A/N: I know I shouldn't start a new story. I should finish the other two stories first, but... it's not exactly new. I guess I'm weak ;) The text in Italic comes directly from the game and I take no credit for it, just as I don;t take credit for the amazing world and characters of The Elder Scrolls Series.

Reluctant God

The inky blue depth of the skies above, littered with stars, made it easy to forget that one was standing in the midst of an artificial world brought to life by the will of one being; the gears and cogs slowly moving above only adding to the dreamlike feel of the landscape. Now that the realm was out of immediate danger, the vestige listened in to the brief conversation between Sotha Sil and Divayth Fyr, unsurprised by the task appointed to the mage: hiding away the Skeleton Key to prevent Nocturnal from endangering the Throne Aligned yet again.

Efficient as always, the wizard made short work of their farewell.

"Goodbye, assistant. I was correct in choosing you."

As soon as he said that, Fyr disappeared, leaving the vestige alone with the third dunmer living god she'd met in the span of one year. He turned towards her and for a moment, she felt small and quite insignificant. She didn't notice it the first, brief time they spoke; the lord of the Clockwork City was perhaps the tallest person she'd ever seen - being a citizen of the Empire, she was used to seeing races other than human, but none she'd met towered above her like he did, not even the Altmer.

She observed him keenly, for the first time being able to truly do so out of the ever-present dimness of the Basilica; at first glance, except for his unusual height, Sotha Sil looked more similar to the Dunmer she'd met travelling through the Pact lands than to his fellow Tribunes. While Almalexia chose to appear as a Chimer and Vivec preferred his dual skin colour, Sotha Sil apparently didn't mind the ashen skin and red eyes bestowed upon the dunmer by Azura's curse. As most of the dark elves she'd seen, he had sharp features and slender build. Long, white hair flowed freely from under a crown-like, three-pronged helmet that covered most of the left side of his face and his nose. That's where the similarities ended; Sotha Sil wore a simple, white robe that did nothing to hide the metallic, robotic limb where his left arm used to be; his right hand had also been replaced. At first the vestige thought Sotha Sil was floating above ground like the other living gods liked to and that is why he seemed so impossibly tall, but she quickly noticed that not only was he standing firmly on the ground, he was barefoot.

She felt ashamed all of a sudden, realizing how long she'd been staring at him and hesitantly met his gaze, but his red, slanted eyes watched her with what seemed an endless patience. Sotha Sil looked and felt different from the other living gods of the dark elves; while the other two emitted constant light and exuded power and pride, he seemed almost muted in comparison, silent and calm. For a reason yet unexplained, the vestige found it reassuring, but quickly forgot that thought and winced. She had to crane her neck to look up at him, and it was starting to feel more and more uncomfortable. She had no time to react when she felt her body being lifted off the ground by an unseen force and found herself face to face with the Clockwork god.

"Ask." He said as if nothing happened, and as if he was privy to her thoughts. "I will answer truthfully."

"Who are you really?" she asked immediately, without thinking.

"Are you expecting something grand?" Sotha Sil replied, his head tilting to the side slightly. "But I promised you the truth. I am only what time and circumstance made me. Son of a lost house. Friend to a fallen king. Some will tell you that we are the product of our choices. I've never found that to be the case."

"But you're supposed to be a god, right?"

One of the mechanical hands whirred quietly when raised as though to emphasize a point. Sotha Sil's voice was another quality that distinguished him from a regular Dunmer for its reverberating, metallic echo. It almost sounded as if two mer were speaking at once – the flesh and blood one at the forefront, and the artificial one in the background.

"I am whatever the people need me to be. A guardian. An oppressor. For some, too distant. For others, too meddlesome. I am the canvas upon which they paint their dreams and resentments. A vessel for their hopes and doubts. A mirror, nothing more."

His words resonated with the vestige more than she expected them to. It was an uncommon emotion, to feel she could relate to another this way, to one whose life extended through centuries and would continue long after her bones turned to dust, but that's what she felt – a sudden sense of kinship. She also was a product of circumstance, someone who miraculously survived losing a soul, one whose house was now nothing but a painful memory, one pinned under the weight of expectations or resentment due to her role in the soulburst crisis.

"Then why do you call yourself a god?" she curiously asked, briefly wondering how her words would be considered a heresy amongst the Dunmer of Tamriel.

"I don't." replied Sotha Sil with a shake of his head. "But my companions, Vivec and Almalexia see their divinity as essential. Godhood brings them joy and purpose. They find meaning in the theatrical. Who am I to deprive them of that?"

The vestige stared at him for a long moment, surprised by his honesty, but then smiled.

"You are right about the theatrics."

