User blog:Apollo42/Bellum Morgani: Chapter 3

“It is with much sorrow in my heart that I announce that my husband, Emperor Cyrus I Morgan, is dead.” Mara announced to the crowds, from her podium on the steps of the Imperial Palace in New Imperia. Her family was arrayed behind her, including the new Emperor, his wife and children, and Prince Aenis.

A shocked murmur ran through the crowds, and it seemed like some people had even burst into tears. Cyrus had always been good to the smallfolk, and his reputation as a hero of Tamriel, not once but twice, surely helped bolster the goodwill that was directed towards him.

“Now, a new reign dawns. The reign of Emperor Arik II!” She announced, and the crowd initially looked confused. Even they, despite their generally low births, knew that Cyrus had named Fyra his heir when he first assumed the throne. However, they started to clap.

Fanfare sounded, three dragons roared, and then the crowd dispersed. It was, unfortunately, not the reaction that Mara had been hoping for.

“They don’t want me as their ruler, mother.” Arik muttered, when they had reentered the Palace and he was seated on his throne.

“Fyra will murder your children.” Mara retorted, in a sing-song voice. “She’s probably already gathering her allies to come and chop off your head.”

“I move that we raise a fleet and take her precious little castle, right now.” Prince Aenis put in, standing beside his mother. He was the younger of Mara’s two royal children. His hair fell to his shoulders in a black, curly wave, and his green eyes had a cruel glint in them. Well, his eye. The other eye had been stabbed out years before by another Prince, and a black eyepatch now hung over it. Still, he was undeniably handsome, with a strong jaw and a radiant smile. He wore white armor, and a white cape tumbled from his shoulders. His crown was similarly made of white adamantium, with pearls and opals set deep into tall spikes, although it was more stylized as a helmet, given his propensity for battle.

“They have more dragons than us.” Arik pointed out, trying to placate his brother. He did not really want his first action as Emperor be to embroil them in a war. “We only have three of fighting size, at least right now.”

“Yes, but none of their dragons are even close in size to Castere.” Aenis said, proudly. “He and I can easily bring down any dragon that challenges us.”

“But together-” Arik began, but Mara held up a hand.

“We need allies in the war that is coming, my son.” Mara said, turning her cold gaze on Arik, unimpressed by his apparent cowardice. I should have set Aenis on the throne. “High Rock, Hammerfell, and the mainland Abecean provinces will surely turn towards Fyra’s side, due to her proximity to them. I move that we reach out to Helaena’s father in Skyrim, the Queen of Morrowind, the King of Summerset, and the Queen of the Underland.”

“The Queen of the Underland?” Arik frowned. “She will not embroil herself in a foreign war, mother, you know what she is like-”

“Did I ask for your opinion?” Mara snapped, irritated by his lack of ambition. Arik bristled, but Mara continued before he could say anything. “You will personally visit her with your dragon and a contingent of soldiers. If you remind her of your personal connection to her, she will be obliged to assist.”

“Allow me to travel to Summerset, mother.” Aenis offered, giving the Empress Dowager a smile. “I am not engaged, and I can offer myself as a potential husband for one of his daughters. With his fleet, we can surely overwhelm that of Daggerfall. No one could stand against us.”

“We can use his fleet to blockade the Topal Bay.” Mara agreed. “Force them to fight an inland fight. Even with the aid of the Redguards, they could not hope to win against the combined might of the Legions, the Nords, and the Dunmer.”

“There is a second option.” The new Empress, Helaena, put in. She was conventionally pretty, with chocolate brown hair and big brown eyes, but she had none of the beauty that belonged to the true Morgans, like what had been possessed by Fyra in her youth. She wore a high-necked purple gown that fell to the floor and a simple silver circlet.

Mara turned to her normally quiet daughter-in-law with a look of surprise. “What do you mean?”

“Gather your allies just in case.” Helaena said, meeting each of the Morgans’ gazes in turn. “But I think we should offer Fyra terms of surrender. Give her a fair chance to accept her place as a Princess.” Inwardly, Helaena did not want to go to war against her sister-in-law. They had always had a fairly amicable relationship, and she personally thought that she should have been on the throne. Of course, it was too late to turn back now, and she had to support her husband.

