“And who do you think should go to look for him?!”, he countered. “The Thalmor already said that they won’t help us. Are you planning to go on your own? I can’t see how that plan could possibly fail!”
“I will not leave my son to die somewhere in that barbarian province!”
She had argued with Sanyon when he had expressed the wish to join the Thalmor; this exact same situation they found themselves in had been Mother’s biggest fear from the start. She had actually started shouting at her little baby, just the way she was shouting at him right now.
“Interesting, that you didn’t see fit to complain when I tried to head to the very same place!”
She really hadn’t argued with him when he tried to join. He wasn’t sure whether it was because she trusted his skills to defend himself (which was highly unlikely; Sanyon was by far the better mage of the two, it wouldn’t make sense) or…
“Oh come on, it was obvious they wouldn’t allow you to join anyway!”
…because she knew they would reject him. Everyone seemed to have known that simple fact beforehand, only he himself had chosen to be too blind to see the obvious.
Before he could come up with a suitable response to that, Mother spoke again.
“You need to go and save him.”
“Me?!”
It probably was the logical conclusion. Mother and his little sister shouldn’t travel on their own, them being women without any fighting experience. Besides, they were both needed here, as well as Mother’s husband. It only left him as the natural choice.
That didn’t mean he was going to be happy about it. “I don’t even think there is any cause for alarm! Besides, you think you have lost one son and the solution you come up with is sending your other son straight into that very same ‘barbarian country’?!”
“It is your responsibility. When my husband dies, Sanyon will become the next head of the family. It is your duty to protect him.”
Somehow that sentence had changed the very air around them. Up until this point he had thought he was arguing with her as an equal, as her other son, as her oldest child, as a member of the family. But then she had to go and remind him that the role of mother was exactly that: A role, an act, one she could assume and drop whenever it suited her. Obviously the play was over now, and he had to remember his own role that had been beaten into him from the moment of his little brother’s birth.
But he was in no mood for that now. He had wanted to go to Skyrim before, yes, but on his own terms. He had wanted to go as a Thalmor Justiciar, as one who could make the locals cower in awe whenever they heard his title, as a person worthy of respect. Not as his brother’s keeper, a mere servant scrambling through the dirt looking for the trail of his brother’s boots.
Not on his own, not without any official document in his pocket that ensured the locals would supply him with food and shelter and any assistance they could offer. If he agreed to Mother’s terms he would travel through a country that prided itself in having brought the elves close to extinction once, alone, as a vagabond, without any means to earn money. He might be able to work as a mercenary, but that was risky; there was a chance he wouldn’t even live long enough to find his brother.
And I can’t become the next head?”
Of course, the question was redundant. But he had always had trouble of backing down when he felt himself being driven into a corner.
When his brother left he had thought things could become different. Well, he was mistaken.
“You can’t become family head. No one would accept you. The other families would laugh at us. They probably wouldn’t even allow us to keep the mansion.”
M!DB - "Home" (2/?)
“I will not leave my son to die somewhere in that barbarian province!”
She had argued with Sanyon when he had expressed the wish to join the Thalmor; this exact same situation they found themselves in had been Mother’s biggest fear from the start. She had actually started shouting at her little baby, just the way she was shouting at him right now.
“Interesting, that you didn’t see fit to complain when I tried to head to the very same place!”
She really hadn’t argued with him when he tried to join. He wasn’t sure whether it was because she trusted his skills to defend himself (which was highly unlikely; Sanyon was by far the better mage of the two, it wouldn’t make sense) or…
“Oh come on, it was obvious they wouldn’t allow you to join anyway!”
…because she knew they would reject him. Everyone seemed to have known that simple fact beforehand, only he himself had chosen to be too blind to see the obvious.
Before he could come up with a suitable response to that, Mother spoke again.
“You need to go and save him.”
“Me?!”
It probably was the logical conclusion. Mother and his little sister shouldn’t travel on their own, them being women without any fighting experience. Besides, they were both needed here, as well as Mother’s husband. It only left him as the natural choice.
That didn’t mean he was going to be happy about it. “I don’t even think there is any cause for alarm! Besides, you think you have lost one son and the solution you come up with is sending your other son straight into that very same ‘barbarian country’?!”
“It is your responsibility. When my husband dies, Sanyon will become the next head of the family. It is your duty to protect him.”
Somehow that sentence had changed the very air around them. Up until this point he had thought he was arguing with her as an equal, as her other son, as her oldest child, as a member of the family. But then she had to go and remind him that the role of mother was exactly that: A role, an act, one she could assume and drop whenever it suited her. Obviously the play was over now, and he had to remember his own role that had been beaten into him from the moment of his little brother’s birth.
But he was in no mood for that now. He had wanted to go to Skyrim before, yes, but on his own terms. He had wanted to go as a Thalmor Justiciar, as one who could make the locals cower in awe whenever they heard his title, as a person worthy of respect. Not as his brother’s keeper, a mere servant scrambling through the dirt looking for the trail of his brother’s boots.
Not on his own, not without any official document in his pocket that ensured the locals would supply him with food and shelter and any assistance they could offer. If he agreed to Mother’s terms he would travel through a country that prided itself in having brought the elves close to extinction once, alone, as a vagabond, without any means to earn money. He might be able to work as a mercenary, but that was risky; there was a chance he wouldn’t even live long enough to find his brother.
And I can’t become the next head?”
Of course, the question was redundant. But he had always had trouble of backing down when he felt himself being driven into a corner.
When his brother left he had thought things could become different. Well, he was mistaken.
“You can’t become family head. No one would accept you. The other families would laugh at us. They probably wouldn’t even allow us to keep the mansion.”