckle was heard from the edges of the room, making bodies shift uncomfortably.
"Are you suggesting...?"
"I'm suggesting nothing," Arelius calmly dismissed. "I'm merely reminding the Council and the University in general that should they seize a citizen or take items that belong to someone else, it will be illegal and handled as such." Traven's scowl smoothed into smugness as he reseated himself, and Arelius could imagine what the man was thinking. Imperial guards could search the University for weeks and never uncover its secrets, and that, plus the loyalty that the mages would feel in dispelling an intrusion into their world, would foil justice. His threat was muted by that knowledge, and Traven dared Arelius to make good on his words as fingers gently released a staff.
"We wouldn't dream of breaking the law for our own ends," Traven assured, and Arelius coldly smiled. It was time to bluff.
"Good. I'd hate for the Elder Council to insert itself into University governance as it did during the last political crisis. Ocato does hold that right since your charter is dependent on the government." A drop of sweat could have been heard falling in the room as Arelius dismissed himself. "Good day, and thank you for your time." It felt good to have something to hold over the mages, but Arelius knew that Traven wouldn't take long in discerning the level of seriousness behind his threat, meaning that Arelius's next stop was the Elder Council.
Portia would need to hide until he could gain some actual leverage over the University, but it wouldn't be a problem since Ocato liked expanding the council's power. Besides, the high councilor owed him a favor, and collecting on it would either be acceptable or gained through pressure. There was, after all, a reason that the Elder Council was wary of the Blades, for they answered to the emperor, not other officials. Nothing was going to jeopardize Imperial business—nothing. And so, it was with a satisfied air that Arelius departed the University and continued his never-ending tasks, his path uninterrupted but for a glimmer of silver that caught his eyes along the street.
A ring?
Arelius pocketed the piece of jewelry for no particular reason, and then he was on his way.
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Mehrunes strode along the palace training yard with an overcast expression, his mind noting the distinct absence of pupils this morning. Apparently lessons had been canceled, which meant that Portia wasn't here either, and he'd even checked the library. Not at home, not at work, and Arelius's manor was still being watched by mages. Fetching mortals couldn't make anything simple, and for once, he hoped that the Blades were capable of protecting their own, but how had Portia gotten out of the house unnoticed? Now she was missing, and while the mages might not be able to find her, neither could he, which was the first since he'd come to this plane.
The daedric prince paused as a swordsman crossed his path, the man's tunic soaked with sweat.
"What happened to the morning classes?" he roughly demanded.
"Oh, um..." The man was clearly taken aback by Mehrunes' impatient tone. "If you mean the children, classes have been suspended until Lady Augustine returns from a trip. At least, that's what I was told." Damn. Mehrunes stalked off while the useless human frowned at him. "You're welcome!"
Not today, mortal. You're lucky that I don't have time to waste.
Mehrunes continued walking, oblivious to everything around him as he contemplated ordering Ruined Cloak to kill the spying mages, but no, that would serve no purpose. Portia might be physically removed from him, but there was another way to find her, and he intended to employ it once the sun went down. She was more susceptible to his callings when asleep, but this time he wouldn't merely be summoning her. No, he wanted to go to her—see if spirit travel could work both ways, and if it did, she was as good as his.
********************
There were no rats, no undead, and no booby traps, but it was still a tomb. Portia sat on a bedroll in the corner directly beside the stairs that led upward to daylight, and watched the candle beside her flicker, creating a halo of light that did almost nothing to illuminate the large chambers ahead. There were three rooms branching off of this one, and she'd taken the liberty of exploring them yesterday to find them blissfully empty. There were no exposed corpses—only wall niches that held stone coffins, some with names and others without—and her greatest enemies were the old cobwebs branching between stone pillars.
Overall, the place was dark, cool, and silent, which melded into an eerie isolation that reminded her of a time when she'd been dispatched to the countryside. Caught in the rain, she'd hidden under the walls of an Ayleid ruin, where even the shadows seemed to promise trolls or worse. It wasn't a comforting comparison as she wrapped a blanket about her shoulders and inhaled stale air. At least Arelius had kept the place well stocked, for several crates were lined up against the wall, and each contained an assortment of supplies from blankets, to clothing, to alcohol.
Some brandy and food would be nice, she decided, rummaging through one of the boxes. Obviously, fresh food was impossible to store in a place like this, but she found some dried jerky and fruit, which would provide a snack. She'd eaten some oatmeal for breakfast, the dried flakes barely made palatable with water, and for lunch she'd found hard crackers and a jar of jelly. There was enough food to keep her full for several days; it simply didn't taste very appealing.
