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Chapter Text

                “Talvas!” Neloth shouted, impatiently tapping his foot on the ashen ground outside of his Solstheim based mushroom tower. This was the third time he had called for his apprentice in the last few minutes, and yet he has not been answered.

                “I heard you! I’m coming!” His apprentice replied distantly, grumbling under his breath immediately after. His voice echoed from around the back of a neighboring mushroom. As he came into view, Neloth noted his dust and ash covered clothes and hair and the sweat dripping on his forehead. He was disheveled in a rogueishly appealing way, about which Neloth had no complaints.

                “What the devil have you been doing back there?” Demanded Neloth, pushing any desires he might have had to the very back of his mind.

                “Th- it was the ash spawn you told me to-“

                “Nevermind. Come upstairs. I must speak with you.” Neloth spun on his heel and trod right back up the slope to the door of Tel Mithryn’s main tower.

                He wants to speak with me? Talvas wracked his brain to think of anything he had done wrong, out of habit. He began walking towards the door when it struck him; it must be about the hot springs… As he slowly opened the door, he thought back to that steam filled, intimate night. He reminisced on how gentle his master had been, how he’d showered him in soft kisses and taken him so eagerly right at the waters edge. All of that tenderness had made Talvas desire to be closer since they had returned home, especially since beforehand, Neloth had admitted to how worried Talvas’ mysterious illness had caused him to become. Unfortunately, Neloth had not reciprocated any closeness since their return, acting as though it was business as usual. Talvas wondered if the whole thing had been a mistake.

                As he floated up the entryway of the tower, Talvas dusted his robes with his hands and readied himself for whatever Neloth had to say.

                “There you are.” The older mer’s voice spoke as sternly as ever as he gestured to an open space between the enchanting tables where he usually had Talvas stand to test a spell on him.

                “Master?” Talvas furrowed his brow, puzzled. “I thought you wished to speak with me.”

                “I do,” he calmly replied. “But I also have just perfected a spell I’ve been working on for at least the last four decades, and I need a test subject. Two birds, one stone, and all.”

                “Well… what do you want to talk about? Is it about the hot springs?”

                “Something like that.” Neloth admitted, as he scanned through his notes. “Ah,” he grumbled, casting candlelight as his eyes hadn’t adjusted to the contrast in brightness between outdoors and indoors. “Anyways, I wanted to hear your thoughts first.”

                Talvas shifted nervously. It had been nearly a month since they had returned and Neloth had thrown himself harder into his research, seemingly to avoid having much contact with his apprentice.

                “M-my thoughts?” Talvas felt warm in the cheeks and ears, and he subconsciously fiddled with a loose strand of his hair. “I… I’m not sure what you mean. Like… what has our relationship become?”

                His master did not speak, but his eyes raised from his notes to stare directly into Talvas’ eyes, his expression leaving no indication of his opinion on the matter.

                “I don’t think…um… I don’t think we should jump into anything. Not right away.” He studied Neloth’s face; still not a hint of approval or otherwise. “That is- I would hate for it to get in the way of my studies. Though I’m not saying it wasn’t… you know… enjoyable. And I guess I wouldn’t be opposed to… I mean, I just want to be sure of my feelings, and yours, I guess. And If you…” he gestured wildly as he spoke, as though physically searching for the right words. This sort of talk was never easy for Talvas; he was far more comfortable discussing academic topics with Neloth and expressing his feelings in other ways, or not at all.

                “Go on,” Neloth urged.

                “Just… that’s all. We should go slow, not make anything of it unless it becomes serious.”

                Neloth nodded, then looked directly back at his notes. “Very well. I think that is reasonable.”

                “… That’s it? Were you going to tell me how you feel about it?”

                “You’ve shared enough for the both of us, I think. Now hold still.”

                As the magicka erupted from his Master’s palm, Talvas ducked in fear, the shot missing him by mere centimeters.

                “Blast, I said hold still boy!” barked Neloth.

                “W-Wait! I don’t even know what you’re casting!” Talvas shook, somewhat terrified that Neloth was going to straight up kill him, either for not reciprocating feelings he didn’t know Neloth had, or for having feelings that Neloth didn’t reciprocate.

                “B’vehk, Talvas, I told you I would not test spells on you if I wasn’t certain you would be just fine after.”

                “Then tell me what the spell is!” demanded the younger mer, still trying to calm his heart rate.

                Neloth huffed in annoyance, lowering his arms. “It is a spell Divayth Fyr and I have been working in tandem to develop. I’m sure you have read his literature on cloning and alteration of genetic material.”

                “Yes… what? What do you mean altering genetic m-“

                “He has three clone daughters, or was it four? Either way, he managed to split the Y chromosome into an X to create female clones of himself. Since then, he has found a sizeable market in the manipulation of gender and physical presentation and we have been developing a spell to temporarily or permanently alter one’s sex.”

                “You… want to turn me into a girl?”

                “It is only temporary; the spell wears off after approximately seven days.”

                “Seven!? You were going to make me a girl for a whole week?”

                “Not necessarily, I am also working on reversing the spell. I assure you it is all very safe. I’ve tested it on living things before. Now for the love of Azura, hold still.” He demanded.

                Talvas had his doubts still, but was hit with the spell before he registered what was happening.

                The next thing Talvas knew, he awoke on the floor of Tel Mithryn, staring up at one of the great mycological veins that he could swear was pulsing. Or was it just his vision? “Aaaugh…” he groaned, sitting upright only to find that the pounding in his head increased as he moved.

                “Good, you’re up.” Neloth spoke from across the room, reclined in a chair and sipping a cup of tea as he jotted down notes. “Now you can tell me how you feel. Any unusual physical sensations? Vision, hearing, smell change?”

                Talvas blearily glanced around the tower, wincing at the brightness of a magelight hovering nearby.

                “My head hurts…” he complained, startled by the lightness of his own voice. “My- my voice! Why is my voice so high?” he felt at his throat, noticing immediately that any stubble he had previously had was gone, and his Adam’s apple was absent, leaving only a very slight bump and the ridges of his trachea in his throat.

                “All effects of the spell working as expected, I assure you. Well, except the head pain. But I suppose a great bodily change involving the realignment of your skeletal and endocrine systems would cause some short-term discomfort.” Neloth explained, rising from his chair to help his apprentice off of the ground. “Let me see, height has remained about the same, only slight changes to the facial structure, breasts have increased in size as predicted; would you mind undressing?”

                “YES, I would mind!!” Talvas blushed angrily. Not that Neloth hadn’t seen him nude before but even Talvas hadn’t seen what his own body looked like in this state. He felt awkward, even ashamed, in some strange way.

                Neloth seemed surprised by Talvas’ rejection. “Why? It’s purely to note the effects of the sp-“

                “I’m not taking anything off in front of you!” Talvas’ anger welled up through the back of his neck and settled in his brain, tears pricking at his eyes. He was upset, not just at being tested on, but at Neloth’s nonchalantness of the entire situation. Still, he felt he was more upset than usual. He was used to Neloth being careless, why did he feel so incredibly fraught with emotion?

                Neloth raised his eyebrows, and began writing more notes. “It seems the sudden influx of female hormones has affected your emotional regulation. They should balance out within a day, though. In the meantime, don’t do anything rash. You essentially just went through a second puberty in a matter of hours.”

                After a moment of smug silence, Neloth was knocked back in pain as a clenched fist made the acquaintance of his jaw.

                “DAGOTH’S B-! WH- TALVAS!” He sputtered in abject shock. Sure, he’d been swung at by apprentices and many others in his time, but no one had ever managed to make contact. He’d let his guard down too much this time, being so self-assured that Talvas would never attack him.

                “YOU DIDN’T ASK ME!” Shrieked Talvas, clenching his aching fist. Neloth was surprisingly sturdy for such an elderly mer. “You didn’t ask me if I would be OKAY with this!” Tears began to stream stubbornly from his eyes. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d cried like this. Wait, yes, he could. Two months into his apprenticeship when Neloth had smacked him in the back of the head and scolded him for heating an alembic over too hot of a flame, which he had tried so incredibly hard to avoid. Or was it the time he’d dropped one of Neloth’s staffs while searching for a satchel of soul gem polish? He’d torn apart two of his own staffs to build a convincing decoy so Neloth would not find out before the shattered one was mended, then Neloth found out anyway and took away his sleeping privileges.

                He shook with abject rage, remembering time and time again that Neloth went too far and brought him to tears. He had never let his master see those tears before, assuming that he would refuse to teach him any further if he witnessed a display of emotion. He thought things had changed since the hot springs. Since they had touched each other, felt one another with such raw intimacy and fascination. Hadn’t that changed them? Were his feelings hurt? That’s why he punished him with this vindictive spell that made him feel so vulnerable? Talvas growled, then threw another punch, which Neloth caught midair.

                “What the blazes are you thinking!?” he roared, pushing his apprentice away and scrambling out of the corner he had unknowingly been knocked into.

                “Why are you not fighting!?” Talvas sobbed, throwing more enraged fists at the man who did this to him. “Why aren’t you trying to stop me!?” He demanded to hear the words from Neloth’s mouth. Because I’m not a threat? Is that why you think you can do whatever you like to me and I won’t fight back? “Is that why you made me a girl!?”

                “T-Talvas, that’s enough!” Neloth faltered back, casting calm on his enraged attacker.

                The hitting stopped immediately, as did the verbal assault. What was left were the tears. Sorrowful sobs fell from Talvas’ lips as he slumped to the floor, face in his hands. Suddenly the anger had vanished, but all that was left was despair.

                Neloth was uncomfortable to say the least. It had been centuries since he had witnessed an emotional display like this one. He froze, considering knocking his apprentice out for a few more hours until the crushing hormonal waves subsided within him. No, he thought, that seems… cowardly. It pained him, though only slightly, to see Talvas suffer like this. Surely Talvas had suffered worse, considering the great pain he’d experienced when infected by the horrid illness he’d recently overcome. Still, this was probably a noteable side effect of the spell. He could not think of any words to alleviate the sadness Talvas felt, as clearly the by-the-book explanation of his symptoms and reactions was not what the younger mer wanted to hear at the moment.

After a painfully long minute of muted sobs and sniffs, Neloth slowly offered Talvas his hand to help him up. Talvas accepted, wiping his sleeve across his dampened face. He couldn’t stop crying, echoes of his voice which didn’t sound like his bothered him further, sending another wave of frustration and sadness through him. He sobbed violently, then gasped as he felt Neloth pull him in to his chest. A… hug? Talvas was so shocked that his sobs halted altogether. Not just by the sudden unexpected display of affection from the man with all the tenderness of a cactus, but also by the sensation of his now rather full breasts pressing against his master. Impulses overtook, and he shoved Neloth away, embarrassed by his own unfamiliar body.

“M-master… I’m sorry I- I didn’t mean to p-“

“Its alright. Its…” Neloth huffed in uncertainty as he straightened out his robes, “…It’s alright.” Despite his assurance, Talvas could tell that there was some pain behind that expression. He would have pried further in Neloth hadn’t immediately straightened up and began to explain Talvas’ options.

“That was the sort of rash behaviour I wanted to avoid, but it can’t be helped, it seems. Are you in any physical pain? I can cast a sleep spell on you for a few hours it you would rather wait out the hormone regulation. Otherwise, you should read or perhaps bathe to calm your mind. In the meantime, I will have Drovas prepare a meal for you.” He explained, already making his way towards the exit.

“I-“ Talvas hesitated. Neloth had never had Drovas prepare food for him before. He usually had to ask for his own, or even cook his own meal if Drovas (or less recently Varona) were otherwise occupied. “My head, it kind of hurts still… Um… yeah, that sounds good. F-food, I mean. And maybe a bath.” His voice trembled as he spoke, but each word felt easier to express than the last. Talvas shuddered at the thought of confronting his new body, but it had to be done at some point, and at least a bath would give him some privacy.

Chapter Text

           Talvas stared at the steam billowing from the Dwemer-forged tub , clinging to the front of his robe with uncertainty. This was the second time Neloth had ever allowed him into his private washroom; generally, Talvas had to bathe in the frigid stream nearby, or travel all the way to Raven Rock to use the washroom at the Retching Netch, which was communal and generally full of large, hairy men and mer. He shuddered at the thought of Mogrul. The way he had leered every time they’d had to share a tub; the orc seemed to have a thing for young, lithe mer like Talvas, and more notably, his henchman Slitter. Talvas had taken to paying Teldryn Sero to keep an eye on Mogrul while he bathed, preferably keeping the orc out of the baths altogether until he was finished.

           He needn’t worry about the orc here, obviously. The thought of anyone seeing him like this made him sick. He felt faint and achy, thrown off by the change in his center of balance caused by his altered body as well as the overwhelming new hormones that surged through his veins. He felt like an awkward teenager again; a sensation he’d hoped never to rediscover. It was time for him to face his new form, though, and the hot water did look awfully enticing. He slowly untied his belt, letting his robes fall slack so he could simply shake them off.

