Chapter 52: Duplicity
Gissur's legs collapsed under him. He wheezed and coughed, but instead of air, blood spurted from his mouth, spraying Etienne's torso. The prisoner flinched and turned his head away, but remained silent.
I clamped a tight hand over my mouth and watched, wide-eyed and horrified as my petite sister held Gissur up on his now-useless knees, gritting her teeth as she twisted her phantom daggers and drove them deeper into his spinal column.
With a shudder and a wet splurt, Gissur finished falling and crashed face-first into the hard-packed floor by Etienne's dangling feet.
Giselle stepped back with a huff; wiped sweat from her brow with an arm as she emotionlessly watched the man convulse below her. With an idle wave of her hand, the daggers snuffed out of existence. "Nobody's going to miss you," she muttered as she crouched, tugged the dead man's dagger from his belt, and retrieved the ring of keys.
"Why did you do that?" I spluttered. My feet moved of their own accord and I found myself standing in the doorway to the cell gripping the frame. "He trusted you!"
"He was a sadist who got off on hurting those who couldn't fight back," Giselle fired, flicking an angry glance over her shoulder. "Is that how you thank someone for saving your life?"
She didn't seem to require a response and turned, stepping a daintily-clad foot over Gissur's prone, twitching body. Reaching up, she unshackled Etienne's wrists, catching the man as he crumpled forward in a heap.
"Whoa, there," she murmured, steadying him to his knees. "Hey. Etienne? You're Etienne Rarnis, right?" she crouched down, holding his face between her hands with a gentleness that did not match her actions half a minute earlier. "You've got to get out of here," she hushed. "Go back and tell the old man you ratted out to run, do you hear me?"
"What's going on?" with a wince and a groan, the man lifted his head; opened his eyes a crack. "Weren't you about to interrogate me?"
"Not today. Come on, up you get," my sister smiled and rose, helping Etienne to his feet. "There's a trapdoor nearby," she steadied him against the wall. "Leads to a cave – which leads into the wilds. It's a bit cold but if you steal a horse, you might make it home. Just make sure you tell Esbern that they're coming for him, as soon as you're there."
"I don't know if – my legs-"
"You'll find a way if you want to live," she palmed him the keys and threw the dagger she'd taken from Gissur's belt into its owner's back; clearly intending to make Etienne's disappearance look like a stabbing and escape. "Go, now," she urged, hauling the prisoner past me and pointing to a dirt-covered square indentation in the floor.
The Breton didn't need to be told again. He scurried away, and with a creak of wood and the squeak of a hinge, he was gone.
With a sigh – of actual relief? – Giselle glanced down at herself. Spots of blood and dirt marred the expensive mauve silk. With a quiet laugh, she waved her hand leisurely over the evidence of her deeds. A small curl of bright green light appeared; the blood was gone and she was pristine once more. Only then did her eyes find mine, sparkling with triumph. "Back upstairs, before they realise we're here," she suggested calmly.
My sister took a step toward me and I startled back, eyeing her warily and flickering between her all-knowing smirk and her outstretched hand. "What in Shor's name is going on Giselle?" I hissed, my voice dangerous and low.
"For the love of-" my sister bit out, rolling her eyes. "Upstairs, now," she ordered in a tone that reminded me more of mother than her. She didn't wait for a response and made for the door.
What choice did I have but to follow her? Go down the chute after Etienne and leave Hadvar upstairs in a panic?
As my sister led the way through the dark, tunnel-like rooms and back up the winding staircases, my sluggish thoughts tried in vain to make sense of what I had witnessed. Every time I encountered my sister she threw me anew. Was she working for Ulfric – or the Thalmor the entire time – and doing what, spying on him for the Dominion? She was a mage, not a soldier trained in espionage.
Forget anything you ever knew about her, I told myself sternly.
The journey to the entry room of the Solar took no time at all. My sister delivered me to the bench I'd been at earlier and placed a champagne flute in my hand.
"So," she sat beside me; turned her knees in as though we were about to take tea together and share the latest gossip. "Time to tell me why you're here," she murmured in an amused tone.
