Warning! Some brief, but graphic depictions of violence in this chapter.
Therion's eyes snapped open.
Throwing back his head, he gasped in a great, long breath, chest heaving, as though he were a drowning man surfacing for air. Violent shivers ran through his body, numb and cold as ice. Limply, his head fell forward, causing his gold hair to fall across his blurred vision of the dimly lit, stonework floor.
Staring wretchedly down at the dimply lit, stonework floor, he saw a dark puddle dripping beside his boot. Squinting down at himself, he found the left half of his chest bleeding.
Miserably exhausted and beyond caring, he sighed, letting his eyes slide half shut, shaking and drawing in labored breaths.
He flinched as a gold hand touched his chest, applying pressure to his stab wound.
Brilliant rays of light swirled around their fingers, flowing into his body, the spell bright as the sun.
Gradually, his shivering subsided, the magic breathing life and warmth back into his disturbingly cold body.
"Good to have you back among the living," a familiar voice said. Chuckling they added, "I'm afraid my agent was over zealous. Chest wounds are all but impossible to heal. But then, we've done this once already, haven't we, Thrynn?"
The Dragonborn tensed, a chill running up his spine.
"Thrynn! Can you hear me?!"
He blinked, eyes cracking open to sunlight. No, not the sun, he realized. Healing light. So bright, it made his eyes ache.
"Radac…?" he groaned, looking up at the Ascendant's sharp, gold eyes, a stark contrast as ever to his black hair and red robes. "The Beautiful!" he shouted, suddenly coming to and sitting up. The extremists were getting away.
Sharp pain exploded in his chest.
"The others are pursuing them," Radac assured him, applying pressure to his chest wound. "This needs attention."
"How did they get into the Crystal Palace," he muttered, as Radac helped him up. Thrynn sheathed the sword lying beside him, hesitating as Radac tried to support his weight. "Your robes-" he began, swaying unsteadily as he looked down at his armor, slick with blood.
"Are already red," Radac interrupted with a frown, placing Thrynn's arm around his neck. "I'm much more concerned for you."
Thrynn looked out through the decimated wall of the library at the city below as he walked along with Radac, clutching his chest. Within, he gazed sadly over the section of burnt books, still smoldering. The dead bodies of The Beautiful lying beside them brought him no satisfaction for the lost knowledge.
"It could have been a great deal worse, all things considered," Radac said, trying to console him. "They had daedric relics of some sort, allowing them to teleport at will - never staying still for more than a moment. That you killed so many of them…" he made a sound of deep approval. "It was quite a sight."
Thrynn managed to open the door to Radac's chamber for him.
"Skill with a blade is prerequisite for my post," he said humbly. Sighing, he added, "As is knowing these sorts of things in advance."
Radac set him down in a chair.
"Not even you could have known they would do this," he said, rummaging through elegantly carved shelves containing numerous crystal bottles. "Don't hold yourself accountable; I do not."
Thrynn looked down at his hands, his frustration not deterred in the slightest.
"I suppose if a mer is going to be mortally wounded," Thrynn said, trying to muster a cheerful smile, "there's nowhere better than in front of Nirn's most powerful restoration mage."
"I would rather be remembered for my alchemy," Radac said disdainfully, handing him a potion. "I was born a powerful mage. My alchemy took countless centuries of study and application to hone."
Thrynn scoffed as he drank.
"You don't look over three centuries, at most."
It was not idle flattery; Radac looked young and handsome despite his age, which was presumably advanced. No one was exactly certain how long he had been the leader of the Thalmor for, but it had been since before Ondolemar had been born at least; and he was approaching his four hundredth year.
"Looks can be deceiving," Radac said with a dark smile. "Restoration magic has many benefits."
Glancing toward the door, he waved a hand in its direction, shutting it with telekinesis before he continued.
"Namely…" he said in a hushed voice. "Immortality."
Thrynn shivered as Radac reached his hand out once more. Had he shut the door for the privacy of their conversation or did he have something else in mind? To his relief, Radac resumed healing his aching chest.
"Immortality," Thrynn replied thoughtfully. "In that case, you look very good for your age," he smirked, looking him over. "Whatever it is."
A frown quickly formed on his lips.
Why was he flirting with the Ascendant?
Radac was certainly in one of his rare moments.
At times like these, Thrynn could almost forget the disgusting things he knew about the mer. That someone so devoted to butchering others, persecuting his people, and dragging the honor of their race and country through the mud, could have an interesting - attractive even - personality… it disturbed him almost as much as the rest.
