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Civil War Aftermath Chapter 2: War of the Sundered Dragon


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Rebec Red-Snow
Falkreath town
Late evening, day 8 of the siege
 

The admiral made the round of sentries, hoping that a Solitude courier might have made it through somehow.  She was worried about the naval war, now that she had been cut off from contact for a while and couldn't monitor it.  What if Sigrid hadn't gotten her dispatch and was still attacking imperial ships?  As much from the inhospitable conditions as the Stormcloak efforts, the blockade fleet had been severely hit.  It wasn't Rebec's problem if the empire lost its navy, but if they had nothing with which to defend against the Dominion later, that would be her problem eventually.

There was no news from Solitude, but at one of the outposts a sentry came running in saying he had a message from a legion soldier brought in secret under a truce banner.  Rebec looked at the seal and recognized it as likely being Gracchus Ceno's initials.  "Great," she grumbled.  "We're best mates now."

The message was adressed to Baldur, but Rebec took the liberty of opening it anyway.  It could be urgent.  Maybe the attack had been moved up, or the Thalmor weren't going to take the bait and assault the walls as they hoped?
 

General Red-Snow,

I have recieved disturbing reports of Thalmor raiding parties harassing your citizens in the area around Falkreath, such as Sleeping Tree Camp and Half Moon Mill. I have written and dispatched this letter to confirm that it is the Thalmor and Thalmor alone who are partaking in these raids. My officers have been informed of the plan and only await the coming Thalmor attack. The provocation you have set up should ensure that they will soon.

For the glory of the Empire
GQC


Well that was good and bad news, mostly good.  Rebec felt for the citizens in the countryside, but there was nothing to be done for them.  The Thalmor were no doubt looking for Talos worshippers or maybe at this point just for food.  Sleeping Tree Camp was an encampment of giants, and there was supposed to be a strange tree there with eldritch powers.  The admiral knew little about such things and didn't want to know, but the Thalmor would be interested in something like that.  They had better come prepared if they were going to be fighting giants and their woolly beasts.  She recalled the stories her pa had told her about giants, about how once they had lived together with humans in Atmora, even serving as kings sometimes, and he said that they ought to be respected.  The creatures were best respected from a distance, as far as Rebec could tell.

Recalling something she and Baldur had discussed that afternoon, Rebec asked the sentries if the imperial messenger was still around.  He had been held by the Stormcloaks until they found out the message was legitimate, so Rebec asked that he be held a while longer, and treated well.  She ran back to the longhouse and quickly penned a message back to Gracchus.
 

Legate Gracchus or whatever you're called

If you have trouble convincing our friends of the planned assault, we give you leave to shoot your gods damned catapults at our wall a couple times- supposing you have one that still works.  Concentrate on the northern side, which we'll see is weakened a bit and will thus be breached.  We trust our shield wall to hold in a small gap.  That should persuade the devils that it's worth it to storm us.  After that, if your legions don't do what you said you're going to, Talos help us all.

Admiral Rebec Red-Snow


P.S. Don't overdo it on the catapults.
 

She ran the message back to the wall and said to the imperial messenger, "Tell Gracchus Ceno that the glory of his empire won't be worth a pile of mudcrab dung if he doesn't keep his promise."

As she walked back toward the longhouse a passing Necro Nord then told her that earlier, while she had been in a meeting with some of the Falkreath townsfolk, she had missed a duel between Baldur and one of the older officers.  The admiral cursed her damn luck and the incessant demands of Falkeath's citizens.  Baldur had won the duel, of course.  It would have been a sight to see.  The thought gave her flutters in her stomach.  The Necro Nord added that the general was now at a campfire with some of his men and they were trying to get him sing.  This she had to hear.

As she was making her way there, Rebec was stopped by an imperial woman she recognized from the meeting earlier, holding a covered basket on her arm.  There were whispers that the woman, Indara, had lost a daughter to a werewolf attack sometime during the war.

"What is it?" Rebec asked impatiently.  She felt sorry for the woman, who seemed to wear a perpetual frown, but Rebec had had it with the petty concerns of the townspeople. They always seemed to seek her out for their problems, maybe because she was a woman so they assumed she'd be sympathetic.  You'd think that they would know better by now.

"I'm sorry to bother you, Admiral.  Some of the women in town got together and decided we wanted to do something for you and General Red-Snow.  We saw his wounds, and we're not ungrateful for what you all are doing for us.  The general was right when he said that without your army, the Thalmor would be doing the same to the rest of us right now.  We've all lost so much, so it's hard to remember that we could still lose more."

This was a surprise.  "Thank you, but we're all just doing our duty."

"I know that, we all do.  The news has also gone around that you and the general got married here in our town.  We figured that you didn't get a wedding cake, so some of us scraped together what stores we had left and made you some tarts.  I'd have given them to you earlier, but they were still in the oven.  Apple and snowberry.  I hope you like them."  Indara handed over her basket.

Rebec took it and lifted the cover.  The intoxicating smell of freshly baked, still-warm tarts wafted out of its interior.  The admiral was about to say thank you, but Indara had already left.  Rebec decided she'd better get the tarts back to the longhouse or Baldur would never get any.  There were already Stormcloaks passing by whose heads were turning from the fragrance.

In the longhouse, Rebec stopped suddenly at the door of the jarl's room when she a faint, familiar sound.  Boldir's flute!  Or rather, Jodun's flute, but Boldir was playing it, of that she had no doubt.  Rebec thought about rushing up to see the captain, but something halted her.  If she interrupted him, Boldir would quit playing, and she thought that after what he'd been through, he needed the music.

She sank to a chair, depositing the basket of tarts next to her, and listened.  As the playing went on, it drew Rebec's mind to all that had happened in the past year, and to think about Indara's words.  The war had cost them all dearly, but in an odd turn of fate, it had brought her more happiness than she had thought possible.  When she felt the tear rolling down her cheek, Rebec realized that she had needed to hear the music, too.

It's always nice when your writing gets reinforced by the canon after you come up with it.

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Legate Gracchus Ceno
Imperial Camp, Falkreath Hold
Day 8 of Siege, Night


Gracchus was unable to sleep, the thought of the battle weighing heavily on his mind. The arrest and subsequent imprisonment of Legate Ignatius had gone over better than he expected, as the Dominion support was almost exclusive to the few men who had attacked him. It had shocked him the course Ignatius had take , and even more so by the quick reactions from Pilus and Valvius. Pilus he expected to act like that, but he thought Valvius incapable of killing anyone, especially on such short notice.

This battle will make or break this war, and this alliance. The Igantius arrest helped out in one aspect, as the rest of the leaders seemed to side with me. Now we just have to wait until the Thalmor are provoked into attacking, Gracchus thought.

Just then, a courier came bursting into the tent, hair dripping with sweat and carrying a parchment.

"Sir, message from the Stormcloaks. It's urgent, sir," the letter-bearer said.

Gracchus grabbed the parchment, sat down, and pulled a candle close so he could read the letter.


Legate Gracchus or whatever you're called

If you have trouble convincing our friends of the planned assault, we give you leave to shoot your gods damned catapult at our wall a couple times- supposing you have one that still works. Concentrate on the northern side, which we'll see is weakened a bit and will thus be breached. We trust our shield wall to hold in a small gap. That should persuade the devils that it's worth it to storm us. After that, if your legions don't do what you said you're going to, Talos help us all.

Admiral Rebec Red-Snow

P.S. Don't overdo it on the catapult
 

As Gracchus was reading the sentry spoke again.

"Sir, the High Admiral also said, and these are her words, that the glory of his empire won't be worth a pile of mudcrab dung if he doesn't keep his promise. "

"Thank you, you're dismissed."

It seems the High Admiral doesn't trust us to hold out on our side of the bargain. If only she knew that we are similar in that opinion. I don't blame her, especially after what happened to her ship. This plan of hers is interesting, though. If the Thalmr don't outright attack one gate or the other, we may have to do that. With Valindil gone, they may be susceptible to me outright ordering them to attack. I think I could create a good speech to rile them up about Valindil's death.

Gracchus was drowsy by the time he finished thinking about the letter, and finally laid down, drifting off into much needed sleep.

It's always nice when your writing gets reinforced by the canon after you come up with it.

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Boldir, Rebec, Baldur
Falkreath Longhouse
Morning


Late that night, Baldur had found Rebec still sitting in the main hall listening to Boldir play, and she had trouble to convince him not to interrupt Boldir, either.  They were both relieved that he was obviously well enough to play the flute.

"We'll see him in the morning," she said, then showed Baldur the tarts that the town women had made for them.  They each downed one as a bedtime snack while Rebec gave him the report about the Thalmor raids in the countryside.  Afterward they fell asleep in each other's arms.

In the morning, Rebec fetched some warmed mead and they took it and two of the leftover tarts up to Boldir's room.  The admiral knocked on the door.  "Wake up, Bilfur.  This is the one and only time I'm serving you breakfast."

Boldir looked up at her from his bed. He wasn't sure when he'd fallen asleep, but he remembered laying down in his bed after the sun had come up. He figured that that would've been a couple hours ago at most. Not that he cared. After yesterday, he didn't much need the sleep anyway. He opened his mouth to answer Rebec, but stopped himself, remembering how baddly speaking had hurt his voice last night. He decided to settle for a whisper. "Hey Rebec." Boldir said while sitting up. "What's the occasion?"
The whispering didn't hurt nearly as much as it had when he'd shouted, but it did make sarcasm harder to convey.

Baldur raised an eyebrow at the response, wondering if the man bumped his head as well as had his throat slit. Slightly laughing, Baldur said, "What's the occasion? You not dying of course. How'd you like the mead? Good right?"

Boldir nodded. "Yeah, thanks for that brother." He looked over at the bottle, which was still only half-empty. "So this 'almost dying' business. What do you know about all that?"

Rebec came in and put the breakfast down next to the remnants of the evening meal.  "Wait, wait!  Talk second.  Hug first."  She leaned down to embrace Boldir, being careful of his neck, then stepped back.  "You got your throat cut, you big lunk.  The men found you on the floor of the prison bleeding like a Sundas dinner pig.  You don't remember anything?"

Boldir responded a little louder this time. Testing his voice. "I remember some things." It hurt him more to talk regularly, but it was bearable.

"That man we were after, I found him. He'd been hiding in his brother's house. But another came and killed them. Big Imperial. I got him. Questioned him. Hold on..." Boldir coughed a few times, which brought on a small fit of them. It hurt his throat immensely, but he couldn't do anything about it. Talking so much with such a raspy voice was brining about the coughs. He decided to wrap the story up quickly so that he could get back to using shorter sentences. He cleared his throat.

"Sorry about that." His voice was a little clearer now. "He didn't talk. Then a guard, someone in the armor, showed up  with some Imp civilian. He was angry. Then the guard got me from behind." Boldir felt his neck. He was certain that there was no scar. He'd even checked in a mirror last night. "What did they do to my throat?"

Baldur was furious that a civilian had the balls to do this to his friend. Every cough, every clearing of the throat, every twist of pain in Boldir's face sent a deep aching in his gut. The pain that his friend was suffering he felt on himself. What was worse was that he couldn't do a damn thing about it.

"Witchie came here to get the Princess. He goes by Skjari now. He's the one who healed you. We had another healer trying to fix you up, but that wasn't going well. They may have got the job done eventually, but you'd have lost more blood, and probably still comatose right now. You.. you have no idea how..." Baldur stopped himself from going on, as he started getting choked up a little. He was embarrassed, so he covered it up by clearing his throat and casting an angry scowl. "Do you feel fit to fight, or do you need to sit this one out?"

Boldir couldn't believe his friend would even ask such a question. "Are you kidding? How could I call myself a Nord if I let a sore throat keep me out of this fight? Don't worry about me. I'll be fine."

"Heh, don't be so offended. I had to ask. With all the food you ate, not to mention my mead, you better be fit for duty. Can't tell you how hard it was for me not to eat that damn chicken myself...." said Baldur.

Rebec paced in the little room, shaking her head.  "Lorgar.  Thalmor.  Now we've got townspeople trying to kill us?  Burning stores is one thing, murdering a captain takes it to a whole new level.  I don't suppose we're going to be able to find these fuckers now, though.  If they had guard uniforms, they probably could talk their way out of the gates."

"The big guy knew me," Boldir said. "That's all I know. It doesn't matter. We've got more to worry about right now. It can wait until after we've dealt with the Thalmor."

Rebec sat down in the chair at the end of the bed and leaned forward.  "I'm sorry, Boldir.  Honestly we've been so tied up with the imperials and Thalmor that we must have missed something with these saboteurs.  In fact, I knew we were missing something, but I couldn't find the thread ends.  I feel like... we feel like we let you down.  Gods, if you... no, not going to think about that."

Boldir didn't like that Rebec blamed herself and Baldur for his own mistakes. "No one is to blame for this. You were right to put the Thalmor threat before this one. Besides, you got Stronlief's name, which was all you needed to do. Everything that happened after that was on me. I wasn't careful enough in that prison, and I payed for it. It had nothing to do with you." Despite the pain it caused, Boldir laughed. "And you don't seriously think that something like a slit throat is enough to stop me do you?"

"It's a slit throat, Boldir. Don't try acting tough. You're lucky that civilian didn't know what he was doing. If he did..." said Baldur, who raised his voice unwittingly. He was still angry at the whole situation, and was a bit annoyed by his nonchalant attitude of almost being killed. I am a hypocrite. This must be how they felt when I returned.

"If he did, I'd be dead, and we wouldn't be having these delicious tarts right now. Don't worry, I understand how close I got. And I know how fortunate I am to be here right now... Sorry for the poor joke. I'll wait a week next time."

Baldur sighed. "No it's fine. You'll have to forgive me. I just hate that I don't have someone to put to the sword for this is all. Sorry for acting like your pa. If you're feeling up to it, then you need to get suited up in your armor. We don't know when the Thalmor will come."

Baldur extended his hand towards Boldir to lift him out of the bed.

"Wish they'd hurry their asses up." Boldir said. "I'm starting to get real tired of this damned city."

"If it makes you feel any better, there's somebody else who had a sore throat," Rebec said.  "The imperials gave us the bastard who tortured Baldur, and we hung him from the walls.  We're hoping it will bait the Thalmor to attack us so that the imperials can hit them from the rear.  Oh, and Princess is gone, so the halls are safe again."  Glancing at Baldur, she added, "I hope Witchie knows what he's doing.  If that girl dies or flees and leaves her father on the throne, we'll have more armies coming up over Pale Pass."

Baldur tried putting a positive spin on things, but in the end it just came out more hopeful. Or desperate. "At the very least, this will buy us some time for our armies to form, and for Hammerfell to send more support. We should be getting help anytime now. Will that be enough? Probably not. When the Thalmor snagged an Emperor, it was almost over right there. To be honest, unless by some miracle the Thalmor accidentally pisses them off, this rag tag plan of ours is our only hope. Unless we got Morrowind's help, but..."

Baldur put his arm over Boldir's shoulder, and stood Rebec up and put his other arm around hers, then hugged them both silently. With his eyes closed, Baldur said, "We'll be fine. Lets just do the best we can, and hope that the gods get off their lazy asses and help us."

Rebec put a hand over Baldur's.  "The gods can do what they want.  I trust in you two."  She stood and leaned forward to smack Boldir affectionately on the belly.  "Eat those tarts.  You're looking skinny and that's ridiculous for a Nord.  Now I'd better go get the others up and around, and see what Suri's been up to."

"Never been called skinny before," Boldir laughed. He thought for a moment about how lucky he was to have friends like Baldur and Rebec. In all of his years as a soldier, all the people he'd known and lost that he'd called friend, he could easily say that despite only knowing Baldur for a few years, and Rebec less than one, the bond he shared with them was one of, if not the strongest he'd felt with anyone. "Anyway, I've got work to do with the militia." He headed of where he'd discarded his armor in the corner. "If we may be fighting today, I've got to make up for the day in bed."

"And I'll be with the Grim Ones by the gate. Let's get this over with." said Baldur.

It's always nice when your writing gets reinforced by the canon after you come up with it.

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Gracchus, Eduard, Tullius, Lorgar, Skjari
Falkreath, Imperial Camp
Day 9 of Siege, Morning-Evening
 

Gracchus woke, the sounds of men talking loudly shaking him from sleep's grip. Today was the day. Either the Thalmor would attack on their own, or the Imperials would incite them to. Gracchus put on his armor quickly, and grabbed his scabbard, sliding it around his waist as he exited the camp. The Thalmor camp, away in the distance, was bustling with activity, the rising sun glinting off their golden armor in an almost blinding fashion. Pilus was leaning against a nearby tree, already armored.

"It's about time. Beginning to think you would never wake," Pilus said.

"You should have woken me sooner," Gracchus replied.

"I didn't see the harm." Pilus lowered his voice, and continued. "We'll need all the rest we can get."

"I know. We better find Tullius. We need to begin preparations."

Gracchus led the way, heading towards where the Sons of Whiterun had set up camp. He soon spotted Skjari, who was walking towards him.

"I think I'll be joining the battle mages for today. And leave a big gap between the soldiers in front of me. I got a big surprise that needs the space."

"That sounds fine. We'll need all the firepower we can get," Gracchus said.

With that Skjari left, headed towards where the battlemages were stationed. Gracchus ordered them to stay as at the eastern edge of the camp, closest to the Thalmor encampment to provide quick attacking power if the Thalmor ever caught onto their scheme. Most of them were milling about, although they had the intuition to put on their armor. The Thalmor moving troops around had peaked their suspicions, so they were on high alert.

As Gracchus neared the sons of Whiterun camp. He noticed a great deal of activity. All of the troops were doing marching drills. In-charge of the drills, was a massive nord in black-nordic plate, with a Whiterun service patch. His rank insignia was a colonel.

Addressing the man in charge, Gracchus said,

"Colonel, where is General Tullius? I must speak to him at once."

"Legate, he's currently nagging the NCO's at the command tent."

A balcava clad solder approached the colonel from the right, and saluted.

"Colonel Balgruuf, the men are ready for the combat exercise's."

"Good...good. Tell them to wait, I have to show this legionary to General tullius, follow me Legate."

Gracchus' interest was peaked as he heard the Colonel's name.

So this is the great Jarl Balgruuf. I was wondering where Tullius had him stashed away, Gracchus thought.

He didnt say anything, instead choosing to follow the man in silence as he lead the way to Tullius.

They reached a large circular yellow tent, Gracchus could hear...yelling coming from it. Balgruuf knocked on the entrance flap,

"Ummm sir?"

Gracchus could hear a yell from the tent.

"WHAT IS IT?!"

"Ummmm Legate Ceno is here to see you..."

"SEND THE IDIOT IN..."

"Yes sir..."

Balgruuf told Gracchus,

"Dont piss him off...."

"I shall try not to. He does seen a bit angrier than usual," Gracchus said.

Entering the sent, Gracchus addressed Tullius.

"Hello General. How go the preparations?"

"Fucking great legate."

"I see you haven't gotten any happier since last we met."

Gracchus stepped forward, leaning his hands on the table, and spoke in a lowered voice.

"I actually came here to tell you that the Dominion is preparing for an attack."

"Heheheheh, the troops should be glad to hear that, an actual challenge."

Gracchus smiled, and pulled back from his lean.

"I'm sure they will be delighted. What do you suggest our next course of action is?"

"I'll have my men wait in the forest, knowing the dominion, they'll probably fall back to fort Neuad and Helgen once they find out we betrayed them one-hundred percent."

Gracchus stroked his goatee, before pointing to a spot between Falkreath town and Helgen.

"That is true. We won't let them get that far. I expect it to be close quarters, so I'll dispatch my archers with your men in the forest. That way we don end up hitting our own men in the attack, and during the Dominion retreat we can pepper them with arrows."

"It's done then. I recommend you organize your forces for the "siege"."

"I will. The Stormcloaks recommended we hit the north side with our catapults, as they would be weakened. I'll also get the Thalmor to lead the vanguard, to redeem their fallen Colonel."

Gracchus left, and headed back towards his command tent. Once there, he sent out couriers to both his officers and whoever was in charge of the Thalmor now. They agreed to lead the vanguard, but only once his catapults had cleared a hole in the wall. By the time the preparations were made, the sun was beginning to set.

Gracchus was seated on Lil Ceno, close to the catapults in order to direct their fire. He gave the signal, and the huge boulders smashed into the wall with the force of a thunderstorm. The few archers he kept began firing arrows, dummy ones with wooden, blunted tips designed to leave bruises at most. The target was the northern side of the east gate wall, which they weakened during the first attack.

He had six centuries of men on either side, with their orders to only attack the Dominon troops once the wall was down. They would attack from the sides and the back, while the Stormcloak shield wall held from the front. The rest were in reserve, ready to give chase to the fleeing Dominion army.

The battlemages, down to around sixty five , were split into three groups of twenty, one group for each two centuries. The other five made up Gracchus' personal guard, all standing around him ready to defend their Legate.

Pilus, leading the battlemage group that was part of the central two centuries, stood in his Imperial studded armor, waiting for the battle to begin. Gracchus had placed him in charge of this group, with Arius in charge of the eastern battlemage group and Varus in charge of the western group. They would be substitutes for the archers, who were waiting to attack the retreating Thalmor. Their job was to take out the Thalmor mages, who posed the greatest threat. They were outnumbered, but split up so they could attack from multiple directions.

I hope this attack works. I'm tired of losing friends because of supposed Talos worship or because they refused to be a Thalmor dog, Pilus thought.

Witchie had taken position with northern mage group. And with the hood and veil on they all looked at him with both curiosity and a little bit of fear. Once the formations were set Witchie started to slowly drain the other mages as he charged his summoning spell, this time he wouldn't pass out. The draining was so small that it was practically unnoticeable by the other mages, there was no need to hurry as the Thalmor had yet to take up their positions. All that was left now was to wait, to wait for Gracchus to give the order to charge. Hopefully the imperials wouldn't be too scared by the surprise.

Eduard was preparing his arrow with a variety of poisons, all of them lethal. He was with the rest of the archers, waiting on the call to fire on the Thalmor. It was only a matter of time.

It's about time we started fighting these guys...

Tullius stood crouched on the branches of a tree, beside him clad in a dark cloak, was his comrade Lorgar Grim-maw, brooding in the shadows of the tree. and with his hood down. Tullius himself wore the standard issue dark-leather armour of his mercenary unit, along with there trade-mark balcava. He bore his custom-made ebony imperial shortsword, along with a nordic waraxe. Lorgar was armed with his ebony knives, and his massive ebony great-bow. Tullius, under his balcava, said in a hushed tone,

"You ready old friend?"

Lorgar chuckled darkly,

"Ready as I ever will be..."

Lorgar put up his hood, cloaking his face in darkness. The grey wolf on his hood starred hungrily at Tullius, looking as if it was ready to feast on the flesh of elves. Lorgar laughed chillingly,

"It's time to turn day into night...turn the hunter into prey...the wolf shall devour the snake...and gold shall be turned into black..."

Gracchus watched, and sent the order to charge to the man next to him, who gave two loud blows if the war horn. The catapults had smashed the wall apt to rubble, and the last boulder finally toppled it. Before the dust had settled, the Thalmor vanguard ran in, charging and yelling cries of "Valindil!" and "Long live the Thalmor!"

The signal was given and spell fully charged. Witchie released it and the giant snow white werewolf-like creature, with a fierce howling that brought chills to the bone, appeared in front of him and the other battle mages. Everyone on the battlefield stopped with what they were doing for a brief moment to look, all with varying degrees of horror in their faces. It then quickly charged through the gap between the soldiers, which was big enough and some of the legionaries fell to the ground as they were pushed to the side as the wolf ran on all four towards the Thalmor.

Gracchus saw the wolf, white as unmelting snow and headed towards the Thalmor. They would have reached the shield wall by now, and the time was ripe for their demise. The war horn, and the legionnaires charged at the backs of their former allies, with only their utter demise in mind.

It's always nice when your writing gets reinforced by the canon after you come up with it.

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Day 9 of the siege
Falkreath town
Morning
 

Runil stared at the fresh earth of more bodies, and found that he couldn't remember the prayers he was supposed to say.  Arkay is a false god, a mortal, the teachings about him are foul corruption and heresy.  Unwilling the old thoughts, the things that had been impressed into him by his teachers and later more forcefully by the religious officers of the Dominion army, came into his mind and clashed against those words he mouthed to the townsfolk when they buried their loved ones.

If Arkay was false, then it was fitting that he, Runil of Sunhold, should be his priest.  The old Altmer had watched as the Stormcloaks tortured and hanged the Thalmor officer from the walls.  In his dreams that night, the face under the hood had been his.  If the citizens of Falkreath knew his crimes, they might do the same to him.  He almost welcomed the idea.  To be free of the contradictions, the accusing voices, the burden of always being what people needed him to be while knowing that the reality was something else.

There was activity in the town that morning, a restless feeling.  The soldiers were gearing up.  He had seen some at work on the wall, and had given leave for the redguard who had been guarding him to go join their fellows.  All but two had agreed.  Those two stood off at a distance, grim-faced.  They sensed something, too.  Perhaps today would be the day that he would face the end, one way or another.  Runil hoped someone else would say the prayers over him that he could not say for others.  The last hypocrisy.

Just then there was a loud sound of rock meeting rock, the imperial catapults firing on the wall, close by.  Over by the gates there were shouts and the ring of metal.  

A woman's voice, panicky, brought him out of his thoughts.  "Father Runil!  Father Runil!"

"Aglaren.  What is it, child?"

"We're under attack!"

"So it seems.  We all knew this day would come."

"But I heard some of the Stormcloaks talking.  They're planning to round up all the elves in town and hang them from the walls, starting with you!  They're saying you were Thalmor and they're going to do to you what they did to the other Thalmor prisoner.  We have to get out of here."

"It was probably just angry talk.  The officers will keep order."

"But it was the officers saying it!  Admiral Rebec and one of those Grim Ones were talking.  They said they're going to hang you first, then the rest of us.  Come with me, some of us are waiting over by the mill.  The Stormcloaks put a metal grate in the river, but if we combine fire spells we can melt the bars back and get out of here."

The priest was about to protest that the soldiers would never do such a thing to innocent citizens, but he stopped short.  Both the general and admiral had watched coldly while some young woman put out the eyes of the Thalmor prisoner.  They had encouraged it, in fact.  There had been talk that there would be hangings in retaliation for an attack on Captain Iron-Brow.  The stories about the imperial camp Rommulas, the burned farms, prisoners disappearing...  He had an image of the general and admiral on the day he married them.  They said the vows, but both were clad in armor and war paint.  He imagined those same faces, grim instead of smiling, saying that they were just doing what was necessary to win the war and to protect Skyrim.

"My place is here, to the end," Runil answered finally, resigned.  "If the Stormcloaks kill me, then it will only be a fate I've long escaped while others perished.  Go.  Get the others out.  I won't reveal you."

Another projectile whistled through the air and crashed into the wall.  A moment later there was an echoing crash, the sound of the wall caving in under the bombardment.  The priest could now hear shouts outside the walls, too, an advancing army.  They were going to take the town.  Despite his resolve, Runil's hands began to shake.

When he looked back to Aglaren, the Bosmer was crouched down, making motions on the ground.  Under her hands the grass crackled with magic power.  Runil's redguard guards came closer, also watching her.

Aglaren stood up. "I knew you wouldn't come willingly.  So be it then.  There are other ways."

Before the priest could make any reply, the Bosmer began to draw mana into her hands, and sent a spell towards the two redguard behind him.  The two men's eyes bulged and they drew their swords.

"Aglaren, what are you-" Runil began, then he watched in horror that the two soldiers had begun to attack each other.  He stood rooted in shock a moment, then began to create a dispel.

Just then the markings Aglaren had made on the ground began to glow, and two Thalmor justiciars appeared on the spot, one after the other.  They grabbed Runil's arms as he tried to cast.  Before he knew what was happening, the priest's hands were being tied behind his back and he had been put under a powerful paralysis spell.  The justiciars then quickly sent ice spears into the wounded, grappling redguards, killing them.

They turned him around to face them, and one of the justiciars grasped the front of his robe, leering.  "Greetings, traitor.  You have hidden long enough here, like a flea clinging to a dying dog.  Soon you will know the justice of the Aldmeri Dominion."

The Bosmer interrupted.  "We should get out of here.  Can you teleport us all back to your camp?"

"The spell is not so powerful.  We'll hide out here until the walls are breached and then there will be no need.  And, when I say 'we'..."  The justiciar made a motion, signaling his companion, who stepped forward and thrust a dagger into the back of the Bosmer woman's neck.  "... I don't mean you.  You have proven useful in the end, Aglaren, sloppy as this operation was.  Thank you."

"We can hide in that building over there," his companion said, stepping over the Bosmer's body as if it were a puddle in the street.  "The Hall of the Dead, they call it.  Aglaren said there's some Nord that lurks around there, but he should be no problem."

"Yes.  Simple as they are, brandishing their little metal toys," the other agreed, laughing.

The air behind him rippled in an odd shimmer, and then a second later a black, gold-inscribed axe protruded from the justiciar's head.  A female Nord was gripping its handle.  "We do like our metal toys," she said with a smile.

"How did you..." the other Thalmor stammered, unaccustomed to seeing Nords using spells.

The justiciar recovered from his shock quickly, and, thrusting Runil aside, tossed a gout of flame in the woman's direction.  She was pulling her axe from his companion's head, but moved in time to position his dead companion in the way.  His robes caught fire, and the Nord shoved the burning corpse towards the justiciar.  He dodged, but before he could get another flame spell off, the justiciar felt a sting in his neck and paralysis spread through his limbs.

The woman stood next to him, her fist balled and pressing into his skin.  "This is for Jodun." When she withdrew her hand, the Thalmor agent saw a ring inscribed with a serpent sign and Yokudan symbols.

Impossible.  It was impossible.  No Nord could best two justiciars.  They were little better than violent animals...

He was still wrestling with the paradox of it all as the woman raised her bloody axe.  "This is for Skyrim."

***

Rebec reached down to help Runil to his feet.  When she killed the first justiciar, it had released him from the paralysis spell, but he had stumbled back, weakened from it and from the shock.

"Figured those scrolls out finally," the admiral was saying.  "Have to admit, that elven devilry can be useful from time to time.  Are you alright, Father Runil?"

"I... I am..."  Runil looked around at the smoking, bloodied ground.  More bodies to bury, more death, and he was still alive.  The Altmer was dismayed, but in spite of himself, also relieved.

"Why'd you send away your redguards?  I'd tan their hides if their hides weren't already tan.  I can't watch you every minute, Runil."

"How did you know?"

"I've been keeping an eye on that Aglaren.  Saw her lurking around, trying to listen in to our officers talking, so I said something about hanging you.  I had already guessed that she was here for you, and figured that would make her move, one way or another.  I'm sorry I got here too late to save those two redguard."

The catapult had stopped firing, but they could hear the clash of men and metal, and see the crackle of mage lightning in the sky near the wall.  "I've got to go," Rebec said, replacing her axe and reaching down to retrieve her rope.  "Stay inside with Kust.  I'll send someone back to check on you."

"Admiral, wait."  Runil stopped, feeling that he was trespassing a boundary.  The past was intruding on the present, his old life with his new.  Perhaps it was better to let them mix.  Trying to keep them apart had made him a fraud, and had not brought him the redemption he yearned for, not really.  Maybe there was another way.

"I've been thinking about what I said the day of your wedding, about how Arkay teaches us the value of life and not just the meaning of death.  Tell me where to go.  I want to defend Falkreath.  I can heal your men, and if it comes to the last, I'll fight for the town with all of my ability.  If it is blasphemy, then may Arkay forgive me."

"Shor's bones, it's about time.  There's a breach on the northern side of the east gate.  Go up there and keep the men in the shield wall healed.  Put those ward things on them, if you can, to throw off the Thalmor spells."

The priest nodded.  "Very good.  I am ready."

It's always nice when your writing gets reinforced by the canon after you come up with it.

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Boldir, Baldur, Rebec, Vaelen
Falkreath near the gates
Late Morning
 

The Grim Ones had been waiting by the gate sharpening weapons and rechecking their armor for the better part of the day, practicing formations and just keeping busy. The men were restless and eager for battle, as was Baldur, as he stood silently among them watching, waiting. Eager to spill the blood of the true enemy. The ones that he was born to kill. The cursed Thalmor. This would be the peak of his military career. The final paragraph before the end of his chapter in Falkreath. He thought back to when he first arrived to the hold. As always it looked like Skyrim's backside, always muddy rainy and foggy. Grim. He thought back to what would have been an embarrassing death for him and early career end. To fate reuniting him with his comrade in arms and dear friend, and how their friendship was strengthened even more now due to this war. This war.

He both cursed it and loved it at the same time. Without it, he'd never have met people like Reval, or Boldir and Rebec. This war gave him purpose, and despite so many good people like Jodun being killed, when he was on that battlefield, he never felt more alive. Except with his wife. This war did many things both good and bad for him, but like a scullery maid used to sate one's lust and found still laying in your bed in the morning, it had overstayed it's welcome. Baldur's hand was once again shaking, this time much more vigorously, and he wondered if he would be able to fight in the battle after all. A few minutes later, the unmistakable clash of stone on stone clanged throughout the area, causing the unsuspecting warriors to clench their ears in surprise as they recoiled from the wall. They soon recovered afterwards, and Baldur ordered them into formation. Baldur stood on the front lines with his bear helmet mounted upon his head in anticipation of his kin's role and almost eternal struggle of man versus mer being realized once more, albeit along with mer brethren by their side. Baldur drew his axe, his hand stilled, and his men drew their weapons in unison. Soon after, the catapult was shot once more, rock met rock, then rubble, dust and debris blasted away as the wall gave in and collapsed, signifying the battle had finally begun.

"At last, our foe has come! Show them how we earned our names! First in the front..."

"Last in the back!" said the men in unison.

"Get ready, Dunmer battlemages stay on the sides and give the Thalmor back everything they throw at us and then some! For Skyrim!"

Boldir, standing three men down from Baldur, gripped his war axe firmly as he waited for the first wave of Dominion soldiers to appear through the cloud of dust that the collapsed wall had thrown up. Instead of a wave of soldiers however, a wave of fireballs flew through, pushing aside the dust and colliding with their shields. Boldir pushed forward to catch the blow as one punched squarely into his own shield. He immediately felt the intense wave of heat when the volley of spells hit, but it was over in an instant. As he looked around, Boldir could see that nobody had fallen to the spells. When he looked back up to the massive pile of rubble, he could see the tall golden-armored soldiers closing in. He held his shield close, waiting for contact to be made.

Time felt as if slowed down when the Dominion ranks collided with the wall. Boldir, along with many of the Grim Ones alongside him, hurled his shield forward, knocking back the wave of attackers. The first man Boldir struck fell to the ground, only to immediately receive a war axe strike to his chest before Boldir pulled back behind his shield. Next.

Baldur's fire resistant cape made sure that the incoming fire spells deflected off of him effortlessly, shield or no shield. Before he could smile at the uselessness of the attack on he and his men, the initial wave of Thalmor soldiers fell upon them. It was just a small initial wave to test their defenses. Nothing they couldn't handle. The Thalmor men came crashing into them as expected, and his men eagerly cut them down, stabbing and hacking them after bashing them with their shields. Baldur was no different. An altmer in front of him had his chin over his shield snarling as he tried pushing down on Baldur, but he was no match for one trained solely in close combat. Baldur effortlessly bashed the mer back before walking forward and slamming his axe into the soldier's helm, denting it and fracturing the skull in the process. A result of Baldur's strength and better crafted equipment. The Thalmor soldier jerked around for a few seconds from the lightning enchantment, and fell back towards his comrades, quickly replaced by another soldier, soon to be dispatched. After a few more deaths, the Thalmor men routed back, and the men readied themselves for the next wave, this one sure to be more intense.

"Ready yourselves! There's more fun to come!"

Vaelen heard the sounds of battle from the inn. Quickly getting out of his chair, and dropping his book, Vaelen rushed to his room and equipped himself in his heavy mithril armor and buckled on his silver longsword and steel shortsword. Running out of the inn, he saw the Stormcloak troops up on the battlements and Dunmer battlemages, casting fireballs and conjuring daedra from the planes of Oblivion.

Running up to where he could see what looked like the commanding officer, Vaelen readied a shield spell for himself, and unsheathed his trusty silver longsword and readied an area of effect Shield spell for a good portion of the troops. Running up to the Nord who shouting orders, Vaelen said, "Hey Stormcloak, is there anything I can do to help?"

Baldur looked at the peculiar elf-nord, remembering him from earlier asking about leaving the town. Listening as he heard the sounds of Thalmor rushing towards them, Baldur quickly addressed the man before time would no longer permit a response.

"You again. We don't need soldiers on the front lines. Our shield wall will cover their advance. You're an elf. Do you know magic?"

The sound of battle was dim to Vaelen's ears. This is nothing compared to the bloodbath of the Great War. Smiling at the Nord, Vaelen replied, "Of course. I'm a Spellsword, not a Battlemage. I'm better at defensive magics. I can cast wards, and shields for a good number of troops. The name's Vaelen Wolf-Runner by the way. What's your name, boy?"

Baldur shot an icy glare at Vaelen at the "boy" comment, then remembered that despite his appearance and pompous attitude, he was not the enemy.

"My name is General Baldur Red-Snow. Or did you forget from the first time we spoke in the Jarl's Longhouse? Now unless you wish to be flogged once this is over with, you will remember to address me as General. Now go make yourself useful, and stand with my battlemages on the side and offer support. Move from the front lines, lest you wish to catch an ice spike up the ass. Now!"

Vaelen at first was about to let an icy retort slip out of his mouth, but all his years in the Legion taught him one thing, obey your commanding officers. Vaelen replied quickly, "Sorry for that comment General. I will get on it, sir!" 

Turning around, Vaelen ran towards the Dunmer Battlemages. As he did so, out of the corner of his eye, Vaelen saw an Ice Spike heading straight towards him. Thinking fast, Vaelen quickly casted a Ward spell, and the Ice Spike dissipated on impact. 

