⠀𝗶𝗻 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗰𝗼𝗺𝗶𝗻𝗴, 𝗶 𝗵𝗲𝗮𝗿 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗳𝗼𝗼𝘁𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗽𝘀 𝗼𝗳 𝗳𝗮𝘁𝗲.⠀𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚕𝚊𝚜𝚝 𝚍𝚎𝚏𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚘𝚏 𝚍𝚎𝚌𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚝𝚊𝚖𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚕. ⠀

biography

tw - gore , death , child death
UNWRITTEN FATES. tempting to any divine wishing to bestow prophecies upon mortals. the wheel turns forever onwards, his was written long before his birth. who, you ask? a babe forsaken from his noble birth when parents decided neither of their families were worthy of them. forsake them for love. two houses in bitter rivalry, unknowing to the love brewing among the abhorrence. hatred. ah, but their love is not the true focus of what was written. merely the beginning, the prologue. without them, there would be no hero. a match as if by design, two brought together despite opposing forces wishing to keep them apart. so, they ran off together, ran off to play their role in this story. and play they did, bringing their firstborn son into the world some years later – the hero of destiny. pax is the name they bestowed on him, naming him “peace” in the hope he might bring it to both houses one day: bridging the divide. it was folly and shortsighted, of course, as they lacked the planning and preparedness to raise a child proper. returning to their families with a child in tow would look like begging, so they held fast to their own stubbornness and made the attempt to make do with what life had given them. both were used to a much higher way and one of excess, but they managed for as long as they could before they were blessed with the promise of more offspring. for years they managed to squeeze out a living with no idea on how to do so. neither knew the extent of the toils of a more common way of life. more mouths to feed terrified them, made them worry about their children’s quality of life. fear pushed them back to their houses with pride buried and pleading hands outstretched. house arne from high rock did not respond to sent letters. house falco of cyrodiil did, however.warm reunions never came on the heels of bitter farewells. lord ontus falco was not a man to forgive or forget and his welcoming came with stipulations. nothing he gave was free, not even for his son, grandson and a daughter-in-law. in fact, he looked upon them with contempt or was it pity? no, pity is what compelled him to respond to their pleas. ontus looked down on them with contempt for asking him to go back on his own word. after all, the motto of house falco was “our word is binding.” an oath. what kind of house would they be if they could not stay true to their own word? if their word only applied to everyone else and not themselves? who would hold them accountable? tormented he was with the burden of decision, but the lord ended up making it in the end. they would never fully be one of house falco again, but he would help them. land was bought along the blue road, nestled near the nibenay basin but still within the heartlands. it was cleared and a meager homestead was built to accommodate the growing family and their future endeavor: raising horses. horses mainly for the use of house falco, but they were given the choice to lend or sell them to travelers as well.upon its completion, lysona had given birth to twins - ciel and atia. five summers had only welcomed pax and yet he filled the role of an older brother — protector — as if it was his birthright. it began as pacing to and from the cribs, restless nights making sure the infants were still breathing. a choked wail slipping past lips when concerned parents begged him to go back to sleep. attempts to reassure him were met with hysterical tears and the notion something would happen in their sleep. the attempts to return pax to his bed were given up and the boy would be found sleeping on the floor in front of the cribs or slumped in a chair he had pulled from the table. he was their keeper. this went on for nearly a year before he seemingly forgot what his fears had even been. such was the fickle nature of young children, their thoughts ebbed and flowed as their sense of self grew. the one thing he never quite grew out of was his desire to keep those around him safe. the boy’s body grew faster than he aged and he towered over his peers. when he accompanied either reglius or lysona into cheydinhal, he’d find no shortage of trouble. A reputation was quick to take hold and he became the stalwart protector of the misfits and outcasts who were too meek to fight for themselves. they’d hide behind him and pax would act in a way that came natural to him. many fights were fought between children, blissfully unaware their soft hands and balled fists would someday make the change to gauntlets and swords. Such a day was not on them yet, so they kept to their little games and groups. It was a game he tried not to play but it always had a way of finding him. Such was the way of