Fate's Games

(A/N: Third up today. There is a lot of hate for this guy, mainly because his quest costs so much money; a greedy way to look at it in my opinion, but that's just me. However, as a follower this guy is amazingly skilled. I mean Cicero I always found to be the best follower, but after having this guy follow me around for a bit I was beginning to wonder. I still stick by Cicero, but he lacks follower perks, which apparently only came about in the Dragonborn DLC. Besides, this guy's voice I very much liked, and his backstory intrigued me. I felt pity for him. In this oneshot I try to encompass both the hatred most people feel for him as well as my own views on the matter within the heroine.)

Costly Mercy

She watched quietly as the dark elf dug steadily without stopping. She found it a welcome relief, to see an honest hardworking man. Oh if only she'd known the falsity of that statement back then. Everything could have been avoided, all the pain and the battles, all the anger and all the desire for retribution. She could have ended it swiftly with one well-placed arrow but oh no, not her. The one time she decided to do something for a random stranger she met on the road was the one time it was the wrong stranger to help…

ES

Letter 1:

I hope this letter finds you quickly, Rae-Lee. We've completed the initial excavation, but have run into some unexpected difficulties. Come as soon as you can.

-Your Partner, Ralis

It was a well-written letter. She was pleasantly surprised at the tone of it. That first letter was close, was intimate; not romantic intimacy, not by any means—though the courier had smirked teasingly at her, semi-bugging her and hinting at a relationship between them—but intimate like a partnership should be. It was polite, it was cordial, it was a welcome change. He'd written her because she had agreed help him in the excavation of an ancient barrow, to partner with him. Why on Nirn he'd agreed to dig it up for his employer was beyond her. She hadn't had very good experiences with barrows in the past. He'd seemed sincere, though, and his willingness to work hard for what he wanted had impressed her. He handled the workers and laborers—after all he knew the ins and outs of archaeology and mining—she handled getting the money they would need. He was getting in over his head; she had known that from the start. Still she'd invested; still she'd joined him in this fateful endeavour. If only she had known how deeply she'd come to regret it.

ES

Letter 2:

I don't want you to panic, but I need to see you at the barrow. Quickly.

-Ralis

The letter concerned her. The tone was urgent yet also calming. It seemed to assure her that things were under control, for the time, but that she should probably return soon. It bugged her, though. In his first letter he'd used her name, called her partner, had closed well. This one lacked those little intimate touches that she'd so admired. It set off warning bells, but like a fool she ignored them. She heard his story, she went into the barrow and took care of the draugr, she gave him his money and ensured everything was all right, then she'd left. Still part of her warned her something was very wrong. She'd read his journals. The tone of them concerned her greatly. Voices? What did that mean, and who was this 'he' Ralis kept referring to? It was almost as if something were trying to take over his mind…

ES

Letter 3:

I hope you're not angry, but I may need some more resources. Come around when you have time.

She frowned at this. Again? If she didn't know better she would say he was scamming her, but she'd checked the prices of everything. For the cost of miners, mercenaries, equipment, and supplies, he was asking for surprisingly little. He must be quite the savy buyer to get all of that for so cheap, though the amount of money this was costing wasn't what most would call cheap. Again she returned, again she listened to his story, again she gave him money, eleven thousand in total by now, and ensured things were taken care of, again she left. The letter, though, bugged her. It had lost much of the intimacy it had once had. That disappointed her very much, for some reason, and again his journals. She pursed her lips tightly. Something was wrong. Something was wrong with him and with this whole thing. Who was Ahzidal, again? Part of her said she didn't want to know, part of her told her to back out of this once and for all, but she was too far along now. She couldn't back away. Besides, she wanted an answer to this mystery. It didn't sit well with her.

ES

Letter 4:

You're needed.

It hurt her, she noted, to see not even the slightest hint of intimacy or politeness in his words, anymore. It angered her as well. What would he ask for this time? Ten-thousand? She would be sure to give him a piece of her mind when she got there. She was through with this nonsense. This time she would stay at the dig and defend the workers herself. She was Dragonborn. She had nothing to fear from a group of Draugr Scourges and Deathlords and… Hmm, okay, that sounded like a lie to her own ears, but still! She was set in her decision. This time she would do the protecting. They would do better, perhaps, if she was there and stayed with her partner close at hand. Besides, the poor courier had adamantly refused to deliver another message for Ralis. When she found that he was nowhere in sight, that the miners and mercenaries were gone, when she read his last journal… that was it. Her blood was chilled and fury and outrage overtook her. This was his plan the whole time? When she found him he would not leave that barrow alive! Still, she couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong as she charged down there. His journals had spoken of a force or something that seemed to be driving him onward, like something taking over his mind. If that were so, she would have to be extra careful. The last thing she needed was to be hypnotized as he had been, if he had been. Quickly she dressed in Ahzidal's armor and started down.

