Summary: The escape plan worked and the two Jarls are back in friendly territory, to much celebration from the gathering Stormcloak forces. However, when the operation's loose end comes to light as news of Cicero's fate arrives, the mood turns solemn, and the consequences for both Tyr and Liriel both could be dire.
A/N: I'm posting this as a distraction from the current dramas in my own homeland, involving one of the more nervewracking elections since... well, the last one. So here's an update from the more sane and functional politics of AU Skyrim.
If anyone finds blocks of caps lock text unnerving, there's a section where Madanach basically shouts abuse at Tyr for five minutes solid. Something about taking a minor on a mission without telling him, and said minor ending up in captivity...
As for the escaping Jarls, their path to freedom had been rather smoother. They'd fled down the coast, to an inlet haunted by smugglers, and down there had been a rowing boat crewed by one hooded, taciturn Nord in his twenties with piercing green eyes but not a lot to say for himself until they hit open water. Then they'd found out his name was Tyr.
"He's an old colleague of mine from Cyrodiil," Delphine explained. "And… he did plan this entire thing out and forge all the documents involved. He was going to be infiltrating the guards but things didn't work out that way."
"You're welcome," Tyr said, nodding his head, and the accent marked him immediately as Cyrodiilic – mostly.
"Do I detect a little Eastmarch in that accent?" Hoag asked, listening intently and Tyr did have to admit he might have grown up in Kynesgrove.
"Left years ago though," Tyr said, focusing a little too much on his rowing. "Joined the Legion to get away from my father. Ended up in the Blades. And after my order got made illegal, I fled north to the Reach. It was my plan to blend in with the Stormcloaks but… well… that didn't quite go as planned."
"His elven war comrade and this little Imperial scamp called Cicero caught up to him first," Delphine said, sleepily cuddled up to Hoag. She'd claim it was to keep warm but Hoag knew better. "Now the elf is Ulfric's court mage and Tyr's serving as her housecarl."
"High Elves aren't exactly popular in these parts," Tyr said, definitely not looking comfortable with this topic of conversation. "We all thought it might be best if she had someone to watch her back."
"So who's watching it now if you're here," Balgruuf asked, seeing no elf on board this boat.
"She's with Ulfric himself, she'll be fine," Tyr said tersely. "She's the chief fixer of injuries after brawls and battles both, the soldiers can't afford to piss her off and they know it. Now, enough talk about her. We're nearing Dawnstar. Which if all is well, is where we're meeting Ulfric. He's been worried sick since we heard the news."
"And he got his husband to organise all this," Balgruuf said, glancing out at the shoreline. Despite this stretch of coast being barren and uninhabited, every so often he'd see a fire. Army camps, he was sure. Hard to believe it was Reachmen this far north, but if it was Nords, that might be worse. Because that would mean war.
"King Madanach didn't need a lot of convincing, you two are the Jarls he actually likes," Tyr said, smiling a little at that. "But you should know your arrests sparked unrest across half the country. And Ulfric's been capitalising on that. We're on the verge of civil war, if we're not already in it. Ulfric's taken over as Jarl of Eastmarch in your absence and he's declared independence from the Empire. No going back now."
"Don't worry, we can get him to give Eastmarch back to you," Delphine said, apparently unbothered by all this. "But you might be stuck with independence from the Empire now."
Hoag bowed his head, part of him still hoping it might not come to this… but Istlod saw him as a traitor now. Ulfric's furious reaction was entirely expected and Hoag didn't blame him. Still, if rebellion there had to be, it would be better for everyone if it wasn't being led by an angry and vengeful Ulfric.
"And Whiterun?" Balgruuf asked, dreading the answer to this one. It was right in the centre, easy to besiege and the walls were falling apart. If anyone had attacked…
"Your brother is acting Jarl, Vignar Grey-Mane's his new Thane and one of his chief advisors, and Irileth is looking after everything well enough. For now, at least. But we should get you back there. The Hold hasn't formally declared for either side yet, although there was a statement of protest at your arrest. I don't think Hrongar wrote it, but it's well written. Seems to imply Istlod's out of his mind and had no right to arrest you as you were only in the Reach as a neutral observer."
"Sounds like Avenicci," Balgruuf said, approving. All the same, it sounded like the Hold needed him. His brother almost certainly did. Hrongar was barely of age and already shaping up into a headstrong man of opinions… but he was still mourning their father and couldn't possibly be coping well with leadership responsibility. Not to mention all the arguing. Avenicci and Irileth were bad enough. Add in Grey-Mane as well, and quite possibly the Battle-Borns? It didn't bear thinking about.
Dawnstar came into view, the rising sun silhouetting the Tower of the Dawn on the far cliff, and the sheer number of ships, both Eastmarch's own fleet and commandeered Imperial ones, all now with the blue and white bear's head of Eastmarch all over them, confirmed everyone's fears. Ulfric Stormcloak was building an army… and a navy too.
One of the boats hailed them, and on Tyr answering with the news he had the Jarls, a mighty cheer went up, and soon they had an escort as the sleepy fishing village sprang to life. One of the ships threw down a ladder, allowing them all to climb aboard, and one of the sailors took charge of the boat, relieving Tyr. Then it was crossing the decks of three different ships before finally making land, and then Stormcloak soldiers formed a guard of honour escorting them to the Jarl's longhouse.