Thrynn's highest priority was eradicating the Thalmor, inside out. Ondolemar was working his way up through their structure of Justicars after some urging, while he and the other members of the Laloria Malatar secured positions throughout the rest of the country to make way for revolt; a few more years and they should overthrow the Thalmor completely.
The group of spies had returned from the Great War to find the Thalmor seeped into the country like a rot, taking advantage of their beloved homeland laying in shambles from war. The Aldmeri Dominion was little more than a puppet these days, and Alinor was reduced to a husk of its former grandeur. Mer everywhere were living in fear, persecution, or willful ignorance.
"It's lonely," Radac said, interrupting his thoughts. "Immortality. It is obviously a gift, but it can also be maddening," he added with a weary sigh, finishing the healing spell, but remaining enticingly close. "Once, in a great while, I find someone who makes the passing of years more pleasant."
Thrynn looked at him with conflicted feelings, wanting to comfort him. The Ascendant's dark, intelligent eyes made his stomach twist.
Uncertainty gnawed at him.
Focusing, he thought of the Nord prisoner in the dungeon. A Talos worshipper, and Radac's regular source of entertainment. He spent many evenings torturing and healing the poor man.
Despite the gruesome image, Thrynn felt the urge to stand up and draw Radac close.
Quick as lightning, deliberately giving himself no time to think, Thrynn stabbed the Ascendant in the chest and slit his throat, bolting for the door.
A shout escaped his throat as he was slammed off of his feet and flattened against the floor by an invisible force. Air knocked out of his lungs, he gasped for air, chest pinned beneath an unseen barrier.
Radac gingerly touched the skin of his throat.
Thrynn watched the wound close itself, blood drawing back into his skin, leaving no trace.
Radac grinned wickedly down at Thrynn, struggling beneath his ward on the floor.
"That's why I like you - how many mer would follow their gut and stab their Ascendant?" he said approvingly. "You couldn't have known The Beautiful were going to attack. I gave them the means. No, you're far too clever to drink a potion from me - even a wine glass - under normal circumstances. So cautious," he smirked, kneeling down and caressing his cheek.
Thrynn glared murderously up at him as he leaned closer.
"I would have you as my ally," he said, tracing a line along his face as he lifted his chin, forcing him to meet his gaze. "But I'd rather you as a lover. A trusted confidant. There's so much work a clever mer like you can accomplish for me."
Thrynn, unable to speak beneath his magic, replied by deftly removing a dagger from his sleeve with one hand and quickly burying it deep within Radac's closest eye.
Surprised, the Ascendant's ward faltered momentarily.
Thrynn, pressing his advantage, leapt to his feet, pulling his sword free in one fluid motion. Carving through Radac's chest in quick thrusts, he removed his still beating heart.
What he heard filled him with cold dread; the sound of Radac's amused laughter. In desperation, he separated the Ascendant's head from his body in one swift move. The mer's heart and decapitated head dissolved into blood before reforming wholly once more on Radac's body, perfect and unmarred.
Thrynn involuntarily dropped his sword as he was crushed beneath another ward spell, this time forcefully trapping him against the wall.
"I know you don't love me," Radac said affectionately, walking over to him. He gently ran a thumb across Thrynn's lips, cupping the back of his neck. The mer jerked his head away. Smirking, Radac patiently stood back. "Not yet, at least. Give my potion time to do its work. Don't worry," he added with a predatory grin. "I won't do anything you don't ask me to."
"I've missed you, Thrynn," Radac said fondly. "You were the assassin's assassin. Literally. The way you took care of all those little problems. Discrete. Efficient. And talented in so many other ways," he added with an evil grin.
The Dragonborn slowly raised his head, staring up with cold, calculating eyes at Radac.
"I should introduce you both. This is my Spymaster, Verandis. Your replacement," he said, sweeping a hand toward a smirking mer, hovering behind Radac like a shadow. "Not that anyone could replace you, Thrynn," he added affectionately, voice tinged with nostalgia, to Verandis' clear displeasure. "Come, say something," he urged with eager curiosity. "It's been years."
Therion's amber eyes flickered momentarily to the snidely glaring Verandis and then back to Radac.
"You're right," the Dragonborn said, a slow, cocky smile spreading across his face. "He's no replacement for me."
