Chapter 64: Stranger Consequences

The hours passed in a flurry, and not much of anything captured my attention until the Third Emissary arrived.

"Rulindil," the Jarl welcomed stiffly, at once a little taller on her throne. "How may we help you?"

Three figures stopped in the middle of Elisif's audience chamber and time ground to a halt. There was Rulindil, victorious and smug in his Thalmor robes of office, flanked by a pair of expressionless Altmer in shining golden armour. They in turn were followed by a pair of uncertain-looking palace guards.

"My dear Jarl Elisif," Rulindil smiled, eyes teasing as he dipped his head briefly and waved his hand before him, his manner walking the line between mocking and formal.

From his desk in the waiting area, Commander Maro lifted his head, fixing the Thalmor with a blank stare.

"We were relieved to hear you survived yet another attack on your Palace," Rulindil continued glibly. "What a terrible shame the Emperor and his heir did not share your luck."

"I take it you have information for our investigation?" Commander Maro stood; his chair legs scraped loudly against the flagstones.

"All in good time," Rulindil tilted his head cordially toward the Commander. "The First Emissary has sent me to assist in your efforts to…collect information."

"Thank you, but that won't be-"

"Necessary?" Rulindil supplied, cutting Maro off with a knowing smile. "On the contrary, Commander. As firm allies to Cyrodiil and members of our most noble Empire, I insist. We have reason to believe," the Emissary turned, finding me sat by the Jarl's side, "that the Emperor and Lord Vici's murderer is a woman wanted by the Thalmor for treason for a very long time."

Beside me, Hadvar draw a sharp breath, and I squeezed his hand a little firmer.

They believed Delphine was responsible - but why? Rulindil had wanted to chat about Delphine when Hadvar and I had been at the Thalmor Embassy, too, but Giselle's appearance had prevented that. They weren't here for the investigation into the Emperor's murder at all.

I had to tell myself there was no way Rulindil could have known Hadvar took the dossiers on Delphine, and the evidence was long gone.

"Understood," the grimace in Commander Maro's reply spoke of a man who'd been taught to negotiate with even the most difficult ally. "But as we are yet to take witness statements -"

"Then, how fortunate the First Emissary saw fit to send me," Rulindil's eyes sauntered back to the Commander, widened with surprise. "Standard protocol must be adhered to."

"It has been a busy afternoon," Maro grit, motioning for two nearby officers with a simple flick of a finger. The pair hurried forward, and the Commander talked to them in a lowered tone. A tense, hushed moment passed, where Rulindil simply watched and waited with a twitch to his sharp eyebrow, and no one else dared to react.

"Captain Arcturus will lead the interviews," Commander Maro glanced up with a grimace. "Any assistance you can offer in unearthing the murderer, or how they entered the palace, will be helpful," the Commander allowed.

"Lead the way, Captain," Rulindil suggested with a thin smile.

—

"And you're certain you didn't see or hear anything else?" Captain Arcturus grimaced at his wall of notes. Behind him, the staunch figure in Thalmor black sauntered inspecting his nails, seemingly caught in a thought that made him appear utterly disinterested in us.

"Only the curtains moving," I made myself focus on the officer, for Rulindil had said nothing short of welcome since I had entered the room to give my statement. "I thought it was the wind," I repeated for the hundredth time. "Perhaps had I suspected I was in danger, I might have been listening for something else."

"Yet your shield-brother-?"

"Yes, but he is always on the look-out for danger, when it comes to me," I interjected. "He is one of my protectors. And he has really good instincts," I covered.

"He said he could smell it," Captain Arcturus' steely eyes flickered up, hard and verging on annoyed. "Did you smell anything?"

I nodded knowingly. I had a few ideas what Farkas had scented, but I replied with the option least likely to result in questions I couldn't answer. "It was poison," I admitted with a limp shrug. "I - I think I smelled it too, but I was so nervous about the interview, I didn't think to question an out of place smell."

"I suppose that makes sense. All right, moving on," he sighed.

With a sigh, I pressed my fingers into my brow and rubbed at a dull, persistent ache.

"Moving on?" the Third Emissary was distinct but quiet. Captain Arcturus and I shifted to stare at him.

"Yes," the Captain barely contained the strain. "We have a lot of people to interview-"

Rulindil seemed mildly shocked. "But Captain," the Thalmor drifted around the table toward me; the hairs on the back of my neck prickled. "Did Auxiliary Jergensson not call out when he burst into the room - as though he identified who lurked behind the curtains?"

"So some have said, yes-"

Long, thin fingers curled over my shoulders as the Third Emissary stopped behind my chair, and I stilled.

"Might we ask the Saviour of Skyrim to explain her shield-brother's claims?"

"It would be speculation, Third Emissary, which only muddies the investigation. She cannot account for something someone else saw," Captain Arcturus stressed.

"But - you are right, he did seem to recognise whoever was behind the curtains," I nodded; an act of placation and silent plea that Rulindil remove his hands.

Instead, the Thalmor gave an encouraging squeeze that seemed to communicate good girl, which made my stomach lurch with nausea.

The Captain's lips thinned, eyes flickering from the Thalmor's hands, to my face. "You have an idea of who he meant?"

There was no point in denying it, though I didn't know how to explain it without treading dangerously close to Farkas' inner wolf. "I believe," I took a small, steeling breath and met the Captain's eye again. There were only two women Farkas could have meant, but only one the Thalmor wanted it to be, and only one I was willing to discuss. "I assume he picked up on signs of a woman who was a member of the Blades."

The Captain's eyes narrowed. A Blade slipping by the Penitus Oculatus to murder the Emperor would result in major ramifications for their order. "And how would you or your shield-brother recognise such a woman?"

"I don't know her very well," I admitted with a brief widening to my eyes, "but she tried to recruit me to her cause earlier this year. She has," I wrinkled my nose in distaste, "an obsession, I suppose, with my…family."

"Can you describe her? Did this Blade have a name?" the Captain asked in a rush.

"Delphine," I told him, ignoring Rulindil's tsk. "A blonde, Breton woman, in her fifties, at a guess. She said her name was Delphine. It might have been a false name; she was very paranoid."

