[A/N] Good news: I'm actually feeling motivated to write (as evidenced by the fact that I wrote this chapter in less than three days)! And man, it feels good to not be "meh" about everything and actually be excited about something.
Anyway, lots of talking in this, but I think you guys will like this one. Big bombshells being dropped. :)
[DISCLAIMER] I do not own The Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim or anything related to it; that's Bethesda's deal, not mine (sadly). However, Ronan Sorleigh and Kajsa Red-Blade are my original characters, and they belong to me.
CHAPTER XXXVIII – Past, Present, Future
"I don't even know where to start with this." Kajsa idly ran one finger around the rim of her goblet, her eyes dark. "It seems... too vast, too complex to possibly explain or comprehend."
"Are you speaking of why you and your forces are with the Dawnguard?" Ronan asked hesitantly. "About the Thalmor agent with Harkon?" Or about the secret I'm about to tell you?
He could almost hear Nocturnal raising an eyebrow. Kajsa does not have the ability to read your mind, My Champion. Her tone was light, but there was a sort of mocking to it. She will know nothing of her half-brother until you reveal yourself as such.
"Yes." The Dragonborn leaned back in her chair; out of her armor and without any trappings of her station, she looked much too weary for a woman as young as her. "Isran didn't need to know this – better to concern him with matters of vampires – but that does not hold for you."
The joint forces of the Dawnguard and the Stormcloaks Kajsa had brought with her from Windhelm had moved quickly; in a matter of days, the legion had gone from the southernmost corner of the Rift to the plains of Whiterun, stopping only at night to set up camp and then packing up at first light to keep going. Ronan had calculated that if they kept pushing on at this rate – and indeed, it looked like their forces would – they would be at Castle Volkihar in very short order.
"Why?" the Breton asked, confused. "If there's a threat to the Dawnguard from the Thalmor, Isran should know of it." Especially if the agent is the Disciple...
"Because the Dominion's threat reaches farther than just Skyrim." Kajsa took a sip of her wine. "You remember Valmir?"
A distant memory of the Altmer posing as a scholar resurfaced, and Ronan nodded. Gods... how long was that ago? How different my life was then...
"He wasn't the only one who the Thalmor had charged with finding artifacts. And they weren't merely looking for these artifacts in Skyrim." Reaching over to the table beside her, the Dragonborn retrieved a folder bulging with papers. Opening it on her lap, she pulled out the top sheet of paper and passed it over to him. "And it most certainly was not out of scholarly curiosity."
Ronan examined the paper, inhaling sharply at the words.
Operation Priesthood
Head of Operations: Elenwen Saururiil
Status: In Execution, Highest Priority, By Order of the Dominion
"Now you see what I mean," Kajsa remarked dryly. "At least I know how Elenwen's in the Dominion's good graces again – but it's certainly not pleasant news to hear."
"No. No, it isn't," the Breton agreed, handing back the paper. "Do you know more about this 'Operation Priesthood'?"
"Not at first. It kept coming up – in dossiers, in half-destroyed reports, in testimonies – but we were never quite sure of what it was until..." The Dragonborn gestured to the folder of papers on her lap. "This is what my spy was able to get to me. The picture it paints is... clear, to say the least."
Ronan swallowed. "And – what would that be, exactly?" he questioned, fidgeting with his own goblet, unsure if he actually wanted to know or not.
Kajsa put her wine down, and then folded her hands over the papers, her expression grim. "From what my sources have told me, Operation Priesthood consists of three phases. Some of the actions of the first phase we've encountered multiple times: the acquisition of rare artifacts. This was a massive effort, requiring hundreds of agents spread throughout Tamriel, searching for the most powerful objects from history and lore that they could find. But an aspect of the first phase that we couldn't see was going on in Elsweyr, with the spreading of rumors by Thalmor spies masquerading as 'prophets,' all warning of the return of the Void Nights."
The Breton had raised his goblet to his lips for a sip of wine, but he froze. "The Void Nights?" he repeated. "Masser and Secunda vanishing from the sky until the Dominion claimed that they'd been restored through their power?" A horrifying thought dawned on him. "The prophecy."
"Exactly," Kajsa said flatly. "The second phase involved an alliance with the Volkihar vampires and placing an agent in their ranks. Unfortunately, the documents I have don't mention the agent's name, but whoever they are, they were a vampire before their new assignment and an incredibly skilled mage as well. This agent's task was to aid in Harkon's attempts to bring the Tyranny of the Sun to fruition – which also involves finding another powerful artifact, Auriel's Bow, for the Dominion."
