Nerevar Indoril       [source: The Elder Scrolls]

Nerevar had the humble origins of a caravan guard, though through killing his superior and eventually rising through the ranks of a soldier, he was an established general when he asked to marry Ayem, Vehk already at his side. House Indoril became powerful, he became King and Hortator. He and Ayem were never able to have children, but adopted in plenty of new blood into their house--including Vehk and Seht, two who were without a house of their own.

The marriage was largely political--he was friends with Ayem, she needed a spouse--and as such, there was leeway to do what they wanted without offending the other half so long as there wasn’t a scandal about it. Ayem slept with Seht, Nerevar slept with the Lord High Councillor of House Dagoth, Voryn, and Vehk. On occasion, both and Ayem at once. The chimer weren’t particularly prudish about such things.

The dragon break at Red Mountain makes all things real and unreal at once, but the most real was the Red Moment of being murdered. It shaped the future and the emotions of the survivors more than anything else, because, in at least one situation, they now knew that they had it in them to kill even their closest friend, their Hortator.

As Nerevarine, I was born on a certain day to uncertain parents. Bosmeri. I was adopted by a dunmer couple in what seems to be southern Skyrim, or perhaps northern Cyrodiil? They were in turn living with their parents, who were Ashlanders that had left Vvardenfell. It is highly possible I was named Nerevar by them again--they knew my birthday when they adopted me, and they figured I would never find myself in Morrowind. They and their parents had no intent of ever returning to be persecuted further by the Temple’s ordinators.

I ran across the 36 Lessons [in the ruins of a looted caravan--if the thieves could read, they were far too stupid to realize what all of them compiled would be worth] and became entranced by their teachings, but my parents were two generations removed from Ashlanders, and I knew better than to be caught reading Temple doctrine. I hid it in the hay of our stable.

Eventually, I began travelling to learn more magic. I was in the Imperial City when I was arrested for use of an illegal spell [I presume] during a fight I didn’t provoke. Typically, the Imperial City’s prison was not meant to hold someone for minor offenses such as that, but the punishment was only a week or so, and as such, they decided not to transfer me. The cell across from me contained one dunmer by the name of Jiub, and we talked ceaselessly through the night, much to the irritation of those held around us.

The day came that he was to be deported to Morrowind. And, to my surprise, it was decided that I, too, would be deported. We both protested this for a number of reasons, including [1] I had never been in Morrowind, [2] I was supposed to be released in a few days, [3] my offense was a misdemeanor and I was only imprisoned because I couldn’t pay the fine, [4] I had been adopted into a minority group the Empire knew to be mistreated, [5] I had no valuable skills with which to earn my way back to my home...

But the Emperor had spoken.

Jiub and I spent another week on a cargo ship, with two or three other convicts being picked up from other ports, and a handful of lower class travellers that could only afford to travel on such a vessel. We had become quite close, and he tolerated my increasingly severe night terrors well, to the point where when we arrived in Seyda Neen, we opted to stay together for another few weeks in a shared room in a boarding house.

I decided to go and find my family, and wished Jiub luck in finding his redemption.

I didn’t fit in well with the Ashlanders. I helped out, taking care of children and helping hunt, but even despite their efforts to welcome and include me, their letters home that I was safe with them and they loved meeting me, it was apparent I did not belong. I took up mercenary work, travelled a bit, and eventually decided that I would cooperate with the Empire.

I believe I was adopted back into my own house, Indoril, eventually, though I’m told I have much more in common with Telvanni than I’d like to admit, and, given the gameplay, it’s possible that’s where I ended up first.

When it was no longer possible to deny that I was indeed Nerevarine, Vivec invited me to his palace. I was cautious, expecting yet another attempt on my life from ALMSIVI, but instead, he welcomed me with open arms, declaring to his people that the prophecy has begun, and I, as their Hortator, would serve the Three and destroy Dagoth Ur.

This was news to the other two, though Sotha Sil knew he was right to do so.

