Here for elder scrolls stuff idk

"House Dagoth is partially Dwemer, too," Voryn said, "A few generations back from me, but there is Dwemer in our blood."

"Oh, really? I had no idea. But...no one talks about your family, if they can help it. What I found out I had to find from your brothers, or the books in their strongholds. I've collected a number of them, but..."

She shook her head. He was talking more nicely now, and that was wonderful, but she was too worried that the nastiness from before would return to be hopeful just yet.

"If Sunnar begins growing beard hairs when she comes of age, then you will have all the proof you need."

"Beard hairs?"

"Female Dwemer had beards, the same as the men did."

Sadara shook her head.

"Now," she said, "Until the Emperor shows, I can't have you going outside without one of us being with you."

"And Sunnar?"

"I don't know how to tell her. I don't know what to say," Sadara said, "She will accept the dragon fixed you, but that you are her father, I don't...I don't know. This is entirely new territory for me. I had never thought even if you did, how I would say it to her."

"Simply tell her, then. My mind was not well, and you did not want to introduce us for fear of what may happen. Now I am safe, and you have nothing to fear."

"After the emperor's visit," Sadara said, "Because if I tell her you're her father, she will go about yelling that she is a Dagoth, before the emperor has had a chance to fix things."

"You are too dedicated to this emperor of yours," Voryn said, with only a hint of an edge in his voice. "And you hold too much faith in what he is able to do."

"He has always dealt with me fairly," Sadara replied. "He has fudged details, perhaps, but when he tells me he means to do something, he does it. When I said I was a loyal servant, I meant it. And I can hear what you're thinking...'would that you could have been so with me,' so you don't need to mention it."

"You know me well."

------------------------

Voryn largely spent his time being questioned by Sunnar over the next few weeks. What was his name, what sweets did he like, why was he so thin, why was he so tall...on and on and on. In return he taught her little things - letters and words in Cyrodiilic, Dunmeris, and Dwemeri. Sadara said he was asking too much of the child but he replied back that Sunnar was a Dagoth and thus in possession of a superior mind.

It was a very dull few weeks, from his point of view, but Sadara saw him somewhat relax at the constant presence of someone who was not afraid of him. Someone actually eager to see him and speak to him, without the weight of...everything.

If he can stay even just this way, it will be enough, she thought. She wouldn't dare hope for more.

Outside trips were very brief. Sadara was fairly closed mouth about her 'husband's' sudden change and said she had tried a new potion that she hoped would work, and that she didn't want to needlessly excite him. That seemed enough for their curiosity - or at least enough to keep them whispering at a distance rather than questioning him directly. He wasn't pleased to see all the Imperials about, but he was at least smart enough to know better than to remark on it in front of them.

He watched. That was the only thing that really made people uncomfortable in the beginning, was how he stared. Sadara could excuse it away with remarks about how he had been isolated due to his sick mind, and she was attempting to accustom him to the outside, and to people.

And to the chapel. They did not question her on that, when she said she prayed to Akatosh for his mind to stay clean and clear as it was now. That much they could explain away.

Then the letter arrived, informing her the emperor was a day away, and that she should be in the chapel, with Voryn, at a certain time tomorrow.

Tomorrow came all too soon. Sadara handed over the shop keys to Ouada, and with a cloaked Voryn at her side slipped down the street in the direction of the chapel.

"I still think this is a waste of time," Voryn said, bringing down the hood once they were inside. "But as you seem determined to parade me in front of him..."

"I am not parading anything," Sadara replied. She sat with him in one of the pews and shut her eyes, mentally whispering a prayer to Akatosh. Asking that this go well, that Voryn did not do anything stupid or violent. That he would let himself be helped.

Even if nothing more happened, it would all be worth it if he would only live in the present instead of the past.

The double doors began to open. In stepped two Blades, who positioned themselves on either side of the door. Two more entered, followed soon after by the slow-paced Emperor.

Sadara stood and bowed as he got closer, and then once the introductory niceties were over, gave a slight, sad smile. "You move as if every bone aches."

"Because it does," Uriel said, giving a similar sort of smile in return.