“I agree.” Arik nodded, glancing at his mother.

“No.” Mara said, coldly, staring at Helaena. “I will not allow-”

“Unfortunately for you, I am the Emperor, am I not?” Arik snapped, caustically. “And I agree with my wife’s plan. She will be sent to the Topal Island and will offer her terms to my sister. Understood?”

“She will laugh while you bleed.” Mara turned on her heel and swept from the room, taking Captain Red with her.

“Alright. We all have our missions. Get moving.” Arik ordered, and Aenis nodded, begrudgingly, still unwilling to accept that his brother was also now his ruler. The three of them took a royal carriage to the Imperial Arena, which had been converted into a Dragon Stable when the Morgans took power.

Even with its immense size, it still was barely big enough to fit the dragon Castere comfortably. Castere, the Gray Storm, was the mount of Prince Aenis, and the largest dragon alive. Seventy meters long from snout to tail, and with legs thicker than a young grahtwood, the dragon was capable of eating young dragons whole. The dragon’s scales were as gray as the darkest stormclouds.

Hassta, the dragon of Empress Helaena, was not even half the size of Castere. Dreamfyre’s scales were a dark blue, like sapphires, although her belly and the skin stretching between her wings were a tan beige color.

Seran, the dragon of the Emperor, was slightly larger than Hassta, but still nowhere near Castere’s size. He was renowned as the most beautiful dragon alive, with golden scales that shimmered in the sun like the most radiant treasure on earth. His belly and the skin stretching between his wings were a deep apple red, as were his eyes.

The three ‘usurpers’ set out, heading towards their respective quests.

Fyra watched through her window at the two dragons approaching her castle. Her children had not even left yet on their own missions, and now there were two dragons coming for them. “Tarin!” She shrieked, and her husband rushed off to mount his own dragon.

However, the larger dragon, who Fyra instantly recognized as Castere, passed right over them. She watched as the massive dragon disappeared into a bank of storm clouds, removing itself from her sight.

The other dragon, however, landed in her courtyard.

A guardsman ran into her room. “Helaena… the false empress… has come to see you.” He said, in between gasps for breath.

“Bring her into the throne room.” Fyra ordered, straightening the crown on her head and rushing to sit down on her royal seat before the other woman could enter and find her house so disarrayed by her sister-in-law’s arrivals.

“Sister.” Helaena greeted, warmly, striding into the room like they were the best of friends. She had changed into white riding leathers, tall boots, and a loose, white tunic. She walked right up to the dais and kissed Fyra on both cheeks, giving her a wide grin.

Fyra couldn’t help but smile. Despite her feelings about her brother, she had always liked Helaena. She was so genuine and kind, and almost as well-liked by the smallfolk as Cyrus had been. “I pray that you have come to return me my crown. Sister, I know that your husband would not have taken it without his mother. I will spare you all and only take her, I promise.”

“I am afraid that that is not why I am here, Princess.” Helaena replied, with a small smile.

“Empress.” Fyra corrected, standing up so that she and Helaena were face-to-face. “What is the nature of this visit, then?”

“I humbly request that you relinquish your throne, on order of Emperor Arik II Morgan.” Helaena began. “In return for giving up your claim to the throne without bloodshed, you will retain your title here in the Topal Bay. Your sons by Harren will be your heirs here and in Daggerfall, and your sons by Tarin will be placed in the line of succession, after Prince Aenis, after the Emperor’s trueborn children.”

Fyra stared at her with a blank expression, almost wondering if her sister-in-law was kidding. When Helaena met her gaze evenly, Fyra drew herself up to her full height and stared the Empress Consort in the eye.