           “Whoa…” he whispered, staring at his own breasts. They weren’t particularly big, but the fact that there was any volume there at all was so foreign to him. He peered downward and immediately felt a sense of dread at the absence of his cock. Did he dare feel around? No, he shook his head and stepped out of his clothes. His hips ached quite a bit, the bones of his pelvis having been forced farther apart in such a short amount of time. A single sob fell from his lips as he shut his eyes. He couldn’t wait for this to be over; to have his own body back. After only a second of self-pity, he straightened up, and stepped out of his clothes, kicking them to the corner of the mush-room, and stepped into the bath.

            Lost in thought, Talvas sunk into the hot water up to his mouth, allowing only the top half of his head and knees to poke out. It felt very nice. Extremely nice, he mused. It eased the pain in his shifted joints, and send shivers of warmth through his body. He couldn’t help but be reminded of the Hot Springs in Skyrim. Without the overwhelming scent of sweet spriggan sap, he did not experience the painfully urgent desire he’d felt there, but thinking of the events that had transpired sent a strange sensation ripping through his core. Talvas gasped quietly, sitting up a bit farther and shaking the thoughts from his mind. He was still angry with Neloth, he didn’t need his body betraying him and craving the old sadist’s touch. But… the feeling was so different than how he usually experienced arousal. It started with the same tingling in his spine, but shot deep within his core and caused his muscles to contract. Muscles he wasn’t sure he had before, or if he did, they hadn’t felt as prominent as they did now.

           Talvas shuddered; he felt like an animal being studied by his own disembodied conscience. Talvas had seldom been interested in women, so he was unsure of his feeling about seeing one nude for the first time since he had stopped bathing in the woman’s bathhouse with his mother at the age of eight. He remembered the burgeoning feeling of pride and masculinity when he was finally old enough to go into the men’s bath house unaccompanied. Other boys his age had fathers around to supervise and therefore hadn’t dealt with the shame and jealousy of being the only boy in a room full of girls and women. Of course, adults had been sympathetic, seeing as his father was a Redoran Guard who had been killed by reavers when Talvas was very young. Children, on the other hand, were incredibly cruel. As if having to bathe in the girl’s bath weren’t enough, he also developed a slender, feminine face and delicate features as he got older. He felt somewhat vindicated in school when he learned about the Tribunal and the duality of Vivec, being both male and female and being a living god, but most of the other children did not feel the same. The worst of their harassment came when he’d let slip to a friend that he found himself more attracted to boys than he did girls.

           Talvas shook his head, feeling more tears rolling down his cheeks.  He had not thought about his childhood in years, and now memories of practicing making “masculine” faces in the mirror (which really just made him look angry and sour), getting teased and beaten up by his peers, and crying to his mother, came flooding back. He remembered why he craved the power Neloth had; he wanted respect. He wanted to be as highly regarded and feared as the Telvanni wizards that strode through town with entourages, adorned with riches with noses held high. They sold enchantments and potions that Talvas could never hope to afford that could change one’s appearance at the bazaars, and no one dared steal from them on pain of death, or worse.

When Talvas was nearing twenty, his mother lost her job as a seamstress and moved them to Raven Rock as they could no longer afford to live in Blacklight. Happy to be away from his childhood aggressors, he still despised the drudgery of living in such a small town in the ashen wastes, and was thrilled years later when he saw a Telvanni master in his wretched corner of the world. Neloth had stood out from the rest of the crowd. He held his head high and moved with such ease and grace, defying his apparent age. He was immaculately styled with golden piercings and a well-groomed, pointed beard, and his robes were so perfectly fitted and high quality, Talvas couldn’t help but find him somewhat attractive. He chalked that up to his admiration for House Telvanni as a whole. Everyone cleared a path for Neloth, murmuring rumors about what he’d done to a shopkeeper who had tried to swindle him. Talvas had felt a surge of excitement and envy seeing how even the guards kept a wide berth, and everyone in his path tried to appease him out of fear.

After years and years of begging Neloth for an apprenticeship every time he saw him passing through town, Talvas had given up hope, when Neloth approached him at the Alchemists stand. The event was burned into Talvas’ memory.

“You there, boy.” Neloth called from a distance as Talvas studied the wares at the alchemy stand. At first, he did not turn, expecting Neloth to be scolding some other young man for standing in his way. “I’m speaking to you, boy. You wouldn’t leave me alone for years and now you pretend not to hear?”

At that, Talvas turned. “Me? Uh, that is, me, serjo?”

“Yes you, I came to tell you I have an opening for a new apprentice. I seem to recall you were interested in such an opportunity?”

          “Y-yes! Yes, of course! I-“

           “Excellent. My staff is occupied at the moment so I had to come seek you out myself, annoyingly, so I have no time to waste. Follow me to my tower and we can get started right away. I have some staves that need testing.”

           “Wait, right now? I need to gather my things-“

           “Nonsense. My last apprentice left behind everything you could possibly need. Now come, we shall make haste as I have many important experiments to test before the sun sets.”

           Since then, Talvas had pondered time and time again if he had made the right decision.

Chapter Text

         Neloth stood arched over his enchanting table, focused only halfway on the staff he was working on. Though already enchanted, the staff had a structural defect that affected its usefulness. It should have been a simple fix, but the old mer was struggling to concentrate on the task at hand. Talvas had managed to do damage when he’d punched him, but the pain in his jaw was already subsiding. He was in a mild state of shock just from how sheerly unexpected the impact was, and at the outburst of emotion from his young apprentice.

          As Neloth imbued a bit of magicka into the staff, it reacted by emitting a violet glow which turned blue as it emitted a small shock.

          “Ach, blasted thing.” Grumbled the wizard, shaking the pain of mild electrocution from his hand. In a huff, he abandoned the table and staff and began pacing around his tower. Talvas was within the base of the tower, using Neloth’s usually private Dwemer bath, lifted directly from the ruins of Nchardak. Many of his apprentices hadn’t even been aware of its existence, and yet he let Talvas use it alone, which perturbed him as he thought about it. What made this boy so special? Why was he letting his guard down enough to be attacked by his underling, then rewarding him for it?

          “It’s not his fault, it’s the effect of the spell.” He reasoned. Otherwise, he would have reacted in his usual manner and retaliated the attack tenfold. Neloth glanced over at the staff he’d left on the table. The crack in it was from hitting Talvas over the head with it, an incident which had left the boy angry and disoriented for a few hours.

          “Why do you think I hit you with the staff, Fathryon?”

          “I don’t KNOW, master.” Talvas replied through gritted teeth, seeing stars and clearly furious.

          “If you are distractable enough to mess up such a SIMPLE conjuration, perhaps you are not fit for apprenticeship after all.”

          “I’m sorry master…” he tried to hide his fury, but his voice shook as he spoke. “I can do it. Just let me try again. Please.”

          He proceeded to attempt to summon the atronach once again, but the pain at the back of his skull made him sway and stumble, so it failed once again.

          Realizing his mistake, Neloth halted Talvas’ second attempt. “Enough.”

         “Master, please! I-“

         “Study the text. Try again tomorrow.”

          While Talvas slept that night, Neloth cast a restoration spell on him that was particularly useful for concussions.

           The staff was broken because of his own outburst of frustration which had come at Talvas’ expense. Moments of self-reflection were uncommon in Neloth’s life because they often filled him with a hot and uncomfortable shame which he tried to avoid. Besides, his own mentors; even his own MOTHER, had treated him the same, and as he saw it, that made him into one of the most powerful mages on Tamriel. If his apprentices weren’t up to the task, they were free to leave, and indeed some had. Of course, there was the apprentice who had doused himself in fire salts and self-immolated in his old tower. Neloth, having seen the whole thing, had nightmares about it for weeks, though in the daylight he acted as indifferent as possible while he traveled to Solstheim with a sapling (or rather mush-ling) that would become Tel Mithryn.

Shaking the thought from his head, he paused his pacing to ground himself in his immediate surroundings. The spot he stood was exactly where he stood to test spells on test subjects, and exactly where he’d just cast the gender altering spell on Talvas. He remembered that it had missed the first time.

“Better at lease check the impact point.” There was very little possibility of it affecting his tower. Fungi, after all, had so many sex variants that mer and men chromosomal changes most likely would not have even the slightest effect on the tower. However, as her drew closer, he did notice an abnormality.

“What on Nirn… ELYNEA!” He called out immediately to his mycologist. It most likely wasn’t urgent, but anything mycological was Elynea Mothren’s responsibility.

A few more shouts later, Elynea finally levitated up the tower’s entryway.

“By Azura’s ears I heard you already! What is it?” She stated in irritation, brushing off the front of her dress.

“Look.” Neloth pointed to a strange aberration on the towers wall; a spot of rot that certainly hadn’t been there the day before.

                “My my, that does not look good. Actually,” she stepped back, gazing at the floor where she just stood, “this spot of ground feels a bit soft as well, perhaps the mushroom is lacking something.” She began making her way around the whole interior, checking the integrity. “It’s not just that spot, it seems to be spread throughout. Have you done anything to it?”

                “Of course not!” there is ABSOLUTELY no way that spell could have caused this. Though, how did it happen so quickly?

                “How could this have happened so quickly?” Elynea echoed Neloth’s thoughts.

                “That’s your job to discern.” Neloth huffed.

                Elynea rolled her eyes. “I’ll run some tests. You tell me if anything changes in the meantime. Where is Master Fathryon?”

                “He’s busy. If you see him, do not bother him. But if you could, tell Drovas to bring Varona’s old things up here.”

                While Elynea spent the next hour or so surveying the tower inside and out, Neloth sat anxiously, drumming his fingers against the bin of Varona’s old clothes which Drovas had just delivered, before being sent to fetch more tea. He didn’t need this right now; so many thoughts swam through his head from just the past five hours alone. Perhaps his own apprentice was not the best test subject for this particular spell, and perhaps he should not have lied to Talvas about him not being the first experimental subject. Even more so, why did he have to ask about the hot springs incident right beforehand?

                By Boethiah’s fury, what on earth did I have to bring it up for? And more importantly, what did Talvas’ response mean? “Though I’m not saying it wasn’t… you know… enjoyable. And I guess I wouldn’t be opposed to…” Opposed to what, exactly? Becoming romantically involved? Or simply having sex again? Why in Mara’s accursed name does this keep happening?

                Before Talvas had been Ildari. An incredibly bright young woman with no qualms about fighting back. Tenacious, and harboring an otherworldly amount of focus and drive, she challenged Neloth in more ways than one. He was not used to having his underlings so involved in his research.

                Neloth is vain, but in his opinion, not unjustly so. Any scholar of magic in Tamriel could tell you that the mage-lords of House Telvanni are some of the most learned and powerful, possibly second only to the Psijic monks. Maybe. Neloth was fairly certain that he’d be able to take on at least Mannimarco, were he still around. However, Telvanni were known to gatekeep their knowledge of the arcane because it toed the line into obscenity. Ildari seemed a good candidate to inherit the prestige at first, but she quickly became unstable and dangerous. Neloth had overlooked the risk for too long because they became involved. Once a screaming match devolved into unrelenting passion, she became important to him, and that led to her ultimate demise when she tried to become a malevolent god.

                How could I be so STUPID to let that happen again?

                “Master Neloth, I’ve found the source of the tower’s withering.”

                Neloth spun in surprise. So deep in though was he that he hadn’t heard Elynea float in. He cleared his throat, “yes, well? Out with it, woman.”

                “Seems the ash spawn attacks are more organized and precise than usual, and they just so happen to be hitting the same places each time. The damage is so deep that its causing structural defects. Further corrosion could eventually lead to your tower toppling. There is a cure if you can get some taproot soaked in fresh glacial water. Fresh as in only just having melted seconds before.”

                “Well, I’m sure you’ll find some on the north end of the island. You’d better be off soon; if the house falls, you’re out of the job.”

                “Me!?” Elynea’s disbelief grated Neloth’s ears. “Send Fathryon, this is a job for a young man, not a frail old woman!”

                “Talvas is busy, I’ve told you. Hopefully you can find someone else in time. Try asking around Raven Rock, I’m sure some Redoran grunt will take pity on you.”

                The old woman scoffed, but turned away presumably following instruction. Neloth sat in relative silence, eyeing the decaying veins of his tower. He would have to address the issue with Talvas as well to see that he avoided doing further damage.

                After quite some time spent reviewing texts and casting some spells to solidify what parts of the tower he could reinforce, Neloth became frustrated that he still stood alone in his workspace. Surely Talvas had finished bathing by now, and where on Nirn was Drovas? He expected the man to have tea ready about every three hours, but here he was, throat dry, and getting rather peckish. Neloth dropped his texts and quill on a nearby table and stormed down to the doorway. The relatively cold night air of Solstheim offered the only greeting to be had outside of his tower. The wind fluttered the moss hanging from nearby megafungi, and nary a man, mer, or animal could be heard or seen for miles.

