Your Truth Cannot Stand
A Skyrim Fanfiction
Chapter 3: Enchanted
Table of Contents:
Chapter 1: Descent into Darkness
Chapter 2: Strange, Meet Stranger
Chapter 3: Enchanted (you are here)
Chapter 4: A Dragon, a Daedra and a Justiciar Walk Into a House…
Chapter 5: Oh No, She’s Relatable
Chapter 6: I Need to Speak to the Thalmor’s Manager
Chapter 7: All I Should Have Been
Chapter 8: Paralysis Analysis
Chapter 9: It’s the End of the World as We Know it
Chapter 10: Gods and Pawns
Chapter 11: I Was Like You, Once
Chapter 12: Solace from the Sky
Chapter 13: Awakening
Chapter 14: Second Chances
Chapter 1: Descent into Darkness
Chapter 2: Strange, Meet Stranger
Chapter 3: Enchanted (you are here)
Chapter 4: A Dragon, a Daedra and a Justiciar Walk Into a House…
Chapter 5: Oh No, She’s Relatable
Chapter 6: I Need to Speak to the Thalmor’s Manager
Chapter 7: All I Should Have Been
Chapter 8: Paralysis Analysis
Chapter 9: It’s the End of the World as We Know it
Chapter 10: Gods and Pawns
Chapter 11: I Was Like You, Once
Chapter 12: Solace from the Sky
Chapter 13: Awakening
Chapter 14: Second Chances
Calcelmo was getting impatient. Aicantar was fidgeting nervously. Kierska and Lydia had long ago lost interest, put their helmets back on, run off into the nearby Dwemer ruins to kill a giant spider, come back victorious, and started arm-wrestling each other in a corner.
And the amulet was still there, staring back at him in faceless mockery.
With a huff of frustration that he barely restrained from devolving into a growl, Ondolemar shoved himself upright, tilted backward to stretch the stiffness from his back, then strode toward the two travelers.
They paused in mid-match to look up at him, holding still for a few expectant seconds. Without taking her wide, innocent eyes off of his, the Khajiit suddenly shoved her companion’s hand down, catching the Nord by surprise and earning herself a half-sincere scolding glare that she pretended not to notice.
“Did it work?” Kierska asked, and Ondolemar fought to push the aggravation from his voice.
“No,” he replied, and the annoyance that insisted on tightening his tone only annoyed him more.
The feline’s shoulder rolled in a now-familiar shrug. “I wouldn’t call it conclusive evidence,” she pointed out, “since Daedric artifacts can’t be disenchanted either, and neither can Dark Brotherhood outfits.”
“Dark Brotherhood outfits? How did you come to possess one of those?”
“I assassinated the Dark Brotherhood.”
He blinked, and allowed himself a moment to stare at her blankly, processing her words. Is there no end to her ability to say shocking things as if they were mundane? “All of them?!” he blurted out, trying to keep his voice from rising, and wondering why no one had bothered to tell him.
“Well…” She shifted uncomfortably. “All the ones in the Falkreath sanctuary. There was at least one smell in there whose source I couldn’t find, but I got all the ones who were there, and Ms. Missing Smell was never there during the several times I came back to check, so I guess they’re down to one member.
“Anyway, their gear could not be disenchanted, which was super annoying, because the armor was weak and I wanted to put some of the enchantments on better armor, but I couldn’t. Why I couldn’t, I don’t know, so for now, I blame Sithis.
“As for who’s responsible for Talos’ amulets being immune, I don’t know that either, but it did make me want to do some more tests.”
“Such as?” I hope these next tests are easier to disprove.
“I tried wearing the amulet, to see if it would have a magic effect like divine amulets do. To most people, it would probably seem like it didn’t do anything, since you can’t sense improvements in something you can’t use, but for a Thu’um user like me, there’s a noticeable improvement in your Thu’um.”
“Thu’um?” It took him a moment to remember what the word meant. Then the memory struck like a speeding rock, and his stomach clenched. “Are you referring to the Shout-based magic used by Tiber Septim?”
No, surely… surely the gods would not inflict this on the world again. Not after what some of the other Dragonborns did.
But we all heard the Greybeards call “Dovahkiin.” They were calling… HER?
If she noticed his alarm, she gave no sign of it. “Yes, the same kind dragons use to shoot ice and fire.”
“You can breathe fire?”
