A Confession of Annana Rathen, Temple Priestess (Part 1)

When I first saw his Beneficence, my heart stopped. After that, there was only him. Or her. Actually I'm still rather confused about that. To know Vivec is to be confused.

As a child, and later as an Acolyte of the Temple, I had heard much about the Lord Vivec. Heard how he protected the Dunmeri people throughout the ages, how he stopped the rock from Sheogorath, repelled the invaders from Akavir, and defeated Dagoth Ur with the hero Nerevar. I had seen his image on his shrine, cross-legged with sword and razor-shield. I even read his sermons, though I did not understand them. In fact, though I have read everything there is to read about him, everything in the Temple library, I feel as though I still know nothing. Who is Vivec? I do not know. Perhaps that is because he is more than a person, he is a god. And I love him. Yes I confess, I love him in a way that is more than spiritual. I love what I do not know.

As an Acolyte, I was responsible for the assisting the priest with The Poet's Canticle, a section of the Triune Rite. My official title was Representation of Vivec. I was chosen for this role because I was a young girl whose features were not yet apparent, my hair shaved for liturgical purposes. Each week, ash was smeared across half my face, for I was to be a living icon of a living god in that hour on Middas. At those times, I would ask Vivec in prayer that I might stand out of the way, that he might better reach his people. I have no indication that he did not hear me.

Those mornings in the Balmora Temple were always the same. As attendants wrapped me in dark robes that would obscure my whole body, save my head and hands, I watched the townsfolk walk up the hill to commune with the Tribunal. They would enter a place transformed; the ordinarily welcoming and homely temple now made sacred. The torches were extinguished and the chanters, invisible through alchemy, had already begun their song. The air was thick with incense and ancestors. Before the rite started proper, people made their donations and prayers at the shrines of various saints. This gave me a moment of time alone with Vivec's image. In the gloom, he appeared grim. He is never depicted as smiling. I later found this was true to life. Vivec's smile is not natural. He smiles for his people and he smiled for me, but I never saw him smile when alone. Who knows what weighs on the heart of god? In any case, the worshipers would then gather around the ashpits of the temple, kneeling, their dark faces and clasped hands only faintly illuminated by the candles on floor. All is hidden and barely visible; we are Dunmer and we pray in darkness.

The rite proceeded in the same order each time: The Call of Veloth, the reading of one of the Lives of the Saints, the chanting of AYEM AE SEHTI AE VEHK followed by the singing of the Canticles of the Mother and Father. Two other Acolytes my age would take the role of Almalexia and Sotha Sil in those Canticles. Then the priest would turn his attention to me and we would sing our lines.

"Who are you, poet of violence and warrior of words?" the priest would chant.

"Vehk and Vehk," I would respond.

"How did we know your grace before we knew your face?"

"I was cocooned within the webs of Mephala, the sex-death of language not yet spoken until the time was right."

"What truth would you have us know?"

"The Mastery of Love. Love is under my will only."

I will ponder what that last phrase means for the rest of my life. Did the Lord make me love him? I have no doubt that he can control all love. Yet if he made me love him, he never intended to return it. This is my trial of faith for him that I suffer under his will. I will love him until he makes me stop loving him. I do not understand his sermons, but this I understand.

After that section, we would bless the people. The Representation of Almalexia would kiss their foreheads. The Representation of Sotha Sil would smear ash upon their cheeks. I would whisper the word "Almsivi" upon my fingers and touch the outstretched tongues of the congregants. The head priest would cure their diseases if necessary. The Rite then concluded with the ending of the words.

When I performed those duties, I loved Vivec because I was Vivec. It was a different kind of love than the love I currently find myself under. Stronger, yet less kind. An overwhelming desire to see his will be done on earth and heaven. I think all Representations feel something like this for their deity. But for me, he only became more than a deity when I saw him in the flesh one year ago.