Chapter Text
(Reason as for why using the Faust legend as inspiration? Well, funny enough, Clavicus Vile is based of Mephistopheles. Anyway, it´s kind of like Faust in reversed order of the acts.)
1th of Morning Star/January
"You can't possibly mean it, oh Goddess of Light." The smug grin of the daedra of wishes is unmistakable. "You truly believe the mortal is going to stay by your side... How cute. You're overestimating the elven loyalty and kindness... None of them anything their species is known for." Not that the treacherous prince could call himself any better.
Meridia furrowed her brows in fury. "I know the light in his heart will not lead him astray, or into your dark, treasonable maze!"
Vile smirked, mockingly. "Oh really? And if it does, you'll be right there to whip him back again, won't you? You truly are a kindred spirit..."
Oh well, Meridia was known for her benevolence towards mortals kind, and hatred towards any non-living, wandering creature. But to classify her nature as "good" or "loving" was many steps too far. Merida, however, did either hide this truth within her heart, choose to ignore it fully out, or was simply too little reflective of a person to realise this.
Clavicus Vile, on his side, was not only fully aware, but had also taken Meridia´s faith in her beloved, precious champion as a direct challenge. The elf had caught his interest.
It had all started a few months back, of where the elf Methilan Theophilus had single-handedly slaughtered every so-called abomination from his shrine, with an inferno of fire and lighting. He had not stopped to chat, however, but immediately left for Meridia´s shrine, where he had knelt down before the daedra, and prayed for further assistance. Further help, in his goal, in his life´s quest. In the passion of his life. His passion, bapthized in the blood of the undead.
Meridia thought him her champion. Her own personal plaything, and minion in her deadly game. How incredibly foolish. To think that this elf would not, like all other mortals, bow to the every whim of whoever could offer them something greater, the true wish of their heart. All you needed was the right "conditions", and the right honey-sugared words.
"My champion will stay faithful to the light! No matter what devilish contracts you may offer! I see the light in him!" Meridia pursued on.
"You can't even see further than your own nose." Vile scoffed. "But fine, if you have such faith in him, then you won´t mind it tested? A bet, maybe?"
"I have no doubt he will succeeded in whatever challenge you confront him with!" She replied, steadily.
"I´ll hold you to that..." Vile smirked. This was his own field now. He knew these games. "Well then, regarding the conditions..."
-------------- Several Months Later --------------
It looked like just another hut in the forest. And it looked just like any other mage living in it. A mage who had enough of the disturbing, distracting urban life, and of whom had decided to join the ranks of countless of other woodland mages.
It was, too. Just another vampire-hunting mage. He hated mages. Methilan Theophilus was just another emotional victim of this foul curse, which continued to rip families and friends right apart, both sides soaked in blood.
Only a few years ago, had Methilan searched everywhere for the power needed to vanquish them. He was growing bored, however. The Altmer let out another deep sigh, before leaning back in his chair, closing his eyes for a moment. His revenge was sated, he felt. His thirst for blood. That was the real problem with a vendetta. It would only fill you up for so long, before the thirst was quenched, and you would be left an empty shell with no meaning to your existence, or goal in life whatsoever. Books lied strewn across the room. The floor was barely visible under the pages, plants, and results of failed experiments. He had studied everything he could. But there was nothing left to learn. Nothing left of his research. He had no goal.
Well, perhaps one, last effort could be made. With a different aspiration in mind.
Despite the cloak of fur, Methilan shivered as the cold, harsh wind blew over the barren landscape. He saddled his horse, mounted in a rather small stable just outside his cottage, before galloping off towards Whiterun.
He arrived in town just before sunset. Wasting no time, he quickly mounted the horse and hurried off towards the market. He went straight for the vegetables stand, of where a beautiful dark-haired Imperial was stationed.
"Good evening, Carlotta." He smiled gently. Carlotta gave him a fierce glare. "I´m closing down now, anything you're going to buy, then I suggest you buy it now."
