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"The common person would believe that a god of war is a mighty thing. One that revels in death. Vaykiir is mighty, and yet they mourn. Their role is not merely to represent the fighting. It is also the legacy, the memory of those who fight, and the pain of their loss. That too is the nature of our god." - Unknown Lilmothiit, Argonian wars

Heracles came back to reality with a pounding headache. The word echoed in his head, over and over like a noise that was simply too loud for too small a space.

Fus. It seemed familiar. And yet he didn't know what it meant. The meaning almost seemed to linger just outside of his mind, like movement in the corner of his eyes. He needed to focus.

Talrikir shouted something at him. Heracles glanced over to see Talrikir standing between him and an undead.

Heracles started to move.

That was when the undead shouted, just like the dragon back in Helgen.

People turned into mist and buildings reduced to ruins. Reality itself shifting. The wheel that spun in both directions.

He shook it off. Memories could wait until later. A wave of force shot out toward them. Talrikir conjured a bubble of magic and the wave slammed into it. The shell held firm and the shout was diverted into the stone walls with an echoing crash and the sound of crumbling stone.

Heracles watched as Talrikir staggered in place before dropping bonelessly to the ground. The magic shell shattered like glass.

He was on his own. His foe was bigger than the others he had faced and with much better equipment. Heracles didn't have time to worry about that though. He needed to finish this fight and make sure his..friend, not quite. Make sure his ally was okay. Yeah, ally was a good word.

They charged across the stone floor with thundering footfalls and weapons raised high. His foe was good- too good even. If he didn't have a shield, he would have died in the first few seconds.

Heracles took several glancing blows. Shallow wounds that would slow and distract. Too many would bleed him dry. As it was, the patches of frost around the wounds ached as they leeched the heat from his body.

It attacked like a storm. Heracles found himself backpedaling under the assault one step at a time. He was losing ground, inch by inch.

A stone rolled out from under his foot, sending him crashing to the ground. Down on one knee, he blocked the next slash with his shield, only to be horrified when the blade carved a chunk out of it. He slammed his shield into his opponent's knees. It lost its balance and toppled over, snarling.

On his feet, he took what was left of his shield and brought it down hard onto his foe's back. The armor held but dented a bit and he swung again. And again.

They fell over and he raised the axe to finish them.

The undead breathed, "Fus!"

The wave of force was instant. Heracles was thrown back several feet, and his shield shattered, having taken most of the blast.

He scrambled to his feet and blocked the next swing on the haft of his axe.

His foe grinned as it pressed down on their locked weapons.

Heracles growled and reached out with his empty hand to claw at its throat.

The flesh was putrid and tough. Like layers of filth on old leather, dried by the sun. He ignored it as he dug in with his taloned claws and ripped.

Heracles grinned when the undead tried to shout, only to choke and gasp on the words.

Deciding it was time, Heracles reached deep down, to the core of his being, and invoked his birthright. Gold and green energy flowed across his limbs as his various injuries and aches were soothed. Split scales and torn flesh mended, the gentle caress of the Hist making him whole. The energy lingered, ready to heal any wound his foe would dare to inflict upon him.

Heracles grinned, flashing his teeth, before he reared back and slammed his helmeted head into his opponent. The small injury was quickly washed away, and he took advantage of his opponent's stunned state.

He pushed the other blade aside and took his axe to his opponent like a woodcutter to a log. His foe stood to fight back but Heracles paid it no mind.

Over and over he cut into it with his axe, one hit after another. His opponent wasn't any kinder. He did his best to block and deflect with the strongest parts of his armor, but an enchanted blade would find its mark one way or another. The cuts were small, shallow things that quickly healed over. Frost receded from the wounds under the gentle warmth of the Hist blessing.

His foe could only hold out so long under such an onslaught. One final swing managed to pierce their chest piece at the collarbone. They let out a rattling death gurgle before going still, their eyes faded to empty sockets. Heracles was left standing there, breathing hard, bloody axe in hand.