I couldn't stop staring at her. How could she be so serene? She had literally just stabbed a man in the back. Wait - "No," my tongue managed to curl out the word. "No - no, first," I held up my hand, shuffling back to put some space between us. "First, you tell me what just happened."
"I've already told you," Giselle leaned back on her hands, smiling to herself as her gaze fell; she stared at her lap. She swung her legs back and forth a little, like a contented child might. Mauve silk swished in the brief silence.
"I just saved your life," she clarified. "Maybe two, if the thief has any courage left."
"It looked more like murder to me-"
"Oh come on, Celeste," Giselle met my eyes, hers brimming with victory. "What do you think Gissur would have done when he realised you weren't me, hmm?" she asked. "Didn't really think that part of your little plan through, did you?" she cocked her head.
I glared at her – because she was right, and I hated that. I'd just gone in and assumed I'd be able to improvise my way out in a couple of minutes.
"So, sister," she sat forward again, scooting closer. "I've answered your question. Now it's my turn. Why are you here?"
"Stop it," warily, my eyes found hers again. "Who do you really work for? They paralysed and dragged you out of that camp-"
"You never would let me have my turn," Giselle laughed, delighted as she raised her eyes to the ceiling. "All right," she recovered, shaking her head fondly. "We'll do this the easy way."
"What's-?"
A breath caught in my throat as a dullness filled my ears, and I could say no more. A dense, unnatural azure clouded my vision, and then my sister's face materialised through the fog, swimming before me. "Celeste," she said impishly, her voice echoing between my ears, "why did you come to the Embassy tonight?"
My blood boiled, coiling and focussing into a furious Fus Ro; she was compelling me with some sort of spell. But when my mouth opened to Shout her across the room, calm, compliant words pushed out between my lips instead:
"To save you."
"What?" she frowned, confused, and attempted to blink it off. "Clarify. Why did you think I needed saving?"
"I thought they were torturing you," I couldn't stop myself from replying.
With a flick of her wrist, the blue vanished and I gasped a jarring lungful of air. Just as suddenly as it had been taken from me, my own will was back. "What the hell?" I winced; my mind buzzed and faint starbursts bloomed behind my eyes.
My sister stood and took a step back, her widened eyes on me all the while. She was pale and her voice trembled when she spoke. "You need to leave," she glanced briefly toward Rulindil's office. "You're good at pretending. Pretend that the wine has made you ill."
"What?" I hissed. My exasperation peaked – my sister just compelled truths from my lips – and was ordering me to leave without any understanding of what was going on with her?
There was a creak from the direction of Rulindil's room; in a flash, Giselle was back and wrapping her arms around me in a fierce hug. "I am so relieved that we were able to have this time together," she simpered in a warm voice that did not sound like her at all. The part of me that had been trained to pretend reacted instinctively sensing the need, but I barely had time to lift my arms before she eased back and noticed the Third Emissary emerging from his office. "Ah, the meeting is over. I suppose your fiancee will be wanting you back now," she stepped aside, brushing down the folds of her dress.
"Giselle?" there was a frown in Rulindil's clipped tone.
Hadvar stepped around the Thalmor Emissary. "What's going on?" he asked swiftly in horror.
"What are you doing?" Rulindil asked dispassionately at the same moment.
"Ondolemar told me to come to you," she lifted her chin, smiling lazily as she addressed the Altmer coyly – another mask that I did not know she possessed. "I was bored at the party, and he suggested you might have something for me to do."
"Yes, very well," Rulindil shuffled, glancing toward the stairs. "I told Gissur to look out for you tonight. Where is that witless oaf?"
Giselle's eyes sparkled with amusement. "Hazard a guess; drunk and asleep in the hay?" she asked playfully.
Rulindil huffed; his eyes narrowed slightly. "I'll take you myself," he murmured, beckoning. She obeyed immediately, and he vaguely inclined his head toward me; his thoughts clearly elsewhere. "Our chat will have to be delayed," he sighed. "Enjoy the party. Perhaps we shall cross paths at the next."