              Neloth sighed in frustration. He noted that the lights to the stewards tower were extinguished, either meaning that Droves was absent or sleeping. “Lazy s’wit…” muttered Neloth. He would deal with the man later, right now he was going to check on a more pressing matter. Around the back of the tower was a Dwemer door, hidden behind an enchantment which blended it into the surroundings until the searcher were about a foot away. The doors lock clunked as he magically manipulated the mechanism which he designed to only be unlocked by a magic user who was aware of how it was put together. Perhaps a bit overkill for a simple bath, but there was next to nothing more that Neloth despised more than being interrupted during his ablutions.

                He pushed the metal frame of the door which creaked and groaned, perhaps hoping the sound alone would illicit a response from his apprentice. Nothing but a hollow echo from the door followed, so he called out.

                “Talvas!” His voice echoed back to him, but was followed by silence. Suspicion creeped in as he opened the door further to note that this room too was void of light except for the pale blue glow of the Mycena Clorophos that grew in small planters around the edges of the room. Neloths foot splashed in a small puddle, which most likely was left behind by Talvas, who was nowhere to be found. He cast candlelight and searched the room. The basin itself was still full and warm (as the Dwemer mechanized heater kept it that way) but the wooden buckets in the corner used to wash before submersion were tipped over and a fragrant cleansing serum bottle lay shattered on the floor. Clear signs of either struggle or frustration. Neloth cursed to himself. The first time he let Talvas use his private bath and the boy makes a mess of it and disappears. He stormed back out of the door, locking the mechanism behind him, and called out in anger this time. “TALVAS!”

                “Oi!” Drovas, who had been lounging on the step just around the other side of the tower, shouted in irritation.

                Grumbling, Neloth followed the voice and confronted his steward. “And just where have you been? I’m not paying you to sleep all day and shirk your duties!”

                “I haven’t been sleeping, Master Neloth, I been escortin’ your poorly apprentice across the damned ash wastes! By the way, lovely spell that. Could make the breasts a bit bigger though.” Drovas chuckled to himself.

                “You’re saying Talvas LEFT? In that condition!?”

                “A-course! He told me you’d sent him to pick up a shipment on Raven Rock an’ he’d be brought back by the merc that ‘angs out at the Netch.”

                “I did no such thing. He shouldn’t be leaving before the spell wears off, I need to make note of every effect it has on him.”

                “Well, he don’t seem too pleased with you right now. I’d leave ‘im be if I was you. If the tears and curses was anything to go by he’s happy to have some distance right now. I asked ‘im if he’d prefer I call ‘im ‘she’ but ‘e stared daggers at me at my mention of it. He’s not too happy as a girl, I take it.”

                Neloth felt like electrocuting the man, but couldn’t justify it on the off chance he’d die or leave. He groaned in anger, pinching the bridge of his nose to stave off an imminent headache. “Well, fine, whatever. If he’s not back by tomorrow I will be sending you to recover him. Now bring me my damned tea or I’ll have you sleep out here.”

                Unbeknownst to either mer, Talvas had no intention of staying the night in Raven Rock. At the moment of their conversation, he was handing a sack of gold to Captain Gjalund who agreed to sail him back to Skyrim for an indefinite stay.

Chapter Text

It had been quite a rocky journey to Skyrim once again, but Talvas had expected as much. At least this time, the waves crashing against the boat did not exacerbate the symptoms of a terrible illness, but they made him shudder all the same. He was not a fan of the sea, finding it far too unpredictable and uncontrollable. Try as he might have, he also had never been a great swimmer. Sure, he enjoyed wading through calmer, shallower, WARMER waters, but the icy sea offered no amnesty to land dwelling intruders.

                The sea calmed as they drifted into an icy inlet, greeted by sparse lighting of a city surrounded by stone walls. “Windhelm ahead, prepare to dock!” called one of the nord sailors who Talvas couldn’t be bothered to learn the name of. Talvas drew his hood over his head, nodding to the captain as he prepared to disembark. Gjalund gestured over to him to share a word.

                “Yes?” Talvas murmured to the man.

                “Have you been to Windhelm before? I try to give all my dark elf passengers fair warning before they visit for the first time, it is not a friendly city to your kind.”

                “I’m well aware.”

                “Ah, good. Wouldn’t want a pretty thing like you going in there and getting hurt is all.”

                Pretty?? Talvas simply nodded, drawing back from the man in discomfort. The compliment hadn’t made his skin crawl in the same way that Mogrul’s comments would, but it was an unwelcomed reminder of his state of affairs.

                “Well, good luck to ya, miss. All departing for Windhelm!” he called down below deck, in case any other travelers were unaware. Talvas stepped off the boat and sturdied himself for his short trip through Windhelm. He did not plan on hanging around in the city.

                Somehow, within the walls of the city there was even more of a chill than outside. Save for about a seven foot radius around any torch or pyre, the stone ground felt as though it were made of pure ice. His fingers ached, the tips of his ears were numb, and he wanted nothing more than to climb into a soft, warm bed. Originally, he had planned to head straight to the College of Winterhold to find his friend the Archmage and implore her for sanctuary until his body turns right, but making his way alone in the Nordic tundra sounded like a disastrous plan. He had to find a place to stop for the night, and he knew Candlehearth hall was not an option. In his fevered daze of his last visit, he seemed to recall that Neloth had forced his way into the inn and gotten the Dark Brotherhood after him. It was sheer luck that Neloth and he were acquainted with the assassin and she had refused to honor the contract, but Talvas was unconvinced that would happen again.

                The grey quarter would probably be a safer bet. Finding it within the labyrinthian streets would prove difficult, though. He peered around corners, ducking at the sight of any nord approaching, though few were on the street at this time of night. In one alley he saw one seemingly homeless man asleep in rags, though as he drew closer, he realized the man may not have been sleeping, but rather stone dead and frozen in place. Talvas shuddered; no wonder Neloth had shown such disdain for this city. At long last, he turned a corner and found a staircase to a warmly lit alleyway adorned with bunting which featured wind-battered flags of several of the great Dunmer houses. He was actually a bit surprised to see the sigil of house Telvanni among them, hung between house Hlaalu and house Redoran. The Red Year had been difficult for all of Morrowind; perhaps they had found greater comfort in their countrymer when forced to evacuate, regardless of past tribal squabbling.

                “Not safe to be out here so late.” A hushed voice tore Talvas from his musings, and he quickly found it’s source. “You’d better get inside somewhere. The butcher hasn’t gotten one of us yet, but let’s not give him the chance.” The dunmer woman warned from her window, peering at Talvas from above.

                “I- yeah I should… do you know if there’s an inn here? Er, safe for dunmer, that is.” Talvas agreed, cringing at his still unfamiliar voice.

                “No inn, but check the New Gnisis Cornerclub. Ambarys may have a spare bedroll. I’d invite you here but we got no room I’m afraid.”

                “Thanks anyway.” Talvas waved as the woman shut her window and the latch clicked. The cornerclub was easy to find, luckily, as the Grey quarter was quite sparse. As he entered, he was swiftly greeted by the sleepy-looking mer behind the counter.

                “Welcome, sera. What brings a lovely lady like you here so late?”

                Eugh. Though Talvas did find the man behind the counter a bit attractive, he still detested being addressed with flirtation. “I need a place to stay for the night. Someone pointed me to this place.”

                “Of course, of course. We got no bedrolls free at the moment, but I’m sure I can cobble together something comfortable.”

                Ambarys was as good as his word, having prepared a few hides and blankets in a corner of the backroom. Honestly, it looked about as comfortable as the bedroll Neloth had Talvas sleeping in until recently when he FINALLY allowed him a real bed.

                “Thanks, what do I owe you?” Talvas inquired, stifling a yawn.

                “Eh, tell you what, you buy a good meal and a nice drink, I’ll let you stay free tonight.”

                Talvas agreed, and though grateful for the kindness, he still was working terribly hard to batter back a wave of emotion that kept trying to bring him to tears. As he sat at the bar and watched the mer before him prepare a hot bowl of soup, he clenched his fists and tried to think of anything except Neloth. Part of him wanted to go back and apologize, and bare whatever punishment Neloth may have as it was at least safer than traveling alone in a foreign land. Another part of him secretly hoped Neloth would be so distraught at his absence that he would find him and beg from Talvas to return to him, though that seemed highly unlikely.

                “Something on your mind?” interrupted Ambarys, sliding a bottle of sujamma across the bar.

                Talvas sighed, steeling himself. “No. Just tired.”

                “Quite a bit of ash in your hair. I take it you’ve just come over from Solstheim?”

                “yeah.”

The silence which followed lasted a bit too long for Ambarys’ comfort. “Not in the mood to talk, eh?”

                “Not really. Sorry. Its been a rough day.” Though true, this wasn’t the whole truth. Talvas was not terribly used to people asking him anything about himself except in a purely objective, clinical manner. In other words, he was only used to talking to Neloth. When people approached him with warmth and genuine friendly curiosity, it felt unnatural to him.

                “No need to trouble yourself sera. Why don’t I leave you to enjoy your meal, then let yourself into the back room to sleep when you’re ready. I’ll be heading to bed soon, but my assistant can help you with anything else you need.”

                “I… thanks. I really appreciate all this.” Stuttered Talvas, not wanting to seem rude to the man who had just given him a bed, no questions asked.

                Ambarys smiled, then turned to head up a narrow staircase, leaving Talvas alone with the other mer, Ambary’s assistant, who was far too engrossed in his book to pay any mind to Talvas.

                Talvas slept quite heavily that night, after silently shedding more tears than he thought his body capable of producing. The next morning, he had quite a headache. Ambarys was kind enough to offer him plenty of water before he began his journey to Winterhold, which at the time seemed like a godsend. It wasn’t until that water passed through him that he realized he was going to have to figure out how to urinate with a completely different setup down there, and he cursed himself for not having stuck with the headache instead.

                Winterhold was abominable, in Talvas’ opinion. Upon arrival via horse-drawn carriage, a blizzard had descended upon the ruins of the town, and the college itself was completely obscured by the storm. The carriage driver was kind enough to take Talvas right up to the entrance to the bridge, but left as soon as the mer departed, also not keen on hanging around in the storm. Crossing the bridge, however, was far more nerve-wracking than Talvas had ever expected. It was coated in ice and missing large chunks of the siding, leaving one dangerously prone to falling to their death. Talvas had learned some levitation spells, but was not confident in his abilities to cast them while hurdling towards the rocky ocean below. His palms were sweating and freezing at the same time as he inched his way along, praying to Azura that his death would at least be instant and painless in the likely occurrence that the slips right into Oblivion's waiting arms.

                “Stop! You there!”

                Gaze jerking forwards towards the voice, Talvas froze. Though obfuscated by the blizzard, he could make out the vague outline of a very tall woman with a distinct up-do standing before him.

                “Unless you have business with the college, begone!”

                “Wait, please! I’m here to see Archmage Sirene!”

                “I have not heard that she is expecting a visitor, state your business!”

                “C-could I state is somewhere aside from a miserably windy f-frozen bridge?!” argued Talvas, beginning to feel numbness creep in to all of his extremities.

                “Uuugh, fine. Here,” the woman cast an odd spell which solidified the ground before him into a surface with far more traction than a sheet of ice. They both quickly made their way to the college side of the bridge and to the relative cover of the courtyard. Though still bitterly cold, at least they were more sheltered from the wind out here.

                “Speak.” The woman, now discernible as a young Altmer woman dressed in apprentice robes, commanded.

                “Could you t-tell the Archmage Talvas Fathry-yon has come to visit her? Tell her i-it’s … tell her its about N-Neloth.”

                The woman raised an eyebrow. “I shall let her know, though I will have you remain out here under the watch of our Thalmor advisor, so don’t get any ideas.”

                Thalmor advisor? Sirene had told me the colleges advisor was dead. He shifted nervously, shivering in the cold.

                “…Fine, fine. Yes, I’ll watch her.” An unmistakably dressed Thalmor agent stepped out, looking as miserable to be out in the cold as Talvas was at the moment. “Don’t get any ideas, dunmer. I don’t want to be out in this dreadful weather long. Ugh…” the tall, strikingly handsome man spoke. It was not often that Talvas met a member of the Thalmor as Morrowind had kept them out for as long as he could remember, but they always seemed so neat and tidy, with strong jawlines and pressed uniforms.

                “Uhm, I… s-sorry to ask, but I thought the Thalmor advisor here uh, van-nished in that Eye of Magnus in-ncident?”

                “Yes, yes he did, that useless idiot. That was Ancano. I’ve only just arrived here about ten moons ago. Honestly, I was the commander of the Thalmor in Markarth and that soggy bitch Elenwen has the nerve to station me all the way up here in the frozen college of Winter’s arsehole.”

                “So… not t-too happy about the reassignment?” He spoke through his uncontrollable shivers.

                “It was meant as a punishment, so no. I don’t even want to be stationed in Skyrim; I’d much rather be back home with… ugh, nevermind. It’s not important. Anyway, what brings a dunmer out to this frozen wasteland?”

                “I’m a f-friend of the Archm-mage.”

