Guide:

Dwemeris

Thoughts

"Speech"

"Dovahzul"

Warnings/Disclaimer: see chapter 4

Chapter Warning(s): More Delphine, follows canon almost exactly because I need a solid background, Cultural misunderstanding

Last time…

"So… You really are…" Delphine breathes. "Dragonborn. I owe you answers, don't I? Ask away."

Chapter 38 – Misunderstood

Needless to say, the entire way she accompanies us back to Whiterun is wrought with questions from all three members of my little group. Rayya, especially, sounds incredible interested.

Does she want to join up with the Blades? If she can't because she's my Housecarl… Wait. Housecarl. I almost forgot.

"Hold on, Rayya?" I ask her while Delphine and Lydia are in a discussion about one handed versus two handed wielding. I have to jog to catch up with her, since she's been scouting ahead a little.

"You're my Housecarl, right? Which means you protect me in exchange for… what, exactly? Of course I provide everyone who travels with me with food and gear, but is there a standard payment?"

The Redguard blinks at me a few times. "I thought you knew?"

"I have no experience with Thaneship whatsoever, other than helping whoever needs help, even though I'm Thane in three different holds. Jarl Idgrod of Morthal understood that, and thus gave me something I could use rather than a weapon, and no Housecarl or anything… As far as I'm aware at least. I've never met any Housecarls in Hjaalmarch, in any case. But. I'm getting off topic. Am I expected to pay you, and if so, how much?"

"Well… The payment really depends on the Thane or court member the Housecarl works for. I've heard horror stories about a man called Erikur, up in Solitude, who only pays his Housecarl forty septims a week! A single bottle of mead costs up to twenty septims, if you need a reference. It's truly dependent on Housecarl and Thane. I only need to eat for myself, but others have a family to provide for."

I stare at her briefly at her brief story, before turning my eyes ahead in contemplation.

"Do you also need them when I… have no need of your services at the time?"

"No. The jarls provides basic necessities, in that case. They grant us eighty a week for housing, food and the likes. There aren't many thanes in the smaller holds for a reason. I hunted my own meat and sold what I didn't need to get around properly. I also worked at the mill or farm and took on bounties from time to time. Once I hunted down a man who'd brutally slaughtered a little girl."

I see…

Hunted down a killer on her own, aye? She must be tough, even though, surprisingly, we haven't run into any dragons so far and I can't judge her mettle accurately until one of those overgrown lizards comes knocking.

But I had no idea I had to pay my Housecarls a wage. I should endeavour to better inform myself in the future. I might make mistakes that won't be as easily tolerated.

Ugh. Just when you think you've acclimatized to the local culture…

"You must think I'm a lousy Thane." I comment casually as I absently pick some blue mountain flowers by the side of the road to sell off later.

She chortles lightly, drawing the attention from the other two to us.

"I have seen worse, my Thane. You could have ordered me to provide… Other services."

For a few beats, I can only stare, not really grasping what she is referring to. Chopping wood? Buying supplies herself? Delving into a Nordic ruin in my stead?

"What sort of 'service' are you talking about? I'm not sending you into any tombs by yourself, rest assured."

She seems uneasy all of a sudden, her hands reaching for her weapons in an instinctual response as her eyes glance down and away as if abashed. She worries her lower lip between her teeth for a few seconds, probably to formulate a reply. I wait patiently for her to answer, curious yet apprehensive because Rayya seems so unflappable, normally.

"Some in a position of power wish for their subordinates to fulfil… certain needs. Sexual favours, if I must be crude."

Is she… Does she mean…

She's kidding, right?

"You're joking. Surely someone wouldn't…"

"I am afraid not my Thane."

Is making love truly so undervalued in this society? But… But it's the most sacred act two people can perform together! The closest thing to 'holy' as one that isn't a priest can go! Gods, the mere thought of being able to ASK one of my Housecarls to… Ugh, I think I might be sick…

I pause in my walking, leaning against a tree stump to steady myself as the sheer revulsion makes me want to vomit my lunch all over the dried grass.