The new voice made her alert furry head snap to the side, and all eyes turned to see Aicantar, who froze awkwardly in the face of so much attention. “I, uh… I’m sorry to interrupt – I wasn’t trying to eavesdrop, it’s just – well, you were right there, and I couldn’t help but overhear, you were saying you can breathe fire?”
A small smile crossed Kierska’s face, then she stood and tilted her face toward the sky. “YOL… TOOR!”
A plume of fire burst from her mouth, rolling toward the high stone ceiling like an incandescent flood, and Calcelmo yelped and jumped so hard that he nearly dropped his book.
Cries of “Ysmir’s beard!” and “The Thu’um! She summons the Thu’um!” rang from the nearby guards, and Ondolemar’s jaw tightened slightly. He hadn’t planned to draw so much attention to their conversation.
For a few startled seconds, everyone stared. Then Calcelmo stepped forward, fascination and a hint of frustration mixing in his voice. “That was quite a display, my young friend. I would love to study this phenomenon, some other time, but… if you don’t mind, my studies have been disrupted quite enough for today, and I need some time to focus.”
“Oh.” Her shoulders slumped slightly. “Sorry… I should’ve thought of that.” Her gaze darted to Ondolemar. “We should take this somewhere where we won’t distract anyone.”
“Of course. We can continue this conversation in my quarters, assuming there is no further need for you to breathe fire.”
“I wasn’t really breathing it, I was Shouting, but… I guess one demonstration was enough.” She stepped forward, and Lydia stood to follow her. “Anyway, let’s get going.”
Ondolemar nodded, then turned and strode toward his quarters, curiosity quickening his pace almost to a jog. Behind him, the Khajiit’s shorter legs sprang into a bouncing half-trot until they were side by side, leaving their respective bodyguards to radiate distrust at each other in their wake.
Unfortunately, his room was far smaller than befitted his station – too small to easily accommodate five people at once. So after a gesture from him and a brief conversation between the Khajiit and the Nord, he found himself sitting alone in the room with a stranger who could speak fire.
“So,” he asked casually, sliding into his chair with an air of insouciant ease while part of his mind wondered if he was unwisely cornering himself, “how precisely does this amulet fortify your Thu’um?”
Fortunately, Kierska showed no signs that she was thinking of taking advantage of the absence of his guards. She was too busy settling into an animalistic crouch on the chair opposite him. “Well,” she explained, “after each time you Shout, there’s a delay before you can do it again. The amulet reduces that delay.”
“I see.” I’ve never heard of that enchantment before. Who could have created it? “And the shrines? Do the shrines have any effect?”
And would you admit, in front of me, to having prayed at a shrine of Talos?
“Yes, I tested that, too. The shrines fortify Shouts the same way, and… have you ever tried visiting one when you were sick?”
“Of course not!” he exclaimed, sitting up straighter as heat swirled in his chest. How many times was she going to make him feel completely scandalized? “No Thalmor Justiciar would even consider such an act of blasphemy!”
“Well, I tried it when I had Sanguinare Vampiris, to see if it would work.”
“And?” He already suspected the answer. And he hated it.
“It worked.”
Rage coiled inside him, and his stomach and fingers twisted into knots at the thought that a false human deity could mimic and mock the miracles of true Divines. “It must have been the work of a Daedra! A shrine to a human cannot! Cure! DISEASES!”
Kierska’s head tilted to the side, her serene curiosity unruffled by his menacing display. “Which Daedra do you think it was? And why would they want to give the credit for their power to someone else?”
He opened his mouth to answer, but she talked over him, her voice quickened by hopeful enthusiasm. “Do you suppose they could be convinced to enchant some shrines in Elsweyr? After what the Knahaten Flu did to my people, it would be great if we had shrines that could cure the next epidemic that tries to wipe us out.”
Gruesome images swept through Ondolemar’s mind, and his wrath began to drain away, like boiling water from an overturned kettle. The plague had ended before his birth, but he’d read several books about its horrors, and recoiled from the drawings of its wretched, dying victims.
The pandemic had opened the door for the Altmer to aid the Khajiit and gain their loyalty in return, and reading of his people’s courageous efforts had brought the same swell of admiration and pride that he’d felt when he’d learned of the Thalmor’s role in ending the Void Nights and the Oblivion Crisis.
