Work Text:
The wind whistled cold and loud around Cloud Ruler temple. The din produced by the Blades’ training was almost entirely drowned out. She hadn’t heard his approach.
“A septim for your thoughts?”
The Hero of Kvatch straightened up, heavy armour clanking. “That’s an interesting way of coping with your predicament.”
Martin laughed softly at this before leaning on the rail next to his friend. “Not an intentional pun, mind you. I’m still getting used to the idea of it.” He continued, smile failing, shifting to something more reflective.
“I wasn’t thinking.” Avery declared loudly.
Martin should avoid too much introspection; with the mental toll of reading the Mysterium Xarxes, portals to Oblivion itself opening up everywhere, and the stress of finding out you’re the last heir to the Septim dynasty? She feared for his health. Not that she’d admit it aloud.
As soon as the words had left her mouth, she was once again struck with how inarticulate she was. Before gaining the title of Hero of Kvatch she’d never particularly bothered to socialise with people past a certain extent, the positive reputation of her newly-earned title did little to aid this. Nothing to exploit or lose, a simple mercenary at heart. This approach to life had begun to show its flaws. Especially in the middle of a world-wide disaster. Someone more charismatic might have been better suited. Then again, would they be a competent fighter as she? Sword sharp, words blunt.
Out of the corner of her eye she could see Martin’s well masked confusion, only betrayed by a quirk of his eyebrow.
“I was observing.” She gestured to the training in an attempt to save face. The Septim follows the imperial’s line of sight and nods understandingly.
“May I ask you something? You don’t have to answer, obviously.” Martin glanced sideways, meeting her eye. Avery’s face scrunched, trying to search for an indication of where this is going.
“Very well.” She relented.
“What drives you?” Do you have an aim in life?”
The woman snorts at this, not exactly what she would consider a prying question. Although her answer is not the most moral, she is at least honest enough with herself to know what it truly is. And given Martin’s vague allusions to his history he would not be one to judge so harshly.
The priest softened the break in conversation with an over dramatic narrowing of his eyes. “I don’t think it’s coin, but please, do correct me if I’m wrong. If the Blades should need to consider paying you, that is.”
“Power.”
“Power?” He echoed, brow furrowing. “That’s quite vague and likely dangerous. To what end?” The priest consoled himself with the idea she didn’t seem like the type to jump at any opportunity for it, as wilful as she usually was.
“I…” her eyes found the mountains, she focused on gathering her words. “To be able to do what I want.”
“With power comes fame and responsibility-“
“I don’t want fame.”
“Are you sure, Hero of Kvatch? Would you rather be emperor instead of me?” He smiled dryly.
“I do not envy you.” She mirrored the expression. “With power comes attention, good and bad… but I do not care about recognition as much as I desire… freedom. I do not wish to be subservient to anyone. My choices must be my own. I want the power to carve out my own path. I don’t want to be…”
She lowered her gaze. Weak. Unable to act. Unable to fix things. Unable to protect. As she has been on many occasions; recent occasions. The emperor’s assassination. The Grey Prince. It was never enough. Fate was cruel and she wanted no part in it.
“So you desire freedom.”
“Perhaps.” She sighed, flexing her fingers as if to alleviate the awkwardness she felt. “I was never cut out to be a philosopher. I think and then I just… do.”
“Well whatever you do, be careful of how you go about this pursuit of power. And by The Divines, please don’t meddle with daedra.”
“More so than I’m already doing?” The poor joke doesn’t disguise how Avery was unsure to appropriately respond to the genuine pain behind his words.
“Yes, I suppose that's all I can ask.” He deflated, eyes downcast.
They settled into silence until Martin inclined his head towards the heavy set of stone doors.
“It’s cold out and you look like you could use some rest.” He rubbed at the sides of his arms to drive the point home.
Avery mirrored the action, wrinkling her nose.
“Us both with your eyebags.”
“There’s soup.”
“Good. All this introspection has made me famished.”
“Not whatever adventure you’ve just been on?”
“I’ll tell you about it when we’re inside - when I’ve got this aforementioned soup.”
“Fair enough.” He rolled his eyes. “I will hold my enthusiasm.”
The pair hurriedly retreated to the main hall, into the warmth and hushed whispers of Cloud Ruler Temple.