A/N: Again, a reminder that I've altered the TESlore for Dibella's Sybil and brought in a new goddess.
A/N: In case anyone was counting, after all this time, I've finally fixed down Revyn's age. He was shipped to Skyrim at 18, a year before the Red Year. You'd think I'd have fixed down dates before writing, but I'm sloppy like that. Also, I'm holding to 300 being the upper max age limit. While there is precedent for Dunmer to be over 400, I am think those are mages using life-extension spells or rich folk who can afford to pay for that magic.
A/N: Stories #51-57 have been edited, no plot changes, just grammar fixes.
Stone Chippings
A Morag Tong assassin delivered a small chest to his Windhelm home. Inside were three labeled black soulgems — Maven, Sibbi, Hemming.
He had not made a contract with them, and there was nothing else in the box to indicate who had paid for this macabre gift.
He should notify the rest of the family in Cyrodiil so they could watch for the power-void fallout. It might flush other players out into the open. As for the gems, he had no immediate need for them. The souls of the three were already wandering the bleak ruins of the Soul Cairn, and these crystal remnants were just one-time use tools. His wife could probably do something with them. Or Wuunferth. He owed the old mage for his help in the past year. Hah. Or even Falion. Use Black-Briar souls to redeem vampires.
It was time to return home, but other matters had come up in the Reach that asked for his aid.
Another blasted month then away from home. His babe would be well attended and guarded at Tel Windstad.
X—X—X—X—X—X—X
"Oh, yes, he's promised to come for me by the end of summer," said Fjotra. She smiled brightly at him, but her eyes were uncertain and desperately asking something.
Revyn nodded, smiling sympathetically at the 12-year-old girl. He was irritated at the other senior priestesses. They couldn't wait a few more years but had to push the child into the bed and motherhood at such a young age? Not that Fjotra, or the new Sybil of Dibella, would raise the child. Once the babe was born, it would be given to Ainethach's care. The child would be the first disciple of Artula, the patron of the orphans and the abandoned. Because the Sybil's first lover would shape Dibella's blessings for the next generation, he had arranged that her first lover would be Nicholas Faustus Felix Mede, or, simply, Felix Mede.
"I wish you had more time to get to know him, my dear," he said. "Nicky is honorable, funny, kind, and intelligent."
"We had only two hours one evening. He did seem very kind. I was too fri-, shy to talk to him, and the sisters said I needed more rest. Mother Hamal said it was constant work to get him to come because his schedule as the Imperial Heir was so difficult to work with. This was the earliest they could push for."
He looked out over Markarth. Dibella's temple sat on the highest bedrock pillar in the city. Its view of the surrounding mountains was unmatched. In the orange-gold light of the setting sun, the city of stone seemed softer and more dream-like, less the capital of the Reach and more the crumbling ruins of the ancient Dwemer city it originally was. It could almost be considered romantic if one were in that kind of whimsical mood.
They were sitting on the front steps. Revyn didn't want to go into the temple because the divine power within strained the binding he had with the six remaining ghosts attached to his soul. Fjotra was happy to come out to talk to him. Her attendants kept their distance, giving them privacy.
"Have you visited your parents lately? Visited Karthwasten and the orphanage?" he asked.
"My parents come here once a month."
"That is a shame. Do you want to visit? Give me permission, and I shall try to persuade Mother Hamal for you."
The strength with which she clutched his hand was telling. "You have my permission. Please persuade her," she asked with a pitiful quavering tone.
X—X—X—X—X—X—X
The lady and her attendants had accosted him as he descended the steps from Dibella's temple.
She had been ascending to pray and believed it was fate they meet here.
"Lady Caitlin Sinclair, yes, I do recall meeting you at Ulfric's coronation." She was one of the dozen nobles who'd come in the Reach delegation. He recalled that she and his wife got along well, and she was also acquainted with the Blackwing family of Thornberry village, the village Yannig Blackwing was from. She also knew him because she always placed second in any shooting competitions against him.
