The High Queen found the training yard empty when she arrived. The Solitude guard had taken to using the more equipped facilities at Castle Dour, Haywir had told her. All the better. Elisif preferred to train alone, away from false praise and prying eyes.
Jaxius had gifted her a sword several months ago, a short elven blade by the name of Repentance. She swung the weapon at the training dummies with practiced strikes, her style sharpened by continued practice and the initial teachings from Bolgeir Bear-Claw. The Dragonborn himself had not been so adept at small blades, preferring greatswords.
One particularly precise thrust left a training dummy spilling oats on to the cobblestones. Elisif couldn't help but imagine Jaxius dying in place of the dummy, bright red blood taking the place of falling cornseed. Emissary Stoker's letter constantly haunted her mind, filling her with dread whenever her thoughts turned to the state of the world. I have to kill him.
"Well-struck, my Queen." The amused voice of Sybille Stentor came from behind her. "Cornfields from here to Riften will come to fear your name."
Elisif smiled despite herself, warmed by her friend's light mockery. Everyone else in court tiptoed around like frightened deer, eager to gain favor and careful not to draw her anger. Only Sybille spoke to her truthfully, as a friend. Maybe the only friend I have left.
"Please, Sybille, you know you can call me Elisif when we're alone." She moved over to a new dummy, resuming her practice. "I tire of that word, Queen. I hear it so much it's beginning to lose meaning."
The court mage took a seat on a nearby stone bench, brushing oats off of her robes. Sybille's eyes were as inscrutable as ever, hidden behind an orange glow.
"The carriages are packed and ready, and the royal guard are prepared to depart." Sybille remarked. "This moot of yours is actually happening, Elisif. We've already received word the other Jarls are on their way to Whiterun."
"That's good to hear." Elisif cut the arms off of the mannequin, twirling Repentance about. "If nothing else, Balgruuf's assassination has brought them together. The man was respected throughout Skyrim." She wiped the sweat from her brow. "I miss him."
"Speaking of which," Sybille said, "I've received disturbing reports from my contacts in Whiterun. Evidently, the upraised Jarl Hrongar's first act was to ban all elves from the city. He claims the safety of Whiterun was compromised by their presence."
Elisif paused mid-strike, disquieted. "We can't afford to isolate each other, now more than ever. The Dominion wants us divided." The morning sun began to peek over the castle walls, casting rays of light over the pair. "I'll have to speak to Hrongar about letting the elves return."
"Good luck." Sybille replied honestly. "I've lived in Tamriel for a long time now. When people are threatened, they return to their old ways. Nords especially. Acceptance and diversity don't often have a place in wartime."
"Hrongar will just have to learn, then." Elisif sheathed Repentance, the elven blade sliding quietly into the leather scabbard. "The old ways died with the Greybeards, and Jax."
Elisif made her way through the city before they left, bidding farewell to her citizens. Viarmo, headmaster of the Bard's College, gave her a tearful hug goodbye. Taarie and Endarie, the Altmer owners of the Raidiant Raiment, gifted her a new dress to wear at the moot. The cloth was soft and pliable, the color of fresh sunflowers intermixed with crimson hues from Morrowind. The ashy scent reminded her of Jax, although of course she didn't tell them that.
"It's beautiful, Taarie." Elisif ran her hand down the dress, goosebumps running across her arms. "I am forever in your gratitude."
Refugees filled the streets as the High Queen made her visits, a sense of fear and hopelessness permeating the air. Elisif talked to as many as she could before she departed, hearing horrific tales of hidden attacks at midnight, golden blades stained with blood, shadowy murder-squads attacking the innocent from seemingly out of nowhere. The recountings were too prevalent and similar to be mere rumors. She would have to make it a point at the moot to increase road patrols across the province.
Finally, the royal entourage assembled at the Solitude gate. Years ago, Ulfric Stormcloak had left through this passage after murdering her husband. Now Elisif was riding through to try to save Skyrim from total destruction. Hopefully her quest would end more successfully.