I lived and trained with Vivec for a bit longer, before the assault on Red Mountain. Both he and Almalexia were present--Sotha Sil merely sent a few automatons. This caused slight unrest in the people, but Vivec found a way to smooth it over, assuring that I had his blessing as well. And so, with the rest of the forgotten house held at bay, I ventured into the deepest parts of the Red Tower.

Ur looked mostly made of tar, dripping and pulling at the edges. Teeth under the mask when it came off. Hair a mess. Long bloodied claws. He flickered, one moment that, one moment a particularly tall dunmer, one moment himself, Voryn. He tried to hold a recognizable form to negotiate with me, to make me feel at least a little less afraid as he killed me.

He didn’t. I left Red Mountain bloodied and alive, and Vivec held my fist in the air before the people I had come to know and love.

We returned to the palace.

It was a few months later when Vivec said that Sotha Sil wished to meet me. I agreed, and we travelled to Clockwork City.

It was beautiful. Fascinating. Pulsing with magic.

Vivec told me that Sil wished to apologize. I thought he meant for his lack of support in the battle, but no, it was an apology for everything.

In an orbservatory, we met Sil. He was very unlike my memories of the jittery, experimenting mage that shook like a leaf when excited or nervous, that got up to so much mischief with Voryn. Taller. No move without meaning. And so, so sad.

I forgave him. And we left.

Palace life bored me, and I made use of his permission to talk to him through Vivec’s scrying crystal. I returned to the City. And I kept returning until I simply stopped leaving.

After following Sil around for quite some time, seven months on Nirn, a year for us, I convinced him to leave the City for the mortal world. He took me to a place that seemed to be outside of Tamriel, with unrecognizable stars, fireflies everywhere, the moons reflecting on a lake. We chased the fireflies around for hours, walked along the lake, talking, talking. We laid in the grass and I told him I loved him. He told me I wouldn’t for long; I assured him to the contrary. He told me not to refer to him as Sil anymore, and I kissed him.

Vivec’s only response was that it took us long enough. Almalexia offered her approval, short and reserved, as I had come to know her again. Vivec and Seht both assured me that my memories weren’t mistaken in that she wasn’t like this before.

Memory was Seht’s constant attendant, an android child to keep him company and learn to tend to the city in his absence, the way I was now learning. She was also programmed to occasionally overwrite her own lesser memories, to have a randomized schedule, to be imperfect. Just like a real child, always learning, always adapting. There was more love in that project than in anything short of the city itself.

It took almost until the dawn of the Oblivion Crisis for Almalexia to ask me to come on Seht’s behalf to Mournhold to investigate what she believed to be Daedric influence. I agreed, and when I arrived, it was to an empty temple and a city in chaos, a destroyed automaton Seht had given her eras ago in the middle of it all.

I called Vivec, asking if she was with him, wondering why she would call for me and then leave.

We realized at the same time. Vivec could only tell me to go home, now, unable to open his own way to the city the way I had been granted permission to do.

The first thing I remembered about being Nerevarine was holding Seht’s body, Almalexia jeering at me.

I brought their ashes in urns to Vivec, to tell him that I feared for his safety with Azura trying to force me to kill him as well. I left for Necrom, and on the ship, Vivec appeared beside me, both of us disguised, simply wishing to mourn in peace. He carried hers.

Upon arrival, he revealed himself, demanding the grandest temple ever seen be constructed, with two ash pits left open for the inevitable ending. He smoothed fears of his people, he handled overseeing the construction, and we faced the Oblivion Crisis together, well aware Dagon was only bold enough to invade now that Seht wasn’t there to destroy him.

We returned to the City together, safe from Daedra there if nowhere else. Red Year came and went, all of our power and all of our technology unable to stop it. And we went about filling in the Tinkerer’s role, together, with his voice now in the factotums, same as his sister’s. He uploaded it to keep me company.

Vivec’s magic wasn’t enough to keep him alive. I assured him I’d see that our ashes were taken to Necrom together as he died, and so it was. The time for gods had passed.

Canonmates--Divayth; Jiub; Seht; Vivec; Voryn; Zelda [Almalexia]