many things; life was not made for peace. It was a life wrought with tragedy, guilt and despair. Idyllic at first but the threads unraveled themselves slowly as his role became clearer. The first tragedy came in the nineth year of his life, when his younger siblings were no older than four. Always a sickly child, ciel had difficulty breathing and would have fits in which he could not catch his breath – like cobwebs in his lungs. an apothecary created a potion to relieve the symptoms and clear his lungs when needed. It was simple, easy. A quick sip and he would be back to playing with his siblings! Who would’ve thought an attack would catch him in his sleep when their parents were gone. The sound of his wheezes woke atia and she in turn tried to wake pax as she did not know what to do nor where the potion was located. Always a heavy sleeper was he and sleep he continued to do as frantic hands tried to shake him awake. Eventually, she managed to roll pax out of bed and the jolt he received when he hit the floor was sufficient enough to break the spell of slumber. The events following were blurred as his mind tried to forget his first failure as a brother. Too late, too late. He was a little too late. Such a shame. how much potential ciel held, but such things were necessary.never had he seen such a look of sorrow and grief on one’s face. They never quite looked him in the eyes again after that. They said they didn’t blame him, it wasn’t his fault but it was, wasn’t it? They felt it despite the effort not to, pax saw it. He could see it in their eyes, felt it in their words. They loved him, but they blamed him and he blamed himself. Atia wasn’t the same either. While too young to completely understand death, she noticed his twin’s absence and would ask about him. Would ask pax. With teary eyes, he’d tell her he was out playing in the woods. He hadn’t the heart to admit something he felt was his fault. If he had woken up sooner….it was a scenario he worked in his head as he did his chores and fed the horses. As he went to bed, rose in the morning. Constantly thinking about the what ifs. As a few years passed, his mind grew a little quieter and preferred not to speak of his little brother. However, atia was not in such a mindset. She would ask her big brother if they could go find ciel, if they could help him find his way home. It would be met with a quick no and silence, but she persisted, and he relented. He knew they’d be stopped if their parents knew what they were doing, so he took a horse in secret. Took atia out into the woods on horseback to find what he knew to be a ghost. Maybe, he thought, he could tell her this time…he could say the words without him choking on them. Oh, but this wasn’t a happy story. It was wrought with tragedy and pain. Failure and loss. Dusk was approaching and he still couldn’t muster the words, their horse was tiring and pax knew their parents were looking for them. Atia was cycling between panic and drowsiness, wanting to continue the search but her eyes were heavy. Then, suddenly, their horse reared up with a startled cry. Hide grazed by arrow. Both children were thrown from the beast’s back and darkness consumed him as his head contacted something solid. How long he laid there, he wasn’t certain, but consciousness returned to him as armored hands sat him up and kept a cloth pressed to the back of his head. Dragon set in the belt of armor. Soldiers meant for war out looking for lost children. A duty they did not mind performing for citizens of the empire. Alas, a duty not always gratifying or fulfilling…only one child did they find alive. The fall from horse or goblins, they did not know. All they could hope for was a swift end and pray the divines spared her the pain. What good were they gods if they let a child die? Left parents short yet another offspring? Spared one and not three. So cruel and twisted to force them to lay their children to rest; it should be them in old age. They were no more than babes! They hadn’t seen their tenth winter! They—no, grief held them both. Mournful cries in the dying light when they saw limp form tucked close in the arms of legion armor. Their firstborn bloodied and brow wrapped with cloth, expression empty and distant. Body was quick to recover but minds do not take as well to the healing. Emotions and feelings of guilt clung to the wounds, wove themselves together like a thicket of thorns. Hiding and isolating the self from others. It is your fault, they know it is. It’s your fault your sister is dead. Why didn’t you protect her? look at how they avert their gaze, they blame you too. First ciel and now atia? My, my…some protector! Some keeper.Such thoughts never left his mind or passed his lips, but the apologies did. Worth little, he thought, but he had to say something against the screaming. The crying, asking him why they went out into the woods when they were dangerous. How he knew better, they taught him better. They did; it made him feel worse. Eyes never wandered far from the ground, now. Worried contact would only bring more tears. Eventually, they grew quiet knowing it was a mistake; the