                “Ah, speak of the Daedra, here she comes.” The Thalmor officer introduced as the doors swung open and Sirene emerged. “I’m going inside.” He grumbled.

                “Thank you Ondolemar." Sirene nodded. "Talvas! Er… Talvas? Is that Talvas?”

                “N-Neloth, uh, t-turned me into this. C-can I come in?”

                “Of course! Of course, I mean it definitely looks like you just… a lot more… yes, come in! Sorry, you took me off guard.” The Imperial woman invited him in and brought him straight up to her quarters to warm up before the fire. Talvas immediately told her the entire situation, and profusely apologized for showing up unannounced.

                “That’s quite all right! I’m so sorry he did that… I mean, I’m a bit shocked. He seemed so… caring with you last time. Did that… did he… what happened after we left the Springs?”

                A deep violet blush crept into Talvas’ cheeks as he remembered what happened after Sirene and Teldryn departed.

                “Well, he was very, uh…. We… I really thought he had changed. I… don’t really want to get into details here but… Well, once we got back to Tel Mithryn it was like business as usual. As if nothing happened, until…”

                Sirene had covered her mouth wide eyed and sat rigid in her chair, as though watching the climax of a dramatic play.

                “…what?” Talvas nervously murmured.

                “Sorry I just…. Did he come on to you?”

                “Well, I don’t think I could call it that, I mean we kind of… came on to each other… it seemed very mutual and those damned springs didn’t help-”

                “Did you… you know…fuck?”

                “Sirene!” he squeaked, blushing ever harder. “I mean…that’s not why-“

                Sirene had to pry the shocked, wide-eyed grin off of her face. “I am SO sorry, that was not appropriate, I just thought I had been sensing that sort of thing from him, and Teldryn told me something Neloth said while you were in a coma and I just… sorry! Sorry, now is NOT the time to blabber on about that. But you’ve come to me for help and here I am just-“

                She stopped abruptly when a sob erupted from Talvas, as he buried his face in his hands.

”Oh Talvas… I’m sorry, I didn’t mean-“

“I fucking hate him right now.” He took a deep, stabilizing breath, “And THIS,” he gestured to his body, “was just so invasive and… I…” his feminine voice cracked as more tears welled up in his eyes, spilling over to his cheeks.

                Sirene’s face fell into almost a motherly concern. “I’m sorry, come here,” she reached her hand to her friend’s knee as a gesture of comfort as Talvas collapsed into his own hands to cover his sobbing. He dropped one hand down to cover hers, and soon enough she’d sat down next to him and pulled him onto her shoulder as he wept.

“I will do everything I can to help you, just tell me what you need.” Sirene assured, though she pondered whether or not Neloth would take action, knowing that she had no chance to take him on if the situation devolved.

Chapter Text

                When the third day without Talvas came, Neloth had gone through denial about his feelings towards Talvas’ absence, followed by anger at him for leaving, and had landed squarely on quiet panic that he may be dead. It was this that led him to the stewards lodgings to rant at Ulves and Drovas about how they needed to go find Talvas and bring him back, which they were not to keen to do. Due to Elynea’s prior refusal to travel across Solstheim and her frail frame, he was not interested in approaching her on the topic. It was clear that if he wanted Talvas back, he would have to find him on his own. He was far too distracted to continue his work anyway, and the tower had been decaying at an accelerated rate, producing a rather unpleasant musty smell. Elynea and Drovas worked together to repair the decayed bits, but more seemed to pop up every day and they were impossible to get ahead of.

                “I’m leaving Tel Mithryn in YOUR hands for a few days. Should it fall on your watch, your employment shall be terminated and I will ship you back to Vvardenfell on your own coin.”

                The three remaining servants nodded, surprised at the lack of severity of Neloth’s threat. Elynea, still frustrated about the mushrooms decay, spoke up.

                “And what are we going to about resolving the root cause? It's been MONTHS and I still need a taproot and some-“

                “I will DEAL with it later! Now get back to work before I sell your sorry hide to the next caravan that comes through Raven Rock!”

                The servants all turned to resume patching the gash in the mushroom as Neloth stormed off, pulling his scarf over his mouth and nose to keep ash and dust out. He figured Talvas would have stayed the night in Raven Rock and possibly departed to Skyrim or Morrowind, he could not be sure which. He nearly turned back four or five times before he had even lost sight of his tower, grumbling that the idiotic whims of his apprentices are not worth hunting them down over. He’d felt the same with Ildari once when she had disappeared for a few days, months after they had first become romantically entangled, but decided against the hassle. She returned anyway, claiming she had been sick and didn’t want to trouble him. He did not feel the need to ask questions because Elynea and Varona corroborated her story.

Between weighing his options, reminiscing, and formulating a search plan, he was so deep in thought that he did not notice the silently growing horde of ash spawn that trailed him, gaining copious numbers before hazarding any attempt to attack the old mer. Still, the sound of their smoldering flesh grew louder as their ranks increased, and finally Neloth turned to find out what was crackling and snapping behind him. The very moment he met their gaze, the horde lurched forward, a foyada of fireballs hurdling his way.

His ward was up instantly. The heat singed his beard and robes, but he suffered no damage, and with a wide sweep of his arm a wall of ice erupted, freezing the first line of ash spawn in place, though only temporarily. The flickering heat of their singed flesh melted through the ice, freeing their arms to launch more fireballs, though luckily their legs remained stuck. The rest of the horde began to pass the frozen first line and began to summon yet more to their ranks. The sheer number of them surprised the wizard; they seemed too organized and focused. He didn’t see how anyone but him could make it across the ash wastes if they were always this numerous and brutal.

                Neloth uttered a quiet incantation and began to float above the ground, far enough that the creatures could not touch him, though this did nothing to quell their fiery attacks. He could not bring this many dangerous entities to the people of Raven Rock and still expect them to continue to supply Tel Mithryn. He had to stop them before he continued. Raising both arms as violet orbs grew at his palms, he launched a wave of magicka that summoned one storm atronach and one frost atronach, but in his distraction, one fireball did manage to strike his shoulder. He shouted in surprise and pain, but gathered himself enough to watch the chaos unfolding before him. The atronachs struck and slammed the entities, sending them flailing across the scene only to disintegrate on impact. Still more ash spawn erupted from the ground and began climbing atop one another to reach their airborne target.

Grasping at his burnt shoulder, Neloth was very aware of his waning magicka reserves and opted to draw a staff from the sheath on his back, but winced upon his attempt. His shoulder was too damaged to reach, and his magicka too low to cast a healing spell and remain levitating. Any spell he could cast at this point would force him to release his levitation enchantment and send him tumbling into the waiting gnarled ashen fingers of his attackers. The atronachs were making progress and the addition of new spawn was slowing, but he could still tell that this would not end well for him if he could not think quickly. He fumbled with his satchel using his good arm in order to find a magicka potion, but was hit once more by another fireball. He faltered, levitiation releasing and sending him to the ground, luckily guided just outside of the reach of the ash spawn. His tailbone stung, shoulder burned, and now his head began to pound as he felt exhaustion taking his uninjured muscles down with them.

                A single Dunmeri curse left his lips as he braced for the coming impact of the ash spawn, but none came.

                “Die, you scum!” Cried a voice which irritated Neloth more than dying at the hands of ash spawn would have. With the flash of swords and clinking of chitin, he could just make out the figures of Captain Veleth of the Redoran Guard, and Teldryn Sero, neither of whom Neloth wanted to be rescued by. Neloth stumbled to his feet, raising his hands once more to launch his own attack at the creatures anew, now that levitation was not draining his magicka. He managed to parry a single fireball as Captain Veleth swung his sword, bisecting two ash spawn with a single blow. Teldryn raised a Flame atronach as a distraction while he too ran his blade through still more of the creatures. In a dizzying whirlwind of movement and spellcasting, he heard the last screeching and crackling cry of the final spawn disintegrating onto nirn, and all fell silent as the dust began to settle.

                The only sound to be heard in the next few moments was a hacking cough from one of the two swordsmen, though through the dust Neloth could not tell which. Not that he cared either, once he could see which direction he should be headed he simply departed in that direction, wishing to be spared from having to speak with them.

                “And just where do you think you’re off to?” A stern and thickly accented voice demanded, sending a bolt of irritation through the wizard.

                “Obviously to Raven Rock. I’m in a hurry.” He stated curtly and turned to leave once more.

                “Afraid I’ll need you to answer some questions first; not having you luring those beasties into my town.” Veleth demanded, blocking Neloth with his body.

                “I’ve nothing to do with them, you lapdog. They attacked me, why would I summon my own undoing? S’wit.” He spat.

                “Now listen, I’ve never seen a horde as massive as that after anyone but you, and if there’s any danger of them following you into Raven Rock, I can’t take that risk.”

                “Now look here, you n’wah-“

                “Morvayn, I can stick with him and make sure the town is safe. I’m pretty certain this isn’t his doing.” Teldryn finally spoke.

                Captain Veleth eyed the mercenary with uncertainty. “You’re sure, Sero? You can take on that number if need be?”

                “Shit, probably. He could take them out himself if he wasn’t so old, he probably just needs a younger set of hands to help.”

                Neloth glared daggers at Teldryn.

                “Right, fine. Let ‘im in. But you stick to him like sap, alright?” Warned Veleth.

                “Easy.” Replied Teldryn.

                Neloth had already began walking before the two agreed. His head was pounding from anger and a tinge of embarrassment that he’d nearly been bested by mindless undead.

                “Hey, wait a moment!” Teldryn took off after the old mer, who was faster than one would expect a mer his age to be. “What, no ‘thank you’?”

                “What do I have to thank you for?” growled Neloth, continuing his pace.

                “Saving your ass? Talking Morvayn down? Aren’t you supposed to be smart?”

                Neloth rolled his eyes. “Oh THANK you great Nerevarine, what would I, a HEAD of House Telvanni and with ages more experience than you, ever do without you?”

                Teldryn sneered. “You’re such an ass. Your shoulder looks pretty bad, do you want me to-"

                "DON'T touch me, sellsword. I can handle it myself once i've rested a bit; I don't trust you not to mend the wrong nerve endings together."

                Teldryn rolled his eyes. "What are you doing here, anyway? Don’t you usually send Ulves or Talvas to pick up shipments for you?”

                “None of your business. Though…” he pinched the bridge of his nose in irritation that he was about to contradict himself. “…ugh. Have you seen Talvas? Or anyone who looks like Talvas?”

                “Anyone wh- what are you talking about? I haven’t seen Talvas recently, but I have been on a job for a few days for the Adriano’s. why? Is he okay?”

                “He’s fine. Just- have you seen a woman who looks like she could be his sister?”

                “Talvas has a sister?”

                “No.”

                “What in Bal’s arsehole are you talking about then?”

                “Never you mind. I’m going to ask around.”

                It was clear to Teldryn that if he wanted any answers, he was going to have to follow Neloth around. He debated if it was even worth the hassle, but on their last journey he had developed some fondness for Talvas, and Neloth’s vagueness made the mercenary worry for the boy’s safety. He decided to stick with the old mer at least until he could discern if Talvas was safe. The two made rounds in Raven Rock, asking if anyone had spoken to Talvas in the last few days. The only answer they got was from Slitter, who offhandedly mentioned that a pretty young thing in Talvas’ style of clothing had gotten on a boat three days prior, but he didn’t know where to.

                “It’s a fifty-fifty chance he’s gone to Morrowind or Skyrim.” Neloth grumbled, standing on the dock, waiting for a boat to dock.

                “He wouldn’t go to Morrowind.” Teldryn stated, “he told me he’d never set foot on Morrowind soil again until he was a master Wizard.”

                Neloth chuckled viciously. “Did he now?”

                “My bet is he went to Winterhold.”

                “What makes you think that?”

                Teldryn shrugged. “Mage-friendly.”

                “You mean the College, then? Hmm, I suppose he may have taken leave of his senses and gone to stay with mages far inferior to him.”

                “Inferior?” Teldryn raised his eyebrows. “You think him a better mage than the professors?”

                “Of course, he’s my apprentice. Savos Aren himself couldn’t hold a candle to what Talvas has learned from me.”

                “Savos Aren is dead.”

                “Precisely. Only a moron would die at the hands of an Altmer nutjob zealot. How undignified for a dunmer.”

                Teldryn bristled; from what Sirene had told him, Savos had suffered a heroes death trying to protect students and professors alike. How dare Neloth speak as though her were some inconsequential grunt? He should know not to be surprised. This was the man who killed his last apprentice and didn’t bat an eye; just marched to Raven Rock to recruit another so he’d still have a test subject. However, Neloth had recently proven that he had a soul, even admitted to having feelings for Talvas. No matter, Teldryn did not trust that he wouldn’t hurt the boy even if he did care for him. Neloth HAD hurt Talvas before. The scars and sobbing on Teldryn’s shoulder on multiple occasions attested to that.

                “I never did ask you, how did your last apprentice die?”

                “That’s not really any of your business.” Neloth stated, as nonchalantly as if Teldryn had asked what book he were reading.

                “I worry for Talvas, that’s all.”