"As you wish," I conceded; my focus trained on ensuring my voice didn't shake. He wants Etienne's information more than he wants mine, which means that this Esbern is of a higher priority than Delphine. Or, perhaps he assumes Giselle has questioned me.
Well. She had, hadn't she?
He cast a swift nod in Hadvar's direction. "My regards to the General."
Hadvar murmured a pleasantry that I'm not sure anybody heard.
With an elitist huff about slobbish local servants, Rulindil and my sister glided away. Giselle laughed prettily, completely at ease with the Thalmor, and didn't bother sparing a glance behind her.
She might have been playing a dangerous game with some very dangerous, powerful people, but her utter commitment rattled me as much as her actions. I hadn't realised – hadn't understood – what she was truly capable of until now. And I am supposed to be the performer.
Hadvar was by my side. He tried to ask a question but I stopped him, placing a quick hand on his chest plate as I watched the Altmer and my sister disappear from view.
Once they were gone, I let out a gasp and covered my face with my hands, muffling a string of expletives that would have made Farkas blush as I turned into his chest. With a sharp pang, the realisation struck me: I was no longer angry with my sister; I was terrified of her.
"What happened?" he held me up; his voice a sharp hiss. "Did she hurt you?"
"No," I snapped, lowering my hands. Frustration poured from me and I winced, trying to reign it back. She had saved me – well, technically she had saved Etienne for Shor knew what reason, but in the process she had gotten me out of a situation I probably wouldn't have been able to talk my way out of – before she had used some sort of Illusion spell on me to pull truths from my lips. I didn't know enough about magic to untangle precisely what she had done.
And then her mask had slipped. She had not expected my response and for a second, I had scared her.
It had been startling to hear myself say it, but I could not deny it. I had not come to the Embassy to confirm Delphine's paranoid hunch; in that regard I had come to prove the Blade wrong. I knew in the depths of my soul that the Thalmor were not behind the rise of the dragons, any more than the Blade was herself – but my instincts and insight into the matter, for whatever reason, weren't enough for her. She had to have evidence, and I had agreed to do her dirty work to spite her.
Well. It had been stupid of me to agree to this, but she could go and rot if she thought I would put any more lives at risk in her name.
I met Hadvar's concerned eyes. "Can we go?" I whispered. I couldn't speak – couldn't think here. "I'm..." I glanced around the Solar, reaching for an excuse. "I...I think the champagne has made me ill," I whispered in defeat.
With a knot in his brow, he tucked me under his arm and guided me into the open air. A stiff wind sent the snow swirling, and Hadvar whipped his cloak around both of us as a shield from the worst of it. For a moment I wondered how he knew where to go; this was not the indoor path that Brelas had brought us along, but then I remembered that he'd been shown a map, and been briefed properly, before he had been sent in. He was getting me back to the ballroom by the quickest route possible.
Once inside, he rubbed the chill from my arms, ducking down to meet my eyes. "Any better?" he murmured.
I glanced around the elegant ballroom, reeling back everything I wanted to feel. More guests were dancing now. Dean Ateia was singing a soft ballad that I couldn't recall the name of, and her accompanying student had picked up a lute – the strings squeaked as he slid his fingers along the neck to change chords. All was calm – beautiful, even – but when Rulindil and Giselle discovered Gissur murdered in Etienne's cell, and the prisoner gone, it might no longer be. Surely they wouldn't lock the Embassy down? They wouldn't want the powerful people in this room finding out that the had lost one of their prisoners tonight.
"A little better," I lied; my eyes found his, silently asking if we could leave. "Productive meeting?" I paved the way for our escape.
Hadvar puffed out an overwhelmed breath. "Yes. I hope so."
"Good," my eyes fell to my hands as I traced a pattern on his arms. "Then, let's get you back to Castle Dour; those scouts are relying on you."
Our exit was slower than I would have liked. On our way to the coat room, Jarl Elisef found me and insisted on introducing me to her neighbouring Jarls; the stern Jarl Ravencrone of Morthal and the rugged Jarl Merilis of Dawnstar. Neither women seemed particularly interested in me, and were even less interested in Hadvar, but Elisef was pleasant company and I let my inner bard control my responses to her. Within, I felt nauseous.