mistake of a child. They expected so much of him and pax never truly disappointed them. Why was it to hard to look at him now? Their son? Why could lysona no longer bring herself to sit him down and braid his hair while telling him stories of high rock? Why could reglius no longer read to him, teach him? The words were never spoken, blame never placed but their minds had decided. Decided where to shoulder the guilt.Internalized, yet he noticed. He knew. Could he blame them? It was his fault, he should’ve done more or done things differently. The task of watching over his siblings and keeping them safe was his and he failed. Justification in this reasoning, explanation for their hushed voices and averted gaze. The distance separating them. Silence beyond answering questions regarding the wellbeing of the horses and which traveler took what. Then, the questions slowly changed. If pax had seen strange travelers, what they were wearing. If any had stopped to look at the stables, if he saw anyone snooping. Little thought was put into these inquiries as the boy was glad for the increase attention given to him. Unfortunately, he should’ve realized something was amiss sooner. Late night knocks on the doors and sounds of footsteps circling the hovel. Hushed arguments. It was not uncommon to get wary travelers looking for fresh horses, but he was a fool not to heed the differences in some of those visits. Make the connection between them and the questions his parents began to ask. Horses gone by the morn and less than pleased expressions painting the faces of his parents. Their garden producing less than previous years, necklaces missing from his mother’s neck. meals containing lesser portions. It seemed these peculiar happenings reached its climax when the boy was startled awake by the slamming of the door and curses hissed under frustrated breath. Arguments between his mother and father but words were not clear.Heated at first, but as he listened, they slowly morphed into contemplative and eventually defeated. Oh, how dire the situation they found themselves in and how unaware pax was to it all. How unobservant he had been, how involved in his own mind. It was better this way and worked in his parents’ favor; worked in their plan to save their remaining child. Stubbornness was woven into their son’s very being. He would not leave willingly if he knew what threatened them. A trait inherited from both of them -- a source of pride and headache. So, as the boy fell back into slumber, lysona and reglius readied a cart and what supplies would be needed for a trip to the imperial city before falling into their own uneasy sleep.A gentle knocking, a gentle shake of his shoulder. A soft smile with sadness clouding eyes as they spoke to him once he was roused. Telling him they had a very important task for him to do as they felt he was now old enough. old enough at the age of thirteen to take a harvest filled cart to the imperial markets on his own. Before setting him out on this journey, a kiss was placed on his forehead by both parents. A mother’s touch, moving hair out from his face before tucking it behind ears. Be safe, they both told him. We love you ( sorry we never told you enough ). Then, he set off, unaware it would be the last time he’d hear those words. Foolish little boy, can’t you see the danger ahead? Can’t you see they are sending you away for a reason? Thoughts crossed him, but he did not heed the feelings gnawing at the back of his mind. He trusted their words for their surface value. So determined to make them proud, prove he could do something right. A feeling sat in his gut, knowing something was wrong. It did not matter. It didn’t matter. It was pushed down, down into a pit. Such feelings would not get in the way of him accomplishing the goal they gave him. The road to the imperial city was long and at times dangerous, but it proved rather uneventful for pax. How fortunate. selling the produce was done without much fanfare as well. made easier with the rehearsing he did on the way and by remembering the way his father would deal with the merchants. Unbeknownst to him, a ploy had been set in motion long before his travel to the city. Unbeknownst to all beyond those directly involved. Fearing ontus would restore reglius’s birthright fully, thereby making him the heir to the lordship if ontus were to pass, surus – the second son — conspired with brigands who claimed cheydinhal county as their range. Stipend with coin, directed with material wealth and supplies. Sow ruin and woe, pillage and plunder; focusing on a certain little farmstead. As his paranoia grew at ontus’s lessening conviction for his own decision, surus prevented their binding word from being undone permanently. Kill them, burn the home. Let none live, let none know. Little did surus know, reglius was of the skeptical sort; observant. The escalation was enough for him to realize the path the bandits would take and what their future on nirn was dwindling. They had to ensure it lasted long for their remaining son and fight to save the farm so he would have something to make that time more bearable.

