A/N: In this chapter, I continue to take a cannon to ES canon, and retcon the Nightingales, Frey's betrayal, and retool the Skyrim Thieves' Guild in general.
Yeah, the armor's nice and all, but at least the Oblivion Thieves' Guild quests made sense.
That's all, move along citizen.
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Chapter 23:
Loyalty and Honor
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26 Rain's Hand, 4E200
Training Hall, The Cisterns, Riften
Guildmaster Mercer Frey
Mercer was a patient man.
Personally, he thought this was why Karliah, the Voice of Nocturnal, made him the Guildmaster of the Thieves' Guild over Brynjolf after the last Guildmaster, Gallus Desidenius, got himself killed. It wasn't like Mercer was going to do something as stupid as Gallus did, to keep the Guild's books out of the red; that, and only cavalier idiots or Heroes tried to trick a Daedric Prince. Only Heroes lived through things like that, and the trickery still usually ended up in the Prince's favor, especially where Nocturnal was concerned.
Not that it mattered, in Gallus' case, or in the present. Mercer had much more important things to worry about.
Like that sixteen-times-damned bowlegged cunt Maven Black-Briar.
"Customs?" he sourly repeated one of the words Brynjolf just said to him. "Does she even have the authority?"
Brynjolf looked just as disgusted as Mercer felt, "Even if she doesn't, it's not like the Jarl will say anything about it. Nevermind that the bitch is keeping the payments up, we're the Thieves' Guild. Those Dwemer artifacts, to say nothing of the coin, won't be coming out of Maven's vaults… unless," a shrewd look appeared in his eye, one that Mercer never liked seeing, "we could rob her back-"
"Oh yes, I see that going real well, Brynjolf." Vex put her two drakes in sarcastically, "With how livid that wench is these days, I don't doubt she'll have the Jarl clear us out before sundown, if we go and rob that fortress pretending to be Black-Briar's manor."
A sigh went through the gathered leaders of the Guild; except Mercer. He just pinched the bridge of his nose and tried, once again, to think of a way out from under Black-Briar's thumb. And not yell at Brynjolf for trying to pitch another hair-brained scheme that could get them all killed; he loved the man like a brother, but it was times like these that Mercer really saw why he was Guildmaster instead of Brynjolf. If the other man was in charge, Maven would've had them all killed inside a week, and that's if the Guild was lucky.
It was another headache left behind by that bastard Gallus, the arrangement with Maven. Sure, the Guild needed a safe base of operations, but what the idiot was thinking, going to Riften and Black-Briar; neither entity even approached Mercer's lowest qualifier for "safe"… though, admittedly, the Ratway was fairly safe from the random Thalmor patrols, if more than a bit putrid. Nevertheless, he was of the opinion that, if Riften was "safe", what was wrong with holing up in a Dwemer ruin or abandoned Barrow? Either would be safer, and even came with premade traps!
But nooo, Gallus didn't want to listen to Mercer, or Karliah, and look where it got him: killed over a glass of sujamma.
And now, half the take from Blackreach was sitting nice and cozy in Black-Briar's fancy fucking estate up the valley, all because that ankle-biting fuckwit Maul had people looking out for Brynjolf, Delvin and that girl Sapphire returning with salvage. If it wouldn't get him killed inside a month – because like fuck he'd just stand there and let Black-Briar kill him – he'd go off and re-break Maul's ugly jaw for being a limp-dicked little snitch.
'Customs, my hairy ass.' Mercer thought in anger, before finally letting out a sigh of his own and continuing the meeting of the Guild's top membership, "Nothing we can do now but look to the next job. Speaking of," he sent a questioning look Delvin's way…
Who snorted, "Yeah, she asked us to rob the Beekeeper again. 'Cept this time, she was really drunk."
"Probably angry about Khepri snapping up Honningbrew," Brynjolf chuckled darkly, to the agreement of his fellow leaders. Second best thing the one-armed girl ever did, in Mercer's opinion. Black-Briar's mead was giving Skyrim's traditional beverage a bad enough reputation without some other halfwit trying to make it shittier. "You did tell her no, right?"
"Course I did, I'm not an idiot." Delvin gave his fellow Nord an 'are you crazy' look. "Sides, even if we managed to rob her of something valuable, what good would it do Maven or the Guild? Nothin', that's what."
"Would give us a little coin, after hocking a medal or some such," Vex said thoughtfully, before scoffing, "Might even manage to use the coin to drink yourself to death before Khepri shows up for your hide."
"That or her Houscarl." Mercer grumbled; of all the stewards in Skyrim, it just had to be the Sword-Maiden, one of the most vigilant knights in the whole province. "So, that leaves the jobs in Falkreath and the Reach; no shortage of work there, I take it?"
Just because they were swimming in a good bit of coin and coming off a high from the Muster didn't mean they could get lazy, after all. For one thing, they were thieves, and for another, it was less coin than Mercer had expected – fucking Maul – so…
"I put Sapphire on the Reach, with a few of the greener scamps," grinned Brynjolf, "The lass proved herself in Blackreach, and on the road back. Her orders are to fleece whatever she can get away with without getting on the Jarl's or Legion's radar; as for the Forsworn, they're keeping well clear of Markarth and the surrounding area, so they shouldn't be a problem."