The Captain's eyes flared with recognition, meeting mine at once. "Delphine Comtois?" he confirmed, incredulous, glancing toward the Thalmor in the room. "What is she doing in Skyrim?"

I shrugged helplessly, and behind me, Rulindil released his grip.

"Looking for a Dragonborn to control," I explained in a flat tone, repressing a sigh of relief. "I refused to join her, and I haven't seen her since. She is…was friends, once, with Ulfric Stormcloak. They studied at High Hrothgar together, before the Great War," I admitted.

"Right," he bit out, scribbling furiously at his notes. The hand not writing clenched into a fist. "When did you last see her?"

"A few months ago," I guessed.

"Do you know of her address or base of operations?"

"She didn't tell me," I shook my head. I had no will to protect Delphine, but I was not going to send the Penitus Oculatus - or the Thalmor - into Riverwood looking for her.

"How did she first reach out to you?" Rulindil supplied with the vaguest of interest.

"A note."

"Do you still possess it?" the Altmer asked mildly.

"Why did you agree to meet with her at all?" the Captain asked at the same time.

I shook my head in frustration, and chose my truths carefully. "She took an artefact I needed to fulfil my training with the Greybeards, and used it to blackmail me into meeting with her. We met at an abandoned shack on the border of Hjaalmarch and Haafingar. It didn't look like anybody had lived there for years."

It was all true, even if I had compressed our meetings into a single encounter.

"Still," the Captain sat back. "I'll get you to mark its location on a map."

"If it will help," I conceded.

"It might," Rulindil murmured thoughtfully. I could feel the heat of his eyes on my skin, but couldn't find the will to meet them.

Captain Arcturus shuffled the papers on his desk then slid a map and stick of charcoal toward me.

"Is there anybody else you can think of that your shield-brother might have meant?" he scratched a blonde sideburn with the feather-end of his quill, before returning it to his notes.

I shook my head, eyes on the map, biting my bottom lip as I considered where to place the X.

I was not going to name my sister. There was no need. She was already on the Empire and Thalmor's wanted list. I'd probably only thought of her because she seemed to be inexplicably involved in all the unexpected twists and turns in my life.

"Farkas knows other women, of course, but Delphine is the most likely to have roused that response in him," I scratched a mark, uncertain if my guess was accurate. "And she is possibly the only person crazy enough, besides Stormcloak, to even consider attacking the Emperor."

"Did you see signs of Delphine in the room with the Emperor?" Arcturus tried through a slight, uncertain wince.

I shook my head and passed back the map and charcoal. "I saw the curtain move, and thought it was the wind."

"Right - right," the Captain shuffled and hastily glanced down to write some more. The scritch-scritch of his quill and the steady, impatient tap-tap of Rulindil's boot against the flags filled the small study-come-interview chamber for a few beats.

While he wrote his thoughts, I tried to organise mine. Delphine must have been behind the Emperor's assassination - but I didn't know enough about what was motivating her to determine what she might achieve by doing so.

But what if it was Giselle?

I schooled my expression into one of patience. If Farkas had sensed my sister - if she had murdered the Emperor and Alexis Vici - then it was possible she was back with Stormcloak. I wondered if the news of Onmund's elevation to Jarl had reached her, what choices she might regret or reconsider if she knew he was no longer under his father's thumb?

She probably already knew. If she had returned to Ulfric Stormcloak and was involved in these murders, this could all part of the war between Skyrim and the Empire. Or, it was possible he had assigned her this duty as a punishment for Onmund's defection. Onmund had said that Giselle had been punished, when either of them had acted out against his father's wishes.

To grapple with that terrifying thought, another crept into my mind; if Giselle had returned to Ulfric's side - where was Vilkas?

My heart twisted with worry. Unable to step down eitherpath in front of the Captain and Third Emissary, I broke in quickly. "Might I ask, Captain - what will happen now?"

Captain Arcturus tore his gaze from his notes.

"In what regard?"

"In general regards," I replied, not entirely sure of what I wanted to know, either. I just wanted to fill the silence so I wouldn't think about - other things. "How is…what are the Empire going to do?" I fumbled, sending the Third Emissary a swift, worried glance.

The Captain widened his eyes and cleared is throat; he glanced down thoughtfully, as though weighing what might be an acceptable reply.

Rulindil stepped in before him, pressing his fingers together. "Tamriel's monarchs are determined through a line of succession. The Elder Council will summon the next Emperor."

"No, I mean," I confirmed quickly. "What will the Empire do about the murderer?"

Rulindil allowed a small, thin smile to surface. "I understand, Lady Dragonborn. You needn't fear for your safety."

Captain Arcturus took over. "I will make recommendations to Commander Maro that you and your housecarl remain guests of the Blue Palace for the duration of our investigation."

My brows crossed in confusion. "Am I under arrest?" I whispered.

"On the contrary," the Captain drawled, crossing his arms. "You are a key witness. And you are under our protection until your shield-brother returns to resume his duty, and answer our questions."

I closed my mouth; my shoulders fell. Of course. They had to be certain Farkas would return, in case they didn't find the murderer themselves. "What about my Dragonborn duties?" I asked quietly, suspecting I already knew the answer.

"You will need to send others to complete those duties in your stead, for the moment," the Captain closed his notebook and stood, motioning toward the door. "Your Jarl will appreciate your support, during this most tumultuous of days," he suggested.

"Yes. Of course," I stood. "Let me know if…I can help," I added, because it felt like I should.

"Thank you, ma'am."

"We certainly will," the Third Emissary added with another small, thin smile.

I left the interview chamber and stopped in the hall, feeling disconnected from the world as I suppressed a shudder. My vision blurred, my thoughts clamoured, and behind the shock of the strangeness of the day was fresh guilt. I had just done as the Thalmor wished, and implicated Delphine, when I had no true idea if she had been the one to kill the Emperor.

The Thalmor were already looking for her. You honestly don't know where Delphine is. This changes nothing about her circumstances, and she does not deserve your protection.

I saw Hadvar sat on the bench by the door, and my thoughts quietened.

But Riverwood does.

His back was straight and fists were clenched on his legs, but when he caught the movement of my return he stood and hurried to my side.

"Are you all right?" he reached for me.