Methilan shrugged. "I have food for the week, thank you for your concern." Carlotta rolled her eyes. Taking to note of it, the elf continued. "But I was actually wondering, if it is not too much of a brother, if-"
"Actually, Methilan, it is a bother, I live a wonderful life on my own, not dependent on any man, so if you don't mind, I´m going to pack down for the day."
"I could help, if you require."
"I don´t, but thanks anyway."
Sighing heavily, Methilan made his way towards the temple. Regardless of his services to Meridia, he still felt loyal to the aedra he was raised to love. Before reaching the temple, however, he sat down under the great tree, up in the Wind District.
"I wonder..." He mumbled. Yes, he wondered. He wondered if he was destined to slaughter undead for the rest of his life. He wondered why Carlotta Valentia rejected him, despite all his efforts to appear polite, warm and welcoming, much unlike her other admirers. He wondered how in the world he had ended up in the service of a deadra in the first place, and he wondered if he´d be able to continue his research.
"Geez, that sounds like a lot of worries." Methilan looked down. Before him stood a great, black hound. "Pardon?" He said. "That sounds like a lot of worries you're mumbling about." He dog repeated. The elf was at loss of words. A talking dog. In Whiterun. A talking, black hound. Then again, it wasn´t the strangest thing he had seen. Or heard.
"Was I talking out aloud? Oh well, excuse me then. Bad habit." He said. "Tell me, how did you learn the art of speech?"
The dog set up something resembling a grin. "I´ve been able to talk long before you were born. And I overheard your mumbling too. It sounds like you got a lot of worries. And I think I know someone who might be able to help you." He said.
"You think you know someone who might be able to help me?" The elf repeated.
"Oh well, I do know someone who can help you. Follow me!" The dog barked, before running off down the stairs again. Methilan sat still for a moment, processing what the dog had just told him, before setting off after him.
------------
The dog introduced himself as Barbas along the way, and while Methilan had a struggle keeping up with him, he did the best he could. Whenever he couldn´t, Barbas waited patiently for him a few metres ahead.
They had kept the pace up for hours, before Barbas ran off into a cave. Methilan, struggling to regain his breath, walked slowly after. He recognised this cave. He had been here only a few months ago, clearing out the vampires.
Barbas led him safely down to the great statue he had seen last time he was here, but not bothered investigating.
"This is the shrine of my master." Barbas barked. Methilan ransacked his mind for information about daedric worship.
"Clavicus Vile?" He asked. "That´s him for sure." The dog replied.
Methilan carefully approached the statue. "How can he help me?" He said, uncertain. Barbas set up his dog grin once again. "If there´s anyone here who can help you with anything, it´s him. Just be careful what you wish for."
Methilan nodded. He extended his hand, and touched the statue. The instant he did, he jumped back as a voice suddenly resonated in the cave.
"Well then, look what the dog dragged in. Another mortal, desperately seeking my aid, in their earthly endeavours." He spoke in a strange accent, but both his words, voice, and the heroic pose his statue was placed in, clearly indicated authority.
"Well, yeah. He is in need of some help in life. Wanna tell him yourself?" Barbas turned to Methilan.
Methilan pondered over this. Here he had a chance to get everything he wanted. Vile was one of the most powerful daedra. At the moment, he had nothing. Nothing at all. Not even Meridia could fill the emptiness within him. That this dog would jump out of nowhere with the solution to all his "earthly endeavours" did seem a little too convenient, but had his entire life not been a big, great coincidence? Had he not achieved everything so far, at least got pushed on the right path, by coincidence? Then again, look at where it had led him. Unless this was only the next step of his life, where he could finally settle down?
He could continue his research, unlock the mysteries of Aetherium. He could get Carlotta to, at least to some extent like him, maybe more? He could also use this chance to get the knowledge he needed to dispose of all undead once and for all? How far did the power of this price go, exactly? ...And what would Meridia think of his choice? He suddenly became worried. Then again, what good would his soul to do Meridia, if he choose to sell it now? What loyalty did he truly owe her? Wasn´t he free to do what he wished with his soul? Unless Meridia wanted him to serve a greater purpose... If surrendering to her saved lives in the future. If it saved lives in the future working under her, how could he betray her now?