Word had got ahead of them, and Jarl Skald was there to shake the two Jarls by the hand and congratulate them on a daring escape from the Empire's clutches, and it soon became obvious he'd sided with Ulfric wholeheartedly.
Then a High Elf in College robes emerged from a side room and promptly hugged Tyr, presumably Ulfric's court mage pleased to see her housecarl back. And then the room went silent as a door upstairs opened and Ulfric Stormcloak himself emerged, the bearskin armour he usually favoured exchanged for the more ceremonial Stormlord armour befitting the Jarl of Eastmarch – plate armour with a blue tabard on top of it, designed to scream 'I am the Jarl' at any who saw it.
Hoag tightened his grip on Delphine, suddenly by no means certain Ulfric actually was going to hand power back, because it looked like he'd taken to it all too quickly.
Ulfric stared down at him from the balcony, not seeming to believe his eyes.
"Father," he gasped. "You – you're alive. It worked!"
Hoag nodded, feeling the tension start to ease a little, because Ulfric had clearly at least been aware that a jailbreak plan was in the works even if he'd not been involved. And fear turned to concern for his son as Ulfric's face crumpled and then he was turning and practically running down the stairs… and then Delphine had stepped away to let Ulfric sweep his father into his arms.
"I feared you lost to me," Ulfric gasped, and Hoag realised the son who normally suppressed every emotion but anger was crying. Crying tears of joy and relief, and Hoag could only take his boy in his arms and rub his back.
"I'm here, lad," Hoag said roughly. "I'm here. Delphine rescued me."
"I couldn't have done it alone," Delphine sad, nodding at Tyr and Liriel. "It was a joint effort. Hate to say it, but Eastmarch owes the Reachmen for this, King Madanach was the one who pulled the team together and sponsored this."
Ulfric tightened his grip on his father then let him go, still wiping the tears away.
"I am forever in his debt," Ulfric said softly. "Father, I fear I have to marry him now, I see no other way of repaying him."
Hoag smiled and patted his son's back.
"I'm sure you're the reason he did it in the first place, lad. Accept it as the lover's gift it was and leave the matters of debts, favours and politics to me. Speaking of which, as I'm not dead yet..."
Hoag indicated the Stormlord gear and Ulfric at least had the grace to look a little awkward at this.
"I had no way of knowing if we'd ever see you again. I took the Jarldom to prevent Istlod installing one… and to ensure my orders were followed. But… now you're restored to us… yes. Eastmarch is yours, father. I'll make sure you have something suitable to wear after you're rested and have the troops here swear their oaths back to you. Only..."
"You declared independence from the Empire and you're supporting free Talos worship in all lands that join the cause, aren't you?" Hoag sighed, and Ulfric nodded sheepishly.
"What was I to do?" Ulfric protested. "Istlod had you prisoner and for what? Supporting your kin? We were at war with those elven bastards a year ago, and now look at Istlod. Listening to their poison and imprisoning his own Jarls! I won't have it, father."
Hoag glanced at Balgruuf, then at Delphine, both of whom nodded and then Hoag placed both hands on his son's shoulders and said words Ulfric had needed to hear for years.
"Ulfric, my son. You did well. Thank you. Balgruuf, what do you think of Istlod?"
"The man's lost it," Balgruuf said, shaking his head. "He's as paranoid as he is unreasonable. A shame. He used to be a good man and a respected ruler. As it is – Talos worship or no, Empire or no, I'm done with him. I have a Hold to get back to and organise, but after that, we work together and get Istlod out of office, and call a Moot. Skyrim needs a new High King. And… if King Madanach's willing to lend troops and if he holds good on his promise to wed Ulfric, I could work with him. A new King would have his work cut out with the Empire, we can't waste resources and men on fighting the Reachmen."
Ulfric's eyes widened as he turned to his father, realising he could actually get what he wanted, and Hoag smiled, putting an arm round his son and feeling his own heart swell at the thought of Ulfric actually being happy.
"Well, can't say I'm exactly pleased at working with the blasted witchmen but at least they're not the damn elves," Skald was saying to Balgruuf. "They're really allowing Talos worship?"
"They have a shrine and everything," Balgruuf told him. "Apparently he manifested in the middle of Markarth, apologised for past offences and promised to protect the Reach if they protected his worshippers. I don't know about that but the Reachmen are keeping their word and praising him as the Rhan-Dionach, protector of the Reach. I think we should give them a chance."
"Madanach'll need to come to the Moot then," Skald said, folding his arms. "The rest of us are going to want to meet him."
"I think that can be arranged," Balgruuf promised. "If we hold the Moot in Whiterun, he shouldn't have any trouble getting there at least. I imagine we won't get the chance to hold it in Solitude."
"I imagine not," Skald said, and if he had suspicions about Balgruuf's motives in volunteering to hold the Moot in his own city, he kept them to himself. Dawnstar wasn't up to the job after all.
And then the door burst open again, and a squad of Stormcloak soldiers accompanied two more people in. Not guests this time – just arrested prisoners from the look of it.
"This man's got a letter from a mother who doesn't exist inviting him here," one of the guards said. "And the woman's an Imperial Legion officer as of a few days ago. Some of our number recognised her from the war. She served with Jarl Ulfric."
"Thane Ulfric," Ulfric said, patting his father's back. "With my father's safe return, Eastmarch has no need of me now. I don't know this man. But I know Rikke. It's good to see you, Shield-Sister. Have you come to join us after all?"