After the close call, Vaelen reached the group of Dunmer Battlemages. Addressing them all as a whole, Vaelen shouted, "I'm going to be supporting your ash-asses! Now, lets show these Thalmor, what true magic is like!" 

Receiving a loud "Hooorah!" The battlemages commenced firing Destruction spells. As they did so, Vaelen sheathed his silver longsword and with both hands, casted a large area of effect, Ward. Surrounding the whole group, the battle raged on.

The Altmer priest Runil came running up towards the gate and began casting ward spells on the shield wall fighters, though sparing his magicka since the first assault had already been repelled.

Meanwhile archers were firing from the walls into the Thalmor ranks they could see.  The longbowmen had been instructed to act like shortbowmen, not to fire over the heads of the attackers, but to aim their shots and fire only at Dominion troops.

Rebec ran up through the ranks, pulling her crossbow off her back as she went.  In the press of bodies at the shield wall she picked out Baldur's bear helmet and Boldir's big frame.  Satisfied that they were well and fighting, she scaled the nearest battlement where she could still keep an eye on them, and found Suri where she'd said she'd be.  There was a lull in the battle while the elves prepared the next wave.

"Ready?"

"I was born ready, auntie," the redguard girl replied with a smile.

Feeling the magic of Runil's spell reverberate through his body as the ward was placed over them caused Baldur's spine to tingle. Seeing that the wards were placed, Baldur put his shield on his back and pulled out his second axe.

Time to cut loose.

Baldur smacked his axes together, causing the enchantment to react, the lightning cackling as if excited while flowing through his weapons. Afterwards, he let out his nordic battle cry along with his men as the Thalmor poured in with greater numbers, the sound deafening, and causing the mer to hesitate slightly as they collided with the Grim Ones. When the mer came in, fireballs, ice spikes and lightning started flying through the air, luckily being mostly held off by the wards. The sound of magic being cast along with metal hitting metal filled the atmosphere, the hatred from both sides reflected in the darkening skies as a thunderstorm soon rolled in.

Baldur was in his element. Another Thalmor soldier moved towards him, this one also with a sword and shield charging straight in Baldur's direction. Baldur, wide eyed and teeth gritting, launched his boot into the shield, making the mer step back. After this, Baldur ran forward, and pivoted into a sideways spin to the right, sending his axe slamming into the altmer's shield. Baldur followed up with a series of fast and powerful attacks on his shield continuously, never letting up. The Thalmor deflected his blows, but his strength coupled with the shock damage began to wear on him. He was forced to drop his shield, and he tried to heal himself, but Baldur's weapons had drained his magicka. Baldur ran forward and booted the soldier in his chest, sending him crashing down to the ground. Baldur stepped forward and kicked off his helmet, and sent his boot crashing down into the soldier's face. Two more Thalmor soldiers came running towards him with their swords held horizontally, looking to decapitate him. Baldur let out another savage cry and threw his axes at their faces simultaneously. The soldiers saw the weapons coming too late, and before they could let out a shriek of surprise, the axes had found their mark, and sent the mer crashing down on their backs. The bodies slid their way next to Baldur who yanked out his axes and taunted the next oncoming soldiers with another yell while his tongue stuck out towards his chin.

Ha! Just like at Rommulas.

Another elf came towards him. Then another, and another. Relentless in their assaults, but the Nord's hatred and resolve made them immovable. Baldur spun around and knocked a soldier's shield aside and slashed his neck after doing so. He kicked the body towards the other oncoming elf who quickly pushed it aside and came straight for him swinging his blade. Baldur ducked under the sword slash to his cranium and tripped the Thalmor with his left axe while Baldur brought his right axe down on his neck, decapitating him. The General then kicked the head which smacked straight into the next oncoming mer's face, which sent him flying on his back, and the soldier ended up stomped and stampeded by his own charging forces.

"Hahahaha! Oh I have to write about that one later!"

As more enemies poured in through the wall, Baldur fell back as did the other men and formed a tighter formation to hold back the assault.

As the next charge came, Rebec and Suri put into motion the pattern they had practiced, the admiral firing off her crossbow bolt and then ducking under the redguard's shield to reload.  The crossbow's advantages were force and accuracy, so Rebec chose her targets carefully.  Seeing Baldur charge out towards the Mer, she chose those near him.

Her targets would stagger from the force of the bolt, but even as they reached for it, the poison tip would begin its work.  Elves stumbled from the slow and paralysis effects, and found their magicka draining away.  Suri and the Dunmer alchemists had had enough time to make a good bit of poisons- Falkreath yielding up its nightshade flowers to extend the mixtures- so every third archer on the wall was firing the deadly arrows.

Baldur was about to go for his next target, when a bolt came flying down out of nowhere, killing a mer to his left who was about to charge him diagonally. Baldur looking up to see who had put in the shot saw Rebec and Suri covering him from the walls. Baldur raised his axes while looking at them and let out his battle cry in recognition of their efforts.

Briefly Rebec lifted her crossbow to answer her husband's salute, but then she got back to firing.  After a few more bolts Suri shouted at her over the din.  "Their archers aren't firing anymore, Aunt Rebec, they're going for a full melee charge."

Even though the young woman stopped short of saying what she really meant, Rebec understood.  Suri was tired of covering her.  She had not been in the thick of battle once yet.  The admiral thought about her brother, about how devastated he would be if his daughter didn't return to Hammerfell with him, but in her own youth she hated such smothering, and she'd never have learned without blooding her axe.

If Suri was going down below the walls, however, Rebec wasn't letting her go alone.  "Alright then.  Let's go, we'll join the next charge.  Stick close to me."  That's how her crew fought, and that's how Baldur and Boldir fought, watching each other's backs.  Rebec found that her heart was thrumming, and not only from fear.  This was the fight they'd been waiting for.

Breaking from the body of Battlemages, Vaelen concentrated his focus on cutting down as many Thalmor mages as possible. While charging into the enemy's side of the battlefield, Vaelan casted a Resist Magic spell on himself and braced for combat. 

The first Mage he encountered, was slinging high velocity fireball towards some Stormcloaks near the gates of Falkreath. Running up on the Mage, Vaelen performed a somersault and when he landed on his feet, he brought his blade in a upward angle and cleanly cleaved the Mage's head in two. With the sound of battle ringing in his ears, Vaelen began searching for more Mages to cut down.

When the shield wall disbanded, Boldir sheathed his war axe and shield in favor of his trusty battle axe. Letting out a battle cry of his own, he charged into the fray. To Boldir, no one of his enemies was distinguishable from the next. They were all just tall golden armored Elves in his eyes. As he charged, he pierced the first Elf he reached with the end of his axe, pushing the soldier back with it and and slamming him to the ground. He kicked back an attacking Elf to his right as he pulled the axe out and spun it around, cleaving the staggered Elf's head off with ease. Boldir cut and cleaved his way forward through the enemy ranks, perhaps farther than he should've, as he soon noticed that he was surrounded from the front and sides by gold. Still in fighting mode, Boldir didn't worry too much about it. He swung his axe around and sunk it into the closest Elf's collar, he ducked a blow from the left, and brought the still sunken axe's handle up to deflect one from the right. Suddenly, the left attacker dropped to the ground with a crossbow bolt in his neck. While he fell, Boldir pulled his axe out of the first corpse and used the momentum to smash the hilt into the right one's face, likely breaking his nose and some teeth. It was enough to send the man to the ground. Boldir stomped on his head through the helmet opening like he had done at Romulus. He stood ready for the next attacker, his foot still deep in Thalmor brains.

Boldir, still in the thick of the enemy wave, didn't have time to fall back closer to the main force of his allies, as another two Elves were upon him immediately. One however, fell to a crossbow bolt. The other instinctively raised his shield to protect himself from arrows and was virtually defenseless to the crushing downward blow Boldir delivered with his axe, which immediately broke the man's sword in two and cleaved off his right arm. As the one-armed Elf dropped, Boldir slammed into another to his right that was too close to get a good axe swing on. The surprised Elf fell to the ground, only to be stabbed by a fellow Necro Nord.

Good to see others catching up. It was getting crowded up here.

Boldir turned and brought his axe into a passing Dominion soldier's back. As he pulled it out, he used the hook of his blade to catch a strike aimed for his torso, locking their weapons together. Boldir smiled under his visor and forcefully bashed his helmet into the unsuspecting Elf's face with a hard crunch. As he reared back, he saw a terrified, pained and now bloodied expression looking at him. He bashed again, this time, he couldn't see the Elf's eyes through all the blood covering his face. Boldir butted him one more time for good measure, and the Elf fell backwards to the ground. Boldir roared. This was what he lived for. From his father, to his officers, to Baldur. Everyone he knew had played a part in shaping him into a natural killer. It was all he'd known in his life. And it was times like this, that he couldn't help but enjoy it.

"That is why they call me Iron-Brow! You hear me?! Boldir Iron-Brow!"

He purposefully caught another soldier's sword again, and gave this Elf the same treatment as the last, brutally maiming his face beyond any possible recognition. Boldir's smile widened under his visor, which was now red thanks to being completely covered in Mer blood. Boldir noticed the men around and behind him regrouping and slowly backed up himself, carefully making sure that no Elf would hit him from behind. Boldir knew it was foolish to try to stray too far from the main force, and in his bloodlust, he'd already gotten farther than he liked. He knew he'd feel guilty for leaving Baldur later, but there was no time for that now. As he backed up along with some other Necro Nords, several more of the charging Elves fell to arrow and crossbow bolt strikes, and even the occasional fireball. He finally made his way back to where the main force had regrouped. He didn't see Baldur though. It wasn't long however, before he saw two electrically convulsing elves with wide open necks topple on top of each other, and his friend stood behind with both axes already preparing for his next strike.

"Feels good to finally get another shot at these guys eh Baldur?" He shouted to his friend over the sounds of battle.

Baldur looking away from his last kills to see Boldir let out a grin at the sight of his bloodied helm. Baldur knew his style and knew what time it was. Baldur decided to fight his way through the elves to make his way to Boldir.

"You're damn right it does! Hey, I'm gonna try and fight my way to you!"

Before Baldur could make the attempt, his ears started ringing intensely from the sound of a fireball hitting the ground near him. The flames licked at him but did nothing due to his enchantments, but he could tell the caster was very powerful all the same. Baldur looked to his left to see a Justiciar forming magicka in his hands and getting ready for another cast. Baldur backed up, thinking the wards would be more than enough to protect the men from the spells. The Justiciar however was no novice. The mer started gathering fire in both hands this time. The magic in his grasp was so intense, that the flame could be felt all the way from where Baldur was. It was so intense that the orange glow actually lit up the battlefield in the darkness of the storm. The Justiciar ordered the men nearby to cover him with their shields to protect him from arrow fire while he was busy with the spell. When the Justiciar was done charging his spell, he dropped his left hand and held the power completely in his right. Walking slowly forward with a smile on his face while his soldiers protected his advance from projectiles with their shields raised, the Justiciar finally lifted his hands and pointed it towards Baldur.

"We'll see if you're "unkindled" after this! Behold the future! Behold the Thalmor!"

The Justiciar's magic sent a small bolt flying from his hand, and went hurling towards the Grim Ones quickly after it was cast. Baldur had pulled out his shield when the mage started charging his spell, but he started to laugh when he saw the tiny bolt flying towards them. He instinctively raised his shield however just in case. It was a good thing he did. When the bolt finally collided with his shield, it sent a wall of flames over  the area that would have cooked a large portion of the men if it were not for the wards. The spell's fire shot up in the air as it collided with the ward, and a loud crack sound like broken glass was heard by all as the spell broke all the wards protecting the front walls. Spells started flying at a greater rate now, the elves realizing that the wards were down. The justiciar fell back behind enemy lines, and the glow came back, as did the intense heat once more.

A soldier next to Baldur was staring in awe at the spectacle, and caught an ice spike in his neck, dying quickly after gurgling from the blood in his throat. Baldur knew that he couldn't let that mer cast another spell at his wall. An idea started forming in his head after thinking back to a story that Suri had told him of one of their legendary heroes. Baldur smiled, remembering how entertaining the tale was, and decided he would mimic that hero, and put the tale to the test.

"You, soldier! Walk in front of me here and crouch. Put your shield down in front of me. Do it quickly!"

The soldier complied, and as Baldur had said, crouched and laid his shield on the dirt, pointing to Baldur. Baldur pulled out his second axe again, backed up and waited for the line of altmer to move up on them to make his move. Once they had moved forward, Baldur dashed towards them, and jumped over the soldiers' heads, using the shield as a stepping stone to do so. The elves watching seemed to look at him in slow motion as the barbarian General flew over them with a savage cry, cape flowing through the air and axes drawn, ready to slay and maul. Baldur to the surprise of the Justiciar had launched himself directly towards to mage, and had decapitated two nearby soldiers as he came falling down. Baldur fell into a crouch as he landed, and charged his way to the elf. Boldir seeing his friend move behind enemy lines fought his way through to him, close lining elven soldiers running towards him as he did with his axe.

The Justiciar after downing a rather large magicka potion had finally charged his spell and lifted his hands to cast his hellfire at the Unkindled. But he was too late. The soldiers nearby had scurried off when they realized the mage was about to cast the spell so close to them. Boldir had killed a few of them mercilessly on his way to Baldur as they ran. Baldur wrapped his left arm around the Justiciar's extended right arm with the spell in it, and pushed up, which forced the elf's arm to bend in the opposite direction in the joint where his elbow was. The crunch startled the elf more than the pain, but he cried out in the horror of both all the same. The Thalmor started moving back on Baldur when they saw this, but Baldur acted quickly. Raising his axe, Baldur brought it down, and cut the mer's arm off, leaving his upper arm tucked under his armpit, the spell still gathered in the hand due to the elf still being alive when the arm was removed. Baldur booted the mer away, and he fell to the ground as Baldur sheathed his right axe, drew the elf's arm like a mini staff from his armpit, sheathed his left axe, then drew his shield.

"I'm gonna make some fire. Cover yourself with my cape when I do."

Boldir seeing the elf's glowing hands nodded, and moved next to Baldur standing back to back.

The mer were coming at him in all directions, blades raised, ready to avenge their fallen CO. With Boldir at his back ready to hold off the assailants, Baldur raised the hand in the air showing the spell was still active, and thrust the hand forward pointing to the ground causing the bolt to be cast from the hand. Baldur simultaneously crouched, as did Boldir, and raised his shield to cover his face from the flame. Boldir covered his body with Baldur's cape. Fire erupted across the entire area. His shield sent the flames spraying, creating an envelope around him and Boldir in an oval as it collided with his shield, keeping them safe. The smell of charred meat filled his nostrils, and the cries of cooking mer filled his ears. Both were quite pleasing to him. The alarming drop of Thalmor soldiers nearby caused the Grim Ones to push forward, causing the elves to route back once more. Baldur wiped a flame that was burning his cape on his shoulder off before it did too much damage, and walked back to the line with Boldir by his side.

Cyrus, the Redguard hero. Thank you.

"Well, I think I held true to my name. Get ready for the next wave, brother."

Rebec and Suri joined the forces to the side of the Grim Ones for the next assault, the redguard letting out a Yokudan war cry and Rebec echoing others shouting "FOR SKYRIM!"  Despite their shouts, they moved out in an orderly phalanx, the admiral surrounded mostly by redguard. The Thalmor came pouring in with even greater numbers now, trying to force their way around the shield wall by concentrating their numbers to their sides, which caused the Grim Ones to be forced back. The Stormcloak and Redguard forces greeted the groups who made it past, and made sure that they did not get too far from the gates. The Grim Ones stayed by the wall, killing and holding back as many as they could, leaving the rest to the main force of their soldiers.

Rebec shot off a crossbow bolt at the first Mer that charged her, then stowed the bow on her back and drew her axes to finish him off.  Blooded and shouting now, she settled into a rhythm of hewing attacks, dodging the elves' spells and meeting their quickness with her own.  Suri had stopped shouting, and once Rebec looked over her shoulder, worried about her niece, but she saw the girl methodically cutting down Mer as the phalanx moved forward, so concentrated that silence was called for.

They had to fall back as new waves came at them, but gradually and more or less instinctively Rebec steered them towards where she saw Baldur fighting.  Mostly they met Dominion regulars, whose spells were more easily shrugged off and who fought well but not with the ferocity of the defenders.

Suddenly a justiciar appeared before them, his hands glowing blue with magicka.  Seeing Ra Gada, the mage let loose a spray of ice into the group.   There were cries of pain and some of the redguard fell back, but as the justiciar prepared to cast again he saw one figure in the middle who had taken the brunt of the spell and now stood like a column of ice.  The mage smiled a little at the sight of a dead-frozen enemy and started to move forward, until the ice statue moved and opened its eyes.  A small inscription in the shape of a hawk glowed blue at the figure's neck.

Rebec smiled and brought up her axes, ice shards falling away as she did so.  "Wrong choice," she advised the justiciar.  There would be no chance for him to learn from his mistake.

Cutting down five Thalmor mages, Vaelen knew it was a bad idea to stay on the enemy's side of the battlefield for too long. Turning around and running back to where the General and his Second-in-Command was, Vaelen was shield slammed by a Thalmor soldier. Getting up quickly, Vaelen switched to his Frost spell and shot the icy bolt straight at the Thalmor.

The soldier blocked the spell, but the impact of the Ice spike, staggered the Mer for a couple of seconds. This was Vaelen needed. Running up on top of the Thalmor, Vaelen plunged his sword straight into the soldier's neck. Vaelen quickly pulled the blade out of the Thalmor's neck and decapitated him right on the spot.

Getting nearer to General Red-Snow, Vaelen could see the General and his comrades, valiantly holding off the advancing tide of golden armor. I'll give the General some help. Sheathing his sword, Vaelen took both hands and casted a stream of intense flames at a group of Thalmor soldiers near where the General was. Hearing the screams of Thalmor and the smell of burning flesh, Vaelen laughed out loud and shouted, "Burn! Hahaha, burn!"

Cancelling the spell, Vaelen walked up to a burning Thalmor soldier and decapitated him. Picking up a throwing axe, Vaelen swiftly threw the axe straight at the head of a Thalmor Justiciar. Landing with a resounding thud, Vaelen laughed and waited for more enemies to come.

As Boldir pulled his axe from an Elf's skull, he turned just in time to see a torrent of flames leaping his way. He quickly dropped to a knees, folded his arms, and turned away the flames, letting the shield on his back absorb what it could. Still, he could smell that some of the fur under his armor had been singed. When the flames stopped, Boldir turned towards the assailant, only to see that four Thalmor soldiers had been burned to death in the attack, and that it was what appeared to be a civilian Altmer casting the spell. Although this civilian was wearing his own armor made of some sort of white shining metal. Before Boldir could get a word out, he was interrupted by another Thalmor soldier swinging down on him. Boldir easily blocked his attack and jammed the hilt of his battle axe into the Elf's nether regions so hard it knocked him to the ground. The soldier was in enough pain from the blow that he didn't even do anything about the large axe that came down into his gut. Boldir decided to head back toward Baldur who was undoubtedly still killing scores of the enemy himself.

Boldir got a moment's rest from the fighting as he made his way back through the Stormcloak ranks, to the other side of their numbers, where the fighting began to pick up again. He pushed back out into the fray. There he spotted Rebec accompanied by a troop of Redguards, cutting a swath through the Thalmor forces towards Baldur. Boldir pushed her way, opting to assist his friend in reaching her husband.

"Ohoho, you like that, don't you!  Tell your mother in Oblivion the Nords send their regards!"

With such taunts Rebec was plowing through elves, held back only by the redguards' more methodical fighting style.  Not that she could complain, since they were effective enough, and their little group had made it mostly intact into the hottest part of the battlefield.  Rebec herself had a few tears in her chainmail tunic, and an arrow that had so lodged itself in the rings and wool padding underneath that she had to break the end off.  Suri had some splotches on her face from frost burns, but had angrily waved off her aunt's concern.

Rebec had just glimpsed Boldir through the fray when she stopped in her tracks at the sound of an unnatural howl.  The Mer ahead of her heard it, too, and started to cheer, thinking one of their own had performed a great summon.  Then from the back of their ranks Rebec could see a body being tossed into the air as if it were a straw doll.  The armor was gold, definitely elven.  She knew that howl, remembering it now from back at Fort Neugrad.  Witchie!

And now the Mer knew that they had enemies behind them, too.  The admiral wasn't about to let them adjust to the idea.  She hacked at the neck of an elf who had turned her back, and the head lolled half off its mooring as the body slumped.

"Boldir!" she shouted, unsure if the captain would hear her.  "The imperials are attacking!"  With the imperials pressing in behind them, Rebec was afraid the elves would rout from sheer panic and overwhelm the town.  It seemed to her the moment of greatest danger for the Stormcloaks.

The Thalmor while getting slaughtered near the front lines had still managed to push back simply by their numbers, but the Stormcloaks and Redguards were helping to keep them at bay. Baldur had decided not to use the militia since the Imperials were helping, but he had them on standby regardless just in case. He and his men were pushed even further back now that the Imperials were attacking from behind. And after Baldur heard the cries of what he could only imagine to be a werewolf, despite all of his good senses saying that was unlikely, the Thalmor were pushing them back even harder. Not from bravery or ferocity. But fear.

"Keep fighting! They'll have to retreat soon!"

Where is Boldir? And where did Rebec go?

Boldir had heard his name being shouted by Rebec, but whatever else she said was lost to the roaring sound of another fireball crashing dead into his chest; sending him flying to the ground. Boldir quickly patted out the small flames that had sprung up over him before diving out of the way of another ball of fire. He saw a robed Thalmor mage standing at the distance, clearly targeting him specifically. Boldir quickly rose to his feet, preparing to dodge another. He never had to, as the end of a Redguard's scimitar appeared, protruding from the mage's torso. Boldir continued towards Rebec, cutting down the Elves he encountered on the way. He heard a roar. It was the fourth of its kind he'd noticed throughout the battle. He knew it to be the same as the ones he'd heard months ago in Falkreath. He knew it was a of summon of Witchie's. Boldir noticed that the Thalmor soldiers were no longer attacking in orderly waves. Instead, they were pouring through the wall in a continuous golden stream of soldiers. He'd seen pushes like this. The Legion soldiers had done the same in the siege of Markarth when they'd run out of food and had been forced to push into the waiting Stormcloak forces.

He finally reached Rebec, who was currently in the middle of cutting down a Thalmor soldier with those axes of hers. For a sailor, Rebec fought with the best of them, and her speed was impressive as she moved from target to target. Boldir himself charged just past her to take on a few more of the Elves. As he did, he yelled at her, which hurt his throat, but was manageable by now. "You called?"

"GRARGHHH!"  came Rebec's reply, though it was directed at the Dominion soldier she was currently fighting.  The Kyne-damned elf wouldn't stay down, but kept healing herself and trying to get back up.  Rebec finally resorted to kicking the elf's helmet off and stomping on her head until all that was left was a bloody pulp.  The admiral put an axe in her forehead just to be sure.

Standing, blood dripping from both her axes and from her face, her surcoat splattered with it, Rebec glared at Boldir as if he was the next enemy.  It was only battle frenzy, though, and her expression soon changed.  "The imps are attacking!" she repeated.  "That's Witchie's wolf back there.  The elves could rout at any minute.  Charge the town or try to flee."  Both things would be unacceptable.  Every Thalmor soldier on this field had to die, preferably before they could do more harm to the civilians.

"Where's Baldur?!"

"He's right over there, Aunt Rebec," Suri answered, coming up alongside and pointing through the smoke with her cutlass.  She had a gash on her shield arm and was trembling from exhaustion.

"Come on."  Rebec grabbed Suri's tunic to steady her, and gestured to Boldir to indicate they were going to make their way to the general and regroup.  It was impossible to tell if they were winning or just treading water.  There were no end to golden-armored elves.  The imperial attack had to make a difference sooner or later.  Rebec hoped it was sooner.

The Thalmor were really pushing in with force now, but all that meant for them was more dead elves. The Stormcloak forces were organized while the Thalmor masses were not. One final push from them and Baldur was sure that they would rout back. It's all they could do. If not, he would simply call in the militia. That is what they were for afterall. They would make sure the Thalmor would not overwhelm the town.

Baldur could no longer remember how many soldiers he killed, but he was starting to get worried for his men. If the battle continued on like this, some men could start routing. Especially in areas where spells were being slung. They didn't prepare for that in practice. He hoped his Grim Ones would remember this was a real battle, and retreating against orders would be answered with death by one of their own. Baldur didn't allow himself to think on it, instead going back to focus on his kill, which was an elf with an elven great sword. The Thalmor thrust the blade towards him, and he merely sidestepped it while spinning and decapitating the soldier all in one move. Looking behind him to see if Boldir finally came back, he could see Rebec, Suri and Boldir forcing their way to his position.

Baldur called out to them once they were finally near enough.

"Glad to see you finally made it to the main event! Come on, we need to make them retreat!"

Rebec lifted her axe in salute as Baldur called to her, then nodded, understanding that they needed to make a hard push.  Sheathing one axe, she drew her flask and ordered Suri to drink from it.  It was stamina potion, not just water.  Suri had made the potion herself.  When they had both drunk, the admiral switched the flask for her axe again and took a deep breath, in her mind calling on the Nord gods to show up.  They were fighting for all of Tamriel now.


The Ending of the Words is REBBABO

It's always nice when your writing gets reinforced by the canon after you come up with it.

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Lorgar Grim-maw, Gracchus Ceno, Pilus, Edaurd, and Velan. Falkreath Forest, night,


Darkness cloaked Lorgar Grim-maw, as he stalked the gold clad dominion soldiers in the branches of a large tree, rain dripping off his hood, and the sound of thunder in the distance. Unlike the mercenaries, Lorgar had perfect night vision, and could easily spot the exhausted dominion troopers who where fleeing from Falkreath.

Looks like our plan payed off.

He turned towards his comrade, Tullius. Before making a hand signal, in the shape of a wolf, Tullius was utterly stunned, and couldn't tell if Lorgar was joking or not. Lorgar responded with a slight nod. While Lorgar couldn't see his face under his balaclava, Tullius was obviously surprised, before giving him a thumbs up.  Lorgar breathed in a large mouthful of air, , and quickly and quietly jumped down onto an unsuspecting dominion officer, he landed with a crash, in seconds Lorgar had dug his fangs into the officer's unguarded neck,  while wrapping his arms around his mouth to muffle his screams.

"The great wolf is back..." As Lorgar said those words, he threw off his dark cloak in a single stroke, revealing himself. The rain dropped down on his exposed trench coat, Lorgar never felt as alive as he did at this moment.

Lorgar tasted delicious blood. Lorgar's vision started to blur red, and his breathing was speeding up, he was excited. He quietly laid the body of the officer in a pile of bushes, before getting into a crouched position and drawing one of his daggers. He quickly scanned the area for potential targets, and spotted a hooded dominion justicar, she was surrounded by 3 other gold-clad soldiers. Lorgar smiled, revealing his fang-like teeth. The rain also helped, it was a steady beat, and it muffled Lorgar's footsteps with its splashing. He swiftly approached the group, and cut down the first three in 5 seconds, landing 8 daggers slashes in the throat, legs, and the back of the three soldiers. Before the justicar could bring her hands up to summon a spell, Lorgar had pounced onto the officer, pinning her to the ground, Lorgar had ripped out her throat in an instant with his fangs, before moving onto another target. After a few more isolated kills, Lorgar howled a blood curdling sound, signalling the main attack. Before any of the elves could react to the howling noise, dozens of arrows rained from the tree tops, killing dozens of soldiers in an instant. The rain of arrows continued the blood fest, until battle crys rained down from the trees.

"FOR THE DRAGON, FOR WHITERUN, FOR THE EMPIRE!!!!"

And with that, hundreds of soldiers dropped down from there hiding places to engage the scattered and unorganized elves.

 

*******


Several miles away, Gracchus watched as his men clashed with the Altmer from behind, causing them to push forward in an unorganized mass. The remaining Thalmor forces had fled when they realized their comrades had been betrayed, and Gracchus let them, knowing that Tullius and Lorgar had a surprise waiting for them.

Turning his attention back to the battle, Gracchus saw the giant werewolf like creature the Synod conjured finally fall in a hail of firebolts and arrows, with the blood of Dominion soldiers dripping from its jaws. 

Time to finish this, Gracchus thought.

He turned, still seated on his horse, and said to his guards,

"We are going to lead the charge into their ranks, and finish this up. The main force has already retreated, so lets mop this up and be done."

The guards nodded, and Gracchus gripped the reins tightly, before charging at the group of shiny gold caught between two seas of blue and red. Lil Ceno nieghed loudly, sensing what was to happen. Gracchus burst into the ranks of gold, several Altmer soldiers stumbling backward to get out of the way of the large gray horse.

Gracchus pulled on the reins, Lil Ceno rearing up into the air, his metal shoed hooves lashing out at the enemy soldiers. One landed with a crack, splitting open both the skull and helmet of an Altmer swordsman. Gracchus quickly dismounted amidst the enemies confusion, and sent the dapple gray horse away with a rough pat on the side. His men formed around him, spurred onward by the arrival of their leader.

Gracchus shouted over the clanging of metal.

"Lets finish this men, for Cyrodiil, for Skyrim, and for all of mankind!"
 

*******
 

Pilus was already in the thick of the fighting, leading his battlemage group in an attempt to take out the Thalmor mages. He was currently pitted in a one on one match with a Justicar, a tall bearded Altmer who apparently specialized in lightning magic. Pilus was constantly moving, using his wards to keep the magic draining bolts from contacting him. 

If I can get in close enough, I can best him hand to hand. I just need an ample distraction...

Pilus' wish was granted, as Gracchus' charge briefly distracted the Justicar. The Thalmor mage turned to dodge the horse's hooves, and Pilus sent the ice spike aimed for his chest. It met with a sound of splintering ice, the spike cracking off leaving half of it in his chest.

Pilus didn't have long to savor the victory, as several Dominion troops convened to cover their fallen commander. He moved back to join the surging line of Imperial soldiers, and drew his short sword. The Thalmor troops, now completely enveloped on both sides, began madly rushing the nearest opponent, more out I fear than tactics. 

Pilus caught an axe swing as it came down, partying it and shoving the soldier backwards. The good clad Bosmer lashed out, swinging at every which angle he could, completely scared for his life. Pilus blocked a blow aimed at his head, and brought his sword down in an arc the sliced open the Bosmer's stomach, unleashing a torrent of blood on the ground.

The fallen enemy was soon replaced by another, an Altmer spellsword whose fireball nearly hit Pilus. Pilus threw up a ward, absorbing the next spell, before sending a stream of frost at his foe. The Altmer threw up his own ward, blocking the icy attack. Pilus anticipated this, and stabbed at the exposed abdomen of the spellsword, his blade plunging into the ribs. 

Pulling out the sword, Pilus grunted and prepared for the next attack from the enemy, ready for whatever they could throw at him

 

*******************

 

With the rain on there backs, and the thunder in there ears, the sons of Whiterun, yelled out there unit's motto, which caused a smile to appear under Lorgar's hood, and his vision of red, to return to normal. 

"WE ARE THE CLAWS OF THE EMPIRE- 

Lorgar finished it under his breath,

"Hear us howl...

That was all the motivation Lorgar needed, yelling out, he rallied over forty soldiers from under the tree tops,  before taking out his daggers, and throwing them to the ground. In there place he drew a massive two-handed Greatsword clad in skaalish runes, and charged at a mass of over a hundred exhausted and de-moralized elven soldiers. It didn't matter at all that he was a simple Prefect, all of them followed the Darkened Archer without question. All of the soldiers behind boldly charged with the legionary. Soon, the soldiers where seeing who could get to the shattered elven line first, the one overtaking all of them was a huge Nord clad in Black nordic plate, and was carrying two two-handed axes, he was running at surprisingly fast speeds . It was the colonel, Balguraf the greater. He caught up to Lorgar.  The two nords nodded to each other, and as the group of soldiers collided into the elven line, both Lorgar and Balgruaf unleashed warcrys, Lorgar's was a bloodcurdling wolf-howl, while Balgurafs was the scream of a Berserker. This caused the front line of already horrified elven soldiers to drop there make-shift shield wall, and try to escape the advancing force of soldiers. This was a mistake. Balguraf brought down his two axes upon two side to side dominion soldiers, splitting there heads open, regardless of the helmets they wore. Lorgar swung his two-handed sword sideways, catching a soldier in the back, before bringing it up and slicing another one almost in half. The other forty soldiers charged in, it didn't matter that they were outnumbered two to one, they would win, they had to. This battle, soon turned into a slaughter, as the highly trained mercenaries and legionaries butchered the already exhausted elven force. Lorgar was in the thick of things, killing countless soldiers with his skaalish greatsword, he was soon drenched in blood, 

 

*******

Gracchus was in the midst of the fighting, his men on either side of him engaged with Thalmor soldiers. The fighting was thick and intense. Men from all three factions could be heard yelling encouragements to their brothers in arms, and hurling insults at the enemy. The Thalmor were now completely enveloped by both sides, but several mages in the center of their circle of gold kept them in the fight. 

These mages, from why Gracchus could see, were being led by a Justicar, whom was targeting the Stormcloaks in particular. Just as he was about to charge up another explosive firebolt, a large Nord in a cape leapt over the Thalmor in front of him, and sliced off the arm of the mage. The Thalmor surrounded him, but the Nord used the severed arm to cast the still charged spell as he ducked underneath his shield.

Gracchus realized was about to happen, and used both hands to throw up a ward, blocking the oncoming explosion from him and his men. The Thalmor in front of him instantly burst into flames, but the mage fire made short work of him and he was soon a pile of charred bones. The Nord he now realized was General Red-Snow, and a smirk crossed his face.

Good move. It seems Nords aren't as dumb and barbaric as some would have us believe. 

A hand landed on Gracchus' shoulder, and he turned to find Pilus standing there with a grin of his own.

"The Red-Snow is ballsy, I'll give 'em that. I guess we has better press on and finish this," Pilus said.

"Ay, can't let the Cloaks have all the fun," Gracchus replied.

The two friends, now united on the battlefield, pressed the attack onward, their swords swinging and spells flying as they waded through the enemy.

Pilus sidestepped a mace aimed for his ribs. He swung his sword downward at the hand holding the bludgeon, severing it off cleanly as a bloodcurdling scream emanated from the Altmer that was now handless. Pilus sent a quick stab through his chest, silencing him for good.

Gracchus was nearby, using a ward to block the spells from an enemy spellsword. The fire hit the magical barrier and spread out. Gracchus could feel the heat, it's intensity growing as the soldier moved closer. He heard a grunt, and saw the tip of the blade over the ward as it came down in an arc aimed for his head. He dropped the barrier, and sidestepped so it only glanced off his shoulder.

That'll leave a nasty bruise, he thought. 

Instead of returning a spell at the caster, Gracchus laid down a wall of flames to his enemy's left, and then pressed forward. He swung at the Altmer's ribs, was blocked, swung again at his leg, all while slowly working to his left, backing the spellsword to the wall of flames. One swinging blow aimed at the shoulder hit its mark, sending the Thalmor stumbling backwards to avoid a second. It worked exactly as Gracchus planned, the flames catching the underclothes of the soldier on fire, who fell to the ground engulfed and was soon killed with a quick severing of his head by the sword of Gracchus.

 

-~-~~-~-~~
 

Eduard watched as the Imperials locked up with the Dominion force. It was on, and Eduard couldn't be happier.

He began to fire alongside the others. His first five arrows all found their marks, lodging themselves perfectly in his Elven targets. The sixth one would've have found its mark as well, but the soldier put up a ward in a heads up defensive move. Then it was time for the return fire from the fast retreating Dominion forces.

He had always enjoyed being part of a group of archers. The whole thing was a beautiful spectacle. The chaotic, but mysteriously rhythmic way that he dodged incoming ice spikes. The satisfaction of another perfectly executed shot from his bow hitting its mark. This was where Eduard found peace.

Amongst the noise, all he heard was the whiz of the arrows flying from his bow, and the occasional disappointing thud of an ice spike hitting a comrade.

Eduard was in the zone, to say the least. With every shot that landed, he became more confident, as his worries, problems, and thoughts were consumed by the powerful rhythm of battle.
 

*****

Velan was in his element. On the frontlines, supporting his fellow legionnaire.

He blocked an incoming blow from a soldier, and then used his freakish strength to not only overwhelm and kill his enemy, but the display also froze another soldier in his tracks, where one of Velan's comrades would take advantage, slicing through the stunned elf's throat.

Velan must have been temporarily distracted as well, because he barely saw the elven mace come towards him. It glanced off him.

You shouldn't have missed.

He recovered from the poorly located blow, and swept the soldier off his feet. He followed that up by crushing his opponents skull under his foot.

"Velan! Duck!"

Without hesitating, Velan ducked.

As he did, a sword swung right over top of him, before meeting another sword.

The other sword belonged to Gergio, the friend he had made earlier.

His new friend quickly parried the blows of the Dominion soldier, and used a quick leg sweep to distract his enemy. Using the distraction, he spun back up and thrust his sword into the elf, fatally wounding him.

"Not bad, friend! Let's see what I can do!"

Velan intercepted a soldier running towards Gergio, taking the Altmer down with a thunderous shoulder. The Thalmor surprisingly kept his cool and fended off Velan's first blow. However, the elf made a mistake when he tried to get up while firing an ice spike. Velan spun through the magic, and cleaved through the soldiers jaw, and then through his neck.

"There!"

"Nice," Gergio replied, blocking a blow from a new foe.

Velan smiled. He was where he belonged once again

 

*********

 

Lorgar blocked the dominion soldier's downward slash, before kicking him in the groin area, and slashing his own blade at his side. It landed with the nice sound of blade burying into flesh and metal.Without even glancing at the fallen body, Lorgar moved onto his next target, a fallen soldier who was cowering and hiding under his shield. Lorgar kicked away the shield, causing the soldier to put his hands on his head, Lorgar could smell urine,

"I surrender, have mercy!!!!"