"I have a potion that could help with that."

"The pain is bearable, my faithful Blade, and I am nearly seventy," Uriel said, "I prefer not to run to potions for every ache or ill."

"After the life you have lead you deserve some ease, my friend. Please, sit. I hear the crackling in your knees even through your robe."

"I would rather stand, and meet this man I have heard so much about. Lord Dagoth, I believe?"

Sadara nudged Voryn, who stood up from the pew to his full height, and looked down at the Emperor.

"Emperor Uriel Septim VII."

"It truly is fascinating to see you in person. Before, all I had was the word of a trusted friend. You seem less godly than I expected."

"Thanks to your dear friend," Voryn replied, keeping his tone at least polite, even if it was coldly so.

"My first question is, what prompted this change of heart? How am I to know that you are not pretending?"

"Because I am the last of my house," Voryn said, "And because I would like to discharge the favor for my life that she granted."

Sadara added nothing, and stared at one of the stained glass windows.

"My house cannot flourish in an attic, and I would not have my child go through life completely fatherless."

"A true Dunmeri answer." The Emperor gave another little smile, and then, in near-perfect Dunmeris, added, "The ancestors must have been pleased."

Voryn stiffened.

"You speak Dunmeris?"

"I have tried to learn a little of all languages in the Empire," came the even reply, "Peace be upon your ancestors."

Voryn stared.

"I am sure you do not wish to repeat what they have said to you, although I may hazard a guess. I am already hearing word being spread by the Dissident Priests about the sins of the Tribunal, and what they did to your family. I can confirm it, and add that your mind is cleansed. But I would extract a promise from here."

"And now we begin to arrive at the truth," Voryn said, though his tone wasn't as cutting now. "You want something in return for this."

"I want something done about Baar Dau. I have not foreseen its fall while I still live, but the Tribunal's power wanes now they are cut off from the Heart of Lorkhan. It can only be a matter of time before it falls and devastates your people. And regardless of what you think of how I have ruled over them, it would benefit no one of the Dunmer to have it crash into the city of Vivec."

"That is all? That is truly all? You do not wish me to prostrate myself and pledge myself to your throne?"

"Certainly not," the Emperor replied, "I should like to have someone around who is brave enough to dislike me. You ruled a Great House, I am told, and no doubt were surrounded with those who did it constantly to gain favor. It is a benefit to have someone dislike you honestly. Swear by Akatosh that you will not raise a hand to harm me, and I will be satisfied."

It was the bitterest sentence Voryn would ever have to utter, Sadara could see it written all over his face. But they stood before the shrine at the end of the room, Voryn with one hand on it, as he did so.

He stumbled at first, nearly saying Auriel instead of Akatosh. But he started over and managed it.

"I swear by Akatosh that I will not attack you in any manner."

The dragon god was listening. Sadara could feel that much. But thankfully there were no words or sudden visions.

"Now that that is out of the way," the Emperor said, "I had the Black Horse Courier print the stories ahead of time. I will be staying the night in Kvatch and have the papers distributed here, as they will be in other cities."

"And what does it say?"

"It tells that you were corrupted by the Heart of Lorkhan, and the light of Akatosh banished the darkness. It adds the sin against your family that the Tribunal committed, and Sadara's role in your rescue. I can't guarantee your safety if you leave Cyrodiil, but this far from Morrowind you should be well enough. Establish House Dagoth again, pay your taxes, make no trouble, and I shall be happy to count you among the citizenry. I am sure a mer of your experience could be a great boon to any city."

There was a pause.

He made a few remarks about how Sunnar was doing, and joking that she would be trouble - at the agree of three, most children were, whether they meant it or not - while wishing Sadara well on raising her with the new pressure of a dynasty. He looked at Voryn then.

"Of all people, I think you understand well that, as well as I do. Having to pass on the name and safeguard it from danger."

"I do," Voryn replied. Tone still cold, but less so.

The worst of it was over, at least. The emperor would be leaving soon, and Voryn would have something to work towards.

It was a start.