Therion sliced the rest of his way through his ropes, unleashing the full force of his thu'um with a thunderous FUS RO DAH!, while throwing his hidden obsidian dagger between Verandis' eyes. Several Thalmor soldiers at the edge of the raised platform screamed as his voice crashed into them, knocking them to their deaths. The remaining mer charged forward with wide eyes, drawing their weapons.
Therion lunged, grabbing hold of the staggered Radac, using his ropes to bind the mer's hands from spell casting.
Sensing movement over his shoulder, he spun, using the Ascendant as a shield.
Elenwen's invisibility dropped as she struck forward with a familiar glowing, black daedric weapon. Shock colored her face as she stabbed the wrong mer.
Before she could retreat back and withdraw her weapon, Therion threw Radac aside. The Ascendant lay still, apparently rendered unconscious by the blade. Ducking low to avoid her hastily cast fire spell, Therion grasped her outstretched arm.
Circling around, he was poised to snap her neck when something struck him, stopping him short with one hand at her shoulder and another on her head.
A familiar roar of air greeted his ears, as something deep within him responded to the pull of magical forces. It was, at first, exactly like slaying a dragon.
Except something was wrong.
The wind had always been white, hadn't it…? This wind was blue.
And then he felt a staggering pull, wrenching him apart.
Radac opened his eyes, looking up at the shrouded face of the Thalmor Archmage as the wizard slid the black dagger from his shoulder. He sat up as the mer diligently sliced apart the ropes binding his wrists. Nodding his thanks, he rose easily to his feet, immortal body unphased by the deathlike embrace of the daedric enchantment.
Looking around the pavilion, he took stock of what he had missed while unconscious. At the middle of the platform was a sea of chaos, doubtless at the center of which was the Dragonborn. In his absence, the mages had evoked the Dwemer artifact, Silgahrot. The blue etherium crystal shone brightly, hovering between five Thalmor mages.
He barely caught sight of the Dragonborn in the midst of the soldiers, wearing nothing more than a pair of black trousers. His armor had apparently been stripped off and thrown away as a precaution against more hidden, obsidian weapons.
Radac spared an apathetic glance at his late Spymaster.
Verandis had removed numerous iron daggers from their prisoner, dragging a lodestone thoroughly across his armor. Completely missing the more carefully hidden non-metallic, volcanic glass.
The Dragonborn had been right.
Verandis was - or had been - a poor Spymaster comparatively.
"How many dragons has he killed?" one of the mages asked incredulously, staring at Therion. Numerous orbs of light shone beneath the Dragonborn's skin, made pale and ethereal beneath the blue glow of the Dwemer artifact.
Radac stared in fascination, for what felt like the first time in centuries.
Therion's entire body brimmed with the radiance of countless, luminous souls contained within him, like constellations of stars - all impossibly trapped within one, mortal vessel.
Radac shook his head, composing himself as he looked away from the dazzling sight.
Therion struggled, restrained against the central stone pillar by every soldier present, the gold armored mer holding him fast as the mages siphoned his essence into Silgahrot. Blue wind roared from him to the crystal, whirling with tremendous speed.
In the midst of the pandemonium, Radac saw between the windswept mages' robes and shuffling soldiers in elven armor, catching a clear sight of Therion for the first time.
One of the soldiers had a gauntleted hand mercilessly clamped over his mouth, wary of the Dragonborn's voice.
Though he could not cry out, Therion's agony was evident. Writhing, he twisted violently in their grasp, face contorted with pain.
Radac narrowed his eyes, gold magicka flaring to life and encircling his fingertips. Squeezing his hand into a tight fist, an aura of gold light burst forth, the expanding ring knocking everyone to the ground in its path.
Silgahrot fell on the stones, landing with an ominous knell, the blue crystal rolling to a stop beside Therion. Three globes of light drifted within the artifact, as a fourth pulsed, still forming. Without the mages fueling it, Silgahrot siphoned its power more slowly, the blue wind settling down to a soft breeze. Therion lay still beside it, body jerking at odd intervals under its drain.
Radac knelt down, looking with concern at his pallid, bare skin, covered in a sheen of sweat.
"So," Therion said listlessly. "This is what you wanted me for. My dragon souls."
Radac pressed his lips together in a tight line.
"I scarcely believed that the 'Dragonborn' was anything but Nord nonsense. Let alone that it would be you," he said, still disbelieving. With a small smile he added, "You know, some even think you're Tiber Septim, reincarnated."
Therion chuckled wearily despite himself.