She was Reach born and of Reach blood. Her family held land along the High Rock border. Far enough from Markarth that they held their own against the Forsworn and the late Silver-Blood machinations. Their estate territory also abutted the Thornberry village land. She was tall, broad-shouldered and muscled limbs from all the combat training since her childhood, and had custom leather armor over a short, heavy silk dress. Her buckler and sword were also custom-made to her hands. Bright blue eyes and thick, dark amber hair tied back with a ribbon. When Revyn had first met her, she was in a long, floor-dragging court gown, painted, and her hair in complicated braids and ribbons. He liked this look on her much better.
She was inexplicably in love with Jarl Igmund. But while he respected her intelligence and superior fighting skills, he wasn't physically attracted to her body type, preferring the more buxom feminine form and feminine mannerisms.
Igmund had talked enough, freely invoking Revyn's name to repel advances by many parties intent on marriage.
Idiot.
"I heard that Thane Faro's mate was making a special trip to Markarth, leaving his precious child behind in Hjaalmarch. Everyone knows Igmund awaits to hear the news that you've found a bride for him. I was coming here to pray to Dibella that you would consider me as a candidate."
"How did you know I was coming?"
"Yannig wrote to me."
"You want to be Igmund's queen?"
"I do. Come with me, please. Let us have lunch together, and I will tell you what advantages I bring. Or I can tell you right here if you wish."
X—X—X—X—X—X—X
"What brings you to Markarth, Revyn? Have you finally found someone for Igmund?"
Icewind had appeared at his door carrying a small barrel of juniper beer and a basket of roasted fish and fresh bread. He must have had people watching to catch Revyn on the one afternoon he wasn't rushing out do business or meeting people.
"No, I'm still looking. It's not an easy task to find someone both strong enough to manage him and satisfy the Forsworn demand for one of their own, especially from the other side of the continent."
"Yes. And since we've been to Eastmarch, we've heard how busy you are with your new town and your new dark elf house. Nonetheless, Igmund is getting no younger, neither is Madanach."
"I understand. But you tell me, Icewind, has Igmund softened his resentment of taking a Reach bride?"
"He's making an effort. Those private talks you arranged between him and Ulfric seems to have quieted down his rants against the Forsworn. Hjaalmarch and Whiterun have also had conversations with him while you were captured. I should warn you that Hjaalmarch made some interesting forecasts for him."
"Oh, had she? I wish she would have mentioned that to me before she left for Bruma. Ah, well."
Icewind laughed. "Aye. She well and truly reminded everyone just how mad the world was. Well, one assurance is that Whiterun and Hjaalmarch will be strengthening their border control to monitor Dominion activity. Madanach has already taken over the abandoned Legion fortresses and checkpoints. The Nords that remain are uneasy about their place in the Reach. The new queen you find is going to have to be someone special to calm their fears.
"Which again brings us to the question of what business do you have in the Reach this time?"
Revyn made gentle patting motions in the air with his hands as he answered, "Nothing dramatic, I assure you. Just catching up on life with the new Sybil, Karthwasten, and the new orphanage. I also hear that Calcelmo has temporarily returned here to celebrate the pregnancy of his young wife."
Icewind smiled briefly at that. "Yes. He's also been making some vague promises of luxuries. He tells us he's invited that Dunmer inventor he's been working with to come here with some of his clever crafters."
"Oh, yes. I did grant permission for them to stay at Vlindrel. But it is likely Master Curtis and his people will be camping in Nchuand-Zel."
"So, Sybil, Karthwasten, orphanage, and Calcelmo," Icewind repeated, counting on his fingers. "Anything else?"
"My, you are always so suspicious of me. Very well, Nepos has asked me to host his niece who is on her way back to High Rock to visit her parents. He'd rather be here, but he cannot get away from whatever task Madanach has him on."
"He has a niece?"
"Yes. He's mentioned it before, and I distinctly remember you being at the dinner event when he mentioned it. Other nobles were joking about finding young High Rock noblewomen who had Reach blood as Nepos did."