The foreboding iron doors shuddered open. Elisif, Sybille Stentor, Bolgeir Bear-Claw, and ten soldiers of the royal guard lumbered out of Solitude in two horse-drawn carriages. Her guards encircled the carriages on horseback, ready to defend their Queen from any threat.
Steward Bryling and Chief Guardsman Haywir were left in charge of Solitude in Elisif's absence, to coordinate the incoming refugees and prepare for any Dominion attacks. Elisif prayed the walls of Solitude would still be standing stand when she returned. The city was all she had left now. Without it, the prospect of falling on her sword seemed frighteningly attractive to the weary royal.
"So this is it." Sybille said, sitting beside her in the lead carriage. Bolgeir was in the compartment behind them, planning their route, but Elisif preferred the fresh air. "I haven't left the city for a long time."
"I just hope there's a city to return to after all of this." Elisif replied. "If even one of the Jarls refuses to stand with us against the Dominion, all may be lost."
"Perish the thought." Sybille nudged her on the shoulder. "No matter what, we're getting out of this alive."
A morbid thought crossed Elisif's mind. She might have to ask something very demanding of her friend. "Sybille, if the Dominion should try to capture me..."
The mage seemed to catch her meaning immediately. "I don't know if I can make that promise, Elisif. I've never killed one of my friends in cold blood, not even to save them from the Thalmor."
As if I wouldn't suffer a worse fate from their torturers. But Elisif didn't say that. She didn't want to alienate the only friend she had left. "Let's speak of brighter things," she suggested, as the entourage took the turn into Dragon Bridge.
The sun was touching the horizon when they reached the bridge into Hjaalmarch Hold. Distant figures had appeared on the road ahead and behind them, so Elisif had called the entourage to a halt. Bolgeir climbed out of the carriage and scouted with a small telescope.
"Golden armor," her housecarl confirmed. "Ten coming in from the rear, and twelve from the front." Bolgeir's features remained as stoic as always, but Elisif could sense his anger. "I'm sorry, my lady."
"Don't be." Elisif dropped from the carriage, Sybille quickly following. "We knew this was a likely outcome of our choices." Her hand dropped to the sword at her side. "My choices."
Bolgeir nodded, and began to direct the royal guard in a defensive formation around the carriages. Five horses faced either direction, ready to charge at the approaching Thalmor. Elisif took a deep breath and drew her sword, the air around them growing thick as Sybille summoned magicka.
"Can't say I haven't been looking forward to frying a few Thalmor," she commented, static electricity crackling around her hands. Elisif pushed forward through the guards, watching as the elves marched towards them. She imagined the Greybeards had seen much the same before their end. Bolgeir stood beside her, sword drawn and ready.
The Thalmor halted ten meters ahead, golden armor glistening in the sunlight. A black robed Justiciar broke from their ranks and strode towards them, his shoulders thrust forward in righteous indignation.
"You are Elisif, former High Queen of Solitude, yes?" The Justiciar didn't bother waiting for a reply. "The Dominion has ceased to recognize you as leader of the province following your illegal actions against the Imperial army. You are to be brought to Summerset Isle for questioning."
Elisif did not waste time with niceties. "I'm not going with you. Move your men aside or we will be forced to use violence."
"Move my men?" He huffed. "Did you lose your ability to count with your title, cow? Even riding those snorting beasts, we posses superior numbers and strategy. Our lightning bolts will tear through your lines in short order."
The elf spoke the truth, and Elisif knew it. She also knew her men would die for their ruler without a second thought.
Bolgeir seemed to sense her intention. "Don't do it, my Queen." His stare never left the Justiciar, but his voice pleaded with her. "Better for us to die defending you then watch you be taken."
The Altmer rolled his eyes, seemingly growing bored of their encounter. "If it's death you want, we will be happy to oblige. Men, kill them all. Leave the girl."
Elisif was about to charge forward when a sharp whistling rushed past her ear. A steel arrow had embedded itself in the Justiciar's forehead. The Thalmor charged forward as another force hit them from the side, and then the Queen was lost in a crowd of fighting men. She saw a man dressed in the armor of a wolf, and a red-haired woman shooting arrows point-blank into elven bodies.