"Damn mages," Portia grumbled to herself. She uncorked the brandy with the tip of a knife, and took a burning sip. She'd never known that Arelius favored such strong brews, and she could almost feel her toes curling in shock at the alcohol's potency. One or two gulps more and she was done, warmth infusing her as she regarded the flow of chaotic energy in her veins, for she could feel it even now, and the alcohol's heat reminded her of what she'd been experiencing for some time. Times like this made her wish that Gilthan was around to answer questions, but she was stuck in this tomb for an indefinite amount of time.
She tested the waters with a small calling, her mind pulling at the chaos sphere until she felt the familiar spark of life running down her neck and spine. She wondered why it didn't destroy her as she let the power flirt with her nerves, sharply cutting off the supply when she realized that the sensation was actually to her liking. There was more to be summoned if she wished it, but there was a barrier between her and the artifact that was only broken when her emotions exploded, and at such moments, the power was beyond her control. Those outbursts made her realize just how ignorant she was—a channeler by accident who had little control over her heavy charge—but she had been probing the magic and was familiar with its qualities by now. Hence why she could immediately tell when another, darker presence encroached on her own.
Mehrunes.
Portia braced herself as she sensed him drawing nearer, the prince keeping his distance but definitely focused on her. Feeling and anticipating his persona was so easy now, and she was sure that hers was as equally apparent to him, which made her curse under her breath. There was no hiding from one another in the spirit—not once he was bent on finding her.
"Portia."
She knew that the voice was inside of her head, but it might as well have been spoken from the dark recesses of the tomb. Channel the power to block him, her mind urged, but she didn't, finding his cautious approach unsettling but not threatening. He was only gradually pulling closer, as if worried that she'd run, but she merely remained fixed on him, feeling resigned as he came so close that she could imagine his breath on her neck.
Portia closed her eyes and leaned her head back against the wall, exposed and vulnerable, but mentally steady. Mehrunes brushed across her, sending a chill down her spine that she'd only recently become acquainted with. What was he doing?
"Not asleep yet, but not running." Breath stirred the hair by her left ear, and Portia's eyes flew open, her throat constricting as she found herself face-to-face with black, bottomless eyes set in red skin. This wasn't supposed to happen. She wasn't supposed to allow herself to be pulled into the realm between realities, but that's where she was, floating in a dimly lit void where she was alone with his man. Her hands brushed against a stone floor, reassuring her that she was physically still in the tomb, even if the room's outlines were blurred into nonexistence. Soon the spirits would leave limbo and solidify in either his location or hers, and it was always his, because his was a more magnetic and powerful force.
"Mehrunes," Portia stated, acknowledging him with tightened vocal cords as he turned away from her and surveyed the void. The tomb was becoming more distinct again, contrasting shades and outlines developing before her eyes, and Portia nearly panicked at the realization. Mehrunes must have sensed the spike in her energy too, for he turned to her with a smile.
"As a prince, people come to see me—not the other way around," he taunted. "But for tonight, I'm doing things a bit differently."
"No," Portia said, moving to her feet, and part of her noticing that Mehrunes still lacked four arms and wore contemporary, mortal clothing.
"No?" he questioned, fangs showing. "Did you think that you were safe from this? Go ahead. Try to banish me." Portia would have, but she knew that it was futile, even with the chaos sphere. Her body was too compliant and drawn to Mehrunes in this moment for emotional imperatives to take over, and he was channeling at a level that he'd never before revealed. It was frightening to sense his true capabilities, and she wondered why she'd never noticed his full potential until this encounter. You're not helpless, she reminded herself, and her face hardened.
"You thought that you could just ward me off," Mehrunes mused. "I admit that I'm surprised by how readily you block me from your mind, but surely you realize that I am capable of much more than you. You play with chaos like a child while I am its master, and even if you've had your small victories, it's only due to my extenuating circumstances."
"You've never come to me before," Portia weakly protested, fists clenched while sweat coated her palms. Had he always been this powerful, and she only now sensed it due to the chaos in her own system?
"I didn't, but I could have if I'd wanted to," Mehrunes corrected. "Woman, did it ever occur to you that by channeling chaos, you've made this possible?" Portia didn't move, her back stiff as she wondered whether or not the prince was being honest or merely mocking her. "You're bending the power to your control bit by bit, and at first, you used it to escape me, but in the end, your decision was foolish. The more you channel, the more you immerse yourself in...this." He motioned between his body and hers, and began walking toward her. "Chaos cannot be tamed in a few weeks, and the artifact will continue to pull you into itself."
"You lie," Portia asserted. "I've slipped through Oblivion's grasp many times."
