Fate's Games

(A/N: This one was begging to be done when I did the quest for Brand-Shei to find the keys of his past. I know Brelyna claims to be a Telvanni, and I know about Master Neloth in the Dragonborn DLC, but those are storylines indirectly linked to Brandyl's that I intend to touch on in the bigger projects that I'm working on. Assumedly Brand-Shei/Brandyl doesn't know either Brelyna or Neloth even exist, and nor does the heroine yet, in this one. Even with Brelyna and Neloth still alive, though, Brand-Shei technically remains the last heir as he was the only son of the Telvanni ruler. Anyway, the conversation between Brand-Shei and the heroine is directly from the quest he gives, semi-verbatim. For a reviewer from a while back, as per your request a Brynjolf oneshot will be coming up later. Not sure if it'll be today, but it's coming.)

The Last Heir

She had first met Brand-Shei on her initial trip to Riften. He had been kind to her and had proven a trustworthy and fair merchant, at times even offering a little more money than others for her items. Then one day a man calling himself Brynjolf had tried to convince her to frame him for theft. The idea of breaking the law had never crossed her mind. Brand-Shei was innocent. Brand-Shei was good. She knew he would never do such a thing. She liked him. She had, in so many words, told Brynjolf to go jump in a lake, deeply offended that he had thought her a thief. Brynjolf, obviously as insulted as she was offended, had retreated back.

She had felt slightly guilty about her outburst, but not enough so to apologize to the thief. Besides, with all the treasures she collected, she needed all the merchants she could get. Riften was rich with traders. The last thing she wanted was for one to be taken away. Speaking of treasures… She checked her items. It was about time she started to sell off some of the things she had. She smiled softly to herself. That meant a visit to Brand-Shei. These visits were interludes she very much anticipated. They got along well, the two of them, and overtime had become quite friendly with one another.

ES

He watched her approaching as he wiped the counter of his stall. He smirked softly at her. He'd seen Brynjolf speaking to the young woman. He hoped everything was all right, but she looked distracted. "Something wrong, milady?" he questioned as she absently handed over some Dragon Bones and Dragon Scales then waited to be paid. He began counting out the gold he would give to her.

"No…" she replied vaguely. "It was… It was just something someone wanted me to do."

"What did it entail?" Brand-Shei questioned, glancing up. That someone was Brynjolf, no doubt. He had nothing against the thief, personally, Brynjolf could really be quite amiable, in fact; but ultimately the man was still a thief, not to be trusted, and he personally was on the outs with the Thieves Guild.

She was silent a long moment. Finally she looked nervously up at him and replied, "He wanted me to frame you for theft, that's all."

Brand-Shei frowned ponderously as he wondered who had wished him thrown in prison. It certainly wasn't Brynjolf, they had no bad blood between each other on a personal level, so the Thieves Guild was carrying this out for someone. As far as Brand-Shei knew, though, he hadn't made any enemies. Hmm; then again he had recently made the mistake of indirectly offending Maven Black-Briar. He had chased off a potential threat to his stall, not knowing at the time that it was actually one of her men. The Thieves Guild had close ties to the Black-Briar family, and if he had to go out on a limb he would most certainly say that Maven was behind this little frame-up issue.

"Did you?" Brand-Shei questioned, frowning ponderously.

"No! Do you really believe I would have…" she began, slightly hurt.

"Calm yourself, lady, I trust you; I know you didn't," he replied, gently covering her hand with his. He felt daring enough to do this because they had become what you would call friends. He very much had come to like her. She smiled worriedly at him. He smiled at her then went back to his thoughts. Assuming Maven was behind this, Brynjolf wouldn't give up his little scheme simply because one visitor had refused his offer. It also meant that, depending on whether the Thieves Guild's plot was successful or not, he had little time left now to… Well, to find out the keys of his past, the buried secrets, before he was arrested and locked away.

"Brynjolf won't stop until you're imprisoned, will he?" she asked, smile falling.

"Not likely," Brand-Shei confirmed, squeezing her hand reassuringly. She looked sadly down. "It won't be for long," he promised.

"How do you know?" she questioned.

"I don't, for certain…" he answered. She looked at him with sad eyes that made his insides twist uncomfortably. "Things will look up," he promised, kissing her hand gently.

ES

A week had gone by. The two were laughing together at a humorous anecdote she'd told. So far things were going well. When their laughter died there was a comfortable silence as he once again began counting out the coin he would use to pay her for her treasures. She smiled softly at him as she watched. "You have an unusual name for a Dark Elf," she remarked suddenly.

"I may be Dark Elf by birth, but I was raised Argonian. Through reasons I'm still trying to discover, I ended up orphaned then taken in by a kindly Argonian family in Black Marsh. I hope one day to find out what happened to me… how I ended up like that," he replied, a distant and wistful look in his eyes as he absently finished counting the coin.

She cringed. Perhaps she'd touched on too sensitive of a spot? "Do you have any clues as to your past?" she wondered carefully as he passed her the gold. She was curious, now, as to what could have happened.