Rikke's expression softened a little, as if she was struggling with her emotions and wanting to smile but something else was stopping her. But duty won out and she shook her head.
"Your little operation in Solitude had consequences, Ulfric. And I'm surprised you don't know this man, he's one of the agents involved."
"We've not had the honour of meeting in person, but I've heard plenty about the mighty Ulfric Stormcloak," the man next to her in what looked suspiciously like Thieves Guild armour said, and that was a Riften accent and no mistake. "Brynjolf's the name, sir, and I was working with Delphine and Tyr as your inside man in Solitude."
Ulfric turned to them for confirmation of this, and Delphine nodded.
"He was working with us, yes. Good to see you made it, Brynjolf. Although bringing Quaestor Rikke with you wasn't part of the plan."
"No," Brynjolf said, lowering his eyes and shuffling his feet awkwardly, even as the guards released him. "It wasn't the only thing that went wrong. I got away… but Cicero didn't. The lad's on a Thalmor watch list. They seem to think he knows something about some Blades agents and a kidnapped Justiciar's daughter."
His eyes shot to Liriel as he spoke, who'd gone pale and put a hand to her mouth, instinctively reaching out to Tyr before her legs gave way entirely. Tyr didn't look a lot better, in fact the guilt in his eyes was worse.
"Let me guess, you're the Justiciar's daughter and it's not remotely a kidnapping, is it?" Rikke snapped, glaring at them both. "Well, the Thalmor are going to learn that soon enough, I imagine. They arrested Cicero, who by the way confessed to Talos-worship and joining the Stormcloaks on arrest. That poor boy's going to suffer Ni- Eight know what before he ends up telling them everything he knows. Legate Cassia sent me to tell you. She couldn't stop them arresting him but she could get word to people who care about him. Am I right in thinking that applies to you?"
Tyr nodded mutely, even as murmuring and panic started to rise and Skald could be heard demanding exactly how long they had before the Empire turned up, even as Ulfric and the Jarls began to argue over troop placements and what exactly did Cicero know about that anyway.
"Not a lot," Liriel whispered, wiping the tears away. "And we told him to get himself to this Reachman redoubt near Dragon Bridge. But he knows we're in Dawnstar. And… he knows I defected. He knows I killed other Thalmor. And… he knows what I did during the war. Tyr, if he tells them that..."
Liriel would literally never be able to go home again, and while she knew she wasn't going back for a long time, having the Dominion suspect her loyalties was a very different thing from them knowing she was a traitor who'd cost them the war.
"I won't let them hurt you," Tyr said fiercely, hand on her cheek without fully realising he was doing it.
"Fifty years from now, you won't be able to stop them," Liriel snapped, breaking away. "Look, we don't have a choice. Get one of the Stormcloaks to hit me, then tie my hands and deliver me to the Embassy. Tell them you'll ransom me for Cicero. Don't worry about me. I just won't say anything. Let them think I'm too traumatised to talk. I'll take years in a sanatorium for Cicero's life."
"NO!" Tyr half-screamed, half-sobbed. "Liriel no, you can't do this, I won't let you!"
"We. Don't. Have. A. Choice!" Liriel shouted back at him. "You let Cicero risk himself even though we both thought it was a bad idea! Now they've taken him prisoner, you can't do the same for me?"
"No," Tyr gasped, shaking his head, hands covering his face. "No, I can't, it's not the same. Liriel, please, I love you!"
Silence as an entire hall was listening in on this one even though many of them had rather more urgent things to talk about, but romantic arguments had a way of derailing things. Liriel was staring at Tyr, looking like she was about to cry again.
"You tell me this now?" she gasped. "With Cicero's life on the line, and likely mine too, you choose now, now, to tell me you're interested? I – Tyr, I can't..."
Liriel turned away, ability to cope worn down by all of it, and Tyr reached after her helplessly, but to no avail… and then everyone stopped as they heard one word from Ulfric's lips.
"Danach."
He'd reached into a satchel at his belt and pulled out what looked like a soul gem entwined in Reach briars, with the whole thing set in Dwemer bronze so it could be held without the thorns drawing blood. The gem was glowing as Ulfric spoke his lover's name.
"Danach, wake up! I need you!"
The gem's colour changed from red to a more reassuring purple, and then the Reach-King's voice could be heard, husky rasp echoing round the hall.
"Good morning, my sexy beast, have you missed me?"
Ulfric's face flamed red as he studiously avoided everyone's eyes.
"Danach, not now, you're on the hands free speaker setting, the whole of Jarl Skald's hall, including my father, can hear you."
"I'm on..." Awkward coughing, and when Madanach spoke again, his entire tone of voice had shifted from lascivious purr to a more brusque, formal manner. "Right. Yes. Of course. Did you say your da was there? Does that mean Operation Eagle's Nest worked?"
"Yes," Ulfric said, smiling at that at least. "Yes, it worked, they got my father back and Jarl Balgruuf too, thank you, thank you so much but… Danach, there's a problem."
"What sort of problem," Madanach said, clearly not pleased. "We got the Jarls back, right? That was our primary objective, yes? Were there casualties? Or… is that thief demanding more money or he talks to the Empire?"
Brynjolf yelped at the mere suggestion he'd extort a bigger fee via blackmail, and Ulfric promised that wasn't the case, grinning as Galmar and a few of the more intimidating Stormcloaks all surrounded Brynjolf, Galmar being quite vocal about Brynjolf's head ending up on a pike if he so much as went near any Imperial officers.
