Morrowind, A fanfic Options

[Alexander]

Another fanfic about Morrowind you must be asking yourself? Do we really need yet another one? I've asked myself the same question
As some of you might know I tried a hand at writing some two+ years back, resulting in two chapters of something I didn't really like looking back. Though even back then, I'd had the idea for another, a different fanfiction.

For some reason despite the fact that I was very much convinced I was not a good writer, this idea stayed with me through all this time and kept nagging at me. Then early this year I decided to simply give it a go again, and the result is something I'm actually quite fond of. This is the result.

It's a fan fiction about Morrowind, set in the time after the events in the game Morrowind but before the events in Oblivion. It's told from the perspective of three people who play a large part in Morrowind's future, at least the future I've created with some parts told by other characters.

As you'll notice, some events in chapters start a little while before the end of the past chapters, just a heads up there.

And lastly, before I bore you all to death with my rants I'd just like to extend a very large thank you, firstly to everyone who ever read "Alexander in Morrowind" and told me it was good (whether they meant it or not ) and second a very special thank you to Treydog who sacrificed quite a bit of his spare time in order to proof read this story, and who played the role of Editor for me. I'm very grateful for that.

Now, on to the story.







The year is 3E 432 many things have changed since the return of the lord Nerevar, and even more things are changing. Four Great Houses have a new head. The Tribunal gods are slain. Temple doctrine is falling and failing rapidly. Oppression of other faiths has been removed. Many rumours float around, rumours of things unheard of in the very near past; The lord Nerevar wants to abolish slavery, Indoril generals are taking bribes and forsaking their honour, some or all of the Tribunal gods were killed by the lord Nerevar, the lord Nerevar used the powers of the heart of Lorkhan to make himself immortal and godlike, secret cults are rising in Cyrodiil, Imperial legions are being recalled to Cyrodiil to quell the unrest, king Helseth poisoned the last king, Mehrunes Dagon has come to earth in the guise of queen Barenziah, Sheogorath has started a love affair with Azura, Bosmer everywhere are planning the end of the world, Orcs have taken to worshiping Khajiit instead of Malacath.

Some rumours are a bit wilder then others of course, but if only half of them are true the future promises to be spectacular.

This story starts in Ebonheart, in the Grand Council chambers where the lord Nerevar is preparing for what could be the most important council meeting in many years.

[Alexander]

“Tell me,” the emperor continued, “do you believe in the Nine divines?”

What an odd question to ask at a time like this. Varvur considered, but not wanting to insult the emperor, he answered none the less.

“I do not, I worship my ancestors, but my father tells me I was born when the Steed constellation was at its brightest in many centuries.”

At that the emperor nodded, and gestured for the Blades to lead on. The next room proved empty. There was a corridor leading onwards and both Blades insisted on checking it before they went on. As soon as they were halfway through, the emperor once again turned to Varvur and spoke,

“Young Mer, my time grows short. Thankfully it shall not be long now. Please, take this amulet; it is the Amulet of Kings, and only the rightful heir to the throne may wear it and use it to thwart the efforts of the usurper. Please, take it and your lord Nerevar’s blade and find my loyal Blade, Jauffre, at Weynon Priory. He alone knows where to find the last heir of my line.” With that, the emperor handed him a huge amulet and the blade of Nerevar.

As Varvur considered those words, and the enormity of the task, he was not ready when a part of a wall suddenly slid open and an assassin emerged from it. The red-robed killer went straight for the emperor and slashed open his throat. Only when he advanced on Varvur did Varvur drop lord Nerevar’s blade and ready his katana. The assassin only had a knife, and Varvur a long blade, so no glory was earned during that fight.

After the assassin was dead, he heard a wail from behind him, and spun around, raising his blade. But then he lowered it again. Baurus has been the one to voice the wail. He clutched the body of his emperor and looked bereft. Varvur sought to comfort him and explained what the emperor had told him before he died. He also tried to offer the amulet to Baurus, thinking it was rightly the province of the Blades to care for the emperor’s relic.

“Thank the Nine; our work might not have been in vain after all. No, I thank you for trusting me with the amulet, but the emperor gave it to you; it is your destiny to aid the heir, not mine.”