He was silent a long moment, slowly looking up at her. Should he tell her what he knew? Perhaps she could help. In all honesty, he wasn't sure himself if he ever wanted to know. Finally, though, he answered, picking and choosing his words carefully, "Just one. I know when I was found by my Argonian father, I was wrapped in a blanket bearing the symbol of House Telvanni. It was one of the great houses in Morrowind long ago. Whether that means I was one of them or not, I'm uncertain. If you come across anything in your travels that might provide me with the answers I'm looking for, I'd be grateful."

Her eyes were wide in amazement. House Telvanni? If he were truly one of the last Telvanni's—if not the last—the man was essentially royalty. And he was living in the slums of Riften? That was unacceptable! Oh if it were true, if he was really the last… Pity came to her expression. It was tragic, in a way, and also wildly romantic. Wait, where had that come from? She blushed. "I'll keep an eye out," she quickly promised in an attempt to divert his attention from her flushing cheeks.

It seemed to work as he simply and gratefully said with a nod, "Thank you."

"So why did you decide to search for your past in Skyrim?" she wondered curiously.

Confusion and sadness and pain and so much more came to his eyes. She almost regretted pressing. How must it be, she wondered, to know nothing of who you were, of what your past was, of what your life could have been? Did it hurt? Was it frightening? Was it unsettling? Surely it was all of this and more. Oh dear one, for how long have you searched, so desperately trying to find a key to your shrouded past?

He looked up at her and finally answered, "I learned that a matron who had served for House Telvanni had escaped Morrowind during the Accession War. Records showed her buying passage aboard a sailing vessel named The Pride of Tel Vos, but that's where the trail ran cold. I spent years looking for what became of the ship, but I ended up empty-handed." Ruefully he shook his head.

She would be back with something, with anything, if only it helped him to solve even just one of the mysteries filling his life. She wouldn't return until she had his answer held in her hand. He wasn't looking at her, focused instead on organizing his merchandise. She hesitated a moment, but suddenly she leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek, startling him. He looked at her, eyes wide in disbelief.

"You'll have your answers, I swear it," she vowed softly. With that she left, leaving him watching after her, unable to turn away.

ES

She found the wreck as sure as night followed day, and in it a chest. She cautiously watched the bandits not far off, hoping they didn't spot her. She didn't wish for there to be bloodshed now. Carefully she picked the lock on the chest and slowly opened it, willing it not to creak. Her luck held out. It never made a sound. She breathed a sigh of relief. She had travelled all the way to Winterhold to find this wreck. It had taken what seemed forever, but she'd made it. The last thing she needed was to die here should the bandits attack.

She scrounged around in the chest, looting what was of value, until finally she reached the bottom. There was a blanket, there, wrapped around something. She gently picked it up and uncovered the object. She caught her breath. A book! A journal, of sorts, and it was very weak. Carefully she opened it, hoping the pages wouldn't disintegrate at her touch. Slowly she read through it, her eyes widening as she caught her breath. This was it! This was what her dear friend had been so desperately searching for! These were his father's own words, his last words, transcribed by the servant who had escaped so long ago… Quickly she closed it up and tucked it safely away. Swiftly she hurried from the wreck as the sound of a roaring dragon was heard drawing near to the location.

ES

She entered Riften and ran right to his stall. "Brand-Shei, Brand-Shei, I've found it! At last you shall have your answers! This is what you've been looking for," she exclaimed excitedly, racing right up to him.

"Let me see that!" he eagerly said, taking it from her hands. As he read the journal, a sense of relief washed over him… For a moment he became overwhelmed with emotion as tears began to threaten their presence in his eyes. These… these were his father's last words… How he could feel so connected to a man he'd never met… a man who had given up everything for his sake… He wished now, more than ever, that he had had the chance just to know his father, even if only for a day. And his name… he finally knew his name, what it had been… Brandyl… That was a Dark Elf name if ever there was one. Finally… Finally he knew who he was…

"You're crying," her voice suddenly, concernedly, said, breaking through his thoughts.

He looked up at her. I weep, lady, because you could never hope to imagine what it is that I feel in this moment. All the emotions, all the thoughts and regrets and the longings… I weep because I am so happy; and yet I so deeply mourn the loss of the family I never knew… "Yes… yes. This is it! I don't know how you found this, but you've obviously succeeded where I had failed. Please, let me offer you this key. It unlocks my strongbox under my stand in the marketplace. Help yourself to anything inside," he said in reply, diverting her attention so he could continue to read the words his father had written so long ago.

She took the key quietly. He was being surprisingly silent for a man who had just discovered he could very well be the last remaining descendant of the Telvanni's. Telvanni… one of the largest noble houses in Morrowind, some of the greatest mages to have ever been known, and they had been decimated… yet here was its heir… "Do you even know what you are?" she asked curiously, confused as to his lack of reaction.

He stiffened, sharply looking up, and for a long moment there was silence. Finally he sighed deeply, shoulders sagging. "It hardly matters anymore. They're gone. What is there for me to go back to?" he asked. "But… but thank you… because of you I know now who I am, what happened to me, what my past was… I can never thank you enough for what you've done…I'll never forget it…"

"Why should you give it up?" she wondered.

