Chapter 9- Solitude
Elisif II
Elisif had a simple love for snow. Its sharp, clean and crisp smell filled the early morning air, bringing with it childhood memories of snow forts and skating at her family's winter estate. Restless, waking early on the morning of 16th of Frost fall, she excitedly pulled back the heavy curtains to see a frost-rimmed window and a small pile of wind-driven snow on her sill. Staring out at the sea of Ghosts lightened by the full moons of Masser and Secunda she was suddenly filled with a desire to slip out of the still-sleeping palace and relieve those memories afresh. To be alone was a rare luxury, a moment to be savoured- and she would snatch this precious gift of a moment's waking peace for herself. She eased her door open in her nightgown, slippers and dressing gown, boots and fur cloak in her hand to find her guard temporarily missing from his post. She hurriedly pulled the door shut behind her as she left, rushing down the sleeping corridors, slippers softly flapping before slipping past a slumbering guard and out a side door, pausing only to pull on her cloak and fur lined boots before she set off, feet crunching in the snow. With her immaculately white fur-lined cloak pulled low over her brilliant red hair, she would not be spotted from the palace. The deception gave her early morning jaunt a tinge of excitement, and for a fleeting moment her worries and responsibilities lay as abandoned as her warm bed.
The City of Solitude slumbered before her and she paused, taking in a crisp breath as she absorbed the wonderful sight. The mansions that lined the arrow-straight Royal Road rimed with frost, her city's steep roofs lightly dusted with snow like sprinkled sugar, and here and there a few lights twinkled in windows, dimly picking out against the night sky the spires of the College of the Arts and, distantly, the strong towers of Castle Dour at the far end of the Royal Road.
The Blue Palace, standing on a slight rise at the far end of the Solitude arch was separated from the rest of the city by a narrow and dense stripe of greenery sheltered behind its outer wall. The famous botanical gardens, a wedding gift created by some jarl-or-other for his Breton wife who missed the ornamental palace gardens of her homeland. He had transformed the Palace's central courtyard and the narrow space between the outer walls of the Blue Palace and its north wing with flowerbeds, fountains, statues, greenhouses, trees, a maze, and even a gazebo for public performances. Cobbled paths criss-crossed its lawns, intersected with meandering gravel tracks leading deep into the undergrowth in whose hidden nooks and crannies young lovers escaped the sight of their chaperones. Perhaps though that had just been her? A memory that would once have had reddened her cheeks now saddened her.
She walked quietly down a moonlit cobbled path lined with towering pines, snow weighing on their drooping boughs, headless of her tracks and her cloak trailing on the ground behind her. The greenhouses that lined the east wall were rimed with frost and dark as shadows, while the snowberries stood as cheerful fluffy white globes speckled with vivid red, adding a dash of colour to an otherwise monochromatic world. She walked in silence, turning left down the entrance of the palace maze, seized by a mad desire to return to a place of treasured memory. She wandering down its narrow alleyways, the morning's chill quite forgotten. The high-walled hedges, thin layer of snow and the early hour of the morning had robed the place of the noise that filled Solitude by day. There were no screaming gulls, harsh shouts from the port below or the city beyond. The only sounds the occasional hoot of an owl or scurry of a mouse, or the gently sloughing of snow from a branch. The hedge-maze opened up and admitted her into a small clearing.
The sight of it, once so warm in her memory now saddened her, its few flowers stood in their frozen beds, the gleaming golden fountain of Dibella cold and frosted in the centre of a circular frozen pool, surrounded by low stone walls dusted with snow. Feebly, the fountain still trickled a meagre stream of water and she paused to admire the playful tinkling of the water, loosing herself to its gentle murmur.
The month of Sun's Light brought the warmth of the heavens down upon the bustling crowds in the gardens, the warm rays bringing the purple saxifrage into bloom alongside yellow cushion plants, pasqueflowers and crocuses, their flowers enlivened by the drone of honeybees. The heavy smells of juniper and lavender filled the air, while well-attended plum, apple and cherries trees flowered in the summer sun. In the glasshouses sheltered behind steamy windows lemon, orange and mango trees bent heavy with fruit, and crowds eagerly paid to be ones of the few to drink the sweet juice of these rare and exotic fruits, cunningly mixed with ice. A few even dared the flesh and juice of odder still plants from Morrowind, braving certain poisoning-at least according to their teasing friends and relatives.
Victory! With the Stormcloak rebels purged Elisif had thrown open the Botanical gardens to the people, allowing them to freely enter to enjoy the celebrations, organised in the absence of a grand victory parade, filling the gardens with performing troupes of Nordic Bards, Breton jesters and Imperial orchestras reflecting the talents found across the Empire. Children dashed shrieking through fountains and families picnicked on the lawns, while others slumbered under trees, empty bottles of wine and mead at their feet. No one cast a watchful eye skywards or towards the eastern horizon.
Elisif walked amongst the crowds savouring the celebrations, the Jarls had begun arriving and initial negotiations were progressing well, though the Moot proper was yet to begin. But a morning talking with her councillors had soured her formerly good mood. They were discussing what to do with the traitor Jarls, and tempers were getting heated, so she had called a rest to the issue. Retiring to her private rooms had brough no respite inside the hot and stuffy palace, even with the windows thrown open to the breeze. Now, walking in the sun she relaxed. Many of her people recognised her and waved happily or bowed at her passing, others missed her presence, carried away by the pleasure of the day. Doubtless when she was queen, she would be unable to move without immediately focusing all attention upon herself.