                “It was an accident, Sero. She volunteered to be a test subject, the experiment failed. That’s all. She knew the risks.” At the utterance of the last word, Neloth’s voice hitched slightly. He cleared his throat, “Anyways, I won’t be repeating that test on Talvas. I’ve decided its far too dangerous to attempt until I’ve done substantially more research on the matter.”

                “So if Talvas were to die, what would you do? Just pick up another apprentice?”

                “I don’t like rhetorical conversation.” Stated Neloth, sharply.

                “Sirene told me you’d offered her an apprenticeship once Talvas finishes up his, is that true?” Teldryn’s tone darkened. Neloth could tell the mercenary did not approve of himself being Teldryn’s pretty little plaything’s direct superior.

                “When she told me she was the Archmage, I assumed she was gifted in magic, and made an offhanded remark. Of course now that I know she LUCKED upon the title with a few wards and the accidental death of Archmage Aren, I could easily withdraw the offer.” The old mer had begun tapping his foot impatiently, struggling to shake thoughts of Ildari's death from his mind. "Where is that blasted boat? I could probably swim to Skyrim faster!"

                Teldryn snorted, a chuckle escaping his lips.

               "What is so amusing? You think me too old to swim the distance?"

               "Not that, 's just Sirene said almost exactly the same thing when she saw me off from Windhelm last."

               "How precious" biting sarcasm dripped from his words.

                “She has a lot of respect for you, you know. Not that you deserve it.” Sneered Teldryn.

                “Why don’t we wait in silence, hm?”

Chapter Text

Talvas blinked awake, weary and dazed, but comfortable wrapped in three layers of linens and furs of surprisingly fine quality. He closed his eyes once more, trying to remember the events of the night before through the lingering headache that clouded his thoughts. He remembered crying to Sirene, embarrassingly enough, and begging her for sanctuary at the college. There had been wine and mead, and a hookah, the contents of which were unknown to him. Some other unfamiliar faces flashed in his minds eye, jovial and occasionally concerned, but beyond that, it had all vanished from his memory. At the moment, he didn’t particularly care. He was warm and comfortable, aside from the ache in his temple, and it was quiet and peaceful. The urge to go back to sleep was difficult to deny, but he managed to push himself into a more upright position to at least take in his surroundings.

                The frigid air met his bare chest, causing Talvas to yank the blankets up higher, and he flinched in alarm at the feeling of his breasts.

                “Ugh… I forgot…” he mumbled. The silence that followed was more jarring to him than it should have been. Anytime he spoke or even mumbled aloud at Tel Mithryn, he would hear a response from Neloth, either acknowledging that the boy was awake or barking orders at him.

                Talvas clutched his head in both hands with a groan, willing the throbbing to cease. He was unsure of what exactly had caused this ache, but surely the copious amounts of sujamma he’d drank the night before hadn’t helped. Judging by the light from the one small window in the tower, it was still nighttime, and yet his body had forced him awake as though lava threatened to pour from his skin.

                “Oh good, you’re awake. Go fetch a couple of heart stones, preferably ones heavier in the red crystalline stone and lighter in obsidian. I believe the concentration of the stone effects its usefulness.” Neloth called, louder than he needed to, given their proximity. The sound hit Talvas like glass shattering in his brain, he could barely even comprehend the words he was hearing.

                “Urgh… what?” Talvas weakly retorted from his bedroll on the floor, a wave of nausea taking the color from his face. “Shiit-“hand thrown over his mouth, he gagged, trying to hold back the contents of his stomach. Luckily, he managed to contain them for the moment.

                “Don’t you dare do that in my tower. You’d better get outside and start looking for stones, you can vomit all you want out there.”

                That familiar burn of rage bubbled up in Talvas’ stomach, along with the alcohol from the previous evening. Something Neloth had done had upset him yesterday, though he could not remember exactly what. He only remembered taking the first few drinks straight from the bottle to try to calm himself down, though the headache started before the drinking. “Ju…justst gimme a min-uugh…” He wanted to lash out at Neloth, but at the moment, he felt far too unwell. Everything was spinning; his insides bathed in hot acid that tried to rupture his esophagus as it bubbled up. Even the dim light in the tower felt like daggers in his retina. Nothing was working right; his brain screamed at his limbs to move, but they were completely incapable of the correct action.

                “I won’t wait around all day. Make it quick.”

                Talvas clumsily and incredibly shakily attempted to stand, but was overcome with vertigo and fell back immediately. The impact of the fall was harder than expected, and pain shot up his spine, only worsening the nausea. He could not muster the strength to talk, to move in any productive manner; Hells, even breathing hurt. It was getting harder and harder to keep his lungs working as he scrambled to move. With what little strength and coordination he had, he turned away from Neloth, and dry heaved. His body tried to throw up, but to no avail. Something wasn’t functioning right. And again, and again, still nothing. Talvas could not breathe. This continued, Talvas choking and coughing desparately, trying to catch a single breath, spasming uncontrollably. He could hear Neloth berating him, perhaps even yanking at his shoulders and hair, but could not make out any words or actions over the ringing in his ears and his own attempted retching. The world around him turned monochromatic and dim as he struggled for breath before everything: the walls, the floor, his hands, Neloth’s voice, all vanished completely.

He did not know exactly what happened between then and when he opened his eyes next, but he was immediately aware of Neloth lurched with his hands on him as he was laid out on a table usually reserved for dissecting spriggans. A stream of irate consciousness continued from the elder mer’s lips that Talvas had clearly missed the first half of. He knew what he was saying, though. He’d heard it before.

                “-irresponsible to continue your apprenticeship if you continue this self-destructive behaviour! There will be NO more of it in my Tower, and should I find you abusing it at the blasted Retching Netch I shall personally tear you apart and feed you to the ash hoppers!” He screeched in anger, hand yanking back after being spread squarely in the middle of Talvas’ chest for however long it had been magically keeping the younger mer’s heart beating.

                Talvas couldn’t help but emit a hoarse chuckle. Neloth had said nearly the same thing last time Talvas had almost died of alcohol poisoning. He’d had to use a very complicated and time consuming magical-medical procedure to stop the progression of the poisoning that time, and Talvas could assume that this time was the same.

                “I assure you this is no joke, Talvas! Now sit up and drink some damned water! And DON’T think you’re getting out of collecting those heart stones! You have already wasted a significant portion of my day and I expect you to make up the difference!”

                “Yes, master.”

                Talvas shook the memory of that day from his head. For the longest time he had assumed Neloth was asserting some sense of power over him, reminding Talvas that Neloth alone decided when Talvas was allowed to die. Of course, the events of his zombie-induced illness proved that theory quite inaccurate. Or… did it? Talvas hadn’t thought about his moments of drink-induced poisoning in a year or so at least; Neloth had made sure he was too busy to even look at a bottle of sujamma or otherwise since the last time. Neloth’s hand in saving him from the illness surely felt different than the other times, but it seemed business as usual afterwards. Talvas scowled; the urge to drink heavily as revenge on Neloth was present, but he recognized the danger of it. What is WRONG with me??

This time, his hangover was not so bad. He was relieved that the headache began to wane; he doubted anyone at the college knew how to remove alcohol from one’s system the way Neloth did, and couldn’t bear the thought of his dear friend Sirene trying to resuscitate him the day after she’d allowed him sanctuary. Talvas knew he had a problem. He considered asking Sirene to keep any temptation away from him, but dismissed the idea. He needn’t bring attention to it, especially since it was no one else’s problem but his. Spotting his clothes strewn about the bed chamber, he slowly made his way to the bedside to gather himself.

                About an hour later, he emerged from the bedchamber, searching the stone rooms of the college for food, company, or something to do. The rumble in his stomach spoke to which urge was most important, and luckily the next room he happened upon was the kitchen. Void of people at the moment, Talvas snuck inside and examined the contents of the shelves. Racks upon racks of salt-cured meat sat growing stale and dry on the top, herbs and curious, unfamiliar potions on the next shelf down. He was somewhat disappointed by his options, but resolved that beggars cannot be choosers. Most of the cuisine available would be Nord fare after all, consisting of fatty meat and salt, either unseasoned or basted in ale. He knew what he was in for in Winterhold and didn’t bother searching further.

                “Hungry, huh?” A gruff voice caused Talvas to jump and drop the venison chop he had been studying. “No surprise there, you really did some partying last night. Anything in particular you’re looking for?”

                Talvas eyed the wood elf addressing him with confusion, “uh… not really. Sorry, I’ll leave if-“

                “Hey I’m not the food police. I’m sure the others will understand that you missed breakfast. Just don’t let Urag know, it was his turn to cook this morning, and he can be a grouch.”

                Talvas stepped back. Though the man before him was a few inches shorten than him, he sure felt imposing, especially the way he eyed him up and down.

                “You come straight from Morrowind?”

                “No-er, yes. Solstheim, actually.”

                The shorter mer whistled as a response. “Nothing out there! Well, unless you like yams, I suppose. Raven Rock?”

                “Tel Mithryn.”

                “Oh, that mushroom tower the Archmage visits? Sounds miserable out there.”

                Talvas’ instinct was to argue, but the mer was not wrong. Before any thoughts could leave Talvas’ lips, another voice spoke up, “Enthir, I believe the Archmage gave you an assignment.” Spoke the handsome Thalmor agent Talvas had met yesterday.

                “Yeah, yeah, just grabbing a bite before heading out. Don’t you have anything more important to do than police the pantry?”

                “You know very well there is nothing important to be done out here.” Ondolemar sneered, shooing the bosmer out the door. “You, dunmer. Archmage wants to see you too, in her quarters. This way,” he ushered Talvas out of the kitchen, his disappointment in being taken before procuring a snack punctuated by a loud gurgling of his stomach.

                Ondolemar unlocked the wooden door to Sirene’s quarters and prodded Talvas inside, shutting it swiftly behind him. Immediately, Sirene greeted him from a small round table at the edge, inviting him to take a seat in front of a rather luxurious meal that made him mouth water.

                “Sit! Eat, you must be starving! Are you feeling alright after last night?” She chimed energetically, though the bags under her eyes contrasted her demeanor harshly.

                “For the most part. I definitely hit the bottle a but too hard, uhm…” He shifted nervously, unsure of whether to breech the subject.

                “What’s wrong?” Her hand immediately extended out, offering what support she could.

                “I- Nothing, it’s not important. Are you feeling okay? Everyone drank a bit too much last night, I’m afraid.”

                Sirene shook her head. “I didn’t partake; my stomach has been a bit off for the past few days. I’m trying not to make it worse. But don’t worry about me, are you up for a tour of the grounds? I can introduce you to a few instructors; we just hired a couple new ones since we unfortunately lost… a few in the Eye of Magnus incident. In fact, depending on how long you’d like to stay, we’d love to have you do some guest lectures.”

                Talvas half-chuckled. She had been asking Neloth to come lecture at the college for quite some time, but the stubborn old mer always shot her down, claiming most students were nowhere near fit to learn even a single enchantment from him. He was still quite angry about an incident years ago in which a couple students of the college visited him with a question about the History of Morrowind, only for him to find that it was a distraction so one of them could steal his staff enchanter to install in their own ‘pathetic excuse of a mage’s tower’ in Morthal. Talvas always wondered why Neloth had let them keep it. Had it been too difficult to take it back, or had he simply not deemed it worth the hassle?

                “What would I lecture about?”

                “Conjuration, I assumed. You’re quite gifted at it, I gather? Neloth seemed to think so, at least.”

                He did? “I… suppose I could put something together. When would you need it by?”

                “Whenever you like, there’s no rush. Now eat up, I have a meeting with Tolfdir in a few minutes so I will be in the Arcanaeum if you need me.”

                After finishing the most delectable meal he’d had in years, Talvas hurried down to the main hall, catching the tail end of a lecture on entomological alteration and transmutation led by a fair bosmer woman with small horns, who somehow was holding an active beehive in her bare hand while a small collection of students stood far back in fear of being stung. He listened in momentarily, considering the practical uses of such spells on the insects of Morrowind and whether it was more ethical to use practical or magical domestication methods. When the lecture was over, the students departed and Talvas began to approach the woman to raise his question, excited to be able to engage in education rather than observing and assigning himself his own practices. Unfortunately, before he could reach her, she was swiftly swept away by the affections of Ondolemar, much to Talvas’ surprise. The Altmer man strode in sternly, but smoothly and swiftly picked the now giggling woman up bridal style, and disappeared quickly into the back hall with the echoing slam of a heavy stone door.

                Talvas sighed. He thought to make his way to the Arcanaeum to cling to the only person there he knew and felt comfortable with, but she was in a meeting and most likely did not want to be disturbed. As he wandered around, staring mournfully into the glowing font in the center of the room, he could not help but feel he was making a mistake. Perhaps Neloth was worried about him? But what if he wasn’t? If he returned now, would he be accepted back or tossed from the tower in favor of a less flighty apprentice? His mind drifted back to the hot springs again.

