Fate's Games
(A/N: Second up today. Dialogue isn't exact, but I can't find this guy's quotes.)
Beneath the Chitin Helmet
She despised Dark Elves with a passion, she wasn't ashamed to admit. After all, it had been Dark Elves who had taken everything from her; parents, home, freedom… Arriving in Morrowind she'd been appalled, hardly able to stand even looking at them, let alone being surrounded on all sides by them. But the enemies in this land were difficult and incredibly powerful. She blamed the Dark Elves for that. She knew there was no reason to, but she had to blame someone.
It was when she was nearly slaughtered by a lurker that she determined she might need help here. She had rarely been bothered with followers before. The rare ones she took usually ended up dead. She really couldn't care less, simply looting them and walking away. It was often said she was as cold as ice, and truer words had never been spoken. After a while she'd just stopped bothering with companions. Here, though, it seemed she would have no choice. She entered the Retching Netch thinking that perhaps there was at least one mercenary on this blasted island who wasn't a Dark Elf.
She would have walked right by him, except as she was strolling by he said, "Teldryn Sero, the best swordsman in all of Morrowind, at your service." She paused, looking back at the man she'd almost overlooked. He hadn't even glanced up at her. He looked up on feeling her eyes on him and added, "For a price."
She folded her arms coldly. "Really? And how much would that price be?"
He chuckled and she just sensed his impersonal and cold smirk, hidden by his Chitin helmet. "500 should cover my fees. For a time," he answered.
She scoffed, laughing coldly. "For that price you had better be the best," she said. "Surely you won't disappoint?"
"I'm sorry, was I unclear in saying I was the best in Morrowind? Funny, I thought I'd made that perfectly obvious," he replied.
She scowled warningly at him. "To claim to be the best sellsword in Morrowind isn't saying much. The Dark Elves are weak and pathetic, hardly worth the ground they walk upon. Are you one of them?"
"If you want to live, hire me. If you want to die, well, see if I care," he replied, dodging the question.
"I asked you a question," she menacingly warned. He just chuckled darkly and went back to drinking whatever it was he was drinking.
She summed him up wordlessly. He was cold, his voice held a witty, arrogant quality. Yet his tone was level and completely calm. In a way he reminded her of the serpents of the valleys; wily, silver tongued… deadly… Perhaps it would be worth the cost of hiring him? She would soon see. "Tell me more," she purred. He wasn't the only one with a silver tongue.
ES
He smirked coldly to himself. She thought she could charm him. How precious, but unlikely. Of course, pride aside he would give her what she wanted. He did love gold. Enough so that he would have even crawled on his stomach like a reptile if it meant getting a fair price. "I was hired by a legendary warrior. A true Nord. Had tattoos on his face, wore animal skins, a real 'traditional' type. Had an insatiable bloodlust, extremely stubborn; one of the toughest employers I've ever had," he answered. Apparently this stranger disdained Nords as much as she did Dunmer, she realized. She wondered… what race was he beneath that helmet?
"Why did you keep working for him?" she asked.
"
Simple… He paid well. Very well," he replied.
"How did you come to be on Solstheim?" she questioned.
"One day we cleared out a ruined fort near Whiterun. When we got outside we saw a bandit galloping away on horseback. We tracked and chased him for three days, eventually arriving at the largest bandit encampment I'd ever seen. Well, the Nord took one look at me and gave the most menacing grin… At that moment I knew I'd never see him again. No amount of money would be worth that kind of death," he answered. He'd left the Nord to die, and hoped and prayed not one bandit had fallen before they'd finished him off. He'd never liked that one.
"So you have a limit as to how far you'll go," she said, becoming disinterested.
"My lady, we all have a limit," he answered. "And we all have a price. Am I hired or not?" he asked. She pursed her lips. If he was a Dark Elf, she wanted nothing to do with him. But she wasn't getting the feeling she usually got around Dunmer, so she was willing to bet he was something else.
"Very well. You're hired," she said, dropping the sack of coins into his hand.
"Pleasure doing business with you," he declared as he examined the gold then rose, tucking it away. "I'm right behind you."
ES
For days they tracked through Solstheim, and she was now intimately acquainted with his thoughts on every single little thing they came across. To an annoying degree, in fact. But he was powerful unlike anyone she'd ever worked alongside, so she put up with it. During their first battle she'd tried to deduce what he was by the way he fought. Immediately he'd conjured a Flame Atronach followed by flame spells, and she'd thought instantly he was an elf of some kind. She'd almost turned him away, except when he ran out of magicka he drew his sword and fought with it better than anyone she'd ever seen yet. She couldn't deduce who or what he was from his actions and talents, and it bothered her very much.