After I gave her some attention I managed to excuse myself. Hadvar caught my arm; he stared at me for a heartbeat. Sorry, his eyes said.
"Oh – Celeste, dear!" a high voice trilled from close by.
I didn't understand Hadvar's look, and faltered in the act of turning toward the person who had called – I was certain it had been Lady Vici. Before I spotted her, he swept down and kissed me, stealing my breath; persistent, and straightaway deep with longing.
He kissed me long enough to earn chuckles from the guests in our vicinity – I even caught one of them muttering get a room. My cheeks pinked; Hadvar's over the top, very public kiss was to prevent anyone else from bothering me. His hands wound into my hair and when he withdrew, his pupils were so large that I could barely see any grey around them. He cleared his throat; cast me a somewhat cheeky half-smile before he briefly glanced around the room.
"I think that had the desired effect."
I nodded, trying not to laugh, still recovering my breath as Hadvar purposefully ushered me to the bar. He retrieved my cape; helped to fasten it around my shoulders and lifted the hood, brushing back the fall of my hair so it was tucked within – his movements gentle, but hasty.
Our eyes met; more wordless messages. There was such conflict in him; such passion, confusion and concern. I wondered if he could read my emotions from my eyes and tell me how to understand them, for I wasn't even certain about what I was feeling.
But Farkas would be able to help me there. What's he going to think of what's happened?
We walked from the Thalmor Embassy and ran to the coach for the snow fell in thick clumps, buffeted by a gale that extinguished the lanterns in the courtyard and made the trees bend and sway, struggling to free themselves of their worldly tether.
It was a relief to sit in the sheltered coach and settle into Hadvar's arms. I could breathe again, even if I could not form a coherent thought around the storm raging in my head.
Tell Farkas and Hadvar what happened, was the only plan I could settle on. They could help me figure out what it all meant. Acknowledging that I didn't have to do this alone somewhat soothed me.
Only the howling wind followed us back to Solitude. In the back of my mind, I wondered what I might tell Delphine, and had the thought that perhaps it would be better if I simply never saw the Blade again.
The walk to the inn was a blur. The snow fell just as thickly as it had at the Embassy, and I stared up to the obscured heavens, blinking snow from my lashes and wondering how the barely-clad Etienne would ever survive the night? By now, Gissur's body and Etienne's escape would have been discreetly related to Ambassador Elenwen. Freezing to death was possibly a kinder alternative, if the Thalmor mobilised quickly enough to pursue him.
Farkas opened the door to our room before we reached it; held it open as we bustled in. "You found her then?"
"If you mean Giselle – oh, we found her," Hadvar growled.
My eyes shot up; my heart leapt, but my voice wouldn't come.
"And?" Farkas was wary; silvery eyes flickering between Hadvar and I. "Where'd you stash her?"
"No need," Hadvar said through clenched teeth. "She seemed perfectly happy where she was-"
"No – wait," my thoughts coiled each other; there were things he didn't know. Moonlit silver and stormy grey honed on me in enquiry; one uncertain and the other full of fire. My mouth opened uselessly at first, but they waited – and I managed – "she...saved me."
"Saved you?"
"Sort of," I blinked dumbly.
"Is she drunk?" Farkas drawled in Hadvar's direction.
I crossed my brows at my shield-brother; he was the only person who knew what drunk-me looked like, and this wasn't it. "Let me speak."
They let and remained silent while I explained all that had occurred during Hadvar's meeting.
When I was through, Hadvar strode to me, picked me up, and enveloped me in a bone-crushing hug. "Celeste, how could–? You could have died–" he hissed.
"But she didn't," Farkas pointed out in a grumble.
"We'll get to the bottom of this," Hadvar stepped back to take my shoulders and duck to my level. "I'll take this, all of it, straight to the General," he vowed.