"I'm fine," I nodded, feeling suddenly close to tears as I grasped his hands. "I suppose it's your turn," I cleared my throat, trying to smile.

His gaze flickered to the room I had emerged from, to the closed door, his brows furrowing in frustration. "They will call me when they are ready. How did it go?" his eyes were back, full of worry. "Do they have any idea who did this?"

I wanted to give him a proper smile and speak freely, but there were Penitus Oculatus officers in the hallway, as well as Rulindil's own guards. "I'm not sure. The Captain is recommending Lydia and I remain here under their protection, until Farkas returns or the murderer is found."

Hadvar gave my hand another gentle squeeze. "Okay. Whatever they think best, under the circumstances," he said a little stiffly, clearly aware our every move was under observation. "I'm sure Farkas will return soon."

"And what about you?" I added, hesitant. "Will you be…confined to palace grounds with me?"

"I'll try, but…" he murmured, shook his head. "I'm sorry. I expect I'll be summoned soon to coordinate patrols. Even if I'm not assigned to a road block," he glanced to the ceiling. "The Empire will demand Stormcloak's head for this. I know the General well enough. He'll order we march on Windhelm."

My heart skipped a beat. "You believe Stormcloak did this?"

"Look, I don't know," Hadvar admitted quickly, shaking his head with an uncertain wince. "We have captured almost all of his territories in months. In hindsight, this entire…" he motioned toward me, "proposal. It…makes sense now that he was behind it," he drifted off regretfully.

I stared at him, letting his theory merge with the one I hadn't wanted to think about; that my sister had administered poison to the Emperor and Lord Vici. How she got into the palace aside, once in that room, she could have gained their trust by pretending to be me. Perhaps they had shared a toast to the impending union; the poison had been traced to their wine. Could Stormcloak have told the Empire about our ancestry to orchestrate their murders and destabilise Tamriel? How could he have known they would travel to Solitude to meet with me?

Perhaps it had always been his intention to take Cyrodiil via Giselle's heritage? Perhaps, with the Empire in chaos, he would legitimise their relationship, and make a claim for the seat of power in Tamriel?

I could feel the eyes of the Altmer soldiers on me, and made myself reply.

"He and Delphine were once friends," I felt hollow in saying it. "Perhaps they are working together again."

"Her again," Hadvar grimaced. "Why does it not surprise me to hear her name tangled with his? By the Gods, why didn't we consider this was a trap?" he hissed, gritting his teeth. "You could have been-!" he gripped my hand tighter and squeezed his eyes closed, lowering his head. "Celeste I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I was blinded by the prospect of losing you and I nearly did-"

"Stop," I urged quietly.

"No, I swore to protect you," he opened his eyes, a grey storm of anguish. "It's my job to assess and circumvent threats like this - and I led you straight here-"

"Hadvar, peace," I brought my free hand up to cradle his cheek, uncaring of who was watching anymore. "If I was under threat - you protected me. And - whoever did this - they fooled an entire Empire just to get to them."

"And to you," he corrected. "If Stormcloak is behind this…" he swallowed.

I tried to consider that I, also, had been a target - but my mind buzzed, blanking out most of everything. I had no doubt that Delphine would kill me, if it served whatever agenda she was operating under, but if Giselle had been the one to carry out the murders…could she have done it - could she have killed me? And for what? His favour?

To eliminate the competition for the throne.

With a bitter taste to my mouth, I shivered to dismiss the drama my mind was inventing. "Well…he failed," I whispered. This is not the time for wild stories. "I'm fine," I repeated with a fragile smile.

"Legate Reidarrson?"

Hadvar and I leaned back from one another and I turned to Captain Arcturus with a blinking stare.

His eyes were stern as they flickered between Hadvar and I. "A few questions for you, if you don't mind?" he motioned that Hadvar approach.

I frowned at the terseness - but the Captain was having the definition of a Bad Day, so I said nothing.

"Aye, sir," Hadvar sent me a swift, apologetic look and started to untangle our hands. "There is no need to wait for me. I'll find you, once this is done."

I opened my mouth to confirm.

"I'm afraid that won't be possible," the Captain interjected. "You've been requested at Castle Dour. You're to report to General Tullius as soon as we're done here."

I fixed Captain Arcturus with a stricken look; already? When had those orders come in? Nobody had entered the room since I had left; he must have known of the summons the entire time he had been talking to me.

"General Tullius is in Solitude?" I asked, wavering. "He must have the fastest horse in all of Skyrim," I managed with false levity.

"He is - and he does," the Captain replied seriously. His eyes flickered to our hands - our closeness. He added gruffly, "I'll…give you a minute to…say your goodbyes."

"Thank you."

"My thanks, Captain."

I turned to Hadvar and took his other hand in mine, trying to ignore the begrudging presences nearby.

"Um, right," Hadvar faltered with a swift glance around the hall. "I don't want to leave you," he murmured simply, truthfully.

Again, I tried to smile. "And I don't want you to go," I told him, words catching on the lump in my throat.

He clenched his eyes closed and let out a soft curse. "No. I can't leave you, not after this. I'll send a message to Castle Dour. Your safety is-"

"Paramount to the Empire's survival, the legends would have us believe," Rulindil finished smoothly. "I wholeheartedly agree, Legate Reidarrson."

As one, Hadvar and I turned to the Thalmor. He stood in the doorway to the interview chamber, his stiff, shadowy robes and presence looming in the small space.

He extended a long-fingered hand toward me. "I will personally ensure that Miss Passero's safety is not compromised, while you are otherwise engaged."

Hadvar's shoulders tensed, but his voice was smooth and authoritative. "My thanks, Third Emissary, but with due respect, I will make efforts to remain by my fiancee's side, also."

"But of course," Rulindil smiled knowingly. "The heart knows what it wants," he stepped forward, persistent hand offered, and Hadvar just stared at him.

Rulindil arched an eyebrow. "Best not keep the Captain waiting, hmm?" he prompted. "I will defend the Dragonborn, until you have made your appeal to your General."

He was almost snippy, and for Hadvar's protection, I extracted my hand and - unable to look at him as my heart shattered - I rest it on top of the Thalmor's hand. "Thank you, Third Emissary," I said quietly.

