Chapter 1: Pride and Prejudice

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Ryathen

There is nothing the Altmer value more than pride and purity.

Pride of culture, magic, sophistication.

And purity of blood.

Marriage is little more than a formality among the Mer of the Summerset Isles; a pretty euphemism for what it really is –selective breeding; striving to remain as faithful as they can to the physique of their parent race, the Aldmer.

What most denizens of Tamriel don't know is that there exist certain castes within Altmeri society, families whose lineages could be traced from their Aldmer ancestors, and whose current heads haven't deviated from their physiology by the slightest margin.

Purebloods, one might call them.

And apart from members of the royal family, the Pureblood lines are held in the highest esteem; the reason they don't rule is because they deem the semantics of court entirely too troublesome, preferring a more… active role in the preservation and expansion of their empire. They even have a group for them; you've probably heard of it.

The Thalmor.

Isandith

I woke up this morning with a voracious appetite, swearing to myself that I would eat a whole horker in one sitting if the servants would let me. But now I barely had enough strength to sit upright in my chair. Breakfast, a measly egg with sautéed snowberries, sat on my plate untouched.

"Can you believe it?"

"No."

I didn't want to.

My mother giggled riotously in her seat. I've always been wary when she showed any kind of expression beyond her trademark concentration. Overly enthusiastic gestures were seen as very crude by Altmeri standards. Such things were best reserved for those behind closed doors, or preferably never.

"A proposal," she gushed, largely to herself since I was straining to direct my attention elsewhere. "At your age it's quite an honor!"

"Yes, Mother."

"Although," she chuckled. "I must say he has excellent taste. You're exquisite even among our kind. Red hair. Blue eyes. You'd be hard pressed to find either over several generations, and yet here you are with both. My beautiful Isandith."

"Are the berries too bitter, dear?" my father asked. "You're making quite the face."

My lips realigned themselves into a smile. It took considerable effort not to grimace.

"I'm alright, thank you."

He nodded approvingly.

Even if I had touched the berries and even if they were too bitter I couldn't have said so without earning a look of disapproval. This was another unspoken formality of Altmeri culture: one never finds fault in the presence of those whose ranks are higher than one's own, in profession, lineage, or age. And to speak out before one's parents? Entirely taboo.

"Ah, yes." My mother clasped her hands together. Her green eyes practically glowed at the spread on our table until finding their way up to mine. "Your cousin is visiting today. She was just promoted to First Emissary. Be sure to congratulate her. She's here especially for you." Laughter bubbled up once again. "Our Isandith is making a name for herself with all the right people, isn't she?"

My father cleared his throat, dabbing crumbs off his meticulously trimmed beard. Most believed it made him look distinguished. I always thought he looked ridiculous.

"Mind yourself, Draya. You're making yourself look foolish."

It was as if a trap snapped shut. My mother didn't so much as bat an eyelash, returning to her normal stoic state in an instant.

"Yes, husband. Do forgive me."

"All is well." He raised his head to look at me just this once. He shared my mother's lime-green stare, which he now used to trace over my face. It was the most personal interaction we've had in the last several months. "Marriage," he said flatly. "You're so young."

I began to hope for some sort of intervention.

"Be sure not to disgrace him."

"Yes, Father." I know better than to have expectations. "May I excuse myself?"

"You may."

I waited for my handmaiden to pull out my seat, stood, and bowed.

"My thanks."

Keeping with tradition I took three paces backwards before allowing myself to turn heel. My handmaiden, Leyli, took five before following after me, a gesture of the difference in rank. I bid my expression to hold just minutes longer, long enough to set the mask in place.

"Mistress?" Leyli asked. "If your cousin is visiting I should at least put up your hair."

"Yes," I agreed. "But afterwards I need you to fetch Ryathen for me."

"But, Mistress!" she gasped. "That's highly improper."

My mouth opened only to shut again. Improper. She was right.

"You're a good servant, Leyli."

But you're a terrible friend.

Ryathen

"I'm here to escort your ladyship to Mistress Isandith's parlor." I didn't miss the new uniform; black paneled fabric with gold inlay; only there was more gold than usual. "Congratulations on your promotion, Mistress Elenwen."