A weight of defeat settled over me. "I don't think you can," I murmured regretfully. "They clearly want it known that they have Giselle, but if the Thalmor find out she killed Gissur and released Etienne, she'll-" I faltered. Well – she'd what? Be tortured, killed, disappeared. We were back to that scenario, then.
Hadvar's eyes flickered with doubt and he stood tall. "Okay," he huffed with evident restraint. "Remember that your sister is responsible for – many deaths, and will be brought to justice-"
"I know," I insisted quickly, nodding for emphasis. "Just – catch her. Make her stand trial and give us some answers," I palmed my eyes in frustration. Exhaustion was closing in fast – or perhaps my body was finally no longer producing adrenaline in the volumes it had in the past few hours. "That is how we're supposed to do things in the Empire, is it not?" I asked bleakly.
Hadvar's frustration softened. He nodded, barely, just once. "All right, love."
Farkas moved; settled against the wall beside the window. My eyes were on Hadvar, but in the corners, he glared out into the snowy night. "I don't get it," he murmured. "She's been working for the Thalmor all this time?"
"Who can say," Hadvar's shoulders fell as he stepped back; glanced toward the door. "And I have to speak to the General, before it's too late for our scouts," he turned back; found my hand and gave it a squeeze; stared at our joined hands with his faraway eyes full of sorrow. "Farkas, take care of her."
Farkas mumbled something but I didn't catch it as the realisation struck me. At once, my eyes filled with tears. "Oh Gods. This is – you're saying good bye aren't you?" I uttered around the sudden lump in my throat.
His thumb drew slow circles on my hand. "Not forever," he murmured pensively.
"But for now?" I asked hastily, trying to meet his eye. "The General will send you away as soon as you've made your report, won't he?"
Hadvar glanced up regretfully through his lashes; his tone flat. "Our officers are being held in Fort Kastav. A regiment is on standby and the orders were to mobilise the moment we had their location. I'm to lead the escape. I'm sorry," his voice lilted; cracked a little. "If it weren't people's lives at risk-"
I clenched my eyes closed and made myself nod. He was to march on a Stormcloak stronghold, risk his life in the name of others – it would be selfish to ask him to stay but Divines I wished the war would just end. "You have nothing to be sorry for," I choked out.
"Here," his free hand ducked into his armour; pulled out a slim sheath of papers, bound in leather. "I don't care what she wants, but – this might give you some answers. Might not."
"What is it?" I blubbed, accepting the document. The words on the title page swam toward me, hazy through my blurred vision.
Delphine Comtois, Status: Active (Capture or Kill), High Priority, Emissary Level Approval.
My tears fled. "How did you get this?" I shuddered.
In a beat, Farkas was by my side, reading over my shoulder. After a brief scan, he began to chuckle. "Oh, good job, soldier."
Hadvar took a step back, smiling humbly as he motioned toward it. "The Third Emissary put a bunch of these on his desk at the end of our meeting."
I paled. Of course he had; Rulindil had intended to question me about her, but – Hadvar hadn't known that! "And you took it?" my eyes widened.
"There were more," he admitted. "All about her. Doubt they'll realise they're missing one for a while."
Both he and Farkas seemed far too calm, and I had to close my eyes to suppress the desire to yell at both of them. "If they found this on you," I started quietly, unable to finish the sentence.
"But they didn't," Farkas was holding back his laughter. "Oh, she's going to love this. Let me see," he made a motion for the dossier.
Relinquishing it without a second glance, I closed the space between us and embraced Hadvar in a fierce hug. It seemed that we had both done something really stupid that could have gone very badly at the Embassy.
He stroked my hair; settled me more comfortably against him. "Play your lute for me, okay?" he reminded in a whisper. "Every day."
The idea sent warm, fluttering butterflies to my stomach. "Yes. Every day," I echoed quietly.
"And I'm...really sorry I can't help you ruin another dress," he laughed quietly.
A laugh bubbled out of me too and I leaned up to place a soft, fond kiss on his cheek. "Like you said," I bumped his forehead with mine. "To be continued."
His brief good bye kiss promised so much more, but it was over too quickly, and then I had to let him go. The word stay was on my lips while we silently watched each other from opposite sides of the doorway. In his eyes I read his response; ask me to stay.
