The horse below me is panting and keeps trying to stop, but I continue to push her. I need to get to Whiterun as quickly as I can. My grandmother only needs to give my friend one more potion before the effects become 'permanent'. Maven won't suspect a thing, she'll just assume she has the Khajiit wrapped around her finger. What she doesn't know is that Wylandriah is weak and easily gave her up. The wizard kept telling me how dangerous the potion was, but promptly shut up when I threatened her. I don't care if my friend is 'happy' with Maven. My grandmother would eventually push her to the side like she does all her other lovers, but my friend wouldn't get over her. She'd remain in love with Maven until the day she died, she would never act like herself, and my grandmother wouldn't give a shit that she just ruined someone's life. I need to stop her, and I know how. I made the wizard swear to never tell anyone, but I took precaution and paid her off. She's a weak woman, but gold can strengthen even the most pathetic cowards. My horse groans as I kick her again, but I can see the city rising up in front of me. When I arrive at the stables I dismount, allow the horse to graze, and begin walking up to the city. I can't help noticing the remains of The Battle of Whiterun. I still don't understand why they haven't cleaned up.
Corpses litter the roadside (they were covered in snow during the winter, so they're truly disgusting), broken planks and cracked stones litter my path, gigantic craters occasionally force me to abandon the traditional walkway, and discarded weapons are everywhere I look. The citizens and guards have had weeks to clean this mess up, but it still remains. I'm certain this will be the first thing Maven attends to. I find out I'm wrong when I get into the city. A celebrating citizen prances by me, a smiling fox mask obscuring her face. She shoves a mask in my hand as she struts past, someone wearing the mask of a snarling ferret hands me a mug of ale, and a smirking bear informs me about what's going on throughout the city. I inwardly sigh at what Maven's doing. She's throwing a feast at Dragonsreach, a tournament outside the city, and a celebration all over town. Free alcohol, sweets, and mask are being handed out to everyone. I look down at the mask in my hand. A gleeful unicorn gazes back at me. I suppose it wouldn't hurt to let Maven think I'm simply another party goer. I put the mask on and begin traveling through the city, avoiding the celebrating citizens. I'm not sure where in oblivion the guards are, but they sure aren't doing their job. A smiling pig is happily dancing, unaware that his leg is obviously broken. A shocked dog is standing on top of the local inn, taking a piss and aiming for anyone that walks by. Not to mention the two men who've abandoned their masks and are busy fucking in the middle of the street.
I roll my eyes at how uncouth the people of Whiterun are acting. This entire celebration is disgusting, but Maven has made a smart move. And, it's suppose to be representative. Every citizen and guard is required to wear a mask. The guards wear wolf mask, to symbolize how they work together, catch anyone who threatens the group, and how each individual is just one part of a larger thing. The citizens wear the mask of any animal excluding a stag (reserved for Maven), a doe (reserved for the spouse of the Jarl, so that one can actually be worn since Maven is single), squirrels (the Thanes), bulls (the royal guard), flamingos (the court wizard), and wolverines (the staff of Dragonsreach). My unicorn mask is a rarity. Only three magical creatures mask can be passed out. One dragon, one unicorn, and one manticore. Every mask represents something. The stag is the king of creatures, the doe is the mate, the squirrels chatter after the deer without thought, the bulls are thick headed fighters, the flamingos are pretty but nearly useless, and the wolverines do the same thing day after day. The citizen's masks are all creatures that are common in the wild, but are important to the forest. The three mythical creatures represented something, but their meaning was lost around the second era. Most of the masks aren't that important, the stag is the only one that carries any real meaning (the rest of the masks were thought about roughly around the third era).
Some ancient Jarl thought that the stag was the king of all beast. In his words, 'The clawed animals must eat him for substance, his fellows must look to him for guidance, and those below him don't dare cross his path.'. Over the last hundreds of years people have debated what he meant. Some people think he meant herbivores and carnivores, others think he literally meant clawed and hoofed animals, and some people just think he's crazy. If the first group is right, then he meant wolves and such eat stags while foxes and such avoided him. If the second group is right, then he literally meant any clawed animal (including foxes and dogs) eat stags while hoofed animals (horses and does) avoid him. Both groups agree he meant does when he said 'his fellows'. If the final group is right, then none of it matters. I personally like the first idea. My inner monologue is cut off by a horse bumping into me, apologizing, and continuing on his way. I throw the ale in my hand at him, then quickly walk away. I'm near Dragonsreach, the wolves standing guard. The celebrating in the city is getting out of hand, but they don't do anything. It seems Maven wants the party to go on uninterrupted. A wise move. The citizens of Whiterun are having fun, they won't get hurt by the guards, and they'll remember this celebration with fondness. And, if they like the celebration they might warm up to Maven faster.