"No, it's not the thief," Ulfric said, sombre as he recalled the reason he'd called, and that Madanach was fond of Cicero, and so were at least two of Madanach's kids. "But one of our agents got caught. By the Thalmor. Danach, I know you've got people in and near Haafingar, and I hate to ask it of you, but please, can you raid the Embassy and get him? Before… before they hurt him. Or worse. Or he tells them something. Please, Danach, our only other option is ransoming Liriel in his place, and I don't want to lose her! She's valuable!"
Madanach could be heard hissing under his breath, and then sighing.
"Look, Ulfric, I know Tyr's a skilled agent and an asset but he knew the risks. I do have people out there but an operation on the Embassy's not something I can just pull off! This is the Thalmor fucking Embassy we're talking about here! There are a lot of very powerful mages in that place, it takes time, planning, resources, it's a major operation and the Reach can't go it alone, we need the Nords with us if we're going to move against Dominion assets openly. Tyr can hold out for a few weeks, right?"
"It's not Tyr, it's Cicero!" Liriel cried, loud enough to be heard and Madanach caught every word. A few moments silence and then…
"What."
A huge amount of meaning in one single word, and Ulfric began to realise that certain agents might have kept certain decisions from the Reach-King and certain agents were about to wish it was them in the Thalmor dungeons, because Madanach's wrath was definitely not an improvement.
"They captured Cicero," Ulfric repeated. "He was the other inside… person. I don't think he was involved in the jailbreak itself but it appears he was in the city in some manner of support role and got unmasked."
More silence and when Madanach spoke again, he'd gone from a Reachman's attempt at nobility and professionalism to something altogether darker and far more true to his real self, a tone of voice you'd expect from the Witch-King of Markarth.
"Get that Nord over here right now."
No need to ask which Nord he meant, and Tyr approached the glowing crystal, looking surprisingly composed for a man about to be verbally, and if he was unlucky, physically, eviscerated by the Reach-King.
"Sir," Tyr said evenly, not entirely sure he should say anything else or try and justify himself, because that likely wouldn't matter. He wasn't wrong.
"Am I to understand that young Cicero, underage citizen of the Reach and a boy in your care, a boy who, resourceful and brave though he may be, has had no formal espionage or military training and was until a few years ago just an ordinary kid living with his mother and who is, let me remind you of this, FIFTEEN YEARS OLD, is now in Thalmor custody due to taking part in a dangerous and high security covert operation organised by yourself?"
"Yes," Tyr said, closing his eyes and wondering if this thing just conducted Madanach's voice or if he could channel his magic down it too, because if it was the latter, his life expectancy could probably be counted in minutes.
"And that despite him being a minor, you not only authorised his participation, you completely failed to inform me or anyone in my court about this? And not only that, when I asked if you needed me to look after Cicero while you were away, you said you had it covered, allowing me to believe he was in Dawnstar with Liriel."
"… Yes," Tyr admitted, because when it was put like this, it sounded really really bad. "Sir, we had no one else and he volunteered. When you asked me to carry out this job, you gave me leave to pick whatever personnel I needed..."
"HE'S FIFTEEN FUCKING YEARS OLD, YOU ADMOR SON OF A BITCH!" Madanach roared down the soul gem at him. "UNDER REACH LAW AND UNDER MOST OTHER LEGAL JURISDICTIONS, THERE ARE MANY MANY FUCKING THINGS MINORS AREN'T LEGALLY ALLOWED TO DO OR CONSENT TO, AND GOING ON DANGEROUS AND POTENTIALLY LIFE THREATENING HIGH RISK ESPIONAGE MISSIONS IS ONE OF THEM, YOU FUCKING HALFWIT. YOU NEEDED PERSONNEL, YOU SHOULD HAVE COME TO ME, NEPOS COULD HAVE FOUND YOU SOMEONE. YOU TELL CICERO HE'S NOT GOING, AND IF YOU THINK HE'S GOING TO FOLLOW YOU ANYWAY, YOU LEAVE HIM WITH ME AND I WILL HAVE HALF THE REACHGUARD SITTING ON HIM TO PHYSICALLY PREVENT HIM LEAVING IF I NEED TO. YOU'RE NOT IN THE BLADES NOW, YOU ANSWER TO ME IF YOU WANT TO STAY IN THE REACH, AND THAT MEANS YOU ACTUALLY HAVE TO OPERATE UNDER REACH LAW IF NOTHING ELSE FOR ONCE IN YOUR DAEDRA-DAMN LIFE!"
Silence as Madanach took a deep breath, even he not being able to rant at someone with stopping to breathe at least a bit. Tyr said nothing, acknowledging every word as true even as he realised he'd got too used to operating on his own, with the Blades giving him objectives and expecting him to achieve them come what may, by any means necessary. He'd never once stopped to think that perhaps, just perhaps, Madanach might see things differently… or that the Mournful Throne as an institution did actually care about the rule of law and individual lives of its citizens over the greater good – or at least balanced the two.
"My sister has people in the area, scouting it out, she might even be there herself," Madanach finally said, voice still shaking but calmer now the initial rage had subsided. "She might be able to help, but this will be costly, in lives, resources, politically… I wasn't going to go for the Embassy, I was going to wait until the Nords had settled things then work with the new High King, but you have left me no fucking choice but to risk war with the Dominion, and my entire kingdom if the politics don't work out in Skyrim. You realise every drop of Reachman blood shed over this is coming out of your hide, don't you."