"Mm," Hadvar confirmed with a nod, and turned to me swiftly. "I will speak to the General," he said again.

I nodded, clamping down on my desire to beg him to stay. "Then I will see you soon," I managed.

He took a deep, shuddering breath and, with a final respectful nod to the Thalmor, marched into the interview chamber.

The door closed behind him, and Rulindil let out a small bark of a laugh, making me jump.

"Legionnaires," he tutted, his eyes gleaming with amusement. "However do you stand their insufferable proprieties?"

I felt my cheeks heat with indignation. "I would call it respect, Third Emissary."

"Yes," the Thalmor considered, turning us and walking at a casual strolling pace; his sentries followed us in silence. "I expect you would make excuses for him."

I considered, searching for a safe reply. "I intend to marry him," I settled with quiet resolve. "It is in our natures to make excuses for those we love."

"Perhaps for some," Rulindil confirmed obliquely, before he gave a little laugh, and shook his head.

I steeled myself and glanced ahead to keep from replying; the Altmer seemed determined to bait me into betraying something.

We turned down the corridor that would lead us back to the others, and it was a struggle to keep from rushing toward the audience chamber.

But before we reached it, the Thalmor turned his hand, gripped my wrist, and tugged me sharply in the opposite direction.

I sent him a swift glance. "Um. Sir, this isn't the way to-"

"Correct," the Altmer sent me a warning, sideways look.

My heart thudded in my chest. "But the Captain said - I'm to remain-" I hushed.

"And I promised your dear fiancee that your safety would be my priority," Ruldindil finished, arching an eyebrow. As he turned, his hold shifted, and his fingers closed around my forearm. A tiny, sharp object pricked against my wrist; another warning.

I paled, searching the abandoned hallway for help. "I told you everything-"

"Yes, my dear, and you did so beautifully," Rulindil smiled in the fond way one might look upon a pet who had learned a new trick. "Ever the little performer. And now I am going to ask you to perform for us again."

Unable to move for fear of whatever was at my wrist piercing me, I weighed my options. I could Fus or Feim and run; either Shout was an option, but then the Thalmor would pursue me - and possibly all I loved - relentlessly, for the rest of my days. I could scream - and take my chances that it wasn't deadly poison positioned over my vein. They couldn't question me if I was dead. Or…

"You're going to get caught," one of Rulindil's guards hissed in a very un-guardlike manner; the first words either had spoken. "Quit messing around."

My focus shot to the speaker; the tall, gold-skinned Altmer woman leant closer, her blue eyes narrowed as she held up a hand.

I just stared at her palm, wondering why she was showing it to me.

"Time for the easy way."

I opened my mouth to Feim but wasn't fast enough; the aquamarine glow of an illusion spell fogged my vision and the will to do anything fled.

"You have six minutes," the Altmer soldier hissed.

"More than long enough," Rulindil replied smoothly.

What was going on?

The sharp object was withdrawn and the Thalmor Emissary adjusted his hold, sliding my hand into the crook of his elbow. "Smile, Miss Passero. Do not speak," he murmured. "Walk with me."

I smiled. I did not speak. And I walked, led by the Thalmor, away from Jarl Elisif, and Lydia, and Hadvar, and anybody who could stop this from happening.

My mind screeched and clawed at the effects of the spell as my body moved without my permission toward the closed exit of the Blue Palace.

"Make way," the other Altmer guard, the one who hadn't cast a spell on me, said as we approached the exit, his voice deep and unimpressed.

The palace guards looked uncertain. "Lady Dragonborn?" one queried.

"For the Dragonborn's safety," Rulindil drew us up before them, "the Aldmeri Dominion will accommodate Miss Passero for the duration of the investigation," the Thalmor narrowed his eyes at the pair. "Or would you rather chance a third assassination attempt?" he menaced.

I continued smiling, even as the guards flickered me a glance.

Help, I screamed internally, but not even my eyes could convey a message through the spell.

"The Emissary gave you an order," the Altmer who'd cast the spell on me reminded in a low, grating tone.

The guards seemed unhappy about it, but opened the doors.

Rulindil swept us into the walled gardens, and the gilded soldiers followed closely, one step behind us. They made directly for the main road, bold and purposeful.

After a brief exchange with the guards at the gates, which went much the same as the one at the doors, I found myself being taken for a stroll down the main street of Solitude.

My cheeks ached as my smile persisted, and my brow itched as sweat formed and was chilled at once by the stiff breeze. It must have been late, for it was dark, and the streets were completely empty. The lanterns formed pools of orange on the cobbles, the only movement the swaying of darkened trees in the night, and our shadows as they fractured and reformed around us.

Without warning, Rulindil turned again, directing me off the road and into…

My eyes widened. Proudspire. My family's gardens. The place Giselle and I had grown up; the very place we had stumbled upon our mother, the night the Stormcloaks attacked.

The spell-casting Altmer soldier moved forward, tugging something out of her armour as she ascended the landing and pressed her hand to the door. There was a dull flare of purple from within the manor as the protective runes were disabled. She then proceeded to unlock the front door.

"Hurry," she whispered, flicking her head to usher the others inside.

With a thin-lipped, purposeful nod, Rulindil guided me inside my own house; the one place in Solitude I was not ready to return to.

After the other soldier followed us in, the door was re-locked and the security rune was reapplied.

Still only able to smile and follow instructions, I stared at my captors, internally resolved to Feim the moment the spell wore off, and run back to the Palace, to Hadvar, and disappear. It would have to wear off soon; she had said six minutes.

The spell-casting Altmer turned on the Third Emissary as soon as the purple glow protecting the doorway faded, her eyes narrowed.

"You bloody idiot."

"You were supposed to bribe the door guards," the other solider murmured, his tone unimpressed. "They've probably already reported our departure to Elisif."

"So let them run to their master and simper about the Thalmor taking the Dragonborn off Palace grounds," Rulindil drawled, guiding me to one of the hallway chairs. "Sit," he idled.

I sat.

"All the better if Maro sends the Oculatus to the Embassy," he continued to his companions, reaching into his robes and extracting something. "Open your mouth," he commanded.