Lorgar didn't even bother to respond or acknowledge the plea, as he dropped down his massive rune-clad greatsword, beheading the soldier in a single instant,

A clean and quick death, that's my mercy...

Many other elven soldiers where beginning to do the same thing, feebly trying to surrender to the dominating imperial force.  The sons of Whiterun, turned towards there current CO, Balgruaf, wondering what  to do. Balgruaf said,

"No prisoners, kill them, but do it cleanly." 

And with that, the slaughter continued. By the end of the skirmish  only around one hundred of elves managed to escape the cleverly planned ambush. Lorgar tugged at his cleanly shaven beard, before chuckling to himself.

"It's a good day for rain..." And as if the sky itself answered him, the torrent of rain continued to fall down upon the carrion filled battlefield. 

 

*******

Pilus backed out of the way of the enormous battleaxe being held by a monster of an Altmer. The Mer had to be almost seven feet tall, with arms atypical of the normal Altmer. They were like tree trunks, as big around as Pilus' thighs. And he wielded that battleaxe like it was a plaything. Any attempts at blocking the blows almost resulted in him losing his blade, so instead he adopted the dance around method.

Another swing came, around head level, and Pilus ducked and rolled to his right, away from where the swing would finish. He jumped out of the roll, and sliced the thigh of the huge Mer. This unleashed the beast, as the monstrous soldier yelled in rage and doubled his efforts. 

Every swing became faster, every attack had more force behind it, and he slowly closed the gap until Pilus can put of the roll only to see the blade upon him. He leapt backwards, but the edge caught his stomach and ripped it, his leather armor resisting as if it wasn't even there.

Pilus fell to the ground. He could feel the blood coming into his mouth, the metallic taste with it. The Altmer stood above him, axe ready to finish the job. Unfortunately for him, he never did as two crossbow bolts sprouted almost simultaneously from his chest. The axe fell with a thud, and so did the Mer.

Valvius and another engineer ran to him, and all he remembered before blacking out was calls for a healer.


*******
 

Gracchus' blade was coated in blood, and had his spells been a physical weapon, they would have been as well. The Stormcloak line had held superbly, with their shield wall pushing itself forward out of Falkreath. Men moved about, silencing the Thalmor who laid on the ground, and carrying the rest to the healers. 

One of these passing stretchers caught Gracchus attention, and the pale face he saw laying on it he instantly recognized. Valvius saw this, and put a hand on his shoulder. 

The engineer said, "The healers said the axe got him pretty good, but he has a chance."

Gracchus just stared dumbfounded. Thoughts blaming himself raced through his head.

I should have been there, I should have done something, I should have.....Whatever is done I can't change. He would want me to finish this up. I better go find Red-Snow.

Gracchus turned and left, headed towards where the Stormcloaks were finishing off the wounded inside the walls.

It's always nice when your writing gets reinforced by the canon after you come up with it.

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Vaelen Wolf-Runner
Falkreath - Battle
Noon
 

From the left and the right, Vaelen casted wards to stop incoming destruction spells from Thalmor soldiers and justiciars. The heat and the intense burning sensation from firebolts, bone chilling and subzero tempatures from frost spells, and hair raising and shocking adrenaline from lightning spells.

These Battlemages better keep casting summons, because this battle is intense. As Vaelen was warding off a flame spell, a Thalmor soldier to his right, began charging him. Knowing that he was going to engage in melee combat, Vaelen quickly casted a shield spell and readied the steel shield that he picked up earlier. The Thalmor soldier ran up and swung his sword in a vertical angle. Side stepping, Vaelen came across with a right horizontal attack. Within a split second, Vaelen's blade found its mark. Sinking into the neck of the Thalmor soldier, Vaelen's silver longsword glimmered in the sunlight. Pulling the blade out of the High Elf's flesh, Vaelen let roar escape his throat.

As he was gloating in his small victory, Vaelen felt the hair's all over his body stick up. Instinctively, he casted a full body ward to protect himself. In a flash of lightning, it was all over. Looking back at where the Battlemages were, Vaelen saw them all dead. About 40 yards away was a very powerful Thalmor justiciar. The elf's hands tingled with aetheric electricity. You bastard. Knowing that this would be his defining moment, Vaelen tore his mithril helmet off of his face and started to walk towards the justiciar.

The justiciar was causing chaos all over the battlefield. He was casting fireballs and AoE lightning spells at Imperial and Stormcloak forces alike, and smile maliciously as he did so. Vaelen watched as the justiciar sent a fireball right towards a group of Imperial Legionnaires. Like an explosion, the fireball encased everyone in a 20ft radius in flames. Screams of dying men and women, hit Vaelen hard. It was almost like a mini Second Great War. Snapping out of delusions, Vaelen focused his attention back on the justiciar. Cutting down any Thalmor that in the way of him and his intended target, Vaelen was about ready to go berserk. Seeing a group of Thalmor soldiers, encircling the justiciar to protect him, Vaelen casted his "Cat" spell, which increased his reaction time, speed and agility.

Running but as if in slow motion, Vaelen did a leaping thrust at a unsuspecting Thalmor soldier. Vaelen's blade sunk deep in the Mer's flesh. Pulling it out with lightning speed, Vaelen turned around to see three Thalmor soldier rushing at him. The Cat spell still in affect, Vaelen watched in slow motion as they ran towards him. After finally closing the gap, the Thalmor soldiers went on the attack. Dodging a thrusting attack from the first Thalmor soldier, Vaelen easily sidestepped and decapitated the soldier in clean motion. The next one tried to jump on top of him, but thanks to spell that Vaelen casted, he jumped to the side and as he did so, cut deeply into the back of the neck of the Thalmor soldier. The third and final Thalmor, raised his shield in order to avoid Vaelen's lightning fast attacks. Feeling the affect's the spell starting to wear off, Vaelen knew he had to end this, running, Vaelen did a frontflip over the confused soldier and landed right behind him. As soon as he landed, Vaelen ran up and decapitated the soldier from behind.

Instantly time flowed normally again for Vaelen. Focusing his attention back on the justiciar, Vaelen realized, he was running away towards a grove trying to escape Vaelen. I don't think so. Chasing after the fleeing justiciar, Vaelen tried to avoid any fights with Thlamor soldiers. Finally catching up to the justiciar, he turned around and immediately casted a fireball straight Vaelen. Casting a full body ward, Vaelen walk straight towards the incoming fireball. As the flames washed over him, he felt he was being baptized by fire, literally. At first, Vaelen saw the justiciar smile, but then as Vaelen wlked out of the inferno, his smile turned up side down. As Vaelen got closer, the justiciar yelled out, "You're a traitor to your Race!"

The icy spear flew from Vaelen's hand into the stomach of the justiciar. Kneeling down and screaming in pain, Vaelen stood over his helpless victim. Raising his sword, he said, "No, you are", and beheaded the justiciar on the spot.

It's always nice when your writing gets reinforced by the canon after you come up with it.

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Baldur, Rebec, Gracchus, Suri, and Boldir
Falkreath battlefield
Just after noon


Once Rebec found Baldur on the battlefield, there wasn't much time either for a reunion or to regroup. As they fought side by side, she saw what looked like some members of the militia fighting also. Some of the townspeople must have been so enraged at seeing Dominion soldiers inside their town that they had thrown away caution for their own lives. That's Nords for you, Rebec thought proudly. It was a fine sight after the weeks of complaining, demands and sabotage.

With the extra help, they were able to push the elves back through the breach and before the broken-in walls. The admiral even thought she saw imperials through the smoke. She shouted over to Baldur. "Looks like we got company!"

More elves were running in their direction, no order to their attack, just fighting for their lives. Before Rebec could hear Baldur's reply, an elven warrior came out of nowhere, leaping into the air towards her. She felt a shield crash into her head and then she was on the blood-soaked ground in a fury of limbs and weapons. While the man's sword was locked with one her axes, she had lost the other one in the fall,. With her free hand she punched him once in the jaw with her gauntlet, then clawed under his helmet to get to his eyes

Baldur was locked in combat next to her with a thalmor soldier dual wielding two elven swords. The elf grew weaker and weaker with every strike Baldur landed as the elf skillfully albeit almost pointlessly blocked his strikes due to the lightning enchantments. When Baldur saw Rebec fall, Baldur threw his left axe horizontally into the elf's soft neck flesh before sending the Thalmor soldier over her a savage kick to his gut to get him off.

"Finish him, Rebec!"

After saying this, Baldur quickly retrieved his other axe before another enemy engaged him.

With more instinct than precision, Rebec scrambled up, pinning the elf and slashing at his sword arm. It fell to his side, useless, and he dropped his sword. This was the least of his problems, however, since in the next moment he had an angry Nord woman with her axe held in both hands, smashing it down into his face. The only thing that made Rebec stop was the sight of more enemies charging toward her. She kicked away from the dead elf and felt in the gore and mud until she found her other axe.

Seeing more enemies coming towards them after Rebec slayed the soldier, Baldur looked to Rebec and called out to her after he finished his latest target burying his axe in the elf's neck.

"Rebec, take my shield, quickly."

About to shake her head in refusal of Baldur's suggest, Rebec reconsidered. They might need to form another shield wall if the elves kept coming, and in her tired and bruised condition, the extra defense would help.

"You take it!" she yelled back. "I'll take his." It was only poetic justice. She sheathed her axe and grabbed the elven shield.

Suri came back into view, rejoining her. Just then Rebec felt a surge of energy go through her. She looked up and saw Runil on the battlements, waving his arms as he cast.

Baldur took Rebec's advice and unsheathed his shield, backing up with her and Suri side by side to the shield wall. Baldur couldn't have been more proud to fight with his new family. Turning to see Boldir eviscerating the enemy, Baldur called out to him.

"Boldir, shield wall!"

Boldir turned at the sound of Baldur's voice. Pulling his axe from an elf's corpse, he began to make his way across the field to where his friends were forming the new wall. His gauntleted hands now matched his visor and axe head with a dark shade of red. His sash was stained with mer blood as well. It had been a long time since he'd fought any Thalmor, and he'd been making sure that he made the most of it while he could.

As he rejoined the group, Boldir unslung his shield and took his place in the wall with his friends. The battle was decided, but not over. There were still plenty of Elves to be killed. The collisions of Elf bodies into their wall was harder this time than before. It was a more desperate push. As if making it into the city would save them. Boldir couldn't help but laugh a bit as they pushed back. If the Elves were to have any chance of survival, they were running in the wrong direction.

Baldur thought back to his wedding night when he and Rebec sat by the camp fires after his song. He had removed his gauntlets, and held Rebec's hand all throughout that night, staring at each other occasionally as they did. Eventually the pair decided to call it a night, both heavy with love and lust, but Suri had stopped them before they could sneak off, begging Baldur for one more song. Baldur eventually gave in, but instead of singing, he taught her, Rebec and Boldir a song he had planned for the group if they ever got the chance to fight together against the Thalmor. Remembering this, Baldur called out above the chaos of the war.

"Let flow the blood of our foe."

The others remembering the night as well called out,

"With axe and sword!"

Without missing a beat, Boldir grinned and shouted out the next line. "Let them taste the curs!"

The song was punctuated by the sound of Dominion warriors slamming against the shields, and screams on the flanks from those being cut down.

Laughing, Rebec called out the next line. "Hear steel sing as they cleave through mer!"

Baldur could hear Suri call out next to him as he buried his axe in a female Thalmor's face in front of him, "Shor smiles at the sight of mer running in fright,"

Baldur smiled and proclaimed with the others, "From the sting of axe and sword!"

Baldur, "We greet thee in the land of the Nord,"

"With axe and sword!"

Boldir bellowed, "As we proclaim 'Not eight but Nine!' "

Rebec looking up changed her line to match the scene, "The sky reflects the presence of Kyne,"

Suri sang, "Let blood drench her floors like water on shore,"

"From the deathly embrace of axe and sword!"

Baldur, "Ancestors watching us from afar,"

Boldir, "High in the sky, from great Sovngarde,"

Rebec, "Watch as we send all the cur to death's door,"

Suri, "Show we are worthy of the Hall of Lord Shor,"

Baldur, "Serve Kyne's crows flesh, the flesh of Thalmor!"

"With axe and sword!"

Baldur remembered that Suri thought it odd she mentions the hall of Shor as a Redguard at the night of the wedding. Baldur smiled and told her that "Show we are worthy" was very appropriate for her in that case. He watched as his family, Boldir included, killed the elves in unison, and thought to himself that if someone as valiant as Suri couldn't get in, that he'd have a few words with Shor when he got there.

As the Dominion forces saw their own being repelled by the shield wall and imperial soldiers bearing in on them from behind, they realized that there was no salvaging any victory. The justiciars might order them to fight to the death, but with the smell of burned blood heavy on the field, survival instinct was stronger. A group of about a hundred of them broke towards the north, mostly soldiers though there were a few mages among them as well.

Soon the only Thalmor left on the killing field were those too injured to leave it. As their shield wall found no more challengers, Rebec glanced around, assuring herself that Suri was alright. She turned to Baldur. Their eyes met and for a moment, her face was still hard from battle. Then a smile appeared. They had won.

Her practical sense didn't allow for much celebration yet. "I saw some fleeing in the direction of Lake Ilinalta. We'll have to chase them." Turning to Boldir, she gave him a grin. "Well, junior. You don't look the worse for wear."

Boldir nodded before he took off his bloody helmet. "Junior" has been looking forward to a fight like this one for years now. Talos favors the dedicated."

Baldur removed his helmet and couldn't hide the grin on his face. The war for now was finally coming to an end. He would have kissed Rebec, but the gore covering his face and hers made that not such an appealing idea. Baldur turned to the others, still smiling from his battle rush.

"Well, only one thing to do now. We have to go finish off the rest of them. Boldir, Rebec. Lets go meet with the Legate and see if he knows if the Thalmor are held up anywhere else. Suri, you should go to Runil and get healed up after the more seriously wounded are attended to. In the mean time, join the men and have them finish off all the wounded Thalmor. No prisoners."

Rebec tossed the elven shield away. "Fine. Let's go talk to the imps. After today I might even start to like this legate."

There was an imperial delegation already headed out to them, so they didn't have far to walk. Behind them, cheers were echoing throughout the town of Falkreath as word spread that the battle was over with the Dominion forces crushed.

Gracchus walked across the battlefield, his boots constantly stepping on bodies or in pools of blood. The Stormcloak leaders advanced as well, until the two met in the middle of the slaughter field.

"General Red-Snow, nice to see you again. You as well High Admiral. And who is this?" Gracchus asked referring to the large Nord with the couple.

Boldir nodded at the Legate. He didn't much like showing such pleasentries to a man he'd hated not two days before, but given the circumstances, he looked past that.

"The name's Boldir. I'm the General's second in Command."

"He's also my brother and the most skilled and deadliest fighter among the Grim Ones. Now, would you know if the Thalmor are held up anywhere else in Skyrim?" said Baldur.

Gracchus acknowledged the large Nord.

"Good to meet you. I'm sure you are an excellent fighter."

He then turned to Baldur.

"The Thalmor have around 700 men between both Helgen and Fort Neugrad. I ordered them to take care of the bandits there before the siege began."

"Oh, thank you very much, Legate," Rebec grumbled at the news. "I don't suppose you can ask them to leave again?"

Baldur gave a sigh before he started to go over his plans with the Legate Gracchus, hoping he wouldn't have any objections. With the Thalmor running, they did not have time for any, so he had to explain it right the first time.

"It's of no consequence. Our forces can easily take the targets. Legate, I suggest you send three hundred and fifty men to Helgen, and I'll send seven hundred men to Neugrad. I'll also send three hundred and fifty men with you to Helgen to occupy the fort when the Thalmor are dead, and to let reinforcements know you are not enemies. My men know of a secret entrance into Neugrad, and should be able to take the fort quickly. Once your men take Helgen and my men occupy it, send your men to the Pass once more and we'll have supplies shipped to you. I'll be in Whiterun for the time being, but I'll send Brund Hammer-Fang to camp by the Pass with a small force. When our reinforcements come, they'll bolster the camp's numbers. Just a precaution you understand. Ulfric will have my head if I don't take them. Once I explain things to Ulfric and your Princess takes care of your Emperor, your men will be free to leave unharmed. What say you, Legate?"

Gracchus stroked his goatee, and finally replied.

"Your terms sound acceptable, although I do have one stipulation I would like to add. With the pass being blocked off, and plenty of men on hand, I suggest we begin the process of clearing it, as the time it will take is substantial. Otherwise I agree to your terms."

"Fine by me. I will have my men help when reinforcements arrive. But we shouldn't clear too much just in case the other Legions are working on it as well. Anything else to add? If not, I need to get going. Those Thalmor can't be allowed to escape." said Baldur.

Gracchus looked at each of the leaders, and said,

"Yes, there is something else I want to say. I would like to, on behalf of the legion, apologize for not siding with you sooner. Now that the real threat is gone from your home, I hope we can work for the betterment of mankind and rid all of Tamriel from the Thalmor."

"Better late than never, Legate. Better late than never. Your children will thank you for this. As will ours. Now, lets go finish the job. Boldir, I need to have a word with you and the Admiral. Orders and all that. Good day to you Gracchus. And good luck." said Baldur.

The admiral was about to turn and leave without a word, but she stopped and looked over her shoulder at the imperial legate. "You did good work today, Gracchus Ceno." She didn't smile as she said it, but her tone was genuine, and that was as much as Rebec could manage.

Gracchus gave a reassuring nod before turning and heading back to his side of the battlfield with a half-smile on his face.

Once he got to his men, he organized 350 of the reserves and sent them to Helgen, where they would hopefully end the Thalmor presence in Skyrim.

"Orders and all that?" Asked Boldir as the Stormcloaks headed back to gather their forces for the pursuit. "What else is there Baldur?"

Baldur started to stroke his beard with his right hand while his elbow rested in his left.

"It's about the Pass. There's a reason I offered to help unblock the area. I may use this opportunity to take it for ourselves once the Legion returns to Cyrodiil. What do you two think?"

"I think we've gone too easy on them by letting them off like we are." Said Boldir. "The least we can do is take the Pass as payment. Up until we seceded, they never manned that old fort anyway."

Baldur shook his head in agreement at the response.

"And you Rebec? They may not have manned the fort before, but it was always assumed by them to be theirs. However if we are going to work together, they need to give some form of payment for the deaths they caused. And if we are allies, that Pass will serve as a quick way to get into Cyrodiil if they are invaded. Or..."

Baldur let the implication hang in the air.

"Or," Rebec agreed solemnly. "The Pass should be ours, and I don't care what the imps say about it. This time Ulfric damn well better man it properly."

"Then we're in agreement. Before we take off Boldir, have Brund Hammer-Fang carry out my orders that we just talked about with Gracchus. Then let him know what he is to do in the Pass once the reinforcements arrive and the Imperials are gone. As soon as they are gone, we will fortify the Pass with men and more walls. We need to do this to make sure we control who comes into Skyrim anyway. Our alliance will go no further than trade relations and fighting the Thalmor." said Baldur.

"Oh, and have him start recruiting members of the militia into our ranks, including that Altmer we saw earlier with us. He's proven himself."

Boldir nodded. "On it."

He waited a moment to make sure there was nothing Baldur wanted to add. When he was sure there wasn't, he ran off to fetch Brund. When Boldir returned, Baldur and Rebec were with the force they had gathered. Without anymore delay, they headed north in pursuit of the fleeing remnants of the Dominion army.


***
 

Marching in the front of roughly four hundred of his Grim Ones, Baldur stood next to Rebec and Boldir on the road next to Lake Ilinalta. The sky in this part of Skyrim was clear, and the sun was out. This part of Falkreath was also not gloomy and muddy like the rest. It was a beautiful forested area with lots of vegetation, and the lake provided the soldiers with a beautiful view of the large lake. A strong contrast to the thunderous scene back at the hold, both the weather and the war. The road they were traveling on was the same road they had marched on in the opposite direction to reach Camp Rommulas. Baldur wished to pause to take it all in, but he couldn't risk the Thalmor making it across the border to relay what took place there in Falkreath. It would ruin their future plans to replace the Emperor. And any future plans of a period of peace along with it.

"This is it, you two. We take these elves out, and all goes well at Helgen and Neugrad and we'll finally have a break. Ready to see Carlotta, Iron-Brow?"

Rebec looked over at Boldir, her brow raised. "Carlotta? Is that the lass I met in Whiterun, the one who had the bad taste to turn you down?"

"There was more to it than that!" Boldir snapped. "Aye, it's her. We've got some things to talk about. She'd agree, I think."

"Well I told you as much, didn't I," Rebec replied, grinning. With their victory impending, she wasn't about to be moody or let anyone else be. Throwing an arm around Boldir's shoulders- or as close as she could reach- she gave him a rough half-hug. "If she doesn't smarten up, you should marry this axe. It's a fine axe."

Boldir laughed. "Well I do love my axe but... it's got too much of a mean streak."

Baldur felt a pit in his stomach when he heard Boldir's reaction to Rebec's words. He knew the subject was a sensitive topic, but he assumed he'd be in a happier mood since he'd see her again. He forgot that they weren't really together though. However he was glad to hear him cheer up immediately thanks to Rebec, and he couldn't help but smile. It was the kind of smile one got when your burdens were finally lifted and you could look towards better days in the horizon.

"Let's double time it then. The quicker we get these Thalmor, the quicker Boldir gets to bed his axe. Or Carlotta. Whatever, ha! Double time it, men!"


***

As the Stormcloak force moved through the gap in the mountains that led toward the tundra and the western portion of Lake Ilinalta, they began to see mage lightning and fire and hear the sounds of fighting.

The officers were at the front of the column. As she crested a rise, Rebec suddenly halted in her tracks. There was a small pile-up behind her before the men could stop, but the admiral barely noticed.

"Look!" She pointed toward the spot on the tundra where the Thalmor were engaged in a fierce battle... with several dozen giants.

Baldur had no words. When he tried to say something, a Thalmor soldier was sent flying into the air from the powerful swing of one of the giant's great club weapons. The soldier was sent up so high that he got smaller and smaller until Baldur could no longer see the mer and he disappeared into the bright blue abyss of Kyne's Sky. Baldur's jaw dropped from his mouth as he continued to stay silent and watched in awe.

At the sight of Elves flying through the air after blows from the massive beings, Boldir began to laugh. He stopped himself when it began to hurt his soar throat, but still couldn't help the short chuckles that were escaping him.

"They- hehe they must have the worst luck of any invading force in history!"

He looked at the other two. "Think they'd appreciate our help?"

"I'm not going down there! You can feel the earth shake from here!" said Baldur.

"The mountain fathers have come down to defend us, just like in the stories." Rebec's mouth was still hanging open.

At Boldir's remark and question, she finally came out of her stupor. "I think this is luck the elves made for themselves. We had reports of Thalmor attacking the giant camp at Sleeping Tree. If they believed the giants possessed magical treasures, that may not have been the only place they raided." To Baldur she added, "We have to do something. Those elves are doomed, but if the fathers see us standing here with another army, they may start in on us. Besides, they're... they're special."

Boldir put on his helmet and unsheathed his axe. "You don't have to tell me twice. This'll make for a good story."

Baldur gave Rebec and Boldir a look that said she must have cracked her skull.

"Rebec, did that shield hit you harder than we thought back at Falkreath? What's this about mountain fathers? What are you suggesting?"

The admiral returned her husband's look with one that said he must have been raised by elves. "Don't you know? There are tales that the giants were once kings in Atmora. Some say they're even the fathers of the Nords. Anyway, it doesn't matter. You can see they're on our side now. Boldir and I want to fight. You stay and watch if you want. Keep most of the men out of sight, that way we don't risk the entire group if... if the stories aren't true."

Baldur's brow knit at the notion that he would just stay and watch.

"Hmph! You two had the advantage of not having an Imperial loving milk drinker for a father. You'll have to explain it to me later. And in any case, if you think I'm gonna just stand and watch, then you two don't know Baldur. Lets get this over with."

Boldir grinned under his helmet. He knew Baldur wouldn't say no after Rebec called him out like that. In truth, all this "Fathers" stuff was as unknown to him as it was to Baldur. But he didn't mention that.

"They'll already be pissing their pants by the time we get there. This'll be fun."

Grinning like a Khajiit in a pile of moon sugar, Rebec pulled her axes and began shouting orders to the nearest Necro Nords. They would take a dozen men with them, the rest should hide behind the trees in the gap towards Falkreath. If the frenzied giants decided to take their retribution that direction, all bets were off.

"Alright. The mages are hanging back from the rest and don't have any giants around them, so let's go take them out. Ready?" The small group of attackers looked mostly as dubious as Baldur had been, but the admiral ignored that. At their nods, she turned and ran down the slope, giving a new battle cry. "FOR OLD ATMORA!"

Blazes to Atmora. Thought Boldir as he charged alongside them. The thrill of another battle was  This is for fun! Despite his thoughts, he gave the battle cry like the rest of them. He could see the Elves ahead turning at the sounds of their cries. He could even see the terror in their eyes as they closed in. The Elves knew that this was the end of the line for them.

"Run them over! Let none escape!"

As the soldiers charged in on the group, some of the Thalmor stayed to fight, shooting fire at the group, which the men blocked with shields. Most of them tried to run however, leaving their comrades to be felled. Baldur, like he was so fond of doing, threw his axe into the back of one of the fleeing Justiciars before he got too far and kept on charging towards the rest after he picked the axe up on his way to them.

Rebec was enraged when she saw the Thalmor trying to flee. Elves and their quick little feet, she thought, cursing and running after them. Before she could get too far, however, she noticed a giant being massed by a dozen Dominion soldiers at once. He was smaller than the other creatures, and though he could take out two men for every swing of his club, his wounds were weakening him.

There were none of his fellows close enough to help him, so with another loud curse Rebec gave up her chase and ran in that direction. She began to hack at the giant's attackers, while having to dodge his club at the same time.

Baldur watched as Rebec charged in by the giant, and his stomach literally felt like it was going to jump out of his throat. Baldur ended his pursuit, and took off after her.

"Rebec, are you crazy?!? Men, six of you keep chasing them! The rest of you, lets give the Admiral support! You too Boldir!"

Boldir hurried after Baldur to assist Rebec as the small wave of Necro Nords came down onto the Elves. It wouldn't take long for them to obliterate this lot. Boldir cleaved an Elf's head off his shoulders. As the body collapsed, a stray swing from the massive Giant's club came Boldir's way. With no room or time to dodge, Boldir swung his great battle axe in its direction in hopes of redirecting the blow. The power behind the swing was immense, and Boldir staggered back as his axe met it with a loud metallic "clang". But it worked, and the club flew through the air over him... Along with the shattered remains of his axe head.

"Shit!" Boldir backed up and threw aside the useless handle while drawing his war axe. "Shit shit shit!" He ran down another Thalmor soldier and sunk his blade into the Elf's head, still cursing as he did.

The giant's remaining tormentors broke off to meet the Nords at their backs, and were quickly hewn down. As Rebec finished off the last of the elves in her way, she ended up face to face with the giant. He was weaving on his feet, but his club was drawn back for another swing, and the admiral suddenly realized that she may have made Baldur a widower.

Then the club came to rest on the ground. The Nord woman and the giant looked at each other for a long moment. The creature reached up to scratch his chin as if in thought. Rebec, coming to her senses and not wishing to push her luck, began to back away. "We honor you, father. Let there be peace between us."

The giant didn't give any sign that he understood or cared, simply grunted once and turned, slowly lumbering off towards the others of his kind. With the elven attackers gone, flattened or sent toward the moons, these were already withdrawing into the tundra.

Baldur grabbed Rebec from behind by her shoulder and shook her slightly when he turned her.

"What in Oblivion were you thinking!?" said Baldur exasperatedly, filled with worry.

"That thing could have sent you to the moons!"

She seemed stunned herself. "I... I don't know. I had to help them. Don't worry, I'm alright." Rebec looked around and saw Boldir stooping to pick something off the ground, apparently unhurt. Satisfied that they had won the field and were all still standing, a smile crept to her face. She said it softly at first, then more loudly. "We won, Baldur. We WON." Laughing, she threw her arms around his neck and pulled him into a kiss.

Baldur was still shaken from the shock of what had just transpired. He was a bit angry at Rebec, but when she had proclaimed "We won", he started to slowly forgive her and he embraced her kiss. He was happy enough that he didn't care about how blood covered their faces were.

"You crazy, crazy woman. Well, that's what I get I guess. That's what I love about you in the first place."

Rebec laughed and kissed him again. "My conquering general!" Dancing away, she pulled one of her axes, shook it aloft and gave a loud, triumphant war whoop. The sound echoed on the tundra, and was taken up by their Necro Nord reserves.

While his friends embraced, Boldir gathered the shards of his dearest possession.

I can fix it! I can. It'll take the Skyforge itself, but-

Maybe you shouldn't.

What?! Carlotta this axe is my-

You plan to give all that up anyway, remember? Or were you having second thoughts? You really seemed to enjoy this carnage today.

I... I did. More than you could imagine.

You're a soldier and a killer at heart Boldir. You always were. Are you sure you'd give that up for me?

Boldir stayed knelt over the final piece of his axe for a long time. He looked around at the fruit of his labors, at the bodies of those who had killed so many of his friends, kidnapped his people. Enslaved them. He looked at Baldur and Rebec, covered in blood and grime, kissing above the bodies of their oppressors. They were true Nords, like Ysgramor himself. And so was he. This was his life. Am I sure?

"No. I'm not," he muttered. "But I'm going to try."

He tossed the final shard in his satchel. and and joined his friends in celebration. His mood quickly joined theirs in absolute elation. They HAD won. And this time, it was no small victory. This time, they had truly defeated their enemy. At this realization, relief joined in with Boldir's mix of emotions. There was no more threat, now. Skyrim was finally safe.
 


"The ending of the words is REBBABO."

It's always nice when your writing gets reinforced by the canon after you come up with it.

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Velan Quintus- Outside of Falkreath, Day

 

Velan stood up, his body bruised and aching. He picked up his sword, which still had some stains of Elven blood. He began to repair it, as he always did after a battle.

As he began to repair his blade, he reflected on the battle that had damaged his equipment, and his body.

~-~~--~--~~-~

Crack!

Velan felt the sharp pain in the lower left part of his back. He had been hit by a swift kick from a Dominion soldier.

He turned around to see the same soldier swinging a mace at him. He barely had time to sidestep before he was hit on the hip. The blow wasn't too solid, but it did knock Velan's sword out of his hand. The Elf started his next swing, this time aiming for Velan's face.

This time, Velan was prepared. He ducked under the blow, and thrust his shield into the Thalmor's elbow.

The mace dropped from the soldiers hand, and the struggle began. The Thalmor dove to the ground, and was met by a diving right jab from Velan. He then picked up the Elf's mace, and swung it down on the Thalmor until it got stuck in the mush that remained.

Velan got back to his feet, and ditched his shield, which was damaged, in favor of two maces.

Right after that, Velan spotted two soldiers attempting to gang up on Gergio. He sprinted over to the fight and surprised one of Gergio's foes with a destructive mace blow to the spine. There was an audible crack, as the metal met bone. As the soldier crumpled to the ground, it was clear that the metal had won. Now it was two on one.

Gergio began by charging at the Thalmor, and delivering a quick sword thrust. The soldier blocked the blow, but that left him ill prepared for the hellacious blow from Velan. The mace hit the Elf in the back of his head, caving in the back of his head. The force of the blow also pushed the most likely already dead soldier into Gergio's next thrust, basically impaling him.

Velan felt pain again, this time in his leg. He had been smacked by the soldier who he figured had died.

You should have just stayed down.

Velan turned around to see the Dominion soldier desperately trying to prepare to swing his mace again. Velan stomped on the Elf's arm, crushing it. He then brought his mace down on the Thalmor's head, smashing through the Elf's face.

Damn, this is getting intense.

Gergio confronted the next Thalmor that entered their vicinity. He spun through the Elf's ice spike and slashed the soldiers leg. That barely deterred the Dominion soldier. He was hiding the pain pretty well. The Altmer swung his sword at Gergio, but Velan's friend evaded it with ease. However, Gergio didn't see the soldier swing a second sword at him.

"GERGIO! GET DOWN!"

Gergio hit the ground, just barely getting grazed by the sword swing. He was bleeding, but not very badly. The Dominion soldier responded to all of this by gearing up for another swing.

Velan wasn't about to let his friend die.

Not here, not now.

Velan threw his mace at the Elf with all his might. The soldier looked up, and stopped his swing so he could attempt to dodge the mace. He almost dodged it completely, but it did smack him in on the side of his chest, making him bend forward.

Gergio, seeing the opportunity, threw a jab that hit the bent over Thalmor in the throat. It was Velan's turn.

Now weapon less, as he had lost his other mace in the previous scuffle, Velan charged and tackled the soldier to the ground. He then began to pummel the overwhelmed Elf. He punched him in the face several times, before picking up one of the Thalmor's swords and putting a huge gash in the soldiers throat.

"Thanks Velan!"

"No problem. We need to pull back a line, get away from the main fight. I'm tired, and you're hurt."

Velan had always said that the soldier who didn't know when they were tired, was a soldier with a death wish.

So he and Gergio pulled back a bit, behind two comrades.

Velan scavenged a steel mace and a round steel shield from a fallen comrade.

Just after Velan had caught his breath, two Dominion soldiers actually broke through the two soldiers who were taking he and Gergio's place for the moment.

Velan came in from the side, and bashed one of the soldiers with his shield. This knocked the soldier on his side, but he got up before Velan could take advantage.

Now squaring off with the Thalmor, Velan tested the soldier with a light swing of his mace. The Elf took the bait, and blocked it. Velan punished the Altmer's mistake by bashing him with his shield once again. This time when the soldier fell to the ground, Velan was ready.

He pounced onto the fallen Thalmor, and knocked away the soldiers sword. He then brought his mace down towards the Elf's skull, but the soldier used both of his arms to grab Velan's mace arm. Velan was ready for that, and for the third time, he bashed the Elf with his shield. Except this time, he didn't stop. He probably smashed his shield into the Thalmor's face about eight or nine times before he decided the soldier was most likely dead. Even if the Altmer was alive, he will probably wish he wasn't.

Velan then prepared himself, for anymore Elves foolish enough to oppose the Legion.

~-~~--~--~~-~

Velan had just finished up repairing his blade when Gergio approached him.

"Hey, I just wanted to thank you for helping me out earlier."

Velan just laughed.

"No thanks needed, friend. We are comrades, and as comrades, we help each other when needed. I'm just glad we made it."

"Still, you went out of your way. Just thought I would let you know I appreciated it. Also, one more thing."

"Yes?"

"Tomorrow, I want a rematch with you. I think I've gotten better. I want to see how far I've come."

Velan laughed once again.

"Gergio, I would never pass up the chance for a good fight. I accept. Also, I can already tell you've progressed a lot since the last time we trained. So hopefully, you will give me more trouble than you did last time."

"Actually I'm hoping to be more than you can handle."

"We shall see Gergio. In the meantime, I'm going to see if I can't make myself useful," Velan said with a small laugh.

"Alright, I'll see you around Velan."

With that, both Velan and Gergio went their separate ways.

It's always nice when your writing gets reinforced by the canon after you come up with it.

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Gracchus Ceno, Pilus Rato
Imperial Camp
Evening-Morning
 

Gracchus parted the entrance to the medical tent, ducking his head as he entered. The makeshift hospital smelled of death and gore, which reflected the state of its occupants. Used bandages found their home in a pile in one corner, while dead bodies filled one branch.

Gracchus walked into the wind opposite the bodies, where Pilus was barely conscious. His friend and fellow battlemage was a shade of white so pale he was almost transparent. All color was gone from his body, but as the Legate approached a painful smile appeared on his lips.

"I was wond-*cough*-ering if you would ever show up. Guess leading an army take up a lot of time. So what brings you to my neck of the woods?"

Every wood was a struggle, and Gracchus grimaced just watching his friend suffer.

"I wasn't sure which tent they houses the insane in."

Both laughed, although Pilus' was intercut by a cough that brought blood to his mouth.

"Very funny. So when will we be moving out?"

Gracchus was almost shocked by the question, until he realized that moving camp was the obvious next step.

"We have to back to the Pass. Stormcloaks want us a far away from their people, which I don't blame them for. We'll move out tomorrow."

Pilus nodded approvingly, but didn't say anything. Both men were quiet, the only sounds the groans of other patients. The unspoken words between them were that Pilus wouldn't be journeying to the camp, unless he was in a coffin. Gracchus decided to break the silence.

"How are you holding up? What did the healers say?"

Pilus coughed several times, and replied in a scratchy voice.

"Damn healers don't know a thing. They think I won't make it or some s***."

Gracchus couldn't help but smile at his friends comment about the healers, his resentment brought upon from a joke that Gracchus had played years ago, when he and a healer conviced Pilus that he had a "disease" that would make him unable to be with a woman. Of course once Pilus found out, he always hated "damn healers" as he put it.

"Still won't let that go, will you?" Gracchus asked.

Pilus put on the best fake frown he could manage under the circumstances.

"No. They never kn-*cough*-ow what they are talking about."

A nurse came by, a pretty young Breton, holding a jug of water.

"Do either of you need anything? Water, or maybe another pillow?"

Pilus shook his head, and Gracchus said, "No thank you, we are just fine."

This could have been further from the truth, as the bandages around Pilus' midsection were stained with blood, and he had a cold sweat dripping down his forehead.

"Gracchus, we both know what's going to happen. I'm not going to make it. I don't have any family at home, my life was the legion. When I...when I die, I want you to cremate me, and scatter the ashes here when we leave. I want to be here, at this land so many of us died to protect from the Thalmor. I want to be here."

Pilus looked at his friend, waiting for a reply.

"You can't say things like that. The gods have a way of surprising us, you never know-"

"Gracchus, I do know. I can feel it, even now. Just do as I say, please."

"I will. I...we've been on many adventures together, and I always imagined us ending ours days with grandkids on our laps and pretty wife's at home."

"So did I. You can still have that. When you get back home, and promise the this or I'll haunt you forever, that you'll marry that girlfriend or whatever she is. Swear it."

Gracchus smiled, a halfhearted gesture given the situation.

