Chapter Text
Jael Sevarine was many things: the last scion of a noble family, the (former) department chair of necromantic studies at the Mage's College, one of the youngest mages to have attained the rank of Grand Wizard, and the author of several books concerning the ethical practice of necromancy.
Now, much to her shock and chagrin, she was a prisoner.
Hannibal Traven still had it out for her even after she submitted her resignation-- not that she had a choice in the matter! He was completely against everything she stood for, and he made no attempt to hide his distaste.
The little spat they had upon their last encounter did her in. She had returned after what she felt was an appropriate amount of time to the college to collect her research papers and supplies, and he tried to stop her.
Her arrest after the following altercation was rather swift and certainly rage-inducing.
Apparently, Jael was also someone who resisted arrest.
Perhaps she could have bested the soldiers of the imperial watch, but Traven, the awful bastard, hit her with a silencing spell, and then a battlemage hit her with the hilt of his sword.
Bastards! Bastards, all of them!
She awoke wearing awful rags that were none too flattering on the dirty floor of a gloomy cell somewhere deep in the belly of the imperial prison.
Her head hurt, and dried blood adorned the back of her head. Her intricately braided bun had come half-undone, and her pale blonde hair spilled unevenly about her shoulders.
A rough leather collar had been placed around her neck, enchanted to negate her magic, which she immediately attempted to remove.
She had no desire to go into hiding and live in a nasty, dank little cave somewhere like her contemporaries, but it seemed she had little choice. Her two possible fates were execution or spending the rest of her life behind bars. She had to escape.
Some Dunmer in the cell across from her shouted insults but his voice was naught but a distant droning as she struggled to free herself from the collar. If she could just get it off, she could get herself out of this damned--
The creaking groan of her cell door immediately pulled her from her thoughts.
Her eyes widened, and her hands stilled, still gripping the blasted collar.
Perhaps she was in more trouble than she thought because she'd be damned if it wasn't the Emperor himself and three of his personal guards standing in her cell.
She immediately fell to her knees and bowed her head, hoping that a show of deference would soften whatever was awaiting her.
Time seemed to slow; the woman who appeared to be in charge of the guards asked what she was doing there and spat angrily that her cell was supposed to be off-limits.
Someone else blamed the incompetence of the watch, but from her prostrate position, she couldn't see who was talking, and she was too wrapped up in her thoughts to try.
Jael wracked her brain, trying to comprehend what exactly was happening. Had necromancy become a serious enough crime that it required the attention of Uriel Septim himself? She hadn't even killed anyone! She wasn't some awful stereotypical necromancer trying to achieve lichdom or raise an army of the undead!
Her research was entirely ethical! Well-documented! Benevolent, even! It wasn't her fault that others completely abused the black arts and demonized all who practiced it!
A rich and soothing voice cut swiftly through her panic, and she knew at once that it was the Emperor speaking.
"You... I've seen you. Let me see your face," he said softly as his hand lifted her chin and brought the two eye to eye.
She had seen him from afar a mere handful of times in passing at public events, but she had no idea he had seen her. By now, she was shaking.
There would be no escape now; she was about to meet a bad end, and she knew it. Such was the fate of the house of Sevarine, it seemed. Her parents had certainly earned their doom. She'd tried not to follow them, hadn't she? Perhaps it wasn't enough. Perhaps she would see them again much sooner than she had anticipated.
She hated to think of them. Her mother and father were driven by vanity, greed, and deceit. They had abused their authority as nobles and mistreated the commoners who served them. They lied and stole and cheated their way through life, and they deserved what happened in the end. There was no love lost there. She despised them; they knew it and ignored her unless they needed her. Somehow, their influence hadn't truly corrupted her. She was not evil or particularly greedy. She helped people when she could and devoted her studies in the black arts to using the power for good, not for her own gain. None of this was going to save her now.
Was she getting what she deserved? Was the taint of her bloodline so severe that nothing she could do would be sufficient to redeem her? Had she been born with a wicked soul from the start? That could be the problem. The game had been rigged against her from the beginning, and no matter how she played her hand, she still held the wrong cards.
Jael was soon to meet her doom on the very road she had taken to avoid it.
He nodded, confirming something, "You are the one from my dreams, then the stars were right. This is the day."
She swallowed. That was an ill portent if she'd ever heard one, "Am I to be put to the sword, Your Majesty?"
A warm chuckle escaped him, "No, you are not the one who is to die today. The Gods have placed you here so that we may meet. Whatever you have done is of no consequence. It is not what you will be remembered for."
She shook her head, "Sire, I don't understand, what's happening?"
His eyes closed briefly, the sky blue suddenly becoming as cold as winter rainfall, "Assassins attacked my sons, and I'm next. My Blades are leading me out of the city on a secret escape route. By chance, that route leads through your cell."
She looked wildly around; the Blades stood in stunned silence at this strange interaction between Emperor and prisoner.
Here was her chance to escape! Surely, if she helped the Emperor, that would gain her a pardon and she could return to her studies in peace.