"I know," Tyr said softly. "I understand. Thank you, sir."
Better his life than Liriel's. Better his than Cicero's. Better him getting executed, or more likely, having his heart ripped out by one of the Hags because what use was he dead when he could fight as a superhuman mind-controlled zombie.
"Let me patch Keirine in, hang on," Madanach sighed. The gem starting flashing on and off, then blue, then red then…
"Keirine, are you there?"
A pause and then a woman spoke, and if Madanach had sounded like the Wrath of Sithis, this woman's voice was a low, gravelly rasp that sounded like the very Void itself.
"Brother. It's early for you to be calling. No matter, I was about to call Nepos anyway. We've had an interesting development, but it can wait. Let's hear it."
"Keir, I need the Thalmor Embassy raiding," Madanach said quietly. "What do you have available? Give me everything you have and I mean everything. Crack the Void itself open if you need to."
"Crack the – brother, I've told you before, conjuration does not work like that, I can't just break Oblivion and summon a horde of Dremora on command," Keirine sighed irritably. "Things would be very different if I could, believe me. And you know full well I don't have the soldiers for an attack on that place. Send me reinforcements or bring the Nords and we'll talk."
A hiss from Madanach which betrayed the fact that his forces might just be committed and that he in no way had reinforcements for this without leaving somewhere else important defenceless.
"I don't need it razing, Keirine, I just need it raiding, do you think an in-out break-in is possible? One of our people is a prisoner, I just need him out of there. Please?"
A pause and when Keirine spoke, it was with no little amusement in her voice.
"You want young Cicero breaking out, don't you."
"Yes. Wait. How in Oblivion did you know about that, word literally just came in."
"Because he's here, brother," Keirine said smugly. "I'd noticed a cave behind the Embassy on a routine reconnaissance flyover that positively reeked of human remains. Sure enough it turned out to have a tunnel leading to what I strongly suspected was their dungeon. Of course, it is also home to trolls who dispose of the corpses that the Thalmor are throwing their way. I'd sent a party to deal with the trolls and secure the cave. I thought it might be useful. I did not expect them to return with young Cicero. He managed to escape, with the aid of the other prisoner. Apparently she'd been prepared to sacrifice her own life to protect others on the outside, but when the prisoner next door turns out to be a teenager crying for his mother, she decided protecting him was more important. They broke themselves out and had the good fortune to run into us. I have them both here. That was why I needed Nepos, I need to get them to Markarth. The woman needs medical treatment and somewhere to recuperate that isn't a field redoubt. And Cicero needs to go home and be fussed over. Your children are fond of him, aren't they. Persuade some of them to tell him how brave and heroic he is."
"Happy to," Madanach said gruffly, sounding more than a little bit emotional, and in the hall, Liriel had actually cried out, tears rolling down her cheeks as she realised Cicero was fine and she wasn't going to have to sacrifice her freedom just yet. She wasn't the only one – the tension in the hall had dissipated as several dozen Nords all finally let themselves relax, hugs being exchanged and laughter being allowed out, and Ulfric was wiping a tear away even as he grinned at Delphine and Galmar. Despite not being known for emotional openness, Delphine had got fond of Cicero and was openly cuddling Hoag with a smile, and Galmar had always had a lot of time for the boy, fussing over him like he was a beloved nephew and putting up with much that no one else would have got away with. Galmar was embracing his fellow Stormcloaks and proudly telling them that of course Cicero got away, nothing was keeping that boy down, and Talos was clearly looking out for him.
"Do you still need the Embassy raiding," Keirine purred, correctly guessing perhaps the elves could wait and Madanach laughed at that.
"No, no, they'll keep. Just keep an eye on them, and listen out for Aldmeri howls of rage when they realise their prisoners have vanished like thieves in the night. Let them think we did it. It'll make them think twice about attacking us. Oh, and if you can persuade the local spirits to make the Ambassador hear smug Reachman laughter in her dreams for the next few weeks, that'll just make it perfect."
Keirine did actually cackle at that.
"Perhaps! Although I think her own mind might do that for her. But before that, I have two ex-prisoners to smuggle back to Markarth. Can I speak to Nepos? I'll require a little assistance."
"It will be done," Madanach promised. "Patching you through."
A few more flashes from the gem, and then Madanach was speaking to Tyr again, brotherly warmth gone as the Reach-King returned.
"All right, Nord. It appears I won't need to sacrifice you to the old gods on this occasion. But you were extremely fucking fortunate, because your terrible fucking decision-making could have cost us everything, starting with me having to tell Amaleen she might never see Cicero again, and ending with the Dominion sacking Markarth."
"Yes sir. I understand, sir," Tyr said, deciding that protesting was not going to do him any favours. It wasn't like his own mind wasn't going to be punishing him over this for weeks to come, was it.
"Do you," Madanach growled. "Because I think that if Cicero stays with you, he's just going to volunteer next time there's a dangerous mission, and this is not happening again, I can fucking tell you. So once he's back in Markarth, he's staying there. I'm officially taking him into care and making him a ward of court until he comes of age, and if he's still intent on joining the spying game, it'll be Nepos handling his training. Am I clear on this?"
"Yes sir- what?" He'd not seen that coming, and nor had Liriel.
"You can't just take him into care, we're all he's got!" Liriel cried, horrified.