"And then they'd plunge the world into darkness, just as they and the Scrolls predicted," Ronan finished, his voice barely above a whisper. "If they snuffed out the sun, do you suppose –?"
"– that they could do to the same to the moons as well? I don't know, but something tells me that the Dominion will try: just to see if they can." Her tone was dripping with disgust.
"What's the third phase?" the Breton asked, heart quailing in his chest.
The Dragonborn was silent for a moment. Then: "The Dominion have no intention of releasing their hold on Tamriel, especially not when it's caught in an eternal night. All that's left for them to do is to take up the artifacts and bestow them on their leaders and highest-ranking operatives – and let them conquer." Her face was like stone, but there was barely-concealed anger in her eyes. "And Tamriel would be almost helpless to resist."
Ronan could barely breathe. "That's – that's –" He struggled with his words. "Almost... unbelievable. Audacious, cunning... and completely monstrous."
"You don't have the same experience with the Thalmor that I do." Kajsa's voice was cold. "They have always thought themselves to be gods – and Operation Priesthood just proves their ambitions."
"No, I believe you." The Breton slumped back in his chair. "It's just... a lot to take in."
The Dragonborn smiled humorlessly. "You should have seen my husband. Ulfric was beyond rage when he read the contents of this folder."
Ronan frowned suddenly as a thought occurred to him. "I – I don't mean to insult you or pry in any way, but – does your husband know you're here?" he asked cautiously.
Kajsa arched an eyebrow. "Oh, he's noticed by now. I would be very disappointed in him if he didn't." She reached for her wine again and drank. "My safety concerns my husband greatly, almost as much as that of Skyrim's. Unfortunately, his... territorial instincts have a tendency to cloud his judgment on occasion."
"So you just left?"
"I'm here, aren't I?" Her tone was razor-sharp.
"And you're not concerned about your own safety at all?" the Breton asked quietly. "You said it yourself that the Dominion is your worst enemy. And you – you're the Dragonborn, the High Queen of Skyrim. You have a husband and a son. Aren't you worried about what would happen if you fell into the Thalmor's hands?"
The Dragonborn almost flinched, her face pained, but her gaze remained steely. "You sound like you're giving me reasons to cower in Windhelm. But to me, that is every reason not to.
"I was a mercenary once: a thief, an assassin, a sellsword. I did what I did because of coin and what I wanted." Her countenance softened a little, almost growing melancholy. "I learned very recently that it's a different thing to fight for people you love – your friends, your family, your partner – and it is infinitely more precious than gold."
Unable to respond, Ronan simply nodded.
If you truly wish to enlighten her as to her family tree, you cannot stay silent forever, my Champion, Nocturnal purred. Go on. Tell your... half-sister of the blood you share.
The Breton exhaled heavily. As much as he hated to admit it, the Daedric Prince was right.
"Kajsa," he started uncertainly, fingers tightening around his wine glass, "I – I have something to tell you."
Kajsa pursed her lips slightly. "That doesn't sound ominous at all," she said dryly.
Ronan tried to laugh, but the sound came out slightly strangled. He cleared his throat, trying to think of how to begin. "I took you up on your suggestion and – and I visited Riftweald Manor," he said finally.
"Really." Her tone was neutral, but her eyes were dark. "Did you find anything?"
"Not at first. I think the Guild had cleared it out long ago – but you already knew that, didn't you?" His last sentence came out more accusing than he meant it.
The Dragonborn shrugged. "Think what you would like. I told you the Guild hadn't touched it and that was the truth – not much to salvage." She took a last sip of her wine before setting aside her empty goblet. "But I'm guessing you found something of worthy note."
Ronan took in a breath. "A journal of sorts, stuffed inside a mattress. Mercer didn't write about much beyond the affairs of the Guild, but – he mentioned your mother. Rozenna." He paused, trying to gauge her reaction.
It was a shock to him to see the grief laid bare on Kajsa's normally stoic face. "My – my mother?" she repeated numbly. "He wrote about her? About her murder?"
The Breton shook his head slightly. "Not about that, no, but there was evidence of pages being ripped out, so... he may have at some point." His voice trailed off. "But... after that, Mercer mentions taking care of a loose end. The adoption of a child in Honorhall by his own father in Daggerfall. My adoption." He stopped, unconsciously lowering his eyes from hers.