"I will. Now you better rest up, we move in the morning."

*******

The next day Gracchus stood on the battlefield, watching as several Stormcloak soldiers dumped bodies into wagons. Blood still sat on the ground, the majority of it Elven. In his hand Gracchus gripped the urn, the weight in his hand not nearly as heavy as the one on his heart. He reached inside, grabbing a handful of the ashes and spreading them out, from the Imperial lines to the edge of the wall.

Goodbye Pilus. Goodbye.

As Gracchus walked back to the camp, the trail of ashes became dotted with small droplets of water, falling from his cheek.

*******

The camp was all packed and ready to leave, with only a few of the gravely injured staying behind. He hasn't cleared that with Baldur, but Gracchus figured that he would understand. He hopped on his horse, reaching around to let the sugar cube in his hand be licked of, before pulling on the reins and steering the horse south, back to the Pass.

It's always nice when your writing gets reinforced by the canon after you come up with it.

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Jon
Outside of Falkreath
Evening
 

Jon sat in his chair, as he had for the past couple of hours.

Hopefully this gets started soon.

He pulled out his blades and began to twirl one of them in his right hand, and twirled the other one with magic. As they spun, he began to plan his next actions.

I wonder which reaction he will give me? Defiant and full of futile bravado? Or more likely, he'll be confused and frightened. Either way, he will comply...

Finally, Jon heard his guest move.

"You've awakened. Welcome to my guest room."

"Your... guest room? This is a dark ass cave! Let me go, you fool!" yelled the mercenary leader.

Defiant? This will be interesting.

"Please, keep your voice down. It will benefit us both. Now, I'm going to ask you some questions. I urge you not only to answer them, but to answer them honestly as well."

"Screw you. I am not answering sh-"

The goon was met with a sharp pain in his spine, that spread throughout his body. As sharply as the pain started, it ended.

"Ahhh! What the hell!"

"Listen here. I am trying to make this easy. However if you wish to make things difficult, you will get your wish. I am as cruel as I am polite. So, how do you want to proceed?"

Sinking into his chair, the mercenary replied a little quieter than he had previously.

"Whatever. You don't have it in you."

Oh, how wrong you are, Jon thought as he stopped twirling his swords.

"We shall see. First question. What is your name?"

"Colin."

Jon got up from his chair. He walked towards the Breton, and thrust a dagger into his thigh. Jon's guest screamed with pain.

"See, this is what I was talking about. Don't lie to me. You're name is Clinton, as I figured out from all the letters I've collected. So before you answer the next question, know that I most likely know the answer."

Through gritted teeth, Clinton answered him.

"If you already knew the answers, then why ask the questions?!?"

"That's for me to know. Next question, how did you locate Eduard?"

"We heard that there was an Imperial force in Skyrim, so we checked it out, and ended up finding him."

Jon responded by healing the Breton's stab wound.

"There. You see how this works? You play nice, I'll play nice. You play tough, I'll play tougher."

"Fine by me."

Jon returned to his chair.

"Good. Hopefully that means we are on the same page. Next question, how much are you being paid to capture Eduard?"

Clinton looked down, obviously nervous about answering. Jon responded by getting back out of his chair.

"Alright! I'll tell you. Just please sit down."

Which Jon did.

"500 up front, 1,000 when we got it done."

"Not bad. Although, you won't be getting your completion pay. Next question, who is paying you?"

This time Clinton really got nervous. Jon responded by throwing a dagger that missed the Breton's throat by inches.

"I missed on purpose. Now talk."

Clinton sighed.

"I'm dead either way. Just kill me."

Ugh... Time to get rough.

Jon threw another dagger, this time striking Clinton in the shoulder.

"Listen here then. You want to stop answering me? Asking to die? You'll get no such mercy here. I will allow you to live, but it won't be pretty. I was thinking of having you as a live target for training. Or maybe a test subject for my new weapons and magic. Or maybe, if you answer me honestly, I won't do that. In fact, I'll release you from my control."

Clinton was horrified by the first part of Jon's response, and also in a lot of pain.

"Please, just take the dagger out!"

Jon began to spin another dagger in his hand.

"I want a name. Now."

"Baro. His name is Baro."

This is an unexpected development. I haven't heard his name in years.

Jon got up, and removed the dagger from Clinton's shoulder. He then healed the wound.

"There. Now, time for me to fulfill my part of the bargain. Releasing you from my control."

Jon took out a dagger, lined with a poison similar to the one used before on Clinton, except it didn't cause the intense pain.

Clinton passed out immediately.

I almost feel bad for this. I didn't lie to him though. He won't be under my control.

Jon picked up Clinton, and put him in a covered cart. He then began to push it.

~~-~--~~-~--~~

Jon had finally arrived at the spot. It was just outside of Eduard's hangout, but it was well hidden. He pulled Clinton's lifeless body out of the cart, and tied his hands around one of the trees.

He then injected the Breton with the antidote for the first poison. Before Clinton could even awaken, Jon had injected a new poison. This was the same poison, except it lasted until an antidote was administered.

Jon then began to write a note.
 

Eduard,

I have questioned the mercenary. Here is what I obtained:

His name is Clinton. He was hired to capture you by Baro (yes, that Baro) for the price of 500 up front, with a 1,000 completion pay. He tries to be defiant, but he caves easily. He isn't too spectacular.

Oh, the antidote is 10 feet directly to the east of the tree I tied him to. Also, he is tied up in the spot I told you about earlier. And don't worry, I can take care of Baro. I located him a while back, just for reference. It seems that information just became useful.

I must be getting back to Livia. I've been away for almost 6 hours now. I'll speak with you another time.

-Jon
 

Jon snuck the letter into Eduard's bed, and then faded back into the woods towards Livia.

It's always nice when your writing gets reinforced by the canon after you come up with it.

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Magdela Bathory

4E201
Skingrad
Shortly after the assassination of Titus Mede II
 

Maggie stood in front of her father's desk, feeling as small as she had there as a child.  Darius had not seen in her in over five years, but he barely looked up from his papers when she entered.

"I can get you a seat on the Elder Council, nothing more.  Even that is not easy these days.  Damned Nibeneans think they own everything, to say nothing of the Thalmor."

"The Thalmor are useful to us, and more open to our approaches than you realize, Father.  As for a seat on the Elder Council, I don't need one.  I've got my own ways of seeing to our interests."

The Count lifted his hawk gaze at her.  "I'm well aware of your ways.  They're dangerous.  They expose us too much.  Or did you not learn your lesson the last time?â€

Maggie gave a little smile.  She didn't believe that it was exposure her father worried about, rather that popular acclaim gave her a measure of power he couldn't control.  â€œI'll be more careful than last time.  Could we discuss it later?  I'm tired from my journey and I need to look in on Mother as well."

Darius dismissed her with a wave, and Maggie walked out, fighting to keep the anger down.  I'm going to outlive you all, she thought bitterly.  It would be no mean feat.

Anna Bathory was in her bed surrounded by pillows and her enormous old housecat.  She wasn't really ill, of course, but loved to pretend she was.  It gave her more reason to harass her bevy of personal servants and force sympathy out of them.  One of these, a young woman Maggie recognized, was sitting at the bedside reading to the countess.

"I've returned, Mother.  Hello Leni." Maggie touched the maid's cheek, smiling at her.  The maid smiled back.  Her eyes were glazed, expression wan.  She was a favorite, then.

Anna fluttered a hand out towards her daughter.  â€œCome here, darling.  Let me kiss you.† She was still a beautiful woman, the plumpness in her body and face not unattractive, but she smelled of the half-dead flowers that were rotting in her room.  The countess insisted on them being cut for her, and afterward couldn’t bear to part with them.  Maggie leaned down to receive the kiss, then quickly stepped back.

"Tell me the news, Mother.  What have I missed?"

As her mother launched into a long narration of all the gossip from Bruma to Leyawiin, Maggie wandered over to the desk and glanced at the stack of letters.  Darius Bathory was Count of Skingrad, but Anna had a dynasty of her own, made up of a network of mostly female correspondents from across the old empire.  It was her mother's letter writing that had taught Maggie the power in words, not just in titles and wealth.  The contents also supplied material for her books.

There would be no end to Anna's narration, so when Maggie had heard enough she simply interrupted to excuse herself.  She needed to wash and change, and she was expecting company.  When the young stable hand who took her horse had heard Maggie's whispered invitation to come to her room that night, he'd been dumbstruck, as though unable to believe his luck.

Maggie had walked away before hearing if he would accept.  She knew that he would.
 

Imperial City
Two months later
 

Julia eagerly took the manuscript from Maggie's hand and sat down with her spectacles to read it.  The middle-aged woman was part-time socialite, part-time literary agent, and Maggie was her most celebrated client.  As she reached the bottom of the first page, her expression had soured.

"Sons of Skyrim? By the Eight, Maggie, you just returned from the gods-forsaken south.  Where are the steamy jungles and coral beaches?"

"Skyrim is where the action is now.  That's what is on everyone's mind.  Even if they'd never go there, they want to imagine themselves in the thick of it.  And I didn't want to write about steamy jungles while I was stewing in the middle of one."

Julia was flipping pages, reading ahead.  "You have the empire losing the war."

"Aren't we?  I'd say it's all but settled now, with the emperor murdered."

"Be that as it may, reminding people will ruffle feathers."  The agent caught Maggie's look, then they both laughed.  A lot of coin had been generated from the controversies over Bathory novels.

"An imperial victory, that is what people think they want to read about," Maggie explained, her voice animated.  "I'm going to make them see the romance of an independent Skyrim, flaunting its barbaric freedom to a decadent south.  The fierce, rugged Nord, subdued by no army but tamed by a lover's hand, trembling at her very touch..."

Julia's expression changed again, the older woman latching on to the picture and letting her own imagination carry it on.  "Alright.  When can you have it done?  It's been a year and a half since Affairs of the Justiciar came out, and we could all use a some gold in our purses.  The bribes you have to pay these days, it's criminal."

"I've almost finished.  I need to settle some things with the house, then I'll get back to work on it."  Maggie gathered her cloak, preparing to go.

Julia peered out over her spectacles.  "Are you sure about that schedule?  I heard you got an invitation to dine with the emperor tomorrow night.  You might be busy."

"My, my.  News does travel fast."

"Pet, this may look like a great city, but it's a tiny village if you know the right people.  Tell me, Maggie, when are you going to get yourself a real lover?"

"I've got plenty of lovers."

"Yes, of course.  Men who wake up thinking it was the best night of their lives, only they can't remember a thing that happened, and for a few days afterward they're a little tired, a little under the weather.  Soon the poor fools might forget they were ever with you.  All they know is that they worship the ground you walk on."  Julia stopped, putting down the page she had been holding.  "I'm not talking about that kind of lover."

Maggie sighed.  "Sofia is the one who was given permission to marry, you know that.  I would never choose such a dreary existence."

"Divines!  Who said anything about marriage?  A beau, Maggie.  Someone who cares about you.  That isn't forbidden, you know, not if you're careful.  I can arrange some introductions."

Maggie was already at the door when Julia called after her.  "Don't tell me you aren't lonely, Magdela.  I think you might be the loneliest person in this city."

Let's hope there's at least one other of those, Maggie thought as she let the door close behind her.


Imperial Palace
Just after the Battle at Pale Pass
 

"You didn't attend us at the garden party yesterday," Amaund Motierre pouted.  He was sprawled back on his bed, head propped on his arms.  Maggie felt his eyes on her.  She was giving him a good view of her back.

"Excellency, I am a working woman, not idle like your other courtiers.  And I must be careful not to draw the empress' jealousy."

Motierre snorted in disgust.  "Who cares what Venusa thinks.  She hasn't given me any more sons.  I'm thinking of locking her up, what would you say to that?"

"Your will, Excellency," Maggie demurred.  Venusa was the daughter of the Count of Anvil, and Motierre's second and current wife.  She was therefore competition, but Maggie had nothing particular against her.  They had been friendly towards each other in past years, and the young empress made no real objection to a courtesan's increasing draw on her husband's attentions.  In fact, she seemed relieved.  Maggie had come to understand why.

Half turning, she asked, "What of the princess?  When does she return from Skyrim?"

"Never, probably."  The emperor laughed. "Skyrim has enough heathens to keep her busy for a long while, and they'll likely kill her eventually."  His voice turned suspicious.  "Why?  What do you care for the little sow?"

"Only curious, sire.  I haven't seen Her Highness since she was a child.  She must be very brave."

Motierre made a bored noise, then returned to pouting.  "Come here, my little lotus flower.  What are you doing looking at those dusty old shelves?"

Maggie had been inspecting a curio cabinet filled with gifts from foreign ambassadors, and would just as soon have stayed there.  Nevertheless she approached the bed slowly, walking around the canopy posts so that the emperor could see her, then not see her, and then see her again.  Her shift was made of sea silk from Alinor, fabulously rare.  Even the Altmer at the ball that night had gaped in envy.  The fabric was so light that Maggie felt she was already naked.  It was a pale cream color but had a marvelous quality with light, as well, tricking the eye to see soft coral and green as she moved.  The front panels crisscrossed low between her breasts, and the back drape stopped just short of the rise of her backside.

The emperor caught her hand when she drew near the bed and pulled her to him. "I'm surrounded by idiots and traitors, and even you are cool towards me.  Have I not given you what every woman in the empire would kill to have?"

"You are very good to me, Excellency.  I don't deserve it."

"No, you don't.  I've got an empire to run and rebellious provinces to subdue, I haven't got time to chase you down every time I want you."  He laid his head down against Maggie's shoulder, and she cradled him against her arm like a sick child.

"I'm here now, my emperor, Maggie replied softly, kissing his temple.  "I'm yours."

"Yes, you are."  Despite his complaints, the emperor's tone was meek, and he seemed more hurt than angry.  His hand moved towards her breast, playing at the edge of the fabric.

Maggie prepared herself calmly.  She might use magic on other lovers, but the protective wards in the palace limited that, and with Motierre she had to be very careful.  He did not even like her to heal herself, at least until he was satisfied.  Maggie had soon learned why his other mistresses fled him.  A normal woman could not long have endured his affection.  Tonight he seemed subdued, however.  Maybe she would only have to master the disgust.  That she had learned to cope with long ago, training her body to respond to it as if it were pleasure.

Motierre's hand wormed its way under the fabric of her gown and he groped at her for a moment, grunting softly.  Voice trembling with excitement. he whispered, "Get my razor."

Not a gentle night after all.  It would be a shame about the sea silk.

It's always nice when your writing gets reinforced by the canon after you come up with it.

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Maggie and Witchie

4E 40
Western Jerall Mountains
Before dawn
 

In the desolate, snow-decked rises of the Jerall Mountains, three figures navigated the tundra slopes and frozen ravines under the watching eyes of the two moons.  The only other witnesses were the occasional snow bear or wild goat.  They used ice hooks and ropes, though one of them would occasionally levitate a short distance rather than climb.

As they crested a rise, this figure pulled back her hood and looked across the valley towards a massive, blackened structure on the next hill over.

"There it is," Maggie said to her companions, exhilarated.  "It's beautiful."

One of the nightblades stepped next to her and gave her a sidelong glance.  "Beautiful?  It's a gate to hell."

"Exactly.  Such power.  And gates such as these gave rise to heroism all across Tamriel.  Even my father had his taste of it."

Fourty years earlier, Magdela's father had taken a few household guards and gone through that portal to destruction.  No one in the Heartlands even knew this place existed.  The legion had been fully occupied with saving Bruma, and in any case the Bathory family did not want soldiers traipsing around so near their northern keep.  Word had spread even to them, however, of how the Hero of Kvatch had gone into an Oblivion gate, taken the stone from its tallest tower, and in so doing had closed the portal.

Only Lord Bathory emerged from this gate alive, clinging to the sigil stone.  Some daedra were trapped outside when the gate closed, and when they attacked him, he was forced to flee, leaving the stone behind.  It was now Magdela's task to recover it, if she could.  A test.  Darius Bathory himself was in Cyrodiil, on some mission of import to Lord Vile, he had said.  The two nightblades were sent both as guards and to make sure that Maggie didn't do anything stupid.

"My lady, we must keep moving," one of these said to her.  "It will be light soon."

"Quite right.  But we won't be blundering around looking for this bauble under every rock."  Maggie reached a hand up and cast the diagnostic spell her father had taught her.  Off in the distance, about a half hour's trek north of the gate, she saw the faint answering glimmer.  "That way."

When they drew closer, the trio found that the glimmer was coming from an old collapsed ruin.  Maggie cast the spell again, and her brow knit.  "Strange.  There is daedric power here, but also something else.  Let us proceed cautiously.  Some of those daedra may still be around, too, for all we know."

When they reached the ruins they saw a man, dressed in black, slightly torn, hooded robe walking across what must have been an old courtyard. He wore some kind of steel plate gauntlets and had a stalhrim sword at his side. As the man was facing to the side so they couldn't see the face because of the hood. The man suddenly stopped, a second after they had spotted him, and turned his head towards them. Even though with the sun in the horizon, giving some light over the ruins and them man, his face was still covered in shadow. 

"Travelers?" the robed man said, sounding a bit surprised but also quite indifferent. 

Maggie halted in her steps, cursing her lack of caution after she had just been counseling it.  The figure looked to be some sort of necromancer.  They were drawn to such lonely places, the farmers of the dead.  Disgusting creatures.  Still, he did not yet seem hostile, as most hedge wizards were, who would attack without so much as a good morning.

"Simply tourists," she answered in a light tone.  "You, as well, good sir?  Or have you made your home here?"

"No, my home is in the north of Skyrim. What brings you here?" 

There was no point in not being honest, at least about this.  "We are searching for daedric artifacts.  A hobby for many adventurers since the Crisis, near places like this.  Have you seen any such things about?"

"I found and killed an imp not too far from here. But no artifacts." 

Maggie kept her tone casual.  "Ah.  We'll just have a look around then, if you will excuse us."

Without a word the robed man headed off in the direction he was walking towards earlier, before he had stopped to chat. He took a turn behind a broken wall and was out of sight. 

Maggie exchanged a look with her guards, then shrugged.  Tamriel was full of such odd creatures.  She started forward, but paused, and cast a detect life spell in the direction the wizard had disappeared.  His receding form was visible.  A mortal, then, though his appearance had almost made her think otherwise.

She and her guards picked their way slowly through the tumbled ruin, looking for an entrance.  They were forced to burn and then clear away some frozen rubble, but eventually found a doorway and descended a crumbled stair into the underkeep of what Maggie assumed had been an old Nord fortress.

The nightblades dispatched rats and imps in the upper chambers, and the trio continued to descend.  There they found some ghosts lingering, which Maggie killed with fire spells.  They were drawing near to the place where her diagnostic spell indicated some sources of power, one daedric and another unknown.  Now they could hear activity, spell casting and the unnatural voices of daedra.  Maggie and her guards spread out.  She donned a cloak spell and led them through the entrance.

The room was round and had edged pillars along the walls, rising up to a dome-like roof where a small crystal as big as a man's head could be seen. The crystal was round in its general shape but with an edged surface. In the crystal flame-like swirls were visible, mixing both dark blue and hot red.  Along the walls were banners, all black, some torn, while a few still remained in a good enough condition to see the symbol on them. The symbol was three spikes on a red field, the center spike straight while the others jutted out to the side.  It was reminiscent of the head of a trident or some kind of crown. 

In the middle of the room was the dark round sigil stone, Maggie's prize.  It floated in the air, a dark red pillar of light going up from it towards the crystal in the roof.  Nearby, a dremora lord was swinging his large daedric axe at the robed man she had seen before.  The man quickly dodged the attack and tried to counter with his stalhrim blade. The rest of the room was almost in full chaos as lots of other daedra fought.  Two of these were large frost atronachs that seemed to fight for the robed man.

At her quiet signal, Maggie's guards sprang into action and began to the battle the nearest daedra, killing a flame atronach who had been busy tossing fireballs at the wizard's frost summons, then moving on to a more difficult target, a clannfear.

Meanwhile Maggie, still cloaked, levitated above everyone's heads and reached out for the sigil stone.  The distraction the wizard had provided her was too useful to pass up.  She might steal the sigil stone and be gone before any of the daedra were the wiser.  Her guards could fend for themselves.

As she grasped the sigil stone, the red column of light flickered out, and Maggie's cloak spell began to falter as it took all her concentration to levitate back to the ground.  A spider daedra noticed her and turned, sending one of its hideous children flying towards her with paralysis poison in its fangs.  When the poison hit her, Maggie tensed and dropped the sigil stone, but a moment later recovered herself.

"You will regret that," she told the spider matron with a smile.  A kick sent the spiderling flying into the wall, then Maggie drew on her mana reserves and cast a dominate spell on the larger daedra.  The spider matron shuddered and slowly, against her will, turned and began to attack a dremora lord.

The dremora lord and the wizard was locked in a power struggle with their weapons, both holding their weapons with both their hands while trying to push the other one out of balance. The darts from the spider daedra didn't even penetrate the thick daedric armor but it provided a distraction that the wizard quickly utilized and tipped the balance and shoved the pommel of his sword into the face of the dremora. The daedra staggered backwards for a moment and before it could regain balance the stalhrim blade pierced his throat, going so deep that a third of the blade was sticking out from the back of the neck.

He then pulled out the blade as blood flowed forth from the wound, and then conjured up a third frost atronach before placing himself directly under the crystal and raised his left and empty hand towards it. A beam of light, or rather darkness, shot out from the hand and went into the crystal, the flame-like swirling in it became more intense as the blue in it started to get an upper hand. 

Maggie had already blended back into the shadows of the room, observing the fight with one eye and searching for the sigil stone with the other.  It had rolled against a side wall.  By the time she retrieved it, one of her nightblades was dead, and the other was attacking the spider daedra whose will had returned to her own.

She  knew that she should get out while she could.  That was what her father would have done.  It was probably what he had done on the day he closed the Oblivion gate, using his doomed guards as distraction while his illusion powers allowed him to slip past unseen.  This room intrigued her however, as did the crystal on the domed ceiling.  She observed the wizard draw power from it.  What if there was something even more valuable here than the sigil stone?  The fact that fleeing unseen is what her father would have done added to Maggie's resolve not to do the same.

Still keeping to the shadows, she waited until her mana recovered, then cast a banish spell on a fire atronach, who disappeared in a yellow flash.  Her spell was not powerful enough for the last dremora who remained, however.  That was a kynreeve battlemage who had joined the spider daedra in attacking Maggie's guard.  She cast rally on the nightblade, then silenced the kynreeve.  The creature would not be able to use any spells, forced to melee weapons.

The crystal soon shattered into thousands of smaller pieces that rained down to the floor. The mage lowered his arm, and Maggie could see that he was both greatly invigorated of what he had done and relieved that it was over. He calmly walked towards the last dremora. The nightblade guard dodged an attack from the big spider and accidentally bumped into the mage which quickly grabbed him by the neck and used the guard as a shield as the spider sent several darts towards them. The guard became stiff and the mage simply tossed him to the side as he had served his use and then sent three ice spears in retaliation, the spider daedra wasn't able to dodge the incoming threat and was pinned to the wall, legs continued to twitch for a couple of seconds after it was impaled. The dremora battle mage tried in a desperate attempt to swing his staff into the head of the dark mage, but the attempt failed as the wizard grabbed the staff with his left hand, swung his sword in a vertical angle, severing the head from the dremora's body. The rest of the battle was beginning to subside as the frost atronachs killed or routed the remaining hostile daedra. 

Her last guard dead, Maggie realized her peril, but could not resist the opportunity to learn who this mage was, and what the power source he had drawn upon consisted of.  Its magic felt different than any she had yet encountered.

Sigil stone still in her arms, she spoke from the shadows.  "Most impressive.  You have a command I have not yet seen in mortal mages.  May I learn your name, stranger?"

"My name is not important."  The mage threw a blue ball of light towards her position, illuminating and revealing her, "Who are you?" 

Maggie's hands moved quickly to dispel the magelight.  A moment later, however, she stepped closer and into the more subtle light of the crystal shards, and drew back her hood.  She appeared to be a young woman in the prime of freshness and beauty, with the height of a Nord, but more refined features.  Her hands were empty.

"I sought the sigil stone.  It is of some interest to my family.  You are not simply an adventurer here, that much is plain.  What is this place?  What was the crystal in its ceiling?  Not Ayleid or Dwemer make."

"It was built by the ancient nords," the mage said as he cleaned off the blood from his sword with a little magic before sheathing it, "This was one of their southern outposts. The crystal is a power source created to power some this place's magical defenses, among other things."

"And the daedra were no doubt using it to try to create a doorway back to their lord's realm.  Poor foolish creatures.  Its power helped them to remain on this plane, but without other substances they needed, it was not enough to return them to Oblivion."  She stepped around, trying to get a look at the man's face.  "You are a Nord?  Your speech is strange."

"I'm a nord, mal vahdin."

Maggie tilted her head, recognizing the phrase he used draconic, of which she knew a little.  In her years of isolation she had had little to do but learn such esoteric things.   She glanced at the shards at her feet and stooped to pick one of them up.  The magicka in it glowed softly in her hand.  It was beautiful, the purest magic she had ever seen.  Returning her eyes to the wizard, her mind turned over what she knew of him.  He seemed perfectly at ease in the ruin, and had found this room before she had, probably from some hidden entrance.   He had manipulated the crystal with the same familiarity, and he spoke a Nord tongue long dead to anyone but ancient families like hers.

"You said this was one of their southern outposts.  Don't you mean one of yours?"

"What makes you think that?" 

"You are not just any Nord, and you know this place.  You knew what it was, and how to manipulate this crystal.  It's what you came for?"

"I've been to more outposts like this one. They all have the same basic layout and same kind of crystals. And yes, I came for the crystal." 

Maggie considered this reply.  "Let me see your face."

"My face is of no importance either." 

"And yet you wanted to see mine.  I assume that was what your spell was intended to reveal."

The sigil stone came rolling out of the shadows before stopping at Maggie's feet, "You got what you came for. Why linger?" 

Maggie sighed theatrically.  "Wizards.  They always make such poor company.  You will not hinder me, then?  The sigil stone is of no interest to you?"

"No, I will not stop you. But I wonder, who are you?" 

Smiling a little, she answered, "It isn't important, remember?  For your help with the stone, however, I give my name freely.  I am Magdela.  If we meet again, how shall I address you?  It would be a pity to have to say 'the Nord from the ruin.'"

"What is your family planning on doing with the stone?" 

"This?"  She kicked at the stone thoughtfully.  "They are supposed to have some virtue in enchantments.  In truth it is just a collector's item.  The others have been traded across Tamriel by now, and there are few left.  I suspect whatever the daedra were doing to this one has sapped most of its magical power."

"Well I'll be going then. I suggest you follow if you don't remember the way," he said before he started walking towards one of the hallways. 

Maggie looked after the wizard, noting that he still hadn't answered her question.  His lack of interest in her was reassuring though at the same time disappointing.  She had been locked away for decades with only the same few people for company.  The isolation chafed at her even as she recognized its necessity.  Her father had certainly not expected she would find anyone here, or he'd never have sent her on this errand.

Another chance to learn more about the mysterious figure convinced her to follow him.  She picked up the stone, and spared barely a glance back at the bodies of her guards on the way out.

When they reached the place around which she remembered fighting some ghosts, one of them appeared walking towards them. But it didn't even seem hostile, instead it stepped to the side of the corridor and saluted the mage. 

"Witch-king." the ghost said as the mage passed and gave her a quick nod and said; "Mistress." when she passed. After that the ghost just continued down the hallway.

Maggie passed the ghost, her brow raised.  The ghost recognized him.  So her guess had been right, the wizard did belong to this place, though more personally than even she had supposed.  She understood a little of the old Nord dialect, enough to recognize the name "Witch king."  She filed it away, wondering if her father might know the reference.

The Nord had disappeared down another corridor and she had to hurry to keep up.  "A king?" she asked curiously as she approached him again.

"One of the greatest. Older than Ysgramor. And not even remembered as a myth today," he said with a voice that made him sound so distant.

Maggie paused in her steps again.  He could be lying, of course.  She glanced around, wondering if it was possible that her father had created an illusion to trick her.  After a moment she dismissed the notion as not even within Darius Bathory's capabilities.

If what the man said was the truth, that brought up even more questions.  Stepping quickly after him, she asked, "Why do you linger here, Greater-than-Ysgramor?"

"What?" the man sounded like he had just woken up, "I'm just rambling."

Maggie followed silently for some time, weighing all of this.  She glanced back towards the hallway they had passed through, and cast a detect dead spell.  The faint traces of the ghost were still visible.  If it was all an illusion, then it was a trick from her family's own play book.

Turning her eyes forward, she saw that the spell did not affect the wizard.  He was definitely not a specter himself.

As they neared the surface, sunlight began to filter in through the broken walls above.  Because of her clan's gift, it did not harm her, but she had a long journey ahead, alone, and had not fed in some time.  Hanging back, she called after the wizard.  "I can find my way now.  I wish to rest here a while before I journey on.  Thank you for your help."  Maggie paused, then added, "Sire."

"As you wish, but you should rest elsewhere as there are still daedra that lurk in these ruins." 

"I'll be fine, thank you.  This has been a most interesting chance meeting."  She would have a lot to write about later, and that was far more reward than the stone.  Her stories were a means to fend off the boredom and loneliness, but even the company of her own thoughts had grown dull of late.

Possibly, however, there was still more here to be told.  When she was sure that the man was gone, Maggie retraced her steps back to where they had left the spirit, leaving the sigil stone behind.

"Soldier," she addressed the ghostly figure, trying to make her voice confident though she was not even sure of the words she said in the ancient language.  "The king is gone, but I am to make a report of how things stand at this outpost.  What can you tell me?"

"A mistress making reports? And I thought that the king showing up this south without the army was odd." The ghost made short pause, "Well the raids into the elven lands has gone well enough. We have a couple of prisoners to send back to the capital. Our scouting tells that the elves are trying to fortify their northern border but I doubt they would dare march another army over it while the king still sits on the throne. A few Wraiths arrived yesterday to check up on the power source in the inner sanctum. You'll have to speak with them about that though as they're the only ones allowed in there. Other than that it's mostly quiet and boring around here, hopefully I'm allowed to join the next raiding party."

Anger flashed in Maggie's eyes at the ghost's assumption of who she was, but she quelled it.  This ancient king had had mistresses, and even his men had known it.   No doubt the ghost heard her poor speech and assumed her some lower Nedic foreigner, a lowborn amusement.

Deciding to use the assumption to her advantage, she softened her tone.  "Very good, soldier.  I am pleased to hear there is so little trouble in the area.  The elves tremble at the very sound of the king's name."  She paused, wondering if she could contrive some way to make the ghost reveal that name.  Caution was needed, however.  She didn't want to battle a ghost who believed she was an impostor or spy.  Perhaps he would let it slip if he relaxed.

With sympathy in her voice, she asked, "Are there no women at this outpost to ease your boredom?  Or have you a wife somewhere?"

"No women around here. And I had a girl I fancied back when I was stationed back in the capital. But that was before I had my little accident and got relocated here."

"Accident?"

"It was a late night with my friends in the royal citadel guards and I had had a little too much to drink. On the way home I accidentally knocked a lantern down and started a fire near the stables. A fire broke out, but luckily a few mages was near to quell the fire before it spread or burned down the whole stable. A few horses died, including the captain's horse. You should have seen his reaction. But anyway, when he found out I was responsible I was relocated here so he could be rid of me. I bet he's hoping the elves will get me, that or the boredom."

"You poor thing.  Over the death of a horse?  Surely the gods will grant you a chance to prove your valor.  If you guarded the citadel, then the king may remember you.  I should tell him your story."

"Don't bother. I'd rather stay here till things have calmed down back in Iizdu''ul or get transferred to another city, which I have already requested. And I doubt the king would remember me. The only soldiers he pays any attention to are those who seek to join his personal elite."

"And you do not want to join this 'royal elite'?  Why not?"  She used the phrase carefully, unsure of what it meant.

"Too much work for me. And I'm not skilled enough with magic to join the Wraiths. These guys know how to handle the sword better than nearly everyone in the land, and even if I managed to reach their skill in the blade, I would still need equally great skill in magic. They're called Wraiths for a reason, they only need to show up to strike fear into the heart of the Witch-king's enemies. And you also need to be fiercely loyal to the king. And then if you pass all the tests you're taken into his personal inner sanctum to undergo some kind of initiation. From what I've heard he uses some kind of magic to increase their power even greater. And once you've gone so far you're in for life. I haven't heard of a Wraith retiring and getting a family. And I actually aim to do that one day." 

Maggie's mind moved nimbly to try to catch all the words the man was saying, wishing that she had paid more attention to the library's dusty tomes.  This was a spoken vernacular and different, yet she understood the gist, that the king used powerful magicks and valued spellcraft in his close subjects.  The ghost had still not revealed any name other than this strange title.

Realizing that she was pushing her luck and needed to be away, Maggie smiled and said, "That, too, is a noble task.  I wish you happiness, and no more fires."

As she was a few paces away, she stopped.  The entire strange conversation had made her forget that this ghost's ambitions would never be realized and were likely holding him in this forgotten ruin. It seemed to Maggie very sad.  Turning, she summoned magicka and launched a fireball at the ghost, hoping that despite the irony, he would find peace in a second death.

Some time later, Maggie emerged from the old ruin, cloaked herself, and disappeared into the wilds of the Jeralls.

 

***

 

There was one figure to whom her movements were not hidden.  He watched her leave, then observed the campsite of the Nord wizard to make sure that she was neither followed, nor that she sought the wizard out any longer.

Satisfied that his daughter was on her way back to their keep, Darius Bathory followed her at a distance.  Hidden, he had watched her during the entire journey.  She was not in her full power and he would never entrust one of his bloodline to two mere nightblade guards, but Magdela must be made to feel secure that he had.  Though there actually was reason to travel to the Heartlands, Bathory had no interest in Minister Hierem's mad schemes, even if he did claim to be in the service of Clavicus Vile.  Darius had in fact helped set things into motion which he hoped would preserve the young Mede empire from whatever the grasping Nibenean was planning.  Then he had followed his daughter to the site of his old Oblivion gate adventure.

The wizard had been a surprise, but Darius spared him only enough attention to ensure he was no threat.  Magdela was the one who collected small bits of information about people like a child hoarding bugs and pretty rocks.  Her curiosity and innocence were dangerous, as was her ambition.  The magic proficiency was coming along, but what Bathory observed convinced him that she was not anywhere near ready.  She had exposed herself to harm, had even revealed her true name to this Nord relic.

Her exile, and his own, would have to go on, perhaps for a very long time yet.

It's always nice when your writing gets reinforced by the canon after you come up with it.

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Maggie and Samuel
Imperial City
During the siege of Falkreath


It was an hour when, even in the capital, most citizens were at home in their beds.  Magdela slipped out from the palace and walked home, taking a long route to clear her head.  A thug appeared from an alley and brandished a knife at her.  She gave him a casual look and the man stopped in his tracks, seized by a sudden fear for his own life.  He wanted to run, but found that the only muscles that still worked were the ones in his throat, and these had begun to constrict.  When the would-be mugger found that he could move again, Maggie had rounded the next corner.  Rather than pursue her, he fled, gibbering.

Maggie's house in the Elven Gardens District was lit by dim lamps.  The door guard reported nothing out of the ordinary.  She went to her room and changed into a dressing gown, and hungrily refreshed herself from the locked cabinet.  Afterward she went downstairs to the little kitchen where the maid had left out some food on her daily afternoon visit.  Maggie ignored the food, instead going down to the stairs to the wine cellar and retrieving a small bottle of muscat from Camlorn.

With her glass of wine in hand, she walked out to the walled garden behind the house.  It had been laid out with fragrant vines on the high walls, a fountain pool with a stone trellis in Akaviri style, and a table and chairs.  Night-blooming flowers from the far corners of Tamriel glinted in the shards of moonlight that made it through the space above.  This was Maggie's favorite place in the city.  Here, she could put aside all masks.

She took a seat at the table with glass in hand, and shook out her hair, sighing.  After a moment she sensed that she was not alone after all.  There was only one kind of person capable of intruding on her here.  "Good evening," she said to the nameless, faceless presence.  "You could have knocked."

"I did," the stranger replied and appeared by one of the bushes. He was dressed in a dark outfit. Not something any nobleman would wear to make an impression, as it was quite simple, but she could see the excellent tailoring. It was clearly specially made for him and anyone with a good eye would turn a head. He stood with his back to her. "I chose not to conceal my presence here, did I not?"

He turned around and gave her a friendly smile. He had dark brown hair, a mature, if a bit pale, face and green eyes. "My name is Samuel. May I be so bold as to say that it is a pleasure to meet the famous Magdela Bathory in person? I am an... admirer, of sorts."

"Samuel?"  Maggie mentally riffled through names and faces, but it was no use trying to place him. "Thank you, Samuel.  I hear sincerity in your voice.  Such a rare quality in this city.  Please, sit.  Will you have a glass of wine?  I'll go fetch the bottle."

"No, but thank you for the offer.  I prefer to keep my head clear, at all times," with a few quick steps he had moved over to the chair closest to her and taken a seat. "Sincerity is indeed a rare quality in this city, and one I fear I do not sense in you at this moment. You are more interested in why I am here- not to mention how I so easily passed by your professionally trained nightblades- than talking to a random admirer. I know you and your ways too well to not see that."

He put extra emphasis on the word "random", but talked with the same friendly and sincere voice, as if it was just a meeting with an old friend. The smile remained as well. Nothing about him, with the exceptions of what he actually said, would ever arise suspicion, even to her. 

"I appreciate all of my admirers, especially the random ones.  Their love is freely given.  What could I ever mean to them, except a few moments respite from toil and trouble?  Yet they and I can share a bond in the page closer than that of their own families."  She paused and smiled. "But I accept that you are not such a person, Samuel, and your admiration not so simple.  What can I do for you?"