"Huh. She sounds promising. I'll mention her to Igmund."
"No! I wasn't bringing her up as a match. Besides, she's a student at Winterhold. Would Igmund want a wizard for a bride? And Lady Elyzabyth will not give up her ambition to become a master of restorations for a crown. And as a wizard, she will outlive him by decades."
"Oh, yes. That is off-putting."
"Mm, yes. She's at the top of her class. I don't know if Igmund is man enough for her."
"What do you mean by that?"
"Oh, nothing, nothing. She is not a candidate. What I think there is nothing worth considering."
"Lying ashviper. The moment you turned away to get that second bottle of wine when there's a perfectly good one still on the table, I knew you were smirking. I'll tell Igmund that and make sure he's in the proper frame of mind to make a favorable impression on her."
Revyn rolled his eyes. The man always took his words in the worst possible way.
X—X—X—X—X—X—X
"Oh, oh, this place has grown so much!" Fjotra exclaimed as she dragged Mother Hamal over to the shrine of Artula.
"So this is Karthwasten. It's not the little dirt village I first heard of. Cousin Ainethach is doing well building it up into a proper town. It's like Winterhold, coming back from the dead."
Revyn turned to smile at the Breton girl. She'd gotten a few inches taller since he'd first met her in Whiterun during the last Moot. "Did you enjoy your tour of the mines?" he asked.
"It was interesting, truly. And certainly safer than exploring the underground ruins around Winterhold. At least here, there's no danger of running into Falmer and their giant insects." She held up a chunk of silver ore. "And I got a nice souvenir."
"That should make at least four rings or a good-sized brooch to hold your cloak. And how do you like your cousins, Ainethach and his wife?"
"Cousin Ainethach represented himself well in his letters. I like him and admire his determination to build up this town. Giselle is a bit wild, but I like her. She seems excited to have the responsibility to raise the first saint of their goddess. She's genuinely fond of Ainethach even though he's over two decades older. She also tells me he's a bit shy to come to passion, but it's worth the effort because he's very thorough. Not that I really needed to know that," she added, mumbling and blushing.
"Hm, the feather doesn't drop lightly from the bird it came from," commented Revyn.
"What?"
"I'm sure if you ever meet her grandmother Minuet, you'd see what I mean. Her grandmother has her own way of bringing men to their knees."
"Hm, I don't think I want to know the details of how you, a married man, knows that, Cousin Revyn. It's probably too much for my maidenly ears."
"Yes."
Gilavin jogged up to them. "Master, the visitors you said to watch for have arrived. They're settling into the temporary workers' barracks number three at the far edge of town."
"Ah. And how do they look?"
"Like a tough band of robbers or mercenaries. But they are flying Madanach's flag, and there are two briarhearts with them. Also, three of them are fully armored with face-covering helmets."
"Excellent. Now, go to Director Rhea and tell her to distract Mother Hamal. Tell Fjotra that Giselle and I want her to come in for a little rest and snacks."
Revyn went to the barracks. Yes, the bunch looked like a group of ruffians. A well-fed, remarkably healthy group of Imperials, Nords, a Bosmer, and an Altmer with fitted armor that was well-worn but hardly ragged and ill-used. Except for the briarhearts, all of them were Penitus Oculatus. Unlike the Blades, who purported to serve the Dragonborn Emperors, but who had their own deep-rooted Akaviri-snake agenda to control the Dragonborn line, the Penitus Oculatus was created by and strictly loyal to the Medes. He gave his name to the group lounging outside the door and waited patiently under their assessing stares while one of them went inside.
The door opened and the same guard silently jerked his thumb over his shoulder for Revyn to go in. Revyn crossed the threshold and, though he was braced for it, Nicky's welcoming hug drove the breath out of his body. He returned the hug and patted the boy's shoulders until he was released. Stepping back, he smiled as he assessed the boy. He was, what, 22 or 23 by now. His birthday ... ah, 23. A reckless adventurer, to Harbinger of the Companions, to heir of the Ruby Throne. He didn't care for the tiredness in those eyes. The mischief and determined spirit was still there, dimmed by ill-suited work, but the boy was still able to laugh.