If it was possible to create shrines that could heal all disease, he could hardly blame Kierska for wanting to learn more. And if the Thalmor could gain control of such a priceless resource… the possibilities were staggering. Thrilling.
The catastrophes they could prevent, and the loyalty and love they could gain in return! There might even come a time when war would be unnecessary – Tamriel would embrace their rightful rule willingly.
Through the haze of possibility, it suddenly occurred to him that the Khajiit was still staring at him, her brow slowly furrowing as she waited for an answer. Ondolemar cleared his throat, then looked her in the eye, making sure to keep his tone crisp and professional. “Those are excellent questions. I do not have the answers at this time, but mark my words, I will find them.
“If what you’re saying is true, this is certainly a matter that warrants further research. Both to discover the magical forces that are perpetuating the heresy of Talos, and to obtain a source of medical magic for the Dominion and our allies. Thank you for bringing this to my attention.”
Her tail rose, her eyes brightened, and her face lifted in a smile. “You’re welcome. Whatever the truth turns out to be, hopefully something good will come of it. And thank you for taking the time to listen, and answering my questions without threatening me, insulting me, or trying to kill me.”
What paltry things to be thankful for. Have my colleagues truly set so low a bar while they acted as the face of the Aldmeri Dominion? No wonder I’ve been having so much trouble gaining the locals’ cooperation.
“Of course,” he replied smoothly, concealing his increasingly nagging concern. “I am somewhat surprised that you were bold enough to broach this subject with a Thalmor Justiciar, especially after your… unpleasant past experiences.”
There it was again, the thumping of that odd little ear flick that signaled the turning of her mental gears. “It was a risk,” she admitted, “but in case you couldn’t tell from the armor made of dragon parts and Daedra hearts, all of which we killed ourselves, Lydia and I are pretty good at defending ourselves.
“Besides, like I said, I believe in finding the truth instead of making assumptions, and I don’t believe in trading my willingness to use my own brain for my safety.
“If someone can convince me with evidence and explanations that make sense, then I’ll believe what they say. But I won’t think something that contradicts what my senses tell me just to keep people from killing me for thinking.
“After all, if someone tries to kill a person just for thinking, the chances are pretty good that whatever they said is wrong, and thinking will reveal that they were lying or mistaken. In which case, I think they have no business telling people what to think in the first place, don’t you think?” she concluded, flavoring the statement with a surprisingly informal wink.
“Of course.” It was an easy answer to give. A simple, noncommittal acknowledgment.
But the feeling that was swelling in his chest… that was far harder to vocalize.
He’d never thought he would feel admiration for someone who wasn’t an Altmer, or at least a Bosmer. Certainly not for a young Betmer, sitting with her feet on the chair like an animal.
But behind her beastlike posture, her sometimes simplistic choices of words, and an accent that reminded him all too much of the Imperials whose inferior culture had no doubt tainted her perspective, a keen mind burned with fearless curiosity, and he couldn’t help but feel a warm rush of respect.
“An admirable approach,” he elaborated, allowing his feelings to show in his voice. “I only hope it does not lead you down a path of heresy that could necessitate your arrest.”
A sharp mind like hers, left to rot in a cell… it would likely be the only time he’d regret arresting a heretic.
Her nonchalant shrug suggested that the thought bothered her less than him. “If the evidence proves that Talos isn’t a god, there’ll be no reason for me to act like he is. And if it proves he is a god…”
She spread her hands to either side, palms facing the high stone ceiling as her body rocked slightly for balance. “It isn’t heresy if it’s true. Time and research will tell.”
“Indeed. And hopefully the locals will become more proactive in rooting out this heresy once proof of its folly has been found.”
He shook his head. “At least Ulfric’s soldiers are willing to fight for their principles, barbaric as they may be. Perhaps, with the guidance of a more enlightened race, that determination might be steered onto a more productive path.”
“You consider yourselves more enlightened?”
“Of course. The Altmer have long been recognized as the most civilized race in Tamriel. We live much longer than humans, accrue a greater amount of knowledge in that longer span of time, and are not as prone to superstition as the other, younger races. We intend to prove the superiority of Mer over Man, one century at a time.”
“One century?” Her head tilted into that increasingly familiar, dubious angle again. “That sounds terribly inefficient. I prove my superiority several times a week.”
“Oh?” He was as skeptical of her ‘superiority’ as she clearly was of his, but his curiosity was piqued. “How so?”