Taking her housecarl and a few attendants she hurried through the maze for a measure of privacy out in the summer sun. The party atmosphere gripping them as they hurried laughing down the maze's twisting paths along a route she had long since memorized. They would sit on blankets by Dibella's fountain, and send for servants to bring them a selection of treats as they gossiped and laughed without care for a quick hour. Giggling at a particularly salacious piece of gossip involving the Prince of Wayrest and a convent of Dibellans, they burst into the small clearing to find a man lying at rest on the fountain pool's low walls, eyes closed and hands clasped behind his head. Their boisterous entrance rousing him from his rest.
"Dragonborn!" She cried. He stood easily, hands resting on his belt and a cheerful smile played upon his face, as he looked over the small group she led.
"Jarl Elisif!" he replied, with mocking good humour, eyes resting on her for a second before trailing over her blushing maids and struggling servants. "Hm…it seems my hiding place has been discovered."
"And mine." She paused awkwardly, uncertain of what to say. She had known his party had arrived in Solitude, but had not expected to run into him quite so casually. "Though I am surprised to see you here alone." she winced.
Well we're here for a while yet, so we thought we'd best make ourselves comfortable. Serana said something about wanting to explore Solitude, and dragged Beric out the house before sunrise. And Durag has business in Castle Dour, he seems to think that lecturing Legion artificers on the theoretical properties of Dwemer metallurgy will persuade them to part with their money." He shrugged broadly at the thought. "…He would be the first is all is all I would say." The party laughed, as a mischievous light played in his blue of his eyes, winkling at them as if trusting them with some sort of secret.
"And what of Aela?" she asked, eagerly, thoughtlessly, and she hurriedly continued when he paused for a moment. "As a Companion the Bard's College must have caught her attention! I am told that Aela is a proud inheritor of generations of honourable service to the Companions. Doubtless they are chasing the huntress for her family history even now?"
"No." he shrugged. "She has gone hunting. Aela…is not very fond of cities, or bards…or politics. Unfortunately for me, I've been left to deal with all of that, and I've been hiding from work for most of the morning. I should go, please excuse me, my Jarl." He nodded affably and moved to walk past them. A sudden recklessness and guilt filled Elisif, and she side-stepped quickly and blocked his path. He stopped in surprise, and a shiver ran up her spine as those eyes locked onto hers. Happiness made her reckless, and she felt awful at having blundered into this small moment of peace he had been enjoying. She had no desire to drive him away, and a small part of her wanted to host Skyrim's hero, to enjoy the intoxicating presence of living divinity for just a few moments more.
"Please Dragonborn, please stay- we've also escaped from politics for a little while and I promise we'll be a quiet as fieldmice." He raised an eyebrow at this as yet more servants came clattering past with their baskets, tables and chairs, and she winced.
"Jarl Elisif, forgive me but somehow I don't believe you." He said gently.
"Well, Dragonborn, it's a rare treat for us to have the chance to talk to someone who speaks so directly. I can absolutely promise you that we are not here to talk politics. Stay and enjoy just the pleasure of our company, which I assure you is exceptional."
"No politics?" he asked, warily, that mischievous glint returning.
"No politics, I promise." She smiled of relief, theatrically raising her hands like a formal oath. "
"We have food! Surely you must be hungry Dragonborn?"
"No, I'm fine, and please, call me Beren."
"Have a drink with us then. Just the one..." She said with a smile as he signed and gently accepted the proffered bottle of Black-Briar Reserve. "…and please, call me Elisif."
The snow crunched softly behind her and she twisted, surprised, to see who else would be up and moving this early. It was Henrietta, the poor little Breton woman already pink cheeked and half frozen despite the bearskin cloak wrapped about her. She smiled wryly at her, conscious of the fact that she had slipped away without Housecarl or escort, and was relieved when Henrietta smiled wryly back. Elisif looked back at the fountain one more time, before pushing those pleasant memories from her mind as she headed back to the palace.
"…It seems that at the height of the celebrations the assassin struck, killing Beren Stone-Strider as well as his squire with a blade tentatively identified by our agent as Mehrunes's Razor. Several others seem to have been injured in the struggle before the assassin was taken alive, but the exact number and names remain unconfirmed due to the sealing of Jorrvaskr and the confusion of the riot which followed. The assassin, an Imperial male calling himself Cicero, possibly a fake name, was held for questioning and the use of torture was approved by Jarl Balgruuf. Unfortunately, during the riot that followed the jester known as Cicero escaped…"
The councillors sat dressed in mourning black with all eyes fixed on Henrietta as she reported to them in the Blue Palace's stuffy council room. Elisif did not doubt that many of them may have had spies to manage their dealings, but none could match the quantity or quality of Henrietta's network.
"…Our agent has reported that the guards are maintaining that he escaped, and given the nature of his crimes and his victims, it is highly unlikely that they would have been bribed or corrupted by whatever organisation is behind this. Given the use of Mehrunes's Razor, it is likely that they are at least partially Daedric aligned in their activity."
"What organisation? I thought that Cicero acted alone?" Falk asked.
"While he does seem to have carried out this mission alone, that does not mean he was without support. We are currently pursuing several leads, but we are dealing with the fact that the Dragonborn accrued a great many enemies. We must anticipate the possibility that this assassination was carried out by Stormcloak rebels, survivors of Miraak's cult or the Volkihar, to say nothing of overseas interference by the Thalmor, Morag Tong, or another group unknown to us."
"What about the Dark Brotherhood?" Elisif asked, she knew little of the mysterious death cult, and struggled to remember even what Daedra they worshipped. Henrietta looked to speak, but it was Legate Adventus Caesennius who answered with confidence as he held up a couple of files. Passed along the table Elisif flipped it open to look over the report, the seal of the Penitus Oculatus on its front.
