Azura's Blessings Upon You

"Just wait, Ayleth," Orvas murmured. "I'll let you talk if they're willing to."

It was a man and a woman who approached them; the man was of middling height, face weathered in an abundance of lines, dark hair pulled back into a low tail. The woman next to him—gods. Ayleth couldn't help but stare. She was not very old yet her face wore the lines of hard living, just as her companion's did. And the color of her hair was one Ayleth had seen every day of her life: like starlight, pulled back into a mess of braids, beads woven through them.

Ayleth watched them, entranced, until they stopped some distance from her and Orvas.

"You. Outsider." The man's accent was thick, and he spoke Dunmeris, not the common tongue. "You leave. Lands are Erabenimsun's. You go."

Orvas glanced back at Ayleth, and nodded. Ayleth stepped out from around Orvas, her hands up.

"We mean you no harm," she said in Velothi, the words thick on her tongue. She hoped they understood her.

Both of the Ashlanders' eyes widened in surprise, and the woman's lips parted.

"You speak our tongue?" the man asked, incredulous.

But the woman was staring at Ayleth like she had seen a ghost. "Kausha?"

Tags: @wannabe-nerevar, @velocitross, @runathequiet

Orvas jerked his head to Galos. "Find supplies. We'll meet at The Pilgrim's Rest."

"Yes, serjo," Galos said, giving a small bow. "Lady Dren." He stalked off, and the crowd parted for him with nervous glances.

Ayleth adjusted the pack on her shoulder. "He'll be able to find the inn?"

"He should," Orvas said, turning back to her. "And if he makes it there before we do, he'll rent our rooms. C'mon."

"Wait, where are we going?"

"To find a…friend," he replied, and Ayleth couldn't help but giggle at his exasperated tone. Other than Niri, she had never met anyone her husband considered a friend; this was going to be very interesting.

Orvas's destination wasn't far—the Armigers Stronghold. Like the Ordinators, Bouyant Armigers were warriors in service to the Temple. Unlike the Ordinators, however, the Armigers served the god Vivec directly. Warriors who sought adventure with song and verse, emulating their Master. "Charming rogues," Ilmeni had once said with a blush and a giggle.

The couple were greeted immediately upon entrance. "My friend!" A Dunmer in glass armor cried, throwing his arms wide. "Orvas Dren, you scoundrel."

Orvas returned with a smirk. "Llondryn. Good to see you again."

Tags: @wannabe-nerevar, @velocitross, @runathequiet

Ayleth pulled away from Orvas, a scowl creasing her face. "You can't stop me from going." Not true, a voice reminded her. He very well could. But her words were firm. She'd see this through, somehow; she would not fail Kausha.

"Wasn't planning on it," Orvas said softly, reaching for her hand again. "But do you think I'd let you go without me? I told you. Where I go, you go. The reverse is the same. Where you go, I go. Especially if it's as dangerous as this."

Her stubbornness melted away at his surprising tenderness. "Thank you." She searched his face; there was nothing but softness there now, and it made her pulse quicken. She felt it all the way in her core, a yearning rising within her.

Tags: @wannabe-nerevar, @velocitross, @runathequiet

Here was the true Necrom. Not the shining city above. So many of her people rested here, the sheer size of the entombed eclipsed only by the older catacombs of Narsis. But unlike Narsis, Necrom had the backing of the Temple. The prestige. Any Dunmer, from the lowliest pauper to the highest king could be buried here—after all, they were all but bones and ash, in the end.

Ayleth followed her escort, saying nothing, taking in the solemnity of her surroundings. Urns lined the walls, and ashpits strewn with bones in alcoves. Grave goods were carefully placed on altars, or surrounding full skeletons laid out on raised slabs. Every once in a while, they would pass a mourner kneeling in contemplation and prayer. And like the city above, the winding corridors were home to the wisps of ghosts and the creaks of bonewalkers.

It was more alive than she had expected.

Tags: @wannabe-nerevar, @velocitross, @runathequiet

The entrance to Necrom was flanked by Ordinators-in-Mourning: an even more solemn counterpart of the regular variety of other Temple cities. Instead of gold and blue armor, these wore white and silver; instead of the severe mask of Saint Nerevar, these masks wept black tears down their faces. The two watched them approach, red eyes shining from behind the masks. Only a touch of suspicion suggested that they were aware of who exactly Orvas was, their gaze tracking him as he walked.

Orvas ignored them, striding through the archway. Ayleth followed her husband's example. But she couldn't help but slip her arm into his nonetheless.

Once in the city proper, everything seemed to go silent and still. The sounds of the ocean were gone; there were no prayers being chanted. The only sounds came from the nonliving: wispy spirits whispering as they floated by, or the groans and creaks of the ceremonial bonewalkers that walked the streets.

It was an eerie and macabre sight to Ayleth. She shivered. For all their protestations against the word, her people practiced necromancy: sacred necromancy, but necromancy nonetheless. Not that she'd say as much to anyone here in Necrom. She had made that mistake, once, when she was young, to a priest in Mournhold, and gotten an earful from that. The memory chased the shiver away, replacing it with amusement, and Ayleth had to hide the small smile that tugged at her lips.

Tags: @wannabe-nerevar, @velocitross, @runathequiet

She didn't meet his gaze, her eyes fixed on her food. Food which she toyed with instead of eating. She shied away from his little touches, or tolerated them with an anguished look on her face. Anguish he felt himself. Not for the same reasons, of course, but because she shut him out. It felt like the light in his life had suddenly disappeared.

Orvas had given her patience at the beginning of their marriage. But it was harder now that he had a taste for her, besotted fool that he was. He still felt ridiculous for his addiction to her: Ayleth's soft skin, her wide eyes that brimmed with emotions she couldn't hide. Except now instead of a mirthful teasing, or breathless desire for him, they only held sorrow.

Did she mourn the slave, or the death of their intimacy? Perhaps both. Orvas was afraid to know which one held more sway over her.

Tags: @wannabe-nerevar, @velocitross, @runathequiet

"Can't the king do anything about it? If not, what good is he?" Omani asked.

Nearly treasonous talk. Ayleth had to resist leaping to her father's defense. Instead she dug her nails into her skirt under the table, biting into the flesh of her thighs beneath the fabric. Sharp words died on her tongue, as bitter and hot as ash.

"Helseth is no fool," Orvas said coldly. He sent a warning glance at Ayleth. "And he is subtle. I can't guess at his plan, but I doubt he'll let it go. In the meantime…" He gave a lazy shrug. "It's good for business."

Smuggling, he meant. His business. Let the Empire tax and squeeze; Orvas Dren would always find a profit in the cracks.

There was no private after-dinner meeting with Ules and Omani like their had been with Orvas's Tong associates. All business had been conducted as they ate, right in front of Ayleth. Perhaps he trusted her. Or they thought the business was cleaner. Either way, Ayleth only spoke when spoken to, and that was just small talk.

But she still listened. And she still noted. There was little to do with the information for now, but it could be useful in the future. For Orvas—or herself.

Tags: @wannabe-nerevar, @velocitross, @runathequiet