But…lysona and reglius were outmatched – they knew – and their defiant stand did not resist the drums of greed pounding in the heads of those that plundered septims from any and all who were unfortunate enough to travel the blue road. Valiant, but futile. Their end was swift. Too swift. Legion soldiers on patrol made it in time to see fire being set to the barn and stables with the home already ablaze. They had no such trouble with men used to attacking the untrained or unarmed. Scum were dealt without impunity and the ground was searched for the possibility of survivors but they only found what the bodies of who they surmised were the owners. As they were moving the bodies to the gate for preparations by a priest, a boy appeared with an old nag pulling an empty cart. The expression on his face and tears streaking cheeks told them all they needed to know – he was their son, they were his parents. This was his home. Words tried to sooth the unconsolable but a wall went up in his mind and he could not be reached. do you have any other family, they asked. No response was received. Unable to leave him in a burnt home, they took him along with them to the destination of their patrol – the imperial city. Once there, the soldiers boarded him for a few days in an inn but washed their hands of him. A boy his age would manage, they justified. Find his own way and carve it, right? Well, he would, in a way. Not without help. An urchin on the streets of a major city? Solidarity and aid was found in those of similar situations. they offered a certain comfort and guidance no one else wished to give. Beggars and vagrants helping him when they had the least to give. They taught him how to sneak, how to listen and watch, who to target, and misdirection. It wasn’t who he wanted to be or what he wanted to do, but he felt he no longer had a choice as now he was simply trying to survive; nothing more, nothing less. So young and already so tired and disillusioned with life. How he wanted nothing more than to feel the embrace of his parents again. Feel the dirt as he worked the soil and planted seeds. This was not who he was, but what was he? What was he now? a rat. a sneer and jab. Words eventually worn as a second skin, hissed through teeth belonging to a guard for the watch. Audens avidius. disdain followed the man like a smog; thick and oppressive. Polite and inviting at first, but was a snake coiled in the grass. Few did he show the true self to. Those not worth the dirt beneath his boot were not worth the effort of his façade. Everyone else? A model watch guard, there to serve and protect the citizens of the empire. he wanted more. pax did not like him, saw him for what he was but knew not to trifle or draw attention. watch, report, survive. something he had to remind himself of daily, knowing anything done to garner attention would make his own survival difficult. As fate liked to be, keeping his head down is precisely drew audens’s attention. After all, the most elusive were the unassuming vermin. This focus became a game of sorts, but he was always a step behind. Years upon years did he harass and chase pax; biting at his heels. Obsession wearing armor. It followed him into adulthood and persisted still until one day he made a mistake. Hunger gnawed at his stomach and the loaf was so tantalizing he failed to notice bait when he saw it. Of course, the guardsman did not and he descended on pax determined to add yet another body to fill his quota.Something within him snapped, a feeling of defiance he had not felt in a long time. It bubbled and boiled in his chest, coiling around lungs and setting jaw. All this for some bread? Chunk was torn and shoved in own mouth as a show of this resistance; hatred. Retaliation was quick to follow. Armored hand clamped down on a shoulder, the other following through in an arching, upwards motion before connecting with the center above his gut. Breath caught in throat and he crumpled from the hit, but his recovery was swift and he was running as soon as his feet found the purchase. Pushing away from the guard, pushing away from the meekness eating at his heart. no more, he thought. So, he ran. To where? He wasn’t sure but all he wanted to do was to get away and escape. Escape himself, escape audens. Escape the city. This isn’t what they had wanted for him and this isn’t what he wanted for himself. How did he lose himself this much? What was his purpose? Ah, but answers to questions like that would not be found while he was trying to evade capture. Or would they? It seems he was soon to find out. As he rounded the corner, another gauntlet reached out to wrap fingers around his wrist. The sound of boots hitting against stone street, alerting him of audens’s approach. Panic set in now and he fought against the force trying to tether him. Hold him back. Hand clenched as he tried to wrestle it free, a heat building in the fist. A blast of arcane fire soon erupted from his palm when he opened his hand. Fire rushing outwards only to be met with a bellowing scream. Their grasp went limp around his wrist and the sound of metal falling against stone pierced his ears almost louder than the scream did. Pax stood there, mouth agape and eyes wide as shock took hold in his mind. Eyes fell on the scene before him somehow not believing what had transpired. Yet, there the guard lay…face marred ( melted ?! ) and blood slowly pooling out against white brick. Breath hitched in his throat once more and body refused to move despite his pursuer now becoming his captor. Audens avidius, the guard who bravely made the arrest of a dangerous criminal; murderer. How fortuitous it was for him, how unfortunate for pax. More guilt added to the weight already crushing his chest. A guilt now spent molding and shaping as he sat within a cell in the imperial prisons. Oh, but idleness within the confines of his cell was not what was in store for him. A growing vested interest in the grey fox and a beggar in their possession? Audens was able to use this as a way to make special visits to see the loser of their game. Torture him, if he could get away with it. The gloating, taunting, tormenting – it chipped away at pax; made him malleable, manipulatable. It tore him down and dissolved his will, he would’ve became anything for whoever found him. It was, however, predestined for the emperor to one day find himself guided through a cell and bestow his presence upon the one from his dreams….