“By taking out threats other people couldn’t have survived, or finding lost things they couldn’t find, or talking people into or out of doing things when other people had tried and failed… things like that.
“I’m not the best at everything, but I’m better than most people at a lot of things. And people usually like me for it, because I try to treat them right even if they’re weaker than me, and I use my superiority to make their lives easier… one action at a time.”
“A curious approach. I can see how it would make an impression on the people of Skyrim, but it sounds like you show your ‘superiority’ by being everyone’s errand girl.”
“Hmph.” From the way her eyes narrowed, he suspected he’d stung her pride a bit – what little there was to sting. “I’ve had that implied before. But the way I see it, superiority comes with responsibility. The gods didn’t give me the blood of a dragon just so I could strut around and lord it over people. They did it so I could get things done.”
She leaned forward slightly. The movement was almost imperceptible, but the shift in her posture fixed him in place, and the sudden intensity of her stare seemed to drill into his eyes. “The gods are superior to mortals, right?”
“Of course.”
“And how do they show their superiority?”
“By…” Heh. She did have a point. “…performing feats that mortals cannot,” he concurred with a small, acknowledging smile.
“And it’s usually on mortals’ behalf, right?”
“That is true.” He chuckled. “Very well. Point taken.”
She smiled, then added, “I’m not trying to be just like the gods. They tend to be kind of… uninvolved, or at least not involved directly. And they don’t tend to talk when I ask them how I… how a Dragonborn should be, so… I figure it out as best I can.”
“Oh? And what conclusions did you come to?”
“Well… do what good I can with the power I have… don’t hurt people except to protect their victims… don’t use the power Akatosh… Alkosh?… Auri-El?… the dragon god gave me to bully the people he presumably sent me to protect… treat people well and with respect regardless of their power level, unless they do something that requires me to kick their ass… um…”
She trailed off, hunching slightly as she lost momentum, then perked back up as she remembered, “Remember the value of people and skills that aren’t like mine… protect people who can’t protect themselves… and never get drunk again.”
“Oh?” His respect had been growing until that last phrase, and now it turned into curiosity and amusement. “I imagine there’s a story behind that last one.”
“Have you ever had to break off an engagement with a hagraven?”
“No,” he replied, laughter bubbling beneath the surface of his tone. “I imagine it’s the kind of mistake you only make once.”
“Yeah.” Her eyes fell. “More importantly than the hagraven, though… someone could have died while my judgment was compromised. As Dragonborn, I have a responsibility to be more careful than that with people who are weaker than me. Akatosh gave me this power, and I have to use it right.”
So this is the newest Dragonborn. She’s certainly different from some of the ones I read about. Less aggressive, more self-controlled, more… despite her profession, more peaceful. She’s certainly no Tiber Septim.
And yet, despite her youth and her lack of pride and military ambition, she was clearly willing to fight for her principles, and to seek the truth rather than blindly cling to the barbaric practices of a past that was best left behind.
Perhaps, with the guidance of an older, more knowledgeable race, her potential could be steered in a better direction. One that would benefit the Aldmeri Dominion, instead of subjugating it like Tiber Septim or flooding it with Daedra like Mankar Camoran.
If superiority does come with responsibility, what better way to show our superiority responsibly than to guide the lesser races toward the truth and their full potential?
The Thalmor have much to offer in exchange for their cooperation and loyalty. Perhaps we simply need to express that reality more convincingly.
“An admirable stance,” he complimented her, and her posture subtly perked toward him. “I will certainly pursue this line of research you have directed me to.
“I consider it my…” a raised eyebrow and a slight smirk emphasized the word, “responsibility to use the Thalmor’s superior knowledge and resources to reveal the truth to the Nords, in such a way that even their stubbornness cannot counter clear reality.
“Thank you again for bringing this to my attention. For now, I must return to my duties. You are free to leave.”
“All right.” She sprang lightly over the arm of her chair, and by the time he’d extracted his legs from beneath the table, she was already standing by the door. Perhaps there was some merit to her odd way of sitting, though he doubted he could ever feel comfortable or dignified in that position.
Her fingers settled on the door handle, then she paused. “I’ll check back in next time I’m in Markarth. I look forward to seeing what you’ve learned.”
“I’ll be expecting you, then. I, too, look forward to our next conversation.”
