Chapter Text
From Covenant Reforged: The Empire of Desidenius
by Lucerin Ocato, son of Chancellor Ocato, Philosopher of the Ruby Tower
Revan’s claim to Morrowind’s throne was not proclaimed—it was revealed, proven through blood and sealed in the return of one of the most sacred relics in Dunmeri history: the Crown of Barenziah.
Forged at the coronation of Queen Barenziah during the early years of the Third Era, the Crown was more than regalia—it was a living relic, a symbol of Mournhold’s sovereignty and the enduring soul of Resdayn. Fashioned of gilded electrum and shaped in the wings of the Velothi eagle, the Crown held twenty-five ancestral gemstones—twenty-four on its bands, with a singular soul-gem set in the center. But its greatest power lay not in appearance, but in the ancient Chimeric enchantments woven into it: a test of royal descent, known to glow only in the hands of those born of Barenziah’s bloodline.
Queen Barenziah
For centuries after the Red Year, the Crown was believed destroyed. Its gemstones had been plundered. Its enchantments had faded. With the deaths of Helseth, poisoned during the fracturing of the Dunmeri nobility, and Morgiah, lost in quiet exile beneath foreign stars, the royal line of Mournhold was considered broken, perhaps extinct. The Temple no longer spoke the names of the old monarchs. The Houses no longer revered them. The Crown—like the bloodline—was memory only.
Helseth Morgiah
But blood has a way of surviving what the world forgets.
Unknown to all but a few, Barenziah had borne a secret child, conceived in the shadow of scandal. Her lover was Drayven Indoril, a Nightingale thief and bard once employed by Jagar Tharn during the Simulacrum to steal the Staff of Chaos. Their daughter, Dralsi, was spirited away, hidden from history’s eyes. She in turn gave birth to Karliah, trained in the ways of shadow and silence, but marked by a fire inherited from both royal and rogue.
Drayven Indoril Jagar Tharn
Dralsi Indoril Karliah
And it was Karliah’s son with Gallus Desidenius—himself a descendant of the Imperial Champion of Cyrodiil—who would rise from obscurity. That son was Revan.
Gallus Desidenius Champion of Cyrodiil Revan
During his years wandering the frozen north as Dragonborn, Revan was drawn by an unseen hand. He did not chase stories; he followed something more innate. He later said:
“I didn’t hunt the gems. I simply knew where they were—like memories from a life that never was, calling me home.”
One by one, over months and years, he unearthed all twenty-four stones, each awakening with power when brought near him. When finally, the last was in hand, Revan discovered the lost Crown itself, buried in silence, long forgotten.
At first, it was lifeless—its surface dulled by time, its glow gone. But when Revan placed the final gem into its setting and lifted the Crown to his brow, the enchantment roared back to life. It cast a violet-gold blaze, dancing like dawn over Red Mountain. The witnesses—few at first, and disbelieving—were struck silent. For the Crown shines only for a child of Barenziah. And it shone.
Still, there were skeptics. Rumors of forgery spread among noble circles and Temple holdouts. To answer them, Revan summoned a conclave of master enchanters: scholars of the College, Synod mages, and even Telvanni recluses. These were no loyalists. They had no interest in crowns or kings.
Their findings were decisive:
“The enchantments are original. The craftsmanship, pre-Tribunal. The magical signature, unchanged since the early Third Era. This is no forgery—it is the Crown of Barenziah.”
But the final word came from the last soul alive who had seen Barenziah crowned.
Divayth Fyr, the ancient Telvanni lord, was summoned to bear witness. The assembly of Houses and Temple dignitaries stood as he examined Revan and the Crown. After a long silence, Fyr spoke:
“This is hers. And he is hers. I remember the light at her rise. And it shines again.”
In that moment, what had been speculation became certainty.
Revan Desidenius was not a pretender, nor a relic hunter, nor a lucky opportunist.
He was the flame reborn.
Through relic, blood, and vision, the royal line of Mournhold had returned—not to rule by name alone, but by right, will, and divine inheritance.