Chapter Text
A heart. The Heart. Beating. Endlessly Beating. The Mountain Forms. The Children Follow. The Tower Walks.
Voryn awoke covered in sweat, his eyes wide with horror, but with no recollection as to why. Nerevar awoke beside him, far slower, worried by his lover’s stress. “Voryn, what’s wrong?” He turned to look Dagoth in the eyes as he spoke, but no words left the Lord High Councillor’s mouth, he couldn’t describe what he’d seen. Instead, he wrapped his arms around Indoril, and wept.
When asked in the morning, Voryn still couldn't recall the dream, but he knew it filled him with dread, and it had something to do with the dwemer. He never mentioned the second part to Nerevar, however, he already felt like he'd pushed limits in accusing Dumac before.
Instead, he rose from his bed and tried to shake his mind of it all, of the dwemer, of the dreams, today was for his love, for the Hortator. Soon their king would leave the Isle, and so the House had planned a grand ceremony for his exit. One he would not soon forget, and one Voryn would be behind it all, as head of the House and by extension the Council. House Dagoth was known for it’s rather unorthodox celebrations, it was more separate from it’s fellow houses, more intune with it’s tribal past. It was a house of music, its ancient ritualistic bells one of the most recognisably Dagoth things to a mainland dunmer. And so, this would be their gift to Nerevar, his gift to Nerevar. This was a lightly kept secret, Nerevar knew they had something planned, only the extent of these plans was hidden.
The councillor began to dress, layer after layer of his traditional garb, each robe and ribbon a tale of their house, a message of devotion to it’s ancestors, he hoped one day to feature in the elaborate history weaved into the fabric, even if ever so slight. “I do wish you didn’t have to leave so soon, Nerevar.” he remarked in disappointment. He responded with a light smile back “We each have our duties, I’m afraid, and not all of them can be fulfilled together.” The Indoril equally wore his cultural dress, but as a leader in war it was still armour, a constant, comforting reminder to his people of the victories he has led the velothi to. “Even so, it is a shame they bring us so far apart. If I were a lesser mer, less devoted to my House, I think I’d be jealous of your advisors, their duties bound to the Mournhold palace, and to your side.” He held his head up high, positioning his house loyalty above all else, but in truth he still felt that jealousy, Sil and Vivec had not known him half the time he had, but were almost always at his side.
And there was his Queen of course, Indoril Almalexia, Matriarch of his House and thorn in Voryn’s side. He was happy his friend had found love, in those brief intimate moments between the two he could cherish the love as if it were his own, but that was the issue, it wasn’t his own. High class nobility, firm mainlander, the differences between the two drove a stake through the Dagoth’s heart, he had married someone so separate from him, it made him doubt they’re own love. There were similarities, though, their leadership, kind and welcoming in peace, a love for their people that quickly became a hatred for their enemies, but had Nerevar truly fallen for their political manoeuvring?
“Voryn?” That sweet, familiar voice quickly pulled him from his internal ramblings. “I believe it’s time for us to go.” And with that they head out to Koghorun, to let the festivities begin.
His arms raised high, draped in ancient ancestral robes, the Lord High Councillor announced himself to the crowd. “People of Koghorun, visitors and natives alike, today we celebrate the deeds of our hero, and of my friend, the Hortator Indoril Nerevar.” He gestured to the Chimer beside him as the crowd cheered. He was a great public speaker, it was a natural talent of his, his words so heavy, larger than life, yet sounding so personal. Each listener felt like they truly knew Voryn. Nerevar bows before the crowd, waving, trying to humble himself while still living up to their expectations of their great hero. Voryn continues “He has been our hero since he was first named Hortator. In our time of strife, the champion of Azura gathered us together to drive off the nordic dogs, and free Resdayn from their grasp!” they cheer again, and he smiles over to his friend. It’s obviously played up for the crowd, but he did truly admire his friend, there was love behind each word. “But he is not just a wartime general, now in peace he upholds the unity of the houses and tribes of the Velothi, we stay gathered under his banner, as One Clan Under Moon And Star!” He holds up the ring on his finger as they yet again cheer, showing this new ring as a literal representation. Their heads together, the two smile at each other, before the cheering begins to die down and the music begins.
In this grand celebration of their great cultural hero, Dagoth wouldn’t give up the chance to show off their unique charm. The drums begin, a choir of young chimer beginning to chant the beginning of the song.
Resdaynill kan tarcel
Ghardooni ye fevel
An old war song, from the War of Succession, but it was still popular, most of Resdayn were veterans anyway. Voryn and Nerevar both retreated from the stage as the casual festivities begin. “A little much” Nerevar said, turning to Voryn and letting out a light chuckle.
Arcta nu malatanya
He responded with a sincere smile, “Not at all” as he spoke he looked out across the cheering chimeri crowds “You’re a hero to them, a liberator, a king”
Vengha ehlnada-dra
he turned back to Nerevar and took his hand, “and you’re a good friend, Nerevar” and more, so much more, but he couldn’t say that, not here, not now.
Nu nu vane metanane