"Damn good to see you, Revyn! Last I heard you were kidnapped at Stormcloak's coronation. Obviously, you got rescued. I want the whole story before you leave the Reach."
"And you shall get it. But first, Little Fjotra is presently in Ainethach's house and her chaperon, Mother Hamal, is being distracted by the orphanage director. We should go there now to discuss some strategies to make some courtship time."
"Really? I thought you would have had it all arranged by now."
"Ha, ha. I only just got here two days ago and I've been running around to meetings. This like all the others."
"Uh-huh. Mephala's little whispering spider helper. All right." Nicky was wearing an Legion chestpiece that had the Imperial Dragon scrubbed off it. Arm and leg pieces were mostly Blades armor with one glove ancient Atmoran. His shield was a battered elven moonstone. He wrapped his silk scarf around his head leaving only the eyes exposed and then put on a Dominion helmet.
"You do look like a proper scavenger, Nicky. Most self-respecting bandit leaders do try for a more cohesive look, the better to scare and impress their victims with their obvious success in affording fitted armor. They want to advertise their presence. This is just trying too hard. I'm disappointed your handlers let you go out like this."
Nicky gave him a death glare. "I'm not the bandit leader, he is," he growled, jerking a thumb over to a steel knight in polishd Breton-styled armor who was lounging against a wall watching them. "I'm —"
"A sloppy second?"
"Bite me, cousin."
"Ah, I beg you forgive my ill-judged words, O Prince."
"And stop sucking. B'vek! Come on, commander. Oh, Revyn, this is Commander Enlo. Commander, this is Lord Revyn Sadri. He's married to my cousin, Helsette Faro Felix, who also happens to be a thane of Markarth. Still is, right, even though the Reach has separated from Skyrim and the Empire?"
"Yes. Igmund insisted. And one of my tasks here is to assure him that I haven't forgotten my agreement to find him a queen to unify the the Reach."
They walked outside. Commander Enlo strode in front of them and they, like subordinates should, kept a pace behind. A subtle signal from Nicky kept any other of his guards from following them.
"Matchmaking again. You still haven't found Ulfric a queen."
"I really don't see why I should. He has dozens of noble ladies flocking about him. All he has to do is hold out his hand. A little effort on his part and he can find a suitable match."
"It must have been fun when you finally told him Yannig was really Idgrod the Younger."
"His fascination was blunted while I was captured. Jarl Idgrod's wyrding ways while she was in Windhelm tempered his later disappointment as he realized he did not want those qualities in his wife."
"Hah. And speaking of mismatched pairings, how's Calcelmo and his romance going?"
"He's a bit confused. It seems he managed to get Faleen pregnant. Baladas is quite vexed with him because his work lately has been erratic. Igmund, again, is unhappy about this as it only reminds him that I have yet to find him someone."
They got to Ainethach's house. It had been built up a bit to be more fitting to a noble. Nothing too fancy to be wildly out of place in the small town. Ainethach stood on the porch and greeted them, then he and Commander Enlo went to the wider porch area where there was a table and benches and sat there, in public view, to talk. Revyn and Nicky slipped inside the house.
He introduced Nicky to Giselle. This was their first meeting. Predictably, Giselle was more interested in the character of the man as the future influence over the Reach than as the future emperor. Nicky and Cousin Elyzabyth were happy to renew their kinship. And then the young Nord, Fjotra, and Mena, the Reach native who'd originally adopted and mothered her. Nicky greeted Fjotra her gently and sat to her left on the long couch, not touching, but close enough that she could feel his body heat. Fjotra's mother sat on her right.
"Visiting your uncle, Elyzabyth?" he asked.
"I would. But Madanach had a job for him and so he can't be here, so I'm staying at Vlindril Hall. It's a bit nicer than my uncle's place."
"You here by yourself?"