Heracles limply dropped his axe, slowly slumping over where he stood, a victorious grin on his face. His breaths were heavy and fast. The hist's warmth had faded some time ago, and his energy was well and truly spent. He surveyed the cavern, noting now the sarcophagus that undead must have come from, its lid laying several dozen feet away.

He looked back the other way and jumped to his feet when he saw his friend lying on the ground. Talrikir!

Heracles hurried back over to where Talrikir fell to check on him. His face was hot, but he was breathing. He decided to make camp here for the night, and keep an eye on him. It wouldn't do to try and move Talrikir like this.

Talrik'f was on his way to the prince's chambers, it was his watch for the afternoon. His armor was shining and proudly displayed the royal colors, specifically those of his charge, Kzaarae. He was proud to wear them, having had his worthiness to wear them beaten into his head, quite thoroughly, by Kahnlee over the past few weeks.

Talrik'f wasn't sure what had happened to his life. A couple of weeks ago he was a con'screept; the lowest rung on the lowest ladder, of the lowest organization in the Lilmothiit society. Now he was still fairly low, but he was low in the royal guard. To be in the royal guard at all commanded some measure of respect from most. Moreso, he had been selected for Kzaarae's guard. More than that even Kahnlee had taken an interest in training him.

He really couldn't fathom why. He wasn't anybody special, his odd magic aside. He supposed it was better to simply accept it and try to do his best to be worthy of it all. Now if only he knew how to do that.

Those musings were put to a stop when he reached his destination, the guard at attention snapping a sharp salute before hurrying off. Talrik'f had barely taken up his post when the door opened.

Kzaarae poked his head out, before looking around. He lit up when he saw Talrik'f. The door was quickly slammed, much to his confusion, before a slightly bedraggled Kzaarae walked back out.

Talrik'f was concerned. He held it back, however, as it wasn't his place to inquire into the prince's affairs. Bad enough that he had done it once.

"Hey, would you-would you come in?" Kzaarae asked. He was looking down. If Talrik'f didn't know better he would think he was about to cry.

"Yes sir."

"Uhm, if it's alright, I'd prefer it if it was my friend that was talking to me...not the guard."

Talrik'f started to look around, but caught himself and instead resumed a guard position. "Of course sir. My apologies."

They stood there for several seconds before the prince frowned a bit.

"Is something wrong? Sir."

"I was asking you. Unless we aren't really friends. Sometimes I assume, sorry. I shouldn't expect that of-" The prince slowly looked down as he talked, his ears folded down and back.

"You...think of me as a friend?"

Kzaarae's eyes snapped back up to meet his, one ear pointing off to the side."Y-yeah? You're nice enough. And we spend enough time together. Between you being in my guard, and training together. I just thought..."

"Oh. Uhm, thank you. Yeah, I can go in; and...I can be your friend, not the guard. I mean I have to be the guard but I can talk to you as a friend so uh... yeah. That."

Talrik'f wasn't sure what it meant that Kzaarae smiling lifted his whole day. He didn't know what it meant that a small giggle had him on cloud nine. Or maybe he didn't want to admit it. It's not like they could ever be anything more.

Talrik'f had been in the chambers before- it was part of his duties after all. It still left him a bit awestruck, however. The room was massive, and there were doors to several private facilities attached specifically for Kzaarae. The bed was big enough for four to comfortably lie on.

The odd part was the plainness of it all. Sure it was incredibly large but it was oddly simple. There was plenty of stuff that only the rich could have, and yet it was all of some practical use. There were no paintings or expensive tapestries; nothing was there to proclaim status and wealth. It was far more comfortable a space than he had expected.

Kzaarae led him over to a small round table set in front of a fireplace with a pair of chairs.

Once they were seated, Kzaarae started-or he tried to anyway. "I don't know where to start."

He said to be his friend, right? Talrik'f said, "I usually choose the beginning bit. Unless it's boring. Is it boring? It might be best to talk about something else then." He stuck his tongue out a bit to show he was joking.