One last small smile, and then she was gone, slipping through the door and leaving it open for him. As he followed her, he heard her housecarl ask “We heading out?”, and both her voice and his guards’ faces showed subtle relief as their respective leaders arrived to separate them.
They’d probably been staring at each other in awkward silence this whole time.
“Yeah,” Kierska replied, “I was planning to talk to the Jarl about Thonar and the guards he bought. Hopefully this time he’ll actually listen to me.”
Their chatter faded as they strode down the hall, at a pace no doubt designed to cross many swift miles while conserving energy, and Ondolemar took a moment to watch them go.
An unusual meeting, with an unusual traveler. And now he was committed to a line of research he had never expected to pursue. It would likely prove to be an interesting challenge, but he had no doubt that it would end with the Thalmor’s claims confirmed.
He would prove their superiority, one discovery at a time.
And the amulet was still there, staring back at him in faceless mockery.
With a huff of frustration that he barely restrained from devolving into a growl, Ondolemar shoved himself upright, tilted backward to stretch the stiffness from his back, then strode toward the two travelers.
They paused in mid-match to look up at him, holding still for a few expectant seconds. Without taking her wide, innocent eyes off of his, the Khajiit suddenly shoved her companion’s hand down, catching the Nord by surprise and earning herself a half-sincere scolding glare that she pretended not to notice.
“Did it work?” Kierska asked, and Ondolemar fought to push the aggravation from his voice.
“No,” he replied, and the annoyance that insisted on tightening his tone only annoyed him more.
The feline’s shoulder rolled in a now-familiar shrug. “I wouldn’t call it conclusive evidence,” she pointed out, “since Daedric artifacts can’t be disenchanted either, and neither can Dark Brotherhood outfits.”
“Dark Brotherhood outfits? How did you come to possess one of those?”
“I assassinated the Dark Brotherhood.”
He blinked, and allowed himself a moment to stare at her blankly, processing her words. Is there no end to her ability to say shocking things as if they were mundane? “All of them?!” he blurted out, trying to keep his voice from rising, and wondering why no one had bothered to tell him.
“Well…” She shifted uncomfortably. “All the ones in the Falkreath sanctuary. There was at least one smell in there whose source I couldn’t find, but I got all the ones who were there, and Ms. Missing Smell was never there during the several times I came back to check, so I guess they’re down to one member.
“Anyway, their gear could not be disenchanted, which was super annoying, because the armor was weak and I wanted to put some of the enchantments on better armor, but I couldn’t. Why I couldn’t, I don’t know, so for now, I blame Sithis.
“As for who’s responsible for Talos’ amulets being immune, I don’t know that either, but it did make me want to do some more tests.”
“Such as?” I hope these next tests are easier to disprove.
“I tried wearing the amulet, to see if it would have a magic effect like divine amulets do. To most people, it would probably seem like it didn’t do anything, since you can’t sense improvements in something you can’t use, but for a Thu’um user like me, there’s a noticeable improvement in your Thu’um.”
“Thu’um?” It took him a moment to remember what the word meant. Then the memory struck like a speeding rock, and his stomach clenched. “Are you referring to the Shout-based magic used by Tiber Septim?”
No, surely… surely the gods would not inflict this on the world again. Not after what some of the other Dragonborns did.
But we all heard the Greybeards call “Dovahkiin.” They were calling… HER?
If she noticed his alarm, she gave no sign of it. “Yes, the same kind dragons use to shoot ice and fire.”
“You can breathe fire?”
The new voice made her alert furry head snap to the side, and all eyes turned to see Aicantar, who froze awkwardly in the face of so much attention. “I, uh… I’m sorry to interrupt – I wasn’t trying to eavesdrop, it’s just – well, you were right there, and I couldn’t help but overhear, you were saying you can breathe fire?”
A small smile crossed Kierska’s face, then she stood and tilted her face toward the sky. “YOL… TOOR!”
A plume of fire burst from her mouth, rolling toward the high stone ceiling like an incandescent flood, and Calcelmo yelped and jumped so hard that he nearly dropped his book.
Cries of “Ysmir’s beard!” and “The Thu’um! She summons the Thu’um!” rang from the nearby guards, and Ondolemar’s jaw tightened slightly. He hadn’t planned to draw so much attention to their conversation.