For the sake of the soldiers imprisoned in Fort Kastav, neither of us could speak.
With a small, warm smile and a final squeeze to my hand, he turned and walked away, and I closed the door automatically. I stared at the panels of wood between us, praying that he would return. That he'd knock and be there smiling; his report, and rescue, could at least wait until morning. My fingers arched over the handle, fighting the urge to race after him when the knock didn't come.
"You gotta read this," Farkas called out, breaking the spell.
I blinked across the room. The candles on the table made the plains of his face ruddier than usual. "Um..." I wavered; blinked again. Cleared the tremor from my throat. I had to focus. "Is it Interesting?" I tried again.
"Yeah," Farkas leaned back with a satisfied grin plastered on his face.
My heart tugged me in one direction, but my head took me to Farkas. With a smile to mask the ache in my chest, I retreated to the seat opposite my shield-brother. "Do you think she'll be interested in it?"
"Without a doubt," Farkas pushed the papers toward me then sat back, crossing his arms, still wearing that wide, amused grin.
Casting him a curious smile, I glanced down and read. It was clear this was a volume in many others, for it began as though the writer had been part way through a thought:
Her continued existence is an affront to all of us. Any information on her whereabouts or activities should be immediately forwarded to the Third Emissary.
Capturing the remaining Blades is our top priority. Regrettably, we have yet to match their expertise on the subject of dragons, which was derived from their Akaviri origins and is still far superior to our own (which remains largely theoretical). The archives of Cloud Ruler Temple, which is believed to have been the primary repository of the oldest Blades lore, were largely destroyed during the siege, and although great effort has been made to reconstruct what was lost, it now appears that most of the records related to the dragons were either removed or destroyed prior to our attack.
Thus Delphine and any associates remain our best opportunity to learn how and why the dragons have risen. It cannot be ruled out that the Blades themselves are somehow connected to the dragons' return.
I burst out laughing. "They are after her because they think she is behind Alduin?!"
Farkas chuckled. "Seems like it."
"Let's take it to her, right now," I couldn't stop laughing; after everything that had happened and been revealed tonight – this was too much. This was the perfect end to her ridiculous mission. "I want to see the look on her face when she reads it."
"Same," Farkas stood, took the dossier, and strode toward the corner of the room where our packs were nestled together. "Dress warm, and get into your armour," he called out over his shoulder as he stuffed the book deep into his bag. "Got a bit of a ride ahead of us."
My amusement ebbed as I walked toward the dressing screen, unfastening my cape. "Jarl Elisef will be sad that I've left without saying good bye."
"Yeah," Farkas agreed pensively. "I'll miss her too."
With a snort, I threw my cape at him and retreated behind the screen. Maybe I could write to her before we left.
As though the delicate dress had weighed me down, a sense of relief took hold of me when I stepped out of it. This made thought possible, and my mind, now freed, flew to the monumental task of untangling my sister's motives.
"What is Giselle playing at?" I mused out loud.
"Dunno," Farkas grunted in distaste. "I know she's your twin, but I hope we never see her again."
"Hmm," I was unsure of how I felt about that as I tied the straps of my breast binding behind my neck. "In Rorikstead, she begged me to go to Ulfric. Said that he understood why I was Dragonborn. Tonight, she said nothing of that."
"She wanted you to set her free in Rorikstead," Farkas intercepted. "Probably knew that the Thalmor would come for her before she could blab to the Legion about being sent in by them in the first place."
Frowning, I stretched into a thick pair of leggings. That...didn't feel right, but I couldn't articulate why. "You think she went to Ulfric when she was sixteen, under orders from the Thalmor?" I asked.
"Don't think it matters," Farkas eased. "Doubt there'll be any going back to Stormcloak after tonight since the Thalmor have made her involvement public."
I hmphed in agreement, stewing over the riddle. "It will certainly damage their precious Stormcloak morale," I murmured. But perhaps the blow had already been dealt; she had been outed as an imposter when we had both been present at the battle for Whiterun.