He was quiet a time, but soon he replied, "Perhaps one day I will look into it further." She nodded uncertainly and left.

ES

Two days had passed by. His mind was still swimming with all he'd learned, with all he'd read; and as such he was not prepared in the least for when a certain voice said, "I don't like being made a fool of, Brand-Shei. Not one bit."

He stiffened, sharply looking up. Maven Black-Briar! He cursed under his breath. He knew why she was here. Oh how well he knew. The thief he'd turned into the guards. That thief had happened to be one of Maven's men, which he hadn't known until much later. He'd hoped Maven would overlook it. It appeared she hadn't. It also appeared that she wasn't happy he hadn't been arrested yet. Oh he pitied the Thieves Guild if they'd let her down. "Maven, please. I didn't know it was your man. Had I known, I would have looked the other way, I swear," he promised, a very real wave of fear washing through him.

"Turning him in to the guards? Have you joined Mjoll as official peacekeepers of Riften? You cost me a lot of coin," she warned, unimpressed.

"Maven, I… please don't hurt me," he finally said, choosing not to try and defend himself any further. He spotted the Dragonborn, though, and he saw the look in her eyes. They were flaming viciously, almost murderous. He paled and shook his head subtly, begging the woman whose eyes were so filled with maliciousness not to interfere. Either she hadn't gotten the clue or she had ignored it, because angrily she marched towards Maven.

ES

"Harlot, do you know to whom you speak?!" she demanded sharply, viciously turning Maven to face her directly.

Maven gawked at her in disbelief, obviously surprised. "To whom I speak? I speak to a merchant who cost me more gold than he's worth," she finally replied, her own eyes starting to glitter murderously.

"He is worth more than you and your sorry empire will ever be!" the Dragonborn snapped. She was unafraid of Maven. The last assassin the woman had sent out after her had ended up dead, and she'd made it a point to show proof of that to Maven. Maven hadn't bothered her again. At least not up to this point.

"Excuse me?" Maven asked coldly.

"Dragonborn! I would speak with you," Brand-Shei hissed warningly.

"No, you cannot hide from it! Here it is. These are your roots," she replied vehemently.

"What roots?" Maven suspiciously asked, now keenly interested. She didn't believe she liked where this was going.

"You speak to the last known heir of House Telvanni!" the Dragonborn shot, and Maven paled, visibly shaken as she looked sharply at Brand-Shei in disbelief.

"Speculation," Brand-Shei quickly insisted.

"Proven," the Dragonborn replied, glaring reproachfully at him. He fell silent, ever so slightly ashamed. He had denied his own birthright to try and save himself from repercussion. That was not the Dunmer way.

"Dragonborn, I would speak with you," he repeated in a low growl nonetheless. He took her arm firmly and pulled her a ways away from Maven, who watched cautiously.

ES

"Do you want to send me to my grave?" he demanded testily the moment the two were out of earshot.

"This is your birthright," she replied.

"I don't want it!" he shot, and though it hurt him to say those words, what else could he say? There was nothing left of House Telvanni; only a memory and him.

"Why?" she asked.

"Sera, there is nothing left that I can claim as mine. Even if there were, I have no idea of how to be a leader, of how to be a Telvanni. I know nothing of them, of their ways and customs, of their allies. I hardly know how they died. I was raised an Argonian, not a Dunmer, and as such I long ago lost any knowledge of my people's customs and traditions. I am nothing but a stall merchant. That's all I'll ever be," he answered.

"You are so much more than that," she stated.

"Is what I am not good enough for you?!" he demanded. She started and he savagely bit his tongue. What had he just said? What had he just admitted to her? Then the guilt came as he saw the hurt in her expression.

Tears burning her eyes, she replied, "Long before I knew who you were I began to love you. That you could think otherwise…"

"Then what are you doing?" he pled desperately, taking her arms. He wouldn't apologize. Dunmer pride, perhaps, for there were some traits one was born with. Or maybe it was simply his nature, in his blood. He wondered. Was he much like his father, his mother, any of his relatives? He'd never know now, he understood that, but he couldn't help but ponder it.

"Your family… Their legacy and their name can live on through you. How can you let that go? Perhaps it's just… I couldn't let my past go… I wanted my parents' memories to live on through me. I couldn't let them fade into history…"

"Dragonborn, when I'm gone it'll hardly matter," he said. "House Telvanni will fade away regardless."

"You deserve so much better than the slums of these streets. To live in fear, to be under the thumb of Maven, of all people," she said.

"It's the life I'm used to living," he stated, but he couldn't quite meet her eyes, for her words were burning into his mind, and he felt the Dunmer in him fighting to get out.

"It's a life that you could escape if you only tried. Regardless of your birthright, regardless of your heritage, this is a life you can escape," she said.

"I don't want to," he said, slowly looking up at her. "You're in the life I have built for myself here," he answered. She looked up at him, eyes wide. Before he could react she'd thrown herself into his arms, kissing him adoringly. Immediately he wrapped his arms around her, returning as passionately as she was kissing him. Maven started, offended at being forgotten, and walked awkwardly away from the scene.

(A/N: I'm hoping to get more up today, but if I do it might not be until later, depending on how things go.)