ES

She walked through the barrow, eyes wide in horror and disbelief. "He… he had done all of this? These deaths, the mercenaries and miners both… It had been him, because hardly a draugr stood in her way, definitely not enough to overpower an elite squad of mercenaries. That begged the question, though, of how he had managed to do it when even Deathlords couldn't. As she drew nearer her destination she became more on edge, more angry, more scared. Everything was wrong. Ahzidal, the draugr, Ralis himself, what was there left that she could predict anymore? Ralis would die. She'd made up her mind. Ralis would die slowly and painfully. She disliked being stabbed in the back. It had happened enough times as it was. She had thought that finally she had found someone she could rely on, could trust, and he turned and betrayed her in a way worse than anyone else had to date. For that he would pay with his life. She was sick of being turned on. Never again would she help a random stranger in need. She was fine on her own.

She reached a chamber. Something was happening. It worried her. Slowly she approached, sneaking her way towards it. She peered inside and gasped, paling. There he stood in the middle of a circle. He was chanting something, calling up some sort of being from gods knew where! "Master, arise! Ahzidal, awaken!" he called out.

No! She had to stop him! She rose and ran towards him. "Ralis!" she yelled furiously, great sword at the ready. All at once there was an explosion. She screamed, being thrown back. He was tossed to the side like a ragdoll and hit the wall with a sickening crack. Good. Hopefully he was dead. She turned to see what had approached and her eyes widened in fear. A dragon priest! "By the divines," she breathed.

The thing screamed angrily and all at once draugr Deathlords and Scourges and Overlords were breaking out of coffins all around! All of a sudden she wasn't hoping that Ralis was dead. All of a sudden she was wishing and praying he would wake up and join her, because this… This was too much! One against this many draugr? The odds, they were impossible! She had a limited amount of healing potions, and though improving she certainly wasn't adept at swordplay. She wouldn't stand a chance! She had to try, though. It was fight or die. Of course it may very well be die either way.

ES

She charged ahead with a battlecry and began tearing into the Dragonpriest. Suddenly, though, Ahzidal called up a flamecloak. He began firing fireballs at her, and she couldn't even hope to stand! She screamed in anguish as the burning tore into her along with the swords of the Draugr's. She wanted to screech for help, but she knew none would come. She had been a fool! She should have run!

All at once, though, the Dragr were being forced away from her and cut down in no more than one hit, sometimes two or three! She gaped in shock, mouth wide open. Ralis?! By the nine, what weapons was he wielding? What potions was he utilizing? To be able to cut down Overlords and Deathlords in one hit or two? She wouldn't bother thinking on it now, though. She had Ahzidal to focus on. She wished Ralis would take him and not her, but it appeared that wasn't going to happen. She ran towards the creature and began cutting him down desperately. He was so powerful, though, and his powers regenerated so quickly! She was dealing damage, but not even half as much as he was dealing her.

All at once Ralis shot onto the scene and began aiding her, having taken out the draugr. She scowled viciously at him. She only prayed he saw it so that he would know that this time… this time he wasn't going to escape. Whether he helped her or not, he was a dead man. Why had he helped her, she wondered? Perhaps because on awakening from his unconscious state he'd quickly realized that if she fell, he would be next. Together they fought, and quickly enough Ahzidal fell, dissolving into a pile of ash in the middle of the room, the very spot from which he'd risen.

ES

The two of them, panting, slowly looked up at one another. His eyes were haunted, horrified, hers were icy and murderous. "Oh, gods… What happened? What have I done?" he asked.

"What's going on here?" she asked. She'd meant it to sound vicious and menacing, but it was more fearful than anything. Adrenaline was still coursing through her veins, and she was hardly able to stay still. Luckily she'd never been prone to hysterics, or gods would she be hysterical now.

"I… I don't remember. Ever since I got here… to Kolbjorn… I've heard whispers. Voices. Thoughts. Imaginings. They've only gotten louder since I've stayed. Pounding, driving. A couple of times I blacked out. It was… It was just before the draugr woke up," he answered, and slowly his eyes widened and lit up in a terrifying and blood-chilling realization.

"Did you… kill the miners?" she asked, and again, she'd wanted it to sound vicious and murderous and angry… But it came out as barely a whisper, a disbelieving whisper.

"I don't know," he replied, tone strained and helpless. "I… maybe? It's what he wanted. He just needed their energy. I don't know! I hope I didn't. But… maybe I…" It was then that she had the satisfaction of watching realization dawn upon his features, followed closely by fear. He looked at her in terror. Her eyes were like ice and he knew, in that moment, that she had decided his fate already. The terror and desperation that flittered there was so satisfying, but terror fell to pleading and desperation. "Please, you have to believe me!" he exclaimed, pointlessly begging for his miserable life. Still… part of her almost hesitated. What had it been like, she wondered, to have that… that thing, inside of his mind, whispering to him, tormenting him? Suddenly his journals made so much more sense. Suddenly she saw why over time his letters had become less and less intimate.

