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Dragonborn Ascendant (11)
🕑 Added 2022-09-29 12:31:30 +0000 UTCFrom Aetherius I am born. Pruzah. And a name I am given. Mirmulnir.
Allegiance.
Strong.
Hunt.
Geh.
Honour the father, Akatosh, who made me in his image, guarding Nirn from the vile interest of the Daedra.
Honour the brother, Alduin, the Firstborn, mightiest amongst the dovah.
And the joor, the joor bow to us. They praise us and serve us as is right. They fear us and envy our power.
As is right.
…
They defy us.
Pahlok.
The joor don’t understand we dovah and our ways, and defy us out of fear and misplaced hatred. They will come to understand in time, when Alduin crushes this rebellion and snuffs out the flame of dissidence.
Pruzah!
…
Paarthurnax! My own brother, gruthiik!
It fills me with indignation and righteous fury, to see thu’um being taught to the joor so they can defy us.
And… and this… ahvakaar they created!
They desecrate the voice! They taint and corrupt the gift father has given us!
Dolok!
Nust fen doj tozein niist ven.
Miini bex…
“Ugh…” And a blearly groan escaped my lips.
I blinked several times feeling nauseous and disoriented for several moments. That dream, those memories… they were not mine. I could remember them as if they were mine, but I knew that to not be true. They… taught me a variety of things. It was still all somewhat jumbled in my mind, but… there were thousands of years of experience now swimming in my head bringing with them knowledge over so many subjects it was hard to even remember all of them; together with new instincts and reactions that settled and came to me subconsciously without me even noticing.
Like how I tensed when I saw an armed woman approaching me, magicka surging imperceptibly to my hands so I could cast a spell at a moment’s notice. Or how my mind conjured a hundred words and stayed them at the tip of my tongue so I could conjure them and shout if there was even so much as a twitch from the woman, or if her heart skipped a beat or if her smell changed even minutely.
I blinked another time, shaking my head and willing the magicka back.
“Who are you?” My voice cracked, and I felt how dry my lips and throat were before I tried to moisten them unsuccessfully.
“I’m Lydia, my lord,” the woman said, kneeling next to me and offering me a jar with a kind smile. It was wine I quickly realised, and I drank greedily from its content before it dried up, my thirst sated for the moment. After offering a quiet thanks the brunette kept with her introduction. “I was appointed as your housecarl by Jarl Balgruuf, although I’m sure he would have much preferred for you. As it stands, however, I am your housecarl, and it is my duty to be by your side.”
“I see,” I nodded somewhat appreciative of her dutifulness. Lydia was a good woman, often the first and only companion many took in the game; a solid and reliable person with a well rounded set of skills. It also didn’t hurt that she was also a pretty woman, dark brown locks falling down to frame that strong face.
My eyes darted around for a moment, and in the subsequent silence I had enough time to figure out where exactly I was.
The air was filled with the smell of burning incense and healing herbs, and light poured from the ceiling, filtered through a number of arching windows; down to the tiled floor where a large cross mosaic rose half a step, the water filling the area between the legs of the cross gently reflecting the sunlight.
“Where is Danica?” I turned back to Lydia after situating myself in the Temple of Kynareth. “Or any of the acolytes for that matter?”
“It’s still quite early, sir,” the housecarl responded kindly, placing the wine jug away. “Some of them are still sleeping and others have barely woken up yet to start their rituals.”
“And yet…” I raised an eyebrow, staring pointedly at the woman.
She shrugged. “I woke up with you, sir.” The housecarl said, and I frowned, something that prompted her to continue. “You were tossing and turning there, speaking something in a weird language.” Then she hesitated for a moment, looking away before following. “I… I admit I asked some about you when I learned I would be pledging myself to you, sire, and… well… the Huntress and the few men that brought you back seem all to agree that you are the Dragonborn. So I was wondering…” She trailed off, eyes not meeting mine.
I blinked.
Was I speaking dovahzul in my dreams?
It… honestly feels like a real possibility.
“I am Dovahkiin, if that’s what you are wondering.” I ended up answering the woman, and she looked at me with confused eyes. “What? If you want to say something then speak up, woman. I can’t dive into your head or divine your questions.”
Yet.
She tilted her head. “Dovahkiin?”
My mouth opened, I paused. She… “Right,” my mouth closed with a click and I shook my head. “You wouldn’t know.” I muttered, though not so low she didn’t manage to catch my words and frown in response. “It’s the word for dragonborn in the dragon’s tongue.” I told the woman, and after a moment she seemed to accept the answer before nodding and falling quiet on my side.
A few hours would come to pass then, enough time for Daniaca and all her acolytes to be well and truly awake, and I had the distinct opportunity to witness some of their rituals and normal proceedings with some curiosity. The priests and acolytes at the Temple of Kynareth would offer a pray to the sky and Kynareth in the morning before truly commencing with their day, some of them moving to produce healing poultices and ointments, others to brew healing potions or potions to cure sickness, disease and many other sorts of more specific ailments. There were some that seemed tasked exclusively with maintaining the temple itself and the facilities. Cleaning, cooking and bookkeeping - I was quite surprised they had to keep track of that - were only a few, and they all highlighted in my mind that running a religious temple of any kind was much more troublesome than I had originally imagined. Still, it was quite interesting to watch..