His every phrase was incredibly cynical, and equally as negative. In Raven Rock: "I've called Raven Rock my home for years… Azura knows why." In the Skaal Village: "How can these Nords stand it up here?" He was the first follower she'd had whose company she actually relatively tolerated, albeit also one of the most outspoken. His negativity matched, if not exceeded, her own.
"Can you say nothing positive?" she wondered one day as they walked together, after he'd taken a crack at a herd of Netches.
"What is there positive to say about this retched island?" he questioned. "Skyrim isn't much better."
"So cynical, Sero," she said to him, but honestly she wasn't bothered. She'd thought she was cynical and cold. Hah! Apparently she'd met her match. "Hush, Teldryn, we're at a Reever encampment."
"You don't need to tell me that," he replied, rolling his eyes. In an instant they had descended upon the hideaway.
ES
They made camp there, that night, after clearing the bodies. They gazed at the fire in comfortable silence. They didn't look at each other. Why bother? They'd seen enough of each other as it was. She remembered, a moment, that she still didn't know what race he was. Strange… She'd forgotten all about that. But when, she wondered, had she forgotten? She had to remind herself a moment that he could very likely be an Elf, and worse yet, a Dunmer. For some reason, though, in this situation, in this state of mind… She hardly thought she would care if he revealed himself right then.
"I grow tired of this island," she murmured. "I've been here far too long, surrounded by those, ugh, Dunmer."
"I didn't think you cared anymore, you've become so accustomed to being around them," he remarked, muscles tensing slightly. He sincerely hoped she wasn't going to start babbling on about her hatred of the Dark Elves, as she had the first week or two of their 'partnership.'
"What gave you that impression?" she questioned.
"Because now you can look them in the eyes," he answered.
"My stomach still becomes nauseous at their sight," she stated.
"How can you despise what you don't even know?" he hissed. She was silent, trying to think of an answer. She couldn't. At least, not one that was any good.
She looked down into the fire again, absently braiding her hair and watching the flames crackle. Her skin was still tingling at the sensation of his tone changing to one so serpentine. "I can't answer that," she finally said.
He was silent, summing her up. Soon he rose and went behind her and to the satchel they carried supplies in. She didn't turn. He looked up at her, though, watching. After a moment he moved behind her, placed his hands on her shoulders gently, and said in a whisper, "Because you don't have one…" Again she felt her body shiver as she slowly looked up. Unsure whether to be alarmed, infuriated, or flustered at his nearness. He pulled away and she almost regretted that there was no longer contact. "Anytime you want to head to Skyrim I'm right with you. I've spent enough time on Solstheim to last a lifetime," he remarked, moving to his spot once more. She looked up at him. He met her eyes steadily. Lady, why must you hate my people so? By hating them, you have hated me. But hatred is no longer what I feel towards you.
ES
She opened her eyes, feeling the presence of his body next to hers. It was nothing unusual. They'd slept near to each other for the sake of warmth before. This time, though, she couldn't help but tense her muscles nervously. His arm was wrapped around her. His breathing was steady and even. She bit her lower lip and carefully rolled around to face him. She tried to peer beyond the helmet to see what lay beneath, but she couldn't. She wanted to know, though. She wondered… Would he notice if she took his helmet from him?
Her fingers went to it. She grasped the rim, ready to remove it, but suddenly his hand was clasped upon her wrist. Not painfully, mind you, but gently. It didn't stop her from blanching, or fear from coming to her eyes. "Do you really want to know?" he evenly asked.
She gazed at him, heart dropping. Do you really want to know…? "Part of me already knows," she whispered.
He turned his head curiously. "And will you send me away?" he asked. She said nothing. Soon she drew away her hand from his helmet. Tears in her eyes she rolled over and tried to sleep once more. After all, if she didn't know, it didn't make it real. Oh if only that were so.
ES
She hadn't sent him away. That was the first thing he noticed. He also knew, though, that part of her still said he wasn't what she so despised. He watched her collect her things. Soon she rose and went up to him. "Are you ready?" she questioned.
"As I'll ever be," he dryly replied in his arrogant and disdainful tone.