-----------------------------

BLIGHTED GOD OF MORROWIND BLESSED BY THE DRAGON!

The infamous and widely feared Dagoth Ur of Morrowind, formerly under the influence of the Heart of Lorkhan, has now been cured of his madness. When asked why he allowed this, His Imperial Majesty Uriel Septim VII declared that Akatosh blessed the blighted Dunmer's recovery.

"In the light of the Nine, all things are possible," His Imperial Majesty went on to say, "Even the most forsaken soul may be pulled from the darkness and into the light. He has been guarded since his departure from Morrowind and I have met him personally...

"He is doing his best, at least," Sadara said, handing the paper to Voryn, "I've had customers asking about you in the last few days. Asking if it's all true."

"Of course you have," he grumbled just slightly, looking down at the paper, "And what have you told them?"

"What I have been told to tell them. It works as long as I do that."

She hated this tension. She had thought that once the process had begun she would feel relieved, but if anything the strain had grown worse. She felt more tired than she had throughout the rest of the process. What was going on?

Deep breath.

She left him at the dining table and went upstairs to retrieve a key, then came back to him.

His hands were still tinted red. She wondered if that would ever fade.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

"Unlocking your bracers. Unless you'd prefer to keep them on for some reason of your own."

Voryn merely turned his hands to allow her better access, and she saw him watching, carefully, as the key turned.

"I do not have to tell you," Sadara said, "What will happen if you waste this chance. But I will mention the idea anyway."

"Did you ever trust me?"

"In fidelity," she replied quietly. Yes, he would never betray his Nerevar, would he? That was the one thing she could guarantee, at that point in time.

Now, she would not lay any claim to his affection, if it still existed. As the bracers fell, she resolved to let him pursue someone else if he wished. There could surely be nothing between them now, after three years of misery. (No matter what Nerevar might have to say about it.)

"There," she said, tucking the bracers into her pocket, "I will keep them locked away, and you won't have to look at them."

Voryn's hands flexed. He clenched them into fists, and then opened them again.

"I didn't think this day would come," he said.

"Neither did I."

---------------------------

He was at the Mages' Guild the very next day. They were almost immediately fascinated by him, but the apprentice of the former Dwemer expert doubted sincerely that his Dwemeri was the real thing.

"If you just knew," the Breton said, "How many people claim to have knowledge of the Dwemer tongue and writing while being complete imbeciles..."

He wrote out a sentence in Dwemer, and then pushed the paper at Voryn.

"You are lucky I do not remove your head for this," Voryn gave a slight growl, "Did I insult YOUR mother?"

"It's the easiest way to tell if you're the real deal. If I hear anything other than threats of violence I know they don't actually have the knowledge they say they do." The Breton nodded briefly, "We've got an extensive collection of Dwemer books that I've been trying to work through. The one who taught me was better at it, had been doing translation for years, but..."

"What are these books, exactly? Where did you get them?"

"Thieves and smugglers, mainly, since it's technically illegal to traffic in Dwemer items, but that never stopped us. We've got a few journals someone's claimed to have belonged to Dumac himself, even, not that I've yet been able to figure it out. He wrote in an absurd sort of code for half of it."

"I knew Dumac," Voryn said, "Let me have a look at it."

In its gaping chest beat the only spot of color here that wasn't a shadow. Red, deep and rich, the color of blood, the color of life.

Beside the body was another, who saw the dragon forming from the man, or mer, or whatever it had been when the shadow made it. The shadow made to eliminate it, calling it words she didn't understand directly, but could tell were terms of disgust and revulsion.

What is this?

A by-product of the creation she'd just seen? A lump that had fallen from the formless body before? Whatever it was, it stumbled, barely moving, and followed the larger dragon.

Ages passed in an instant. The smaller dragon following first that one and then another, growing and watching from the shadows.

What is it?

Weak, a voice called it. Useless, another said. A copy of the true and grand dragon!

It hid behind the red-hearted dragon, who spoke to it in low tones. It left to do...something, she did not know what.

But she knew this: it was waiting for something.

Or someone.

She forgot what she had heard about it, and her last thought before the fog trying to pull her back claimed her entirely was: maybe I was supposed to.