For a few startled seconds, everyone stared. Then Calcelmo stepped forward, fascination and a hint of frustration mixing in his voice. “That was quite a display, my young friend. I would love to study this phenomenon, some other time, but… if you don’t mind, my studies have been disrupted quite enough for today, and I need some time to focus.”
“Oh.” Her shoulders slumped slightly. “Sorry… I should’ve thought of that.” Her gaze darted to Ondolemar. “We should take this somewhere where we won’t distract anyone.”
“Of course. We can continue this conversation in my quarters, assuming there is no further need for you to breathe fire.”
“I wasn’t really breathing it, I was Shouting, but… I guess one demonstration was enough.” She stepped forward, and Lydia stood to follow her. “Anyway, let’s get going.”
Ondolemar nodded, then turned and strode toward his quarters, curiosity quickening his pace almost to a jog. Behind him, the Khajiit’s shorter legs sprang into a bouncing half-trot until they were side by side, leaving their respective bodyguards to radiate distrust at each other in their wake.
Unfortunately, his room was far smaller than befitted his station – too small to easily accommodate five people at once. So after a gesture from him and a brief conversation between the Khajiit and the Nord, he found himself sitting alone in the room with a stranger who could speak fire.
“So,” he asked casually, sliding into his chair with an air of insouciant ease while part of his mind wondered if he was unwisely cornering himself, “how precisely does this amulet fortify your Thu’um?”
Fortunately, Kierska showed no signs that she was thinking of taking advantage of the absence of his guards. She was too busy settling into an animalistic crouch on the chair opposite him. “Well,” she explained, “after each time you Shout, there’s a delay before you can do it again. The amulet reduces that delay.”
“I see.” I’ve never heard of that enchantment before. Who could have created it? “And the shrines? Do the shrines have any effect?”
And would you admit, in front of me, to having prayed at a shrine of Talos?
“Yes, I tested that, too. The shrines fortify Shouts the same way, and… have you ever tried visiting one when you were sick?”
“Of course not!” he exclaimed, sitting up straighter as heat swirled in his chest. How many times was she going to make him feel completely scandalized? “No Thalmor Justiciar would even consider such an act of blasphemy!”
“Well, I tried it when I had Sanguinare Vampiris, to see if it would work.”
“And?” He already suspected the answer. And he hated it.
“It worked.”
Rage coiled inside him, and his stomach and fingers twisted into knots at the thought that a false human deity could mimic and mock the miracles of true Divines. “It must have been the work of a Daedra! A shrine to a human cannot! Cure! DISEASES!”
Kierska’s head tilted to the side, her serene curiosity unruffled by his menacing display. “Which Daedra do you think it was? And why would they want to give the credit for their power to someone else?”
He opened his mouth to answer, but she talked over him, her voice quickened by hopeful enthusiasm. “Do you suppose they could be convinced to enchant some shrines in Elsweyr? After what the Knahaten Flu did to my people, it would be great if we had shrines that could cure the next epidemic that tries to wipe us out.”
Gruesome images swept through Ondolemar’s mind, and his wrath began to drain away, like boiling water from an overturned kettle. The plague had ended before his birth, but he’d read several books about its horrors, and recoiled from the drawings of its wretched, dying victims.
The pandemic had opened the door for the Altmer to aid the Khajiit and gain their loyalty in return, and reading of his people’s courageous efforts had brought the same swell of admiration and pride that he’d felt when he’d learned of the Thalmor’s role in ending the Void Nights and the Oblivion Crisis.
If it was possible to create shrines that could heal all disease, he could hardly blame Kierska for wanting to learn more. And if the Thalmor could gain control of such a priceless resource… the possibilities were staggering. Thrilling.
The catastrophes they could prevent, and the loyalty and love they could gain in return! There might even come a time when war would be unnecessary – Tamriel would embrace their rightful rule willingly.
Through the haze of possibility, it suddenly occurred to him that the Khajiit was still staring at him, her brow slowly furrowing as she waited for an answer. Ondolemar cleared his throat, then looked her in the eye, making sure to keep his tone crisp and professional. “Those are excellent questions. I do not have the answers at this time, but mark my words, I will find them.
“If what you’re saying is true, this is certainly a matter that warrants further research. Both to discover the magical forces that are perpetuating the heresy of Talos, and to obtain a source of medical magic for the Dominion and our allies. Thank you for bringing this to my attention.”