"Go on." The Dragonborn's voice sounded hoarser than usual.
Inhaling deeply, Ronan forced himself to meet her gaze again. This is it. This is when I tell her. "When Mercer wrote about that... he said that he owed Rozenna that much."
The realization came as the color slowly drained from Kajsa's face. "My – your – our mother –" She was stumbling over her words in her distress. "Rozenna... and Mercer?" Now the disgust was evident in her tone. "How?"
"I don't know," the Breton said, all too aware of how helpless he sounded. "I don't know how they first met. I don't know why he killed her. I don't know anything beyond the fact that – that Rozenna was my mother and that Mercer put me in Honorhall while she was still alive." He sighed. "And then when she was dead, he finally got me out."
Kajsa swallowed hard, her eyes hollow. Then: "Leave me." Her voice was sharp again, but it didn't have the edge he was used to hearing. "I – I need to think on this."
Ronan didn't need to be told twice. Rising from his chair, he made for the opening of the tent and walked out. He'd barely left before he heard the skittering sound of a wine bottle being hurled to the ground, accompanied by muttered curses that faded into hitches of breath.
Serana had been sitting quietly, hands folded in her lap and eyes wide and grave, but as Ronan finally finished recounting his conversation with Kajsa, she spoke up. "I'm surprised you told her about your mother," she commented. "With the assault on Castle Volkihar and this 'Operation Priesthood', it would seem to me that the High Queen has enough to worry about right now."
The Breton sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I just – I couldn't think of any better time to do it," he said lamely. "I didn't think it through that well, and... it went about as well as I expected." He paused. "Actually, it went better, seeing as I'm still alive."
The vampire smiled sympathetically. "Don't be too hard on yourself. You made the best of a bad situation." Suddenly, she frowned. "Did you tell her about Rozenna being in the Soul Cairn."
"No. Gods, no." Ronan sat down heavily next to her on the cot. "I think that would have just made it worse – and a lot more difficult to explain."
Serana nodded. "Good point." She scrutinized him for a moment. Then: "Are you ready?"
The Breton looked over at her. "Ready for what? Storming the castle and facing Harkon? Thwarting the Dominion's plan?"
"All of those, I suppose." The vampire's eyes suddenly seemed very far away. "It's strange... I've mentally prepared myself for what we're up against, but... it's what comes after that frightens me more." She laughed dryly. "Assuming we survive to see an 'after.'"
Ronan's brow furrowed. "You don't know what you want to do with your life?"
Serana smirked slightly. "And you do?"
The Breton's frown deepened. Now that she mentioned it, his future looked highly uncertain. Leaving Skyrim still isn't an option, and at this rate, neither is joining the Guild. So what then? The Dawnguard – assuming Isran will take me? Windhelm? Or...
"No, I don't," he finally said. "But... if there was any possibility I could stay with you..." His voice trailed off as a flush crept into his cheeks.
The vampire's smirk faded into a genuine smile: small and tentative, but a smile all the same. "I think I'd like that," she said, placing one of her hands over his.
"You – you mean that?" he asked, suddenly and irrationally worried. "You don't have a problem with me or my past or –"
Serana sighed. "Ronan, don't do that."
"Do what?"
"Talk about yourself like you're the scum of the earth." Leaning over, she gently kissed his forehead. "Trust me when I say you're about as far removed from them as one could ever get."
"And Jolaine?" Saying her name always made him feel like a stone was slipping off his tongue. "You – you deserve to know the truth about her. She's the reason I came to Skyrim –"
"One day, maybe," the vampire said firmly, her other hand going to his cheek. "But I hope you know that you don't need to justify yourself to me. You're a good man, maybe even one of the best I've met." She paused. "I – I trust you, Ronan. I trust you completely."
A lump rising in his throat, Ronan wrapped his arms around her and held her close. A wish flashed across his mind, as fleeting as it was, that they could stay like this forever.
Smiling into his shoulder, Serana returned the hug just as tightly, her fingers curling around the straps of his leathers and anchoring herself to him.
[A/N] I think we all know what's coming next: the big battle! Unfortunately, it'll take me a little time to write it, seeing that it's going to be a really long chapter (or two shorter chapters that I'll just split up), and because there's lots going on.
Anyway, thanks for reading and sticking with me, and please: feel free to review!