"But – But – But doesn't having sex mean you're married?" I finally manage to croak out, aghast.

I haven't been THIS disgusted since I was almost literally drowning in Falmer guts!

Rayya stops dead in her tracks, and I can see Delphine's eyes widen and Lydia crack a weird half-smile. As their gazes swivel towards me, I wince.

Of all the follow-up reactions I'd expected, raucous laughter from all three women wasn't what I'd been expecting.

"NO! Ahaha! Sweet Arkay, hah! No!" Rayya utters, but she's laughing too hard to give more of an answer.

I'm starting to get a little flustered and also angry at their laughter, my ears and face burning red like beacons. Delphine, too, is nearly on the ground, a far cry from the stoic and serious woman I'd come to think of her as.

But making love is one of the most important things – how can they even laugh about this? It's sacrilegious!

Lydia is the one who comes to my rescue, in the end. She seems a whole lot more at ease now, the gleam in her eyes almost endearing towards me. Save me from what I think she's thinking.

Then the ice queen, cool as a cucumber and stoic as a rock, pinches my cheek between her calloused fingers as if I were five summers old.

"That is so innocent of you, my Thane," she crows. For once, the title doesn't sound like poison as it passes her lips.

"Though most prefer to only have sex with their partner, it's quite common for people of varying races to seek each other out on cold winter nights, or just for fun, when they're not wed. In Skyrim, if you want to marry, you wear an amulet of Mara, allowing interested prospective partners to come to you. Then there's a short ceremony in the Temple of Mara in Riften. To most, life is too short to make courtship a drawn-out process, and as long as the love is genuine, Mara approves." She explains.

I frown contemplatively. I can't say I'm entirely satisfied with her explanation, because it gives me even more questions about the culture of Skyrim – and other provinces too. What's the usual length for courting here? Is there such a thing? Is it formalized through gifts and gaining maternal approval, like it was back in Nchuand-zel?

"Okay."

Hold on, is… Is Lydia… Was Lydia so cold to me because she feared… That's… Ugh. Human men are disgusting sometimes. Abhorrent. Wait, are elves like that too?

…I need a bath, I feel filthy all of a sudden. And nauseous.

"Is it not the same in your culture?" Rayya asks after she and Delphine have recovered and we're on our way again.

"Not at all." I answer immediately, looking at the dirty cobblestones beneath my feet briefly before turning my eyes to the clouded sky. How to best formulate something like this?

"We… Courtship can take several years for my people. And sex… Making love is something sacred. Giving all of yourself to your partner, and they themselves to you, is the equivalent of a private wedding ceremony in Skyrim, I think. It's often celebrated publicly soon after, but…"

It's something most prefer to keep secret until after the ceremony. It's not like that at ALL here. So… Marcurio didn't… marry? And…

Oh.

Oh dear.

Marcurio didn't marry that whore, then.

I – I messed up something big, didn't I?

Shit.

What does an Amulet of Mara look like, anyway?

"I… I think I might have made a mistake." I murmur under my breath, picking at a scabbed cut on my finger and sighing.

I might have had a chance… even a small one, after all… I bet I can forget about it now. After the way I acted, how I let jealousy consume me – it's proof that I'd be a shitty partner, if Marcurio was ever even interested in men – or elves, really, in the first place.

He's never going to look twice at me now, if I were to cross paths with him again.

I messed up.

"Oh well," I try, with clearly forced cheer, "I suppose I should have expected to run into a cultural difference I didn't know about eventually…"

But for the love of Sithis, why did it have to happen now? And why about something as frigging important as THIS?!

I am very quiet for the remainder of the journey. Internally though, my mind is louder than it has ever been – even if it's mostly incoherent screeching at myself for being an uninformed idiot.

At last, I see something to temporarily take my mind off of my social faux-pas:

The Khajit caravan is in Whiterun now.