Tying the fastenings down the side of my armour, my eyes traced the wood grain of the changing screen as I mulled over what Whiterun had meant for her role in Ulfric's army. "Farkas," I suggested delicately, "maybe she defected?"
Farkas made a doubtful sound.
"No, think about it," I stepped around the screen. "Have you seen my boots?"
"Under the bed. You think she was made to talk and brainwashed or something?" he continued. "Sounded like she was pretty chummy with the Emissaries and that torturer though. That kind of history doesn't just happen in a couple of weeks."
I shrugged as I padded to the bed, crouched down and reached for the brown leather. "For most people, no," I shrugged. "But once Stormcloak's army knew she was a fake, she would have understood they wouldn't rally behind her."
Farkas tilted his head uncertainly. "You think her place depended on her being you?"
Again I shrugged as I sat on the edge of the bed and tugged on a boot. "No. But it seems more likely that she was made to change sides. I can't imagine how she might have become an agent for the Thalmor while she was living at home with us. And when I met with Stormcloak in Windhelm-"
Ulfric, I broke off with a shudder, slipping into the other boot with a sharp tug. What of Ulfric's role in her life?
"What – have you figured it out?" Farkas asked.
"It's nothing," I insisted hastily as I heard him approach. "Remembering."
"You okay?" he was standing beside me.
"Yeah," I couldn't meet his eyes; busied myself with my hair, plaiting swiftly.
I had been on the receiving end of his passion for my sister before I had Fus'd my way out of his arms; he desired her; was vulnerable because of her. Had that died because she could no longer pretend to be me for his army? I doubted it.
After a weighty pause, the bed shifted and Farkas sat beside me, though he had the sense not to elaborate on whatever he was picking up. He shuffled, taking his time to get comfortable; rested his elbows on his knees as he leant forward. I gave him time to organise himself, and his thoughts.
"Why didn't he come for her, then?" he asked finally.
"I don't know," I admitted, loathed to put myself in Ulfric's shoes to find a reason. I glanced to the ceiling; sighed at it when it didn't solve my problems.
He hadn't come for her...because he didn't care for her that much? Because he had to focus on running the Empire out of Skyrim? But – wasn't she critical to his schemes – those plans he had for both of us? He couldn't leave her with the Thalmor if she was important not only to him, but his precious war.
Then perhaps she is where Ulfric told her to be. It didn't explain why she freed the thief, but...perhaps Ondolemar had actually been telling the truth? Perhaps the Stormcloaks made it look like the Thalmor came for her in Rorikstead – which would explain the strange, unnecessary methods employed – and then gave her to them. Perhaps it went back even further – maybe they had planned for her to be caught during the battle so she could demand I be brought to her – after all, hunting me down hadn't worked. Perhaps she had thought her words would weaken me; that I would go to Ulfric, so I might understand what was happening to me.
If this was true – then her sisterly pleas in the prisoner tent had been a trap.
"Maybe she's a spy for the Stormcloaks?" I voiced cautiously.
"Spying on the Thalmor?" Farkas asked through a surprised cough. "They're crazy, Celeste, but are they that crazy?"
"Sure, it's dangerous," I admitted.
"And really stupid. If there's a book on spying-"
"There are several, actually."
"-then the Thalmor probably wrote it."
"You didn't see her with them," I flashed Farkas a sideways glance. "She's...good, Farkas. Whatever it is that she's doing, she's really good at it."
Farkas swore under his breath. "What did she do to you?"
"I'm not absolving her," I snorted.
"No, worse," Farkas shot back. "You're admiring her ability to lie to people."
"Certainly not," I stood, glancing around the bed to see if anything needed packing. "I'm acknowledging her abilities, seeing her for what she is. I keep underestimating her – I don't want to do it again," I picked up a tunic from the floor; it was Hadvar's. I strode to my pack and placed it inside. When would I see him next? In weeks? Months? Longer still? My eyes found my lute seated on a chair close to our backpacks; an elegant, silent observer.