"So I've heard."
Radac looked down at him, taking in the deep scars of his chest for the first time.
"Head Justicar Ondolemar's interrogation," he said, tracing the jagged lines, his eyes clouded.
"A diligent mer, that one," Therion said, gritting his teeth against the pain of the crystal. "Takes his work a bit too seriously, if you ask me. He seemed to find me 'insufferable', though I quite liked him. Really, he deserves a promotion, Radac. Tell him it's from me. I would pay to see the look on his face."
Abruptly his muscles tightened and he clenched his teeth, stricken by a violent wave of pain. Closing his eyes, he shook in a frightening display.
"I derive no pleasure from this, Thrynn," Radac said softly, channeling healing magic across his temples with each hand.
"That makes two of us," Therion replied as soon as he caught his breath.
Radac shook his head.
"I've missed your wit."
"Then renounce my exile," Therion murmured, trying to adjust between the painful crystal and the numbing magic.
Radac snorted lightly.
"You're far too dangerous."
Therion cracked open his amber eyes to regard him.
"Me?" he asked sounding wounded and surprised. "I'm harmless. What have I ever done?"
Radac tried to not find him amusing.
"Half of my soldiers just fell to their deaths from the sole use of your voice, Thrynn."
"I've always thought these ruins needed guardrails. Very unsafe - perhaps that's why the Dwemer disappeared," he said, wearily closing his eyes once more.
"You murdered my Spymaster. Despite being tied to a column," Radac pointed out.
Therion grinned.
"That was rather impressive of me, wasn't it?"
"Or," Radac continued brusquely, "That business back in Alinor. When you broke free of my potion and incited a riot which nearly lead to a revolution."
"Nearly, but not quite. Not my best revolution, it's been a constant source of disappointment," Therion said with a sigh. "I really expected more from myself. But alas, the Thalmor's influence was too hard for one lone mer to break."
"Lone mer indeed," Radac said disdainfully. "I never found out who helped you; especially who forced you into drinking an antidote to my potion."
"Thank Talos for small favors," Therion replied cheekily, giving him a galling smile.
Radac ignored his gibe, not rising to the taunt.
"Give me a name and I'll renounce your exile."
Therion made a small scoffing sound.
"Even if I believed you - no."
Radac chuckled.
"Loyal to the death. I've missed that as well." For a moment his gold eyes clouded with nostalgia. "You were loyal to me once."
"I was never loyal to you, Radac," Therion corrected. Inwardly, he kept searching for his thu'um, but the crystal separated it from his voice, suppressing his ability to shout.
"Thrynn..." Radac began thoughtfully. With a sigh, he changed topics. "You've changed your name, I'm told. I don't care for it."
"Good," Therion replied tersely with satisfaction.
"And you became the folk hero of the Nord race since I saw you last as well. How did you, an Altmer of all things, come to be this 'Dragonborn'?" he asked curiously.
Therion tilted his head in a gesture of mock thoughtfulness, and Radac knew at once he would loath his reply.
"Talos works in mysterious ways."
Exhaling sharply, Radac gave him severe look.
"I'm beginning to remember why I exiled you."
"No," Therion said, cracking his eyes open. "If I had the strength to break your nose and remove every one of your organs in random order, then you would remember why you banished me. My mocking you enjoy, because everyone fears you. No one else stands up to you. Well… no one else with my wit, charm, and a full-scale assault on the capital city," he added.
"Your humility… that's not something I've missed, if you were curious."
"Please," Therion said. "That was me being humble. Go on. Revoke my exile. We could chat every occasion I try to kill you. How dangerous can I be? You're immortal."
"How well you know it," Radac said, giving him an irksome look. "No one's ever put it to the test quite like you…"
Therion chuckled weakly.
"At least I can correct anyone who claims you have no heart," Therion said. "Physically, at least."
Radac reached over, picking up the crystal artifact. Turning it in his hand, he thoughtfully inspected its soft, blue light; the same radiance reflected beneath Therion's skin, mirroring its ebbs and flows, brighter the closer it came to his body.
"The Nords call it Silgahrot. Do you know what that means?" he asked, curiously pressing the crystal against Therion's chest. "Of course you do, you speak Dragon."
Therion groaned, the pull of the crystal made worse by proximity.
"Soul stealer," he muttered.
Radac nodded.