As if reading his thoughts, the daedra continued. "Look elf, I don't have forever here, well, you don't have forever. So unless your heart desires nothing, then I will take my-"
"Wait!" Methilan said. "I already serve Meridia, and I don't know wether I do right to betray her or not, or even if this is a betrayal."
Clavicus Vile laughed mockingly. The sound resonated within the walls. "Meridia, yes. I wonder if you'd willingly bow down to her, had you known her true nature. I think not... She´s an outcast. Like you. She is cast out of Aetherium, you are cast out of your home and college. And what misery causes, is the same for both mortals and immortals. Trust me, I would know..."
Methilan wasn't sure wether he spoke form experience, or having inflicted it upon both mortals and immortals for a great period of time. "Well then Clavicus Vile, stay and tell me; what good will my soul do to Meridia?"
Vile was silent for a moment, before speaking slowly, dead serious. "Enlarge her kingdom."
"Is that why she tempts us, with promises of love?" The elf asked, silently.
Clavicus Vile replied. "It is a comfort for the wretched to have companions in misery."
That was all Methilan needed. "Very well then. I´ll strike a bargain with you." He said.
----------------
"The mysteries of Aetherium. To see my sister again. To have Carlotta Valentia as wife." Clavicus replied. He looked at Barbas. "One for knowledge, one for living life, and one which´ll claim his life." He smirked. Barbas shook his head. "Geez, I told him to be careful what he wished for."
"Maybe, but if everyone were, what fun would we take from it? Besides, the elf was even so kind to leave Meridia´s Beacon behind him, in my shrine! I do believe the Glister Witch is a matter of his past now, truly. " The daedra replied. Barbas wasn't quite so sure about that. "I don't know."
"What is it you "don´t know"?"
"I don't know how wise of an idea this is..."
"Well I say he gets his wife first." Clavicus replied, leading the conversation back to the wishes.
As said, as done. When three days had gone, Methilan returned to Whiterun. He found Carlotta near the market stalls, in full work. "Good day, Carlotta." He greeted her. "Morning." She grunted back. Methilan took a deep breath. Then the words simply spilled out of him. "Dear Carlotta, I haven't acted my best lately, I know you deserve so much more. I am merely a mage, and an elf, nothing of which are welcome in the cold climates of Skyrim, but I must confess, that I love you, Carlotta. And I know that this confession could cause me more harm than any whip or hand, should it be rejected." He continued, suddenly feeling confident, as if his words were guided. "But I approach the brink serenely and accept the risk, when I ask you to be mine, in these short days we have before us, if not Death will part our ways. The time has come to prove my words by deeds, whatever you wish for, I will grant it, if only you say yes." He finished.
Carlotta stood there in absolute shock. Mouth open. What had come of this man? What had changed? He looked so much calmer. There was something in his eyes. Something in those amber eyes that had changed. She cast a quick look around the market. Everyone was staring at them. She looked at Methilan again. He still stood there, calmly. She took a deep breath. His words were true. He had spoken right form his heart. She suddenly didn´t see why she couldn´t give him a chance...?
"Well, I suppose I could close the stalls early, and well..." She cast an angry look towards their audience, of whom quickly returned to whatever early, mortal tasks they had been in the middle of. "And I do suppose I have some time to spare. I... We could probably spend that time together..." She blushed slightly. What had become of her? Why did she suddenly feel so strange?
The look on Methilan´s face was of such euphoric, honest happiness, that Carlotta at once felt guilty about not giving him a chance much, much earlier.
--------------
Only a month later, the bells of the temple rand merrily, as the people gathered to witness the union of two souls.
"Under the authority of Mara, the Divine of Love, I declare this couple to be wed. I present to the two of you these matching rings, blessed by Mara´s Divine grace. May they protect each of you in your new life together." The priest spoke.
Methilan looked as happy as never before. Carlotta looked no less merry.
"Under the authority of Clavicus Vile, the Deadra of Wishes and Trickery, I declare this bet to be won. I present to you, the final proof of mortals kinds´ weakness, should you only offer them the right deal." Vile smirked. "May the elf have my blessing in his earthly endeavours, for as long as they exist..."
Meridia said nothing. She left without another word.