"No, I brought two friends who wanted to see Solitude and Markarth. They won't be going all the way to Jehanna with me because they were originally runaway serfs from Wayrest, and they have no interest in going back to High Rock. One's a restorations student like me and her brother studies alterations. They're both a older than me and have acted as my bodyguards since they survived as mercenaries to get to Winterhold. They'll stay with me to the border where I'll meet with my relatives for the rest of the journey to Jehanna. When the visit's over, my relatives will get me by boat back to Solitude and I'll be back in the care of my friends."
"They sound interesting," said Nicky. "I hope I get a chance to meet them. But I won't be going into the city. I'm just making time to get to know Fjotra here before our formal meeting later this year." He smiled warmly at Fjotra and she smiled shyly back.
"It's a rather large escort you brought with you," noted Revyn.
"Yeah. Most of them will be staying for a while for a little hunting at Madanach's invitation. Unfortunately, it may cause a little trouble in Hjaalmarch and Whiterun since it will be driving Thalmor patrols out from the Reach."
"I see. We've already increased our own patrols in Hjaalmarch anticipating that Madanach will step up his slaughter of any Dominion patrols he finds," said Revyn. "We've already anticipated more Thalmor activity, and Idgrod the Younger has a number of her own ideas to counter Falkreath's complicit lack of security. It would be nice of your spectres would communicate with our people, but it being against policy, we'll just have to make do."
"Yes, make do," interrupted Giselle, eyeing Nicky critically. "If you want to make time with Fjotra, you can't go about looking like that. Come upstairs with me. We need you to look like you belong in this town, like a miner." She stood up and held her hand to Nicky.
"Hagraven Minuet's granddaughter. Best listen to her, Nicky."
"Minuet? Is she the one who … Oh, oh, right."
When Minuet and Nicky were absent, Fjotra asked, "Is there a way I could get more time with him? When Mother Hamal takes me back to the city in a couple hours, I don't know when I'll be able to come here again."
"You're staying for the evening prayer service, yes?"
"Oh, yes, we are, then leaving afterwards to return to Markarth before the sun sets."
"Then I have until then to persuade her to let you stay longer in Minuet's care."
X—X—X—X—X—X—X
"It's cheating the way you call on ghosts and goddesses to push people around. Not that I have the right to complain. It's come in handy. And after a week, Fjotra is a lot more relaxed around me. I'm still not happy about her age, but I'm hopeful that now she thinks of me as a good friend. And when I return to fulfill that bargain, she'll still trust me when I take her to bed."
"I can't compel the Divines to act. Just take it as a sign Artula really wants this to happen that she manifested with Dibella's flower clutched in her talons." Revyn released the vines to drape over the section of stone he'd been working on. Artula's grotto had grown. He'd laid the foundation stones, but others with superior skills had added beautifully carved stones and small, whimsical sculptures. Then others had planted a hearty garden of native flower and flowering vines, all which had medicinal uses. Little charms of bears, snakes, and eagles, carved of stone or wood, often appeared on the altar, stayed overnight for blessing, and then disappeared into the hands of children or adults who felt they needed luck.
Revyn stood up and briskly brushed dirt and stone dust off his clothes. "I'm sorry I won't be here to see you leave, but Elyzabyth and I have been summoned to Igmund's court. He's under the illusion that I've brought Elyzabyth here for him."
"Um ... That's 15 years there. And she's a mage."
"Yes, well, thanks to Ambassador Icewind, there's going to be a party and plenty of other noble ladies attending, so his attention should be diverted from her."
"Uh-huh. And the smart ladies will be targeting you. If they're properly connected and alert, they should know that Igmund's relying on you for his queen. Getting your approval is a sure stepping stone to the throne."
"Ugh. Go away, boy, you're bothering me."
Nicky laughed. Revyn couldn't help but smile at the sound. The boy was sounding much like his old self. The days he'd spent talking with Fjotra, wandering the countryside with her, teaching her fishing … those had all been good for his soul. "Well, at least you aren't playing tag with Justiciar Ondolemar. Huh, I wonder whatever happened to that idiot?"