"Legend tells of a jealous jarl. Outraged when a Dragonborn appeared in Skyrim, not of the Nord race. A familiar tale, in that regard; though this one was Khajiit. The story goes that the treacherous jarl met with the Dwemer, forging an alliance. Together they created a weapon - a crystal capable of trapping dragon souls as effectively as a Dragonborn. But more to the point... Capable of taking their ability - their shout - away. The jarl stole their soul, and with it, their voice. With the Dragonborn's powerful 'thu'um' he subdued the dragon, Numinex. Keeping it prisoner in his keep, thereupon called 'Dragonsreach', until the beast went mad."
"Well," Therion said dryly. "I feel better about helping the Bard's College bring back those weekly effigy burnings of Olaf One-Eye now. The lute lessons weren't a complete waste afterall."
"I could steal your voice," Radac said thoughtfully, ignoring him. "However, I have a recent opening for a new Spymaster. You could accept that the Thalmor are good for our society and forget crusading for the lesser races. Return to Alinor with me. Free from exile," he added, watching Therion's expression become alert before turning swiftly skeptical. "You were happy with me, once," Radac added, reaching out to touch his face.
"I was as happy as I was loyal," Therion replied, avoiding his hand. "You get drunk on power, Radac. Nasty habit."
"Ah, yes. And remind me again how many organizations and plots you are the very center of?" Radac asked knowingly.
"That's different. Being the center of plots is my hobby. Like painting. Or learning the language of a race of flying, fire-breathing lizards brought back from the dead by the harbinger of the apocalypse. Of the three, I'm significantly better at one than the others. And it's not painting."
Radac stared at him in open curiosity.
"What in Oblivion have you been doing in this godsforsaken country?"
"To be honest?' he asked, his bare chest shivering. "Freezing to death, mostly. You just had to choose Skyrim to start your scheme, didn't you? You couldn't have chosen a warmer climate like Hammerfell or Elsweyr?"
"You agreed at the time - Skyrim is the backbone of the Empire. The Markarth Incident was absolutely inspired, thank you for that," he said, smirking at Therion's glare of loathing. "And you haven't given my proposal a yes or a no."
"What, returning to Alinor? With you?" Therion laughed, not taking him seriously. "You just said I was too dangerous. Now you want to hire me back with a raise?"
"I didn't say there wasn't a price," Radac replied, quirking an eyebrow. "Seeing you again… I didn't realize how lonely life would be, with you in exile. I am alone. I spent entire months without speaking, just to see what would happen," he said with a sigh. "As you said, everyone fears me. This, is probably the only direct conversation I've had in years," he finished, glancing at the Thalmor soldiers standing out of earshot, the squad flinching under his gaze.
Therion gave him a frigid look.
"If you're waiting for me to be sympathetic, you have me confused for that lobotomized version of myself you kept enslaved by alchemy for five hellish years. You're a genocidal lunatic, Radac. You should suffer for your crimes, but you're immune to pain. You deserve to die, but you're immortal. If you're looking to me of all people for comfort, know that I take great joy in your misery," Therion replied fervently.
After a long pause, Radac nodded.
"Ah, but it's not a question of how much you hate me, but how badly you miss Alinor. How much you want to see home, just one last time. How many times has the thought crossed your mind?"
He saw Therion's jaw tick.
"You told me once Alinor was the one thing you truly loved. That you would do anything for our country. How much you must have hated me, when I exiled you," he said with a sad laugh. "But the only alternative was a death sentence and that, was not an option. I could never kill you, Thrynn."
"Really? You're doing a great job of it at the moment," he replied nodding toward Silgahrot. "Slow and painful."
"I won't take your soul. But I need your dragon souls. You won't agree with the method, but you're going to ensure the future of our race."
Therion said nothing, glaring intently.
"Like it or not, the Nords will soon be a memory. The question is, how do you want to spend the rest of your life, once they're gone? I'll destroy the rest of the races of men in good order - I have nothing but time on my side, as you well know. You could be there, helping me shape our peoples' destiny. Or you could spend the rest of your life alone, never again to see the crystal spires of your home. Watching your friends age and die. I don't recommend it - it takes a heavy toll."
Therion glanced at Silgahrot, helplessly watching as a fifth orb began taking form within the crystal.
"I can guess what your price is," Therion said with an angry with a sigh of resignation, amber eyes burning with hatred. "And my answer is no, not that you care."
He watched a slow, sinister smile spread across Radac's face with disgust.
"Oh Thrynn, how I have missed you," he chuckled. "You know me so well."