The priest wondered why the woman in with had left so early, but mentioning it to Methilan, and he had simple asked who she was. He knew no woman in white.
Clavicus did, however, but as he looked towards the elf, he knew this deal was not yet over.
---------------
Three years passed. Three years of happiness. And a two-year old daughter. It was not before the same day, of which Methilan had three years earlier proposed, that Methilan was called out to the daedric shrine once more.
Carlotta came to remember this day with sorrow. The day she had lost the grip on her husband.
When Methilan returned, he had shut himself inside his room. He did only come out for one meal, at late evenings. Carlotta raised her daughter mostly on her own, while tending to the fields outside they cottage.
Sometimes, late at night, she would hear him ranting about inside his room, while she lied alone in the bed.
"Methilan, what are you doing inside of there!? Come out this instant and play with Mila!" She demanded one day. Methilan had opened the door slightly. He had big bags under his eyes, and his hair was a mess. He had given her a peculiar grin, before whispering, "I am not omniscient, but I know a lot..."
Carlotta did not let him near her daughter.
------------------
"He´s mad." Barbas said.
"You don't say..." Vile replied. "What? This is going according to plan. What did you think? That mortals can actually handle the secrets of Aetherium?"
"No... But I can't help but to pity him, just a little." The dog was becoming annoyed with Vile recently. Over the last decades, their arguments had been more frequent.
"He should have been careful what he wished for."
Barbas shot a dark look towards his master, of whom was smiling cruelly.
-----------------
It was only three years later, that Methilan sat by his desk, in suicidal thoughts. He was alone. The research published, had made him rich. It was enough money for Carlotta and Mila to move back to Whiterun, and live in the Wind District. But money could not satisfy him. He knew everything, yet he knew nothing.
Methilan scratched his head. Was he not back where he had started? Knowing everything, yet nothing. He wasn't sure wether he could do this anymore. One year ago, he had played vaguely with the though of entering Apocrypha, but he wasn't sure if he wanted. He would only end up aimlessly wandering around, searching for more knowledge, like so many other souls.
He laughed madly. What fools! These imbeciles wandering in death, searching among the rows of books in Apocrypha. Hermaeus Mora would not let them find the knowledge before the daedra deemed it worthy, and even so, knowledge would not bring them happiness!
Methilan stood up, before realising it had been days since he´d last eaten. Where was Carlotta? Had she not cooked? Oh, yes. That´s right. She was in Whiterun. With the daughter he had forgotten the name of.
Where were he? Ah, yes. The imbeciles of Apocrypha. If there was one thing he had learned; knowledge does not sate your appetite. It does not quench your thirst. It will not bring you happiness.
When had he last been happy? He could vaguely... Remember many years ago. On a beautiful summer´s evening. Carlotta had looked so beautiful in the sunset. And their daughter had played in the grass.
It seemed a distant memory. Carlotta was replaced with another female. He could remember her. It was his sister. It was his beautiful, beloved sister. Long before she had descended into vampirism. Long before he had burned her to ashes in wrath.
It was from the days when she could still bathe in sunlight. And it was from the days when they were all alone in the world, admiring the sunset in Alinor.
Methilan opened his eyes, looking up at the ceiling. He did not remember having fallen. His mind was slipping from him. Or was he slipping out of his mind? He giggled. No, he had gone insane years ago. And he only saw one way out now.
"Alas, I have studied philosophy. The law as well as alchemy, and to my sorrow, theology. I studied them well with ardent zeal, yet here I am, a wretched fool, no wiser than I was before." He mumbled, stretching his hand out towards the flask of poison. "Well then, Clavicus Vile, my sister awaits."
Vile smiled down at him. "Barbas warned you, and I suggest, to you all, you take his warnings to heart, because whatever stories you might have heard about me, they're probably true." He watched the elf die. "But you´ll try anyway, won't you? You'll still believe whatever you seek will make you happy." He sighed. "Mortals are predictable, that way. Learn through experience, even if it kills you. And if it doesn't, then I can think of many fates worse, just for you. But I, in all honesty, won't mind you continue wishing, it makes my existence ever so interesting."