After she'd somewhat calmed herself, she returned to the campfire only to wordlessly pack her things. Once finished, she secured Frost at the stables and waited on the other end of Ivarstead, near the bridge leading to the seven thousand steps. Although appearing calm, every bone in her body hurt. Her neck was covered in purple bruises, it hurt to move. Galmar was strong and every hit she parried she felt vibrating through her entire body.

When the Jarl and Galmar appeared in her view, she turned her back to them and headed for the steps. There was a moderated distance between them, but Minerva could hear them arguing so she knew they were behind her.

She kept to her thoughts and advanced without waiting for her followers. The anger was bubbling, her clenched fists shook from the suppressed rage. Galmar's accusations rang loudly in her mind, poisoning her rational thoughts and further stoking her anger. It shouldn't bother her what he thought of her, but the truth was that his vile words gnawed at her soul and hurt her pride greatly.

Minerva wanted nothing but to see the elven kingdom burn. He couldn't even comprehend how much she despised the Dominion.

Her snarl and anger deepened further as the Jarl of Windhelm popped up in her mind. Sickness twisted her gut because the Jarl had entrusted Galmar with what appeared his thoughts about her, without even telling her, first. Whatever was going on between them, she would be the last to find out, apparently.

She glanced behind her shoulder, just to be certain of their safety even though little could threaten them here. It irritated her to see the Jarl hurrying towards her, leaving the general behind.

Whatever he wished to say, she had no desire to hear it, currently. She hurried her steps, but he stubbornly followed.

"Dragonborn."

She hated him.

She stopped and waited, crossing her arms. Staring at the front without looking at him standing next to her.

A few heartbeats passed, she hoped they would just continue. It frustrated her beyond anything to find him appear right in her view.

She averted her head away from him, enough to not having to look into his eyes.

It was cold, Minerva wanted to get moving because as soon as they stopped she started to feel the cold creep beneath her armor.

"I apologize for Galmar's behavior." No reaction came from her, not even a nod or any kind of acknowledgment. "He should not have spoken to you as he did."

Of course Galmar would tell him of their conversation prior to their fight. However she doubted he'd been honest about everything.

Silence passed between them, she'd noticed him shifting. Stubbornly she ignored him, hoping he would drop the matter so they could continue up the mountain.

"You should say something."

She looked at him, teeth clenched and jaw tense, brows furrowed. It was unbelievable he would even ask such a thing. Even so, what was she supposed to tell him. Expressing her anger or divulge how betrayed she felt wouldn't change anything.

It hurt to realize that Galmar had been the first to hear from the Jarl what had been going on between them, even though it wasn't his to know. It should have been her he'd spoken to, especially regarding their kiss.

No matter how much she'd pressed him into talking to her, he always refused. It made her wonder why she needed to divulge him anything, especially now in the cold mountain.

"We should continue our journey," she blankly stated, "This isn't the place to talk about such matters."

It felt good to use his own words against him. The look in his eyes changed as she held his gaze for a moment. As expected, nothing came from him, so she moved past him and continued the path up the mountain.

A strange feeling knotted her gut as she continued to walk, but refrained from looking back. Glancing behind her shoulder at him, no matter how great the desire to do so, would be a mistake because she knew he was waiting for that to happen. It would show her weakness and prove her interest in him, and give him a sign that she was still interested in whatever he wished to discuss with her.

Of course she was interested, but she would be a fool to show it.

With each further step the hope for him to do something diminished, proving that he wouldn't try to provoke the conversation currently. The mountain wasn't the place to talk about anything, of course. Still, a small fraction of her heart hoped to finally find out.

Swallowing, she pulled the furs tighter and quickened her steps as the snowfall increased. The sooner they reached the halls of High Hrothgar, the better.

####

The trio stepped inside the ancient halls of High Hrothgar and were immediately greeted by Arngeir.

"Dovahkiin," he greeted, but refused to acknowledge either Galmar or the Jarl. He acted as though they weren't even there, keeping his eyes firmly on her. "The Imperial general has arrived hours prior. They are impatient."