But it's the middle of the day and I have three people with me whom I do not trust, cannot fully trust, and I cannot sneak away without a good enough excuse. I take solace in the fact that Lydia seems a whole lot less frigid, though still offhanded towards me.

I ignore the cat people as they go about their day – I spot my target amongst them, goofing off with one of the others, and bite my lip.

He will have to die eventually.

I mean, I will have to kill him eventually.

It can wait. For now, we're headed for Riverwood to discuss the upcoming Thalmor party… and presumably, how I'm going to get in.

…

As things turn out, I'll be in time for Vittoria Vicci's wedding… So early, in fact, that I've two weeks to spare. Two weeks to recover from a suicide mission into the Thalmor Embassy while Rayya and Lydia stay at the Winking Skeever and do… whatever it is girls do when they're left to their own devices. I gave both of them a thousand septims to spend as they wish while I sit at a table with a very nervous Bosmer contact.

"Our mutual friend send me." I decide to start off, leaning backwards comfortably in the wooden chair opposite him.

Malborn is… decidedly not impressed. "Really, you're who she picked? I hope she knows what she's doing."

To be completely honest, I hope so too. With a spy like this I'll be in trouble before I'm even through the doors of the Winking Skeever.

Not to mention how badly I stand out compared to most other races. I barely share any semblance with them, and while an uninformed party could probably mistake me for a mixed blood Dunmer-Breton… It's a far shot.

"Here's the deal. I can smuggle some equipment into the Embassy for you. Not too much, it'll have to fit in my bag. Take what you can't live without and I'll make sure it gets in. The rest is up to you."

Sounds… promising?

So, I will need Healing and Stamina potions, some picks for eventual locks I'll need to open, and a weapon or two. I give him one of my axes, my dagger, potions and picks.

After a moment's hesitation, I also add my grandfather's amulet to the small pile. I haven't taken it off since I woke up on my stone bed all that time ago, and it feels strange not to have the familiar weight around my neck.

I'll endure it until I get into the Embassy. I hope, pressing my lips together tightly. "Here's all I'll need." I've fought without armour before. And the Thalmor, once I'm through with them, won't miss a set of elven gear.

"Okay, I'll get this into the Embassy for you. I've got to go now."

Now all that's left is to wait for nightfall to meet with Delphine, and then attend the party. Tonight.

I will not be getting a moment's rest for the rest of my life, will I?

As I watch the elf leave, I understand what Delphine meant when she said he wasn't suited for high risk missions. He's well on his way to be suspected before he even gets to the Embassy if he keeps his face contorted like that.

After a few moments, Lydia takes his place. "Are you ready, my Thane?"

I shake my head honestly. "I don't think I'll ever be. But who knows, there might be some old friends there." I eye her muscled arms and let my lip twitch upwards into a sly smile.

All of a sudden, I'm having a wonderful idea.

"Why don't you come with me to meet Delphine?"

Rayya, who's listening to the entire exchange, sees the way I'm looking and huffs in amusement. "I will come to, if you wish, my Thane."

Agreeing easily, I let them lead me to the stables. I ignore the small stab of guilt at planning to use the two women like this.

Well… Someone will need to watch over my armour and all the other stuff I'm carrying while I'm at the party.

The path is dark and badly lit, our footsteps bouncing off the high stone walls until they make place for a cliff on one side, and mountains on the other. The wildlife is buzzing and rustling around the undergrowth, and the sky is clear and full of stars, the moons glowing brightly.

A beautiful night to go ruin a Thalmor party, if there ever was one.

"Have you given everything you wanted to smuggle in to Malborn?" Delphine asks, looking me up and down. "Didn't you think of your armour?" I shrug.

This is currently my only set, I'm not walking around naked.

"I doubt the Thalmor will miss a set once I get there." The blonde huffs even as Lydia sighs, having deduced the real reason why I still wear my armour, no doubt.