Her voice was strained; her attempts to loosen the collar had only made its grip on her throat tighter, "I can be of use to you, Your Majesty; I am a grand wizard of the Mage's Guild. I can help see you safely on your path if you will have me."
He gave her the ghost of a smile and looked to the captain of his guards, "The prisoner comes with us. Remove her silencing collar, and let us make haste."
All of his small entourage began to protest, but he held up an authoritative hand, and they fell silent, deferring to his odd request.
One of the Blades, a Redguard, approached and cut the leather from her neck.
She muttered a thank you, rubbed her throat, and followed the entourage straight toward her unlikely fate.
It was a blur. The assassins in bound Daedric armor and red robes, the dank caverns she wandered when she was split off from the group, slaying goblins and sewer rats. She wished for her things, her amulet, black robes, and cloak, all enchanted by her own hands. She missed her dagger, the aptly named Frostbite that dealt severe damage to her enemies by subjecting them to winter's icy grip.
The only things that were stark and cemented in Jael's mind were her conversations with Uriel Septim as they ventured through the maze of forgotten tunnels. The Blades seemed annoyed by the Emperor's apparent interest in the disheveled prisoner. Still, they held their tongues when she immediately began unleashing hell upon the assassins that came for their sovereign.
Being more than proficient in the school of destruction, her magic was far more effective than the Akaviri katanas of the Blades. The assassins died bathed in frostbitten agony and sheets of ice from her graceful hands. She favored frost damage; it seemed appropriate for a mage whose area of focus was death. What was colder than the grave?
In the span of a few hours, the old Emperor had become rather dear to the young mage. He had talked of the gods, of his impending doom, and insisted repeatedly that a great destiny awaited her. She attributed it to the stress of his situation and assured him that she would keep him safe. This was not the end; she would get him wherever he was going and do so with the same single-minded determination that marked her career as a grand wizard.
He asked her about herself, the sign of her birth, and her beliefs in the Gods, and he made no harsh judgments based on her honest answers. He spoke with such calm dignity and had evident compassion that she couldn't help but care for him beyond the fact that he could provide her with a much-needed pardon. Perhaps he was in need of another court wizard; she might have to keep her studies a secret, but it would please her to be of use to him as she had been feeling woefully jobless after her resignation from the guild.
Yes, she had protected him and did so gladly until she couldn't.
He hadn't blamed her; he hadn't bemoaned his fate. He knew it was coming, and even she couldn't thwart the machinations of the divine. The memory was so fresh, it wasn't even an hour ago, but already it haunted her.
They had stood in the side chamber of the sanctum while his guards fought the ambush that had been lying in wait for them in the next room. She could have helped them, but she would not leave Uriel alone.
She was listening to the sounds of fighting, glancing between Uriel and the doorway, her hands ready to defend him, when he grabbed her and spun her around.
A mixture of sadness and urgency in his eyes made her stomach drop.
To her horror, she realized he had taken off his amulet and was pressing it hard into her hands. She took it reluctantly and entwined the golden chain in her fingers.
"Listen to me now, Jael. I can go no further. You must take my amulet to Jauffre. He alone knows where to find my last heir. You must close shut the jaws of Oblivion."
She shook her head frantically, "This isn't the end, Sire! Please--" the words died in her throat.
What happened next was so sudden that she seemed frozen in place, unable to do anything but watch those few seconds as the panel behind Uriel slid open, and one of the assassins put a wicked blade through the Emperor's chest.
Jael roared, still clutching the amulet in one hand; she put up the other and sent a shard of ice through the head of the heartless cur that had slain her friend. He fell back into the next room, revealed by the panel unceremoniously.
She dropped to her knees, but there was nothing she could do. The life was draining from him too quickly, and she was not well-versed enough in Restoration magic to save him.
Even as blood trickled from his mouth, he smiled at her, "Stand true, my friend. May your heart be your guide and the Gods grant you strength."
Tears pooled in her eyes, "With all my heart, farewell…"
And then he was gone.
Now, she stood at the exit grate from the sewers. Scant light poured in from the outside.
She took a steadying breath and made a mental list of what she had to do now.
Return to the inn, gather her things, saddle Balthazar, and make haste to Weynon Priory.
As she stepped forward through the ankle-deep water, the strange words of the Emperor rang in her ears as she opened the gate.
"But in your face, I behold the sun's companion…"
What a strange thing to say to a necromancer. Did he truly see the divine light of Akatosh in her pallor? She doubted it, and while she was confident she could handle the task at hand, she wasn't sure she was the right person for the job or that she had any business' closing shut the jaws of Oblivion,' whatever that meant.
Someone, however, had to do it, and she didn't see anyone else stepping up. Her research could wait in the face of something like this; other than that, she had little else to do. The estate was pretty self-sufficient in the care of her steward. She had no family to speak of, and most of her friends at the college had stopped speaking with her after her resignation, likely to protect their statuses and reputations, and she didn't blame them.
She shuddered. The pounding in her head that had begun when she awoke in that cell had reached a fever pitch, and she was grimly certain that it wasn't going away anytime soon.