"You've met both of them; not many can say that." Observed Sotha Sil. "I understand Vivec named you his champion."

"Yes." Sighed the vestige. "In front of the entire city. I never asked nor would I have chosen that, but then again, who am I to deprive him of the joy of being overly dramatic?"

For a fleeting moment, she could swear she could see a faint smile on the Clockwork God's lips. She asked more questions about the other two tribunes, still amazed by the immediate and honest answers, wondering how many people before her had had an opportunity to talk to him like that and how many would want to, her thoughts immediately on provost Varuni Arvel. The woman was extremely devoted to the one she called her god; despite never being able to talk to him throughout her century of faithful service, at times the way she spoke about Sotha Sil reminded the vestige of how one speaks of their lover. Her whole life revolved around the one she worshipped, a feat that the more down-to-earth vestige considered both impressive and unhealthy.

With a start she realized that yet again she drifted off into her own thoughts, leaving the Clockwork God to stand in front of her in silence for what must have been minutes. Not only that; she had been too straightforward in her greedy curiosity and did not show him enough respect. She felt heat rising in her cheeks, ashamed of her carelessness, but once again, Sotha Sil didn't seem like it bothered him.

"You're back." He observed curiously. "What boon would you have me grant you for what you did for me and those depending on me?"

"I thought that boon was already granted." Replied the vestige in surprise. "I asked you to heal Luciana, and you did."

"That was something you asked for thinking of Luciana…" he paused, "and me. I wish to give you something you want for yourself."

"I can't think of anything like that. It is not necessary."

Once again, a ghost of a smile graced the god's lips.

"Be sure to tell me when you finally decide what it is." He said, as he slowly lowered the vestige on the ground. "You are too altruistic for your own good."

"If you say so, my lord." Replied the vestige, bowing her head, glad she was finally able to show respect and again regretting not doing it earlier.

"You don't have to address me as such. Titles are meaningless."

"No, my lord. It is necessary." The vestige looked up, her eyes full of conviction. "For you these may be theatrics as you like to call them, but I was raised at the Imperial Court. You may not be a god, and certainly not one I worship, but you are the ruler of this realm, your station is higher than mine, and I will give respect when it is due."

"Very well, if being formal is what matters to you… Astia Varo."

The vestige bit her lip, trying not to smile. She did not expect a being with god-like powers to have a sense of humour; it was amusing that in order to subtly chastise her for insisting on using the title he cared nothing for, Sotha Sil fired back by using both her name and the name of her house. Still, her smile disappeared quickly.

"My lord…" she started hesitantly. "Is it possible for me to leave the Clockwork City?"

"It is, when I allow it. For now, I cannot."

Astia's head shot up and she could do nothing to hide her surprise and a hint of anger.

"Why would you not let me leave? I need to…"

"Peace, Astia Varo." A decisive move of a metallic hand interrupted her. The full name was used again as if it always had been, and the vestige suspected it would be for the foreseeable future.

"I know you have a war to win." The dual voice was lower now, almost gentle. "I know that although you have prevented a great calamity and subdued Molag Bal, your homeland still needs salvation. I know. Alas, the lady of shadows still lurks at our doorstep and you… I feel you still have a greater role to play. I told you before; you may yet be the one to save us all; and as such, I will not risk your life. When it is safe to leave, I will help you do just that."

"But Divayth Fyr…" she tried still, knowing it was futile.

"You survived removing soul from your body and thwarted not one, but three Daedric princes… The threads of your fate are bizarre, and special, making you succeed where ones stronger than you would fail. Still, you're no Divayth Fyr. Not yet. Do not take unnecessary risks."

Astia's head hung low as she quietly accepted.

"Yes, my lord."

A sudden touch made her head snap up. The Clockwork God was leaning down towards her, the automaton limb heavier on her shoulder than a comforting touch should feel.

"You will return home, Astia Varo." He said, "Though what you find there might make you wish you didn't. For now, rest. You deserve it. We will speak again, soon."

Then he disappeared, leaving Astia alone in the garden created of what she suspected was loneliness and regret. She walked slowly among the plaques and images they invoked, struck especially by two.

Sotha Nall. A soul that deserved transcendence. May her voice forever be heard in all the cogs and gears.

Astia understood quite quickly, or at least she thought she did. She remembered a book about factotums and how the author theorised their female voice was modelled after Sotha Sil's sister. So that's who the woman from the garden was; Sotha Nall, sister of Sotha Sil. She must've been important enough for him to be immortalised throughout his creation. Immediately, Astia felt pain, almost physical, as the thought of her brother surfaced from where she had been trying to bury it. Her brother. A proud centurion of the army, stationed at the Imperial City when the skies were torn asunder, brother she'd never heard from since. Brother that was most likely dead.