"As am I, Arngeir."

Arngeir nodded. The door behind them rumbled and all turned their attention to it. Minerva furrowed her brows when Delphine and Esbern stepped through, their cloaks heavy with snow.

Delphine pushed the hood back and her eyes landed on hers.

"Good we're not too late," she commented, further dusting the snow off her arms.

"What are you two doing here?" Minerva wondered suspiciously.

Arngeir hummed disapprovingly and Delphine took the moment of his silence to address him, ignoring Minerva's question.

"Arngeir, is it? You know who we are, and why we are here."

"You are not invited, nor welcome here. This council does not concern you," he quickly retorted.

But Delphine wouldn't have it. "We have every right to be here. If it weren't for us, the Dragonborn would be trapped here, dreaming and turning a blind eye to the imminent threat."

The situation threatened to escalate, Delphine was getting worked up and angry, Arngeir seemed irritated. Minerva feared he would shout her apart.

Esbern stepped in, looking at Delphine's profile when he tried to reason with her, "Delphine. We are not here to rehearse old grudges."

Turning his attention to Arngeir, he tried to make the elder Greybeard understand the importance of their task. "We know a great deal about the situation and the threat Alduin poses. If you want this council to succeed, you need us here."

Arngeir considered for a moment, looking very displeased. Minerva understood the tension between the two factions and partly expected Arngeir to see them out, regardless of their potential help.

But the Greybeard understood, and nodded, although irritated. "Very well. You may attend the council."

Delphine and Esbern followed Einarth to the council hall. Arngeir exhaled sharply and motioned with his head to follow. The three did so, she was eager to end this council so she could continue her task.

Minerva was right behind him when they arrived, and she needed to move aside a bit to have a look at the people in the room. She frowned.

Jarl Elisif sat next to Tullius to his left, Rikke to his right. A little further up stood Elenwen and two Thalmor guards near the chairs.

To find the Thalmor here made her at a loss for words. The Stormcloaks expressed their shock with words rather than silence.

"You dare bring the Thalmor here?! To insult us with their presence?!" Ulfric barked, looking at Tullius.

"I have every right to be here, to make sure the treaty is not violated." Elenwen answered in his stead.

Strangely, she turned her focus to Minerva. The chill crawled up her back as Elenwen's eyes rested on hers. "And so we meet again, Dragonborn. Only now I know who you really are. Your disguise was quite efficient in the Embassy. Otherwise, you would have been trapped there until we made sure to grant you safe transport to our king."

Elenwen knew of her past. The revelation made her anxious and her heartbeat quickened, but it didn't truly surprise her. It made her wonder just how much she knew.

"You would all lose your limbs for trying to get a hold of me," Minerva threatened, only to earn a chuckle from Elenwen.

"Don't be so silly. You wouldn't stand a chance against high elven magic," she cooed before her expression fell. The threat was evident, even though she sounded calm when she spoke, "You are still a fugitive of the Dominion, a prisoner seeking refuge in a foreign land. Don't forget, the Dominion always succeeds."

Minerva shuddered, rage bubbling inside of her as she clenched her hands hard. Elenwen noticed her anger and it caused her smile to stretch victoriously.

"If the Thalmor stay, I am leaving!" Ulfric growled, his mind set. "I am not discussing Skyrim's fate in their presence."

"But why so angry at us, Ulfric?" she wondered, her eyes wide in mock innocence. "It is not us who are slaughtering your people and destroying your lands."

"I am not spending a moment longer in the same room with this bitch!" Ulfric shouted. The argument began, with each of them trying to talk over the other.

It startled her when the tall Thalmor guard standing next to Elenwen raised his voice, "The First Emissary and Ambassador of the Thalmor has to ensure the treaty is not violated! Every insult directed at her will be seen as an insult to the Dominion!"

Minerva's eyes landed on him as everyone silenced. His pitch black armor stood out against Elenwen's navy colored. The huge scar on the side of his face proved he'd faced his fair share of battles. There was something sickening and frightening about him, his appearance enough to entice nightmares.