I willed, begged my body not to obey, but it was still no use. The moment my mouth opened, it was filled with cloth, and the Altmer - but who was he, really? - tied another length of cloth around my head to secure it. I wanted to weep as the band was tightened around a gag that would prevent me from using my thu'um.

The soldier who had cast the spell knelt in front of me, and with a shake to her head, she tied my wrists together. "You have no elegance, Esbern."

Esbern, I repeated at once, mind scrabbling to place it, and the speaker, in the panic of capture. Why was that familiar - and why was this soldier's voice familiar?

"Someday you're going to get us all killed," she continued wryly with a testing tug at my bindings.

"You cannot deny that my methods yield results," Rulindil - Esbern - said in a self-important manner.

"We'll talk about results when this is over," the soldier stood and placed her fingertips on my forehead, eyes victorious. "Sleep now," she whispered. "You will understand, soon."

Absorbed in a cloud of dense, dark blue, sleep came at once.

—

When I woke, all was dark, and the world rolled and rocked in a way that told me I was on a cart. I tried to move, testing the bindings as panic slammed back into my mind, hard and fast. I tugged and tried to thrash, tried to scream. My hands were bound behind my back now, and my ankles were tied together and then clearly to something else, for I could barely move. My throat was dry; the gag was still in place. Something was over my head - a bag of some kind that let in no light whatsoever, and no amount of tossing loosened anything.

After a few more experimental tugs, my knees butted against something hard which gave a groggy grunt in reply, as though I had woken it.

I froze. So I was not alone.

There were a few more groans from the figure beside me, before a quiet rasp slurred, "Sister?"

I sobbed around my gag, tears of relief springing to my eyes. Farkas.

"They got you too, huh?"

While he spoke in a low, quiet rumble so we might not be heard, he sounded so unaffected by this turn of events that had I not been bound and gagged, I might have walloped him.

Something pressed against my knees; with with my vision obscured, I couldn't be certain what. Perhaps a booted foot; the only comfort he could offer.

"They drugged me hey, so I can't shift. But - soon as it wears off, I'll transform," he promised. "And you'll run, got it?"

Another sob left me, muffled by the gag, my relief at war. If they drugged Farkas - then they knew who he was, but - of course he wasn't worried. His power couldn't be suppressed forever. We could get out of this - whatever this was. Farkas would transform, remove my gag, and - I would make them regret they had ever tried to capture the Dragonborn, or my friend.

"At least we know who has Vilkas now, hey?" he tried for a chuckle. "Was kinda getting worried."

And he wasn't worried still? That made no sense, and I could only make a muffled sound of incredulity and think my confusion at him, in case his wolf senses could pick it up through the drug.

"Oh, okay," Farkas drawled. "Guess it's possible you didn't see them. It's your sister. The two working with her, I've heard her call them Etienne, and Esbern."

Farkas' tendency to make light of startling revelations never failed to stagger me, and I screamed with fury into my gag, the sound an echo of muffled noise. I should never have dismissed Giselle's involvement in this, this insanity. The murder of prominent figures - casting a spell on me, to make me compliant. The voice that I might have recognised. Even the swift appearance at the Palace in the wake of tragedy. It was all Giselle, this was signature Giselle, but she wasn't working with Stormcloak at all - she was with-

Just make sure you tell Esbern that they're coming for him, as soon as you're there.

She was with Etienne, from the Embassy, and the Esbern that he'd ratted out, and then been sent to warn.

One of our number. A Blade. An archivist, but during the War, Delphine had said.

And they had Vilkas, and were taking Farkas and I somewhere?

What more did the Blades want with me, and why in Shor's name had the Emperor died for it?

The carriage stopped moving, and I could only listen as boots crunched and squeaked in the snow, drawing closer by the beat. A metal hinge creaked, and through the sack over my head came pin-pricks of daylight.

"Rise and shine," the voice I had connected to Rulindil rumbled. "We're here."

A jangle of chains sounded, and Farkas punctuated it with a slurring, "Where?"

"In good time, Companion."

Hands landed on me, swung my legs over the edge of something rough and hard, and the sack was drawn up.

I squinted at the brightness of the midday sun. My breath misted before my eyes as I breathed through my nostrils. In front of me stood - not Rulindil of course, for the spell altering his appearance had worn off. This older, patiently-smiling Nord was barely shorter than the Altmer and bald, with tired, knowing eyes of palest grey. A white beard and moustache crowded his mouth in disarray.

Esbern.

"Apologies for the, hmm," Esbern motioned toward the gag.

I lifted my eyebrows. Then un-gag me, I wanted to say, but at a loss for being able to speak, I turned my eyes to the form beside me.

Farkas was sitting in a similar position to me; his wrists were bound behind his back, his ankles bound in front of him, and a sack was obscuring his face, crumpled limply around his neck.

The man I had last seen in a Thalmor torture chamber stepped around the side of the cart and tugged the bag off Farkas' head. "What is it with twins, hey?" he mused in an all-too-friendly manner.

Farkas growled, but Etienne merely laughed. "About as vocal as the other one, too. C'mon. I'll take you to your brother."

"I'm not leaving her," Farkas drawled, his words slurred.

"Yeah, I wasn't asking," Etienne replied, as though he and Farkas were sharing a joke. He untied my shield-brother's ankles and hauled him down. Farkas' boots squeaked as they were buried in inches of fresh snow.

I couldn't do anything but watch as Farkas was hauled away. My addled shield-brother tried to lunge at the Breton once, but his movements were so sluggish, Etienne easily dodged him.

Esbern lifted me down from the cart next, and I winced as my delicate slippers formed no barrier against the frozen mush. The dress clung to my legs, collecting snow as I was directed after the other two. I looked around, taking in where we had been brought. Sharp, peaked mountains rose in jagged formation, the few horizontal surfaces in high demand, clogged with snow, dotting the sheer grey with clumps of white. The cart we'd been transported on had been half-parked underneath a wintery willow, its branches void of foliage, and the horse that had led it, also white, stood by a frozen water trough, staring at its own reflection.

It was then I caught sight of my sister; a brightness against the monotone landscape in the shining Elven armour of her disguise. Her long, dark tresses wound down the centre of her back in a braid.