"Ah. He came to a bad end at the Nerevarine's hand."
"Really? Guess it couldn't have happened to a nicer guy."
X—X—X—X—X—X—X
"I, I don't know if we should."
"I don't see why not. We're both mages and we've worked together at Winterhold. Come, Aicantar. You're a bit too tall for me, but we should manage."
"I don't know how to dance, Elyzabyth."
"Oh, come. Look at the dances here. These as less complex than the children's dances in Summerset. And I saw you dance during the spring festival at the Frozen Hearth."
"That wasn't dancing, that was jumping around to avoid getting my feet stomped on!"
"But you did it so gracefully and in beat with the music. Come on." She grabbed his hand again and dragged him into a forming set.
Elyzabyth was lovely in a blue silk gown with white silk embroidery at the cuffs, hem, and around the bodice. A cut and design suited her stature and curves and her taste for simplicity. The embroidery was also a simple, repeating motif of a flowing vine with a scattering of flowers.
Aicantar had also changed from his heavy, everyday black robes to a tailored gown and half-cape of deep green silk with a richly embroidered trim and ribbon of flowers. When he worked with his uncle, he wasn't concerned with his looks, but Elyzabyth had bullied him into cleaning up properly. His hair was washed, brushed, and oiled until it looked like yellow silk strands with the faintest blush of red. It was also styled to show off his neck, the width of his shoulders, and the shape of his face. The embroidery trim also had points of color that echoed the amber of his eyes. He now presented an exotic, masculine beauty that drew a mix of admiration, lust, disapproval, and envy.
Igmund ferociously scowled as he watched the two dance together. The size difference was ridiculous. Elyzabyth barely came up to mer's heart. A Breton rose to the Summerset flower vine.
"That is Calcelmo's nephew, yes? That pale mouse scuttling under his uncle's orders?"
"That is Aicantar, yes, my jarl," said Revyn. "As for being a mouse, he's found his place working on special projects in Winterhold. It's amazing how one can bloom when given a chance to explore other fields of interest. Calcelmo really needs to find another assistant with equal interest in the Dwemer and Falmer. He's finally realized the boy is 40 and sensible enough to live his own life without his elders interfering."
"40 is a 'boy' to you?" growled Igmund.
"It is if we're talking about Mer. I'm over 219 years, my jarl. Anyone less than 50 seems a wet-nosed infant to me. It is a bad habit. And it's disconcerting to Mer how the children of Man can be so cunning and dangerous at an age where our children are still learning how to mind their manners in public. Oh, and I see that look. Yes, by the social ethics of my kind, I'm a pervert for taking an infant to wife. Doesn't matter that she's half Man and physically outgrew Mer children of the same age.
"But never mind my sex life. This is your party, and there are a good number of ladies of native blood."
"That may be so, but none of them have the right connections or influence with the natives outside the city. That much I have learned to acknowledge," said Igmund, "Now, Lady Elyzabyth —"
"Has only her connection to Lord Nepos. She was born and raised in High Rock. Only in the past two years has she been learning of her other Reach kinsman, Ainethach of Karthwasten, and his family. Her ancestress may have been the daughter of Reach Nobility, Duke Alarke of Karthwasten Hall, but that was centuries ago early third era. Her kinship with Nepos is distant if one were to analyze their pedigrees. The continuous ties of kinship had been maintained down the centuries only by the personal affections of individuals. A small thing. A remarkable and precious thing. However, politically and technically, it's negligible and does not fulfill the conditions."
"It will if you say it will."
"Pardon? Did you say something, my jarl?"
Igmund only turned a little red and looked away.
Ambassador Icewind nudged him. "If Nepos and Madanach acknowledge her, she could qualify."
"Again, that's not up to me. Yes, those two could create a measure of acceptance among the Forsworn. But the real task is for Igmund to convince her to stay. Her investment in the Reach is primary to success."
"And how would he start?" asked Icewind. When Revyn didn't immediately answer, he nudged the elf and repeated the question.