--------------------------

Someone was shaking her.

Sadrith blinked, and shook herself free of the confusion. Her vision had dimmed, but was recovering even as she shook her head free.

It was Voryn.

"Well?" he asked. "Did you see anything?"

"I saw...Lorkhan saying the heart was necessary...he looked right at me," Sadrith said, "I was sure it was him. But then...then I saw...I don't know, the void using its blood to make something..."

An impulse struck her. She put the scroll away neatly, gathered up the artifacts, and rushed off to the Archmage's quarters.

"What are you doing?" he asked, "What--"

"If I tell you, you'll stop me," she said. Or she'd stop herself. Her impulses didn't always lead to bad things, sometimes good things, and right now she had nothing more to go on anyway. She knew she had to take some kind of a chance.

She arranged the items around her in a circle, clumsily drawing circles around them with a stick of chalk she found on one of the tables.

Now. Now, or never.

"What are you doing?" Voryn asked again.

"I don't know. I just--I saw something and I'm going to try it. We're out of options. Are you going to tell me it's stupid and I shouldn't do it?"

She waited, for scolding she was sure was coming. Why can you not plan like someone reasonable? Why can you not do things that make sense.

The admonishments did not come.

"I was going to say this was mad," he said quietly, "But these are mad times. I worry you will destroy yourself."

Sadrith took a shaky breath, and reached into one of her bags for the White Phial.

"What would you say if I told you I considered that an upside?"

"You're shezarrine," he said then, in a voice she found unusually soft. Why did he speak like this? "The world needs you."

"They need the Heart of Lorkhan," Sadrith said quietly, uncorking the bottle, staring into its inky depths, "They don't need me. I'm just...the necessary host. The shell. It should have chosen you a second time."

Silence.

Stop. Before you make a mistake.

Was it her own mind?

You are playing with forces you have no knowledge of.

But I don't know how else to do this, she thought back, tipping up the bottle.

Put the bottle down, child, or someone will get hurt.

When the thick, unpleasant liquid crossed her lips the voice grew angry.

You disobedient fool! Remember, when you look upon the body of the one next to fall, it will be all your fault.

Sadrith's immediate feeling was nausea, her stomach did not at all care for the bitter fluid and wanted to eject it. But she kept drinking, forcing it down like an unpleasant medicine, until the White Phial was completely empty.

"What was that?" Voryn, still close by but outside the circle, asked.

"The blood of Sithis."

No sooner had she said the words than she felt an explosion in her chest. Sadrith fell to her knees, clutching her chest as her heart burned...and burned...pounded against her ribs, seemed to stop--and then began to beat fast, and then faster still.

You are nothing but a collection of parts!

You are not even real!

You only exist because I created you!

Lorkhan's spark, his madness, his order, his warrior spirit, his divinity, his shell and countpart...so many parts...am I here?

The world dimmed.

No. No. I EXIST. I EXIST!

In Sadrith's mind she screamed it. Silence, there was silence all around, inside and outside her. How could she still be fading? What had she done wrong?

You are nothing but a collection of parts!

I AM! she screamed back, And so are they! I AM AND THEY ARE AND--

A fire lit once more, in her chest, in her her blood and bone, in her very mind.

I AM AND WE ARE, BOTH!

The dimming stopped. The light returned to the world, and she saw once more the Archmage's quarters. She scrambled out of the circle, out of the items which seemed suddenly to have crumbled into ash.

Outside. She had to be OUTSIDE.

"Stop!" Voryn called out as he followed her. "Where are you GOING?"

Door, stairs, door. Snow, and chill on the skin.

And far, far above, not a bloody dark sun as she expected (had she?) but an eclipse.

Though not a complete one.

Masser and Secunda...but then, also, the Necromancer's moon, set in place to block the light of Aetherius, and yet one small sliver remained.

One little light amidst the darkness, one shade greyer than the void around it.

A debt repaid by not just a necromancer, but the necromancer, the reason magic, the reason life, was still able to go on in this void-rain.

A single defiance in a sea of death.