"I can in fact do exactly that, Liriel, and I notice you not only didn't talk Tyr out of sending Cicero in, you didn't report it to me either," Madanach said tersely. "I've got a lot of time for you, but by the gods, your parenting skills need work. For your information, Nepos and I worked out Cicero's age in elven terms and he's the equivalent of about forty seven by your standards. You go and have a long hard think about if you'd send an Altmer forty something anywhere near that sort of operation."
Liriel stopped and considered that, and then turned on Tyr.
"I told you he shouldn't have been involved," Liriel said bitterly. "Gods, Tyr, he's practically a baby! And Madanach's right, if we keep him, he's just going to want to come on the next one. He's safer in Markarth, and if we visit regularly and if Nepos really does agree to arrange training for him, that should stop him objecting too much."
Tyr sincerely hoped it would, although he also suspected this whole escapade had probably more than satisfied Cicero's taste for adventure for now. With any luck, he'd learn a few things from this. He hoped.
"All right, sir. We agree. Was there anything else?"
"Yes. Turns out I'm going to need a healer with experience in treating Thalmor torture victims. Ulfric, cariad, I think I'm going to need to borrow your court mage. Can I have Liriel back here? I suppose Tyr can come as well, gods know I need to pay him after all this. I can send Delphine's share to Windhelm, right? And our Riften friend?"
"Was going to head back to Riften, but I can stay in Windhelm for a bit," Brynjolf said thoughtfully. "Don't really want to ruin Delphine's cover, do I."
Ulfric's face said everything about what he thought about having Brynjolf staying in his city for an extended period of time, but mercifully Delphine intervened.
"If you're going north, I've got a better idea. The Nightingale was off to Winterhold. Why not head there and join her? She could surely use a hand and she knows you."
Brynjolf agreed to this, and Ulfric was more than happy for a known thief, even one who'd helped rescue his father, to be off somewhere else.
"It so happens Winterhold was my next port of call. My aunt is the Jarl but she's yet to respond to our calls for aid. I was going in person to find out why. Come with my entourage then meet your accomplice. But be warned. Steal anything while you're there and the consequences are yours alone to face."
"I will be discretion itself," Brynjolf promised. "You will hardly know I'm there, sir."
Which was not remotely a promise not to steal anything, but Ulfric decided that if Aunt Fura's guards caught him and shot him, or if he tried to steal from the mages and ended up being sucked into a portal to Oblivion, it would hardly be his fault and would in fact tie up a number of loose ends, so he could live with it. So he turned his attention back to his lover instead.
"Thank you, Danach," Ulfric told him, meaning every word. "Maybe Talos is watching over us all in this, but you are the one I owe my gratitude to most. You know I love you, but for saving my father, again, anything I have the power to give you is yours. Name it, and you shall have it."
And for once, the King of the Reach was rendered nervous and tongue-tied, awkwardly shuffling at the other end of the Reach's nascent communications network, never feeling quite able to match Ulfric for sheer poetry of language and missing him more than ever.
"Come home soon," Madanach said softly. "When you're done in Winterhold, come home. It's too quiet without you. It's got to the point I'm considering actually encouraging the kids to run around screaming."
Ulfric did laugh at that, and promised he'd send word. And with that, Madanach was gone, the gem's light switching off and Ulfric pocketing it.
"Gem's nearly out," Ulfric said ruefully, patting his satchel. "Good thing I'm going to Winterhold really. Father, stop looking at me like that. I am told no human sacrifices have been necessary to get this working."
"No, no, I… am just surprised the Reachmen have come up with something like that on their own," Hoag said, knowing the Legion had something similar, as did the Dominion in their own lands, but that it was also said to be costly enough that it could only be used sparingly and that the orbs weren't portable. He'd not expected Madanach to have created one you could carry, still less that Ulfric would be willingly carrying it around everywhere so he could talk to his lover.
"It's useful," Balgruuf noted. "I could do with something like that. Whole of Skyrim could."
Ulfric narrowed his eyes, frowning at the Jarl of Whiterun, but also knowing that if Balgruuf ended up as High King, he couldn't afford to alienate him either.
"The Reach-King can be generous to his friends," Ulfric told him. "Swear friendship to the Mournful Throne and the Reach's Far-Speaking Web could extend to your lands too."
There were already relay beacons across Balgruuf's Hold, all in the ancient Nordic ruins in the Skyborn mountains where rumours of ghosts and Draugr kept travellers away, but Balgruuf didn't need to know that. He didn't need to know about Labyrinthian Redoubt either. Not yet anyway. After a treaty had been signed, perhaps.
Which just left one thing to tie up. Possibly literally. Rikke was still here, and while Brynjolf had left to get some sleep, the guards on her were still awaiting orders, and Galmar had taken over questioning.
"So, you haven't had a change of heart about the corrupt bureaucracy you swore your loyalty to then," Galmar was saying, attempted to sound light-hearted.
"I swore an oath, Galmar!" Rikke snapped. "A Nord doesn't break her word just because things are difficult!"
"No one's required to keep an oath if the other side breaks it," Ulfric said, coming to join his housecarl. "You know that, Rikke."
"Talos-worship isn't worth ripping Tamriel apart over!" Rikke cried. "Talos wouldn't want us to destroy his Empire, his legacy, just over his name!"
"Talos appeared and gave the Reach-King a personal thank you for allowing free worship and protecting his worshippers!" Galmar shouted, losing his temper. "Many of us saw it! Don't tell us we're in the wrong here!"