She stood with her hands on hips, her voice raised as she argued with…Delphine.

Of course Delphine is here, I supplied, glowering at the woman in the distance. She and Esbern were all that remained of their order.

Then why had Esbern - as Rulindil - been so determined for me to implicate Delphine in the murders? Simply to stick it to the Penitus Oculatus who had replaced them as the Emperor's bodyguards? Or was there more to this - was this some obtuse show of allegiance to their beloved Septim dynasty?

"Let me get this straight," Delphine closed her eyes, rubbing her temple as Etienne drew Farkas and Esbern drew me to a halt, behind my sister. "You compelled…and then bound and gagged the Dragonborn?"

"It was legitimately the only way to retrieve her," Giselle shrugged.

"You didn't think to, I don't know, ask her? Appeal to her sense of reason?"

"There was hardly time for a cup of tea and a little chat."

"And I see we now have a matched pair," Delphine raised her hand in exasperation at Farkas. "Now two werewolves are pissed off with you."

"That I couldn't help," Giselle defended swiftly, pointing a finger at the older Breton woman. "He came after me, just like the other one. I couldn't exactly kill him and leave him in a ditch, she'd never forgive me for that."

Delphine ground out a sound of frustration and waved toward Etienne. "Put him with the other one."

With a roar of frustration and a roll to his shoulders, Farkas managed to throw Etienne off. "I'm not leaving Celeste!" he bellowed.

"Gods, we're not going to hurt her," Giselle wrinkled her nose in distaste and, with an idle flick of her wrist, cast the light blue spell over him; the same one that had made me compliant. "That's enough of that," she muttered.

"Thanks," Etienne laughed, grabbing hold of the docile Farkas' wrist bindings. "Er - walk, please."

I made a sound of protest and struggled against Esbern's hold - I could really do no more - and Giselle finally turned to me, met my eye.

She hadn't looked upon me properly since the strangeness we had shared at the Thalmor Embassy, and I found all manner of uncertainties and regrets in her sea-blue gaze, bolstered by her familiar haughtiness. I held her gaze, pushing my indignation, my fury toward her through my eyes. How dare she cast compulsion spells on me, on my beloved shield-siblings - how dare she do any of what she had done?! And to think I had felt sorry for her while I'd been in Winterhold!

"Hello again, Celeste," Delphine murmured.

I couldn't take my eyes off my sister, and in turn she inspected me with a worried expression, lowering her hand as the blueness of the spell faded. "You have no reason to believe me, but I'm actually really sorry about this. There's something you have to see, and we couldn't wait any longer."

What choice do I have, I shook my head in disgust.

Giselle huffed a shaky breath and turned her attention to Delphine. "I want this over with. Show her."

"That is why she's here."

Lifting my gaze to the Breton Blade, I caught the flicker of triumph in her eyes before a wall slammed down, rendering her expressionless. "Come on."

She beckoned then turned, entering a dark cavern behind her. My sister shook her head, at herself it seemed, and followed her.

Esbern prompted me forward, his hands still holding my wrist bindings.

"Welcome to Karthspire, Dragonborn," he murmured with reverence. "I've waited a long, long time, to say those words."

—

Beyond the winding cavern was a deep valley open to the elements, its floor carpeted with snow bearing only the track marks of Etienne and Farkas before us. More sheer, grey cliffs rose high above, held in place by square pillars of stone, permitting a sliver of blue sky and weak sunlight to form its roof. To one side, an ancient, crumbling staircase rose toward an equally ancient-looking, crumbling ruin.

No explanation was offered to the ruin's origins, and I could only wonder that it did not collapse upon and bury us. The ruin seemed more ancient than any Nordic ruin I had ever encountered, though admittedly, I had not delved into many.

After being guided around fallen pillars and ancient tombs, Delphine eventually stopped, and glanced over her shoulder.

"Your turn."

Giselle stepped past the Blade and crouched over a spiral etched into the ground, and with a flick of her wrist, withdrew a dagger and sliced at her palm.

My eyes widened as she calmly lifted her hand and squeezed, so a drop of blood splattered on the central disc of the spiral design.

And before her, a stone wall - no, a face, carved into the stone wall, slid aside.

Again, I was offered no explanation, and simply guided into a staircase, lit by a tall brazier just inside the entrance. We ascended the wide, spiralling stairs, and emerged in a vast chamber wrought of grey stone, seemingly as old as the mountain itself. The walls and floors were cracked in places and tumbled in others, prey to the passage of time and movement of eras. Sunlight streamed into the hall from skylights, high above.

It lit the entire room, but was focussed on the wall to the far right, which Delphine and Giselle turned immediately towards. Esbern directed me after them.

As we drew nearer, the shapes of dark and light resolved into forms, and I realised the length of the wall contained an elaborate carving. Its design became more distinct the closer we drew. Cities on fire. Death. Dragons. And - a warrior.

"So," Giselle announced in a whisper. "This is Alduin's Wall."

I checked her expression, for she sounded almost reverent. Her focus remained on the wall for a fraction longer, before she sent me a faltering glance. "Can you read what it says?" she asked quietly.

Turning my eyes back to the carving, I noticed the small series of scratches under the depiction. It was dragon tongue, but the type created and written by man. I shook my head.

"No matter," Esbern spoke up, quietly thoughtful, before clearing his throat. "Allow me:

"When misrule takes its place at the eight corners of the world,

When the Brass Tower walks and Time is reshaped,

When the thrice-blessed fail and the Red Tower trembles,

When the Dragonborn Ruler loses his throne, and the White Tower falls,

When the Snow Tower lies sundered, kingless, bleeding,

The World-Eater wakes, and the Wheel turns upon the Last Dragonborn."

With a weighty sigh, as though reading the words had tired him, there was a snick, and Esbern untangled my binds. "Look upon it. Go to it and touch it," he urged. "This is the Prophecy of the Dragonborn, laid out by the ancient Akaviri Dragonguard of Reman Cyrodiil. It will tell you how to defeat the World-Eater."

My shoulders relaxed as I rubbed at my aching wrists for a moment, then lifted my hands to the knot at the back of my head. When none of my captors tried to stop me, I pulled the gag away and worked my stiff jaw up and down to free its movement.