"Poetic, but we both know that is not entirely true, now is it, Maggie? May I call you Maggie? You seem more like a Maggie than a Magdela to me. Anyway, I see your lessons in proper manners weren't wasted, though your affiliations with the Thalmor may be something of a problem in the coming years. If I were you, I'd reconsider your plans. They are... more ambitious than what one of your station should attempt in these turbulent times."

Maggie sipped at her wine, unruffled.  "I have been very discerning in my choice of contacts with our elven friends, as you will know, since you seem to be well informed about me.  Every noble and would-be noble in the empire is courting their favor, this is nothing unusual.  And you may of course call me Maggie.  Tell me, Samuel, do you know my father?  Is he well?"

"Yes, your father has quite the debt to me. If he weren't an old friend, Skingrad may have had very empty coffers.  But... I haven't met with him in years.  Not since the time you were sent to High Rock.  Do you remember me?  I stood in the crowd that so cheerfully sent you on your way, right behind you father."

Samuel pulled out a small bottle from inside his jacket and took a quick sip.  The smell was more than familiar, she had been intimate with it a number of times.

"Of course every noble has some contact with our elven friends, but this is not quite the same.  We both know what I refer to; a certain someone who is very positive to their influence in the Empire.  Someone you spend a notable amount of time with."

Maggie glanced at the bottle, then looked away, thoughtful.  After a moment she gave a little laugh, but there was no mirth in it.  Rather it sounded wistful, even sad.  "Since you stand behind my father, let us cut through the pretense, shall we?  I might have known from your disapproving words who sent you here.  I am only doing what he taught me to do. He would set me on a path and then put blocks in my way when I try to follow it.  But, for curiosity's sake, let's hear it.  What is Count Skingrad’s will today?"

"Oh, do not mistake my words for that of your father’s. These are my own, though to someone as young as you, they would be indistinguishable.  I do not disapprove of your plans, merely offering advice.  You have many others who will be affected by your decisions, after all. Which brings me to the reason I am here..."

He sat back in a relaxed position, resting his head against three fingers on his hand. "Your relationship with the Emperor Motierre is a considerable risk, for us all.  Our mutual associates have decided that someone who has proved to be a master in the arts of caution is to be involved in your life from now until they decide you are able to act without this individual."  A satisfied grin overtook Samuel's face for a split second.  "Me, that is. Your books have been enough to risk expulsion.  If your father was not the man he is... Safe to say, your head would have been on the wall of some collector."

Maggie's manner turned colder.  "I am well aware of the risks.  I made mistakes, but I have paid for them, and no one else."  She considered Samuel a moment, then straightened.  "Fine.  I am to have a chaperone.  I'm afraid if you want to watch my work with Motierre, you'll have to find your own way in to his bedchamber.  Our dear emperor has rare tastes, but so far an audience hasn't been one of them."

"No need for me to go to the bedchambers, now is there?  After all, you have access and you will tell me what I need to know when I need it.  But... you underestimate the consequences of your actions.  Your mistakes cost three people their lives, three people you never even met.  Three people who would be considered your family.  And these mistakes were not even the worst you could have made in those situations.  In any other context, they wouldn't even have been considered to your detriment."

Samuel remained friendly, despite Maggie's turning manners. "Let me cut to my perspective of this situation: You are risking not only your own protection, but that of your entire family.  A single step set of the narrow edge that is your life and Skingrad will have a new count.  There is a tale, from Morrowind, about an elf who went too high into the skies.  He fell to his death."

The news of three deaths appeared to be new information for her, and Maggie blinked once.  The shunning she had received from some of her own kind, always assumed to be envy or her father's doing, suddenly appeared in different light.  She recovered, however, and her tone remained firm.  "What is too high?  Is Count of Skingrad too high?  You and my father, you want to hide in the shadows and hoard your power like a child with its trinkets."

"Your family has proved to be trusted with the title of Count, for now," Samuel didn't seem to notice her attempted insult or bait. "Too high is when someone makes mistakes that have consequences.  Someone who is not skilled enough to do it properly, attracting too much attention.  In other words, you trying to go beyond your station is too high."

He paused for a moment, before he continued. "And you do this under the guard of someone as reckless as you are."

 "My station is not the issue.  Don't believe that I rate myself more highly than is proper.  We have an opportunity, that is all.  One that I am buying us at great cost, I might add."  She stopped, pondering his last words.  "One as reckless as I am?  I don't understand your meaning."

"An opportunity not worth gambling on." Samuel didn't say anything more, he just looked at her, waiting for her to continue.

"Is that simply your...advice, as you called it?  Or the judgment of others, as well?"

"Advice," Samuel replied, still just as friendly as he had been when they first started to talk. "My trade is information, and something tells me that our current emperor will follow in the footsteps of our last one."

"You mean to say that Motierre's days are numbered.  That could be true of any emperor."  She waited, testing to see if he had specific information.

"Indeed, that is true.  Still, I'd be careful around him.  Many people want him dead, people who might be able to pull it off."

"I'm very cautious with Motierre.  The man is unpredictable on his best days, more like a Septim than a Mede.  You said you haven't seen my father.  Are you aware of the requests I sent to him?"

"Yes, I am aware. As I said, information is my trade. Why?"

Maggie sighed in frustration.  "Then perhaps you know his answer.  I can guess what it is, but he might at least reply to one of my letters."

"I know what his answer will be, but I also know that he is still making up his mind.  He knows to take this seriously, if nothing else.  I also know that you are leaning in favor of doing it, regardless of what he or I or anyone else says. You are ambitious, perhaps too much."

"Do you think I want that monster's child inside me?†She stopped, realizing that she was letting emotion get the better of her.  More calmly she went on, "It is fruit ripe for the picking.  Motierre hated his first wife, and despises her children.  He is practically begging me to give him another heir.  If I succeed, he will set Venusa aside and marry me, I am sure of it.  Whatever you think of me, do not suppose I covet that life.  It is only the power I care about, the influence.  Is that not what we live for?"

"It seems I may have overestimated your understanding of simple grammar, my dear Lady.† It was hard to say how, but the insult was no less friendly than he had been so far.  It didn't even sound like an insult. Most people wouldn't even have noticed that it was. "I did imply in the way I phrased it that I did see that you did it for power.  But... if this is enough to make you lose your control, I am more worried than I thought I would be."

Maggie bore the insult and the correction both, serene once again.  "Another of my faults, as my father no doubt can tell you.  We all have our talents, Samuel, and with each of them comes a cost.  The cost of mine is exposure, and the fact that I cannot close myself off to emotion as others have luxury to do.  Even the mortal mind is not so easily fooled.  There is no charm spell more powerful than a genuine smile."

"I would have to agree with you, but maybe you don't have the talents needed for your plans.  I'd be more careful than you are now in the future.  There are rumors about you, the sort that spread through the less known circles of the world.  My circles.  More than once have friends redirected a gaze meant for you. The mortal mind is not so easily fooled, as you say, and now a group of Vigilants have turned fanatical regarding vampires.  And after what happened in Skyrim, I cannot say I blame them.  They are led by a man even I would be careful to cross path with, Trym Heart-Hand.  Fiercely cunning and brutal, and I suspect he has something to do with the deaths tied to your mistakes.  He has taken an awful lot of interest in us."

"Hunters."  Maggie spat out the word.  She sat back in her chair, regarded Samuel a time, then inclined her head.  "I thank you for the warning, guardian.  For now I will try to keep Motierre's affections without the incentive of a child.  He will tire of me soon, however.  Our window is short."  She paused before going on, "You know the most intimate things about me, yet I still know nothing about you.  That's not fair, is it?"

"I do, you don't and I agree that that is hardly fair," he let out a small laugh and smiled at her again. "But the world is not fair, now is it? But... I'll humor you for a while, now that I know you won't act irrationally just yet."

"Did you think I was so rash?  I'm not a fool."  Taking a sip of her wine, she gestured at him with the glass.  "Shall I make it a game?  A guessing game.  You are obviously trusted.  Old.  You don't often make mistakes that require checking up after.  But you deal in whispers, which means you have enemies, too.  Not of the sort like this Trym Heart-Hand, rather people who do not thank you for showing them their ugly truths.  Isn't that so?"

"Vague, meant to bait me into asking the questions to myself for you. A true nobles courtesy."  He seemed amused. "I am indeed old. As old as the Empire itself. When I was still a child, a warlord from Alcaire who went by the name of Talos, crowned himself Emperor under the name of Tiber Septim."

He stopped for a moment and for the first time it seemed like he chose his words carefully. "Whispers need a source and I am that source. But the source is hidden by the mask and the mask is ever changing, ever evolving. The ones who disapprove of the truth seek their life hunting the mask as it appeared to them."

"Of course you do not just trade information.  You make truth, not just reveal it."  Maggie seemed animated by the game, something close to her trade in creating stories.  "People take the information you give them and create a different reality.  It is... it must be beautiful.  To see all the possibilities, and to choose which one you will bring to life."

"The truth," Samuel started, but paused for a few seconds before he started over. "The truth is, and will remain, the same as it has always been; beyond the grasp of most all in this world.  I do my best to reveal it when I can, only to have them wrap it around and use it to strengthen their lie.  Sometimes that lie shatters and the mask is imprinted in their memory."

"And do you even know yourself, master of whispers, what is the truth and what is the lie?  Do you even remember what you were called when Tiber Septim was a boy?"

"Truth.  Lies.  Fact.  Fiction.  Eye of the Beholder.  Names.  So... personal. Identity.  Self.  Masks.  Does that answer your question?"

Maggie laughed.  "Not at all.  Are you always this guarded, or is it my reputation which has made you so?"

"I dare say it is my turn, at this game.  So..." he let out a small chuckle to what she said.  "You tell me.  Is this how I always am, or is it your reputation?  I am sure that someone of your intellect can give a satisfactory answer."

"You’ve not lived this long, or had so much success, by giving up your secrets for free," Maggie answered, placing her bet.  "You are always like this.  And I haven't earned anything from you yet to induce you otherwise.  Maybe we can be useful to each other still, though I admit that I don't welcome such close scrutiny."

"A fair point. Your gamble was worth it, it seems. I almost thought you would say it was because of you for a moment. Glad to see you were smarter than that. If nothing else, you know to take the flattering choice."

She stood, and walked a few paces around Samuel's chair.  Idly she touched a white moonflower that hung along the trellis.  "Do you like my garden?"

His gaze turned from her to the plants all around them. "It is beautiful, in all its irrelevance. The same can be said for you. Please, don't take that as an insult, it is not meant as one. I fear your usefulness to me is hardly notable. If it were, I would be here under different circumstances. But... I gave my word to your father all those years ago that I would be the one to step in if needed. Alas, all I expect as a thanks for this is a swift end to my journey."

Maggie's hand dropped.  Turning, she faced Samuel once more, her tone disappointed.  "Do you think I meant to seduce you?  I can forgive you for the suspicion.  That is my particular talent, or one of them, but it is not all that I am.  I wouldn't insult you so."

She glanced back at the flower and said, "I love them, as my mother does, yet they are more than empty beauty to me.  They are a reminder.  My mother will cut flowers so that they can be near to her, then she can't let them go.  It vexes her that they always die eventually, even with magic.  I am not like her.  I can let this opportunity with Motierre go, because I want to endure.  On the vine I have a chance to survive, and to come back even from seeming death.  Nevertheless the flower is about to bloom.  My father would hide me and let me wither.  Which is the greater risk, guardian?  To be cut down, or never to have a chance to flower at all?"

"Of course not, I know you know better than to try that. My point was, and remains, that you have nothing to offer me I don't already have. Only the thoughts that have never been uttered can be safe from me and even those I can make an educated guess on. All information you can acquire, I have other, more dependable ways to get a hold of. Every meeting you can arrange, I can get it done sooner. My age works to my advantage, I have contacts everywhere.  I worked my way up from nothing, and now I..."

He stopped. Who knew what his point would have been or what he was going to say? Then he smiled and turned back to her. "I am not the one who has to make that decision, Rose. All I am saying is that you need to watch where the sun shines and where the earth is richest. To plant your seed in the shadows and polluted soil..."

"Motierre is that," Maggie agreed with disgust.  "A vulgar, cowardly little man.  Probably insane.  Yet you see, this is what makes him easy to replace.  A son under my care could be seen as a savior.  Have we ever had that?  Not just moths circling around this or that emperor, but one of our own on the Ruby Throne?"

"You sound like Harkon, one of my... friends... in the north. This is what I mean when I say you are too ambitious. You will have placed the seed in rich earth and in the sun, but you forgot that the place you chose was on top of a mountain. The elements will destroy the new life before it can grow to be strong and enduring."

"Harkon.  The Volkihar?  Now you insult me, Samuel.  A crude sort, if what I have heard is true."  Maggie shook her head.  "I don't understand you and Father.  I suspect I never will.  No doubt this means I'll never have his confidence, like my dim brother and dull broodmare of a sister enjoy.  The glories of the Bathory family."   She gave a wry, bitter smile, and said, "I have heard your warnings and corrections, guardian.  If you have nothing else, I'd ask you to leave me.  Gardening is hard work, and I would like to rest."

"I will take my leave, for now. But before I do, I would like to point out that being compared to the Lord Harkon would never be an insult. Don't believe the talk of the Volkihar's savagery, they are lies spread from a storybook. He was a powerful and sophisticated man, until he tried to step into the light.  Heed my warning, Rose, for I speak of experience."

With one last smile and a small wink, he turned invisible again. She couldn't sense him this time, so it was hard to say when he had left.

Maggie waited for a long while, her eyes moving around the garden.  When she was reasonably sure that she was indeed alone, she sat heavily into the chair and leaned her head forward into her hand.  She sat like that some moments before straightening.  Her eyes were bright with tears, and she swiped angrily at the only one of them which escaped onto her cheek.

It was not Motierre who troubled her, nor any lover.  She drew the gaze of many a man, whether she wanted it or not.  There was one man, however, who would not look at her at all.  He had even sent someone else to transmit his disapproval.

Yet the man Samuel was not a common messenger.  This one was too powerful to simply be a minder.  Vanity wanted her to believe that this attention was merited because of her work with Motierre, but the man in her garden had spent a lot of time warning her.  A herd might be saved if the wolves could cut off one of the young from the rest.  What Maggie didn't know was whether Samuel was there to help her succeed, or to prepare her for sacrifice.

Maggie stood, and spoke aloud in case Samuel was still there to hear her.  "Let us see what we can do together, guardian.  I won't make it easy for you.  We would both be disappointed if I did."  She then turned and walked into the house.

"Yes, Rose, I would be very disappointed."

Samuel smiled and looked after her while she left, before he responded.  She, however, never heard what was said.

It's always nice when your writing gets reinforced by the canon after you come up with it.

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Witchie, Dales, Maggie
Dawn


The first light of dawn had just begun to shine in the horizon, the Imperial camp was quiet. Witchie had gotten up without waking the maids, gotten dressed and was now making his way to the princess tent. The sky was cloudy and the soft wind brought a smell of spring in the air. A subtle fog was laying bellow the trees in the still forests of Falkreath, the wildlife had yet to wake up or had already gone to bed. Witchie cast a spell on Dales tent, filling it with a roar of a dragon that could not be heard from the outside, otherwise it would wake the entire camp. 

Witchie could hear a scream from inside the tent, "WHAT IN OBLIVION?!?!?" Before long, clad in her usual pink frill dress was Dales Moitre. And she didn't have her usually dizzy face, instead it was slightly angry. "A princess needs her beauty sleep master, may I ask why you thought it okay to make the roar of a dragon in my tent?"

"Because I lack a real dragon and even if I did have a dragon under my command I don't want to wake up the entire camp. Anyway, get into your traveling gear, we're setting out for the Imperial City. Now." 

"Huh what?! The Imperial City? OH...so it's time?"

"I want to get there before word of what happened here does. I only remained to make sure both sides didn't mess up and to inflict as much casualties as possible to the Thalmor. So skip that dress, it's a long journey ahead."

Dales nodded, before running into her tent. She returned clad in her hunting garments and a blood red cloak, which had a hood attached.

"You ready?"

Witchie's horse appeared among the tents as it came walking towards them, without ever being visibly summoned. Witchie mounted the horse and put on his hood and veil. 

"Now I don't want to hear any 'Are we there yet?' along the way. Is that clear?"

"Fine...."

Dale climbed on top of the back of the horse and they set off. With Dales as his traveling companion the journey would take more time than if he had traveled alone. He usually used magic to put his body in a form awake coma so he could travel for long periods of time. And that wasn't a spell he could simply put on others.


***

They traveled east towards The Rift and had came about a mile into The Rift they turned south towards the Jerall Mountains, there was a small hidden road that lead into Cyrodiil, the one he had used to travel from the Synod to the imperial camp when he first became Dales teacher. When they finally arrived at the Imperial City, the sun had already begun to settle in the horizon as the night crept forward. Now they slowly rode through the streets of the Imperial City, towards the palace in the center of the city.

"Now I need to know what we'll be expecting in there." Witchie said.

"Marius's brother-in-law is the high captain of the imperial watch, Tullius got into contact with him, and convinced him to side with us. We have all the grey plated legionaries on our side. The palace guards, however... While there captain is loyal to my father, I befriended a great deal of them in my time in the palace, meaning some of them we can count on."

"I expect that this late he'll be in his private quarters, what people are allowed in there?"

"No one..."

"What people are allowed near his private quarters?" 

"The captain of the guard, his personal entourage, and the royal family... Ummmm...I don't think that would work master...my AHEM "preferences" are a rumor across the entire palace, all the servants and guards know it. If you said you were my bodyguard, that would most likely work."

"Wouldn't it raise suspicion if a stranger showed up as bodyguard and not one of their own men? Do you have any nordic cousins I can masquerade as?"

"I don't think... No wait... I have a half-cousin, Loki. He's big, and has a beard like your's."

"From your father's side? And you haven't seen him in years?"

"I think he was... yes he was on my father's side. I haven't seen him in four years."

"I hope that'll do. Anything I should know about him?"

"Nothing really...I met him at a ball. He asked me to dance, I of course had no interest in dancing with any of the men, so I politely turned him downed."

"Apart from your father, what else should to be disposed of?"

"I want you to kill my two brothers..." She looked away, and started to rub her arm, "There...just like my father. They'll be a burden to my rule if there still alive, and there terrible people that deserve to die...though, please... don't hurt my step-mother. And...I want you to let me handle my father."

"What about the guard captain that is loyal to your father? Is he going to be a problem?" 

"I should rephrase what I said. He's loyal to whoever's in power at the time, he served Titus II fatefully for many years. If my father dies and I'm crowned empress, he'll be loyal."

"If there's no one else that should be disposed of. What does your brothers look like, what are their names and where do they usually reside during this time of the day?" 

"Valarius, and Embrias, both have blonde hair. During the day there ever in the armory or there rooms. At night... they can usually be found at the Tiber Septim Hotel."

"And where exactly lies that place? Besides the palace?" 

"No, in the Talos Plaza district. It's the wealthy part of the imperial city."

"We should first take a trip to the palace and introduce Loki to the guards so they'll let me in later. Then we split up and you go off to find your father and I'll make your brothers a visit." 

"Okay then it's final... after today... no other imperial citizen will have to feel the pain of losing a loved one to the selfishness and greed of my father and the Dominion... today we reclaim the empire from the hands of monsters... are you ready Skjari?"

"Spare me the speech. And we're almost there." Witchie said as he saw the palace close in in the distance. When they got closer he pulled down the hood in order to not raise suspicion and so the guards could see and remember his face. 

"Wait here..." Dales said when they arrived. 

Dales left Witchie and waved her hand at the on duty guard. 

"Hey Roy!!!"

The guard blinked in surprise, before smiling, "Your highness Dales, it's been a long time!!!"

Dales returned the smile, "Quite, it has!!!"

They exchanged small talk for a few minutes before pointing over to "Loki".  She explained to Roy that he would be staying here for a little while, and he was to inform captain Anitdius that he was able to access the palace. Roy nodded, Dales added that she wanted to surprise her father, so she told him not to tell him she was here. He once again nodded. She left Roy, and went back to Witchie.

"It's taken care of." 

"I'll be off then." Witchie said as he turned the horse and slowly rode off to the Talos Plaza. 

As he rode through the streets he could see as the citizens were going home after a days work. Shops were closing, if they weren't closed already. The ambiance in the city was calm, like if the city was preparing itself to go to bed and fall asleep. The last light in the horizon was now almost completely gone as the stars came forth on the night sky that had stripes of clouds here and there. When he reached the Talos Plaza, he could see the big decorated sign declaring the location of Tiber Septim Hotel on one the more fancier buildings. Witchie had never been there himself, but he had heard that when the Dominion held the city they pillaged and destroyed much of that building. When the building had reopened shortly after the end of the war, it was no longer luxury enough to attract it's original customers. At some point the owner came up with the idea of turning the place into a brothel. With time the business became successful enough that it could get back it's old luxury that it had had before the war. But the brothel business remained as it brought in too much gold for the owner to shut it down and turn the place back to a hotel. 

Witchie rode up near the entrance before he dismounted. He looked at the facade slightly, which held detailed decoration and sculptures portraying delicious food in overflow and beautiful gardens women showed that this was one of the richer districts, before stepping forward and opening the door. The inside was even more luxury decorated than the facade of the building. The walls had carpets, with traditional and highly detailed patterns, hanging the walls. The corners had plants that had grown up the ceiling and had flowers here and there on the branches. The furniture was finely handcrafted, rich on details and topped with fluffy pillows made from the finest silks. On sofas and on the pillows on the floor sat beautiful women dressed in elegant yet rather revealing clothes. Here and there in the room could a nobleman be seen trying to get on with at least one of the ladies.

Right in front of the entrance was a desk and behind it was a woman in a dress, equally as elegant but not as revealing as to what the other ladies wore. Witchie walked straight up the counter. 

"Can I help you ?" the woman behind the counter said, while she gave him a look like she thought he didn't belong there. 

"I'm looking for Valarius and Embrias, I got an important message I have deliver to them." Witchie replied. 

"Well I guess I can take this message and deliver it to them. They are rather busy and would not like to be disturbed." 

"It's important that I deliver this message personally as it's rather sensitive." 

"Then you will have to wait till they are done. I can not give out client information to just anyone."

Witchie was now getting impatient. He started to, as subtly as he could, channel a charm spell into the woman, as fear would only raise suspicion. 

"It will be quick and no one will notice. And It's very important that they get this message as soon as possible." Witchie said with a rather pleading voice. 

"Well okay then." The woman finally gave in as the spell started to take effect, "Take the stairs up to the second floor, turn right and walk down the hallway. It's the sixth one the left." As Witchie was about to turn and walk toward the stairs the woman spoke again, this time in a more seductive tone, "And when you've delivered the message, maybe we can find an empty room and get to know each other better." 

"I'll think about. And thanks for the help." he said as started walking. 

Might have overdone the charm spell a bit. 

Witchie followed the instruction and took the stairs up to the second floor and walked down the right hallway. When he reached the sixth door he looked around, checking with detection spell to make sure that no one was looking and to make sure that the target room wasn't empty. So far no one was looking behind a corner at him and there were three people in the room he was about to break into. He cast the spell that would unlock the door, the lock wasn't that complicated and took almost no effort to unlock. Witchie then checked again to see if they inside had noticed that the door had been unlocked, but they seemed to be too busy to notice or, if they did notice, bother with it. Witchie put on the hood and veil and then cast the spells that rendered him invisible and completely silent. He slowly opened the door, just enough that he could slip in. When he was inside he slowly shut the door behind him. Both the brothers were busy with a single woman in the bed. Witchie then charged another spell, a spell to silent wall, door, floor, roof and windows of the room to prevent any sound from escaping. As he released it the invisibility fell, as casting the spell put too much pressure on the invisibility spell and maintaining the invisibility would drain more magicka than it would be worth, and one the brothers saw him and jumped out of the bed trying to reach for his dagger that lied on the bedside table. The man managed to grasp the hilt of the dagger before his lifeless body fell down on the floor with an ice spike sticking out the back of his head. The other brother managed to dodge the second ice spike that came flying towards him by throwing himself down on the floor. But before he could get up his back was filled shard of ice. The woman that was still laying on the bed without as much as a string on clothing on her body, looked in horror on the man that just killed the men she making love with less than a minute ago. She grew pale and after a few second of intense staring at the killer she fainted. 

At least I don't have to waste magicka on her.

Witchie then slowly opened the door and peeked outside to see if the hallway was clear. When had made sure that no one was watching he slipped out and used his magic to lock the door. He then made his way down the hallway, down the stairs and towards the exit. The woman behind the counter was busy with what looked and sounded like a drunk nobleman. She didn't notice him as he walked out the door. The last light of the sun in the horizon was now completely gone and now the only source of light in this night came from the lanterns and from the stars. The streets was quiet and just a few people were still out, most of them were guards patrolling the city. Witchie mounted his horse and started his ride back to the palace. 


***
 

"The root of the state is the emperor, not the nobility.  I ought to cut that minister's tongue out."

Maggie came around to the bed and handed the emperor his glass, tasting hers as she sat on the edge of the bed facing him.  She wore a tailored, white sun dress and silk slippers.  "Isn't the root of a state its people?"

Motierre snorted.  "Womanish notion."  He sipped suspiciously at the drink she handed him.  "What is this ditch water you're giving me?"

"Coconut wine from Lillandril, Sire.  Can you not taste the sun in it, the gentle coastal breezes?"  Anything but the mild sedative she had dosed.  Since Motierre had ordered her to move into quarters into the palace- doing so in front of his wife in order to humiliate them both- she had taken measures to make her nights more bearable.  It was easier to do since the fool had gruesomely executed his court mage a few weeks earlier, accusing him of conspiracy.  The wards around the palace were already weaker than they had been.

The Breton was still taking small sips.  The wine cost a kingly sum, and even the coarsest Cyrodiil farmer would have swooned at its purity.  He continued, less moodily, "Anyway the people cannot be the root of a state, because they're always dying off.  Their short miserable lives are only the root for their own graves.  An emperor, now, he can live forever.  I'm certainly going to.  I have the Synod and House of Whispers fighting over who'll get to perform the magicks."

"I thought you would do them yourself."

"I will, I will!" Amaund answered gleefully.  "But a man needs entertainment, doesn't he?"

"As you say, my emperor."

She saw him move and a moment later he had her by the hair, spilling her wine on the bed as he drew her to him and began to kiss her.  "A man... needs..." His tongue slid lustily into her mouth, and Maggie forced her facial muscles to relax from their instinctive grimace.  He hadn't had enough wine.  If this emperor were to live forever, something would have to be done.

Banishing such thoughts before they could give her away, Maggie closed her eyes and spun the practiced illusions.

Suddenly shouts erupted from outside the room, along with screams, sounds of flames, and the clash of steel. Before Motierre or Maggie could properly respond, the doors to the emperor's private quarters burst open in a flash of red light. The person who entered was a girl, she was small in build and stature, had long beautiful golden hair, and she wore a crimson red cloak and hood, which cloaked her face. She was drenched in blood, and was wielding a dark-steel dagger in her right hand. 

Maggie cast a shield over herself before she had even gotten to her feet.  As she did so, she turned to stare at the figure in the doorway, her hand glowing with a readied countering spell.  An assassin, she thought immediately, then with a shock she recognized the woman.

"My lady!  Are you hurt?  What has happened?"

The woman, now revealed to be princess Dales Motierre, softly said, "Step aside Maggie..."

"What are you..."  Maggie's voice was soft, but comprehension started to dawn.

Motierre's tone, in contrast, was shrill.  "What is the meaning of this?!"  He stood to his feet, glaring at Dales.  "Why aren't you in Skyrim?  I'll slice the skin from your hide for this, you little cur."

There was a pause while she calculated, then Maggie turned.  Her voice was still quiet.  "No, you won't."  Gently she placed a hand on Motierre's shoulder, and the emperor's legs seemed to buckle under him.  He sat on the edge of the bed, looking up at her with dumbstruck expression.

Turning back to the princess, Maggie said, "Are you sure about this, princess?  Perhaps something can be worked out."

"This man, is nothing to me. I won't accept anything, but his blood on my dagger ... no... nothing can be worked out Maggie " She said coldly, she quietly pulled down her hood, revealing her soft and pale face. She continued onward to the emperor's bed, dagger drawn. She adeptly started to twirl the dark steel blade in the air.

"What is this... what..."  The emperor was sputtering angrily.  "GUARDS!"

Ignoring him, Maggie kept one eye on the blade and calmly asked Dales, "You have made preparations?"

"Sorry Amaund, my forces have control over the palace, the entire imperial watch is under my control, and a majority of the palace guards are on my side, kindness goes a long way...the ones loyal to you are bleeding out or dead, outside of this room. And yes, maggie, I have prepared." Dales looked away guilty, "I'm sorry I had to drag you into this Maggie."

Maggie smiled briefly, but did not reply for a moment as she absorbed all this.  Many in the legion were unhappy, this was true.  She and Samuel had discussed such eventualities, but this was happening more quickly than they had anticipated.  The conviction in the princess' voice was also a surprise.  Motierre had obviously miscalculated by placing his daughter among soldiers who disliked him.

Finally she said, "I beg a moment, my lady.  To say goodbye."

Dales looked conflicted, she obviously wanted to kill him right now, but she finally sighed, and coolly said,

"I'll give you thirty seconds..." She backed away, and slightly lowered her dagger.

"Thank you.  I won't need that long."

Motierre was still protesting, but in a whimper.  "What is happening, Maggie?  Why is she here?"

"I think you know, Amaund."  The Colovian woman lowered her face and leaned in, touching her lips gently to his.  Shortly thereafter the emperor's eyes widened and his body grew rigid.  Releasing the kiss, Maggie moved to the side and seemed to be speaking into his ear, though from the princess' angle of vision it wasn't possible to see.

Finally Maggie stood back and turned to Dales.  "He is yours.  He's not able to fight you, but don't worry, he can still feel everything.  That is my gift to you.  I hope you will remember it in days to come, and remember me kindly. Empress."

Dales actually smiled, and kindly put her hand to Maggie's cheek, "I thank you countess, I could never forget your kindness, or the advice you gave to a annoying little girl at a ball."

Maggie appeared surprised at this, and touched.  She lifted a hand to brush Dales', and only glanced briefly at the blood on her fingers as she steps aside.

Dales proceeded onward, bringing her dagger up as she did. All Amaund could do was watch her helplessly. "You'll be glad to know, father, that your sons will be joining you soon in Aethrius." Dale's, was standing over the downed Amaund now, twirling her dagger, "Maggie, did this man hurt you?"

Maggie paused to watch, entranced for a moment by the spectacle, though in the back of her mind she knew she ought to cloak herself and get out.  The notion of a daughter killing her own father held her there.

The princess' question brought her out of her thoughts.  "It isn't important, Empress.  But, yes.  I am not sorry to see him go."  It never occurred to her, however, that Motierre would take his sadistic impulses out on his own child.

That caused Dales stoic face to fill with wrath and anger, and her eyes flashed with unnatural rage, "So you hurt me, my mother, my step-mother, and even Maggie... are woman nothing but fucking toys to you?!" Dales slowly and steadily brought the dagger to his nose, "Countess Magdela, I can safely assumed he's been hurting you, most recently. How do you want me to handle this "precious" situation?"

"Empress... do as you must.  I will not sink to his level.  You should hurry, I cannot hold the spell much longer."

Those words caused Dales, to become slightly sluggish, as if she was remembering something. She silently muttered under her breath, " "You hasn't crossed the line yet..." " It could have been her imagination, but it seemed like Dale's looked more relaxed, and normal .She glanced up at Maggie, and warmly smiled at her, "Your right Maggie, we shouldn't sink to his level. I'll do this cleanly. Thank you for letting me see clearly." As she said that, she put her blade to Motierre's throat.

The paralysis spell weakened a little, but only enough that Motierre could lift his eyes to Dales.  They burned with contempt.

Maggie wondered briefly if he was thinking of Titus Mede, who had shared his soon-to-be fate.  She glanced at the doorway, and cast a detect life spell.  There was a figure moving nearer.  "Someone's coming.  Do it."

"While you bleed out, father, I want you to contemplate how disgusting and horrible your life was. All the people you killed, and the people who suffered because of your greed. I want you to think of all the lives your ruined.  Tonight, they cease there wails of despair. This is for Titus Mede II, who you murdered in cold blood. This is for Lorgar Grim-maw, the man you publicly humiliated and disgraced for his loyalty. This is for the countless imperial citizens who's lives where ended because of your atrocious policies ..."

The spell was weakening, as now Amuand could talk, he pathetically screamed out, "WAIT, Dales I'm your father-

Dales interrupted him, "I had no father...only two mothers, one who you raped, and the other, who died because of your friend the, dominion..."

"I'll give you anything-"

Dales whispered into his ear, "I want Elan back, you womanizing, piece of SHIT..."

And with that, without any hesitation or regret, Dales thrusted the blade of her dagger into Amaund's throat.

Maggie watched, wanting to satisfy herself that the young woman really would do it.  If Dales backed down, the countess' gamble to help in the assassination would cost her dearly.  Nevertheless Maggie was surprised when the girl actually plunged the blade.  Remarkable.

Quickly she he moved to cloak herself for an exit, but not quickly enough.

"You?!" a familiar yet surprised voiced was heard from the doorway, "I read your book!" the voice continued in a slightly angry tone.

The courtesan turned, her spell hand still raised to counter this new possible threat.  After a moment, Maggie's mouth fell open.  "The king.  You... you read my book?"  She paused, unreality mixing with alarm that he had recognized her.  Ultimately, however, curiosity won out.  "Did you like it?"

"I'm still wrapping my head around the romance part, as I don't really know what to think of it."

"Ah, well..."  Maggie laughed a little, and would have blushed if it were possible.  "One must write to the audience, you know."  She glanced at Dales, and at the prone, bloody form of the emperor, then back at the wizard, utterly confused about what the Nord hero of her book The Lost King was doing in an assassination bedchamber in the heart of Cyrodiil.

The hooded man turned his head towards Dales and now her dead father and then back to Maggie, "And it seems like your kind always finds a way into a ruler's bedchamber." 

"My kind?" she asked, bristling.  "Be that as it may, we have more serious matters to attend to here.  The fate of an empire.  What is your stake in this, wizard?"

"History repeats itself. And I'm here to make sure it repeats correctly." 

"You are far from your old home now. I should think you would be haunting Ulfric Stormcloak's bedchamber."  Maggie moved a step around, still wary.  She had seen his power, and suspected that what she had seen was only a small part.

"He wasn't the one that needed replacement."

"True." Maggie turned to look at Dales. "You know this man, Empress?  He is your..."  She stops, searching for a diplomatic word for accomplice.  "... your companion?"

"He's my teacher Maggie." She said.

"I see."  Turning back to the man, Maggie said, "You are a powerful man, Greater-than-Ysgramor.  My kind may seem to offer little to kings, but that is an illusion.   And... no, I don't mean the sort of thing that happens in my books."  She smiled a little, then turned her head aside so that she included Dales in her words.  "I can help you."

"We should go and make the proclamation that you're the new empress. Make it official." The wizard said as he pulled down his hood, apparently ignoring Maggie's offer of help. 

It was the first time Maggie had seen the king's face.  She felt an odd stir, having spent hours imagining this man's life in intimate detail.  But immediately she came back to the present, and waited to hear what Dales would say.

Dales didn't even hesitate for a second, she smiled warmly to Maggie, and grasped her hand, "Of course I accept your offer of help Maggie, though it's not necessary, I would protect you regardless."

"Now we should probably gather everyone in the palace in the throne room and make the proclamation. And then find someone to clean up this mess you've created. Did you even try to be subtle?" he said in a slightly irritated tone before turning his head towards Maggie, "And I'll speak with you afterwards about the details of this 'help' of yours." 

"I couldn't be subtle teacher, there was four guards on the outside of his room. What was I suppose to do? Sneak in?" She said annoyingly and then she gave Maggie a final hug, "Don't worry, everything will be fine Maggie..."

Maggie accepted the hug, looking over Dales' head towards the king.  If he told the new empress of what he knew of her, the Countess Skingrad would have some difficult explaining to do.  She also understood that her Dominion connections were forfeit now, and she must find a different path or be sent back to exile.  The princess had spoken of losing a mother...

As Dales drew back and began to argue, Maggie spoke up.  "Forgive me, but the empress has just killed her own father.  You might give her a moment."  Turning to Dales, she put a hand on her arm.  "Are you sure you're alright, my lady?"

"I'm...fine Maggie. I just feel...strange. I'll be alright." Dales put her arm reassuringly on Maggie's, before smiling. Just then a dark armored figure walked in, he was clad in grey imperial armor, and was carrying a horse haired helmet. After noticing the dead body, he keeled before Dales.

"Your majesty, I am High-captain Lanius Legatius, you may know my brother-in law, Marius Imperius, and my old-friend, Gaius Tullius. Word arrived form Tullius a few days ago about your plight, so I took the liberty of rounding up the elder council, they wait for you in the chambers as we speak."

"You should go speak with them. I'll speak with Maggie about her offer of assistance in the meantime." the wizard said. 

Dales patted Maggie on the shoulder one last time, before going into tow with High Captain Legatius. She left the room without saying a word.

The wizard waited till as the rest left and he and Maggie were alone and the doors closed, "Let's hear the offer, sos lun." 

"I don't think we were properly introduced before, though you obviously know my books. What shall I call you?"

"I'm called Skjari these days. And I only read one of your books."

Maggie smiled a little.  "How very Nord."  She crossed to a chair and sat, gesturing at another nearby to invite him to sit as well.  "I'll get straight to the point.  My father is the Count of Skingrad.  That is Cyrodiil's wealthiest and most powerful county, if you have not kept up on our affairs.  I have many connections in the Imperial City, not only literary ones.  Though there is not likely to be any open challenge to the empress' ascension, managing a long neglected empire will require more than that.  You saw that she holds no grudge against me.  Allow me to remain as her advisor, and I will help you both to hold Cyrodiil."

He accepted her offer and sat down as well, "You're a diil sos lun, I bet you can figure out what I mean. I know your kind. And I would appreciate your advises, but I would have it that those advises go trough me first." 