"It is a possibility- but it does not match their previous Modus Operandi. Victoria Vici, the Emperor and the Gourmet have all post mortem been confirmed targets of Dark Brotherhood assassination, but they were murdered in such a way as to seem an accident- a falling statute, a poison that induced heart attacks and a drowning in a lake. All of these murders have now been tied to a young Breton or Imperial man, and were initially dismissed as tragic accidents. This has allowed the Dark Brotherhood to act with comparative freedom. This murder was loud, flashy, obnoxious- if it was the Dark Brotherhood, why change their methods? Why attract attention when they have succeeded without us noticing? It is the Imperial Legion and Penitus Oculatus view that this was the work of an amateur hired by the Stormcloaks or the Thalmor. They may even have been acting alone."
"What of the Companion's investigation?" Thane Bryling asked, and Elisif did not miss the glance her darting eyes gave to Erikur's empty seat at the council table. Doubtless she would be reporting back to her brother.
"Our agent in Whiterun has not been able to report on their activities as entrance to Jorrvaskr is impossible, but it would seem that the riot provided ample opportunity for the assassin to escape, and given how the Companions behaved they are having significant difficulties in finding witnesses willing to aid them in their search. In my opinion, the honour-hunt the companions called is a wild goose chase."
There were grumblings from many of the Nords around the table at this. The failures of the Companions in recent months had brought shame upon them in the eyes of many, while The Companions were fervent in their hope that redemption can be achieved by washing out the stains of the past with cicero's blood.
"What about magical discovery options? Scrying and such things." Elisif lent forwards, looking over the bulging file Henrietta had prepared for her. Murmurs met these words, but she ignored them as she leafed through the pages of the report and its annexes. If Balgruuf was willing to use torture to get answers, then she must be willing to turn to a magical solution, however unwelcome it may be.
Melaran spoke before Henrietta could. "We have one or two in your service who could carry out such magics. We would require some artifact or tool used by the assassin. And a firm link between the item and the individual to track him. While the torturers removed his toes, which would have been ideal for us, it would seem that those have been lost along with most of their effects. The murder weapons has unfortunately also gone missing."
"The trail has gone cold then." Falk sighed in disappointment. Silence greeted this pronouncement and its conclusion. A few of the councillors muttered to each other. Henrietta seemed to disagreed, and was flipping through the report muttering in Breton under her breath. Elisif looked to her private secretary, who shook her head.
"While Adventus is correct, my agent and I believe that the Penitus Occulatus report represents the pre-Falkreath pattern of activity for the Dark Brotherhood. Before the attack on their hideout they acted in a deniable and hidden manner as they lacked strength, and we lacked reliable intelligence on their existence which resulted in a focus upon deniable, covert action. Post Falkreath, deniable operations have been replaced by more overt tactics such as the killing of the Emperor-if they wanted to remain hidden, than Falkreath would have offered them an excuse to pretend to be wiped out. Instead, they slipped aboard the ship and finished the job despite our forces being on high alert, and then slipping away unnoticed. This was a message that they were still in business-to their employers and others. Our agent has noted that from their perspective, the escape of Cicero represents the work of a master assassin, not merely a lucky accident, however botched the assassination may have been. Finally, while previous assassinations by the Dark Brotherhood have been tied to a different assassin with a different MO this assassination fits the new pattern and overarching strategy with one objective. To bring the Dark Brotherhood back."
"How reliable is this agent?" Adventus asked, as alarmed murmurs greeted this report. Elisif was unsurprised, pride in Imperial institutions and fear of the implications of Henrietta's reports were powerful reasons not to believer her, to say nothing of a report which was based on guesswork over evidence, however well intentioned.
"Their report closely matches that offered by Beric and others officers of the Imperial Legion, and other spies of mine in neighbouring towns have offered corroborating reports."
Balgruuf had assured her the riot had been quelled, and given his letter and Beric's report it would seem she once again had a reason to thank the Stone-Striders for Beric's decisive action. At this Falk leaned forwards.
"Your Majesty, we also need to consider the consequences of the Dark Brotherhood-if it is them- who is hiring assassins to destabilise Skyrim?"
"I take it Falk that you have a theory." Elisif said softly, knowing that the spectre of the Thalmor had just settled over the conversation.
"Well, we have so far considered the nature of the assassins, but not their backers. I believe we should not rule out the possibility that this represents an attack by foreign forces." He spoke clearly and simply, and Adventus and Caesennius nodded in support, the latter adding his own words.
"As we all recall, the Thalmor started the last war with the elimination of the blades inside and out of the empire. Assassination is a classic elf trick. With the civil war over they need a new way to destabilise the empire- if they aren't planning on starting a new great war in its place. what better way than to kill the dragonborn? The man who could unite the human nations and who all elves rightly fear and hate."
"We have no proof of that!" Thane Viarmo shouted "Nor do we have proof of any of these allegations beyond suspicions!" He turned from Caesennius to address her directly, breathlessly. "Your majesty, we should be careful to avoid the paranoia and fear that spread so rapidly through Whiterun, the reports of lynching and pogroms in Windhelm and Riften of the Dunmer. Many there believe the assassin an agent of the Morag Tong. Our relations with Morrowind are strained enough at it is, given the Dragonborn's acts during the siege at Windhelm. We cannot afford to let the peace of our homes be threatened by such violence against our fellow Mer living in your Kingdom, nor can we let our relations with foreign nations deteriorate further." He turned as he spoke pointedly, eyes fixed at the legate who placidly returned his stare. Elisif was unsurprised Viarmo spoke in defence of the elves. She was however surprised to see Bryling nodding and speaking in agreement.
"Thane Viarmo is right- we cannot afford disruption at home or war abroad. We have no money or troops for such a war, and we should aim to quash such rumours immediately, for the good of relations, trade and the wealth of the Kingdom."
