In troubled times, seldom do we get to choose our confederates. We make our stand with those who find themselves, by desiderata of fate and circumstance, as reluctantly allied to us as we are to them.
One needs only look towards the red and black banners of the Ebonheart Pact. Hundreds of years of conflict and subjugation put aside to ensure their conjoint survival against the mighty invasions of the Akaviri. It is an aberrant alliance, and like pallid dye treating swarthy leather, it cannot hope to conceal a thousand years of hostility and mistrust … yet that very same concord of necessity endures to this day.
Whilst I find the sharp-tongued cynicism of Tharn vexatious, at least he wears his motivations like a jerkin. Lyris and the old man on the other hand treat with me only in veils and half-truths. I care little for their reasons, yet I suspect their crusade to save Nirn is more an attempt to wipe away the biting stigma of past actions from their conscience.
Why matters not to me, just so long as our destination remains the same.