"Why not start by asking the obvious question, which is why a Breton mage chooses to go into magic-hating Nord country to study at a small, independent college instead of at one of the great universities in High Rock? Ask about her interests, ask about her family. I gave this counsel to Calcelmo. He could probably tell you word for word what I told him."
"Ask that elf?" Icewind said doubtfully. "I suppose … And no one thought he'd ever succeed with Faleen." They watched Igmund watching Elyzabyth. Igmund's expression grew darker as he saw the slights some of the nobles enacted on the Breton lady. The darker his expression, the more who noticed, and the more subtle the insults became. Aicantar, who had sensed the mood long before, made some excuse to pull her out of the room. This, of course, set off more nasty gossip about the closeness of Bretons and High Elves.
Revyn turned and bowed. "Please excuse me, my jarl. I am feeling fatigued. Additionally, Elyzabyth and I will be leaving Markarth early tomorrow morning to spend the day at Karthwasten for their spring equinox celebration. She will be leaving the day after to continue her journey to Jehanna to spend time with her family before returning to Winterhold."
He straightened and looked solemnly at the Nord. "If you wish to court her, you will first have to approach Nepos, Madanach, and Ainethach. Say nothing to her. They may have demands or expectations you will have to negotiate. They will be the ones to create her acceptance by the natives of the Reach. Their letters to her about your activity will influence her favor. That's my best advice."
"And when should I tell her I want her as my queen?"
"When she's back in Winterhold. But not until you've spoken to her Reach kinsmen first."
"That's a lot of work to win her love," said Icewind.
"Ah, there is a misunderstanding here." Revyn looked disapprovingly at both of them. "Ambassador, I never said Lady Elyzabyth was a candidate for marriage. My jarl, if you wish to marry for love, choose another. I recommend Lady Caitlin of the Sinclair family. She has a passion for you, she and her family have stood with the Nords, and she is a warrior my wife respects and considers a friend. The Forsworn will be slow to accept her because she has fought against them. However, they respect her combat prowess, if nothing else. Still, the Forsworn are radical elements. Among the rest of the Reachfolk, the Sinclair name is respected."
Igmund looked disappointed.
"The best you can hope for from Lady Elyzabyth is her respect. If she accepts marriage to you, it is because her family has decided a political marriage is beneficial to all parties. The Forsworn will be more accepting of her because of Nepos and Madanach. However, as we've witnessed, the other Reach nobility will be harder to win over because she is an outsider. Furthermore, she will outlive you. Once your heir is of the proper age, I expect she will abdicate the throne to follow her true passions."
"That elf," growled Igmund.
"Perhaps. Even so, he has honor and will not interfere with a marriage. They will simply wait until your passing. For mer, a few decades before marrying is common. Hm, but your love life aside, Lady Elyzabyth has more to contribute than just her kin connections with the Forsworn. She is well on her way to becoming a master of restorations. Combined with the other knowledge she is also learning from Master Curtis, Winterhold's Dwemer crafter, and with Calcelmo and Aicantar's assistance, she would bring the clever-crafting industry to Markarth."
"So, Hjaalmarch's words come true," said Igmund heavily. "I have my choice of accepting kindness from the one I love, or being kind to the one who loves me. I can support, or be supported. The Reach will be united, but not without unique difficulties either way."
"You haven't danced with her and scarce said anything more than banal pleasantries. How are you so sure you love her?" asked Revyn curiously.
"I don't need anyone telling me I'm getting wet when I'm standing beneath a storm in the Reach."
"Ah. I suppose that's meant to be romantic," said Revyn doubtfully. "And did Hjaalmarch have anything to say about your children?"
"That I would be proud of them and have the richness of their love."
"I see. Then allow me to withdraw, my jarl. You have a choice to make. Do not look back once you have chosen."
Related story(s): #44-49 City of Stone; #64 Rediscovering Family
Related 2nd Life story(s): #38 Arcwind Point
A/N: So, dear readers, which queen would you pick? Me, I'll just flip a coin, two out of three if I hear no votes.