Lifting a brow, Maggie ignored the comment about her identity.  "You are the true power here.  I think we understand each other.  My family has not endured as we have by wishing misrule on the empire.  Even if all of us have our own... perspectives, shall we say... our goal must be the same.  None of us has a chance if Cyrodiil descends into chaos.  Are we agreed, then?  I shall remain in the palace as royal advisor, and you shall have House Bathory as an ally?"

"Though you will act as my advisor in reality, if you were to start giving advice directly to Dales I would find it necessary to inform her of what you really are." 

"Are you so sure that you know what I am?  Let me be frank with you.  Cyrodiil has not had the kindest history with wizards who act as the true power behind the Ruby Throne.  Zurin Arctus, Jagar Tharn, Minister Hierem... these names are familiar?  You are also far from home.  Nords are not the most popular race in the Heartlands at present.  Powerful as you are, Skjari, you will need allies, as well.  Nevertheless, I accept your terms."

"Allies, sure. But so far I don't trust you enough to not try and thwart me." 

"Thwart you from what?"

"From my experience, nobles, especially the ones of your blood, always try to undermine other people's authority so they can seize power for themselves."

Maggie gestured toward the bed where Motierre was bleeding out.  "I am not the one who slit the emperor's throat. Forgive me, Lord Skjari, but it appears to me that you are the one seizing power. I only ask to keep my place, and that of my family." 

"I'm just being careful." 

"I would expect nothing else."  She paused, smiling.  "It is so odd, sitting here with you like this.  I hope you will pardon my insolence in writing the book.  I couldn't resist.  Your story caught my imagination."

"Though I don't remember our encounter being that romantic." 

"That's the imagination part.  I should confess that I did go back, after you left me, and spoke to the ghost of your sentry.  His story made it into the book as well, but I needed some device for how I got the rest of yours.  Another writer might have said they found your history in some dusty library, but for my readers, such a dull account wouldn't do."

Standing, Maggie continued, "We can catch up more at a later time.  You and I have much yet to do tonight, if the empress is to securely hold the city by morning.  I will provide you a map of justiciar safe houses across Cyrodiil.  I may not know them all, but I know more than what is left of the royal guard."

"Well I better get on it then, I want to catch some sleep before sunrise."

"Goodnight, then.  My liege."  Maggie smiled, mostly of relief.  For now, she seemed to be safe.  Appearances were obviously deceiving, however, and she would need to see Samuel before she felt completely secure.  Without even a glance at the dead emperor, the countess slipped behind a dressing screen, then disappeared completely.

It's always nice when your writing gets reinforced by the canon after you come up with it.

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Boldir Iron-Brow
Whiterun


After the giants' victory sealed that of the Stormcloaks, those forces moving into Whiterun Hold made their way to Fort Greymoor. There they changed places with Ulfric's fresh reinforcements for Falkreath and the Pass.

The Stormcloak leadership rested a night at Greymoor, then continued on to Whiterun. After they bought their room in the Bannered Mare, Rebec and Baldur disappeared into it for the night. Boldir purchased a room too, but never entered it. Instead, he wandered the streets as if in a trance, following the familiar roads until they brought him to an empty fruit stand in the marketplace. He had dreamed of this spot for months now. And if not for the war, it would have dominated his mind. But those thoughts always seemed like a distant goal. Shadows of thoughts compared to the conflict that had loomed over him. Before he could see Carlotta again, he'd had to survive. That was what mattered most. And now that it was over, now that those thoughts of her were no longer shadows, nothing felt real. It was like he was dreaming again, and he didn't know what to do.

You can start by coming to the house. I don't even know you're back yet.

Yeah, but what then? Where do I even start?

It'll come to you.

Boldir realized that a patrolling guard was looking at him with a concerned expression on his face. How long have I been staring at this empty stand?

He moved along, past the guard and up to the Wind District. Sitting at a bench in front of the statue of Talos, Boldir looked up into his patron god of war's stone eyes. It wasn't until then that he realized just how different this war had been. He'd been fighting for most of his life, but Falkreath had truly changed him. Between the atrocities he'd committed, the things he'd survived, and the voices he now heard, Boldir knew that he had crossed some kind of line. Perhaps it's right that this war should be my last.

"Boldir?"

Boldir turned at the sound of his name. "Mila?"

"Boldir!" The little girl sprinted past the central tree and leapt over the back of the bench, attaching herself to Boldir in a hug. "Mother said you went to Falkreath? Did you fight bad guys? Thalmor? How many were the- ohh!" Boldir had not realized it, but while she was latched onto him, Mila had began ruffling through his satchel, and pulled out the flute Jodun gave him. She climbed down and held the instrument up into the dwindling sunlight so that she could see it better. Her eyes were wide.

"Hey, careful with that," said Boldir. "It's not normal!"

"Not normal? No, it's not! It's beautiful! Are these real gems?"

"That's not what I mean. That flute... it's posses-" Boldir stopped himself before he finished telling Mila that the flute was possessed. Probably not the kind of thing to tell a curious child. He could see that she was still waiting for an answer though. "a possession. It was a possession of my friend's. He gave it to me down in Falkreath. And aye, the gems are real."

"Wow," she muttered, admiring the stones and inlays. "He must be a really good friend. I wouldn't give something like this to Lars."

"He was a good man." Said Boldir.

"Oh." Said Mila, a little awkwardly. She was young, and it is easy for young people to forget that sometimes the good guys can die just like the bad ones. She immediately changed the subject. "Could you play me a song on it" she begged, handing him the flute. "Please?"

Boldir looked back over his shoulder, off in the direction of the girl's house. "It's getting late. Won't your ma be worried about you?"

"The sun ain't even down yet!" She looked up at him with her big sad eyes. Boldir's mind went back to when she'd convinced him to play hide and seek with her using the same method. He'd been in this very spot. It was working just as well this second time.

"Blast you, child! Fine. One song."

"Yipee!"

Boldir brought the flute to his mouth and played a fun melody that she had heard a hundred times before. It was quick and upbeat, and Mila had no trouble humming along with it. She was still smiling wide when Boldir finished. That made him smile. "Alright Mila, now it's past dark. You need to go home before you get in trouble."

The little girl nodded and gave Boldir another hug. "I'm glad you're back. Good night Boldir!"

"G'night Mila." Boldir paused. "Oh, and Mila, please don't tell your mother that I'm here yet."

Her eyes looked away as she gave a very unconvincing nod and started off.

"Mila I'm serious!" Boldir shouted after her as she ran down the street toward her house. Boldir replaced the flute in his satchel and leaned back in the bench. He wasn't quite ready to head to the Bannered Mare yet. He was content to remain seated and reflect. Speaking to Mila had helped a lot. He felt more "here" for lack of a better way to put it. It was like he'd needed that little wake up call to get him back into the more cheerful way of things here in Whiterun. Casting Falkreath behind him, Boldir thought about the future, and how if he could make things work with Carlotta, it would certainly be a bright one.
 

***
 

Boldir awoke. For the briefest horrific moment, the thought that Mila had just been another dream, and he was still in Falkreath. But he quickly found he was still sitting on the bench near the shrine, and breathed a sigh of relief.
Back to the Mare. He wrapped his cloak around himself and began to rise.

"Anyone ever tell you that you're a light sleeper?"
Only halfway risen, Boldir froze. Every muscle in his body felt locked in place at the sound of Carlotta's voice.
"You woke the moment I took my seat."

Boldir slowly lowered back down to the bench. He didn't want to turn his head, for fear of finding no one there, as he had so many times before. Finally, he forced himself to. There, at the end of the bench, sat Carlotta, her green eyes reflecting the light of the distant torches behind him.

"Carlotta..." His voice trailed off. He mustered everything he had in him to find the words he needed. He couldn't let this slip away. "Carlotta I…"

"Not yet,"  she blurted. Her composure broke, and she came to him him, wrapping her arms tightly beneath his. Her touch was warm against the cool night. "Just give me this."

And so he did. Time broke beneath the tree of Kyne, and it could have been two minutes or two hours that passed without a word between them, just the feeling of each other's embrace. When at last the barking of a dog snapped Boldir out of his trance, he kissed her on the head and whispered. "I would stay a while, a long while, if you would have me."

"YES!" shouted a familiar voice from behind. They both turned to spot Mila hiding in the bushes beside the great tree. "You better say 'yes' Mamma!"

Carlotta smiled. "Well the boss says I have to..." She looked Boldir in the eyes, eyes like emeralds, and answered. "Yes."

Overwhelming happiness and relief flooded over Boldir. Everything he'd survived, all the losses and pains, were paid back by that single word.
He wasn't sure what to say now. He was loving this moment so much that he was content to just sit and remain in it.

Mila broke the silence with a simple question. "Ain't you gonna kiss?"

Boldir and Carlotta smiled, and they kissed.

It's always nice when your writing gets reinforced by the canon after you come up with it.

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Rebec, Baldur, Boldir
Whiterun Hold
Evening

 

The night after arriving in Whiterun, Baldur and Rebec slept in, well into the next morning.  By then Boldir was nowhere to be found.  They met with Vignar, then split up to do errands and write their respective reports to Ulfric.

That evening, Rebec found the two men with mead cups in hand, sitting around the fire pit at the Mare and getting started on a night of debauchery. From the admiral's expression, drink and merriment were far from her mind. Her tone was grave. "We need to buy a cow."

Baldur looked away from the mead that he was drowning himself in and raised his eyebrow.

"Uhhh...come again, Rebec?"

"A cow. You know, moo? This is urgent, so come on, I'll explain on the way." She turned to walk out of the tavern.

"Rebec, hold on, we have something to tell you!" Baldur decided to ignore whatever crazy scheme Rebec had cooked up for the time being.

Rebec's expression was clearly dubious that anything, at that moment, was more important than cows, but she turned back.  "What is it?"

Baldur nudged Boldir on his arm as he grinned. "Go on! Tell her!"

Boldir's smile may have been wider than Rebec had ever seen from him. "I'm getting married."

The admiral's face brightened with astonishment. "What?!  The axe said yes?" Laughing, she leaned down and threw her arms around Boldir's neck, kissing him on the cheek. "You big oaf, where's the lucky woman? I want to congratulate her, too. I bet I can make her cheeks redder than Dagon's ass within a minute flat."

Boldir's smile widened even further. "And I'm sure you will too. I couldn't tell you were she is right now though. Haven't seen her in an hour or so."

"So you two are celebrating, right?" Rebec's cheer turns to unease. "But, I really do need you to come with me. This might take a while, so Boldir, if your beloved is waiting for you, Baldur and I could probably manage it..." She didn't sound confident of that fact, however.

Boldir thought for a moment. If he was going to retire, this may very well be the last thing of this nature he'd get to do with his friends. Carlotta would understand. He couldn't pass up this chance. "No, don't worry. I'm in."

Baldur gave a very heavy probably unnecessary sigh and quickly downed the rest of his mead, then wiped his mouth. "Well, I guess this means I'm in too. Why do I have a bad feeling about this? You owe me, Rebec."

"Less talking, more walking," Rebec called as she headed out the door of the tavern.

Whiterun's streets were fairly quiet as most of the activity had moved into homes and taverns.  The air was crisp, and the street bathed in moons' light. Above their heads all the constellations were clearly visible, as if the firmament itself recognized peace in the land.

Rebec was visibly nervous. From the satchel over her shoulder, the sound of ceramic pots clinked gently as they walked. "Truth is I already bought the cow," she admitted as they headed out the gate. "This afternoon. She's tied up at the stable. But we've got to paint her. Otherwise they'll just think it's an ordinary eating cow and all this will be for nothing."

"They?" Said Boldir, confused. "Who is "they" and why do they want us to paint a cow?"

"Yea Rebec, what in the hell are you talking a-"

Baldur facepalmed himself when he realized where this was going. "They" could only mean one thing considering her behavior.

"Uugh...this is about the damn giants again, isn't it?"

Boldir looked at Baldur, even more confused than before. "What do Giants have to do with a painted cow?"

"I have no idea, but look at the way she's acting. Who else do you figure she'd be so excited to give a cow to?" said Baldur.

The admiral's expression turned sheepish for a moment, but her tone was defensive. "Yes, it is about the giants again, since you're so smart and know so much about them, General Red-Snow! On the way in this morning, I heard talk that the giants are still out there in the tundra near the city. They made a big bonfire last night and some scouts saw it. Now everyone's nervous, and they're right to be. The fathers aren't mindless beasts like some think, but they're all riled up now and if we don't do something, there'll be blood one way or another."

By that time they had reached the stables outside the city.  A solitary cow was tied to the rail.  When they approached, she looked up and gave a plaintive "moo."

Rebec stopped and, taking small clay pots from her satchel, shoved one each into Boldir's and Baldur's hands, along with brushes. "The stories say that when the giants came down from the mountains, it wasn't always to defend us. They were prickly and liked to steal. The old Nords figured out that if you painted special treasures and set them out, the giants would only take those and leave the rest alone. And they especially like cows. So start painting." She took her own pot and brush, and began to contemplate the cow, wondering where to start.

"Start painting what exactly?" asked Boldir with a hint of skepticism. He didn't like the idea that a cow may be their best defense against a Giant attack. Especially if it was anything like what had happened to the Thalmor the other day.

"Have you seen the things they paint at their own camps? I imagine that's what the giants like. Swirls and big hatch marks and so forth. I don't know! Improvise." Rebec had decided to start with the tail.

Baldur thought about it for a second and did remember the giant's bodies were covered in swirls. Baldur also remembered he had a swirl on his face and wondered if maybe that would somehow help to keep them from...squishing them. Baldur began painting on the left side of the cow, making swirl patterns on it in resemblance of his war paint. In the middle of it's side, Baldur drew a crude figure that was supposed to be a giant, although he gave it swirl...breasts...along with swirl patterned feet and long hair with swirls at the end as well. He didn't want to admit it, but he was actually enjoying himself. He almost felt like a kid again, although he realized he never knew what that felt like in the first place having done nothing but write and train for war thanks to his father. But he imagined it was something like this. He could easily see a group of devious little rascals maybe painting the neighbor's cow. Maybe with vulgar images for the laughs. The thought made Baldur start to chuckle as he continued on. He even put a few vulgar images on the cow himself.

Might as well enjoy myself, right? I doubt the giants will mind, hehehe.

Standing back to admire his work, Baldur feeling some pride in it painted his name on the udder. "Hehehe..."

For his part, Boldir painted swirls starting behind the cow's ear and leading down her side. He couldn't quite remember how giant art looked, so he took Rebec's advice and improvised with the paintings within the wide swirled frames he'd made. His tongue stuck out slightly as he brought the brush up and down, left and right, dabbing and moving this way and that in very intricate and precise moments. After several minutes of intense painting, he backed up to admire his handiwork with a smile.

The smile faded slightly. The cluster of three crudely-drawn "stick giants", each one smiling and holding hands with a smaller "stick Nord" seemed more artistic during their creation than as a finished product. The scene was surrounded by swirly lines that he'd wanted to make look like a sort of windy frame but instead they just looked kind of like skeever tails. Boldir shrugged. Oh well. He dipped his paint brush in the jar again and began to add swirly clouds in the background of his scene.

Even with scruff piled over the cow's eyes, she somehow knew every time Rebec was about to bring the brush to her tail and picked that moment to swish it away. Cursing, the admiral finally made a feint and just after the expected swish, leaped at the tail.  In so doing she upended her paint pot, however, spilling half its contents down the cow's backside. She managed to catch it before it hit the ground. As she straightened, the cow's paint-soaked tail hit her square in the face.

Rebec stood, defeated, with a wide swath of white across her face. "This is harder than you'd think."

Boldir looked up and laughed. "Maybe for you. I think I should become an artist." He said, untruthfully. He nodded at the paint that'd splashed on Rebec's face. "You've got a little..." He motioned at the streak.

Baldur looked up from his handiwork just in time to see Rebec's face get smeared with paint from the cow's tail and couldn't control his fits of laughter.

"Heheahahaha! Hey Boldir, how about we just finish the job the cow started on her and give HER to the giants? Hahaha!" Baldur dipped his gauntleted fingers into the pot of paint and "brushed the paint off her face" or pretended to try, smearing even more on her cheek in the process. "Aww, here. Let me get that off. Hahaha!"

"Back, you devil!" Rebec moved to dodge Baldur's brush, and as he pursued her, the startled cow kicked her foot out and hit him square in the groin. Then it was Rebec's turn to laugh. "Oh gods," she said, doubled over. "Maybe I won't turn this hunk of beef into mince after all."

The air was forced from Baldur's mouth, making a hoarse wheezing noise as the mighty nordic general was stopped in his tracks by a cow. "Unnnh...ungh...."

"..............."

"..............."

"AAAHHAAAHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!" cried Baldur with tears in his eyes before falling over face first into the mud. His expression at first was blank before the shock faded, his eyes crossed and the pain fully registered.

When the cow kicked, its whole body had jerked, causing Boldir's brush to streak across the top of his painting, ruining the clouds that he'd been working on. "Damnit! What are you tw-" He was cut short by Baldur's scream. In all the time he'd known Baldur, he'd never heard the man scream like this. Boldir jumped up and looked over the cow to see his friend laying with his face in the mud. Even though he was clearly in pain, Rebec appeared to be laughing beside him. "Uhh... Baldur?" He spoke up so that his friend could hear over Rebec's intense laughter. "You okay?"

Baldur struggled to lift his face out of the mud to reply. "J-just...leave me...f-for a while." said Baldur weakly before plopping his face back in the mud.

Boldir looked from Baldur to Rebec, who was still doubled over. He looked back at Baldur, then at the cow. The terrifying realization of what must've happened to his friend suddenly hit him. Boldir shook his head as Rebec straightened.

Hooting and not even minding her white war paint, Rebec moved to the front of the cow- the safer end- and started painting swirls on her cheeks. "Good one," she said to the cow, grinning. "You alright back there?" she called to Baldur, her tone breezy. She'd made plum pudding out of more than one mouthy sailor, and knew there was usually more wailing than actual injury involved.

The cow's jowls were moving and she would shake her head in annoyance every once in awhile, but Rebec managed to at least get some paint on her face.  More than any of them, the cow was ready for this little project to be done.

Baldur may have not been seriously wounded, but the excruciating pain left him unable to move for a while.The throbbing pulsating pain could be felt all throughout his pelvis area.

"Boldir...help me up please..."

Careful to maintain a safer distance than his friend had, Boldir made his way around the cow to the other side and hefted Baldur up.

By the time Baldur got to his feet, Rebec was finished and had come around to inspect all their work. She looked first at Boldir's, then Baldur's creations, and sighed. "I doubt this was what the old Nords had in mind. Let's hope giants are nearsighted."

She unwrapped the bovine's halter rope and started leading her out towards the tundra. The men would catch up.

Baldur walked with a hobble behind the other two still feeling the effects from the kick. His demeanor as a result was uncharacteristically moody. He wanted nothing more than to just go back to the tavern, wash up, and sleep. Maybe with some cold mead to dull the pain.

"Boldir, would you please ask how lo- unh, ask the ice queen how much longer we have to walk?"

Boldir looked ahead toward Rebec. Beyond her he could see a billow of smoke rising in the distance. It looked to be a little less than a mile away, but it was hard to tell with the sun beginning to get low. "That your giants Rebec?"

The admiral had seen the bonfire, too, and stopped. The lunacy of this plan was only now becoming apparent to her.

"That's them," she answered heavily. Glancing around, she saw Baldur limping and said, "You wouldn't make much of a farmer, my love.  Buck up and forget about it, because in a minute we might have to run for the hills like those Thalmor. Alright, I'll try to get the cow close enough so they can see her, but one of you should create some kind of distraction." She looked between the two men, dubious.

"Maybe when a cow kicks you straight in the nads, if you had them, you'd understand. I'll take Thalmor torture a thousand times over than to face that again. In any case, you're not going anywhere near those things this time."

Baldur limped forward and snatched the rope from Rebec's hands next to the cow, eying the cow up and down as if he wanted to fight it as he did.

"If they decide to eat miss nether-squasher here, I want to be the one to deliver it. Hey look, I think I can see Ness!"

This time Rebec wasn't going to argue about playing with giants. "Ness?  Is that like the Ner... the Neva... that thing you keep saying when you run off somewhere?"

"Nerevarine? All this time around Dunmer and you still don't know who that is? No silly, look. It's our "little" friend from earlier."

Baldur pointed into the distance through the fog to where the giants were. Surely enough there was a "small" giant with a long braided reddish brown beard and long rugged hair to match it standing by the bonfire they erected. The giant was scratching his arse with his left hand while scratching his back with his club, looking bored and oblivious to the world as any animal would unaware that it's being watched. The other bigger giants were all huddled nearby the huge fire as well, and further in the back Baldur could make out two hulking shapes through the fog that Baldur figured must have been Mammoths, the giant's giant cattle.

"See? I named him NeskonungR, which means "Small King", or Ness for short. You said the stories say they used to be old Atmoran Kings right?"

Rebec stared at this sudden burst of linguistics and philosophy from her warrior husband, then pointed a finger at him. "See, you do like them! Whatever his name is, they've got to go back where they came from. Let's hope they like beef."

The cow let out an anxious moo and tossed her head, spooked by the smell of smoke and the giants.

"Shut it, cow! You earned your fate. Yea yea moo yourself. Anyway, they killed Thalmor so what's not to like, right? Although they'd likely kill anyone encroaching on their territory. Any ideas how to distract the others? I wanna try my luck with Ness over there. Leave the cow with him." said Baldur.

Ever since Rebec had first mentioned distractions, Boldir had been deep in thought. Now he was eyeing the two large mammoths in the distance. Several different ideas were forming in his mind.

"How big of a distraction are we talking about?" He asked.

"I don't think anything small would do," Rebec suggested. "Let's face it, we're winging it here. And this time Baldur's right. Painted up as I am, I'm not getting anywhere near that camp, or they'll think I'm a present, too. Sorry, but you menfolk can take things from here. I'll be the lookout."

"In that case, what did you have in mind Boldir? I'm interested to hear a plan of yours for once," said Baldur.

"I make plans." Said Boldir defensively. "They just never get used."

Smiling with a slight chuckle at his friend's defensiveness, Baldur said, "Oh I know, my friend. I know."

Boldir didn't know much about Giants, and he knew less about mammoths, but he figured that they would respond to strange behaviors the same way any other species would. "Well, if we're looking to make a big scene, I'm pretty a sure I'd have no trouble getting those mammoths riled up. If you want something that is less likely to cause violence well..." He pulled out his flute. "I doubt Giants get to hear good music very often."

Baldur really didn't like the idea of stampeding mammoths and agitated giants, but he figured Rebec would have a better idea of which to go with than he, since she seemed to be a self proclaimed "giant expert". "Hmm, I don't know. What do you think Rebec?"

Rebec tapped her painted chin. "Hm, I think the flute is safer. When I talked to... uh, Ness, all he did was look at me funny. That's better than making them think their mammoths are in danger. All we need is for them to look the other way while we send walking barbecue here into their camp."

"That's what I was thinking too, although I have a question. How are they going to know we gave it to them? Shouldn't they see us bringing them the cow?" asked Baldur.

"It's the paint that matters," Rebec answered sagely. "We don't need them to know that we gave it to them, just that the Nords are sorry for their troubles. They didn't attack us before, so I think they understand it was the elven foreigners, but this'll help seal the deal."

"If you say so." said Baldur skeptically. "In any case lets get this under way. Boldir, work your magic. Then lets go so we can wash up and get some rest or something."

Boldir nodded, secretly glad that the musical option was chosen. It was, in his mind, the finer of his plans, requiring more skill. And it would make a damn good story!
He headed off towards the camp, making sure to stay low and keep his distance while he circled around it on the right side. He disappeared from his friends' sight when he crossed over and back down a small hill near the camp.

"Alright Rebec, wish me luck. Come on stupid cow."

As Baldur said this, he started tugging on the rope to get the beast moving, but she wouldn't budge at first. The general tugged a few more times before he turned around and put his brow up to hers.

"Alright, listen up cow, you and I are taking a little trip. You can do this the easy way, or you can do this the hard way."

The cow obviously didn't respond. It leaned down and started chewing on some grass and stared dumbly back at Baldur. Baldur tugged on the cow as hard as he could, making it walk a few steps, but the cow stubbornly layed down on the ground.

"That's it damn it you chose the hard way!"

Baldur angrily hopped on the cow's back and wound the rope around his hand into a makeshift handle. Grasping the rope with his left hand and holding the flat of his axe to the cow's rump, Baldur waited for Boldir's distraction.

"Baldur, you're going to get paint on your... oh never mind." Rebec hunkered down to watch, hoping no Stormcloak patrols happened by.

It took a short while, as Boldir was moving slowly and carefully, but eventually he reached the far end of the giants' camp. Before getting too close, he opted to lay down prone and crawl the rest of the way, using the tall grass of the tundra for cover. He slowly approached the bonfire until he was about ten yards away, right in the midst of their camp. Even with his grassy cover, Boldir didn't dare get any closer to the cluster of Giants. He counted thirteen in total. Enough to cause all sorts of grief in Whiterun, and certainly enough to squash him like a bug.

Boldir looked to his left at the only beasts short of dragons that could make giants look small. The two gargantuan mammoths stood grazing not twenty yards from the fire. He began to ease his way in their direction, planning to play from behind them. Slowly but steadily, Boldir crawled across the Giant camp.

Boldir wasn't halfway there yet when he heard a loud thud. He froze. He heard it again. Every muscle in his body was tensed up. He slowly rolled over and turned his head back to the bonfire. His eyes widened in shock and fear as he saw the source of the sounds. One of the Giants had turned from the fire and was heading in his direction. The loud thudding sound was the result of the beast's massive club hitting the ground after bouncing off of rocks that it was dragged over. Boldir wanted to run. He wanted to do something, but he doubted he could outrun them, so there was nothing he could do but remain as still as possible and pray that he didn't get stomped on. The massive Giant lumbered straight for him. It's footsteps each sounding like some heavy load was being dropped from a roof. It was now ten paces away. Five. Two.

Oh gods! Gods! Boldir shut his eyes and waited. The footsteps stopped. Boldir waited a moment and then heard a wet trickle noise in the grass several feet from his head, accompanied by the fowl smell of urine. He opened one eye and immediately regretted it. Directly above him, the Giant stood, one leg on either side of Boldir. His loincloth was raised, and the ungodly painted sight that the Nord now looked upon was something he'd have been content to never have to see. A steady yellow stream flew over Boldir's head. He closed his eyes again. This time praying to whatever god that cared to listen that this great father's only business was to take a piss. Finally, after at least a minute, the trickling sound stopped. Boldir hesitantly opened his eyes again to see the Giant turning and lumbering back to the fire, one loud footstep at a time.

Doing his best to put the scarring sight he'd just seen behind him, Boldir, now in much more of a hurry than before, finished crawling to his position behind the mammoths. He found a small cluster of rocks and tundra cotton, and rose to one knee in it. Boldir pulled out his flute and thought for a moment. I don't know any Giant related songs. Instead, he opted for a classic in Skyrim, "King of the Mountain". Given what Rebec had told them about Giants, it seemed fitting. Of course, the actual lyrics were about a greedy Nord, but he wouldn't be singing, so it didn't matter. I doubt they'd know the difference anyway. Thought Boldir as he raised the flute to his lips. He began playing.

 

Come on, what's taking you, Iron-Brow?

The General was growing tired of sitting mounted up on the blasted cow. Flies and gnats had begun their nagging and buzzing and since he was wearing full armor except his helmet, the bugs concentrated their efforts around Baldur's face, attracted to the stench of his sweat mixed with the dirt and grime on his face. That coupled with a freshly made cow pie whose fumes were now filling Baldur's nose passages with it's less than enticing aroma caused Baldur to get increasingly agitated. Just when Baldur was about to say the hell with it, Baldur heard Boldir's flute playing in the distance, which in the fog and darkness gave the scene an eerie feel even despite the bonfire.

"Alright, time for action. Move it!"

Baldur waited until the giants started slowly moving away from the bonfire before he smacked the cow on it's backside with the flat of his axe. The beast immediately reared up off it's hind quarters with a resounding "MoOOO" that filled the night air. Not being a beast of great agility, the cow struggled getting up, but eventually made it. Afterwards, the cow finally started slowly making it's way forward to the campfire.

"Ah, finally!"

Almost as soon as Baldur said this, the cow took a few more steps further and plopped right back down once more, not being used to carrying a heavy load on it's back. However, when it plopped down, it sat down with it's front legs first, which Baldur did not expect. This sent him toppling over into the dirt once again face first into the ground. Furious at the stubborn beast, Baldur scrambled up to his feet and ran to the side of the cow still holding on to the rope wound around his hand tightly.

"Damn it you stupid fucking cow, I said get moving!"

Baldur once again raised his axe, but this time he raised it back as high as he could and took two steps back. After breathing in, Baldur brought the flat of his axe down on the cows furry cow pie encrusted arse as hard as he could. He soon regretted his lack of patience with the beast. As soon as his axe side met the surface of that cow's rump, the beast took off like it was possessed by a sabrecat...with Baldur in tow dragging him through the dirt in the direction of the bonfire cursing and yelling the whole way there.

"You STUPID FUCKING COW! This is all your fault REBEC!!!!!!!"

"Baldur, you... what are.... oh shit!"  Rebec took off running to head the cow off before she got to the giants' bonfire.  As she ran, she said through clenched teeth, "This is definitely... not... how the old Nords... did it..."

 

As he played from his position just behind and between the mammoths, Boldir could see the Giants turning toward him. Confident that the darkness along with the tundra cotton and grass could conceal him well enough for now, he kept playing, even raising a bit in volume. The mammoths seemed indifferent, but the giants weren't. They began to move away from the fire in his direction. This better work.

Most of the Giants stopped in front of the mammoths, staring off into what must have looked like complete darkness from where they stood. Their faces didn't appear angry. In fact, they almost seemed amused. Or did they look indifferent? It was dark, and Boldir knew better than to try to tell with these confusing creatures. He just took it as a good sign that they were not angrily pursuing the sound. Yet. By now, they were all away from or leaving the fire, heading toward the music. He reached the end of the song now, and repeated it back from the start. Come on Baldur. If you're gonna drop that cow off, Now's your chance.

Baldur watched in horror as the imbecilic shaggy beast not only made a dash straight to the camp, but it was running right for the giants. More specifically Ness, who was slowly walking his way behind the others to wherever Boldir was playing the flute. Baldur frantically tried undoing the rope from his hand, but it was pulled tight when the cow took off and was partly trapped under the metal pad on his gauntlet.

Baldur still being dragged along managed to look up to see Ness had heard the commotion and started stomping his feet and raising his club at the sight of the cow and Baldur. Thinking quickly, Baldur realized he still had his other axe, the other one being by Rebec from when he dropped it after the cow tugged him along. Hurriedly reaching for his weapon, Baldur finally snagged it just in time. Pulling himself forward slightly along the rope Baldur reached forward and freed himself just before the cow ran straight into Ness's leg. The inertia from the cow's charge made his body roll forward until he finally stopped rolling and ended up flat on his back. Baldur laid in that spot for a moment with his eyes closed facing the sky thanking the gods that his life was sparred. Until he felt air blowing in his face...

Rebec came to a skidding halt near Baldur as she saw her husband flat on his back and the giant they had named "Ness" staring down at him.

Advancing slowly, she said, "Hello there. Hello. Remember us?" The giant straightened and looked at her. "Ehm.... yes. We brought you a cow. It's yours."  She pointed the beast, who had stopped at the edge of the camp, panting. Then Rebec gestured at Baldur. "He's mine. We'll go now. No harm done, yes?"

Ness looked to Rebec for a while, then leaned back down to Baldur. From where Baldur was laying, he seemed to be staring at the swirl on his cheek. After a few moments the giant rubbed his beard and stared at Rebec some more, either contemplating what she said, or simply just confused. Or indifferent to the rodents that just scurried into his camp, Baldur couldn't tell.

I guess it would be mighty strange if a rat came into my home bearing gifts and started talking to me.

Taking advantage of the moment, Baldur scurried up to his feet and ran towards Rebec, picking up his second dropped axe as he did. Baldur speaking frantically and panting started pushing Rebec away in the other direction.

"Okay, enough fun for one day eh? Let's go."

"MoooOOO!"

When the couple started to walk away from the camp, to Baldur's great dismay, the blasted cow started making it's way after them away from Ness.

"Damnit!"

"Oh Dibella's garters, we don't have time for this." Rebec grabbed the cow's halter and tugged on it, but the animal dug in until Baldur slapped her on the rump. Then the cow leaped ahead, but she was getting tired and Rebec managed to slow her and steer her towards a big hide structure- it was like a big bowl- in the center of the camp. As they got close to it, a foul smell nearly knocked Rebec back, but she persevered and soon had the cow's lead tied to the bowl's wooden frame.

Dashing back towards Baldur, she said, "Let's get out of here!"

 

Boldir heard Baldur shout at the cow, and so did the giant audience. He'd been forced to play louder and faster to regain their attention. It worked, but now Baldur was shouting even louder, specifically to get his attention. It was time to go. Boldir was in a bind though. He couldn't move without giving away where he was hiding to all the giants, and that just wasn't an idea he was particularly fond of. He neared the end of the song for the third time now. This time, when he reached the final note, he stopped instead of repeating.

The giants stood still for several moments. Then the closest one cocked his head. He made a low grumbling noise, two more followed suit. The crowd of giants began to shift around, like they were anxious.

Boldir nervously waited for several moments. He couldn't see their faces well enough in the light to tell if they had changed their expressions. Suddenly, one of the larger giants shrugged past the others and made his way in the direction of where Boldir had played from. He quickly raised the flute back to his lips and began playing again, causing the giant to stop in his tracks. This time, he was fairly sure the large beast could pinpoint where he was. It was too close, and was looking straight down at him.

Boldir knew he had to make a choice. He could stop playing and make a run for it, or he could try to back away while playing. He decided to go with the second option as it didn't involve angering the giants. He hoped. Boldir rose from his knee, exposing his location to the entire group, and slowly backed away, still playing King of the Mountain. The group began to walk forward, but Boldir ignored them and kept backing up, a little more quickly now. His backwards walking escalated into a run and before he knew it, Boldir had spun around and, without looking back, began sprinting back toward where he could see his friends waiting, putting the flute back in his bag as he did.

The trio ran all the way back to Whiterun, first one and then the other overtaking the other, until when they saw the walls of the city up ahead Rebec suddenly started laughing. She had to stop running, and fell into Baldur, laughing so hard she couldn't stand on her own feet.

"Oh gods," she said, trying to breathe. "Did we just do that? Now you two listen to me..."  When she had her breath again, she grabbed one of Baldur's arms with her left and one of Boldir's with her right and started walking up towards the gates with her between them. "We're making a pact now. Nobody breathes a word of this to anyone until we're at least eighty years old and need something to tell the grandkids."

"Agreed." Said Boldir, still thinking about the horrible sight he'd seen while crawling.

"Agreed" said Baldur, thinking about his nether parts and getting bested by a cow.

"But don't forget what I said before we left, love. You owe me. So what are we gonna do about your debt?"

Rebec was about to snort and say something about looking at her breasts, but stopped suddenly. "My lucky rope!" It was left behind, on the cow, in the middle of a baker's dozen of confused giants. She was actually considering going back.

Baldur put his hand behind her back and pushed her along making sure she didn't try to turn back. He would hear none of it if she did.

"Nope! That's enough of that for one night. We can check tomorrow and see if they left. If they did, who knows. Maybe they left it behind. You and I are getting cleaned up and going to sleep. Boldir has to get home for Carlotta. Lest she think he ran off..."

"I loved that rope," Rebec whined as they continued on. At the market square, she turned and kissed Boldir's cheek. "Tomorrow Baldur and I need to see the healer, but tomorrow night we get to drink and embarrass you in front of Carlotta."

Boldir laughed and nodded at his friends. "I wouldn't expect anything less. Good night, you two." He said, heading off into the night for his new home, quietly whistling King of the Mountain as he went.


"The Ending of the Words is REBBABO"

It's always nice when your writing gets reinforced by the canon after you come up with it.

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Baldur, Rebec


As Boldir walked away to reunite with his love and it was now just him and Rebec, Baldur couldn't help but notice how crestfallen her expression was. Baldur couldn't comprehend how after all the hell he had just been through how in the world he could possibly feel guilty about Rebe losing her rope. But he did, poor fool. Such was the fate of one cursed with love. If he didn't at least try to do something about it, he'd feel guilty over it all night.

"I think I just might kick myself for saying this...but if it really means that much to you...we can go back for the rope. I don't think old Nessy and the rest would have taken off already."

"What?" Rebec had been looking after Boldir, wondering how the news with Carlotta would change things for them all.  When she realized Baldur was still talking about the rope, she laughed and hooked her arm with his again.  "Don't be silly.  I'll make a new rope my lucky rope.  It'll take some years of doing, though.  New title, new ship, new rope..."  She didn't say "new husband."  Sometimes she stumbled on tact by accident.  Besides, Baldur didn't feel like Toki's replacement.  It really was all new.

In their room in the Mare, she spent ten minutes furiously scrubbing at the white paint on her face.  Some of it came off, but there were splotches that would have to wear off, including a big one on her nose.   Sighing, she stared at the mirror and said over her shoulder, "I'm glad you like warpaint."

Baldur turned around to see Rebec's face reddened from where she was rubbing at the paint. The little splotches of paint along with her flushed skin made her look too cute coupled with her defeated expression.

"Hehehe, well I'm glad you're not an elf. An elf would probably require that I scrub better. There's still some dirt on me that I couldn't get off from that meager bucket of water they provided."

"We need a sauna," Rebec agreed.  "Papa built one behind his house in Dawnstar.  I think he uses it to meet women.  When we go there to visit him, we'll use it.  You'll sweat like a pig and feel like you're going to die, then you'll feel like you were newly born."

The image of some old Nord man trying his luck with women at such a ripe age tickled Baldur to no end. Even more so imagining that man being Rebec's father.