"But to what end?" he challenged, brushing a finger across her chin, and making Portia pause in wonder at the gentle contact, which was so unlike the prince that she knew. "Once upon a time, you wouldn't have been able to feel that. I warned you from the beginning of what Oblivion can do to a mortal." He spun and viewed the now clearly visible tomb, his back to Portia as she processed everything presented to her. Why would he tell her this? It seemed as if it'd be fortunate for him if she were drawn deeper into his influence, yet he had warned her not to use the sphere. There had to be a reason that he didn't want her to channel the power...
"Why are you only now coming to me?" Portia suddenly challenged. "Is it because this is the first time that I've 'disappeared'—the first that you don't know where I am?" Mehrunes gave up examining the room and turned back to her, Portia boldly holding her own as he glared at her. The tension and aggression between them was familiar to the point where it didn't make her feet itch to run, and for a moment, Portia felt a spark of something that she quickly locked away—something triggered by the embers glowing hotly behind Mehrunes' eyes.
"I've been closer to you than you could possibly imagine," he smugly answered. "And you. You have had the sphere this entire time." Portia firmly set her jaw, refusing to give ground as he smirked. "There's no need to deny it. I've long suspected as much." They stood close together now, the proximity one that Portia rarely allowed, but she was not cowed. In fact, she barely registered their closeness, and so she did not pause to wonder why the situation felt like a mere exercise in toleration.
"Isn't it empowering?" he asked her, his gaze drawing hers, although her eyes kept slipping to wander over his neck with its curling designs. "It's addictive to best someone and then learn to wear that victory instead of focusing on the pain." Portia immediately thought of her scar and her conversation with Cassius, not at all surprised that Mehrunes was expressing similar sentiments. "You were wearing your victory, and proudly at that, but now you're hiding. My respect for you might be sliding."
"Really?" Portia sharply demanded. "You've been hiding this entire time, so tell me what the difference is." Mehrunes' eyes narrowed, and his throat vibrated with a deep rumbling that unfurled from within his chest.
"I'm not hiding," he firmly growled. "It's strategy. There's a difference."
"Call this strategy then too." Mehrunes looked ready to hit her before her threw his head back and laughed, causing Portia to grit her teeth together.
"Look at you," he bellowed, still smirking. "We're almost having an enjoyable conversation, and you haven't even noticed." Portia hesitated, suddenly more uncomfortable than usual in his presence. "You didn't even flinch when I touched you." What? Portia shifted, eyes moving toward the floor where her sword sat. "Ah, my lady, don't look so startled. We both know that this has made you stronger. I've made you stronger, and you like it. I bet you get a kick out of mouthing off to me, just like you're proud of that scarred hip of yours."
"Don't give yourself too much credit," Portia countered, but her muscles tensed, her mind reeling as she considered how much more confident and confrontational she'd become since Mehrunes had begun hounding her. In some ways, maybe he was right, and nothing shook her more than the realization that she really hadn't been trying to dispose of him since he'd appeared in the tomb. It hadn't felt unusual to be talking to him that this. When the hell had that happened? And the attraction that she'd felt when he looked at her like she was somehow elevated above other mortals...
"I've made my point," Mehrunes proudly concluded as he studied her stony expression. "That means that this visit wasn't a total waste." He scoffed as he viewed the tomb, and Portia knew that he had no idea where she was. This dark place could be any basement or crypt, and not necessarily in the Imperial city either. Serves the bastard right. "How about a goodnight kiss, my lady?"
"Hmmm?" Portia had been lost in thought, but now she stared at Mehrunes like he'd gone mad. "You're crazy if you think that I'm going to kiss you." Why the hell would he want a kiss?
"Just one," he purred, right hand lifting to cradle the back of her neck, and before Portia could react, his lips were on hers, demanding and callously forceful as she gasped. How dare this beast of a prince touch her! Portia bit down, her teeth breaking the skin on Mehrunes' lower lip as he inhaled in surprised pain. He muttered what could have been 'bitch', but Portia was too busy being revolted by the coppery liquid invading her mouth to care, and she quickly released him, Mehrunes stepping backward and wiping a hand over his lips to leave a read smear across the knuckles.
"That was...unexpected," he seethed.
"Why would you expect anything else besides rejection?" Portia disbelievingly pressed, but Mehrunes only stared at the blood on his hand, and Portia noted that his blood was much darker than hers—almost black—and it was much more bitter in taste than a human's blood.
"Keep fighting, mortal," he allowed. "Just remember that you are mine." He vanished, and Portia crumbled to the floor while she gulped down brandy to rid the taste of blood from her mouth. He hadn't actually been there, but as she touched a finger to her swollen lips, she found a dark substance marking her skin, and his words would not leave her. "I've made you stronger, and you like it." Did she? Portia shuddered, pulling her blanket tighter as she marveled over the ease of their interaction tonight, for she hadn't registered their candor until Mehrunes had exposed it. The room suddenly felt much colder, and she allowed the candle to die as she held a hand to her head.