"And yet who stands to benefit most from chaos in Skyrim if the Dragonborn's peace breaks? Who stands to gain most from the death of the dragonborn….?" Caesennius asked leadingly.
"Stop this, all of you." Elisif spoke, cutting through the chatter and bringing silence to the council chamber. The councillors sat silently as Elisif leaned forward, closed her eyes and held her head in her hands and the jagged crown cool to her touch. She had disbelieved the first reports as everyone else had- that a mad clown had murdered the dragonborn seemed a poor end to so a great hero, but the state that Marquis Reynald arrived in spoke its own truth. To want the assassin to belong to some scapegoated enemy of the day was a comforting thought, giving easy reason to senseless loss.
But the thought that there was a vast and hidden plot to destabilise Skyrim was at once too alarming to believe and too dangerous to ignore- the Oblivion crisis shown what happens when undetected plotters or Daedric cults get out of hand, and she shivered at the thought- their own era had started with the assassination of an emperor too. With the loss of the Vigilants and the Dawnguard disbanded Skyrim lacked any means of policing such insidious cults, or how far they spread their snares. It was even darkly rumoured that the companions held a number of cultists within their own ranks before Beren had stamped that business out, conducting a purge of undercover Daedric Witch cults and the breakaway Silver Hand bandit gang. All this made the Daedric link all the more alarming, as the loyalty of The Companions to their Harbinger had been distinctly patchy.
As for foreign powers, The Thalmor and the Dark elves had always used duplicitous, underhand tactics to destabilise the lawful leadership of the Empire across all of Tamriel. The Stormcloak Uprising in Skyrim had been started and supported by such methods, and had been highly successful for them in weaking enemies. It made sense for them to continue those tactics. However, she was less certain that the Dark Elves would act in such a way. She knew little of the Morag Tong, but felt certain that their 'lawful murder' justice would have been executed in a very different manner. Besides, from what little she knew of Dark Elf religion them using the blade of Mehrunes Dagon seemed highly unlikely. Frankly, she found the idea that the Dark Elves of were responsible for this more based on prejudice than fact.
However, she had little doubt that the Thalmor had a hand in aiding this shadowy group of assassins terrorising the leadership of the empire. The Dark Brotherhood would make convenient and disposable allies for the Thalmor, the Thalmor wealthy enough to afford their services and the fear that all elves had of dragonborn emperors was renowned across Tamriel. Fear, opportunity and benefit were powerful motives, and the balance of probability pointed towards the Thalmor and the Dark Brotherhood. She dropped her hands from her head and spoke.
"My Councillors have all raised fine points-my kingdom is ill prepared for another war. Yet, as is to be expected our enemies exploit our weaknesses-making use of Daedric weapons, cultists and powerful magics." She let the statement hang on the air before continuing. "Melaran, my education in these areas is sadly lacking, please prepare a report for me- and do not spare me the details you might consider unfit for a noblewoman's ears as my tutors once did. Henrietta, continue your inquires, but I want your agents to open a file on the Dark Brotherhood as the most likely perpetrators. Begin investigations into Mehrunes's Razor- the Dark Brotherhood may well have had help in acquiring it. Finally, your agents are also to bring the Thalmor Embassy under close watch- if the two are working together, I want to know for certain. Falk, you will ensure notices are distributed across the holds of Skyrim that lynch mobs or the violence we saw in Whiterun will not be tolerated. The guard will be doubled in cities to deter this behaviour- Adventus you will ensure General Tullius understands he is to supply the additional troops from our legions and auxiliaries. Falk you will also invite the Morrowind Embassy to the palace for us to discuss the violence towards the dark elves and our measures. It will not be much, but it will help."
She closed the file infront of her and pushed her chair back. She was in danger of running late for her next appointment, and had no desire to keep the grieving waiting, but was surprised into stillness when Aquillius spoke.
"If I may, there is one more order of business. As your loyal councillors we also need to raise the issue of your proposed marriage to Beren Stone-Strider. Given the present situation, there are now certain matters which must be attended to."
"What is this?" she asked, looking around the room with anger, hurt and fear filling her stomach at the sense of betrayal and ambush. It was Falk that spoke in the embarrassed silence.
"Your Majesty, to be specific, we need to discuss the situation with Aela, her pregnancy, and a proposed future marriage." He looked around the council room and when no one spoke up he continued. "These are thing that need to be handled delicately, and given the situation are quickly becoming urgent. Besides which, we must look to the stability of your Kingdom, and be quick to make alliances to assure our strength and best interests. Perhaps it would be for the best for us to consider who you will marry, and soon. Skyrim's enemies gather, but we are still to find some friends of our own."
"We should also discuss means of discrediting or if it comes to it, removing Aela and her child. We should prepare plans to be executed immediately, if necessary." Henrietta stated calmly.
She stood and chairs squealed across the wooden floor as the other councillor rose quickly. She would not be lectured to about this again, and she had no stomach for what Henrietta was implying.
"Enough." She said icily, struggling to control the anger that filled her. She clasped her hands into fists, hiding them below the level of the table as she continued icily. "I thank my councillors for taking such an active interest in my marriage, and the lives of my subjects, but now is not the time for such discussion. The city is in mourning, and it is not right to talk of marriage just yet. Nor will I murder Beren's widow and their unborn child!"
None of her councillors looked the slightest bit abashed, and unable to stand their disappointed faces, she left the room.
"How dare you speak to me like that!"
"Falk and Aquillius only spoke what they felt was right. The secret of your proposed marriage has held, for now, and with the war over people will start to wonder- we cannot afford to wait much longer." Henrietta replied evenly, seated opposite her in the shadows of the swaying carriage. Elisif refused to even think of the other matter, or voice it aloud where it could be overheard by listening ears.
"I suppose you think they were right too Bolgier?"
