//------------------------------// // Prologue: a Divine chat, a Divine choice. // Story: Equestria's Unexpected Hero // by lightningcrash 300 //------------------------------// In the ethereal realm that lay between worlds, where beings of divine nature resided within the infinite expanse of the multiverse, a small group of three sat gathered at a table. The room was bathed in the warm glow of a roaring fireplace, casting shadows and flickering light upon their faces as they spoke earnestly to one another. The air was filled with an otherworldly energy and a sense of ancient wisdom, as if time had no meaning in this mystical place. "Are you sure this is a wise course of action brother?" The first woman, with a complexion as pale and pure as freshly fallen snow, spoke up hesitantly. Her voice was soft, like a gentle breeze rustling through the leaves. She stood tall and regal in her forest-green gown adorned with delicate gold trimmings. This was Kynareth, also known as one of the Nine Divines in the Cyrodilic pantheon. The golden strands of her long, flowing hair cascaded down her back like rays of sunshine in a deep green forest, adding to her ethereal appearance. Despite her hesitation, there was a strength and grace about her that was undeniable. The words seemed to hang in the air, heavy with a sense of guilt and hesitation. "We... that is... the other Divines and your predecessor," her voice faltered, "we promised him that he would be sent back home after his trials." Her eyes pleaded with him, silently begging for understanding. "What you suggest... it would be breaking his trust," she whispered, her voice trembling. "Surely," she implored, "you wouldn't do that to your old friend?" The weight of their shared history and friendship hung heavily between them, as if it could somehow sway his decision. But the gravity of the situation and the responsibilities placed upon him weighed even heavier on his conscience. Beside her sat a man, his form constantly shifting between that of a human and a dragon. The firelight danced across his red and gold scales, casting shadows onto the walls of his home. Despite his ever-changing appearance, he appeared to be in his middle years - his tanned skin occasionally replaced with the shimmering scales of a dragon. His eyes, a piercing glacial blue, seemed to see both the present and the unknown as they gazed into the flames. The fabric of his robes reflected both him and his divine sphere, with a pattern resembling scales woven throughout. And upon closer inspection, one could see small timepieces and hourglasses floating and drifting along the fabric, symbols of his mastery over time. This was Martian Septum, or as he's more commonly known after the third era's end, Akatosh. the dragon god of time, and the chief of the nine Divine's. "I know of the promise you speak dearest Kynareth...we could send him back yes...but from what you remember of our brief time together...he has already said that he had nothing to truly come back to there." spoke Martin, shaking his head. Akatosh's words hung heavy in the air, causing a deep furrow to form on Martin's brow. But among his thoughts and doubts, a gentle voice intervened. "That may be true, Akatosh...Martin," she said, a tinge of worry and concern evident in her tone. Martin paused his musings, turning to face his fellow goddess with a raised brow and a light smirk playing on his lips. The soft glow of the fire illuminated the contours of their faces, adding depth to their conversation. The corner of Martin's mouth twitched up in a wry smile as he posed the question, his voice dripping with playful sarcasm. "Yes...but do remind me...who was it that introduced her daughter's children to him during his trek through the treacherous lands of Skyrim?" A mischievous glint danced in his eyes before he continued, "the same girls that ended up rescuing our battle-worn hero and taking him under their wing as a little brother? I believe it was you, my dear friend." The memories of his old friends past adventures with those two flooded back, bringing a warmth to Martin's heart as he teased his companion. Kynareth let out a heavy sigh, her hand coming up to cover her face in frustration. "Fine, I'll give you the Septum," she conceded, her voice tinged with annoyance. Her worried frown only deepened as she asked, "But surely he has someone back home who would miss him?" Her heart sank as he shook his head, revealing the sad truth of his situation. "If you cannot recall, that is precisely the reason why you and the others forcefully brought him into Tamriel..." Martin's voice carried a tinge of anger as he spoke, before letting out a heavy sigh. A bottle, shimmering with a crystal blue light, poured its contents into a delicate glass for him. "Please forgive me...and thank you, niece," he uttered softly to the third woman, her face still concealed by the cloak and hood of rich parchment brown she wore. "You need not thank me, Uncle," she replied, her tone soft and gentle like the rustling of leaves in a gentle breeze. "I can sense the weight of this burden on your shoulders, knowing he was once your dear friend. And though I appreciate you taking my request into consideration, I also understand my mother's concerns." Her words were a soothing balm, like a warm blanket after a cold winter's night, comforting and calming in the midst of turmoil. "I've had discussions with her about this before," she began, her voice gentle and understanding. "She does agree on the matter, but she has concerns about how he will feel in that environment. Despite my daughters being there to support him." She paused, searching for the right words to explain her mother Kynareth's worries. The goddess gave a small, somewhat sad nod, her brow furrowed in thought. But her confusion was evident when Martin's lips curled into a small smirk, his eyes sparkling mischievously. "Thank you for explaining, my dear niece," the man said with a genuine smile, his deep voice rumbling like distant thunder. "I would be lying if I said I didn't have