                That same tingling, yearning sensation ripped towards his core and downward, and Talvas shivered. How could a man that could and callous suddenly turn around and be so warm and, dare he say, pleasurable? The word ‘love’ tiptoed around his thoughts, but Talvas didn’t dare let it manifest. It was not love he was feeling. It may have been lust, infatuation, perhaps even just need of an outlet for his sexual urges, but he did not want to think of it as love. The way Neloth treated him the rest of the time was NOT love. And yet, Talvas wanted to feel him again. His body heated and quivered at the mere thought of him. He wasn’t even sure what about his master he found attractive, but he nonetheless was attracted to him. There was something unexplainable that lured him back, urged him to apologize to Neloth and beg for his forgiveness. Tears of regret pricked the edges of Talvas’ ruby eyes until he was jarringly gently slapped by an empty glove.

                “Hey, help me out with this, would you?” the same gruff wood elf from earlier, Enthir, called from the edge of the font.

                Talvas shook the unpleasant thoughts from his head and glanced at Enthir, then back down at the glove which he’d chucked at him.

                “Why- uh, what do you need help with?”

                “Searching the font for debris, bones, teeth, hair, that sort of thing. You gotta use the glove, though. This font is very corrosive if you touch it bare.” Explained the bosmer

                Talvas blinked. “Bones?”

                “Yeah, bones. Remains. You get the picture.”

                “Why would there be bones in there?”

                Enthir rolled his eyes. “Ancano’s bones. We still haven’t found ‘em. We found a little bit of his hair, but his body disappeared. Tolfdir thinks they were pulled into the font by whatever force, probably sucked below the midden. Now we check every couple a days in case they bubble up. I might have found his finger the other day, though truth be told it could have been anyone’s.”

                Talvas shuddered at the thought. Not wanting to hear any more about it, he slipped the glove on and followed suit, reaching into the font and feeling for solid objects.

                “So, what business does a Telvanni apprentice have at the College of Winterhold? I assumed you guys were too high and mighty to come here.”

                “Who told you I was a-“

                “Walls here are mighty echo-y. And I have a bad habit of… overhearing conversations, among other things. For instance, did you know, and you DIDN’T hear this from me,” Enthir leaned in close, “Sirene slept with the old Archmage when she was still a student?”

                “What? Really?” Talvas whispered harshly.

                “Yeah, she has a reeeeal thing for Dark Elves. Of course, Savos had a soft spot for intelligent young women who showed an interest, too. I think she was real torn up by his death, so try not to bring it up.”

                Talvas nodded, feeling a little bad about indulging in gossip. It was something he had a bit of a weakness for, as he and Varona often used to gossip about Neloth when he shut them out of the tower for a dangerous experiment. Of course, they usually only talked about Ulves and his infatuation with the Raven Rock alchemist’s daughter. Shortly before her death, though, Talvas remembered escorting Varona to Raven Rock when she let slip about how Ildari had become pregnant and immediately poisoned herself to force a miscarriage, a fact which Neloth apparently knew nothing about. She’d never explicitly mentioned who the father was, leaving far too much room for speculation, and she died before Talvas gathered the courage to ask.

                “Anyway,” Enthir continued, “you didn’t answer my question.”

                “Oh, well I’m a friend of Sirene, and I just needed a place to stay for a week or so. Just need to clear my head for a bit.”

                Enthir cocked an eyebrow. “I think there’s more to this story.”

                “I don’t really want to talk about it.” Talvas flatly stated, pulling a small object out of the font, and examining it.

                “There are lots of rocks. Just chuck it aside. How about this, I tell you something I know about someone here, and you tell me ONE thing that led you here.”

                As much as the line of questioning irritated Talvas, he had to admit the last bit of gossip Enthir had shared was enticing enough for him to go along with the scheme. “Okay. Tell me about Ondolemar and the bosmer lady. I thought Thalmor were all about racial purity?”

                “Oh, our friend Ondolemar was sent here as punishment because he abandoned his post to run after our little bosmer friend. Apparently, her father is an anti-Thalmor extremist in Valenwood and she was forced to flee her home and disguise herself as an Altmer in Skyrim. That’s why her horns are so small, she had to cut them off and they’re only just growing back. Poor girl.”

                “Yikes, and yet she’s… dating a Thalmor agent?”

                “It’s complicated, on the outside Ondolemar acts the part of a high ranking Thalmor official, but I have a feeling he’s just in it for the paycheck, and maybe there’s trouble back home. He’s a tough nut to crack. Now, your part of the deal.”

                Talvas sighed heavily. “My master is… a difficult man. And he crossed a line. And now I’m… out of sorts, per say.”

                “More detail please. I gave you way more than that. Unless its sexual assault or something, you don’t have to tell me about that. Just blink twice if that’s it.”

                “No, not that. Though, maybe in a manner of… no! Okay, you want to know? I’m male, and he sort of ambushed me and turned my body female for his stupid research.”

                “What the fuck?! Like, permanently!?”

                “No, it’s only supposed to last a week.”

                “Oh!” Enthir’s eyes shifted as though deep in thought. “Er, well, that’s still not great, but at least it’s temporary.”

                “That’s not the point; he’s CONSTANTLY doing shit like this; he tests his spells on me as though I’m his guinea pig rather than his apprentice. He berates me constantly just for existing in his presence, and-“ he paused as his voice hitched, realizing that there were now tears streaming down his face. “And-“

“Whoa, hey. You don’t have to keep going if you don’t- just, er, here.” Enthir gave him an awkward pat on the shoulder, seeming a bit sorry he asked. “You shared more than enough. How about I tell you about the time J’zargo blew up his dorm room? That one’s funny.”

                Talvas didn’t speak, but nodded, wiping his face on his sleeve and continuing to root through the font.

Chapter Text

She was on top of him, screaming. Neloth felt his scarf tighten around his throat, and his own shock giving way to fear and anger. Ildari had snapped. What had triggered this violent reaction? He quite literally had not spoken a word to her the whole day and they had gone about business as usual; Neloth conducting his research and Ildari observing. Though as he thought back, he remembered a ruckus outside of his tower followed by some rather excited clapping and laughter. This was just before her entrance. He also remembered that she looked unusually pleased with herself, but he was far too busy to bother asking why.

                There was no consistent string of language from her mouth, only screeches of ‘bastard!’ and “kill you” and other similar exclamations as she tried to strangle him via brute force. No magic. A primal, animal rage had overtaken her in that moment. Reflexively, Neloth had raised his hand to cast a calm spell, but it hadn’t released until he fully regained his senses. It hit the side of Ildari’s head, and she froze, expression fading. She stared blankly at him, scarf still held taut around his throat, but no longer dangerously so. He shuffled up onto his forearms and prepared to break into a tirade chastising her behavior, but her mouth crashed into his before the words came out. She was kissing him. THIS was unexpected. His heart lept into his throat, like a drainplug popped and washed away all the anger.

                They pulled apart for breath, Neloth feeling himself slip back into researcher mode as questions flooded his thoughts. Was this a side effect of the calm spell? The energetic triggers for love and hate are incredibly close together. Did it produce new emotions, or amplify preexistent ones? Could a variation of the calm spell completely reverse the outcome of any altercation? No, surely he had cast a regular calm spell. Nothing had felt different, so why-“ a friction upon his lap jerked him from his delving in on the subject. Pressure released from his neck when one of her hands left his scarf to palm at his crotch, erecting a reply from his nethers.

                “Ah!…Ildari- what is this?” He breathed, hoping she understood the intention was not necessarily to stop her.

                “Shut up.” She murmured, focusing on the growing bulge in her master’s pants.

                He did, watching her with a dangerous blend of fascination and arousal, leaving no question that he was into it. It was definitely preferrable to being strangled to death.  Soon, she had begun tossing his vestments aside to find the tie of his trousers, then freeing their contents. She was breathing heavily, shaking slightly with nerves, or perhaps from anticipation.

                “You- Ildari, you do not have to force yourse-“

                “Shut UP!” She commanded, crawling down between his legs. “I’m not doing this for you.”  She huffed, madly blushing a vibrant mauve.

                “It may have been the spell-“

                “I don’t care.”  Ildari then ducked down and licked a stripe of spit up the bottom of Neloth’s cock, which twitched in response. Neloth moaned as quietly as he was able. A shiver ran up through his entire body. He could not believe what was happening. Sure, he’d noticed Ildari’s figure before, alluring though perhaps a little too bony for most mer, but he’d never considered ending up in such a position with her. She was an apprentice, after all, and a brilliant one at that. His most accomplished student yet, she had earned a small level of respect from him. And yet now, her lips slipped over the head of his cock, teeth gently clacking on the golden stud which adorned the ridge. She sucked, sliding her mouth down little by little. Her mouth was so warm and soft, he let out some undignified noise against his will. Ildari immediately pulled off with a wet pop, and huffed.

“Good, now I have your attention.” Ildari hissed.  She stood up and began straightening to unbuckle the straps of chitin armor on her shoulders and shins. Neloth took the opportunity to get off of the floor and cast a second spell. In a single second her clothes, as well as his, fell to the floor around their ankles. As though she had expected this, Ildari turned, grabbed his shoulders, and spun so she fell backwards over an alchemy table with her legs around him. With swift telekinesis, Neloth landed the alembic softly on the floor before turning his attention to Ildari and-

“Neloth. Hey! Neloth! Wake up you old ash ghoul. We’re here.” Teldryn nudged the old mer, who started awake, momentarily disoriented.

“B’vehk, I didn’t realize I had fallen asleep.” Standing upright and pretending that he wasn’t experiencing a headrush, Neloth motioned for Teldryn to exit the boat first. A dream… The memory of that night sometimes returned while he slept, though he so rarely did. Hopefully, Teldryn could not tell that Neloth felt unseasonably warm, so to speak. The chill of Windhelm hit him like a hammer as soon as they stepped above deck, and all arousal dissipated painfully into the frigid wind. The ache in his joints intensified immediately upon setting foot off of the dock as the two marched up to the gates of the city. He immediately sent a surge of magicka throughout his body, whirring like a radiator, to keep warm.

“What were you dreaming about?” Teldryn asked.

“Nothing. I don’t remember.”

“Hm, ‘cause you did make some strange, strangled noises in your sleep.”

“Did I say anything?”

“No. Well, sort of. You tried to cast a spell in your sleep. Calm, I think.”

Neloth did not reply, only kept marching on down the narrow city corridors, searching for the way out.

“You calmed down after that.” Teldryn cut through the silence.

“I’m sure.” Neloth grumbled.

“Hey, so what happened to Talvas? Why wouldn’t he be back at Tel Mithryn?” Teldryn asked, but he had a good guess as to the answer. He’d gotten fed up with Neloth and run off.

“Well, seeing as my tower seems to be falling apart all around me, I don’t think he’s keen on spending time there right now. Gods know I’m not.” Neloth said in a huff. A lie of omission, maybe, but still mostly true.

“Your tower? What’s going on with your tower?”

“Not that it’s any of YOUR business, but… I have reason to believe someone or something is sabotaging me. My tower is damaged from ash spawn attacks and the burns are not healing in time to prevent rot. Not to mention the sheer number of them, and the fact that mere months ago, my stewardess was murdered. These are not coincidences. And now Talvas leaves, and...” Neloth trailed off, seemingly distracted by a thought.

“And?”

“Hm? Oh, yes, Talvas could be in danger too, who knows?” He said halfheartedly. Even he wasn’t listening to himself. “But regardless if he is or isn’t, I need to find him. You can’t just exit an apprenticeship whenever you want; barring death or insanity, there are guidelines that must be followed. I can’t have my research falling into the wrong hands.”

And how dare he leave me? A small seed of rage had sprouted in Neloth’s gut mid-speech. How could he, after all I’ve done for him? What if he’s out there drinking himself to death, raising a middle finger to all the effort Neloth put in to training him? Throwing away all of his potential! Neloth quickened his pace. He heard the angry, slurred speech of a drunken Nord in the town center, but that rabble abruptly halted as the man froze stone-like upon being hit with a spell of paralysis, toppling over like a felled tree. The duo marched past as some guards just barely noticed that anything had happened.

As one guard caught the spectacle and shouted “HEY!”, Neloth raised an arm, and the city gates swung open with a crash. The impact started the men stationed just outside the gates, though it did not strike them. He continued walking while the guards shouted at them and almost pursued, and Teldryn’s hand found the hilt of his blade, waiting for the first sign of trouble. Luckily, pursuit never came. The guards halted once their commander caught sight of who they were pursuing; the same dangerous mage and chitin plated merc who had evaded a Dark Brotherhood order that one of his good friends had contracted. The same friend who was quite recently found stripped, exsanguinated, and butchered behind the stables.

                Teldryn thanked the three that they were able to leave Windhelm without incident, but irritatingly the taxi cart which usually sat at the ready beyond the gates was absent. He shuddered at the thought of walking through the frozen wastes that surrounded Winterhold; even a mule cart would be faster than walking. Neloth, however, seemed entirely unbothered and continued on, marching straight down the path and to the west, opting to take a mountainous route, which though more laborious, would also be quicker.