Varvur followed Baurus to the exit, only stopping at the last dead Blade to pick up his armour. Robbing the dead wasn’t really something Varvur liked, but with no armour, his chances of surviving would be small. As they came to the exit, Baurus showed him a way to get outside the city at once, and promised to clear Varvur’s record so no guards would come after him, no matter what crime had been committed. Varvur followed the Blade’s directions, and went through a sewer gate.

Crawling through it, he found himself a little way to the south of the Imperial City. Looking at himself, he found he didn’t look as bad as he might have. With the Blades armour, he might have looked even better then before. He knew he had to hurry. More time had passed then he cared to think on and he knew he had to be sleeping in the tavern at Pell’s Gate by tonight lest he lose his chance to meet this Lucien, the next step on the path to finding Nerevar’s murderers.

He strapped his katana to his back, and tightened the strap around his waist as well, making sure lord Nerevar’s blade would not be lost and slowly got into the water. It was quite cold, and by the time Varvur crawled out on the other side, he was chilled to the bone. He walked in the direction he knew he would find the tavern and luckily, before long he was looking at it. Now came the next dilemma; he had no money. Everything had been taken when he had been thrown into jail, but Varvur decided to be bold. Who needs money when he wears the armour of the Emperor’s own guards?

He proudly walked into the tavern, demanded food, drink and a bed and bid the innkeeper to send the bill to the palace. He wasn’t the first to do so apparently, as the innkeeper looked sullenly at him, but did not say a word against it. He handed Varvur a key to his room and promised to bring along food and drink shortly. Varvur was very glad to once again have a warm bed, and good food. Prison meals simply didn’t cut it compared to this. After he’d had his meal, he went to bed. He took his blade with him, wanting to make sure no one could surprise him during the night.

Even so, he was surprised. Near dawn, he suddenly heard a voice from across the room.

“Come on sleepyhead, haven’t you slept enough? We have quite a bit to do today, so you’d better get moving.”

Varvur sat up, holding his katana in front of him. In the shadows he saw the outline of a hooded, cloaked man, an Imperial by the sound of his voice.

“Are you Lucien?”

“Yes, very good, my name is in fact Lucien Lachance, and your name is Varvur Sarethi. What a pleasure it is to meet such a noble figure so far from home.”

And as Lucien laughed, Varvur somehow got the impression that he was being mocked, but it didn’t matter.

“You mentioned we would be going somewhere? Where are we going? And how do you know who I am?”

“Ah, so many questions for one so young as yourself, but before I answer, a question of my own. Would you not come to work for the Dark Brotherhood instead? You did such a great job getting information out of Fafnir; he must have screamed all night.”

And another loud laugh. Varvur felt sickened; how could this man know so much about him? Nevertheless, he resolved his anguish and answered,

“I would never join you. I did what needed be done, not because I enjoyed it but because I had to.”

“Yes, of course that’s what they all say at first. But no matter, forget I asked. No true Redoran would ever be a good Brother anyway; you’re all far too noble for your own good. Anyway, moving along here; yes, I did in fact mention we would be going on a trip. How familiar are you with the ruling body of the Dark Brotherhood, young noble?”

“I know you’re ruled by 5 people in total, but little else.”

“Very good,” replied Lucien. “Yes 5 people indeed, one listener, and four speakers, together the five fingers of a hand, a black hand that is. I’m a speaker, I speak for the Listener, and the listener has heard the Night Mother had business with you personally. So it is my job to take you to the listener. Now either we can leave today together, or if you refuse, I must ask my operatives to pick you up and escort you there. The choice young Sarethi, is entirely yours.”

With a smile on his face, Lucien sat back and observed Varvur. To Varvur the choice wasn’t a hard one. He had wanted to find the head of the Dark Brotherhood from the start; if people would take him there and shorten his journey, all the better.

“I will come with you,” he told Lucien.

“Wonderful sir, your steed awaits outside, please meet me there in ten minutes.”

And with that, Lucien slowly faded back into the shadows. No door ever opened, no sound was made, but when Varvur got up to look in the corner where Lucien had just sat, there was no longer anyone there. All that was left on the chair was a black hooded robe. It was probably meant for him.