Kzaarae almost seemed startled when he let out a small laugh. A second later he was laughing even louder. When he collected himself he said, "That's not what I meant, you jerk." He wiped a stray tear from his eyes. "Thank you, I needed that." Talrik'f smiled himself. "I mean..." He sighed. "It's just...there's so much."

"Well, I still don't seem to have much else to be doing." He pointed at his ears splayed out wide. "And these ears are still for listening. Pick something, and go from there." They both chuckled at the reminder of their first meeting.

"It's the court. They don't want me to be learning to fight. Something about it not being proper for a prince. They seem to have forgotten that Lilmoth was founded by generals! Our family was only put into power because when the wars came, we stood right there on the front lines with everyone else."

"Idiots, clearly."

"Exactly! Just some old jerks who want to tell everyone else how to act."

The talk went much the same for a while, with Kzaarae venting about the various expectations and duties placed upon him.

"You know, it sounds like you just need a break from all of this." This couldn't possibly be a good idea, but if it made him happy, it would be worth it.

"That would be the day. I'm the prince. I can't just...stop because I'm tired."

"What if you could?"

"Huh?", Kzaarae tilted his head, clearly confused.

"What's the most casual thing you own? Clothing I mean?" Kzaarae went into the closet, a huge walk-in room larger than his quarters on its own. He walked out with a garment of silk, with simple embroidering around the edges. "This one. I think?"

"yeah, nope. That won't work... Hmmm, you aren't that much smaller than me. Come on!" Talrik'f took the garments from him and tossed them onto the bed, much to Kzaarae's shock before pulling the prince towards the door.

Kzaarae shook his hand free before protesting. "Where are you trying to take me?"

"My quarters?" He paused for a moment when Kzaarae flushed, he tried to respond but it just came out as a pair of squeaks. Talrik'f wasn't sure what he was so worked up about...OH! Now he was blushing.

"No! Not like that. I have some spare clothes that would work for getting you out of the castle for a bit. As a regular person, I mean."

"I- okay." Kzaarae agreed, but Talrik'f couldn't help but notice that he didn't look anywhere in his general direction the entire time they walked. He wasn't sure why he was so worked up about it. Not like any proposition of the sort would be anything but a joke from him after all.

Sometime later Kzaarae was changing in Talrik'f's quarters. Talrik'f stood guard outside in his own casual outfit. There was a deathly quiet knock from inside the door, then. "Talrik'f, I don't think this is quite right."

"Are you decent?" Talrik'f entered the room after getting confirmation.

Kzaarae was wearing a simple set of linen clothes, similar to Talrik'f. Both of them looked like fairly well-off individuals, the kind that might be permitted to speak with nobles in the palace from time to time for business but not an uncommon sight among the common folk.

"I'm not sure about this. I look like a green and brown sack that sprouted legs!" Talrik'f somehow managed not to laugh at the petulant look on his friend's face. Truly it was a miraculous burst of self-control.

"That's because it's not the fancy stuff you're used to. This is how we normal people dress, your highness. Now, follow me. I know a good way to get out without getting seen."

Sometime later the two were walking the town. Kzaarae was a whirlwind of energy; practically bouncing from stall to stall. He was lost in studying the steady hustle and bustle of the marketplace Talrik'f had taken him to.

"Have you ever even been outside of that palace? You must have seen some of this already?"

Kzaarae slowed fidgeting with his thumbs. "Not really, no. I was little when they killed Mom. Dad never let me out after that. It's why I'm always under guard. If he knew I was outside the castle, even with you it would be...bad."

Talrik'f didn't like the way Kzaarae frowned, didn't like that he had caused it. "I'm sorry. That was rude of me."

"No, it's fine." The pair walked in silence for a time before Kzaarae spoke again. "Thank you."

"Hmm?" Talrik'f's ears perked.

"For taking me out here. To see this. I always wanted to. How am I supposed to be king one day if I've never even seen the people I'm ruling over? I'm going to be making choices that change their lives. I think about that a lot."