Wiping tears from her face, Astia turned to re-read the other plaque that caught her attention.

Nerevar the Captain. May we forever have his wisdom. And his forgiveness.

His forgiveness. She couldn't help but wonder what was it that Sotha Sil felt so sorry for. Were the Ashlanders right? Did he, Vivec and Almalexia indeed kill Nerevar to ascend to godhood? She shook her head. What happened centuries before she was even born was of no concern to her. Not now. She could only hope that the threat of Nocturnal breaching the city again would be quickly diminished so she could return to Tamriel and go where she desperately needed to – to Cyrodiil. Even though Molag Bal had fallen, her homeland still burned, torn between the three Alliances and the remaining daedra. It pained Astia to think that the once mighty and proud Empire would likely fall prey to other nations. She knew she couldn't save her country on her own, not even being the vestige, the Soulless One who regained her soul, faced a daedric prince and lived to tell the tale. She needed the backing of one of the Alliances and logic demanded it to be the Ebonheart Pact, where she gained friends and considerable influence for the past year.

It hadn't been an easy journey. All of the Pact races were distrustful of Imperials, so Astia's lineage had done her no favours. She had to earn their trust, and it cost a considerable amount of blood. She remembered the first one who trusted her and once again, couldn't stop tears. Was it this place that made her react this way? Had Sotha Sil's grief been imprinted on the garden as he was creating it? Whatever it was, Astia remembered the Dunmer general with long, red hair, always carefully braided, a flaming staff on his back, at first haughty and insufferably proud in her eyes, then a trusted friend, ally and… No. She wouldn't go there.

'You should have told him how you felt', whispered a tiny, traitorous voice in Astia's head. 'Now you never will. He will never know. And you will never know what could have been.'

"Silence." Whispered the vestige. An imperial noble and a grandmaster of one of the five dunmeri great houses? It would never have worked out, she thought, just as she had many times before, a thought that made her stay silent. It would never have been allowed, even if he had felt the same way. Never. It was better it forever stayed buried.

'You've never given it a chance.'

"No." admitted the vestige quietly. "I never have. But it doesn't matter any longer."

She walked the path out of the elegiac garden, her heart heavy with regret and sadness for a budding feeling she never let flourish and for a mer that broke down under a heavy loss and fell, farther than she could reach him. At least now Tanval Indoril, grandmaster of his house, was with the son he so missed in the afterlife, while Astia Varo, an Imperial too far from home, was still fighting, deprived of his friendship and support.

"He is gone, isn't he?"

The sudden question stopped Astia in her tracks and as she looked at provost Arvel, it took her a while to calm down and understand it wasn't Tanval that Varuni was talking about.

"Varuni." The vestige regained her composure quickly. "Yes, lord Sil is gone."

The provost's dark, beautiful face immediately got a resigned, disappointed look.

"I thought I could finally talk to him."

"You will, Varuni. I am sure of that."

"You don't understand…" the elf shook her head. "I have served him for over a century. I have practiced many times, in front of a mirror… what I'd say when I finally see him. Now I have only questions."

Astia couldn't shake an uneasy feeling Varuni's words caused. It was a thin line between devotion and obsession, and it seemed as though the provost was dangerously close to crossing it. It worried her as she had grown to like her. It had been Varuni's sponsorship that allowed Astia, Neramo and the Vanos siblings to become citizens of the Clockwork City and they had spent many evenings together, enjoying each other's company, as the provost felt at ease with those who were younger than the rest of the upper echelons of the Brass Fortress' hierarchy.

"Is there anything you'd like me to ask him for you?" offered Astia, hoping to ease some of her friend's disappointment.

Varuni's eyes widened.

"Will you see him again?"

The vestige nodded.

"I think so. Before he left, lord Sil said we'd speak again, soon."

"Will you be leaving us soon, then?" asked Varuni.

"Not yet." The vestige shook her head. "Lord Sil believes it is still too dangerous with Nocturnal at the City's doorstep."

"Do you plan on staying indefinitely?" there was a strange sharpness to Varuni's voice that Astia didn't like.

"Gods, no, Varuni!" she replied quickly. "I have a country to fight for, even if my home…" her voice trailed away at her own words.

She felt Varuni's hands squeezing her arms, and when she lifted her head to look at her friend, she saw genuine look of concern on the elf's face.

"You will return home, Astia, do not doubt it. There is nothing Lord Seht cannot do.

"Now, hurry back to the fortress. We all need rest… I'll stay here for a while, but I'll join you soon."