"You're in open rebellion and ripping the country apart!" Rikke sighed. "I can't sign up for this, Galmar, I can't."
Galmar growled in frustration and turned to Ulfric.
"What do we do, Ulfric. We can't just let her go, she knows too much now. The Bell-Siaragwe alone is too sensitive for the Empire to know about, never mind the rest. And yet I don't want to execute her either. She's done nothing wrong, and she risked her life to make sure we knew about Cicero."
Ulfric didn't know either, and then it occurred to him he didn't have to. His father was back now. He was Jarl of Eastmarch again. He could make the decision.
"Father, what do we do," Ulfric asked. "I would fight her in battle if I had to, but I can't… we fought together the entire war! She and I were Shield-Siblings! I even… I even considered asking her to marry me. I knew I'd need to marry someone and I respected her military prowess. It wasn't love but I think I could have been happy enough."
Rikke had lowered her eyes, saying nothing to this, and Hoag just patted his son's arm sadly.
"But you know love now, don't you."
Ulfric nodded, remembering Madanach in his arms, both writhing beneath him pleading for Ulfric's touch and bending him over with his fingers entwined in Ulfric's hair and hissing filth into his ear, and now he'd had it, Ulfric could imagine nothing and no one else, not now.
"Yes," Ulfric said softly. "But that doesn't mean I would see her harmed if there's another way."
Hoag nodded and patted his back, seeming to understand, and then he turned to Rikke.
"Well now, lass, being a prisoner of war is no easy thing, and yet here you are volunteering for it. I trust you know we can't exactly send you back to Solitude."
"I know, sir," Rikke said, voice remarkably steady under the circumstances. "I know you're an honourable man, Jarl Hoag. For the record, you deserved better from Istlod."
"Aye," was all Hoag was prepared to say about that. "Well. You need have no fear of harsh treatment from us. You're coming back to Windhelm under guard, and then you'll be imprisoned until such time as we reach a peace accord with the Empire. Should a new High King be chosen, he'll decide your fate but it's likely to be ransom rather than execution. Unless you change your mind about joining us, of course."
"I swore an oath, sir," Rikke said quietly. "I'm the Legion's for as long as there is one."
"You might live to see that oath expire, the way things are going," Hoag said, not without sympathy. "Take her away, men. Keep watch on her, female guards if possible and get her anything she needs. She's not a criminal. I don't want to hear of any abuse or harsh treatment, understand?"
"Thank you," Ulfric said quietly as Rikke was led away. "I know now I don't want her as my wife and truth be told, I think we are both happier this way. But that doesn't mean I don't care for her. She's one of the finest warriors I know."
"I know, lad," Hoag said gently. "I'll make sure she's treated well."
Ulfric knew and yet it still tore at him to see Rikke prisoner for nothing more than doing the honourable thing. She deserved so much better.
Perhaps she'd reconsider. Most likely she wouldn't. If they won, who knew. She might resign herself to the inevitable and join up, or maybe they'd send her back to the Legion eventually. Or she might decide she'd had enough and settle down somewhere to run a farm or an inn.
Ulfric liked that idea. He really liked the idea of Rikke setting up a tavern in some village or other, and being able to drop in with Galmar and talk about old times. Maybe he'd bring the kids when they were older. He had a feeling Rikke would get on with Eithne.
He hoped it happened for her. He had a feeling her own stubbornness would stop it though, and the chance was slim. But it might happen. One day.
Someone feeling rather less optimistic was Tyr, who'd returned to his bedroom to find Liriel already packing. They were sharing quarters due to space being at a premium, and there not being many others trusted enough to share with an ex-Thalmor, even the one who regrew teeth and fixed noses. There was a wooden screen down the middle of the room to provide a bit of privacy, but honestly, they did well enough together and Tyr had liked just being near her. He had a feeling she didn't feel the same way he did, but it didn't matter. It meant he could talk to her and maybe dream one day she'd kick the screen down and come join him. That hadn't happened, but there'd been a few late-night conversations where she'd dropped round and just sat next to the bed to talk. He'd treasured those dearly.
He had a feeling those would be the first thing to stop.
"You know we're likely not leaving until tomorrow, don't you," Tyr said, attempting to sound casual. Balgruuf was leaving for Whiterun in the morning, and he'd agreed they could come with him. From there, it wasn't so far to the Reach's border.
Liriel flinched as she heard him speak, and Tyr could feel his heart sinking as he realised he'd quite possibly ruined everything.
"I was thinking of leaving today instead," Liriel said softly. "I've got papers, a horse, I can ride, I've got my magic. I don't need an armed escort."
The hell she didn't, anti-Thalmor sentiment was through the roof of late. Travelling with Ulfric's soldiers, she was fine but alone? It only took one independent lynch mob.
"Liriel, don't, it's safer with Balgruuf and his party, you know it is, please..."
"Tyr, don't, I don't need…!"
Didn't need him. And perhaps she didn't. But life without her seemed a lonely prospect indeed. Even lonelier if they were stuck in the same camps with a gulf between them like this.
"Did you want me to move out," he said softly. "Give you some space. If you just want away from me, let me be the one to go. Don't risk yourself on my account."
Liriel stopped, hand about to go to a magicka potion but hesitating then falling to the desk as Liriel lowered her head, letting out a sob.
Oh no. Liriel couldn't cry. This was worse than her being cold or angry. He could cope with rejection… but not knowing he'd hurt her.