"Aye. They are sworn to advise you. To keep you safe." Bolgeir grunted, his hand lightly laid on the hilt of his sword as he watched the crowds. Elisif didn't reply, recognising that she had lost this argument and was not keen for a second, more public telling off by Bolgier she sat back and stared out the window.
It's a great day for a funeral, Elisif thought sourly, as her carriage rumbled out of the gates of the Blue Palace on its way to the Hall of the Dead, protected by a full squadron of household knights. She could just see the cloudy sky peaking between Solitude's towering mansions, low and grey as they blew off the sea of ghosts, and her hands and feet were already cold despite her gloves and blanket. She cast her eyes back down to Tamriel, and fixed a regal expression on her face as she watched the crowds lining the road through the glass windows which kept out the worst of the chill wind. Many of them wore black, and banners of Imperial Dragons flew at half-mast.
She knew they were right. She should have anticipated such questions, but had avoided giving any so far, at first avoiding marriage due to Torygg's death, and a desire to rule in her own right, and then improper during the month of mourning, and dutifully her councillors had complied. But now those excuses had run dry, and she was presented with three real options. First, not to marry. This would bring no real loss of face given the suitors had arrived uninvited, was simply not a solution to any of Skyrim's many problems. Secondly, to marry one of the suitors now filling up her court. Duke Tristaine had military and political experience, and would encourage good relations and trade with High Rock, but would doubtless distract her with its internecine politics from her own Kingdom. Leif Wind-Walker was a firm ally with troops and ships to spare, and was popular with the common people besides, though he would do little to bring the former Stormcloak holds into line. And then there was Prince Casimir. While she had no doubt that he was fabulously wealthy and the trade with Hammerfell, would help, there was nothing else to recommend him. Finally, she could cast around outside of the court.
The carriage rattled over the cobbles as she lost herself in her thoughts. She had tried that option with Beren, and failed. The letter she had ordered Falk to write had become an issue- Henrietta's agent had searched the Dragonborn's rooms, to no avail, and it now represented another potential future embarrassment. It had been a gamble, but she had been given good reason to believe that Beren would have left Aela. Beren would have been the ideal, a hero to unite the kingdom, amenable to her continued rule as Queen, and without any foreign entanglements. But now he was dead, Aela was pregnant, and now child, widow, and letter represented a potent threat to her and her possible dynasty/ Warriors would rally to protect the Dragonborn's heir, and the possibility of putting that child on the throne of Skyrim was a strong rallying cry to those legions Beren had raised for the imperial cause to see that yet unborn child wear the jagged crown, or in time the ruby throne. Another nasty thought appeared in her mind. Beren's death now simply seemed too convenient for it to have been revenge by his former enemies, and whatever niggling doubts she had had previously had about the involvement of the Dark Brotherhood vanished as politically motivated assassination by an outside force now seemed the most likely motive. The question was whether or not they had known of her plans, and the location of that damned letter!
The carriage halted abruptly, jarring her out of her thoughts. She looked over the cramped square abutting the Hall of the Dead and its little graveyard. Smartly her household guards opened the carriage door to let Bolgier down as Henrietta passed her a bouquet of Deathbells and lilies. Bells tolled lethargically in mourning knells as priests, family and guest drew up outside and bowed at her arrival as she walked across the square. The entire place felt compressed, its graveyard was jumbled and cramped with headstones, and trampled and crowded with people crowding over and around them. All this was surrounded by towering mansions as every person and place competed for space and attention in the tiny square. Amongst them stood Thane Erikur, standing at the lychgate to greet her, Leif Wind-Walker prominent amongst his party.
He had pleaded that shock, illness and mourning had exhausted him, and so she had excused him from his court and council duties. Erikur had not been publicly known for his love of any of his children, but rather had seemed to merely viewed then as expensive aggravations, or investments yet to mature. Many unkind souls and his enemies at court had scoffed at his behaviour. Alleging that he was exploiting his son's death for public sympathy as he had never been a popular man, and the opportunity to connect himself with The Dragonborn to hide his previous Stormcloak sympathies.
This was the first time she had seen him in weeks, and drawing close, seeing him in the flesh, unshaven, unkept and red eyed he looked image of a mourning father. Grief does strange things to parents, and by cruel twist of fate, a letter from his son had arrived on the same day as news of Erik's death. He had collapsed upon his threshold and carried been to his bed. When Erik's bones had arrived just a week ago, jumbled in a box and strapped to the back of a mule, accompanied by a letter of sympathy from Beric Stone-Stride he had been too unwell to receive any guest's person or leave his bed. His friends and allies at court whispered that he felt guilty for sending the boy away to be a squire so young, and as the weeks passed even the most indisposed to thane Erikur was moved to feel a crumb of sympathy for the man, and Solitude found a focus for mourning in the brave little squire.
The funeral had been a private family event, but now the doors had opened and the people of the city gathered. Many were here out of sympathy, some doubtless out of morbid curiosity, fashion or boredom, drawn by the presence of so many of Haafingar's and Skyrim's nobility. But it seemed a great many had come out of respect for the boy. Already Erik's life was passing into myth, as stories were sung about the untrained little squire who in the face of certain death had leapt to defend his dying master. Elisif knew this for certain, as she had paid Viarmo for it, a gesture of respect and sympathy to an often-difficult councillor. The songs were popular, and struck a chord with many of lost innocence and the betrayal her people felt at the death of Beren and Erik just as Skyrim has begun to find peace.