Her gut twisted unpleasantly, she wanted to vomit. The unknown Altmer seemed oddly familiar. There was a connection to him, a horrifying one.

The Thalmor looked over each of them, as if he dared anyone to challenge his earlier statement. It took a moment until his gaze found hers. Cold sweat formed on her forehead, a wave of unease clenching the air out of her lungs.

"Perhaps," Arngeir spoke when the silence grew too thick, "We should let the Dragonborn decide on that matter."

The elder Greybeard was addressing her, she heard so, but couldn't react as she stood frozen, unable to break the Altmer's gaze.

This Altmer was familiar to her, there was no doubt about it.

Who is he? And why can't I remember him?

There had been many Altmer who'd wronged her in so many ways, many faces she remembered but she couldn't remember all of them. However much she hated them, none had ignited such terror within her like the Altmer glaring at her.

"Dragonborn, what is your decision?" Arngeir asked, every pair of eyes directed at her.

Minerva couldn't remember whether she knew him somehow, and there were more pressing matters to clear, currently.

She inhaled deeply.

"The Thalmor are not needed here, not during this negotiation." She was barely able to prevent her voice from shaking.

The tall Altmer looked displeased, as well as Elenwen. Minerva could see she was glaring at her, but she was unable to tear her focus from the Altmer's red eyes.

"Very well, Dragonborn. Bask in your little victory here. Nonetheless I hope you will stop the world from burning." There was nothing sincere in her wish as the three slowly departed, but the sentence triggered something in her. One word in particular.

Burn. Her village had burned to ashes after a the Thalmor had attacked.

And said Thalmor were led by the very Altmer yelling earlier.

It was him. The murderer.

The huge scar, the red, soulless eyes, the voice.

After so many years their paths finally crossed, yet she was so close to lose him again.

"Now that that's been dealt with, we can finally start the negotiations," Arngeir declared as everyone retook their seats. "Please, Dovahkiin, take a seat so we can proceed."

Minerva couldn't allow him to leave. No. This was her chance. She was gripping the back of the stone chair, shaking, trying to keep her anger somewhat under control. Angry tears blurred her vision, she struggled with all her might not to scream in rage and go after him.

Head lowered, she couldn't see whether the others were looking at her. It didn't matter because all the rage and anger buried within her for so long finally exploded.

No. She wouldn't take the damn seat.

"I can't," she whispered.

Before anyone could question her, she stepped away from her seat and headed towards the exit.

"I cannot let him leave!" she yelled, hurrying her steps. Few heartbeats later numerous footsteps echoed behind her against the walls.

"Fus!" she shouted the entry door open and the cold hit her skin.

The Thalmor were leaving, oblivious to the angry Dragonborn standing at the top of the stairs.

With her gaze fixed on him she hurried downstairs, her fists glowing with magic. Of course the Thalmor sensed her magicka and the first to spot her was the murderer.

The smug smile on him showed he'd been waiting for this.

He casted the ebonyflesh magic and drew the huge ax secured to his back, then embedded the weapon with an ice spell. Minerva mirrored him and used ebonyflesh, though she summoned her bound sword instead of using the ones secured to their sheaths.

The wind died, the snow ceased to fall. They both stared at one another, Minerva plotting ways on how to avenge her family. He was taller than her, perhaps even stronger and quicker, but that wouldn't save him from her wrath. He would die today.

They circled around each other, each holding their gaze.

"Now I remember," the Altmer spoke and chuckled when he shook his head in realization. "Now I know the reason behind your rage."

He casted another spell, one she didn't recognize, but it left a faint red glow on his armor. "The Nords were vigilant and fought bravely, but in the end they joined their false god."

"You killed a village of innocent people!" she barked.

He threw his head back and laughed. Minerva was furious.

"Innocent?!" he repeated the word, chuckling, as though she'd said something stupid. "Half of my soldier's died because of the Breton bitch fighting alongside them!"

"Take that back, you monster!" she yelled.

She wouldn't let him talk about her mother like this.

He grinned. "You say they were innocent. The crimes they have committed and the many reports on their deeds tell a different story!"