Eventually, however, as the sun rose firmly above the sky, Danica Pure-Spring, the head priestess at the temple found it fit to let me go after a frankly exhausting number of exams I was put through by her spells. The elderly woman was a master of Restoration through and through, and while she might not have been as learned as a true mage, I was also quite sure there was none with as much knowledge of the body than she. And that showed too just by the sheer number of diagnosys spells she used on me to monitor and assess my condition before ultimately deeming me healthy. Better than healthy even.
“It’s quite scary, frankly,” the grey woman muttered, a frown tugging on her lips as she kept looking at me with strange eyes. “I’ve never seen someone heal so fast in my entire life. Not even the toughest of Orcs.”
“And yet,” she turns. “Here you are, not four days since you scrapped with a dragon of all things looking none the worse for the wear. Better than that actually.”
“And how freaky is that, exactly?” I asked when I finally had a robe on myself, shivering with the cold.
“Very,” Danica grunted. “I saw you being dragged to my temple late in the night, burnt and bleeding, unconscious. I would have written you off as already dead, was it not that redhead’s insistence on healing you, and the Jarl’s own request.” Though she opened a smile. “And who would have thought! You were not dead after all. Just barely alive, but then, semantics…” She waved with her hand. “That aside you are in perfect order, so you are free to go. Though I would be very happy if you returned at some point for me to check on your body. It's… fascinating how well your condition is."
"We will be seeing each other again," I nodded somewhat hesitantly. “These past few adventures taught me to appreciate Restoration, and I’d like you to teach me anything that you can.”
“Oh hoh, that’s quite the nice thing to hear,” the priestess smiled. “And I’m amenable to teaching you… for the right incentive.”
“Right,” I nodded. Greedy woman. “I’ll remember that. Still, thank you for healing and taking care of me.”
"It was nothing, child," Danica waved me away. "I was doing only my duty." She said before I left.
I almost scoffed. Right, I thought, as if Balgruuf didn't pay you a ton of gold to do this.
Outside on the Wind District I was greeted by a sight that, in hindsight, I should have expected. Guards praised me as I walked, and people cheered and whispered wherever I went, being closely guarded by Lydia. There were words I could hear every now and again, things like 'dragonborn', or 'Greybeards', or 'Tiber Septim' and 'Talos' as the eyes of the people followed me. It was only beaten by the atmosphere in Dragonsreach, all the expectant eyes glinting with mysterious lights as they watched me go up the stairs to the jarl.
Balgruuf all but jumped to his feet when he saw me, and though his lips pursed when his eyes landed on Lydia for a second, he opened an infectious smile.
“And here he comes,” the blonde Nord declared with a grin. “Finally back to your feet, eh, Magnus? Or should I call you Dragonborn now?”
“Suit yourself,” I shrugged, smiling in return. “Though I have to say, I was dead tired after that scrap with Mirmulnir. Danica made an excellent job getting me back on my feet.”
“Mirmulnir? You mean the dragon?” I nodded. “Hmm,” he hummed, stroking his beard. “I see… In any case, I’m glad to see you are doing well. More than well if my eyes aren’t deceiving me.”
“What can I say?” I smirked in response, shrugging noncommittally. “Perks of being a demigod, eh?”
“Aye,” the man laughed. “Some of us are lucky indeed!” Said Balgruuf, slapping my shoulder.
It was a testament of just how much more physically strong I was that the action didn’t even shake me when I would have grimaced and grunted if this had happened when I first met the jarl of Whiterun; and felt my shoulder sore for a good long time.
Unfortunately, my good mood didn’t last and the smile on my face faded in time as my expression turned more and more sombre.
“How many died?” I asked in a low voice, jaw set as I watched Balgruuf’s expression turn dark.
A sigh escaped the jarl and he returned to his throne before answering me, voice equally low. “Over thirty men,” he said, and I raised an eyebrow. There weren’t all that many riders when we went.
Seeing my look the blonde pursed his lips before explaining. “I didn’t find myself much confident sending only the twenty of you to the watchtower,” said the jarl. “So I sent more men after you. I couldn’t afford to spare more horses, so they went on foot, and by the time they arrived at the place… Word I hear is that you were a boneless heap flung away from the dragon, the huntress bawling out her eyes upon your dead body.” He said.
“And then I got up,” I breathed.
“And then you got up,” he nodded.
“I see,” a sigh escaped me. It was tragic, certainly, and it did bother me some. If I were stronger, I could have avoided some of these deaths instead of getting injured and almost dying myself. But before I could dwell on those thoughts, Balgruuf snapped me out of them and proceeded in a brighter disposition.
“These men that died have already been honoured with a path to Sovngarde, Magnus,” he said. “They are somewhere better than us now, I’m sure, and we should not mourn them more than they would have wanted to. And since you are now awake, I think it's a good time for the city to commemorate tomorrow as a holiday. Mirmulnir's Slaying Day, I think might be a good name."
And everyone present to hear his decree vocally agreed to the Jarl's words with varying degrees of intensity. I was even surprised to see Proventus supporting the idea. The greying Imperial was always a sensible sort, one that always thought through things and their political and economical ramifications as steward and councillor of Balgruuf. The smile he offered me, while not reverential like the ones coming from the Nords, was still warm and gentle, and he nodded to me, respect clear behind brown eyes.
I could only shake my head in response, an amused huff leaving my lips.
“I can’t really stop you now, can I?” I smiled.
Words in Dovahzul:
Gruthiik = Betrayer.
Dolok = Audacity.
Ahvakaar = Abomination.
Nust fen doj tozein niist ven = They will learn the error of their ways.
Miini bex = My eyes opened.
Comments
It should be called the Temple of Kyne. And it can always do with more donations.