"Do you have any water?" I rasped across a dry throat.

Delphine made a hmph sound, her shoulders tense as she passed me a water skin. "What does the Wall tell you?" she persisted.

Ignoring her, I drank, and drank, the cool water a relief on my aching mouth. When I stoppered the skin, she asked again, and I stared at her in doubt. There was no glow, no Word of Power to be learned from this wall. I nodded toward the panels. "You kidnapped us to show me…an artwork."

"Look closer," Delphine urged in a flat tone. "This is no mere artwork."

"Here," Giselle tried, stepping forward to run her hands over the helmeted face of the warrior. "The carvings coming from the Dragonborn look like ropes, rising up to ensnare Alduin," she glanced over her shoulder, finding me. "It shows how you'll defeat him."

I said nothing, wondering when and how my sister had come to care about Alduin at all, for all her efforts thus far had been centred on…the civil war. No, further back than that - her dreams. The dreams that had terrified her so much, she had convinced Stormcloak she should remain in Windhelm in Onmund's place, while his son went to the college.

Had her dreams shown her something new, something about Alduin himself?

I tried to clear the persistent rasp from my throat, and approached the carving that supposedly foretold of a final meeting between Alduin, and the Dragonborn.

Last Dragonborn.

That boded well.

It was a carving, made by an artist who wanted to tell a dramatic story. You would do the same in song, were you commissioned to do so.

I drew to a halt beside my sister and brushed my hands over the warrior. They looked nothing like me; tall, broad, wearing plated armour similar to Delphine's, holding a shield to block fire bursting down for all of time from an enormous, striking dragon. There was no mistaking him; Alduin seemed to blur around his edges, transitioning into the borders of the design, as though the artist hadn't been able to fit the extents of his presence, his influence, into the carving. The strands of stone Giselle had mentioned, up close, seemed to be more like ocean waves, or tree roots, or even air currents, flowing from the Last Dragonborn to circle the World Eater. The strands originated from the warrior's mouth.

What a revelation, I thought dryly.

I turned on my captors and met Esbern's curious gaze before anyone else's. "It's just a Shout."

"Yes," Esbern's lips curled upward. "But of course, only a Shout, the right Shout, will defeat him."

"Nothing about this carving suggests Alduin is being defeated at all," I turned back to it, indicating the carving's length. "The words you spoke told of him waking, and the Shout in the design is binding him, nothing more. See the edges?" I brushed my hand over ancient stone, across one of the many places Alduin seemed to blur. "The dragon returns to the earth here, and," I motioned toward the far right of the design, "he becomes a tree, and the sky, there," I indicated the top, and shook my head. "Alduin is the son of Akatosh. He cannot be killed," I admitted to them, to myself. "And this carving proves it. The Shout returns him to his true purpose, to continue the infinite cycle of rebirth. It doesn't kill him."

Giselle shot a worried look the Blade's way as Delphine made a sound of frustration.

"Are you still convinced, after all you have experienced and after seeing this, that your duty is to save the Talos-forsaken dragons?" she grit out.

"Yes," I turned, eyes pinning her where she stood with clenched fists. "If there is anything I am certain of about what being Dragonborn means, it is that I was not meant to kill dragons and absorb their souls."

"How are you so certain?" Giselle asked, less zealous, more curious.

I turned to stare at her. How in Shor's name had she become allied with Delphine? "Take me to my shield-brothers."

Her face fell, her expression flat. "They're fine."

"Your people and mine have very different notions of what is fine," I insisted. "Take me to my shield-brothers."

"Take her," Esbern supported gravely. "Once she has confirmed they are unharmed, she may be more willing to meditate on the meaning of the prophecy."

Giselle lifted her eyebrows at me, and I neither confirmed nor denied. This was not a negotiation.

With a sigh she turned away, but I still caught her eye roll. "Fine," with a tight movement, she motioned I follow.

Esbern and Delphine remained unmoving in the hall as my sister and I retreated, but began talking in tight, low voices as soon as I was too far away to make out what they said.

My blood boiled as I stared daggers at my sister's back so I wouldn't turn and Shout the two Blades into Oblivion; all that held me back was concern for Farkas and Vilkas; if I didn't play nice, I might never find them. I seethed as Giselle led me down the aged spiral stairs and through the still-open face carving door. How dare they behave like this, kidnapping people and justifying it with dogma?

How dare they ask me to bend my Dragonborn abilities to suit their agenda?

—

Giselle led me on a path through the labyrinth of tunnels and ancient structures that I assumed had been built to intentionally confuse those unfamiliar with its passages. Eventually she guided me across a courtyard, and I swallowed my gape as I looked upon the outside of the structure.

Either carved from the mountain, or constructed in a way to look like it had grown in place, sweeping roof arches towered high above us, disappearing into puffs of cloud that clustered around the mountain peak.

The scene did not seem to interest Giselle at all, who merely continued walking across the open expanse.

I doubled my step to walk beside her, instead of a pace behind her. "What is this place?" I asked.

Giselle's tone was quiet and face expressionless, her eyes fixed on her path. "Sky Haven Temple."

"That tells me nothing. Who built it?"

"Ask Esbern," she dismissed.

I scrunched my nose, considering. How could she be so…so detached?

"I met Onmund," I said with a sigh. "He told me what you did to save him."

She slowed to a stop. A furrowed look turned on me, openly confused. "What?"

"Your dreams," I admitted with a small nod, desperate for some kind of reaction. "Onmund told me about them. About how you remained with Stormcloak, in Onmund's place, so you could save him."

"Why would he tell you that?" she asked in a quiet tone, betraying only a smidgen of wary restraint.

"Because I asked him to?" I posed, lifting my eyebrows.

"No - I mean," Giselle pursed her lips, then considered, shaking her head. "It doesn't matter. Onmund does not owe me loyalty after all I put him through."

It was as though she was reminding herself, and with a sigh to the mountaintop, she resumed walking.

I fell into step beside her again. "Oh, he's loyal to you," I pressed. "I think he's still in love with you, even after what happened between his father and you."

Giselle's hands tensed into fists either side of her, and her pace quickened. "Are we really going there, Celeste?"