Minerva was confused, she had the urge to prove him wrong, but couldn't. Nothing she remembered was enough to argue back. Somehow, he managed to make her doubt her memories, her thoughts, of her parents.

But what if they had been good at hiding whatever they'd been? What if they had fought in the Great War and their deeds had earned the wrath of the Dominion?

So many questions and so many things she didn't know.

The current situation, however, was not the time to scour through her memories.

"It was a glorious day," the Altmer declared with a laugh, "Their skulls are dangling from the King's palace in Summerset Isles, even to this day, reminding our citizens the Dominion always succeeds!"

She let out a roar that was equal to that of a angry Nord rallying their nearby men into battle. She threw the powered up storm spell at him, but he evaded and advanced on her taking large steps through the snow. She jumped backwards to dodge the first attack then rolled to her side to dodge the next.

Their weapons clashed, every hit seemed to vibrate the air around them. He swung the ax with all his might and she was prepared to parry it with her weapon, but the hit was hard enough to send her to the snowy ground on her rear. He brought the ax above his head, readying the death strike.

"Fus-Ro!"

The shout staggered him and sent him several steps back. The sound of a weapon being pulled stole her attention from the enemy.

Jarl Ulfric was heading towards them with Galmar and Vignar in tow, their weapons drawn.

A bolt of rage sparked through her body as she shot to her feet.

"No!" she yelled from the top of her lungs and they came to a halt. "This is my fight! Mine alone!"

The Thalmor bastard laughed loudly, peeling her attention back to him and fueling her rage further.

"You should have accepted their help, even if it only meant for them to die by my blade!" he taunted.

"You are the one dying today, you monster!" she yelled back, again casting the ebonyflesh.

The Altmer attacked and every swing of his ax seemed stronger and deadlier than the one before. It looked as though his fatigue wasn't even starting to deplete, whereas hers was already slipping.

She jumped back to dodge his spin attack and summoned the fireball, hitting him directly on his chest. It made him stumble back several steps while he glared down at the burning attire, slapping his hand across his armor to quench the fire. He used a healing spell and the fire died completely, but what she hadn't anticipated was the magic attack that came right after.

She was hit directly by a stronger fire spell, sending her fly back several feet until she landed on the ground hard. She rolled over the snow to quench the fire, the smell of burnt hair and skin reaching her nose. With a groan rumbling through her chest she stood on her feet, breathing deeply. The Altmer stood proud with ice magic dancing above his open palm.

"Pitiful," he pitied her, the ice above his palm increasing. "I expected more of the Dragonborn."

The hubris would get him killed because Minerva wasn't even halfway through with her powers. Not even remotely. What he'd seen of her until now was nothing more but a warm up. She was out of breath, but she was far from defeated.

She was only getting started.

"I'm not done yet," she growled, pulling a chuckle from him.

He enchanted his weapon again, the ice shining brightly against the metal. She suspected one little slice on her skin with the weapon would turn her into ice, but it wouldn't come to that.

He advanced on her again, running towards her headstrong and confident. Minerva waited for the right moment.

And when it came, she unleashed her shout.

"Zun-Haal-Viik!"

The weapon was pushed out of his hand and it flew far down the steep mountainside. His eyes followed the weapon, wide with outrage, until he glared at her. She couldn't keep the grin from expanding even if she wished so.

However, with his weapon now lost it meant he would use magic to fight her. She used her innate ability, Dragonskin, knowing it would aid her.

He glowed in the faint blue light of magicka, summoning both fire and ice magic. The ward summoned by Minerva blocked most of the spells but their impact pushed her back little by little.

The Altmer came closer shooting a barrage of Icy Spear at her, Minerva blocked the attacks by summoning a Wall of Frost before her magicka depleted because of the Ward. It gave her a second of reprieve until the Wall of Frost started melting away. He used Incinerate and casted a Flame Cloak, jumping over the little remains of the Wall of Frost. Minerva didn't see his attack coming; a Thunderbolt hit her directly and sent her flying until she crashed against one of the many trees.