Erikur looked a broken man as he kissed her hand with his scraggly mourning beard, mumbling his greetings. Dark shadows hugged his downcast eyes, and she allowed him to lead her through the graveyard. Cramped within the walls that enclosed the blue district of Skyrim, buildings rose to heights unimagined in other cities, and competed with each other to make the most of each square foot of land in displays of wealth and power. To live there was to live amongst the elite of Skyrim's nobility- and to be laid to rest within the district a mark of exceptional wealth and good fortune. Today however the dead were resigned to a new indignity, as mourners stamped across the crowned graveyard without care, keen to commiserate the family of the graveyard's newest and most distinguished resident. The crowd was quiet and subdued, dipping bows and curtsies at her passage. Bouquets of black roses and deathbells were held in their hands, a pitiful tribute but necessary. After the riot at Whiterun few wished to indulge in the public tribute-giving that had formerly accompanied Skyrim funerals, for fear of provoking further violence. The doors of the Hall of the Dead swung open on gratin hinges, loomed before them, and then swallowed them up.
The walls were of thick Solitude stone, and the low vaunted ceiling felt like the catacombs that tunnelled below their feet into the rock of the arch. The room was windowless, dark, hot and stuffy from burning incense and in the centre of the room a small box of dark stained wood upon the stone bier. Four housecarls from the greatest houses of Solitude stood vigil at the corners. Laying her bouquet at the foot of the bier, she paused for a moment and whispered a prayer to the eight divines to receive Erik's soul into Sovngarde before stepping away as other mourners shuffled in. A line of watchful household knights kept the mourners distant from her, and she felt Bolgeir's eyes upon, a stern reminder not to linger long. She turned to Erikur to exchange a few brief words of sympathy before making her goodbyes- there was much to attend to, and her presence would only slow the day for others, and she was worried Leif would try to delay her further if she lingered.
"Erikur, please accept my sympathies for your loss. I have missed your wise words these past weeks, and am saddened that this is the first time we have met in a month. I am sorry that I cannot give a more fitting funeral-tribute, if there's anything I can do to help, please let me know."
He turned to her, and gratitude played across his tired face for a moment, as he mumbled his thanks, looking at his son's coffin and he murmured his response.
"I've heard the songs you commissioned in the memory of my son. He would have liked that..."
"I thought he would have, Thane Bryling told me that a bard could keep his attention like no one else could, and that when the Lay of King Olaf was discovered he hummed the tune for weeks. I felt it was the least I could do."
He nodded.
She did not know what else to say. That bitter spark which seemed to have driven Erikur all his adult life had been stamped out of him. They stood in silence for a moment longer and they watched as the mourners trailed past with their bouquets and Elisif ignore Bolgeir's eye.
"The least you could do." he suddenly mumbled, half to himself, half to her, unnerving her.
"I beg your pardon" she said politely, perhaps having misheard him. Perhaps she should just got, there was no need to make a scene. Perhaps she should leave before Erikur said something he would come to regret.
"….I have seen this past month the least people to do. I sent my son south by horse and he came back in a box on a mule. Beric's letter said it was the least he could do..." Elisif was surprised by the bitterness in his voice, the anger the trembled within it. He blinked once, twice, thrice, and wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. And then, for the first time that day he looked her dead in the eyes as he continued. "…Maven wrote a letter, telling me that our marriage pact still stood, and that Ingun could marry another of my sons- she assured me it was the least she could do...and you come and lay flowers at my son's funeral, and tell me it was the least you could do. and I…I sent him south, and told him it was the least I could do."
Elisif looked at the man. He was clearly half-mad, and she spoke in shock at his rudeness.
"What more would you have me do, my Thane?" She asked gently, conscious of the presence of so many members of the Solitude public, and unwilling to fight a grieving father so publicly. He grumbled, something unheard, shrugged, turned away from her, and it was clearly time for her to leave. All had heard of Beric's letter- but Maven's letter was a surprise. She was unsurprised that Maven wanted to maintain the alliance- it gave her an ally in the Royal Court, and Erikur new trade opportunities, but to so casually pass over a dead son so quickly spoke of desperation or callousness. She had expected Erikur to turn his clever mind to ways of using his son's death for fresh position and honours, much as it ached her to say it, but instead he seemed to be crumbling before her eyes blaming himself for the death of his son. She signalled to Bolgier and her household knights to lead her away to her carriage.
As Frostfall's days counted closer and closer to the month of Sun's Dusk a bitter wind rushed in from the west, snatching at cloaks and hoods, bringing bitter lethargy and persistent rain and snow which forced all good folk indoors. The fishwives of the docks and the blacksmiths of Castle Dour muttered curse under their breath as the snow soaked through their thin boots to chill their feet while clerks and shops keepers grumbled at the cost of wood by warming braziers in their shops. Elisif discussed Erikur's little break-down with Henrietta, accepting her advice to retain him on her council for now. While his behaviour was alarming, it showed faith in Erikur, and if his support for Maven was crumbling, then keeping him on the council could well woo him to her side, even as she pondered his sorrow-driven words.
Meanwhile with the rain and snow drumming upon the Blue Palace's leaded windows, she took council meetings, heard petitions from the throne and received ambassadors as the business of governance ground ever on. A deputation from Morrowind left her bitter and exhausted as they pressed for compensation for the death of their countrymen in Windhelm, and she toed a difficult balance of sympathy for their plight and a fundamental inability and unwillingness to offer any money in compensation. Some good news came from the campaign Leif's ships had carried out, rendering the seas between Solitude and High Rock safer than they had been for many months, and the precious few brave and capable captains that would dare the trip either left Solitude or made port, burdened from keel to gunwale with goods and foodstuffs, desperation and high prices enough to entice them out into the autumn seas and gales.