concerns as well... which is why I've taken some liberties over these millennia, dear Kyne." He admitted, his aged face creasing with amusement. He took a sip from his glass of Brandy, relishing the smooth taste of the liquor from his homeland of Cyrodiil. The flavors danced on his tongue, a perfect blend of sweetness and warmth. Letting out a contented sigh, he settled back in his seat, basking in the comforting atmosphere of his niece's home and the indulgence of this fine drink. “Liberties?” asked the goddess in confusion, looking over to her daughter who had looked away if the way the woman's hood shifted was anything to go by. “What liberties are you talking about?” Savoring the smooth burn of the Brandy, he gently placed the crystal glass back on the ornate table. “It took some convincing for those who were hesitant…a few clever trades and deals, nothing dubious of course…although one did require a bit of an altercation,” the mortal turned avatar nonchalantly shrugged. “But with time and the assistance of my dear niece here, I was able to transcend several souls into her realm.” He provided simply, snapping his fingers to summon a few more glasses to the table before the two goddesses. The bottle of brandy reappeared as if by magic, pouring a generous serving for each of them. The air around them seemed to shimmer with otherworldly energy as they indulged in their drinks amidst hushed conversation. Her eye twitched in a subtle display of annoyance, Kynareth would let out a weary sigh as she accepted the offered glass. The liquid within burned slightly as it slid down her throat, causing a slight grimace to grace her features. "How long have you two been planning this?" she asked, breaking the silence that had settled between the three of them for a few moments. Her voice held a hint of curiosity and perhaps a touch of irritation at being left out of the decision-making process. “It was my idea, Mother…” the cloaked woman said softly, looking down as she reached for the glass, a pale-skinned hand reaching out to take it so she might sample the offered brandy herself. “Mmm…slight burn, but a wonderful flavor. Anyway, I had brought the idea up to Uncle Akatosh…Martin…after the incident with that beast Harkon. After the loss of his companion during that fight…and in such a…violent fashion that it was…” she paused, a shudder going through her as she remembered the tales her daughters had told her, and the nightmares they had had afterward…it was a moment she would have rather been forgotten. “My daughters…my adopted little boy…they hurt so much…together they were able to pull through, yes, but from what I've been told and seen, there was always something…missing. I know that each of you was going to reward him in some way when you eventually send him back…and with the only way for him to go back home and live a normal life, you'd be forced to remove his memories of what he's done.” She stated simply, swirling the glass of brandy about, eyeing the dark reddish brown liquor in thought. “And that is something Martin and myself would HEAVILY be against…as well as the few Daedra that have decided to keep their eyes on him. To give him access to your afterlife would mean splitting his soul amongst Akatosh, your own realm, and the say…five Daedric princes he's caught the interest of? Technically six but…you know how it is with old Sheogorath.” She added, counting each name off on her fingers. “And doing that, you might as well just send him to the mad god with gift wrapping…but…then something happened on my end of things…my youngest daughter's banishment…for a thousand years now she has been alone, blaming herself for her sister's fall, and unable to seek solace from myself, or her adopted brother..” she ended with a shaky sigh. Placing a hand on his niece's shoulder reassuringly, Martin gave a weak smile. “It's alright…I'll continue, when she had told me of this…I'll admit that I had considered asking this before…but, I wanted to make sure that when and if he got there, he wouldn't be alone…as such, with permission, I tampered with the past a little. Allowing a few select souls a chance to reunite with their…our old friend.” He admitted, sighing softly as he downed the rest of his brandy. “I see…in hindsight, that is a wise decision I suppose…fair enough.” She relented, pushing her glass to the side. “Tell me brother…daughter, how many souls is a ‘few’ as you say?” She asked simply, her brow furrowed a bit. Martin glanced over to his niece, who let out a soft sigh and shifted in her seat. "Out of all the souls we could find and reach out to, only five have accepted our offer," she explained. "It may be a small number, but we are still making our way through the rest, thanks to Akatosh's influence over time. And if these individuals happen to remember their pasts before they are ready, we have a simple solution. It will merely seem like a series of vivid dreams or nightmarish visions until he arrives to jog their memories." Her voice was gentle and warm, with a hint of amusement in her smile that seemed to dance through her words. Sighing yet again, Kynareth shook her head in mild exasperation while massaging her temples. “Alright…I'll make the preparations…I hope you know what you are doing Martin, Faust.” She relented, voice firm towards the end as her daughter finally lowered the hood of her cloak. “Do not worry mother…we've planned this carefully and have taken precautions.” The woman, now revealed to be Faust, was obviously the youngest of the three, skin free of wrinkles, but covered in a soft layer of silky white fur, her eyes were larger and more expensive than a human, but fit her more equine-like features perfectly. Flowing down to her mid-back was a mane of straight if somewhat messy, crimson red hair with bangs that would have covered most of her eyes, if they were not parted by the long, slender horn that rested in the middle of her forehead. “All we need now is for our dear hero and friend to sleep…when he wakes, Talon will be in his new home, together with his family…”