"All this time I have been questioning how my sister could have gained rank with a battle-hardened Jarl old enough to be her father," I knelt by my beloved instrument; more precious to me now than it had ever been, given the journey it had taken, and the hands it had passed through, to return to me.
Did Ulfric and Giselle have even a sliver of what Hadvar and I shared? It was impossible to know, but I highly doubted it, for there would not have been a force large enough to stop me from going to Hadvar if the Thalmor had taken him prisoner.
I spread out the fur it had been wrapped in, then gathered the lute carefully. "Perhaps I have been overthinking their attachment," I murmured.
"You think?" Farkas asked bluntly; still sat on the edge of the bed. "Let's see, I'm a forty-something asshole and the teenage daughter of my enemy's Thane has been dropped onto my lap."
"Maybe he did simply use her at first," I shot him a dark look. "However their relationship started, it means something to both of them now. And he wouldn't trust her as a General if she was just a means to an end," I sighed at the lute, it's form now obscured by its furry padding. "Plus, I'm pretty sure he knows about the whole," I rolled my eyes and waved my hand dismissively. The Septim connection, I couldn't say.
Collecting my lute in my arms, I turned toward my pack.
Farkas approached; wordlessly held my lute in place as I wove leather strips around to secure it. I was grateful as ever that he didn't press me for more information.
"I wish you or Vilkas had been with me, when I'd been with either of them," I clarified.
"So do I," he growled.
I huffed at the double-meaning as I finished my preparations. "Thanks, by the way."
"For what?"
I shot him a look. "For helping me work through this," I stood, surveying my handiwork. It seemed secure, but only time would tell. I had never needed a travelling case for my lute before, as I'd been in no rush to leave Solitude. But maybe I could look into having a proper case commissioned. For now, this would do, otherwise I wouldn't be able to take it with us.
Farkas said nothing but his cheeks pinked as he collected our packs, effortlessly throwing one each over his enormous shoulders.
"Don't hurt it-!" I chirped, reaching out in panic.
"Hey, easy," Farkas laughed, craning to look over his shoulder; checking for himself. "Your baby will always be safe with me. Kind of looking forward to hearing you play it sometime," he grinned.
The thud in my chest slowed and I lowered my hands. Baby? Okay, that was fair. "Every day," I smiled.
"Yeah, I heard," he rumbled fondly.
We did a final sweep of the room then descended to the bar. The inn had grown quieter; the hour was late, and Lisette had wrapped up for the night, so only the dull rumble of late-night conversation and the crackle of the fireplace was there to greet us.
We sat at one of the dining tables and he continued his letter to his brother while I wrote to Jarl Elisef, apologising for my hasty departure. She had seen Giselle at the party, and there was no point in pretending that she had nothing to do with my leaving. So I confided in Jarl Elisef, aware that the note would probably pass through many hands before it reached hers.
Seeing my sister has raised doubts within me, and I must speak to my mentors at Hrothgar before I can continue along my path.
I flickered a glance Farkas' way; he was leant over his letter with a look of concentration on his face and a hand tangled in his hair; his quill scritching against the parchment.
With a small, endearing smile, I continued.
Farkas and I will both miss your kindness and company. Send a courier to Ivarstead and ask for Klimmek, should you have need of me. He brings supplies and the mail to Hrothgar once a week.
Signing it off, I folded the note carefully. Hadvar had my family's ring so I sealed it with a blob of wax and flattened that with the end of a nearby mead bottle.
"Ready?" Farkas sat back, grimacing at his own work.
I nodded. "You want to seal yours? Corpulus will be arranging a courier for me anyway."
"Not finished." Farkas shook his head. "Letters are hard."
"Letters to Vilkas are hard," I corrected with an arch and a smile, remembering how long it had taken me to finish my own letter to him. "Can we still stop by Whiterun before we make the climb?" I reminded him gently. "That was always our plan."
"Sure," Farkas half shrugged, swinging his pack around and stuffing his letter within. "Maybe I'll just hand it to him, like you did with yours. But first," he grinned – and left it at that.
I returned his grin. Let's go prove to Delphine that she was wrong.