However, it was the court case between Leif and the late Beren which drew most of Elisif's attention. Melaran had pressed her to intervene on Leif's behalf, arguing it would ease the path to a proposal and in turn eventually enrich the kingdom. Meanwhile Falk and other councillors that opposed Leif as a marriage candidate had advised her to side with Aela, mollifying her with an indirect bribe. Others argued that after the letter no amount of money would restore that gulf between them, and to allow an enemy to enrich themselves out of some sense of guilt is surely bad strategy as they advanced their own interests. In the end, she did nothing, trying to preserve the dignity of the law, and the Law-speakers found in Leif's favour, arguing that the Dragonborn did not carry recognised legal military authority, and as commander of the besieging forces the honour and money was Leif's by right, at a stroke rendered him one of the richest men in the kingdom. Her councillors quarrelled, sniped at her and she argued back. Meanwhile, Leif stayed in the city, well placed to receive people coming to pay their respects to thane's Erikur and ingratiate themselves with one of Skyrim's richest and most popular men.
Her mood was not improved by the efforts of her councillor's encourage accidental little run ins with their chosen suitors. When she had visited the docks to congratulate the crews of the Breton Holks which had made the journey, she had found herself intercepted by Duke Tristaine. Her questions about their travels interrupted by his comments keen to praise the bravery and ingenuity of his countrymen; Her questions about their willingness to undertake a dangerous autumn-crossing to Windhelm interrupted by the Old Duke's airy stories of Breton bravery and waving away the worried looks of the captains. She left with her questions un-answered. When she visited the market district to commission a new gown, she found Leif Wind-Walker, loudly and proudly inspecting the silks of Radiant Raiment and advising her on clothing, jewellery and the finer points of swordplay, with reference to many a daring high-seas adventure. Even at home she found no rest, as her every movement from appointment to appointment was intercepted by prince Casimir who seemed to have little better to do than to drink her wine and dog her heels.
Elisif grew tired of it. One evening after the palace had settled to bed, she invited Henrietta to join her for a few private drinks, and together they had pulled their chairs close by the fire with dressing gowns over their nightshifts, and their hair pulled back into messy plaits. Over the past few years, she and Henrietta had spent many long nights -sharing gossip and stories over a bottle of wine or two. With the curtains pulled shut and the fire burning steadily the room was warm and snug with comfortable shadows filling the corners. A sleepy pool of firelight spilled from the grate over which Henrietta warmed her hands and stared into the fire as Elisif helped herself to another glass of wine before pulling her dressing gown closer to her. Henrietta noticed the gesture.
"I'm surprised that you feel the cold like I do."
"Even Nords get cold hen."
Henrietta smiled at the remark.
"We never had winters as bad as this in High Rock, and even after all these years I'm still not used to them."
"Your first Skyrim winter must have been quite the shock." Henrietta laughed darkly at this.
"Ha!, To put it lightly, Elisif. I was just a child then, coming through the mountain passes with my dad as we fled the court of Evemore. Our horses froze to death the third night in the mountains. Snow lay eight-foot deep in the passes and when we walked through forests it seemed to lay so deep, it seemed like walked past the tree tops. When we woke each morning, swords and cloaks stuck to the ground and the water froze in its skins."
"I'm surprised you made the journey in winter."
"We weren't really given a choice in the matter. They were watching the ports and we'd been told my betrothed's family had already made the journey. We were going to meet them in Markarth, where we had distant family." She finished with a shrug, staring into the flames.
"Oh" She trailed away awkwardly. Henrietta starred into the fire, then held out her hand for the bottle, the wine swishing as Elisif passed it over. "Was he there waiting for you?" Henrietta looked up in surprise. "Its just that….you never told me you were betrothed. You've not spoken of him at all." Elisif blurted out, and surprising herself.
"It was a long time ago, and not for very long. It just didn't matter after a while. I just moved on without thinking about it after a while."
"Oh. I'm so sorry Hen….Do you mind if I ask what happened?"
"…No, Not at all- its not a very happy story but its so long ago it doesn't really matter to me anymore. I can't remember being betrothed. In High Rock the custom is for men to marry below their station, and women above. It keeps these things predictable and keeps your families and allies on side. Often these marriages are arranged at birth, and formalised early in our lives. I know you were betrothed at sixteen, and married at eighteen, but I was engaged at six. That was the only time I saw him. Dad said on the journey we would get married in Markarth when we were grown up- a lie, but a well-meaning one. When we arrived, we were in rags and they were nowhere to be found. Lucky for us, we had family in the city who owned silver mines around Markarth, and they took us in. Then the Great War started and the Forsworn invaded Markarth. Dad died and I ended up without a home- we didn't get much sympathy from the Forsworn as you can imagine, for all they talk of a Breton brotherhood. When Ulfric was kicked out Jarl Igmund promised to return out lands though he never did and well, eventually I ended up here." There was a growing matter-of-factness in her tone, a duty done, a book snapping shut. She finished, and turned to Elisif. "…Do you miss him?"
"Who?"
"Beren."
"Oh." There was no maliciousness in Henrietta's eyes, just sympathy shining by dancing firelight, and a watchful curiosity in her sharp eyes. Elisif looked away and searched for another bottle of wine by their feet. She felt embarrassed, she had mourned Torygg for far too long, and now her friends worried she would crumble yet again.
"I'm sorry Elly, I shouldn't have-"
"It's alright Hen." She said, pulling the cork and taking a swing. A dribble of wine ran from the corner of her mouth, and she cuffed it away, embarrassed as she rambled a half-thought answer.
"He would have been a fine match. Healthy, wealthy, popular across Skyrim, with the common folk and nobles. He had troops and-"
"….That's not what I meant, Elly." Henrietta said gently.