"Well, we could do this again, if you want.", Talrik'f said.

Talrik'f grinned and said, "We could make it a regular thing. There's this harvest festival coming up in a couple of months." Talrik'f's tail lazily wagged behind him at the thought. The festivals were always exciting. From the locals who went all out to prepare for them, all the way to the array of foreigners who came to sell their own wares and see the sights. No two festivals were the same but they were all worth seeing. "You've got to see that. There's tons of food, and the street performances are incredible."

"That sounds nice. Call it a date then."

Talrik'f nearly tripped on the simple road. His cheeks flared with unwelcome heat when Kzaarae smiled up at him. Even now, he was just a guard, and Kzaarae was the prince. They were just too far apart. But at least they were friends. He supposed that would have to be enough.

"Sure, it's a date."

Kzaarae was in a good mood. Some urgent business had come up for his consort to be, sparing him of his weekly engagement. Even Majiimar had some free time. Talrik'f's shift would be ending soon, and he was looking forward to introducing his friends.

He came back to the present when someone knocked on his door. A second later Majiimar burst in leaving the door wide open behind himself.

Kzaarae sighed, idly noting the door being closed by the attending guard. They were well used to his friend's nonsense, the same as he was. "One of these days you are going to have to learn to behave yourself. You may not be a prince but you are nobility. Unless you plan on getting removed from your birth clan," Kzaarae said, Idly taking note of the guard closing the door for his guest.

Majiimar waved off his concern before sitting sideways in the chair across from him. " Psshh. Relax, I'm too handsome to be a commoner. There would be mistresses and misters lined up around the palace to invite me back in. To the court and their beds, that is."

Kzaarae didn't bother to press the issue. It would have been infuriating if he wasn't so right about it. "I'd rather not talk about your sex life if it's all the same to you."

"Of course. Why talk about mine when yours is so much more interesting right now?" Kzaarae flushed, he opened his mouth to speak, but Majiimar beat him to it. "I mean I think I got the right soldier to replace me in your training sessions."

"You did. It would have been nice to have a warning. He had to fight Kahnlee to stay."

Majiimar froze, before speaking. "He what? Is he okay? That couldn't have gone well. Kahnlee is the best duellist in the kingdom."

"Actually, he won. Kahnlee was going easy on him, and they weren't using fortification magic so it wasn't that serious. Anyway, he won by making this spear, went from unarmed to cutting him like that." He snapped his fingers. "Totally caught Kahnlee off guard."

"Kaz, conjuring weapons is pretty normal." Majiimar idly made a dagger out of the shadows before letting it fade out of existence. "The daedric ones are even more common, though I do find the red on black a bit gauche. Something like that shouldn't be enough to get one over on the Winter Fox of Lilmoth."

The door opened to allow Talrik'f to enter, before gently closing the door behind himself. Kzaarae had been sure to let him know that he was welcome any time. He was glad to have the company.

"No, he made one out of steel, and it was practically instant. No delay in forming just..." He waved his arms a bit. "Spear. Right there. Anyway, he won the duel and impressed him so much that it got him into the royal guard." He paused for a moment. "Or maybe that was because Kahnlee didn't want to train a con'screept. Either way, it was super easy to have him put on my guard after that; which is good because it let me keep his schedule clear for our training days."

"That's...impressive. Good for him."

Kzaarae waved Talrik'f over. He seemed tense. "Yeah, anyway, this is Talrik'f." He gestured toward Majiimar. "And this is Majiimar."

Majiimar raised one hand to shake, but Talrik'f looked past him at Kzaarae. The words he spoke were like ice: hard and cold. "I do wish that you would have thought to ask me before doing any of that, sir. But then for someone such as yourself, I suppose that my thoughts are of little consequence. Have a good day, prince. I think that I'll have to cancel our plans. I'd rather spend my time alone than with a superior."

The formal titles felt like a slap to the face. It was like being doused in cold water without warning. Kzaarae sat there dumbfounded, and then his friend was gone.

