#shamat

Shamat stared at the tied up chimer anxiously. Honestly, even though he was currently disarmed and restrained, Shamat was still actively repressing screaming, choking down bile that was bubbling in his throat.

He thought Nerevar was dead. Shamat saw him die. He saw Vivec’s spear ram through his chest, breaking his ribs and piercing his heart. He saw the light fade from his blue eyes. He saw Vivec carry his shrouded body for ascension.

“Why should we believe you?” Kaidan asked, arm firmly wrapped around Shamat’s waist to hold him close and comfort him.

The story Nerevar told was strange. Perhaps even stranger than him coming back from the dead. He was from a world where he found a dragonborn who was also the reincarnation of Voryn Dagoth, and the two got married happily? Shamat couldn’t believe that. Why would any version of himself be happy to be Dagoth Ur, the sharmat, cursed and shunned wherever he went? Not to mention Shamat knew first hand how cruel and controlling Nerevar could be. He still had scars on his back from how viciously Nerevar whipped him.

“I’m telling you all I know.” Nerevar answered, his eyes steady.

“Then why did you grab my husband?” Kaidan questioned. At that, Nerevar’s cheeks flushed as he looked down, embarrassed.

“I genuinely thought he was my husband.” Nerevar answered. “I don’t just make a habit of hugging everyone I see. I was confused and disoriented after ending up here.” Nerevar looked disgruntled now. “Though I was shocked myself to find out this one married you...”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Kaidan raised an eyebrow, annoyed.

“Nothing bad, it’s just...” Nerevar coughed nervously. “I couldn’t imagine my Leilei seeing you like that.”

“Well,” Shamat glared down at him. “I’m not yours.” Shamat hated when Nerevar would call him ‘my Voryn’, stripping him of his identity and trying to possess him. Even thinking about it made his skin crawl, and he worried for this ‘Riiju-Lei’s safety. Was he also kidnapped by the hortator? Did he have Voryn Dagoth’s identity shoved onto him against his will as well? Was he forced to marry the hortator in a rushed ceremony, isolated from everyone he loved?

“No,” Nerevar’s voice was steady. “You’re not.” He replied. “You don’t have the same accent, you both laugh differently, you’re a few inches shorter...” Shamat felt his skin crawl from the level of detail he seemed to have memorized about the other dragonborn. “He also has piercings and you don’t. Not to mention he’s no longer a dunmer but a chimer as well.”

“Look,” Shamat sighed. “You’re going to stay like this until I figure out how to get rid of you.” It felt wrong to just slit his throat when the hortator hadn’t resorted to violence himself.

Nerevar sighed, slumped against the wall. It seemed Kaidan and Shamat were done having ‘fun’ upstairs, the creaking of the bed finally stopping. It was uncomfortable to say the least; Nerevar quickly came to terms with the fact Shamat wasn’t Riiju-lei, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t strange hearing someone that sounded so much like his husband having sex with and moaning out the name of another man. It made him feel uncomfortable a little nauseous.

Lucien and Inigo were taking turns watching him this time, talking quietly while Lucien struggled to stay awake. They were pretty lax all things considered. Nerevar had heard extensively what this world’s version of him was up to and he wasn’t happy about it at all. But given he hadn’t fought his bonds or done anything in particular, there wasn’t a need to hold a blade to his throat every waking hour.

He slumped his head forward, nuzzling into the scarf wrapped around his neck and shoulders, breathing in the scent. He missed Riiju-lei terribly, and he knew the other must be panicked wondering what could have happened to him. He didn’t know what effect he might have being so far away; did Leilei feel hollow without him again? Or did the pain of missing Nerevar now that he knew what it was like to laugh and smile with pure joy hurt him more than words could describe. He gave a shaky sigh, trying to pretend his arms weren’t bound and that he was instead embracing his chimer husband, holding him gently while the two of them fell asleep.

Seeing the hortator seemingly digging around in his scarf though, Inigo raised a brow, patting Lucien’s arm and motioning toward Nerevar. Lucien also raised an eyebrow, before the two approached.

“I do hope for your sake you aren’t hiding anything in there.” Inigo remarked.

“Honestly, he’s been a bit too well behaved for my comfort. I’m starting to get anxious.” Lucien shuddered. “He hasn’t even gone on a long tirade or demanded to see Shamat or anything! I can’t help but feel like he’s planning something...”

“Let me just see what you have in there.” Inigo hesitantly reached for the scarf, and Nerevar felt his anxiety spike.

“Don’t take that!” He suddenly shouted. He hadn’t raised his voice since he got here, trying hard not to make everyone more nervous than they already were, but he couldn’t just sit back and let them take it from him. “I-it’s from Leilei... He gave it to me.” Nerevar buried his nose in it once more. “It smells like him, like the chill and snowberries of Windhelm and lavender in Whiterun...” He could practically trace Leilei’s journey through the scarf, all the little scents the fabric had picked up in Riiju-lei’s life, all of the places he made a home. He could imagine the happy laughter of children if he tried hard enough, and could almost feel Riiju-lei’s arms around him. “Please, don’t take it...” His voice cracked slightly as he bit back tears.

He could survive this if he had the scarf. He could live through the anxiety and uncertainty that he’d ever return home so long as he had the fabric keeping him going and reminding him of his beloved. But if he lost that--lost the comfort of the soft fabric and the scent that grounded him--he didn’t know what he’d do.

Lucien and Inigo looked at each other, before Inigo sighed, his ears going back.

“Alright. but I am watching you, understand?”

“You sure that is a good idea old Indigo?” Lucien asked, using a playful nickname.

“So far he hasn’t made any sudden moves.” Inigo replied as he went back to his seat. “I would also feel bad just ripping things away from a prisoner because I can.” Lucien still looked at Nerevar anxiously, taking in the way tears shined in his eyes and the sadness deep within them. It was possible the hortator was acting, lying and manipulating to get their sympathy, but even Lucien felt like it would be cruel to take that from him.