                Only a few minutes into their journey, a sense of unease fell over Neloth. He’d had a sense of generalized anxiety since the moment he’d left his tower, but that was to be expected given the circumstances of his departure. This new feeling, however, had been hiding just outside of consciousness until now, as the duo were finally away from the buzz and hum of other people and their constant chattering energies. An unseen set of eyes peered at him, and he could feel them studying him, growing closer and closer. He did not falter in his gait, but murmured to Teldryn to have his sword handy.

                The longer Neloth felt the unknown gaze, the stronger the feeling became. Something was amiss. Less than an hour into the journey, Neloth began to hear unmistakable whispers. He’d had heard this sort of thing before. They were not being followed, they were being TRACKED. He halted abruptly.

                “What is it?” Teldryn grabbed at his sword once again.

                “Empty your pockets.”

                “What?”

                “Something is tracking us. Empty your pockets.”

                Teldryn wanted to argue, but the look on Neloth’s face was all the convincing he needed that this was serious. He did as Neloth requested, finding all pockets and satchels on his person and spreading their contents on the snow.

                Neloth shut his eyes and waved his palm over the collection of items, pausing over a peculiar ring. It was black, polished obsidian with a single glowing red gemstone set in the middle, shaped similarly to an anatomical heart.

                “What is this?” Neloth studied the ring, picking it up with telekinesis rather than his own flesh.

                “A ring. I planned on bringing it to Sirene as a gift.”

                “Where did you find it?”

                “Uh, I think… In the dirt outside of The Retching Netch, I think. It’s a bit too small for me, and I don’t know if it will even fit her, but-“

                “Heart stone.” He commented. “There is some sort of enchantment on it, but its very peculiar. Count yourself lucky that it was too small, this is a malevolent enchantment. A curse. Not only is it tracking our movements, but it will take over the mind of whoever wears it.” Neloth had developed the ability to ‘hear’ enchantments over such a long life of practice and dedication to the art. Though faint, he could hear an ominous chant radiating from the thing, commanding the wearer to ‘kill him’ over and over. He had a gut feeling that he himself was the one the wearer was meant to kill.

                “What!?” Teldryn’s blood ran cold. “How- what would happen? What if Sirene had put it on?”

                “I don’t know exactly, but I can tell you that this form of enchantment is highly illegal across all of Tamriel. Only Telvanni mages and Psjics have access to literature on how to perform such curses. They involve making pacts with Daedra. I feel very strongly that Hermaeus Mora was involved in the forging of this item, but I cannot imagine who would be foolish enough to conscript HIM to harm someone else. He begs a VERY high price.”

                “I think I’ve seen a ring like that; someone sent a ring to the college recently that was enchanted by Hircine or something; turned whoever wore it into a werewolf at random times.”

                “Such a curse is among the most common; Hircine is comparably easy to communicate with, and he accepts animal ritual sacrifice in return. A very low price to pay in comparison to other Daedra.”

                Teldryn shivered. “Thank Azura you found this, then. Teach me to pick up random jewelry,-“

                “You were meant to find this. Whoever would put the ring on was the intended target. Mora does not leave things to chance or create coincidences. However, you are lucky to be with a Telvanni master who is trained in sensing cursed objects and intervening. Unfortunately, we have no way of destroying it out here, but we cannot let it follow us.”

                “So, what do we do?”

                “Return to Windhelm, and place it in a secure container. Then, it can be shipped back to Tel Mithryn, where I have the tools to destroy it.”

                “How can you be so sure it won’t harm anyone before we get back?”

                “Don’t be daft, Sero. I was not the intended recipient, and it needs to be worn to be effective. My staff knows better than to put on random pieces of jewelry.”

                Trudging back to Windhelm proved difficult when a blizzard blew in, obscuring the path and slowing them down considerably. Heavy, wet snow accumulated quickly, soaking any clothing that it touched. Teldryn already felt an ache developing in his joints, and imagined it must be ten times worse at Neloth’s age. Still, the old mer continues as if nothing were amiss, only pausing once to wrap his scarf firmly around his head and ears.

                The walk, which took less than an hour out, took nearly two back in. Hunger began to settle in, causing Teldryn to feel faint and irritable.

                “I don’t think we can continue like this! Let’s stop at an inn once we get there!”

                “For once, I agree with you.” Neloth paused, suddenly aware of his surroundings after spending the last twenty or so minutes completely lost in thought and following what he passively assumed was the path. Suddenly, it dawned on him that he did not recognize his surroundings. “Hmm…” peered around, squinting.

                “What? Are w-we lost?” Teldryn shivered, hoping against hope that they would emerge from the tree line up the hill to see pyres and lanterns at the ready to warm them up.

                “Not lost per say… but I’m not sure exactly where we are.”

                “So, LOST. Don’t you have a m-map!? We’ll fr-reeze to death out here soon enough! My fucking clothes are drenched-d in melted s-snow! How are you not keeled over already!?”

                “Hah! As if a blizzard is enough to take ME out. I used magic, of course. Not the kind you’ve probably learned.”

                “Well then tt-teach it to m-me!”

                “It would take years for you to master. Do you see that light ahead?” He pointed at a dim glow in the distant horizon, just barely visible through the snowfall.

                “That’s n-not Windhelm.” Smirked Teldryn.

                “No, but any inn would do for you I suppose?”

                “Yeah.” Teldryn shook harder as the wind penetrated his mask, chilling his face and ears. “Y-you can go on-n without m-me.”

                “Nonsense, if Talvas is at the College, I doubt Sirene will let me in without a bargaining chit, i.e. you.”

                 “Couldn’t you f-force your way in anyway?” Truthfully, Teldryn was growing tired of Neloth’s company. He felt bad throwing Sirene under the carriage, but the cold exhausted him in both mind and body.

                “Too messy. No, no, I shall accompany you to this inn. Mephala knows it could do me some good to take a break from the snow too.”

                Teldryn rolled his eyes. He hurried towards the light in the distance, letting Neloth move at his own pace.  It took a while, but shivering and huffing, Teldryn finally reached the door which was engraved with the name “Nightgate Inn”. He glanced back, spotting Neloth a ways away, approaching slowly. Teldryn chuckled, “old fart.” He whispered. Upon turning, he opened the door momentarily, but glanced back when he noticed a rhythm to Neloth’s gait. The old mer was limping.

                A little pain serves him right. He thought, but couldn’t keep from staring. He closed the door again. It was so odd to see a weakness in the wizard, Teldryn almost believed he imagined the limp. Then, he saw Neloth stop and drop to one knee. He held the other knee, and it glowed momentarily but fizzled quickly.

                “Shit.” Teldryn sighed and jogged the distance to the old man and knelt down at his side.

                “Need some help?”

                “No.” Neloth lied, wincing at the pain in his knee. Sure, he had kept himself warm enough, but he had almost no magicka left to cushion the bone-on-bone scraping of his joints. Until recently, he lived a relatively low-travel lifestyle, where his main forms of exercise were swimming short lengths in the sea and climbing the steps to his tower. Now, for the second time in recent history, he was hiking all over creation, putting far too much strain on his arthritic knees. And worse, he had no canis root tea to dull the ache and improve his mood. He bitterly hissed at Teldryn to get himself into the inn and not to bother him, but Teldryn was nearly as stubborn a man as he was. Without warning, a chitin-armoured arm slithered under Neloth’s arm and urged him to stand, offering to relieve some of the weight. Neloth recoiled.

                “Unhand me!”

                “Shut up and accept the support, you moldy asshole.” Teldryn hoisted the mer’s shoulder atop his own and steadied him, taking the brunt of the weight from his painful leg.

                “How DARE you.” Neloth grumbled, hesitantly obliging anyway. The two refused to speak for the rest of the distance to the doors, but Neloth very nearly let a full ‘thank you’ slip when Teldryn set him at a table and left to speak to the innkeeper. Teldryn pretended not to notice, as a courtesy.

Chapter Text

                In his brief time at the college, Talvas had found himself feeling quite uneasy with the change of pace. Many of the lectures he’d witnessed were practically juvenile, and even the more advanced of them were second nature to him at this point. It didn’t help that he was constantly clouded by an anxious feeling that he was forgetting something or was otherwise in some sort of trouble. The one thing that relaxed him was creating an outline for his first lecture

“Conjuration is a tricky school for most to master, and a dangerous one unless you are well prepared.” Talvas iterated, voice echoing off the stone walls of the icy college. “In order to summon anything, you must first channel the correct plane of oblivion to bring the item, or being, forth. Channel the wrong plane an at best you waste your magicka summoning a pocket of air; at worst, a monster the likes of which you have never seen.” He raised a palm which began to glow purple, then fiery red before a demonic entity clad in intricately carved armor erupted from the sphere of energy he’d created.

“Now I understand the risk here is limited as a mage with little experience would lack the magicka reserves to summon something as strong as a Dremora,” the creature growled as Talvas spoke, still standing idly and awaiting instruction, “but the danger comes when one loses control of their focus or emotional state, leading something this powerful to attack either themselves or a non-enemy. This, to my understanding at least, is why Nords on a whole are distrustful of the school of conjuration. This brings me to a more recently discovered topic; mastery anchors.”

From a Netch-leather satchel strung around his hips, he withdrew a black stone with glowing red gems jutting outward. “Certain creatures will be hostile to the caster upon summoning, regardless of focus or emotions, unless they carry a specific object to which they can be bound. For example,” He cast another summoning spell, bringing forth a semi-humanoid tornado of post-fiery ash and dust, causing several members of his audience to cough and cover their nostrils to block out the particulates. “This ash guardian can only be summoned safely if the caster carries a heart stone. Master N- uh, let’s just say you don’t want to set one loose without one, which I learned the hard way. I hope you understand that for your safety, I will not perform a demonstration without the stone.”

“Talvas, that’s brilliant.” Praised Sirene, sitting at the end of the great wooden table where Talvas presented his mock lecture. “I think that will make for a fine first class.” She studied the class outline he had handed out before beginning his presentation,” Though, I think we should have them start with something smaller, like summoning a familiar instead of an atronach. Remember, some of these mages are very new magic as a whole.”

“And maybe don’t demonstrate that ash-guardian spell indoors, some of our students and staff are athsmatic.” Collette, the school’s resident Restoration expert chimed in

“Right,” Talvas nodded. A tiny twinge of irritation nagged him as he begrudged having to teach the basics rather than focusing on the nuanced and intricate work he’d been studying at Tel Mithryn. Behind him, Enthir coughed and tapped his shoulder, still covering his face with his tunic.

“Hey, I know you dunmer are used to breathing ash, but could you get rid of that thing? Its aggravating my asthma.”

“Uh yeah. Sorry.” He turned and raised both hands towards the creatures he’d summoned, causing them both to crumble into small piles of dust which vanished seconds later.

“Very impressive, master Fathryon!” Called an older Nord man whose aching joints popped as he stood from the table. “You know, miss Maryon would be interested to share insight with a fellow member of your great house.”

“I doubt it,” Talvas sighed, packing his demonstration props back into his satchel. “It’s pretty rare for Telvanni to share amongst one another without promise of political gain.”

The older man, Tolfdir, chuckled. “You’ve been under your master’s thumb for quite some time, haven’t you?”

Talvas shrugged, not meeting Tolfdir’s gaze. “I guess.”

Tolfdir smiled, though Talvas remained cold to him. “I’ve heard of your master. Neloth, right? He’s been around for the good part of a millenia. I’ve studied some books he’s published, very insightful.”

Talvas nodded, trying to keep his irritation internal.

“I may look old, but I’m sure I am your junior by some decades, so maybe you don’t wish to hear this from me. But I’ll tell you anyway, in case it is of any help.”

Talvas remained stubbornly silent.

Tolfdir continued, “my favorite thing about teaching is that my students are constantly challenging me with new innovations in magic. They are young, yes, but as I get older, I find people my age are less open to new ideas. It makes it very difficult for us to discover new things, but the world has not yet beaten down the minds of the young. Just the other day, J’zargo introduced me to a new way to enchant wards into scrolls! I’d never-“

“I’m really sorry to interrupt, but I need to go-“

“Hang on. I just want you to know, you have a lot more power and value than your master credits you for, and not just because you study under him. Your youth and inexperience are assets to you and him alike. Don’t let him dismiss it, but don’t let him take advantage of it either.”

Talvas frowned, grabbing his papers and satchel rather abruptly. “You don’t know anything about him.” He hissed, side-eyeing the old Nord, and marched away abruptly.

Enthir silently crept after him.

Talvas dropped his things in his chamber and threw himself onto the bed, trying and failing to hold back tears. He felt ridiculous, crying because what? He missed Neloth? And what on Nirn was that old man on about? He fumed as Tolfdir’s words echoed in his mind, ‘don’t let him take advantage of you’, as if he knew anything about Neloth! A sob escaped his lips as he pictured himself returning to Tel Mithryn, still trapped in his feminine form, confronting Neloth. He imagined various scenarios at once; what if Neloth would not allow him back in? Was if he punished him for leaving? Would it hurt? What if he wasn’t even there? Would he search for a new apprentice? Talvas cursed himself for assuming he was special. Neloth had many apprentices before him; he had told him that countless times. He never seemed to hesitate to pick up a new one; perhaps he too was just a free test subject for him and not a vessel to pass on his knowledge. Still, Talvas remembered their time at the Hot Springs.