She turned and looked at her carefully for a minute before continuing. "It's true what you say, in Skyrim we must win each other over. Torygg and I met socially growing up. He was kind, gentle and intelligent beyond his years, and I loved that gentleness thoughtfulness for its rarity in Skyrim. He was a good man, and a kind husband. But he was not a fighter, nor was he a good king- and Skyrim cannot afford another kind man in place of a good king…." Henrietta looked like she was going to interrupt, and she hurried continued.
"…I thought this would be simple, marrying Beren. I remember when I first became Jarl, and his brother arrived, sorted out wolfskull cave and the vampire clan in pinemoon cave, and then Beren appeared. You had told me to find some hero, some symbol to inspire people with. Lady Isabella or Serafen the Wanderer. But the moment Beren walked into Solitude, with the Volkihar attacking our gates every night and later when we found that damned vampire nestled in our court like a viper I knew I wanted Beren by my side. He would be my dragonborn, a true-born Nord hero. We gambled everything on him, time and time again, and we won."
She looked down at the Elsweyr carpet laid upon the floor, muttering her answer to its pattern.
"It worked well- he defeated Harkon, killed Miraak and Aldiun…We paid Viarmo for bards to travel the length and breadth of Skyrim, singing songs about Beren's glory- now every child knows The Dragonborn Comes, and when he cut off Ulfric's head we knew it was over. But you warned me, don't get reckless, don't get greedy.…." She paused for a moment, staring into the fire before continuing, struggling to phrase her thoughts carefully, to speak the way she wanted them to be heard.
"…when I first told you about my plan, I already knew Beren would accept, and you agreed with me. Aela never seemed to care for him or Solitude, and I felt sure he would accept. He always aspired to so much more than just Jorrvaskr or Kyne's Rest, and we would make those dreams come true together. I could give him that- and who would challenge our right to rule then?" She paused for a moment. "I wanted my country to be safe, and I was seduced by the romance of it all- but it was a stupid, childish, risky plan, and I was an idiot and a fool." She hiccupped here, and paused for a moment before continuing "I've failed and so now have a pack of suitors at nipping at my heels day and night, Beren dead and his wife for an enemy."
She signed, and held her head in her hands for a moment before sweeping her hair away from her face.
"Hen, what should I do? No Nord would dare to allow another to choose their partner, even their parents but now I must quiet my heart from having its say? To marry as a Breton does, a slave to the plots and plans of others? Torygg, for all his faults was still a better king than any that have come to my palace so far!"
She turned away, embarrassed at her words at how she had raised her voice at friend, and she could not bear to look at Hen's hurt expression. The fire was burning low, down to embers unattended in its heath, and the light dipped and dimmed around them. Discomfort lingered on Elisif's face just as disappointment sat on her friend's. She had expected Hen to argue- to snap back at her rage. Silence greeted her instead. The fire spluttered dying, and Elisif got up and threw another log into the fire, provoking a flurry of sparks that flew up the chimney, as Hen's eyes rested upon her back.
Torygg's death had nearly destroyed her. She recognised now that all the Imperials had needed was a puppet on Haafingar throne. She had missed that at the time, seduced by the love of a gentle man and hidden from the world in her family's estates she had grown up naïve and ill-equipped for the nest of vipers fate and the imperials had placed her in. But she had learned. And she had grown accustomed to the robes, the crown and the throne, the deference that grew with her power and was her right as High-Queen. She stared into the fire- the flames that she had condemned Sybille into when she has cut that cancer out. It had been a necessary example to the Volkihar, and to the court of her determination, and that had steeled her nerve even as the screams echoed in her mind. She was certain that Beren's death was a similar such message intended for her as much as it removed a valuable piece from the board.
She must deaden those emotions the lingered behind a serene smile and hide them where they would not betray her. Beren's death had cut her deep- as deep as Torygg's had and her anguish when Marquis Raynald had brought her the news a month ago still chilled her as much as it burned her cheeks with embarrassment as being so undone so publicly. But there was no time for the anguished indulgence she had subjected her court to when her Torygg had passed. Already there were rumours of her weakness, and she must get ahead of them. Elisif spoke in the silence, as she starred into the flames.
"Its late Hen, and I should not have shouted. I am sorry for insulting you and your people, that was not queenly of me, and I would ask you to forgive me. We should go to bed. In the morning…" she paused to think for a moment through her wine fogged her brain. "In the morning I'll send invitations to the suitor- they're going to organise the court's entertainments for the month of Evening Star. It's the 1st of Sun's Dusk tomorrow, so they'll have a month to plan and leave us free to work. At least that will keep them busy, and the court will be happy to see me taking my duties as host and queen seriously." She paused for a moment before continuing "We will see that they pay for the privilege too. At least Falk will be please about that."
Henrietta stood, and curtsied as she left, disappointment half-hidden on her face.
"Very good, my Queen."
The door clicked shut behind her, and Elisif turned with a sigh back to the fire. Brooding, she dabbed her tears away, banked down the fire, and went to bed.
A/N
Hello everyone sorry very much for the delay with this chapter- I've been sitting on it for a while until I got it to a state where I am happy with it, and in terms of what sort of things I need to do to develop the situation for Elisif. The next chapter will be from Serana, followed by one from Beric, and they should hopefully be out quicker than this one was as I'm going to be going into self-isolation in January so should have plenty of time to work on it.
In the meantime, I would like to thank everyone who has read and engaged with the story so far. I started this back in march 2019 as a hobby, and I'm happy that I've stuck with it for the past two years. Its offered me an opportunity to write in a way I never have, and with 110,000+ words it is by far the largest thing I have ever written. I hope that this story should be finished by the end of 2022, and that this year should be a more productive one than the last, and that the quality of the storytelling and writing continues to improve with the years.
I hope for each an every one of you all of you and yours are well at this time. Stay safe and thank you for taking the time to read. As ever, please review and let me know what you liked and how I can improve for the future.
Cheers.