The woman smiled only slightly. "My," she cooed, "News certainly travels quickly here."

"It does indeed."

She faced me, ashy blonde locks, smoldering eyes and all.

"Since you seem so well informed might you tell me what my dear aunt is hiding? She's determined to keep it a surprise."

I pretended to think about what she could be referring to. The truth is that I knew. I knew since the minute Draya and Tirev arrived at the estate that something was amiss. The two wizards were Thalmor emissaries of Valenwood. They hadn't been in the Summerset Isles for months, and before that, years. Draya was so exuberant she blurted the news the minute her foot came in contact with the ground.

"It's a proposal of marriage."

Elenwen's eyes went wide. "For Isandith! Oh please tell me you know who the man is! Do I know him?"

"Yes, Mistress, I believe you do."

"What does he call himself?"

"Ancano."

The name hit her like a drop of rain between her eyes. Beneath my calm exterior I reveled in her shock. Ancano was her longtime peer, both in magical institutions as well as their current profession. I've long suspected she held feelings for him, but in typical Altmeri fashion, hid them the best she knew how. It was very possible he never even suspected.

"Isandith caught quite a catch." Strained laughter parted past her lips. Her already thin mouth became significantly thinner. "I simply must congratulate her."

"Elenwen!"

No sooner did that willow witch say this did Isandith burst from her room. Obsessively tight braids and exotic flowers seemed forced into a pile on her head. She took her cousin's hands in her own and gazed upon her with overwhelming relief.

"How glad I am to see you!"

"As am I." Isandith stiffened at the indifference in her voice. "A thousand blessings for your upcoming nuptials." Elenwen proceeded to take one hand and bring it to her lips, a formal method of giving an intimate gesture. "May you bear many children as fair as yourself."

I suddenly felt remorse for telling Elenwen the news. I knew she liked Ancano. I also knew how vindictive she could be. Through hurting her I hurt my student. Isandith stood there, utterly blank.

"A-and I congratulate you as well, Elenwen, on your promotion."

"Oh, this." She looked down at herself. "I nearly forgot. One needs only a base understanding of spellcraft and half a brain to-" She held a hand over her mouth. "Oh my, I didn't mean… I know you have trouble with magic. It's not entirely uncommon, you know. Well, though it is rare I daresay. It does sound rather ridiculous, wouldn't you agree? An Altmer that isn't proficient at magic?"

I stood beside the door where custom dictated; prohibited from interfering any further.

Isandith looked as though she was struck. She managed to respond with little more than a flustered smile.

"Yes, Elenwen."

Her cousin helped herself to a seat on the couch. "Oh don't be so demure. I can tell you now Ancano despises women that can't speak up for themselves." She plucked a grape from the fruit bowl, inspecting it as though she expected to find rot. "But he despises women that speak out of place even more."

"I see."

"He hates the over-compliant the most."

Isandith forced a smile.

The corner of Elenwen's mouth twitched downwards.

"Beauty is quite relative, wouldn't you agree, Isandith?"

"Yes. It is."

She picked up another grape from the bowl, this time a shriveled raisin, holding it up to contrast with the grape she obtained earlier.

"Some like them plump. Some thin and dry." Her eyes scanned the woman opposite her on the couch. "The color of your hair is charming I'll admit. Like fire, though I fear it's far too thick for my tastes. Like the fur of a wolf, or a wet dog. But your eyes now, those are terribly lovely. If only they didn't remind one of a Nord. Filthy heretical barbarians that they are."

It took a great deal of restraint to keep from reaching for the hilt of my sword.

"Sad thing about beauty is that, even for us, it fades in time. What was one plump and ripe for the taking…" The grape spurted its juices across the table. "…disappears. Just. Like. That."

"Yes, dear cousin."

Isandith's enduring mannerisms seemed to vex the woman that much more. She stood from her seat and briskly made her way to the door.

"I fear I must get to my quarters. I cannot stay here for very long and my visit still requires I perform my duties. Feel free to… lounge as usual. I wouldn't want to trouble the bride with real work now would I?"

The door clicked shut behind her.

No sooner did it close than a tear trickled out from her eyes.