Her body convulsed, quickly she casted a Grand Healing spell but it only served to close any wounds she received. She was unable to move when the Altmer grabbed her by her hair, lifting her up until her ankles dragged across the snow terrain. She wanted to move her arms but she felt immobilized; the aftershocks paralyzed her.

"You pathetic human being," he growled as he punched her in her stomach. "You think you can kill me?! You little wench should do nothing but please us!" He punched her again, this time a bit closer to her ribs and she cried out.

She could barely open her eyes and they rested on Ulfric. The look on him couldn't be described, Minerva didn't know what to make of it. Perhaps it was panic, perhaps it was something else. Blood came out of her mouth as he punched her again, then threw her to the ground face down.

Minerva was unable to pull herself up. The Altmer turned her on her back and she watched as he stood proudly before her.

She hated him with her entire being. She would make him suffer a horrendous death for what he'd done to her. Because of him she'd lost everything, and because of that he would lose his head.

He summoned a huge Icy Spear and it hovered above them.

Inhaling deeply, she prepared a powerful shout, one she knew was feared even by the dragons.

"Krii… Lun… Aus."

Marked for death.

The faint purple glow enveloped him and he winced, his face paling and eyes widening and the Icy Spear diminishing. He struggled to stand and slowly fell on his knees before her. Minerva used her strongest healing spell which was more than enough to give her strength back.

Bloody and beaten, yet enormously angry, she pulled herself up to stand on weak legs. Despite the healing, every bone in her body hurt. The shout slowly devoured every little bit of strength left in him. Wide, soulless eyes stared at her with his mouth hung open.

Minerva leaned down and grabbed the huge stone which had caught her attention. She smashed it against the side of his skull, catapulting him into the snowy ground though he remained conscious. He growled, giving everything to pull himself up.

"What… foul magic… is this..?" he heaved each word out, unable to speak let alone move.

She kicked his stomach, turning him on his back as he winced in pain, then kicked him again while she roared in rage, and again.

"How does that feel?! To be at the mercy of others?!" she shouted, kicking him all the while and releasing her anger on him.

Out of breath, she stopped for a moment and watched him trying to turn himself over on his stomach.

"Elenwen!" he yelled and then continued to speak in their foul language. The sound of it made her furious.

"Do NOT speak in that rotten language!" she yelled, turning him onto his back again.

She straddled his chest and released a series of punches at him, letting her rage consume her.

"Stop this madness!" Elenwen yelled, but it fell upon deaf ears. "Jarl Ulfric, general Tullius, she is committing crimes against an agent of the Aldmeri Dominion! It is requested of you to stop her!"

But nobody reacted. The face of the Altmer was barely recognizable after her severe punches.

"Elenwen!" he cried for her again, and again spoke in their language.

Minerva couldn't hear it; she turned him over on his stomach, pulling his head back from the ground as she straddled his back. She took the Mithril sword secured to her waist and brought the blade to his neck.

Greedily she started to cut at the neck, digging deeper and deeper into his skin. He gurgled as the blood seeped through his mouth, the more she cut at the flesh the more inhumane noises he made.

It didn't take long until she held the head up by his hair, presenting it to anyone. The headless body twitched and moved as the blood squirted on the snow. Elenwen and the remaining guard were mortified by what had just transpired. Still drenched in the bloodlust, Minerva yelled and abandoned the head by the body as she pushed herself up on her feet. Her next target was obvious; both Elenwen and the remaining guard would die here.

Strong arms wound around her and stopped her further approach. With all her might she tried to break free, but the hands held her tightly in place not allowing her to make a single step towards Elenwen.

"She's out of our reach!" she recognized Ulfric's voice as he tried to reason with her.

Killing Elenwen now would bring more problems than they could handle; it would direct the Dominion's forces towards Skyrim. It was exactly what the Dominion needed to have an excuse to invade them.

"We're not ready," he stated.

It was enough to erase the bloodlust and calm her. When she stilled almost completely he let go of her, but never left her side.

Elenwen ran away with the guard, Minerva watching them until they disappeared into the distance.