𝐀𝐩𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐨𝐬𝐢𝐬

[ Miraak x Reader ]

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ Arcanum, Arcanorum ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

"You're going down a dark path, my child" Your mother had voiced multiple times wiping away the blood from your face, staring at the sigils you drew on every piece of parchment you found, or at the fire forming around your hands.

Even in your young years, not even she could deny how gifted you were in the arcane arts. A connection with the Aetherius, you had called it, It calls, these words visibly upset your mother so you stopped saying them. You couldn't help the visions of stars and robed monks or the charge around the air that was left wherever you walked. No matter how much you tried to hide these things, she'd notice every single time.

Growing up in a place like Riften made everything harder, magic was frowned upon in Skyrim. Swords and shields were more liked by the local Nords than the fire in your palms. "The woman and her Crazy Wizard Child" became a local story to spook the kids from taking the nightshade in your backyard.

Your mother. She didn't disapprove of you or your skill at all, she just knew the world around you didn't understand. At least, maybe someday you could aspire to become Court Mage and both of you would finally leave peacefully.

Who knows.

That's how you spent most of your adolescence excelling at the College of Winterhold, always with the future and your mother in mind. You quickly and certainly outperformed your classmates and teachers, to the point where the Archmage didn't know what to do with you. So they left you be in the Arcanaeum by yourself, and you were truly alone.

That place was, also, where those visions changed to those of heavy tomes, a dark abyss, yellow eyes. It was only when you spent night and day in the Arcanaeum that you found your answers.

Apocrypha.

How could you have known? You were taught about the Divines and nothing more. Aedra good, Daedra bad. That's how it was.

And every time you closed your eyes you found yourself there, hearing a voice that sounded like thousands.

It wasn't scary. It was soothing, somehow welcoming, He calls, like your magic had done before.

You withdrew from your classmates, even from your professors, you spent days reading, drawing things that concerned them, voices could be heard coming from your quarters at late hours of the night, and no one dared to interfere, for you'd be hostile to anyone that thought to cross your path.

"You're ready", he had said once, before he beckoned you to the upper level of the college, and you were never seen again.

Maybe you'd fallen down to the Sea of Ghosts, decided to take your own life in a fit of madness. Earthly rumors began when you were in a different dimension all together.

Past the mortal planes your magic shined and your thoughts darkened, you now possessed secrets that the people you once knew would never desire to understand. You felt powerful, pure magicka surging through your veins, all of the other beings here were lowly yet there was something.

No, someone.

There was another presence you felt when you walked around the dark corridors of the Apocrypha. You couldn't shake it off.

"Who are you?"

"His champion. Who are you?"

"Your replacement"

At first your interactions were short lived and rather hostile, the other was lowly and weak in both of your minds, unworthy of even talking further than petty arguments in this small rivalry. Slowly you both began to open up further to each other, and he felt like a refuge from your loneliness in this vast plane of Oblivion.

The first time you met face to face was strange. You didn't know who to expect when you heard his dramatic voice in the winds of Apocrypha, his masked form was a pleasant surprise and you both spent ages talking. You reminded each other that there was more to life than knowledge and great feats.

Once you came to him with blood on your face, bummed down and cowardly. A spell had gone wrong and had hurt both your body and your ego.

His gloved hands cupped your face and wiped away your blood.

"You're going down a dark path", he said, and you felt reminiscence squeeze your heart. "You have to get out of here"

Your mind came back to the fire at your home, your mother's embrace, the barking of your dogs and the snow between your toes. You met gazes with him.

"Come with me"

He just looked up.

"Sh. He's watching"

Months of planning went by quickly and the day came. The Last Dragonborn came to challenge Miraak with sword in hand and bravery in his eyes, you fought alongside him with your arcane power, he was strong but didn't compare to the both of you, together. However, the next turn of events were highly unexpected; a black tentacle pushed you back, leaving your vision blurry and knocking out the air from your lungs. This left you out of the battle momentarily, and you watched as your friend got impaled by one of the tentacles, his life slipping by the second.

You didn't know it it was the adrenaline, or a type of divine intervention in this sea of chaos. With a powerful shock spell, you sent the Dragonborn back a few feet. Dead or just unconscious, you'd deal with that later. Taking the black book he had used to get in, you ran towards Miraak's limp form, your heart pounding on your throat and your vision almost double. You embraced him, read the book. You knew Hermamora was watching, maybe he didn't care for both of you anymore, but you felt his unrelenting gaze drilling holes on your skull all the time.

You resented Hermaeus Mora, the one who helped you become this powerful in the first place.

...

It didn't help that the first breath you took when you were back on Mundus was ashen. Your lungs hurt and your eyes stung as if they were full of stones. You checked Miraak by your side, he was dying. With tears in your eyes you rolled over, patching up his wounds with a piece of your robes, using a restoration spell and... Well, you just hoped.

Minutes later he took a deep breath, his emerald eyes glowing behind his back, looking at you. Laughter bubbled up in your throat, you were filled with joy.

"We're out." you breathed, "I don't know how but we're out!"

He was weak, but you heard his whispered laughter for the first time. You collapsed in tiredness at his side, looking at the ashen sky of Solstheim.

"Now what?," he asked weakly.

"My... My mom lives on Riften. We could start there..." you voiced, more to yourself than him, "After you heal and stuff... I don't know, we take over the world or something?"

He laughed loudly, "Sounds like a plan"