Rewarded As a Traitor Deserves

by Crystal-Like-Law (ongoingaccident)

Summary:

Atasha Darrell gets mistaken for a Daedra, and who can blame her if she decides to have some fun with it? She’s probably running to her death, anyway.

Notes:

well, in Typical Cat Fashion, i’ve gotten obsessed with an elder scrolls game that no one else plays (shoutout to the other 15 Battlespire fics out there, y’all are the real ones).

it is very important to me that you know that this is basically just me fleshing out an interaction from in-game, the dialogue is almost 100% directly lifted from the game (HONEST). i’ve added one line to Atasha’s dialogue and changed in-game caps to italics, and other than that i have left this interaction in its original glory (including what i consider to be some questionable comma choices)

edit 2025.3.12: fixed a really embarrassing error where i spelled angada’s name wrong every time i typed it + recontexualized some dialogue to make it make more sense

Atasha strode across the observatory floor like she was supposed to be there, and not like she was sneaking through Oblivion for a clandestine meeting with one of Dagon’s top generals. It worked a little too well, because some Altmer… guest? Or unsuspecting sacrificial victim, she wasn’t sure yet, stopped her almost immediately.

“Why have I been kept waiting?” he asked, demanding and abrasive in the way she’d come to expect from the Prince of Destruction’s servants. “Lord Dagon will wish to see me immediately. The portents are most propitious, but a crisis is coming, and he will wish to take the tides at their flood.”

Unfortunately, she’d slept through most of her Battlemage classes and had no idea what he was going on about. At least she was good at playing along. “It is all a mystery to me, sir. In fact, I have no idea who you are or why you’re here. I pass this way looking for a pair of Boots of Grotesque Liveliness-“ she had no idea what those were, either, “-that seem to have gone missing. You haven’t seen them anywhere, have you?”

He did not appreciate her response in the least. “This is unacceptable! This is but the calm before the storm. The tides of magic are at the remotest ebb. His Lordship must be prepared to ride them at their flood, or all will be lost!”

Atasha had to stifle her instinctive yawn. If Josian had been here, he would’ve understood immediately and could have probably gleaned a lot of valuable insight from this conversation. But she spent those classes dreaming about using fireballs to invent a really cool variation of horseback riding.

“Sorry. Don’t know what you’re talking about. But if you give me your name, your purpose, and a brief message, I’ll see that it gets to Lord Dagon, or one of his chief lieutenants, right away.” At least she’d always been good at pissing off her professors. It was a skill that was frequently coming in handy ever since she’d entered the Battlespire.

“See here,” he started angrily, “my name is Sirran Angada. I’m a mortal sorcerer.”

The name pricked a spark of memory in her, but Atasha just rolled her eyes overdramatically and cut in before he could continue. “Well, anyone can see that.”

She couldn’t wait until that bulging vein in his head burst and that nagging feeling that his name should’ve triggered… something was rendered moot. “Listen, knave, and cease your prattle.” Unfortunately for him, no one had ever managed to make her shut up before. “My Lord, Jagar Tharn, the mortal Emperor of Tamriel, and your Lord Dagon are ordering affairs high above your counsel. Tell someone in authority that I must speak to his Lordship.”

Oh, that reminded her. This was the wretched little prat who’d turned the Battlespire over to Dagon in the first place. But before she turned him into so much fine powder, Atasha figured she’d follow the interesting thread he’d just left her. “What? I’m not up on current affairs, but isn’t the manling Emperor called Septic or Septem or September or something?” She was only half messing with him - she really couldn’t remember what the damn Emperor’s name was. Her copies of the Black Horse Courier mostly ended up as kindling.

Angada was clearly growing impatient with her. “Good, good, you can think, after a fashion. Yes, Tamriel believes that Uriel Septim still rules, but in fact, my master Jagar Tharn, has taken the form of the Emperor and rules in his stead.” Well, the shit sandwich that was her life just kept getting messier, didn’t it? If she made it through this absolute nightmare of a “training exercise” - and yes, she was going to hold that one over Josian’s head for all eternity - she’d be stuck with the ire of an Emperor who was not an Emperor and who would probably be looking to off her for ruining his plans. Excellent.

“That is very interesting,” she said, attempting to look as bored as possible. She was quite good at that expression after seeing it on almost every Daedra she’d come across since entering this godsforsaken place. “But what has that got to do with you and Lord Dagon?”

“Lord Dagon was instrumental in assisting my master in this imposture, and as partial recompense, my master has temporarily placed my not-inconsiderable skills in reading the vagaries of magicka tides at your master’s disposal. And it is this very counsel that your master so earnestly desires that you are keeping from him by your silly questions!” She’d never been so annoying that she’d killed someone on the spot before. Maybe she’d get lucky and Angada would be the first.