Her tail rose, her eyes brightened, and her face lifted in a smile. “You’re welcome. Whatever the truth turns out to be, hopefully something good will come of it. And thank you for taking the time to listen, and answering my questions without threatening me, insulting me, or trying to kill me.”
What paltry things to be thankful for. Have my colleagues truly set so low a bar while they acted as the face of the Aldmeri Dominion? No wonder I’ve been having so much trouble gaining the locals’ cooperation.
“Of course,” he replied smoothly, concealing his increasingly nagging concern. “I am somewhat surprised that you were bold enough to broach this subject with a Thalmor Justiciar, especially after your… unpleasant past experiences.”
There it was again, the thumping of that odd little ear flick that signaled the turning of her mental gears. “It was a risk,” she admitted, “but in case you couldn’t tell from the armor made of dragon parts and Daedra hearts, all of which we killed ourselves, Lydia and I are pretty good at defending ourselves.
“Besides, like I said, I believe in finding the truth instead of making assumptions, and I don’t believe in trading my willingness to use my own brain for my safety.
“If someone can convince me with evidence and explanations that make sense, then I’ll believe what they say. But I won’t think something that contradicts what my senses tell me just to keep people from killing me for thinking.
“After all, if someone tries to kill a person just for thinking, the chances are pretty good that whatever they said is wrong, and thinking will reveal that they were lying or mistaken. In which case, I think they have no business telling people what to think in the first place, don’t you think?” she concluded, flavoring the statement with a surprisingly informal wink.
“Of course.” It was an easy answer to give. A simple, noncommittal acknowledgment.
But the feeling that was swelling in his chest… that was far harder to vocalize.
He’d never thought he would feel admiration for someone who wasn’t an Altmer, or at least a Bosmer. Certainly not for a young Betmer, sitting with her feet on the chair like an animal.
But behind her beastlike posture, her sometimes simplistic choices of words, and an accent that reminded him all too much of the Imperials whose inferior culture had no doubt tainted her perspective, a keen mind burned with fearless curiosity, and he couldn’t help but feel a warm rush of respect.
“An admirable approach,” he elaborated, allowing his feelings to show in his voice. “I only hope it does not lead you down a path of heresy that could necessitate your arrest.”
A sharp mind like hers, left to rot in a cell… it would likely be the only time he’d regret arresting a heretic.
Her nonchalant shrug suggested that the thought bothered her less than him. “If the evidence proves that Talos isn’t a god, there’ll be no reason for me to act like he is. And if it proves he is a god…”
She spread her hands to either side, palms facing the high stone ceiling as her body rocked slightly for balance. “It isn’t heresy if it’s true. Time and research will tell.”
“Indeed. And hopefully the locals will become more proactive in rooting out this heresy once proof of its folly has been found.”
He shook his head. “At least Ulfric’s soldiers are willing to fight for their principles, barbaric as they may be. Perhaps, with the guidance of a more enlightened race, that determination might be steered onto a more productive path.”
“You consider yourselves more enlightened?”
“Of course. The Altmer have long been recognized as the most civilized race in Tamriel. We live much longer than humans, accrue a greater amount of knowledge in that longer span of time, and are not as prone to superstition as the other, younger races. We intend to prove the superiority of Mer over Man, one century at a time.”
“One century?” Her head tilted into that increasingly familiar, dubious angle again. “That sounds terribly inefficient. I prove my superiority several times a week.”
“Oh?” He was as skeptical of her ‘superiority’ as she clearly was of his, but his curiosity was piqued. “How so?”
“By taking out threats other people couldn’t have survived, or finding lost things they couldn’t find, or talking people into or out of doing things when other people had tried and failed… things like that.
“I’m not the best at everything, but I’m better than most people at a lot of things. And people usually like me for it, because I try to treat them right even if they’re weaker than me, and I use my superiority to make their lives easier… one action at a time.”
“A curious approach. I can see how it would make an impression on the people of Skyrim, but it sounds like you show your ‘superiority’ by being everyone’s errand girl.”
“Hmph.” From the way her eyes narrowed, he suspected he’d stung her pride a bit – what little there was to sting. “I’ve had that implied before. But the way I see it, superiority comes with responsibility. The gods didn’t give me the blood of a dragon just so I could strut around and lord it over people. They did it so I could get things done.”