He shivered. That set him apart from the rest, right? Was he now invaluable to Neloth as more than just an apprentice?

He remembered Ildari. How Varona had told him of their sordid affair, and the child Ildari nearly bore. They had the same relationship. The realization made Talvas shudder hard when he imagined what Neloth’s motive could have been for changing his sex. He grasped at his own soft breast beneath his robes, and fury shot to his core. He shoved his face into his pillow and screamed.

“Easy, now.”

Talvas shot upright and turned his attention to the voice in the doorway, hastily wiping his face.

“Don’t want to scare the others,” Enthir suggested. “What’s got you so worked up?”

Talvas sniffed, wiping his tears on his baggy sleeve. “Leave me alone.”

Enthir shrugged, taking a step back. “Not trying to intrude. Just thought you might like to grab a drink down at the inn in town. I’m meeting an old friend there, an Altmer fellow so accomplished, some might say, that they kicked him out for it.”

Talvas sniffed again, calming slightly. “And why would I be interested?”

“You seemed frustrated having to review the basics. I think you’re craving something a little more interesting than teaching kids to summon woodland critters, right?”

Talvas begrudgingly agreed.

The Frozen Hearth was true to its name; though the fire burned steady, its heat hardly reached the dark and drafty corner where Enthir and Talvas situated themselves.

“It’s freezing in here! Why would you want to hang out down here?”

“Because we can’t do the sorts of things we wish to do at the college. Here comes our friend now.”

“Enthir.” Spoke the towering golden skinned figure wrapped in fine robes who approached their table. “And you’ve brought a guest. How unexpected.”

“Yes, Nelacar, this is Talvas. Talvas, Nelacar. Let’s get right down to it; Talvas here is a talented Mage who is bored with his lot at the college and-“

“Wait,” interrupted Nelacar, “his? I know a pair of breasts when I see them, Enthir.”

Talvas shrunk in on himself uncomfortably, fighting back another surge of rage and despair.

“A master wizard temporarily gender swapped him. But he’s-“

“Fascinating! Who? Would I know their work? They must be very powerf-“

“Alright, alright!” Enthir moved himself between Talvas and Nelacar, breaking the altmer’s hyperfocus. “Simmer down, he’s clearly uncomfortable with the whole situation so give him a break!” With a huff, Enthir plopped back down on the bench and straightened up. “As I was saying, he’s far more advanced than the current curriculum at the college and Archmage Sirene has him teaching conjuration. Even so, he’s too much of a scholar to stay away from experimentation, so I thought I’d let him in on your experiments. Who knows, maybe he’ll have some insight.”

Nelacar sat opposite Talvas and Enthir with his palms together and forearms resting on the wooden table.

“I ask this because I ask everyone who involves themselves in my work, not just because you are a Dunmer. Have you heard of Azura’s star?”

“… The artifact? Yes.”

“And you know what it does?”

Shrugging sheepishly, Talvas replied; “No, not exactly. Mas- er, I’ve been told it can be used like a soul gem.”

Nelacar brought his tented hands to his chin as he spoke; “Indeed, it seems similar to those who have not studied it at length. The main difference is its unbreakability, unfortunately due to the interference of Daedra. As such, my goal is to sever Azura’s link with the pocket of oblivion contained within the star.”

Talvas frowned. “I’m not interested.”

“And why not?” insisted Nelacar.

“Azura is a deity to my people. I have no interest in angering her.”

Enthir cocked his head to one side, eyeing Talvas with some unreadable expression.

Nelacar scoffed. “I should have known.” He followed the comment with some unintelligable grumbling about his dislike of the dunmer race. However, his displeasure seemed to fizzle abruptly as he shifted topics, “Well, if you’re not interested in that line of research, perhaps you could look into another side project of mine.”

Enthir shot his goat-eyed gaze to Nelacar, suddenly tense.

Talvas flinched, having noticed Enthir’s odd reaction. “Um… okay, what did you have in mind?”

Chapter Text

               Teldryn awoke very suddenly, a chill overcoming him as the blanket was ripped from his half-naked body. Before he could speak, Neloth threw a hand over his mouth and motioned for him to be quiet, drawing his attention to the door of their room at the inn. Not knowing what to expect, Teldryn rolled off one side of the bed with as few creaks as possible and his eyes darted around the barely-lit room for his sword. There was a bitter draft in the room that hadn’t been there when he’d gone to bed, otherwise he would not be bare chested and shivering. The glint of his dwarven metal sword shone from a corner of the room, and he tiptoed over to it, crouching low. It was then he felt his arm brush against something invisible. With no hesitation, his clenched fist barreled into the unseen party, knocking the wind out of the intruder as they doubled over in surprise and pain.

                In an instant, Neloth shot a paralysis spell at the figure now visible before them. They both recognized the darkened chitin armor sparsely decorated with an insignia of Mephala; the Morag Tong.

Without a moment to spare, Teldryn ran his sword through a gap in the assassins armor, and all the paralyzed mer could do was weakly cough up the blood that erupted into his throat. He feebly gurgled something unintelligible before expiring, limp and bleeding on the floorboards.

                “There should be more.” Teldryn growled, yanking his blade from between the dead mer’s ribs and wiping it across the fabric of the assassin’s uniform.

                “Indeed, but I don’t sense any others in this room. We should leave, now.” hissed Neloth, peering out the window. “Best not use the front door.”

                Before Teldryn knew it, Neloth had teleported himself to the snowy ground just outside the window, crouching and surveying the area. His knees throbbed, still aching from the walk the previous evening, and exacerbated by the wind chill. Seconds later, Teldryn leapt through the window, lending rather gracefully beside Neloth.

                “Sense anything?” Teldryn breathed, throwing his tunic over his bare chest.

                Neloth shook his head. “That does not mean there are none left. Guard behind, I’ll guard the front.”

                The two crept carefully away from the inn and into the trees nearby, Teldryn hurriedly strapping his armour across his body. The wind picked up, blowing snow over their tracks and biting through their vestments. With a small flash and sizzle, Neloth cast a warming spell over himself, and Teldryn called forth his ancestral fire, engulfing his body in a thin cloak of flame.

                “I sense something.” Neloth froze as the two apprehensively passed below the pine trees. He glanced back at Teldryn and scoffed; “you idiot! The glow of your flames will give us away!” He whispered angrily.

                “There’s barely any glow! Doesn’t matter, where are they?” he hissed back.

                “Above. No, behind. Yes. Both. They’re surrounding us. Prepare to fight.”

                Teldryn summoned his atronach and drew his sword. Neloth took a defensive stance and readied lightning in his palms.

                “There are five. Possibly six.” Neloth announced, no longer bothering to keep his voice down as an object whizzed by his ear, missing by a centimeter as he dodged. Another incantation and the air around his skin hardened into iron.

                Teldryn lunged in the direction the projectile had come from, making immediate contact with something. A thud followed and the assassin scrambled to get back on her feet and recast invisibility, but it was no use now. with a precise swipe of his sword, Teldryn all but decapitated his attacker, staining the snow with ribbons of blood.

                A blast of flame from the atronach’s palm struck another invisible assassin, rendering them visible for Neloth to blast with lightning, singeing the assassin’s facial hair. As Neloth raised his other hand, a forceful blast threw the assassin against the trunk of splintered juniper, a spike of wood erupting through his chest. The force of the tree against his skull had killed him almost instantly, so he made no noise other than the final rush of air escaping his lungs. 

                Teldryn and Neloth both steeled themselves to face the others, but after some time, none came. Teldryn’s atronach lazily flipped in the air, sensing no adversaries. Noticing her demeanor, both mer dropped their hands in confusion, looking every which way to see fleeing footprints.

                A high pitched yet subtle laugh echoed from the treetop. Teldryn drew his sword once more, but Neloth simply stared upwards. This was no threat to him; more of an annoyance.

                “You again?” Neloth sighed in irritation. “Must our paths cross every time I set foot in this frozen wasteland?”

                The laughter continued, drawing closer as its maker climbed down the tree branches before a flash of black and red, fell before them, and the man laughing made a rather catlike landing in the snow.

                Teldryn recognized that man as well. He, however, did not lower his guard.

                “Oh, very good! Yes! Very, VERY good! You and your blade make a very good show! Such… precision, he he he!”

                Neloth turned to face another figure standing behind them in the shadows. “You’ve got a different partner this time, I take it?”

                Teldryn pointed his blade at the laughing shadow before him, “show yourself.”

                “He he he! But of course! The mercenary remembers sweet Cicero, doesn’t he?” the madman laughed, stepping forward out of the shadows. “Quite astute, wizard! Cicero is only here to aid our newest recruit on her first job, though she’s a natural! Took out two of those wretched Tong members before you even laid eyes on them!”

                “Were you also sent to kill us?” growled Teldryn.

                “Oh no no no! Cicero was assigned to deal with some territory issues! Those nasty elves who were after you, no doubt! Our initiate Sansuna here figured they were from Morrowind, and the Morag Tong has no business here!”

                The voice of the other beneath the tree, Sansuna, spoke quietly but firmly, “Listener has informed us that the Morag Tong has been spotted in Skyrim. We’re only here to reestablish boundaries.” A young dunmer woman with cropped hair and facial tattoos stepped out of the shadows, and addressed Neloth. “We caught two just outside of Riften earlier. I translated a little bit of the writ, but it’s written in a dunmeri dialect I am not familiar with.” She glanced at the intricate swirls of Neloth’s robe, and her magenta eyes lit up. “A Telvanni, yes? You have probably studied this form of writing far more than I have. Would you do the honors, Serjo?” She held out a small, bloodied piece of parchment, and flinched when Neloth caught it in a telekinesis spell and brought it just before his eyes.

To Teldryn’s surprise, something on the parchment seemed to distress the wizard. His eyes widened and his face went pale grey, though only for a couple seconds. Teldryn attempted to read over his shoulder but upon reading the last line, Neloth caught the writ in his hand and folded it, slipping it into the satchel on his waist.

                Sansuna protested, “hold on! Listener may need that back to-“

                “You can tell her that it was addressed to me personally.” Neloth dismissed, turning to Teldryn. “Give the clown the ring.”

                Teldryn obliged unsurely. “Are you sure?”

                “You, clown.”

                “Jester.” Cicero corrected.

                “Bring this ring to the Dragonborn and have her destroy it. And whatever you do, don’t put it on.”

                Neloth had a renewed vigor when they started for the College once more. Teldryn found himself struggling to keep up, and suggested if they were going to keep such a pace they may as well rent horses. Neloth ignored him, preoccupied with the contents of the note, and kept walking silently and hurriedly. Once they could just make out the great Statue of Azura up on it’s snowy hill, Teldryn broke their silence.

                “What does that note say?”

                “It’s a writ for assassination.”

                “…and?” Teldryn knew Neloth would laugh in the face of most assassination attempts; what on Nirn made this one different? “Surely you’re used to people trying to kill you by now.”

                “I would have no problem if it was only ME she was after.”

                “She? Who is she?”

                “Hopefully the thugs she’s sent after us will follow that murder clown into his den and be wiped from the face of Nirn. But we have to beat the others to the college. They may be tracking Talvas too.”

                “Who IS she!?”

                “It explains everything; Varona’s death, my tower withering, and all those damned ash spawn. All because I couldn’t…” He trailed off, clenching his fists and in a fit of fury. Before he could explain further, he willed himself upward and levitated a few feet off the ground, then forwards at a speed that could not be matched on foot. He cared not that it was against Skyrim’s law, no Nord would be able to catch him anyway.

                “Wait! You can’t- Neloth its illegal to…” Teldryn didn’t bother finishing the thought. Neloth was too far ahead of him now; he would hopefully find him later at the college. He sighed. Were he not so worn out, he’d be nervous about what sort of threat would make Neloth react so rashly.

“I’m too old for adventuring…” he whispered to no one. Regret for offering to help Neloth began to set in, as it so often did. Straightening his spine, he heard the popping of multiple vertebrae which only offered minimal relief to the ache in his back. The snow had begun melting onto his boots, allowing a creeping wet cold that numbed his feet. The college was so small in the distance and his body exhausted. Almost convinced himself to turn around.

But then there was Sirene, who would no doubt be ecstatic to see him. If he could make it into her warm embrace, it would be worth it. He pondered ways in which he could convince her to step down from the College and create a home with him somewhere peaceful and warm. Perhaps Riverwood, though she no doubt would prefer proximity to the ocean. Steeling himself for the rest of his travels, Teldryn took a large swig of the matze in his flask, and continued onwards. Perhaps he would stop by the great statue and beg Azura for guidance. Though she’d long since stopped speaking to him, perhaps she could take pity on her former champion.