"Fair enough. Here, I got you an invitation to the party. But the only way you're getting in is when you look the part. Which means you can't be armed to the teeth. Put these on, behind the mill if you must. I'm sure your friends will keep your gear safe."

Lydia face palms even as Rayya claps her on the back. "You didn't think he was going to let us do whatever while he's risking his life, did you? Taking care of his armour and weapons is the least we can do."

The Nord woman gives me a sideways look even as I unclip the chest piece and the bracers, carefully putting them down next to my boots. "I am sworn to carry your burdens." She sounds exasperated, and I snigger even as I duck behind the mill.

No need to let everyone see my underwear. Good thing I managed to take a bath earlier, or this would not have gone over well even WITH the fancy outfit.

…Mellte would have laughed his ass off at this. It's the pigtail-incident all over again.

'Fancy' being a relative term. I honestly feel a little ridiculous in the red-brownish robes. I adjust the cuffs on my wrists self-consciously as I step back out from cover, carefully watching the women for their reactions and hoping they won't laugh.

Lydia raises an eyebrow. Rayya stays neutral and Delphine – "I guess that will have to do. At least until you open your mouth."

Now it's my turn to copy Lydia's expression.

"I can be perfectly polite and eloquent enough to pass for a noble, ma'am, if the occasion calls for it and I feel acting thusly is beneficial to my own ends." I drawl mock-haughtily, even as I'm brought to a carriage and give away all my other worldly possessions to my Housecarls, feeling very naked and uncomfortable doing so.

Delphine only snorts, but the tight line of her shoulders relaxes a bit.

I guess… I can trust my Housecarls this much. Or put faith in their ability not to mess up and lose my stuff, in any case.

Only armed with my wit, my quality party clothes, and my Thu'um – Which will see liberal use, not doubt – I listen to the Blade.

"…Just make sure you get out alive with the information you need. Good luck." She ends, and I nod solemnly at her once, before getting into the carriage and hoping that the invitation clutched in my hands is either genuine or a forgery good enough to pass.

Regardless, it will have to do, I think grimly, watching the night sky and falling into meditation to calm my racing heart from beating far too fast, and keep my clammy hands from sporadically twitching into fists.

By the time I get to the Thalmor Embassy, I have my best game face on – shamelessly stolen from Ondolemar. Appear calm and aloof, even vaguely amused by what's happening around you, while absolutely, blindly panicking on the inside.

You can say what you want about the Thalmor, but their techniques are highly effective. Hah, I wonder if my favourite Altmer is attending tonight?

I get off the cart and leisurely approach the guard standing near the stairs with a torch. "Welcome to the Thalmor Embassy. Your invitation, please." I keep my face neutral as I hand over the fragile piece of paper Delphine had shoved into my hands. Luckily, it didn't get crinkled.

"Certainly."

The guard eyes me for a moment, but I pretend to inspect another guest as he arrives briefly before turning back to her. "Thank you sir. Go right in." I spare her a small, respectful nod, before heading up the stairs quickly, rubbing my arm and not having to fake the shiver from the cold. Skyrim is lovely, but it would be even lovelier if not for this cold.

I step through the doors before the other guest does – must be Nord, if he can stand waiting out here this long – and am almost immediately faced with the first challenge: The big bad lady herself. I keep all my reactions at a minimum, only showing vague pleasantness and interest when the Altmer approaches.

Ondolemar likened her to a Daedric Prince on several occasions. She really must be something, to hide it this well. Very well, let's see if I can still play this game after almost a year of not dealing with unpleasant extended family.

"Welcome." Her voice is grating. Like she yelled and screamed too much and damaged the chords permanently – probably yells at her subordinates. "I don't believe we've met. I am Elenwen, the Thalmor Ambassador to Skyrim. And you are..?"

Gods, this is going to be like dealing with auntie Murid all over again.

A/N: Re-uploaded the last chapter because Delphine is not a Nord, thank you hunter81095 for pointing it out! Also FF wouldn't let me update this early, sorry for the lateness!