No, she couldn't keep thinking like this. She had decided he would die, so he would die… He would die… Imagine her surprise, then, when she heard herself answering him with these words. "I believe you. Just… don't come back here." Don't come back here? Was she truly going to let him get away with so many murders, with the loss of so much gold, with treachery and deceit, whether it had been forced or not.

"Of course," he said, body relaxing in relief and eyes filling with such gratefulness. "I don't even want to hear the word 'barrow' again. Ever. I'll go to Raven Rock and you… you won't mention this to anyone? If you see me there, just… give a nod and I'll lend a hand if you need it. It's… it's the least I can do. Just… keep this quiet."

"Oh, don't think you're getting away that easily. I can't let this go unpunished," she icily declared, and slowly he met her eyes, confusion plain in his expression, then realization, then fear, and then… then what she wanted to see above all else. Helpless submission. He knew even before she spoke what she would ask of him…

ES

You see, when he'd vowed he would lend her a hand, she had had a stroke of brilliance. He was skilled, highly skilled to take out Dragr Deathlords with a couple of pickaxes, and he could be made good use of. She cared little for followers, didn't give a thought to what happened to them. She hardly registered them as living breathing beings. She'd had a few for novelties sake before; of course they'd all ended up dead. The life of a Dragonborn and adventurer was no safe thing. She saw that this one, Ralis, would have loved to curl up in the Raven Rock and never look back again, but no… He wouldn't be so lucky.

She would make him pay for his crimes. She would make him suffer every day and every night, never let him forget his massacre. She would watch in delight as guilt and misery and helplessness wore him down and she wouldn't care… She wouldn't care… She… she wouldn't, would she? No. No, she would hardly spare him a thought. He was a thing to be used, an asset…He was her servant. She had had the decorum to treat her past followers with some decency, at least, but this one… Oh no, he would get no respect. He would be shown no mercy and no courtesy. This man was nothing but an object to be used. He would be her packmule, he would be her meat shield, he would be her whipping boy, her workhorse, and above all he would be her slave. Oh how he would be her slave…

"You're no more than a worthless slave, and you belong to me. My word you will obey, my every command and order you will follow without argument, without protest. You will bow and scrape to me and beg even for something as small as a morsel of food. My word is your law. Your dignity stripped from you, your freedom non-existent, you will live forever paying the price for the slaughter you've brought about here today. Death… Oh death you will soon come to believe would have been a blessing. I have my plans for you. How I have plans for you. You will slave away until you are a shell of what you were, a broken man. You will work your fingers to the bone if I please it!" she stated, and part of her hoped he would beg for death now. Part of her was horrified at her own words and begged for her to take them back. She buried this part away, hardening her heart and soul. No, it wouldn't be so easy. It would never be so easy as that.

ES

What would he say now, she wondered? What helpless and pitiful words would he speak to try and be free? Then to her shock and disbelief, to her utter astonishment, he knelt… He knelt before her, bowing his head low, and he answered, "I am yours to command, sera. Thank you… for sparing a wretched life such as mine."

She was silent a long moment, trying to process what she had just heard. Finally she replied, "Your thanks will turn to curses soon enough."

"Whatever you say, boss," he answered, and she wanted to think he was being sarcastic or taunting, but she knew… She knew his every word was sincere.

"Follow me, you wretched dog," she ordered.

"Yes, mistress," he replied in hardly a whisper, and for the first time she saw and heard the wretchedness and misery he was feeling. For a moment she felt remorse. No… no… He had shown no remorse and he would be given none… But still part of her wondered… No, she quickly denied the idea and marched proudly towards the surface, him following like the worthless cretin he knew she thought him to be… That thought pained him more than it had a right to…

(A/N: When I went through this quest I was at a level eight and running into Draugr Deathlords. When by some miracle I reached Ahzidal, I could hardly last a minute against him. I ran from the barrow intending to get a few followers before returning. I grabbed Lydia and I grabbed Barbus the immortal dog and headed back. By the time I got there and led my 'army' down into the barrow to face that Dragon Priest, ever single draugr was dead and Ahzidal was nothing but an ash pile. Ralis was standing right in the middle of it all. To say I was flabbergasted is an understatement. He literally took down every single one of those Draugr Scourges and Deathlords and Overlords single handedly, and by some miracle managed to take out Ahzidal as well. If I had planned to kill him before, after seeing that feat the thought was far from my mind.)