He was about to stand when Majiimar stopped him. "Let him go. Now's not the time to talk to him."

"I don't get it. We helped him, right?" Kzaarae was confused...and a bit hurt. Why would he be so upset? He'd done everything he could to help him.

Majiimar waved one hand back and forth a bit. "Well, yes...but also no. He's certainly in a better position. I didn't expect you to make more arrangements than the training though. What I did probably just felt like some random person pushing pieces around, familiar. You, though, he trusted you. The thing about that is, you doing the same thing..."

His heart fell into his stomach. Oh. They'd had so many conversations lamenting having their lives run by people with power over them. And yet here he was, using his power to do the same for Talrik'f. What was wrong with him?

"Well, I can't just leave it like that. I'm going to go fix this." Kzaarae was out of the door before Majiimar could stop him.

Losing the guard was trivial with his speed. It was after, when he was alone, that he slowed. He was a useless prince. Hurting someone he cared about without even realizing it. He sighed.

Why was it so hard to just do something right? He wanted to punch something, to pull his hair out. Or maybe just to break down and cry. He couldn't do that though. Talrik'f was hurt, and it was his fault. He had to at least try to make things right.

He stood in front of Talrik'f's door for several minutes before he managed to knock. Gently at first to no response. Harder the second time.

"Go away, prince."

"I can't. Not without...not without apologizing. I didn't want to hurt you. I just...wanted to help. Sorry, I shouldn't have come here. I'll...leave you alone." Kzaarae had just turned away when Talrik'f stopped him with a hand on his shoulder.

"Hey, you can...come in." He was looking down. He had been crying, Kzaarae realized. That was his fault.

A moment later they sat across from each other at the edge of the small bed. Kzaarae had been in here a few times, to get more casual clothing for their ventures out to the town. That thought just made him feel worse. Talrik'f risked a lot more than he did going on those trips with him, and he did it to make him happy.

He couldn't seem to look his friend in the eyes, settling for twiddling his thumbs as he stared at his knees.

"I shouldn't have been so...that, with you earlier. Sorry."

Kzaarae blinked a couple of times before protesting. "No! I earned it. I was stupid and I messed things up. It's a habit of mine, to screw up."

"Not really, I never... I never really asked you not to. And it's been good. Being your guard...and your friend. I just...thought I had earned that. Did you know your guard is the one everybody wants to be in? The king's guard used to be more appealing, but he's kind of a prick. You're one of a very small group that genuinely cares about people around here."

"And yet I hurt you." The guilt was eating him alive.

"I think I hurt myself really."

"I should have known though. We talked so much about people moving us around like pieces and making choices for us instead of with us. I should have known to ask you."

Talrik'f looked off to the side, before turning back to Kzaarae. He took a deep breath and said, "I-how about this? I'd like it if you asked me before you do anything like that again, and...I'd rather not talk about my past. Before I made it into your guard, that is. Unless I bring it up. There aren't many good memories that way. What about you?"

"Me?" Kzaarae stared at him. He was supposed to be the one apologizing.

"Well, yeah? If you have any...rules? Things you don't want me doing."

"Oh." Kzaarae had to think about that one. No one had ever really asked him anything like that before. "Uhm. I guess if you had to make a decision about me, I'd prefer to at least be asked, but your my guard so I...understand if you can't."

Talrik'f put a hand on his shoulder, he looked up to meet his eyes, and his breath caught. "I'll do my best. That's all we can do, right?" Kzaarae wanted to tell him that he... But now wasn't the time. He looked back down at his knees.

"Yeah, Uhm. I don't really know what else. I've never ...done this before."

"Me neither. We could always add things to the list later, if we think of something. If you wanted, I'd- I'd still like to go to that festival, or just...into town. Friends?"

"Yeah, friends. I'd love to go with you." Maybe he wasn't so terrible after all. Or maybe he just got lucky. Lucky enough to have someone like this in his life.