She shrugged. “Lord Dagon is very busy and not likely to take interest in the incomprehensible babble of a manling booby.” She was really doing Dagon a favor by taking this guy off his hands. Really, propitious portents this and magical vagaries that - maybe she should just bring him to Dagon and let him snooze the Prince to death.

Angada sighed deeply, looking all but ready to attack her - and he might’ve, if he didn’t seem to be more of an overglorified magical clerk than a battlemage. Lucky her. “Listen. The fate of the Realms and all that is in them is effected by the ebb and flow of magicka. Out there, in the Void, the Waters of Oblivion have receded far from the shores of mortal and immortal realms.”

Not for the first time, Atasha wished Josian had, oh, waited a couple minutes for her so that he could translate this nonsense instead of rushing headfirst into certain danger and getting himself kidnapped like an idiot, but she was doomed to pull off this ridiculous suicide mission alone. “Oh. Say, is that what all this claptrap lying around is about?” Most of the tools resembled what she would’ve seen in the Orrery back on Nirn, but she was very explicitly banned from touching all of that equipment. “Are these those - whatchamachit - magiscopes? Can you really see the Beginning and the Ends of the Worlds in those things? Hey. How about my fortune? Tell me my fortune?” Okay, so maybe she was having a little bit of fun now. Sue her.

Angada looked like if he clenched his teeth any harder, he’d break them. “These devices are far too sensitive to scry upon the coarse and unsubtle fates of toads like you.” Sounded like an excuse if she’d ever heard one. “These devices track the Tides of Fate. But I can tell you your fortune, if you like.”

She put on the fakest excited expression she could manage. “Oh, yes, please!” Though even without him, she knew her most likely fate was to end up getting squashed like a bug under Dagon’s heel.

“If, by your feckless inanity and indolence, you fail to carry this message to Lord Dagon, aand thereby squander the precious wisdom that might be used to shape the destinies of all the mortal and immortal realms, I believe Lord Dagon may use your mouth, and, indeed, your entire alimentary canal, as a fit and handy receptacle for his Terrible and Swift Sword of Destruction!” Wow, she’d really managed to piss him off. Atasha mentally noted that remark for her own future use - given that she was about twenty seconds away from giving Angada his due and leaving him incapable of speaking. It would be a shame for such a poignant insult to never again see the light of day.

But as much as his irritation was amusing her, her meeting with Storm drew closer and she didn’t have an interest in pissing off one of the only Daedra who might be willing and able to help her. “Ahem. Look. This has been fun, but I need to get going. And I’m not a Daedra.” She grinned. “I’m an Imperial Battlemage. Or, at least, I will be one. Very soon.” If she didn’t die here, anyway. “And you are apparently the traitor responsible for opening the gates of Battlespire to the servants of Dagon.”

She might’ve failed most of her classes, but there was a reason she was still ranked second in their cohort. Atasha let flames dance across her fingertips with an ease that put her professors to shame. She was very, very good at combat magic.

Angada’s face going pale only made her grin wider. “What? What? Oh. Dear.”

“The price of treason is death,” and she was so, so happy to be able to carry out that sentence. “I would prefer to bring you before the Emperor himself - wherever he is - if he still lives-“ and wasn’t that a concerning thought, “-for His Justice, but I’m afraid I’m in a bit of a hurry. So. I pronounce upon you the Summary Justice of Emperor Uriel Septim, in his name, and by his Law.” Wow, she was really glad Angada had mentioned his name earlier. She would’ve sounded so dumb if she’d called him Uriah Septon.

For all of his earlier bluster, it seemed her earlier assessment was right - Angada didn’t attack her, whether for lack of combat ability or cowardice, and tried to appeal to her better nature instead. “But you can’t just kill me in cold blood. What about due process? My rights as a noble?” Unfortunately for him, Atasha had no better nature. Instead, she sneered.

“All right. You have a point. So it’s Trial by Combat. Defend yourself, dog, and prove your innocence upon my body.” She mentally applauded herself for that one - it sounded really cool.

Alas, approximately ten seconds later she was the only one able to appreciate how really cool she’d sounded, because Angada was nothing more than ash on the wind. She didn’t even have time to bask in her coolness or the victory, because she really was in a hurry and needed to figure out how to get to Storm’s castle before he decided she was worth more dead than alive.

Atasha pulled out the map she’d been drawing on a sheet of (hopefully unimportant) paper she’d stolen from Old Man Chimere’s house and wondered if she could retire before she’d even been made a full Battlemage.

Notes:

thanks for reading! hope you enjoyed and got as much entertainment from battlespire’s dialogue as i do. my only disappointment is that i wasn’t able to include Angada’s “tell anyone smarter than yourself! a plant! a bench! a dustball!” but it only comes up if you play nice with him and Atasha was Not Interested in that.

anyway see y’all in 6 months when i develop a Shadowkey obsession

-Cat