A golden sword swung towards Elisif, and she deflected it with Repentance. Her attacker followed up with a thrust that she deflected to the side, and then she was swinging Repentance into his neck, over and over again. Arterial blood splattered her face, burning her eyes and running into the corners of her mouth. The elf collapsed to the ground, choking to death on his own sanguine fluid. Time seemed to slow down as Elisif watched the man die, the man who was dying because of her. She narrowly avoided being impaled by another Thalmor when Sybille intervened with a lightning bolt.
The battle was over in less than a minute. All of the Thalmor lie dead or dying on the ground, their moans of pain slowly becoming less frequent. Elisif could not seem to focus on anything but the dead elf in front of her, who had grown impossibly pale in his demise. This is what it was like to kill someone. This man had lived through who knows how many decades of life, with his own goals and ambitions, only to come here so he could die by her sword.
Bolgeir was suddenly there, shaking her shoulders. "My Queen, are you alright? I was separated from you in the fighting."
Elisif struggled to find her voice. "Yes, I'm quite fine." The words seemed to be coming from someone else, someone who had not just taken a soul from this world forever.
A black-haired man stood beside Bolgeir, wearing the same wolf armor she had seen on a fair few of their saviors. War-paint covered his face, not managing to cover up the scars of many battles.
"High Queen Elisif," the man greeted her respectfully. His voice was dark timber, fierce and brooding. "I am Vilkas, Harbinger of the Companions. The warriors of Jorrvaskr are at your command."
Companions. The warrior clan of Whiterun. She scrambled to get her thoughts in order.
"We are eternally in your debt, Vilkas." Elisif stammered in reply. The royal guards and Vilkas's shield-siblings began to drag the Thalmor bodies off of the road, putting down any survivors as they went. "I fear we would have been defeated without your help. What brings the Companions so far north?"
Vilkas's brow furrowed in vexation. "I'm sure you've heard the new Jarl of Whiterun has banned all elves from the city. Several of my shield-brothers and sisters were among that number. We could not abandon them, so the Companions have left Whiterun until the elves can return."
"I promise to talk to Hrongar about this matter when we reach Whiterun." Elisif felt tired, and gross. A dead man's blood was drying on her face. She didn't want to talk to this wolf-man anymore.
"My Queen, I suggest we make camp here for the night. It's much too dangerous to travel in the darkness in times like these." Bolgeir suggested, perhaps sensing her fatigue. She nodded assent and the housecarl began shouting orders at his men, moving the wounded and assembling tents from the carriages.
Elisif drifted away from Vilkas and found herself sitting in the grass, looking out at the river Hjaal. The water looked so black with the sun down, like the deadly nightshade that grew outside the Blue Palace. She heard someone walking up to her, and then a wet cloth was wiping the blood from her face.
"Thank you, Sybille." The mage sat down beside Elisif, their shoulders touching through the tall grasses. "I'm sorry I didn't find you after the battle. Are you alright?"
"I'm fine, Elisif. I'm worried about you." Sybille's voice was comforting after the clashing of steel from earlier. "You've never killed anyone before." It wasn't a question.
"It was so horrible, Sybille. I tell myself I'm stronger now, I have to be strong for my people, but..." Elisif's voice cracked as she fought back tears.
"Hush, dear." Sybille's arm circled around her neck, pulling her into a hug. "You're not alone in this fight. You have me, and Bolgeir, and much of Skyrim still stands behind you."
They rested in comfortable silence for a time, like only two close friends can, the absence of words not creating a divide between the two but bringing them closer together. Bolgeir quietly approached to bring Elisif to her tent, and she went with him without protest.
When the High Queen pushed her tent flap aside, she found someone waiting on her bedroll. Can't say I'm surprised. Their meeting had been inevitable, and now was a good a time as any to get it over with. Emissary Stoker was in a meditative pose, golden eyelids shut and hands clasped together. A simple leather doublet covered his chest, and a fur hood obscured most of his elven features. Elisif sat down across from him, knowing that this man would've killed her already had he wished her dead.