"Good. Because you'll need to be at your best," she said.
He had wondered what she meant, until he noticed her heading towards a peculiar stone. He stiffened. She'd told him what lurked inside of them. She shouted at it and almost immediately two creatures began to materialize, huge and hideous! "That just isn't natural," he remarked, mouth agape.
"Welcome to Oblivion," she replied. Teldryn dropped into a fighting pose with her, and instantly they pounced at the things, ripping into them viciously.
ES
She was down, he saw, and struggling to recover. She cried out in pain as one of the two Lurkers whipped her with a tentacle and tried to pull her to it. Teldryn cut the tentacle off with one swing. He was fighting with all he had in order to protect her as she tried to crawl away from the two enemies in order to recover. His sword arm was tired, so he conjured another Flame Atronach and let loose with fire spells and a flame cloak. "Teldryn!" she heard her scream
Quickly he turned. He hardly had time to gasp before the second Lurker had spat whatever it was they spat at him. He cried out in pain, trying to pry off the substance that was draining his life force. He managed to throw it. She was staggering up. He charged right up to the duo of Lurker's, murder in his eyes. Viciously he attacked them with all he had, but they had him at their mercy.
In all honesty he'd known it would be a suicide. He knew his limits, and this was far beyond what he was capable of handling alone. She was screaming his name, racing towards him with weapon drawn as a lurker struck him to the ground. He looked up at her, gentleness in his eyes… and love… A pity she would never see it burning in them. One of the Lurkers wrapped a tentacle tightly around his neck and began to strangle him. The other spewed at him and he screamed in pain at the burning sensation.
"No!" he heard her shriek. Lady, this time you're too late. He felt himself collapsing, begging silently to be able to hear and see her one last time. How, he wondered, had he come to fall in love with she who persecuted his kind so; she whose hatred would finish him sooner than any weapon could hope to?
ES
The Lurker's were dead, and she was scrambling towards the still body of the mercenary. She reached it and immediately took his hands, screaming, "Teldryn! Teldryn!"
He heard her voice echoing in his mind. Desperately he fought to reach it, though just ahead lay an Oblivion gate, and Azura beckoning for him to come to her realm. He certainly wouldn't die without seeing her though… just one last time. She felt him move, and though she couldn't see them she knew his eyes were flickering open. He was silent, breathing shallow, and he just looked at her… just looked. After a time he murmured, "Azura calls to me…"
She shook her head in denial. "You aren't to go to her. You will stay here with me. You will fight again at my side. With gold I bought you. You belong to me, not to her."
"Dragonborn, I would fight with all my soul to return to you, but this is only a mercy. I'm already dead," he answered.
"No!" she screamed sharply. She wouldn't accept that. Her hand gently went to his helmet.
"Leave it," he ordered.
"Why?" she asked.
"Because the last image I want of you is the one I see now, eyes so filled with love and longing and care… Not one of disgust and hatred. Your misery and your tears are more kind to me than your hate," he answered.
"You will see only love in my eyes. No matter what you are, you will see love," she replied.
"So sure of that, are you?" he answered. "Please, don't test it now."
"You will see love, no matter what you are," she repeated. She slowly began to remove the helmet. Be he Argonian, Khaajit… or Elf… it didn't even matter to her anymore what race he was, how he looked. She loved him. She loved him…
ES
She removed the helmet, letting it rest upon the ground. Slowly she opened her eyes, and for the first time she gazed upon his face, and into his own. His irises were as red as blood, flaming like a thousand stars; and his appearance… she had rarely seen anything more beautiful than him… and he was a Dark Elf. He was a Dunmer, skin gray and hair black. The war paint he wore looked as if Dibella herself had dyed it there. The battle scars did nothing to mask his beauty. She sobbed and cupped his cheek gently.
"See… There is only love," she whispered to him, eyes filled with pain and misery. "I beg you, Dunmer, don't leave me."
He turned his head softly. Weakly he reached up, caressing her cheek. She covered his hand with hers. "You have loved that which you despise, as he has loved you," he said, feeling Azura drawing him back towards her realm.
The Dragonborn suddenly bent and took his lips softly. Oh immortals, she hadn't begun to even imagine a Dark Elf could taste as sweet as he did, his lips like honey. "Don't leave me," she pled yet again, pulling away. But he was still, eyes closed eternally, and never before had such pain ripped through her heart as in that moment. Her scream of misery echoed through the night.