She leaned forward slightly. The movement was almost imperceptible, but the shift in her posture fixed him in place, and the sudden intensity of her stare seemed to drill into his eyes. “The gods are superior to mortals, right?”
“Of course.”
“And how do they show their superiority?”
“By…” Heh. She did have a point. “…performing feats that mortals cannot,” he concurred with a small, acknowledging smile.
“And it’s usually on mortals’ behalf, right?”
“That is true.” He chuckled. “Very well. Point taken.”
She smiled, then added, “I’m not trying to be just like the gods. They tend to be kind of… uninvolved, or at least not involved directly. And they don’t tend to talk when I ask them how I… how a Dragonborn should be, so… I figure it out as best I can.”
“Oh? And what conclusions did you come to?”
“Well… do what good I can with the power I have… don’t hurt people except to protect their victims… don’t use the power Akatosh… Alkosh?… Auri-El?… the dragon god gave me to bully the people he presumably sent me to protect… treat people well and with respect regardless of their power level, unless they do something that requires me to kick their ass… um…”
She trailed off, hunching slightly as she lost momentum, then perked back up as she remembered, “Remember the value of people and skills that aren’t like mine… protect people who can’t protect themselves… and never get drunk again.”
“Oh?” His respect had been growing until that last phrase, and now it turned into curiosity and amusement. “I imagine there’s a story behind that last one.”
“Have you ever had to break off an engagement with a hagraven?”
“No,” he replied, laughter bubbling beneath the surface of his tone. “I imagine it’s the kind of mistake you only make once.”
“Yeah.” Her eyes fell. “More importantly than the hagraven, though… someone could have died while my judgment was compromised. As Dragonborn, I have a responsibility to be more careful than that with people who are weaker than me. Akatosh gave me this power, and I have to use it right.”
So this is the newest Dragonborn. She’s certainly different from some of the ones I read about. Less aggressive, more self-controlled, more… despite her profession, more peaceful. She’s certainly no Tiber Septim.
And yet, despite her youth and her lack of pride and military ambition, she was clearly willing to fight for her principles, and to seek the truth rather than blindly cling to the barbaric practices of a past that was best left behind.
Perhaps, with the guidance of an older, more knowledgeable race, her potential could be steered in a better direction. One that would benefit the Aldmeri Dominion, instead of subjugating it like Tiber Septim or flooding it with Daedra like Mankar Camoran.
If superiority does come with responsibility, what better way to show our superiority responsibly than to guide the lesser races toward the truth and their full potential?
The Thalmor have much to offer in exchange for their cooperation and loyalty. Perhaps we simply need to express that reality more convincingly.
“An admirable stance,” he complimented her, and her posture subtly perked toward him. “I will certainly pursue this line of research you have directed me to.
“I consider it my…” a raised eyebrow and a slight smirk emphasized the word, “responsibility to use the Thalmor’s superior knowledge and resources to reveal the truth to the Nords, in such a way that even their stubbornness cannot counter clear reality.
“Thank you again for bringing this to my attention. For now, I must return to my duties. You are free to leave.”
“All right.” She sprang lightly over the arm of her chair, and by the time he’d extracted his legs from beneath the table, she was already standing by the door. Perhaps there was some merit to her odd way of sitting, though he doubted he could ever feel comfortable or dignified in that position.
Her fingers settled on the door handle, then she paused. “I’ll check back in next time I’m in Markarth. I look forward to seeing what you’ve learned.”
“I’ll be expecting you, then. I, too, look forward to our next conversation.”
One last small smile, and then she was gone, slipping through the door and leaving it open for him. As he followed her, he heard her housecarl ask “We heading out?”, and both her voice and his guards’ faces showed subtle relief as their respective leaders arrived to separate them.
They’d probably been staring at each other in awkward silence this whole time.
“Yeah,” Kierska replied, “I was planning to talk to the Jarl about Thonar and the guards he bought. Hopefully this time he’ll actually listen to me.”
Their chatter faded as they strode down the hall, at a pace no doubt designed to cross many swift miles while conserving energy, and Ondolemar took a moment to watch them go.
An unusual meeting, with an unusual traveler. And now he was committed to a line of research he had never expected to pursue. It would likely prove to be an interesting challenge, but he had no doubt that it would end with the Thalmor’s claims confirmed.
He would prove their superiority, one discovery at a time.
Author's note:
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