A silver wolf opens the door for me, and as I walk through he tells me, "Enjoy the feast, regards from Maven Black-Briar.". The hall is crowded, every person wearing a mask. I look around and see the damage from last winter. Burns on the rafters, stains on the walls, and some areas of the hall are newer than the others. I turn my attention away from the damage and look at the celebration. Every mask is bronze, silver, or gold. The plain wooden ones are left outside, these are masks are fit for thanes and royalty. Thankfully my unicorn mask is naturally silver, so I won't stick out. I keep looking around, the celebration out of hand. The people of Whiterun have a good reason to be excited. The last time this festival was done it was right before The Oblivion Crisis. This party can only be done when a Jarl and his heirs pass away, not just because a new Jarl takes over. The party is a celebration of the old Jarl's life and the new Jarl's command. I quickly scan the benches, famished animals scarfing down their food. I easily spot who I'm looking for. A golden stag with gigantic horns is obviously Maven, but I have a good hunch who the dragon beside her is. My grandmother must have thought it hilarious to put the 'dragonborn' in a dragon mask, but she would have reconsidered if she knew how much this helped my plan.
I weave my way through the drinking, dancing, grinding people in animal mask. I manage to get behind Maven, but she isn't who I want. I reach out to tap the dragon on the shoulder, but stop when I notice something. No tail. My friend always sticks her tail in between the bars on her chair, but this person lacks the orange appendage. Damn it, Maven must have put my friend in a different mask. Suddenly, Maven stands up and nearly knocks her chair into my knees. I jump back as the Jarl slowly walks around the hall, stopping and getting someone's attention. I carefully watch the person turn, and inwardly curse my grandmother when I see what the person is wearing. The doe mask. The traditional symbol of a spouse. But then I notice the tail on the doe, and I realize Maven is using it to symbolize her lover. A dangerous move, but it'll pay off if she does it right. Dangerous because all of Whiterun could find out my grandmother is fucking a Khajiit young enough to be her granddaughter. But it'll pay off if the city is too busy partying to notice it, if the Khajiit never takes off her mask, or Maven clarifies the Khajiit is simply a friend. From the looks of it the first and second ones are true, and that means the Khajiit is falling in love even faster due to the romantic gesture. I curse as the two begin to dance, the noses of their masks slightly touching in a mock kiss.
I need to get my friend alone, but how? I curse and simply wait, and eventually Maven is forced to dance with a flamingo. My friend slowly walks over to where some wolverines are handing out drinks. I move as quick as I can, ignoring any compliments about my unicorn mask. However, I do stop for a short second when my horn nearly takes out someone's eye. Then, I'm right beside the doe. I know it's my friend, so I reach out and tap her shoulder. She turns to me and warily says, "Hello.". I roll my eyes underneath my mask and tell her, "It's me.". She recognizes my voice and quickly tells me, "I'm so glad you made it! Your grandmother said you weren't coming, but I knew that wasn't true. So, what do you think of the festival?". I ignore her question and offer her my hand. She knows it means I want to dance, but she motions at the people handing out ale and tells me, "I wanted to get a drink.". Checkmate. I pull the violet potion from my pocket and tell her, "I already got you one.". She takes the vile, examines it, and tells me, "This doesn't look like any drink I've ever seen.". I easily lie, "It's Black-Briar Reserve. Very expensive.". She looks at the potion, shrugs, and pops the top. I'm terrified Maven, her spys, or a random stranger will stop her, but nobody does. And, the potion is quickly gone.
She swallows one last time, hands me the vile, and tells me, "That's an odd drink, but I like it.". Good, she'll need to take it two more times. The effects haven't started working, but by tomorrow she'll be thinking about me when Maven fucks her. I offer her my hand, and when she takes it I lead her out onto the dance floor. I smile underneath my mask as we slowly dance, the bards playing a nice slow song. My friend rests her mask against my shoulder. I quickly examine the doe face. It has holes for the wearer's eyes, mouth, and nose. Suddenly, my friend tells me, "I don't feel good.". I pat her back and tell her, "It's nothing.". She pulls away from me, grasping her stomach. I hear her swallow one again and the woman tells me, "No, I really don't feel g-". She can't finish the rest of her sentence, hot blood spewing from her mask's mouth stops her. Everyone stops and backs away as my friend falls to her hands and knees, still vomiting blood. I step away from the puddle of liquid, the blood turning black in the torchlight. My friend falls to her side, twitching wildly. Maven is at her side in an instant, ripping off her golden stag mask and demanding help. What have I done? What have I done?!