I offered a shrug, remembering something Lydia had told me. "Not if you don't want to talk about it. It's none of my business."

Giselle let out an incredulous, largely soundless laugh. "You're damn right it's not."

I wasn't certain of how to answer that without escalating into argument, and we fell into silence, only the sound of our boots crunching across gravel and snow for company.

In truth I was bursting to know what exactly was going on with my sister, why she had made the decisions she had made, but we had long ago fallen out of the habit of sharing, and I didn't know how to breach the gap any more. And why did I feel this burning desire to know the truth, anyway? It wasn't as though I could change the past by knowing.

Because you want justification to vindicate her of all she has done.

I huffed at myself, tickling my nose with a little puff of white that clouded before me. I was an idiot. My sister had betrayed our family, tricked me, impersonated me, kidnapped me, hurt people I cared about, killed people, and I still wanted to find an excuse for it all. I wanted to save her.

I wanted my sister back, and admitting it roused a thick guilt that closed around my throat and squeezed, because it was clear that she did not want me. She had killed the Emperor. Delphine had been here, at Sky Haven Temple; Farkas had sensed Giselle in that room.

It was a move made by a woman who either believed she had no choice, or already understood that there was no going back to a normal life anyway.

I shivered and stopped in my tracks, chilled to the bone. "I'm sorry," I whispered.

"No," Giselle didn't even hesitate. "You're not going to trick me into-"

"Shut up and let me apologise," I cut her off through a teary laugh. "I'm sorry about your dreams. I'm sorry if you felt alone."

Giselle stopped in the snow and lifted her face to the sky, taking a long, measured breath. "What do you expect me to say to that?"

"Nothing," I continued quietly, closing the space so I stood beside her once more. "When Onmund told me about your dreams - I was just really sad that I hadn't realised something was wrong."

Giselle remained still, and silent. Her eyes gently closed, and her breaths became deeper. She was working hard to centre herself.

I pressed on. "We thought you were happy, away at college. But you were," I swallowed, and reconsidered. "It must have been terrifying. So…I'm sorry that I wasn't…smart enough to realise you were in trouble."

After another slow, measured breath, Giselle nodded and opened her eyes to the heavens. "It's okay," once again, her voice was quiet, and flat. "You're not a mind reader. I didn't want you to know."

She started walking again toward a small, doorless stone entryway on one of the ancient mountainside structures that gaped like a mouth ready to gobble us up.

I hastened after her, telling myself to accept that she didn't want to talk. The apology had been for her; to press her to give me more would make it about me.

Giselle hesitated in the doorway, her fingers curled around ages-old stonework. She remained still for long enough that I turned to look at her curiously.

Her eyes were on the pathway. "Is he okay?" she whispered.

I didn't need confirmation of who, and nodded. "He's a Jarl now."

Giselle's sea-blue gaze shot to meet mine, and she frowned, confused. "I don't understand. If Ulfric legitimised his bastards, he's still not the eldest son."

I shook my head. "He's the new Jarl of Winterhold, appointed by the Imperial army when they took the region."

My sister drew a sharp breath. "Why would he agree to that? Ulfric will kill him."

"The Empire will protect him," I assured quietly. "And Mersten. He made her his steward."

Giselle covered her mouth and turned away, making a sound that fell between a sob and a laugh. She found her feet and hurried into the dark, empty chamber, and I hurried after her.

"And he does still love you," I told her plainly.

She uttered another laugh, this one small and desperate as she implored to the high, peaked ceiling. "You assume too much."

"I know what I saw," I shrugged.

"Even so," Giselle countered quietly, stopping beside a trapdoor, her eyes staring at the handle, and somewhere far beyond it. The corner of her mouth curled into a wry sort of smile, and she brushed her palm across her forehead, perhaps in weariness, before reaching for the trapdoor handle.

"I cannot love him."

I watched her carefully for a beat as she lifted the door and let it clunk gently on the flags around it. "You gave him mother's ring."

My sister stilled. "He wears it?"

"Yes."

Giselle nodded slowly, staring into the shadows beneath. She brought her hand forward in a slow, fluid arc, and a ball of white light gathered in her palm. "Your shield-siblings are down here," she spoke, stilted. "They were our insurance that you would come, to see the prophecy. Once they…" she hesitated. "Feel up to it, we can arrange to take them to Markarth, though they will need to agree to wear blindfolds that far. They can make their own way from there."

I frowned at the sudden change, and the reminder that they had been drugged. "And what about me?"

Giselle stood, leaving the ball of whiteness behind to light up the stairs. "You are your own woman," she met my gaze finally, and I caught the spark of fear behind her confidence. "You looked upon Alduin's wall, heard what Esbern had to say, and you didn't Shout us to pieces," she admitted quietly. "Go wherever your duty takes you."

It felt like a trap, and I narrowed my eyes at the stairs, brightly lit near the top, but swiftly descending into shadow. "And you?" I murmured to the darkness. "Will you remain here with Delphine?"

Giselle huffed. "Where else is left for me to go?"

"Oh, I don't know," I glanced up as resolution settled in my gut. "You're pretty good with magic, though obviously we'd have to set some…boundaries. No more kidnapping, obviously. And we're going to have to discuss what the Emperor's life had to do with any of this," I waved my hand around the building we were in vaguely.

"What are you talking about?" my sister scoffed a little nervously.

"You could come with me," I proposed. "Help me search for this Elder Scroll. Maybe save the world."

Her eyes widened and she took a step back, as though I had threatened to attack her. "You think you can save me?" she whispered in horror.

"I'd like to try."

A/n: So, hi, this chapter is way overdue. In the months since I posted the last I've grown to love a couple of new fandoms, so started some new writing projects, and I had to really step back and think about this story, about how long it's becoming for Celeste to go where she has to go, and as a result about 5000 words were cut from this chapter (of Celeste in Solitude, under house arrest and bonding some more with Elisif, and training with Lydia, before the Thalmor arrived). I'm committed as ever to completing this, someday, even as the chapter frequency slows down (as is inevitable in larger-form fanfic, or so I have read, though I still want to apologise to the loyal readers who have stuck with me this entire rambling journey and are waiting for months between posts. I really wish I could get this story out a whole lot faster than it's coming).