“And here are my terms, Helaena. You and your usurper of a husband will abdicate the throne and head north, returning to your seat in Solitude. Your crown, your future, will not be stolen from you.” Fyra took a step forward, forcing Helaena to take a step back, stumbling backwards down the stairs. “Your home will not burn in dragonfire. Your children will not die, crying, in their sleep. You will not die, screaming, nor will you be thrown from a tower for your insolence, as the last Usurper did.”

Helaena turned on her heel and strode to the doorway to the room, having received the answer that she had been sent to get and catching the reference to the last Empress that Fyra had overthrown, Arianna Morgan. At the archway, she paused, and turned to look at the Empress-in-exile. “You would risk war for your pride, sister?”

“No.” Fyra said, coolly, seating herself on her throne, surrounded by the statues of the founders of the Morgan bloodlines. Arik Everking stood behind her throne, his arms outstretched, palms up, as if blessing her. “I would bring war upon your heads for what is mine.”

Helaena looked slightly stunned by Fyra’s stubbornness, but she turned and left the room all the same. The flapping of wings as Hassta took off was Fyra’s signal that the Empress Consort had left the island.

The Emperor flew down, using the largest entrance, into the Underland. He was still stunned by the grandeur of the underground civilization, despite the fact that he had been down there on multiple occasions.

He glanced at the numerous Underelf soldiers aboard dragons that flew up to him to act as an escort to their city, although to Arik it felt more like a threat than an invitation. Their dragons were only the size of warhorses, due to some magic that had been laid on the Underland.

Dragon eggs that hatched down there only grew to a tenth of the size of those dragons hatched in the overland, which explained the size of Princess Bella’s dragon, Moone. However, it was known that some of the Underland dragons were sentient, capable of speech, including the Queen’s own mount.

The city itself was a grand thing, carved out of the stone, in a similar manner to Markarth. The palace was carved deep into the mountainside, atop a cliff that overlooked the city, in a manner that was both beautiful and practical for defense. On foot, the only way into the palace was with the platform that could be raised or lowered, but there was no other way without wings, as it was too high for any levitation spell.

Arik descended into the open-air hall of the palace, in which the throne of the Underland sat, a stone seat carved into the shape of a dragon, surrounded by three other seats, unoccupied, carved into the shape of a lion, a wolf, and an eagle. Atop that grand dragon seat was the Heroine of Tamriel, Champion of Meridia, Mother of the First Emperor, Queen of the Underland, the Everqueen.

Arik’s grandmother, Maria Harin.

Despite the fact that she was now well into her sixties, she still appeared capable of wielding the sword she so loved, Dawnbreaker, so Arik made sure to stay out of sword’s reach.

She also appeared to be crying, clutching to a piece of paper in her hand. Arik glanced at it, and saw that it was the notice that had gone out to all the Provinces, telling of his father’s death. “Grandmother?” He whispered, stepping forward.

“Don’t call me grandmother, you thieving bitch.” She snapped, her red-and-gray hair swinging as she stared at him with hatred and murder in her eyes. “I should have known never to trust a child of that woman. My son has been dead for nearly a week, and you didn’t think to tell me?”

“My Queen?” Arik murmured, taking a step back. “We were occupied, trying to keep… my sister from finding out and dragging us into a war before we were ready…”

“Oh, I see.” Maria said, slightly amused, crossing one leg over the other as she stared at Arik like a serpent about to bite at his heel. He shivered, momentarily, and then heard Seran roar outside. He remembered that to get rid of a serpent, one had only to crush its head.

“You would never come to give your dear old grandmother a visit, would you?” The Queen of the Underland laughed, drily. “No, you want me to commit my men to fight in a war to protect your throne. Oh, please. Do it.”

“Do what?” Arik asked, confused by the woman that sat before him.

“Ask.” Maria retorted, languidly.

“I don’t need to ask.” Arik spat, tired of the woman’s nonchalant attitude. “I am your Emperor, and I order you to hand over your men, or face the consequences!”

This time, the whole room burst into laughter at his statement. Arik looked around, stunned that these people would dare laugh at him, when he had a massive dragon outside.