"I told you we would meet in person, Elisif. I had hoped to wait a bit longer, but the actions of my subordinates accelerated matters." Stoker's voice lacked the high-pitched haughtiness of most Altmer, his rolling tone instead giving the impression of a wise scholar or monk.
"You killed Jax." Elisif said, all political niceties and genuine curiosity falling away in the face of this man who had done so much harm to her. "You murdered him in cold blood."
"Murder is a strong word. I was just doing what I was ordered to do, Elisif. Serving my people. Serving the Dominion. There was nothing personal in it."
Elisif's hand fell to her side, silently feeling around for the concealed dagger she kept there. The only light came from the moon shining through the tent's canopy, hopefully not enough illumination to expose her movements.
"Do you want to see Jaxius?" Stoker asked, cocking his head. "I brought him with me, you know. Can't trust the Dragonborn being left with anyone else."
"What are you saying?" Stoker's word were making her sick, a confused dizziness running through her head. The hilt of the dagger felt so cold in her fingers. "You killed him. You said you did."
Stoker reached into his robe, pulling out a black soul gem. The crystal was glowing with a pulsing ethereal light, Elisif saw with disbelieving eyes. The Emissary held the soul of Jaxius Amaton in his hand.
"By the Eight..." Elisif brought a hand to her mouth. "You couldn't even let him die, you bastard? It's not enough to just murder him, you have to tear his soul from his body?"
The soul gem disappeared back into the folds of Stoker's robes, so quickly that Elisif was scarcely sure the crystal had been in the first place. A dark shadow had fallen across the Emissary's face.
"I really don't enjoy how you're making this so dramatic. I offered him a chance at surrender, you know. Not my fault if the prideful fool would rather die than be taken prisoner."
Elisif felt the dagger slip into her hand, still hidden under her long sleeve. She summoned all of her mental energy towards the thought of Stoker lying dead, her dagger through his throat. Jax would be avenged, along with countless others. Her arm shook, and the dagger slipped from her hand on to the ground.
Stoker's eyes flickered to the glint of moonlight on steel. An animal rage passed through his countenance, the likes of which Elisif had only seen before on rabid dogs before they were put down. The other side of Emissary Stoker came out and leapt at Elisif, pulling her into a choke hold. She felt his tall body cover her like a suffocating sheet.
"That wasn't very friendly at all. Count yourself fortunate you lost the will to use that dagger." His voice in her ear had lost all of the calmness and civility of before. There was a harshness and anger Elisif associated more with scorned lovers than devious Altmer. "You seem determined to make this an unpleasant meeting, so fine, we'll do it your way."
His knee pressed into Elisif's back, stretching her body painfully. Stoker stifled her groans of agony with a golden hand on her mouth. The scent of expensive lotions filled her nostrils, his fingers soft, the skin unbroken.
"I'll tell you what's going to happen." He whispered to her. "I'm not going to kill you in this tent. I'm going to see you again, in Whiterun. Next time, we will sit and talk like civil people." His knee pressed down and Elisif grimaced against his palm. She could feel his furious stare digging into the back of her head, judging and final.
The pressure left her back, the tent flap rustled, and she was alone again. Elisif rolled over, gasping for air. Only the pain in her spine and the fading scent of leather left any sign of Stoker's visit. I nearly killed him. He had truly been shocked at the appearance of a weapon on her part. She would have to do better next time. Sit and talk like civil people. How could she let a chance like that slip by her? The Queen felt like her old self was slowly returning. New Elisif would not have dropped the dagger.
For now, the Whiterun moot was her priority. Elisif would need her rest for the road tomorrow. She closed her eyes and pretended to sleep, hoping to fool her racing mind into submission. Deep inside, some part of her knew sleep could not come tonight. There were wolves prowling about far more dangerous than Vilkas and his Companions, and Elisif had just made one of them quite cross.
Author's Note: Please review if you are continuing to enjoy this story! I will try to update more frequently.