"Hahaha, he uses it to meet women does he? I think I'll like meeting your pa, Rebec. Well, we don't have anything like that here in Whiterun...but..." said Baldur with with a cunning smile on his face like a fox.

Combing out her hair, Rebec stopped.  "What sort of sly ideas are rattling around in that head of yours, Red-Snow?"

Baldur put his finger over his mouth and tapped it repeatedly as he thought about it some more. Walking over to her while looking up at the ceiling, he said, "Hmmm, would you rather me tell you...or would you rather it be a surprise?"

"I'm going to regret this, but surprise me."

Baldur looked down from the ceiling to her and let out a grin while his finger was still on his lips. Once she said this, Baldur took one of his bed tunics like the one he currently had on out of his pack by the bed and ripped off one of the sleeves. Afterwards he went back to Rebec and presented the ripped cloth.

"Close your eyes. And no this isn't what you are thinking."

"You're giving me back to the giants, aren't you."  Rebec grinned but obeyed, closing her eyes.

Baldur quickly tied the cloth around Rebec's eyes, and went back to his pack. He dumped out it's contents and placed inside Two bottles of Black Briar Juniper Berry mead, his weapons just in case, the pillows from the bed and some towels left in the room for the two. Afterwards, he dumped the pack on the bed and rolled up the covers and threw it over his back.

"Okay, love. Let's go!"

Baldur grabbed her hand and pulled her up out of her chair and made her follow him out of the hotel. The sight of the two earned quite a few strange looks from inside the place, but he didn't care. Most of the people inside would be too drunk to remember anyway. On his way out of the tavern, Baldur grabbed one of the guard's torches without asking and pulled Rebec along to the city gates in their night clothes. He didn't even stop to put on shoes.

"Shor's bones, we're not even drunk," Rebec said, stumbling a bit from the blindfold and from laughter as Baldur led her along.

Running past a soldier who looked to stop him because of the crazy sight of the two until he realized who they were, Baldur walked up to him and whispered in his ear.

"Psst, keep what you saw here tonight between us okay? Run to the barracks and bring me and the lady here some camping gear and prepare a horse for us. I'll wait here. Hurry along now!"

"Uh, y-yes sir! Right away!"

The soldier knew what time it was and he'd be damned if he was gonna be the one to piss the General off by interfering. After about ten minutes of waiting, the man finally came along with a dark brown horse trotting along behind him being lead by a rope. Baldur who was getting impatient hurriedly hopped on and pulled Rebec up with him, and told her to hold on tight. The two took off into the night outside of the city walls leaving the guards with a lot to talk about. After about eight minutes of travel on horseback, the sound of rushing waters greeted the pair, signifying that they had reached their destination.

"Well, we're here."

Giggling, Rebec felt as far away from war and intrigue as possible.  "Is that a mead fountain I hear?  Somebody better put some wood on the fire."  It was a chilly night for bedclothes, though for Nords it was just the kiss of Kyne.  "Do I get to take this blindfold off now?"

"By all means, my love. And don't worry about a fire. I'll keep you warm."

Afterwards, Baldur helped her off the horse, and removed his clothes, leaving the torch burning on a rock nearby, and his clothes nearby the horse in a pile. Once the garments were removed Baldur stood by the pond near where the river was pouring down into it.

Rebec removed the blindfold and looked around, her smile going from ear to ear.  It wasn't her pa's sauna, but it would do.  Unabashedly she started stripping clothes and took Baldur's hand, looking at the pool below them.  "Ready?"  Before he could answer, she jumped in, pulling him with her.  They plunged into the water, and Rebec came up screaming and laughing from the shock of the cold water.

Baldur didn't expect the water to be as cold as it was, but he adjusted quickly, the feel of it all around him and the crisp Skyrim air made him feel completely refreshed. Especially on his assaulted nethers from earlier. Laughing along with Rebec, Baldur took Rebec's head and dunked her back under the water before swimming away backwards to escape the retaliation.

Landlubber thinks he can get the best of me, Rebec thought slyly as she stayed underwater where he had pushed her.  Seconds ticked by and she didn't emerge.

Baldur was laughing hysterically at his little mischievous deed, and couldn't wait to see her face when she came up. Except she didn't. Seconds kept ticking on by before Baldur started to grow worried.

"What's the matter, a mudcrab caught you? Come on, quit kidding around. Rebec? Rebec!"

Baldur was terrified that he might have accidentally drowned his wife, and dived deep into the pond to try to find her so he could pull her up, completely oblivious that she was only pulling his leg. Baldur wasn't used to swimming and couldn't hold his breath for all that long, so he came up for air shortly after before breathing in deeper and trying again.

An Argonian had once told Rebec she wasn't a bad swimmer, which was the best compliment she ever got before she met Baldur.  She deftly moved around him as he dove, without a ripple to note her passing.

However when he dived again she could tell he was worried, so when Baldur came up the next time, he felt a tap on his back.  Behind him, Rebec bobbed, the moons light glinting on her big, smug grin.  "Did you forget you married a sailor?"

"Huh? Oh damnit Rebec don't do that! You're gonna give me grey hair! Come here!"

Baldur grabbed Rebec's waist and lifted her over his head before falling backwards into the water, sending them both under the surface with a loud splash. Pulling her back up with him to breathe Baldur caught her breath with a kiss as he held her in his arms while they floated in the center.

Rebec was about to tease him that he was getting those gray hairs all on his own, but he had already shut her mouth in the most effective way possible.  She brought her arms up around his back and kissed him back, refusing to think about anything but the present moment.  It was a good one.

In that moment, Baldur had felt as happy as he ever could. He had the woman of his dreams in his arms and nothing at that moment could get between them. He found himself mentally reminding him that this wasn't a dream and that she really was his wife. Often times it didn't fully sink in yet and the concept while a good one felt strange. Like it was too good to be true. It took him thirty nine years to find her, but he finally did and there wasn't anything else he wanted at that moment then to be with her for the rest of his life and then some. Staring into her eyes for a while after breaking the kiss, Baldur said, "Okay, Rebec, come on."

Baldur picked her up once more and brought her waist up to his stomach so that she would wrap her legs around him as he carried her out the water.

It wasn't easy for Rebec to let herself be carried, literally or figuratively.  She'd spent too long being tougher than the men around her- or pretending to be- and convincing herself that her independence was the most important thing.  She was light and relaxed in Baldur's arms, however.  He had disarmed her sense of threat about another person tying her down, and the only threat she felt was losing him.  With the war behind them for now, even that threat felt as distant as the stars.

Wrapping her arms around his shoulders as he walked with her up the bank, she put her mouth to his ear and whispered the words he'd had so much trouble dragging out of her back in Falkreath.

Baldur felt a tingle down his spine as she whispered the words from her that he so coveted. He was so amazed that they had finally reached the point to where he didn't need to ask her to say it anymore and he was determined to reward her for it.

"I take it that means you won't be stopping me this time then? Because I don't want to stop until I've sent you to Aetherius." said Baldur as he placed the sheets from the pack over the grass near the water while she was still holding on to him.

She wasn't sure what she had stopped him from before, but letting him surprise her had always worked out.  "Not to Sovngarde?" she asked, teasing.  "I take it you don't want a bunch of drunks watching."  Rebec began to nip at his ear, teasing him in a different way.

Baldur grew more and more eager from her teasing and chuckled both from her reply and his excitement.

"Hmm, Sovngarde may be a challenge. I don't know if I can get across the whalebone bridge with you latched on to me like this. But I'll certainly try."

Baldur got down to his knees and put Rebec down on her back, then leaned over her staring down at her with a childish smile.

"Lay back and stare into the stars...so when you start to float...you'll think that I sent you into the heavens."

After these words, Baldur slid the back of his tongue down her neck and her abdomen until he finally brought his face to her thighs.

"Oh, that's what you mea-"  With a catch of her breath, Rebec's chatter cut off abruptly.  Head falling back, she didn't have a choice but to follow orders.  Vaguely she remembered that once, for some inexplicable reason, she'd interrupted him to talk.  Soon, she didn't even remember her own name.  The heavens over Skyrim were that sweet.

 

****

 

A few hours or so had passed since the two had made love once more. Or rather thrice more to be more precise. Baldur had since set up the tent for them to sleep in, but they chose to lay under the stars. At least for a little longer. Baldur brought the other thicker sheets from the pack along with the furs for extra padding on the grass. He also brought over the two bottles of Black-Briar Juniper Berry mead.

"Sorry, I forgot to bring some tankards."

Baldur gave her the bottle and set the second one next to her as he brought the bedding over her legs and tucked his legs under them next to her.

"We'll manage."  Rebec pried the top of her bottle off and took a long drink that ended with a burp and a sigh.  Leaning against Baldur's shoulder, she watched the dragonflies buzz and dip over the water.  Eventually she asked, "Do you think Boldir will be okay?  It's a big change, getting a wife and daughter all at once."

Silently contemplating for a while, Baldur noticed there was a pair of dragonflies attached at the abdomen, signifying they were mating. Baldur smiled slightly before falling back to thoughts of Boldir. "I'm sure of it. No doubt in my mind. If he's anything like me, which we know he is, he'll do anything to be with Carlotta. I'm honestly a bit afraid of that. He may retire, not that he doesn't deserve to."

Holding her mead bottle in one hand, she ran the other along Baldur's arm and when she reached his hand, idly played with the battle-hardened fingers that had earlier touched her with such gentleness.  "What are we going to do?" she asked casually, at last coming to the question she'd been putting off.

The warmth of her skin along his in the chilly air was a sensation that he soon would not forget. All about the world felt right with her by his side, so much that her question did not trouble him. What they would do didn't matter to him as long as she was there with him. But he asked for her to clarify anyway.

"What do you mean Reb?"

"Without a war to fight.  I mean, we're still soldiers, but I'm not sure what we're supposed to do now.  Will we stay at my house in Solitude?"

"Well, first we have to bury Toki. I haven't forgotten about that. Then I'd like to visit your father. See what your side of the family is like. Then...who knows? We can do whatever we want. We could go sailing. You remember from my journal I wanted to try that ever since I heard your stories. Suri could come with us. I'll promote Brund Hammer-Fang to General with Ulfric's permission and have him train the men and go over recruiting while you and I take a vacation."

"You want to sail with me?"  Rebec smiled, then a lump formed in her throat.  His journal had talked about sailing, but she wasn't sure how serious he was about it.  The fact that he wanted to share her second greatest love with her meant more than she'd realized it would.

All other questions could wait for answers.  Resting her head on Baldur's shoulder and lacing her fingers through his, Rebec thought that this must be what perfect contentment felt like.  "That sounds like a plan."

Baldur was in high spirits and he remembered the last time he felt this good was back in Falkreath the other night almost like this one, but not nearly as satisfying. He thought back to the question he asked her and he remembered that there was something bothering him but he let it go since he had already pushed Rebec past her normal emotional bounds. But now she was so further beyond that point that he saw no reason not to ask.

"Rebec, remember the night I asked you why you loved me? Did you have anything else to say after that? Or rather, ask?"

She didn't have to think back.  The question had already echoed in her mind that night.  She was still a little afraid to ask it, but not so much anymore.  "I was wondering the same thing in reverse.  Why you love me."

"Eh, I dunno. Nice legs?" said Baldur.

Laughing, Rebec jabbed him with her half-empty mead bottle.  "You're supposed to say 'nice armor.'  So they know you're a Nord."

"Heh, okay seriously. When I first met you, well, you read the journal so I can't really hide what I first thought of you when we met. It wasn't until later that I realized I misjudged you. A lot of it came from my low opinion of women already. Bias that comes from my relationship with my mother. Or lack there of. Anyway after I could see I was wrong, I started looking more to you, not as just a woman but a person. You've heard me tell you this a hundred times already. You're strong, independent and all that. Someone calls you a harlot, you either don't care or slug 'em one and dare them to say it again. You are who you are and you don't apologize for it. To any man, or any woman. I know full grown men who don't have half the balls that you do. To simply put it...I admire you. And...I'm thankful to you."

Baldur paused for a few seconds and closed his eyes.

"Maybe this isn't the most romantic thing to bring up right now, but back in Rommulas, or in Falkreath prison with Lorgar...being in charge in a war I realize I have a mean streak in me. With Lorgar it was wrong but necessary, but at Rommulas? Sure I did it out of revenge and it was my enemy, but I never told you that deep down...I enjoyed the carnage. The pain I inflicted. And not just simple nord fighting, I mean cruel cruel acts of savagery. I projected my hate for my father onto them as well and I wanted more of that. I wanted to hurt them more. It was more than fighting for my country. I just wanted to brutalize them. But then this rough and tough cursing spitting sailor comes along with all her sailor stories and suddenly all my anger is gone.

Replaced by this enigma, this Red-Eye girl. She's everything I wanted to avoid or so I thought, yet she was also everything I couldn't ignore. You filled my every thought to the point of obsession before I could even understand why. And when I met you again here in Falkreath I started to see. Especially after the battle when I thought you might've been hurt. I cared for you, and I cared what you thought about me. Suddenly my hate wasn't so potent, and it was back to simply a desire to protect my land. Until the torture and the blood dragoning of course. I told myself it was nothing and I could do it in front of you if I wanted. But as you know I couldn't. Don't you see? You keep all of that locked away. Better yet you took it out. I'm not a good man on my own. I'm not. But around you...I'm something else. Different...better...good. You make me a better man.  You bring out the good in me. Make me write silly poetry and all that, heh. That is why. That is why I love you Rebec Red-Snow."

Listening to Baldur explain his feelings, it was hard for Rebec to believe that he was talking about her, except for the swearing and fighting.  That was the hardest thing for her to believe, that he didn't really prefer a fine town woman or at least someone he could take home to mother.  If he'd had a nice mother, that is.

She was silent for a time before finally responding.  "You're a good man, whatever you say.  Even if all that about Rommulas is true, you wouldn't have changed unless you wanted to.  About the other...  Ah, damn, you know I'm not good at this.  I'm just really glad I brought that wagon to Neugrad."  Little tears glistened in her eyes and she tried to laugh to chase them away, but that made things worse.  Sitting up, she drew a long swig on her mead to keep from making too much of a fool of herself.

Baldur noticed the tears swelling up in her eyes when she took a swig and chuckled at how right he was. Baldur turned his head to speak while he smiled softly.

"I was right. You're tougher than a lot of men I know. Even me. You're struggling to keep tears behind, I already shed some while you weren't looking. Heh, you tell anyone...ANYONE...and I'll kill you. I'm not embarrassed to let you see however. Congratulations Rebec, you've made me a breton. If my big nordic ass can shed them in front of you, I know you can. Boy, I'm gonna need to punch a few trees or something to make up for this tomorrow."

"Stop it," she ordered, laughing at the thought of Baldur in some fancy little Breton breeches and half-coat, busting out the fabric because they were several sizes too small for him.  The tears were coming nor matter what she did, though.  Putting down her mead, Rebec turned and let him see them.  There was no sense hiding anything from him.

Baldur didn't laugh or chuckle, he just smiled genuinely at at her, then brought her face to his for a long passionate kiss. Her tears had fallen into his mouth more than once, reminding him of the salty vast seas that she loved so much. After a while, he started to feel the exhaustion of the day once more coupled with all the emotion that he had just expressed. But there was just one more thing he wanted to do. One last thing that would make this night perfect.

"So, would you like to rest in the tent, or would you rather sleep under Kyne's blanket?"

"Out here will do just fine."  After being cooped up in Falkreath under constant threat of death, it felt good to be free.

"Then lay back and rest my love. Let me hold you in my arms and I will whisper a song into your ear and ensure that your dreams are as sweet as you are."

Rebec wasn't about to argue, even about her being sweet, which wasn't a word people often used for her.  She lay back on his arm and drew the furs up over them.  At first she held his eyes, then remembered she was supposed to close hers.

Baldur brought his mouth to her ear once she had gotten comfortable. After she settled, he started to get excited, or nervous, he couldn't tell but he took a few deep breaths, and let his love for Rebec bring the words he needed. His song was sung in a low tone, almost a whisper but not quite. Even the parts with more exclamation to them were rather tame, almost like a lullaby.
 

"As I lay to retire…with my heart's desire,

I see the stars and the moooons,

I've seen Skyrim freed from the Southern Empire,

I've seen the sun in the noon,

 

I've seen the sun set, but I did not fret,

For next I would see Kyne's aurora,

Listen to me my wife for I've seen in my life,

Kyne's glory in green luscious flora,

 

But none of these things cause this man to sing,

These are not what inspire me,

None of these can make me put my weapons down,

Or make me a fool singing poetry,

 

It's a force of nature, the bane of all boats,

An absolute terror in the Sea of Ghosts,

Listen to what I say, hear the voice in my neck,

The most beautiful thing is Kyne's daughter Rebec!

The most beautiful thing is Kyne's daughter Rebec!

 

There is something I've seen when I approached death's door,

It was the Hall of Valor, the great house of Shor,

It was heaven oh yes, beautiful this is true,

Yet nothing in Sovngarde holds a candle to you,

 

Dibella…Mara…not even Kyne,

I desire no goddess, for one’s already mine,

Eyes blue like the ocean and blue like the sky,

I could stare into her eyes ‘til the day that I die,

 

For she is the thing that makes this man sing,

She is the thing that inspires me,

She is all that can make me put my weapons down,

And make me a fool singing poetry,

 

She's a force of nature, the bane of all boats,

An absolute terror in the Sea of Ghosts,

Listen to what I say, hear the voice in my neck,

The most beautiful thing is Kyne's daughter Rebec!

The most beautiful thing is Kyne's daughter Rebec!

The most beautiful thing is Kyne's daughter Rebec!"

 

A smile crept to Rebec's lips when he started singing, and before long she had to steal a peek at his face.  She hardly knew the woman in his song, but hadn't her life been turned upside down in the past year?  Losing her ship seemed like it would be the biggest adjustment, but having General Baldur Red-Snow write love poems about her was a bigger one.  And better, by an Abecean mile.

Rebec didn't want to spoil it by saying something stupid, but knew he liked to hear what she was thinking.  Opening her eyes again, she brought her hand up to touch his cheek.  "You make me very happy, Baldur."

"I can't fully express what you make me feel, Rebec. Until they make up a new word to fit it, happy will have to do. I love you. And I can't live without you. I won't."

"You won't have to.  Not if I have anything to say about it."  She leaned forward and gave him a long, tender kiss, then put her head on his chest and forced all other thoughts away.  They had survived and were together.  Nothing else mattered.

"Good, nothing helps me sleep better knowing you're here with me. Speaking of which, we should probably get on that. I can hum the tune until you fall to sleep. Would you like that?"

"You might lure some lovesick mudcrab," she said, laughing sleepily.  Clasping his hand, she settled in to her comfortable spot and waited for his voice.

As he hummed his tune, he wondered how long this period of peace would last before they were called to war once more. He contemplated just leaving and staying with Boldir, but he was in a more awkward position. He was a good General and his country needed those in the coming future. He couldn't retire just yet. If he did, there may not be a safe place in Tamriel for him to retire to. But for now that was a distant problem. What was here, what mattered now in this moment was that the war was over and Rebec was safely in his arms. He wasn't sure if she was asleep, but he soon was regardless. Dreaming of a ship at sea with him standing at Rebec's side with kids like before.

It's always nice when your writing gets reinforced by the canon after you come up with it.

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Witchie
Imperial Palace
 
As the darkness dissipated and the screams faded away, he found himself walking in a cold pine forest. The sky was cloudy and a light fog was hanging in the air, the wind was still. The clothes was nothing more than rags and did nothing to keep the cold out. His stomach was aching and the fatigue lied heavy on his entire body. He didn't walk for long before he bent a fir branch out of his way and he saw a clearing and a few yards away was a cliff, and beyond and far below the cliff he could see the pine forest continuing into the horizon. But at the very edge at the cliff was a young girl standing with her back towards him, looking into the horizon, she had long brown hair and her dress was torn and dirty. He took a few more steps towards her, then she turned towards him and he could see her young sad face as she looked back at him. 
 
"I'm sorry brother." she said in low and sad voice. 
 
And then she fell backwards, down the cliff. The heart sank as he, paralyzed, could only stare at what happened before his eyes. He wanted to rush towards the cliff, but he couldn't order a single muscle to move. His own mind screamed at it's own helplessness. He hoped that the fall might have been minor, but he knew he was only lying to himself. As the truth crept into his mind like the cold that now crept up his spine, he realized, that he was now alone. 
 
Witchie opened his eyes as he heard banging on the door. And some servant was yelling something through it, probably for him to wake up but he was too drowsy to make out the words. Soon the banging stopped and the servant left. He sat up in the bed and rubbed eyes with the hands, trying to get the drowsiness away. The nightmares were getting worse. Ever since he had left the imperial camp and the maids behind the nightmares had grown increasingly intense. 
He stepped out the bed and picked up his new clothes. The clothes had been made at one of the finer tailors in the Imperial City. Luckily he had managed to get it made in a nordic fashion. It looked like the noble's clothes the jarls use to wear. The base color was black and the clothes had rich decoration made mostly in silver and some in blood red. It had white fur from a snow bear on the shoulders as well but, the rest of the clothing wasn't that thick and was more adapted to the warmer climate here in Cyrodiil. 
He left his room, which was placed quite high up in the palace so when you looked out a window you could see the whole city in that direction stretch out before you, and was walking down a corridor when he saw an male altmer, apparently a servant which could be seen on the more plain clothing, standing by an open window and leaning out through it, using his crossed arms as support. 
 
"What are you doing?" Witchie asked as he walked up to the man. 
 
"I'm just enjoying the view and taking some fresh air." the elf replied without taking his eyes off the city. 
 
Witchie took a quick look around to make sure no one was around and then walked up to the man and looked out the window himself, pretending to do the same thing as the elf. After a few seconds he lowered his gaze downwards and the elf noticed this as well and looked down, curious to see what had drawn the wizard's interest. As he looked down he also leaned even further out the window and before he could look up again Witchie placed his left hand on the elf's back and pushed. The elf fell out the window and screamed as he plunged towards the ground. Witchie could hear the screaming fading away for a couple of seconds before it suddenly stopped in complete silence. He chuckled and continued walking down the hallway. 
 
I can't believe he fell for that.
 
After eating breakfast he spent the rest of the day continuing working on the wards in the palace. These wards he placed were much stronger than the last ones and would dampen almost all magic in the building into nonexistence while leaving the spells he and Dales used unaffected. When he was done for the day and was walking back to his chambers he saw a woman in a fine light blue dress and long black hair, sitting on bench in corner the room he just passing by. She was crying with her face buried in her hands. Witchie recognized her as Dales stepmother Venusa, though she had been quite happy ever since the emperor died and why she was suddenly crying so heavily, sparked Witchie's curiosity. She didn't even seem to notice him as he walked up to her or maybe she simply didn't care. 
 
"Why are you crying?" Witchie asked with a not so sympathetic tone. 
 
But no answer came and Witchie was about to leave and had taken just two steps when she finally spoke through all the tears.
 
"No, don't go." she said in a low and sorrowful voice, "I don't want to be left alone again. It's just that... It's just that... You know the man that fell out the window earlier today?" she sniffled, "Well, ever since that cursed Amaund had forsaken me for that damn hag Magdela, I was left out in the cold. I was not allowed outside the palace or to really meet with any people without the his permission. It became so lonely here in the palace. But then I met a servant, a young elven man. He kept me company." the crying got more intense, "And now he's dead!" she said loudly with a voice signifying it was on the breaking point and then she quiet for a couple of seconds and then went back to the low and sorrowful voice, "He always liked the view from the top floors of the palace. He also liked to open the windows to get some fresh air as he was stuck inside the palace all day. He said that it helped clear his head. I was always a little worried he might get a little careless and..." her voice broke and she couldn't squeeze out another word. 
 
Witchie didn't even know what to say or do as he wasn't used to these kinds of emotional situations. He simply just stood there without moving, contemplating if he should leave or stay and if he should say something in if then, what to say. He didn't care for the dead elf or the fact that the elf had been her lover, but it was more that she said she didn't want him to leave her to her loneliness that kept him from simply shrug on move along. 
 
The girl looked up at him as the crying started to subside, her face was rather beautiful yet filled with sadness and her green eyes was gleaming from the tears that ran down in a stream along her cheeks. "Please don't go." she said and Witchie could hear on her voice and see it in her eyes that she was begging to not be left alone. 
 
But before Witchie could even make a decision about what he was going to do next he heard a rather upset male voice from behind, "I will not allow you to take advantage of my daughter when she mourns the death of her husband." 
 
Witchie looked around and saw a man looking to be in his mid fifties with brown short hair that some gray in it and no beard. He was dressed in grand clothes, signifying his high status among the nobility. He was an imperial even though his daughter looked more like breton. Witchie's was first filled with the instinct of scaring of forcing the man into submission at the notion that the old noble was telling him what he should and shouldn't do. But he quickly suppressed the instinct as he reminded himself that he wasn't in a position where he could be his old dominant self. Instead he was trying to figure out what to say in his defense but it wasn't easy to come up with something good to say when the thought of forcing the man onto his knees and have him swear fealty to him constantly popped up in his head. So he was left standing there without a proper response to what the old noble had just said. 
 
"Come daughter!" the man said in very commanding and demanding tone after a few seconds with no answer. 
 
Venusa got up from the bench and walked up besides the man with head her head down, and Witchie could spot that she still looked sad but in different way, almost like the sadness was mixed with a little anxiety or maybe even fear, but he wasn't sure. The man put his arm around her shoulders and led her out of the room. As they had almost walked out through the doorway the man leaned his head towards her ear and spoke in a low voice that Witchie was almost not able to hear. He couldn't make out all the words but what he could make out was that he would keep her company, and the way he said it gave the notion of something that filled Witchie with disgust. Venusa just lowered her head even more as they left the room. 
Now standing in an empty room, Witchie was trying to wrap his head around what had just transpired. But after a few minutes of thought he decided it might be best to just forget about the whole ordeal. He went back to his chambers to retire for the day and as he was lying in his bed he knew what awaited him as the words echoed in his mind. 
 
"I'm sorry brother."

It's always nice when your writing gets reinforced by the canon after you come up with it.

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Velan Quintus
Imperial Camp
Noon
 

Velan was excited.

I can't wait to see how much better Gergio has really gotten. This will be much more intense than last time.

Velan then walked to the agreed spot, where there were was about six other Legion soldiers standing around.

No doubt here to witness the festivities. I wonder where...

Just then, Gergio arrived, wading through two of the soldiers.

"Velan! You made it!"

"Of course I did Gergio! I'm not one to miss the opportunity for a good fight!"

Gergio laughed.

"That is true, my friend! Now how about we just get right down to business. I'm ready to show you just how much better I've become."

"That's my kind of man! Getting right to it," Velan said with a smile. "So lets start!"

The small group of soldiers gave Velan and Gergio some room.

Velan drew his weapon, as Gergio did the same.

This should be good.

Gergio moved first. He rushed in and led with a swift sword thrust towards Velan's stomach. Velan saw it the whole way, and dodged it easily.

He couldn't have expected that to...

Thud!

As Gergio's foot smacked Velan's face, he realized he had focused too much on the sword strike. He had no time to dwell on his mistake though, because Gergio was attempting to follow up his successful kick with a left hook. Velan wasn't about to let that happen.

He sidestepped and threw a kick towards Gergio's thigh. Gergio saw it, and attempted to jump over it. He was successful at dodging the kick, but wasn't able to block Velan's thunderous uppercut. Gergio did manage to sweep Velan's leg before he hit the ground though.

In the struggle, both Velan and Gergio had lost their weapons. They both scrambled to their feet. Gergio was the first up, and planted a knee into Velan's chest. Absorbing the blow, Velan made his way to his feet to see Gergio throwing a right hand.

He ducked the punch and countered with a huge left hook. Gergio sidestepped the hook and attempted to deliver a hook of his own. Velan caught the hook with his hand, but was hit by a left jab. That was followed up by a kick that also landed. Next Gergio attempted to land another hook.

Seeing the hook, Velan shot underneath the blow and took Gergio to the ground. Once on the ground, Velan took control.

He threw a flurry of punches that were blocked. Then, using the punches as a distraction, he slipped into position. Then he locked Gergio in a vice like choke. Gergio struggled for a couple seconds, but then wisely gave up.

Getting back to his feet, he helped Gergio up.

"That was a great fight. You truly pushed me to the limit."

"Thanks Velan. It was a lot of fun."

"Yes. Maybe next time you'll get me."

Gergio laughed.

"I can only hope. I'll see you around Velan."

"You too Gergio."

It's always nice when your writing gets reinforced by the canon after you come up with it.

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Eduard Laenius
Outside of Falkreath
Night

 

Eduard was about to try and get some sleep when he noticed a letter neatly placed on his bed.

That's probably Jon.

Eduard picked up the letter and opened it up. He was right about the author. He began to read the letter.
 

Eduard,

I have questioned the mercenary. Here is what I obtained:

His name is Clinton. He was hired to capture you by Baro (yes, that Baro) for the price of 500 up front, with a 1,000 completion pay. He tries to be defiant, but he caves easily. He isn't too spectacular.

Oh, the antidote is 10 feet directly to the east of the tree I tied him to. Also, he is tied up in the spot I told you about earlier.

I must be getting back to Livia. I've been away for almost 6 hours now. I'll speak with you another time.

-Jon
 

Eduard was about to walk away when he noticed that there was another letter on his bed.

He must have forgotten something. Rare occurrence for him.

He picked up the letter and began to read again.
 

Eduard,

It seems that I forgot something in my original letter. The thing I forgot to tell you is that I already know where Baro is. After you finish doing whatever you'd like with him I'd like you to come meet with me.

The place I want you to meet me is 2 15 0 0. I'll see you there.

-Jon
 

Always with the codes Jon. 2 15 0 0? What was that from... Flashfire? No it was... Shadowstream! Right I remember now. N E S W. 2 miles North, 15 miles East.

Eduard folded up the letters and put it in his pocket.

Time to pay Clinton a visit. I have my own questions for this idiot. And Baro... I haven't heard that name in a while. Not since...

Eduard cringed as the memories of Baro returned to him.

This Clinton has no idea who he is working for, Eduard thought as he began to walk toward the spot Jon told him about.

As he walked he thought about other things, attempting to take his mind off of Baro. All of the sudden the scars on his back burned with pain once again, as they had years ago.

At least we are close to nailing down the people threatening Liv. Then I can finally get back to my living my own life. Maybe see if I can't get that nurse to keep me company again.

As Eduard continued to think about what he would do with his time once Livia was safe, he eventually arrived at his destination. He spotted Clinton, who was still incapacitated by the poison.

From the date on the letter, he should still be alive.

Eduard then walked to where Jon said the antidote was and picked it up. He took it over to the motionless mercenary and injected it into him. Within a couple minutes the would-be kidnapper began to stir.

"Good evening Clinton."

"Wh... where am I?"

"Somewhere outside of Falkreath. Where you are really isn't that important."

Becoming more aware of his surroundings, Clinton began to realize what was going on.

"Wait a minute... Eduard? What the hell is going on here? Jon said he would release me!"

"Calm down. Jon did release you. I just captured you. I have some questions that I want you to answer for me. After that I will let you go under a few conditions."

"What conditions?"

"I ask the questions here. I'll tell you the conditions once you answer the questions."

"Fair enough. This time though, I want a promise that I will be released for good. Not just given to someone else. Could you at least just promise me that?"

"Fine. Now my first question. What all do you know about Baro?"

"To tell you the truth, not much. All I know is that he is a very rich man who is paying to have you captured and delivered to him. Last time I saw him was in Cyrodiil."

"I figured as much. You have no idea who you are dealing with. Do you want to know want to know why he is after me?"

"Uhh... if it will make you happy."

"Whatever. Anyways, back when I was still in the game, I was recruited into Baro's gang of mercenaries. This was back when he wasn't that big. At first it was nice, with all the money and what not. The women that came with the money weren't bad either. Then... things changed. Baro became... psychotic. He was paranoid and ruthless. I tried to ignore it, but when he asked me to kill a kid for a couple pieces, I told him to fuck off. His response?"

Eduard took off the top part of his armor and revealed to Clinton the many small but gruesome scars that littered his lower back.

"As you can see, he didn't take my refusal well. He had me locked up, and tortured me for a week. Luckily I had made quite a few friends during my time with his group. A few of them ended up breaking me out of there, and I never returned. Anyways, enough of that. My next question for you is this. Did you even do your homework before you attempted this?"

Clinton was taken off-guard by the question.

"Well... uhh... sort of. I mean, I figured out that you were an ex-mercenary turned Legion soldier. We also figured out that you had a sister and that you really cared about her. We also found out where she lived."

"I'd give that about an eighty percent. It is good enough for most people, but that wasn't enough here. What you forgot to look into was my track record. There you would have found that messing with my sister was actually a horrendous idea, although it sounds good on paper. Anyone who has attempted to hurt, capture, or kill Livia has been brutally murdered. By me. Personally. I've done some pretty nasty things in order to scare others from attempting to hurt her to get to me. Usually it works. Until someone like you comes along, and doesn't look into it. Next time, spend more time on planning. You'll have better results. On a positive note, you'll be the first person not to be brutally murdered. Not because of me though."

I have a promise to keep.

"I'll be sure to keep that in mind. So... is that all?"

"I said no questions. However you are right. That is all. Now as for the conditions of your release."

"Yeah, sure. Anything, as long as I get to live."

"Alright then. Condition 1: You will never accept work or even have contact with Baro ever again."

Not that this one matters, since he will be dead soon anyways.

"Fine by me. After what you showed me, I wouldn't want to anyways."

"Good. Condition 2: Stay the hell away from my sister. This is zero tolerance. I don't want you near her for any reason. If you hear she is in a city that you wish to go to, wait until she leaves. If you find out she is traveling the same path as you, get on a different path. If you fail to adhere to this condition, I will track you down and skin you. Alive. Understand?"

"Uhh... Yeah sure no problem. I'm not willing to find out how serious you are. Not after all of this."

"Good. Remember those conditions along with the advice I gave you, and you will do fine. I already told you what will happen if you decide to disobey me. Now, I'm going to knock you out, and then release you. Just because I'm letting you go, doesn't mean I trust you at all. Also, consider Baro's contract forfeit. He won't pay you anyways. He only pays his own men."

Then as he said, Eduard walked up to Clinton and knocked him out. He then untied him and then left the area. He had to prepare to meet up with Jon.
 

~~-~~--~~-~~


Eduard Laenius, Jon- Jon's Cabin, Day


Eduard was just about to arrive at the location that was vaguely described by Jon in the short letter he had left him. He could see a medium sized cabin not too far off. He could also see what appeared to be a thin web. He knew better than that though.

Traps? Why would Jon need traps here?

Then Eduard felt the familiar nudge.

"Jon? You want to help me through this field of death?"

Jon, appearing on the top of a tree, began to laugh.

"Oh don't worry. I took the liberty of disarming them all this morning. Let's get inside. We have much to discuss. Besides, I believe lunch will be ready."

"Lunch? Sounds good to me. Let's get stepping."

As they neared the front door of the cabin, Jon stopped Eduard.

"Oh there is... something I didn't tell you."

"Alright... and just what did you not tell me?"

Just then the front door burst open, revealing a sight Eduard hadn't seen in a while.

"Brother!" Livia beamed, running out to hug her older brother.

"I'll be inside. Take your time guys," Jon said while entering the cabin.

Eduard wanted to be mad that Jon, didn't warn him ahead of time, but he was overwhelmed by happiness. Finally he had been reunited with his sister.

"Liv! It's so great to see you! How have you been sister?"

"I've been great! All thanks to Jon of course! He's been good to me. He even let me surprise you here today! How have you been Ed?"

"Overall I've had an average time. Some good times, and some bad times. That's all behind me for right now though."

"Whatever you say Eduard. I'm just glad you are alright. Although, can I see the cut on your chest? I've been learning a lot about healing from Jon's friend for the past couple years."

Eduard smiled. It was rare for him to have more than a half smile, but he couldn't help himself.

"Sure. Although it is pretty much fully healed now."

Eduard revealed the scar that Rebec had left him, and Jodun had made worse.

Livia inspected it for a second, before using a healing spell on the wound.

"There was still a small infection lurking deep in that wound. I got it though."

"Thanks Liv. Now I am starving, can we please go inside?"

"Sure! I cooked the venison Jon brought me last night."

"Anythings better than what I've been eating," Eduard mumbled as he entered the cabin after his sister.

Jon was sitting at the table when Eduard walked in.

"We'll discuss our plans later tonight."

"Sounds good."

Just then, Livia came out with the food. The smell hit Eduard like a hammer.

So... good. I can't wait.

Eduard was the first to grab food. He didn't let his stomach overcome his manners though.

"Thanks for making lunch Liv. And thanks for bagging the meal Jon."

They both responded with the same words.

"No problem."

After that, Eduard dug in. Even though he remembered Livia only being a slightly above average cook, her food tasted so much better at the moment. It was probably a combination of eating crappy food and her getting better, but it didn't matter to Eduard. The food was good, and for the time being, so was life. He didn't even realize Livia asked him if he liked it or not. She got her answer without words though.
 

~~ 8 hours later ~~
 

After spending the day with Livia, Eduard met with Jon in his office in the cabin to talk business. Jon was standing up next to a big board with a ton of information and drawings on it.

"Alright. What do we have?"

"Amazing luck, and quite a bit of intel on Baro. Courtesy of my associates. Let's get started."

"Let's. Just give me the intel, and I'll give us a plan."

"Alright. It turns out that Baro has relocated to a location that will be favorable to us. It is about thirty five miles out. It is a small camp. Apparently he has been struggling as of late. Reports show that he has slipped further down the road to crazy. The only things keeping him afloat right now are his minions and the stockpile of gold he built up while he was still semi-sane. Anyways, the camp has 10 structures. This is the layout."

Jon handed Eduard a map of the camp.

I had forgotten how good his prep was.