“You think you’re my Emperor, little boy?” Maria chuckled. “The Underland is no more yours than Oblivion belongs to Akatosh. We have never been conquered, and you will never be able to. I am not afraid of an insignificant, whiny pushover of a Boy Emperor when he cannot even threaten me properly.”

“Now look here-” Arik began, but Maria once again cut him off.

“No, you look here, little boy.” She spat, standing up and drawing herself to her full height. “You cannot even comprehend how out of your depth you are down here, and up there. You’ve spent your life playing around, and now you seek to play the ruling game with men and women who have spent their lives rolling the dice? You’re a fool, and fools die. Allow me to give you a little advice, grandmother to grandson: Get out now. Abdicate. You can’t win.”

“She’ll kill my children if I give up.” Arik murmured, quietly. “I can’t give up…”

“Then kill hers first.” Maria shrugged. “I could care less, really. Just do it in your own home, and not in mine. Shove off, kid.”

The guards moved, grabbing the Emperor by the arms, showing no regard for his ‘royal person.’ He was dragged from the room, and almost shoved him towards his dragon.

As he climbed on board, he felt a keen sense of shame and anger at the disrespect with which he had been treated by the Queen of the Underland. “One day, you will come to realize the grievous error that you have committed.” He called up, as he could see his grandmother watching from the window. “You will know the same pain that will come to your granddaughter.”

Arik was stunned to see that Maria grabbed a bucket from beside her, all the way up in her tower. The next instant, he felt the foul-smelling glop hit his face. He really hoped it was just the leftovers of a rotten meal, and not…

"A curse on your house.” Arik growled, quietly, invoking a small sign that his mother had taught him, learned from a wandering Hagraven, and slapped Seran’s neck, probably a little too hard. The dragon roared in anger, and flapped its wings. It wasn’t a graceful take off, but it did the job as they quickly moved into the ‘sky,’ or the closest thing to it in the dismal caves that made up the Underland.

“My dear, you look absolutely awful!” Empress Dowager Mara gasped, rushing to her son as he stomped in, simultaneously shoving her daughter-in-law to the side.

“Her Majesty, High Queen Cunt of the Underland has refused me.” Arik growled, accepting a servant’s towel in order to try to wipe some of the foul gunk off of his face. “She will not get away with it. I swear, the moment my sister has sworn her fealty I will invade that backwater, underground kingdom and throw the Queen out of her own tower.”

“I’m afraid that I have bad news on that front, Your Grace.” Helaena stated, keeping her distance from her Lord Husband. There was no love lost between them, and neither of them regretted it. In fact, the only reasons they still saw each other was for court functions or to attend their children.

“Helaena, do not tell me anything I do not wish to hear.” Arik growled, sitting himself down upon the Ruby Throne as he stared at his wife, still covered in filth. Helaena stepped up, seating herself on the smaller throne that was beside it, that reserved for the Consort.

“I’m sorry, my lord, but Empr- Princess Fyra has refused your terms. She will not back down and give you the throne.” Helaena said, quietly, so as to not enrage her husband and send him into one of his black moods.

“She will come to regret it.” The Emperor growled, adjusting his crown on his head. “Ready the fleet. I want the Island invaded.”

“I’m afraid that it will take at least three weeks to alert the Navy, and many more to draw it in its entirety back from the farthest reaches of Tamriel.” Helaena replied. “We need to find another way to keep the Usurper at bay until then.”

“I’ll figure it out, I promise.” Arik replied, rising and patting his wife on the arm, as if to reassure her, though it was really him who needed reassuring. His half-sister, Fyra, and cousin, Tarin, had a lot of experience toppling regimes, and he worried that he would be next.

“I’m going to clean off, and then retire to my chambers.” The Emperor of the Ruby Throne said, glancing around the room. Of course, all of them knew what that meant, but no one would dare remind His Majesty what ‘fidelity’ meant.

Helaena buried her head in her hands and rubbed her eyes, confused as to how her life had gone so strangely. When she had been arranged to marry Arik, she had never imagined that she would be an Empress, and now the world lay at her feet.

Although, all the world’s gifts were being set aflame, it seemed.