"Liriel?" he breathed. "Please don't cry! Liriel, I'm sorry!"
Liriel sat back on her bed, head in her hands, sounding tearful but not actually sobbing. Just wiping tears away.
"It's not your fault," Liriel finally managed to get out. "I knew, you know. I knew you had feelings. It was there in everything you did. All those times you stopped by to see how I was doing, made me tea, gave me a hug, wrangled Cicero so I didn't have to. I just… didn't know what to do about it but couldn't tell you no either. I should be apologising to you."
"Everything I did, I did freely," Tyr said, perching on the bed a respectable two feet away from her. "You don't need to apologise. I'd do it again."
"I know," Liriel said, still not meeting his eyes. "But you deserve better. A nice human girl who can give you what you want."
Now that almost made Tyr laugh. A nice human girl. As if he had any use for that.
"I don't want some random Nord or Reachwoman," Tyr said firmly. "I want you. I want the hero who saved humanity with me. I want the woman who saved me, repeatedly. I want you at my side, when I wake up, when I go to sleep, for any battles in between, or maybe just to relax with when the day is done. I want my best friend, Liriel. In all my time as a Blade, I always had to keep part of myself hidden, could never let my guard down, not entirely. Not until I met you, and then I realised I could trust you. I wasn't a lone agent any more. You were there alongside me, and that was when I started to realise what I'd been missing out on… and worrying I was compromising myself and the Blades in the process. Except now there's no Blades left to compromise and you're not with the Dominion anyway. There's just us. And all I need to worry about is you. Look, if you don't feel the same, I understand. But don't tell me how to feel about you, or anyone else. I love you. And you should know about it. Because I don't like keeping things from you… and because you deserve to know someone does."
Liriel had let out another sob, still sounding utterly broken, and she was shaking all over, and Tyr felt his own heart breaking to see it, because she sounded not just uninterested but traumatised by the very thought.
"I can't!" Liriel cried, desperate and despairing.
"Can't what?" Tyr asked, starting to wonder… and then it occurred to him just how deep Thalmor conditioning might run. "Wait. Liriel. They told you all your life we were little more than beasts, didn't they. Is that what's bothering you. Being romantically involved with an animal."
Because if that was the case, they really were done, because he'd thought Liriel had made a heroic effort to overcome Thalmor propaganda and treat humans like people. Apparently some barriers went deeper than others. Suddenly feeling disgusted with himself for being such a fool, he got up to leave. Nine forbid he trouble her any more.
"NO!" Liriel cried, horrified. "Tyr, I'm sorry, please don't go! I don't see you like that, never did! You were always a person to me. You still are! I'm just… scared. Of relationships. With anyone."
Tyr stopped, because that made sense when he thought about it. More sense than her being a secret elven supremacist anyway. She wasn't so very old by high elf standards after all. Sitting back down on the bed he leaned in towards her, because that still left questions.
"What happened, Liriel," Tyr said quietly. "Did someone… hurt you?"
Because if someone had, Tyr sincerely hoped the bastard was stationed over here, because someone needed killing.
Liriel shook her head, which was a relief but also raised plenty of other questions.
"I never met anyone I liked," Liriel said, still not meeting his eyes, but turning to at least face him. "I think there were a few people who were trying to chat me up, thinking about it, but I never… I had to turn people down now and then and it was awkward, but I always just felt relieved afterwards. It's not like that with you."
"It's not?" Tyr asked, feeling surprised, relieved, confused and hopeful by turns. Because that had to mean…
"I don't want you to go, and you mean the world to me, but I – I've never done this before, the entire prospect terrifies me, I'm scared I'll be an awful girlfriend, and… and fifty years from now, I won't look any different but you'll be an old man!"
Liriel closed her eyes, starting to cry as her emotions got the better of her and Tyr stopped worrying about keeping his distance and not upsetting her, because she already was upset… and it turned out it wasn't because him being interested bothered her. Turned out it was her own feelings bothering her more. Reaching out his arms, Tyr pulled her close, holding her to his chest and letting her cry on his shoulder, heart lightening as she nestled against him, and when he risked kissing her forehead, she didn't resist.
"You are not an awful girlfriend," Tyr told her, ready to cry from happiness himself at maybe being able to call her that. "All I need is for you to be there and love me back. Anything else is a bonus, I promise. And either of us could die in a fight tomorrow. We might not have one year, never mind more. If life is short, shouldn't we make the most of what we do have?"
Liriel didn't answer but her tears subsided and her arms went round Tyr and it seemed something had shifted inside, Liriel of Alinor finally deciding she'd had enough of worrying and fretting and thinking of all the reasons she shouldn't act, and just following her heart.
"Tyr," he heard her whisper. "I'm not remotely ready to have sex or anything. But… can we get rid of that wretched screen and push the beds together? You just always feel so far away behind that thing."
Tyr laughed and agreed, and within minutes the screen was moved to one side, shielding the washbasin alone, and the beds were now one. It would raise a few eyebrows, and the sight of Tyr the introverted housecarl and Liriel the all-business healer mage actually cuddling each other and looking happy would be the talk of the Stormcloaks for weeks… but for now, neither of them had a care for anyone save each other.
A/N: Yeah, I gave the Reach mobile phones. Amazing what they can manage with stolen Legion comms devices when the Reach-King doesn't want his boyfriend to get lonely away from home.