"Now the first 4 structures are all small tents. Nothing special. They hold 2 mercenaries each. The fifth structure is a small hut. My theory is that this is the meeting area. Reports show that there are anywhere from 6-8 mercs in this hut at any given time, except between the hours of 11 AM to 1:30 PM, when the number jumps to 14-22. The next four structures are just more small tents, two mercenaries a piece. Last up on the list is a medium sized building. This is where Baro is located. Before we move on, we should talk about patrols. To be quite honest, there isn't too much going on here. There are 4 guards who circle the camp at all times. The patterns they take aren't all that effective, but for reference they are indicated by the dotted paths on the camp layout as well as the time cards for each position. The next intel is pretty exciting, as we usually can't get this much information. However, it turns out one of your old pals from the group is still with Baro, and he was willing to spill some information. Don't worry, your friend won't be there the day we go in. He will be 'out on business'. As in I just had him kidnapped and released safely in a place where he couldn't betray us. Just a precaution. Anyways, Baro's building has 6 rooms. Each of the first 3 rooms are patrolled by a single skilled mercenary. The room after that is guarded by two skilled mercs. That brings us to the last room, Baro's personal chambers. The layout of the building is on this more detailed map."

Jon handed Eduard a second map.

"That is all. Let's begin strategy planning," Jon said, pulling off the piece of paper he was using to give his report. Underneath was a clean piece of paper, other than the layouts of the camp and buildings that were on it.

Alright, my turn.

"Now the layout of the camp is pretty standard. It's two tents on the right, two on the left, and then building. Repeat that, and you have the entirety of the camp. I was pretty underwhelmed by the size of Baro's camp. I guess his insanity has really taken a toll on his business. Anyways, first things first, our entry point. Through the detailed drawings, I was able to see that there is a small gap in the left side of the entrance gate. We should be able to fit through it quite easily. Next, the first four tents. The first two tents that we will see are the ones on the left. They are approximately 35 feet away from each other, and separated by three bushes and two small trees. This means that after we eliminate guard number one, whose route we can ambush from a ditch just beside his route, we will ambush the tent on the far left first. I'm going to suggest we use simple tactics on it. Sneak in and kill the occupants. Then we hide the bodies back in the tent. Standard stuff. Next we move onto the next tent. Here we are more visible on the ground. So we will go up in one of the small trees. It should have a clean view into the next tent, where I should be able to dispatch both the occupants. Next up, it is a straight shot through the open to the next tent. We could avoid it, but I would like as few people to be alive as possible when we escape. Since it is in the open, I'm going to have you work your magic here, while I sneak through past the tent. Once you take care of the third tent, we can make our way through some bushes and eliminate the occupants of the last of the first set of tents. Strategy will be the same as we used on tent one. Kill and hide. You follow me so far?"

"Of course I do. I'm always interested in your gameplans. Now, what is next?"

"Next up is the first major structure. We are going to avoid it completely, instead moving into a bush that is near one of the guards patrol routes. When he comes by, we'll snag him. Then we will sneak up to the first of the second set of tents. It will be the one on the far right. I'll take the two occupants of this one, as speed will be key during this stage. At the same time that I am taking care of the first tent, you are going to have to teleport in and eliminate the two mercenaries in the second tent which is almost in plain view of the first one. Once that is done, we will intercept the third guard here, using your abilities to quickly hide the body. After that we will move onto the final two tents. The first one will be a standard one. Kill and hide. Next up, we will eliminate the last tent and the last patrolling guard in the same move. At one point in his route, he will come into view of the final tent. At that time, you will eliminate the occupants of the tent while I dispatch the guard. We'll hide the guard in the tent with the others. Then we sneak into Baro's building. Once we find a satisfactory way of entering the building, we will move quickly, dispatching each guard. Then, I'll take Baro while you watch my back. Then we will take this escape route. Understood?"

"Crystal clear my friend. I must hand it to you, this seems like a lot of fun. Now for my favorite part of all of our planning sessions. What are we going to call the operation?"

"Operation Whiplash."

Jon chuckled. Irony was always his favorite.

"We leave tomorrow in the morning. That will give you enough time to say a temporary good bye to Livia, and me enough time to reset the traps."

"Why not just reset them now?"

"I never have them activated when I'm around. Anyways, I'm going to get some sleep. We've got a long day ahead of us."

"That we do Jon. A long day indeed. I'm going to head to bed as well. Where is my bed anyways?"

"There is a small makeshift bed in Livia's room. At least it's better than the one you were sleeping in."

"Also true. Good night Jon."
 

~~-~~--~~-~~
 

Eduard Laenius, Jon, Livia- Jon's Cabin/Baro's Camp, Morning/Night

Eduard woke up early, to begin preparing his equipment. To his surprise, his sister woke up as well.

That's not like her to be up so early. At least that's not how I remember it.

He continued to prepare his equipment, when Livia began to speak.

"Are you going away?"

"Yes. I have some unfinished business. Besides, once Jon and I take this guy down, you'll be safe."

"So you're going to take down the guy who has been trying to kidnap me?"

"Correct."

"How dangerous is it going to be?"

"Dangerous enough Liv. Jon and I can handle it though."

"You better. When do you think you'll be back?"

"If all goes well, probably tomorrow night. We're going to head for the camp in an hour. Then we're going to wait until nightfall. After we finish the job, we'll sleep until morning. Then we'll head back here."

"Alright... just be careful okay? I know you're good at what you do, and so is Jon, but I don't want either of you to get hurt because of me."

"Will do. Anyways, I've got to go and meet up with Jon now."

Livia walked over to Eduard and gave him a small metal bracelet.

"Livia, you know I don't wear jewelry."

"Please? It brought me good luck."

"N..... fine. Thanks for looking out for me Liv. I've gotta go now. I love you sis. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Love you too Ed. Come back in one piece, understand?"

"Loud and clear," Eduard said as he left the room to meet up with Jon.
 

~~17 hours later (11 PM)~~
 

After spending the whole day traveling and then waiting for nightfall, the time had finally come.

Time to finish this once and for all.

"Alright Jon, you ready?"

"Always."

"Then let's do this. On me."

Eduard advanced towards the camp, using his surroundings to cover his advance. Close behind him was Jon, advancing just as stealthily. Eventually, they approached the hole in the gate that was noted by Jon's associate.

"Hang on. We wait for 39 seconds starting... now."

After 39 tantalizing seconds, the two friends silently entered the camp. Not 15 seconds after they entered, the first guard turned the corner and walked next to where Eduard and Jon were waiting. As soon as he was within striking distance, Jon pounced on the guard and slit his throat. He then hid the body behind a tree. Not that it would matter, the guard's paths didn't overlap for whatever reason.

Probably some crazy scheme by Baro.

After dispatching the first guard, the duo wasted no time sneaking up to the first tent. Inside were two mercenaries. One was sleeping while the other was reading a book.

"On 3."

When Eduard held up the sign, they sprung into action. Eduard threw a dagger that hit the reading mercenary right in the throat. Jon had already closed the distance and put a sword through the sleeping mercs heart, and a dagger through his neck. Jon always was extremely thorough.

So far so good.

Next up was the second tent. As planned, Eduard climbed into the tree overlooking the second tent. This time both of the occupants were sleeping. He lined up the shots, and took both of them down with well placed arrows.

"Not bad."

"Thanks. Let's move."

Making their way down from the tree, it was time for one of the more difficult parts of the operation. Jon had to teleport across the open part of the camp and eliminate the occupants of the next tent. Eduard had to stick to the shadows and find a way to get through without being spotted, since he couldn't teleport.

Eduard watched as Jon disappeared and then reappeared near the next tent. Then Eduard stuck to the shadows cast by some of the trees in the camp, just barely making it past a passing mercenary.

That was guard three. I'll see him later.

He made it to the fourth tent around the same time that Jon did. This was another standard kill and hide. They slit the throats of the two mercenaries who inhabited the tent, then moved on.

They slipped around the small building as planned moved into position in the bushes. After about a 70 second wait, the guard finally came into reach. Eduard slipped out of the bush and ended the guards life quickly. The mercenary barely had time to struggle before he was killed.

They quickly moved onto the next two tents, which were the most difficult set of tents in the entire first part of the operation. Eduard took his position near the first tent, while Jon got into position near the second tent.

Once Eduard dropped his hand, they moved. Eduard jumped into the first tent, slitting the first mercenary's throat instantly. The other guard woke up and was about to make a sound when Eduard punched him in the jaw and then stabbed him in the neck repeatedly.

That... was close.

At the same time, Jon had lunged into the second tent and stabbed the first mercenary to death when the second one tried to punch Jon. He easily evaded the groggy mercenaries punch and responded by ending the mans life.

Only two more tents to go. First up though is the next guard.

Jon was up for this one. Once the guard was in sight, Jon became invisible, sneaking up on the mercenary and stabbing him in the back. He then quickly dragged the body over to a nearby bush, and signaled to Eduard that it was okay to advance.

Arriving at the next tent, Eduard and Jon worked fast. They were in and out of the tent in less then 5 seconds, leaving both the occupants dead.

Just one more. I'm coming for you Baro.

Finally arriving at the last tent, the pair had to wait for the arrival of the last guard, so they could assure that everyone was dead. In about 50 seconds, the guard arrived. Eduard lined up his shot, and this time waited for Jon's signal. Once Jon's hand dropped, it was time to finish the last of the tents and guards. Eduard fired an arrow that pierced the guards throat, while Jon went inside and dispatched both the mercenaries in the tent.

"Alright, now to find a way in to Baro."

"Way ahead of you. There's a small window that's cracked open right by the entrance. If it isn't a trap, this might be the luckiest operation we've ever had."

Eduard glanced down at the bracelet Livia gave him before he left.

Oh come on Eduard. There's no way... right? This bracelet isn't even enchanted. Just a coincidence...

Eduard didn't want to admit that he thought the bracelet was actually lucky. In any case, it was time to finish Operation Whiplash.

The deadly duo arrived at the cracked window and peered inside. The guard was sitting at a table facing the door. If they could slip through the window, they could pass right through. Except the window wouldn't open enough for them to slide through silently.

Looks like he has to die.

There was just enough space for Eduard to put his bow in the window and take out the guard. After that they both quickly slipped through the window as quietly as they possibly could.

They moved into the second room, where Jon teleported and lodged a dagger in the guards throat. However the guard in the next room must have heard something, because he ran into the room. Eduard greeted him by slicing open his chest and then slitting his throat. The next guard came in sword drawn, and took a swing at Eduard. He must have never seen Jon coming, because Jon sliced the guards sword arm almost clean off, before stabbing him in the chest repeatedly.

The next two guards came in the next room, swords drawn. They weren't about to fall for the same traps that their comrades did.

"Snap and stab?"

"Great idea."

"Go."

When Eduard said go, Jon used magic to create a small sound over in the corner of the room along with a bit of smoke. The sound distracted one of the guards, who was punished by Eduard's sword. The next guard attempted to take advantage of Eduard's sword being stuck in his friend, but Jon threw his dagger and hit the guard in the thigh. Eduard tackled the guard to the ground and finished him off.

"Alright. Watch my back."

"I've been doing that for years."

"Very true," Eduard said as he advanced towards the final room in the building.

Alright Baro. Let's see how you fight me when I'm not tied up.

Eduard opened the door and saw Baro for the first time in years. He didn't look too good. At least not in his face. Physically, he was in great shape.

"Eduard, I take it you've figured out that I figured out that you were spying on me?"

"That wasn't me, you paranoid fool. That was your own man. He jumped ship because you are crazy."

"NO. It was all YOU! I know it was! Ever since you escaped, you've ruined my life! You killed my family! You stole my gold! You try to kill me in my dreams! You'll die for what you've done!"

Eduard didn't even have time to explain that he didn't know Baro had family left before he saw a sword coming towards his face. He barely got his scimitar up to block the blow. The force of the blow almost knocked Eduard off his feet, and there was another swing on the way. This time Eduard dove to the left, and then quickly scrambled to his feet. He was no longer off guard now.

When Baro came in for another sword strike, Eduard spun around it and landed a strike on Baro's leg. However, even though his leg showed that he was hit, Baro didn't seemed fazed by the blow.

You can't be serious. He's that far gone?

Eduard didn't have much time to think about how insane Baro actually was. He had to dodge another sword strike. He did so by rolling underneath the blow. He popped up to see another swing headed in his direction.

You son of a....

Eduard dodged this one much easier and was able to land another successful counter strike, this time hitting Baro in his back. This time the insane man showed signs of pain.

Now you know how it feels.

Baro was on the ropes now and Eduard knew it. Each swing Baro attempted was less and less difficult to dodge. Eduard decided that it wouldn't be worth it to torture Baro the same way that Baro had done to him.

That would make me no better.

Instead he dodged one of Baro's weak sword strikes, and then disarmed him easily.

"Baro, you must die for all you have done to me. Besides, it is obvious that you're paranoia has turned you against me for whatever reason. It's better this way, if you ask me."

"Well, no asked you, dream snatcher!"

Eduard responded to the weird response by slicing Baro's head off. It was a lot less satisfying than Eduard had hoped it would be.

He was so... out of it. I don't believe I could have gotten him to understand why he had to die. It doesn't matter though, he needed to die.

"Alright Jon, let's get out of here."

Jon and Eduard slipped out the window that they entered through, and then quickly took the escape route that Eduard had picked out.

"Operation Whiplash successful. Great job."

"You too Jon. It was great to finally work together again."

"So... Baro..."

"Out of his mind. He was convinced I was plotting to kill him in his dreams. I wasn't able to be mad at him, because I was too busy pitying him."

"I understand. At least we know one thing now."

"And what is that Jon?"

"Livia is safe from him."

Those words gave Eduard peace. It had been a while since Livia had been legitimately safe.

"I can't wait to get back to the cabin. I'm about done sleeping outside."

"We'll be back there soon enough Eduard."

"That we will. Good night Jon."

"Good night Eduard."

It's always nice when your writing gets reinforced by the canon after you come up with it.

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Carlotta
Whiterun
Late at night

 

"And I am willing to give it up for the chance to be with you... Will you marry me?"

This was the moment. It was the one that Carlotta was reliving every night in her dreams. And when she would wake up to see Boldir laying asleep beside her, it would fill her with joy at the assurance that it was not just a dream. It was real. Tonight, Carlotta dreamt the same, and as she often did, found herself waking up well before morning. This was nothing new. Carlotta had been waking up in the latest hours of the night ever since she was a young girl. It didn't happen every night, but it was common. She lifted her head to flip the pillow and found that it wasn't her pillow, or even her side of the bed that she laid on. She had rolled over onto Boldir's. He was nowhere to be found.

Carlotta was tired, and she badly wanted to just go back to sleep, but not without first checking to see what was keeping her husband-to-be. Drearily, she tossed aside the covers and climbed out of bed, careful to not make too much sound, lest she awaken Mila in her room below. She slowly pushed open the door to her room and passed into the darkened loft area that leads to the stairs. From the end of the loft, Carlotta could see a dim light coming from downstairs through the kitchen door. Why would he have a candle lit this late? she wondered. Carlotta tip-toed down the stairs as quietly as she could. When she rounded the corner into the kitchen, Carlotta was greeted by the sight of her favorite Nord sitting at the square table beside the wall, his back was to her, but Carlotta could tell that he was looking down at something on the table under a candle. She couldn't tell what it was behind Boldir's large frame. Carlotta smiled with some pride. Snuck up on the great Boldir Iron-Brow after only a week of living together. Can't let him forget this one any time soon.

"You made a lot of noise coming down those stairs." Said Boldir as he turned around and smiled at her. "I hope you didn't wake Mila."

Her brow crinkled, but she returned the smile. Oh well.

"Yeah, wherever Mila got her sneakiness from, it had nothing to do with me." Carlotta crossed the room and wrapped her arms around Boldir's shoulders, resting her chin on the right one. When she did, she could feel a small shaking in them. It was barely noticeable, lighter than a shiver, but it was there. "What's the matter?"

Boldir turned his head and kissed her on the cheek. "Nothing now."

Carlotta waited for Boldir to go on. When he didn't, she let out a long sigh. She knew that he was not typically a man of many words, and meant nothing by it when he didn't say much. Still, she didn't like that he was keeping something from her. "Boldir, we are together now. You don't have to hide anything from me. What's that under your arms?"

Boldir moved his arms from the table to reveal about a half-dozen silver and black shards of what looked like a big axe-head. "I was just thinking. That's all. About Falkreath."

"That's all huh?" Carlotta asked, doubtful. She hadn't asked Boldir much about the war at the border. Even though he was her fiance, Carlotta found it awkward to ask about it, as he may not want to talk about it. He had returned, and apparently killed a lot of Dominion soldiers, but she didn't know any more details. From the rumors around town, the defensive campaign had been a brutal one. She wasn't even completely sure if his "reminiscing" was a good thing or a bad thing. It was costing Boldir sleep, so she assumed bad. "Is there anything you want to talk about?"

Boldir hesitated before answering. It was as if he was unsure what answer to give. "No... I'll be fine."

"Are you sure? Because I don't think you-"

"Really Carlotta, I'm fine. I can't be in a bad mood when I'm with you."

The large Nord stood up and put his hands on her shoulders. It always surprised her how gentle he could be with her, despite his size. He leaned down to plant another kiss on Carlotta's forehead, he rested his head against hers. "Let's get back to bed."

Carlotta nodded, but stood there for a minute, letting him head on up. "I'll catch up with you Love, Just let me check on Mila first." Carlotta headed over to Mila's room and slowly opened the door, which she noticed was already slightly ajar. The room was dark, so she headed over to Mila's bedside and waited, hands on her hips. After several moments, the child's eyes opened, just as Carlotta knew they would. "You shouldn't be eavesdropping sweetie." Said Carlotta softly. "You should be sleeping."

When Mila spoke, it was in a very quiet and tired voice. "Who was Boldir talking to momma?"

Huh, maybe she wasn't eavesdropping after all.

"He was talking to me of course."

"No." Mila said. "Before that. It was just before you came down the stairs."

Carlotta gave a confused look. "Sweetie I was just talking to your father. He and I were all that were in there. And nobody left, I'd have heard the door creak if they had."

"Well he was talking to someone. I think. I didn't actually hear the other person, just him."

Carlotta gave Mila a kiss on the cheek. "You were just dreaming. You don't have to be asleep to dream you know."

The little girl nodded. "Yeah, I guess that could've been it." She yawned.

"You hear that? You need your sleep. Goodnight little Fox. And no more eavesdropping. Okay?"

"Okay Momma. Goodnight! Tell Boldir I said so too."

Carlotta closed the door as she headed out, making sure it was shut good this time. She made her way up to her room. It was dark, and she couldn't see, but from the sound of his heavy tired breathing, she could tell Boldir was already in bed. Carlotta made her way to the bedside and climbed into the covers. "Mila says good night," she whispered to Boldir.

"She was awake?"

"Yes. She'd been dreaming. Said something about hearing you talking to someone."

Boldir didn't answer for a few seconds. Which worried Carlotta a bit. "If someone else had been in there, you'd have heard that cursed door creaking when they left."

"Heh, that's actually what I told her."

They laid in silence for several minutes. Carlotta could tell from his quick breathing that Boldir wasn't asleep. She herself was growing drowsy, but she was determined to stay awake to know that her love had really fallen asleep. Five minutes passed before Boldir spoke again.

"Carlotta?"

"Yes Boldir?"

"What Mila heard... It wasn't a dream. I was talking."

If Boldir could see her in this light, he'd have been treated to an almost comical look of confusion that came across Carlotta's face. "What? Who were you talking to then?"

Boldir rolled over onto his side, facing her. She couldn't see his face, just his shape, but Boldir seemed tensed up, and very hesitant. Whatever he was about to say, it was not something he'd tell lightly. "I... what you said down there, in the kitchen, it was true. I should not keep secrets from you of all people. Some things happened while I was in Falkreath Carlotta. Things that I'm not proud of."

She was unsure what this had to do with Boldir talking to someone, but Carlotta knew he'd get to it. Still, it sounded like he was encroaching on a topic he found sensitive. "Boldir. If you don't want to talk about this I understand. Just know that I'm here for you."

"No, you need to know. You need to hear it from me now instead of by accident later."

Carlotta wasn't sure what he meant by this, but she just nodded and remained silent, letting him say what he needed to say. Before he continued, Boldir got up and left the room, returning with a lit candle. He sat it by the bed on his nightstand and sat down on the bed, leaning on the back. Carlotta followed suit and sat up. He must have a lot to say.

"When I left Whiterun, I was a wreck, but I managed to distract myself. I turned my mind away from you by focusing on nothing but making preparations for the invasion. This went on for months. I grew distant from others, even my best friend, who I didn't really even try to contact over this time. When the invasion finally happened, and the Imperials brought their army into Skyrim, it was even easier. I managed to keep myself preoccupied with the war for a while, my only slip ups were the occasional quiet moment alone, and once when Rebec got me thinking about it. Other than that, you and Whiterun only came to me in my dreams. That is, until just before the siege of Falkreath."

Carlotta listened intently. She felt an immense guilt at having brought such strife into his life, enough so that he'd had to totally block her out of it. But she was not going to interrupt him. That he was talking so much was a testament to how important this must've been to him, because Boldir never had this much to say.

"You know that Baldur is my brother, well just days before the siege, my brother was captured by the Thalmor while out of camp. I wasn't there at the time to stop or go with him, so when I read the letter saying that he was gone, I returned to the camp prepared to go after him. To this day, I don't know how Rebec managed to talk me down, but she did. The guilt of knowing that my brother was being tortured while I did nothing constantly weighed down on me. That was when I began arguing with myself. I was conflicted. Do you know what it's like to lose absolutely everything that you care for, while blaming it all on yourself? Because that is what happened. I'd lost you, and done nothing about it. And then the same happened with Baldur."

Carlotta's hands were covering her mouth. This was the first she'd heard of Baldur's capture, as well as the first time he'd truly admitted just how much he'd been hurt by her. Boldir comparing the two made her feel a little sick to her stomach.

"But, like with you, I managed to push him from my head, and by the next day I was seemingly over it. I kept myself occupied with making sure we were ready for the upcoming siege. It was several days before Baldur would manage to escape. I didn't get a second of sleep while he was gone. I'd been afraid to stop working, lest my mind drift to the loss. When He came back, of course I was happy, but I felt no less guilty, and now I couldn't focus on keeping my mind elsewhere. That's when I first heard his voice. Baldur's. I heard him speaking to me, plain as day, but when I responded, he looked at me with a similar face to the one you're giving me right now. You see, he hadn't really said anything at all. I'd heard it in my head. That's the first time I recall hearing a voice. It wouldn't be the last time."

"So that's who you were talking to in the kitchen?" Asked Carlotta, with a shocked voice. "You were responding to Baldur's voice in your head?"

"No." Said Boldir. "It was Javin."

"Who's Javin?" She asked, momentarily forgetting her shock at her fiance's apparent insanity at the mention of an unfamiliar name.

"He's a man I knew long ago, he's been dead for many years."

"So you hear many voices?" Said Carlotta, going back to the subject of his mind. "Even the dead?"

"Yes. But only one is consistent."

"Who's is that?"

"Here's a hint, I haven't heard from her since I proposed to you."

"Me? You've been hearing my voice?"

"More than any other. You know why Carlotta? You are the only person in my life who isn't related to war. Well, you and Mila. You- err... your voice acted as much like a conscience as it did company. That's what the voices had become to me see, I got used to them and they were more like company. It sounds crazy, but I have actually gotten used to them. But yours was different. It was always the one to step in when I was crossing my own lines."

"But you crossed them anyway. Didn't you?"

Boldir didn't answer at first, he looked up at the ceiling for several moments before finally responding. "Yes. I'll spare you the details, but like I said, I did things that I'm not proud of."

Carlotta understood, or at least she tried to. "Boldir, you did what you had to do. I get that you are bothered by what has happened, but you can't dwell on it. It is past now, and the future for us is far brighter."

Boldir nodded. He looked relieved. "So, you are not afraid that I'm crazy?"

Carlotta chuckled. It didn't sound like this was so much a problem as a way of coping, and everyone has their ways of doing that. Especially soldiers. "After what you've told me, I'd be more afraid if you weren't."

"I'll admit, the voices have toned down a lot since I returned. This was only the second time, and I think it was in part because I was dreaming about the w-."

"Don't worry Boldir," She cut in. "You don't have to try to justify them to me. I love you. And if your little head choir is a part of you, then I guess I have no choice but to love them too."

They both laughed. Boldir was clearly relieved, and deep down so was Carlotta. She'd always feared how much the war had impacted Boldir. Now that she knew, she felt that an obstacle between them was cleared. "Come here you gigantic insane Nord." Carlotta wrapped her arms around Boldir and kissed him long and passionately, and he returned it the same way. When they finally came apart, and she looked at him giving her that stupid grin of his, she looked at the man that she knew for sure was the one she wanted to spend the rest of her days with.

Boldir blew out the candle. "Now with that behind us, let's get some sleep." He yawned tiredly as he turned over on his side. It seemed as though the drowsiness had finally set in for him. "I need to be well rested when I go to see the Jarl tomorrow."

Carlotta's eyes widened. She had completely forgotten that he was reporting to Vignar tomorrow at noon to discuss the position of Commander of the guard in Whiterun. "You're right!" She said. "Well... You know, you've got all day tomorrow to go see him. Tonight though..." She grinned coyly. "I'm not even tired anymore. Is there anything you think you'd rather do than sleep?"

She received a loud snore in response. Figures. Still, Carlotta felt content as she closed her eyes. She now had a husband. One who had just proven to be honest to her. Not only that, but he truly cared for her and Mila, so much that fighting a war couldn't put them out of his mind. Now, with him getting a job in Whiterun, dangerous as it may be, he would not be under the threat of going off far away to die. He would stay here, with them. She now had a man with whom she could watch Mila, and maybe more children, grow up with. Everything felt perfect, and Carlotta was sure that their future was going to be a good one.

It's always nice when your writing gets reinforced by the canon after you come up with it.

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Baldur and Rebec
Bannered Mare Room
12 a.m. some time after the night of the Fathers


Baldur couldn't rest that night. He had fallen so far behind from his reports and his journal, so he decided it was high time he get back to it. So far he had finally caught up to where they were currently, which was the end of the battle, but he still had to write current events. Rebec was quietly sleeping away looking so serene and peaceful. Baldur found it much easier to write when he could look at her while he did. Smiling as he continued on, Baldur went to dip his feather back into the pot of ink and he accidentally knocked over his now empty tankard, which made a loud pang clang sound which sounded much louder thn it normally would on the wooden floor in the dead of night.

"Crap. Did I disturb you, Rebec?"

"Huhwhat?!"  Rebec was startled out of a strange dream.  At first she thought she was sailing, but there was no ship beneath her, and soon she realized she was flying.  As she went higher and higher, she could see the lands beyond Skyrim, and the oceans as well.  There was a great naval battle going on, a clash of mighty ships.  Without a ship, she couldn't do anything about it.

It was a relief to be pulled out of that.  Sitting up and rubbing her eyes, she said, "Still working on your reports?  When are you coming back to bed?"

After Baldur applied some more ink to his feather, Baldur continued writing while answering her question.

"Almost done. So far I have the parts about the war ending, the agreement with the Imperials and their movement to the Pass. I've also put in the reports from Cyrodiil that say the Princess is soon to be the Empress and that the Imperials have beat feet back to Cyrodiil. Right now I'm just finishing up Brund's reports of Pale Pass. He's begun the reinforcement process of Pale Pass immediately, building walls and defenses so that no one will be getting in from that direction without a very long and bloody dragged out fight. I already sent him word that I recommended him as a General to Ulfric. Ulfric already accepted and he'll be watching over the troops while we're busy doing whatever it is we decide to do after we get back from Solitude. There, all done. By the way, I have a surprise for you in the morning just before we leave. Boldir's been working on the finishing touches, and I have to add one last thing to it before you can have it. A late wedding gift."

Baldur finally set aside his stack of papers and not so personal journal, since he allows Rebec to see it, and moved in under the sheets next to her.

"A gift?"  Rebec's tone was guilty.  She hadn't even thought about a wedding gift, and had no idea what she could give him.  He already had finer armor and weapons than she could afford.

Changing the subject, she said, "Suri should be along by tomorrow.  She stayed behind to accompany the caravan bringing the redguard dead for transport back to Hammerfell.  Did you know that when they came here, each of them signed a contract specifying how their remains were to be handled?  Some requested burial back home.  Jodun said to bury his in Skyrim.  Suri thought he knew that he was never going to go home again."

There was a heavy silence, and Rebec thought it best to change the subject again.  "The naval war is all over except releasing our prisoners, so Vilnur is going to take Suri and do some sightseeing in Skyrim.  She wants to see the Throat of the World, Windhelm, and the site of the collapse at Winterhold.  Girl's got a morbid streak."

Jodun...so you did have a death wish after all...

"Those are all great locations to see but what about the others? Solitude while not really my style I have to admit is at least a beautiful place to see. Especially the odd rock formation it stands on. That always made me nervous to see honestly. Looks like it can slip off at any moment. Then there's Mar-."

Baldur stopped himself from going on. Markarth wasn't exactly a place of happiness for him due to his mother and he'd rather not think on it further.

"Markets. The markets in Solitude I mean. Good assortment of goods."

"She came in via Solitude.  I'm not sure if they'll leave from there or if Vilnur will send his ship on to meet them at Windhelm.  He'll be wanting to return to his wife soon.  We might catch up to them in Dawnstar, though, if they go by to see Papa.  You wanted to meet my father, right?"

"Yes I'd love to meet your father. He sounds like quite a character. He'd have to be to have brought you into the world."

Laughing, Rebec answered, "He is that.  He kicked Toki's ass so badly, when he wouldn't leave me alone.  I was only sixteen, though, and Toki was older.  I don't think Papa will do the same to you."  There was a pause, and it was likely she wasn't sure about that.

"What about... your mother?"

Baldur's smile from the mention of her protective father faded when Rebec brought up his ma. He knew the topic would come up sooner or later, but he had hoped it would be later.

"My mother? I...I haven't seen her since I was three. I barely remember her face. I tried visiting her once, but..."

Baldur cut off again. He took a deep long breath before he continued.

"I was in a bad place those years I decided to try seeing her. First time was three years ago and I ended up spending the majority of my time drunk in the Silver-Blood Inn. The second time was after I killed Ulrin. That's my pa. I was just afraid of what I would see. Up in her...Dibella Chapel. Afraid of what I would say or what she would say. Maybe it is time I faced her. Looks like our trip to Markarth won't be the high note of our vacation."

Baldur was of course referring to Toki who they had to bury.

"Somehow I just can't see your mother as a Dibella priestess.  Or maybe I can.  You're friendlier to people than your tough general routine gives off.  I guess I figured that out, back in Neugrad, or I wouldn't have kipped in to your bed."  She smiled across the small space between them.  "You haven't seen her since you were that small?  I think it's time, Baldur.  Even if it's only to satisfy yourself that she's not worth the trouble.  Since we'll be in the Reach anyway.  You still want to go with me to look for Toki's body?  I'd never have asked that of you."

Baldur had to shut his eyes to keep from tearing up. Besides Rebec, the only other thing short of Thalmor torture that could make him shed tears was the thought of his mother. He both missed her and hated her at the same time. And he hated himself for missing someone who chose the life of debauchery over her own son. He was thankful Rebec changed the subject at the end.

"I'm your husband, Rebec. Anything you do, I do with you. Your burdens are my burdens to share. Remember what you said to me about taking burdens all on myself before that meeting with the Imperials? That goes both ways."

"I suppose.  This one seems odd to lay on a husband, though- looking for the man I was married to before.  Alright, then.  We'll go to the Reach together, and find your ma and hopefully Toki's bones, if Samuel's information was right.  I've been thinking.  Samuel said he was last seen at Dushnikh Yal.  That's an orc stronghold, and they wouldn't like Nords snooping around.  My first mate is an orc.  She'll agree to go with us, I'm sure.  Maybe she can talk to them for me."

Rebec glanced over at the desk, at her own pile of reports and letters.  After the long siege, she was drowning in them.  "There's someone else we might take along, but I'm less sure about him.  Someone I captured off one of the imperial ships.  He's a Nord from Anvil, and I put in a word for him at the prison.  Now he's asking to stay in Skyrim long enough to see his family.  They're in the Reach, too.  Would you mind if he came along?  I don't think he's got it out for me even though I sunk his ship.  Since I vouched for him, I feel responsible."

"Heh, after what I put you through with Marius, I'd be a hypocrite to say anything otherwise. If you're sure he'll behave then I'm up for it. I'm excited to meet a member of your crew too. Although, won't it be a little weird if we want to...you know. On our travels?"

"We'll take a bedroll behind the bushes.  If you're shy, love, better be prepared to live like a monk on my ship.  According to the plans I drew up, I'll have private quarters on the new ship, too.  But they're small and the rowers bunk right outside the door. Let's just say, it'll be cozy."

Baldur wasn't as shy as much as he was considerate. He could only imagine what it would be like being trapped on a ship with mostly men only to hear someone a few feet away not exactly suffering like you were. But Baldur figured that wasn't his problem. They are married after all.

"I'm sure I'll get used to it, hehehe. We're married now. There's no way I'm letting that get in the way of our romps. Speaking of our marriage, hows Runil been? Any word from him at all?"

"He was in good spirits, better than I saw him the whole time we were there.  I think helping us in that last battle was a help for himself, to come to terms with his past.  He was back to doing the rites for our dead and preserving the redguard bodies for the trip home.  I think... this may sound odd, but I'm going to miss him, more than anyone else in Falkreath.  Who'd have thought that, right?"

"I can understand it. He's a sweet old man from what I can tell. Didn't get much time to talk to him really. Can't believe he used to be a Thalmor. Kind of puts things into perspective. Wonder what Ulfric's gonna say. He should be showering us all in gold from everything we accomplished. Especially with taking the Pass. That was the icing on the cake. But he may still be a little worried about us. Because of what almost happened. You may find it hard to believe but he does care about us you know. You included. But we don't actually have to tell him everything. I could just say I was tricked by a contact I was using to find info on the enemy and he ended up betraying me. Which is pretty close to the truth. He'd never have to know more than that."

"Ulfric probably hasn't got much gold to shower on anyone."  Rebec hesitated, looking up at the ceiling.  "I hate all the lies, Baldur.  I want to be done with that.  Let's tell him what happened.  He should know about Moon Balls, at least as much as we know.  If he demotes me, so be it.  I was never really fit to be an admiral, you know.  Sure I can sail and I can plan strategies, but all the saluting and yessir'ing isn't me.  Whether Ulfric cares about us or not, I don't mind one way or the other.  He's been fair with me, that's more than I can say for others."

"Hmm, true. I forgot most of our coin is going to the military. Hammerfell trade helped, but now that Cyrodiil is no longer a threat, trade can go back to the way it was. Maybe you're right about just telling him the truth. I don't think after all that happened here with Marius and the alliance though that you'll be demoted. I was the one that took the risk with Marius and decided to take another risk with Samuel on my own. At most he may lecture me on letting my emotions get the better of me. He didn't exactly forbid me from you anyway when I brought you up before."

"You think he'll be surprised at our marriage?  He did tell me to take care of you.  Not sure he had this in mind."  She chuckled, and turned to lay an arm across Baldur's chest.  "He'll be suspicious about the imperials' sudden change of heart, but we all are, until we start to hear good news from the south.  Still, for now Skyrim is safe and it seems the imperials are finally ready to recognize Skyrim's independence.  You won that for him.  I couldn't have negotiated it, as you'll recall from the truce meeting."

"Ah, the truce meeting. That should be a fun tale to tell when we get there. I do so love seeing you fight. You have one mean right hook, poor Gracchus." Baldur laid his hand over Rebec's as it lay on his chest as he laughed. "As for being surprised, I doubt it. When he questioned me about you, I admitted that I had feelings for you and that I would suppress them for the mission. Yea, whoops. Anyway, after I said that, his exact words were,

'Well, the Legionnaire in me agrees with you and says not to pursue it. But the Nord in me says our ancestors fought side by side with their loved ones. Shield husband and shield wife in the thick of battle. And last time I checked, I'm no legionnaire and this ain't Cyrodiil.'

"-So no, I don't think he'll be surprised. I never even said that I loved you, just that I had feelings, so the husband wife thing came to me as a surprise. I kind of feel bad for him. Forced to marry that st- eh nevermind. Forced to marry for political reasons. It made sense and it did help a lot to appease the common folk, but still. He must be miserable. Maybe that's why he said what he said. Didn't want to see me unhappy because of the job like he was."

"He said that?  Good for him.  It's true.  Sometime I'll tell you about Rebec the Red, the boat thane I'm named for.  She had a list of husbands as long as here to High Rock, and I wouldn't have wanted to meet her in a fight, by land or by sea.  She probably had so many because if one died in battle, she'd never have a cold bedroll.  That's our ancestors for you.  Practical."

Rebec played at the hair on his chest, thinking about having to face the realities of her first marriage.  Things were so good with Baldur, she was afraid anything might come along to mess it up.  He was doing something risky by seeking out his mother, though, so she told herself it was high time, and not to worry.  "The engineers have been busy with the war, so with me gone, they haven't been working on my ship yet.  It's a good thing, give me time to look over the plans once more and make sure they get it right.  After that's done, we should plan on that trip to Hammerfell.  It won't all be fun and games, though.  There are reports of trouble over this alliance between Skyrim and them.  Crowns up in arms about it, I guess."

"...Oh that's just great. First Captain, then General. Now I'll be playing Diplomat. Well, at least you'll be there to keep things interesting with those punches of yours. Hammerfell. I mentioned that earlier because Suri's tales of the place had me entranced. Well at least Ulfric can't say I didn't get any work done. As for miss Rebec the Red, yea I know the tale. Her and her "pity" husbands. What a woman she was. Your father named you rightly that's for sure. Don't get any ideas, missy. There's only room for one pity husband in this bed." Baldur put his hand to Rebec's belly to tickle her.

She fended off his tickling with a laugh.  "I married you out of pity, that's true.  Couldn't have the men seeing you wander around spouting lovesick poetry.  Now get some sleep, General Diplomat sir.  And no wandering hands.  It's a long trip to Solitude."

It's always nice when your writing gets reinforced by the canon after you come up with it.

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