"And if they become a problem?" challenged Vex.
Brynjolf shrugged, "Sapphire will make sure they stop being a problem; she's honestly faced worse. We've got weekly dead-drops set up for reports, too, so even if she runs into trouble it'll be easy to get word to me so I can send some mercs, add a little muscle to her operation. Last I heard from her, she's having her boys and girls stakeout the silver mines, get an idea of what the security's like; personally, I actually feel a little bad for what's about to happen to the Silver-Bloods' pockets." That got him a round of raised eyebrows; he chuckled, "Just a little."
"Okay, so we're good on the Reach front." Mercer nodded in acceptance, then turned to Delvin, "What of Falkreath?"
Delvin sighed explosively, rubbing his bald head in frustration, "It's a bust, boss. A new bandit group moved in and killed all the Pinewatch and Shriekwind folk. They got the numbers and the brawn to take the capital, I'm sure, but it seems they're content to act like garden-variety bandits; they don't kill when they shakedown travellers for 'tolls', but I don't think the Jarl appreciates kidnappings in his hold. Might have a few of the warbands what ran from Khepri, when she set up shop over in South Pale."
Mercer squinted; kidnappings never boded well, and he said so, adding, "Do you know who's in charge of this new group?"
"Yeah, and you're not gonna like it, Mercer." Vex spat to the side, "It's Sinding, the Wolf of Falkreath."
It took two seconds for Mercer to remember just who that was; when he did, he groaned, mostly in anger.
Sinding was the type of Werewolf who gave all other followers of Hircine a bad name; wanted from Cheydinhall to Markarth, the immoral bastard had enough crimes to his name to earn the block a hundred times over. Murder, cannibalism, arson, pedophilia- if it wasn't for his condition as a Werewolf, one could mistake the insane asshole as a follower of Namira, so revolting was he; there wasn't an organization in Tamriel who didn't want the fucker dead, Mercer was sure of it.
All the same, "Good job not getting into a fight with them. We don't need his type deciding to take a cross-country trip to Riften. You made sure to let Karliah know- good; don't want her shrine going the way of Meridia's." Thinking about possible solutions to this latest bad news, he added, "See if you can swing a meeting with the Harbinger or the Grand Proven; we're not the sort to take on whole bandit camps, but either of those two old madmen will be positively giddy to hear the Legion let that fucker slip back into Skyrim."
"And nick whatever we can find while they work?" the bald man asked with a greedy look in his eyes.
"Of course," Mercer scoffed, "Just because we'll only shoot an arrow here or there doesn't mean we're about to stop being thieves. And speaking of which," he turned an incredulous look on Brynjolf, "Who the hells is 'Imp' and why are you nominating them as an honorary member of our Guild?"
Delvin coughed into a fist, getting a confused look from Vex; as for Brynjolf, he got a look on his face that Mercer really didn't like, as it implied some form of mischief was afoot. Mercer was a businessman; he didn't have time for mischief.
"She's, ah, one of Khepri's Chaurus Hunters, Mercer."
…what.
"See, at first I thought she was an odd one, or it was just Khepri expressing her more whimsical side through one of the Chaurus. Then I noticed other things, like how she could sneak around a camp where all the guards were high-strung, doing little things to keep people's morale up-"
"How the fuck does that translate to making a Chaurus an honorary member of the Guild?" was Mercer's very tense hint that Brynjolf should get to the godsdamn point before he got shived.
But it wasn't Brynjolf who answered; instead, it was a green-scaled Argonian woman with pierced horns, wearing a black and gold brocade dress, who walked into the room while talking matter-of-factly.
"Reason he's doin' it is because that particular Chaurus stole the most intact banners in Blackreach, to say nothing of the armor and rare coin she made off with, though the biggest prize was a commemorative round depicting the defeat of the Tongues and the Nord exile from Skyrim in 1E416- girl, if you don't point that dagger somewhere else, I'll shave you bald with it." The Argonian stared boredly at the glass knife Vex was pointing at her muzzle.
It was about this moment Mercer, whose hand was on his own sword, noticed the pendant on the lizard's chest: it was a diamond-studded 'Guild' Shadowmark pendant, and it was enchanted… as were the mystery woman's robes.
"Who are you, and how did you get in here?" Mercer asked hotly, though a worm of doubt was starting to crawl through his thoughts, something Karliah mentioned over drinks some time ago-
"I am Meeirat, Grandmaster of Tamriel's Thieves Guild, and Most Favored of the Daedric Princes Nocturnal and Clavicus Vile. Charmed," replied the impossible Argonian, who was suddenly twirling Vex's dagger right in front of the stunned woman's eyes. Mercer hadn't seen her take it; and if he didn't see it, he doubted Delvin or Brynjolf saw it either.
"How…" Vex looked between her hand and the self-proclaimed Grandmaster of the Guild, who Mercer now recognized as the fucking Nerevarine, "What… why…?"
"And just why should we believe that claim?" Brynjolf challenged.
"Because she's telling the truth," Mercer said hoarsely, slowly taking his hand off the hilt of his sword, explaining for his fellows, "Karliah told me about her. Most Favored of two Princes doesn't cover a fraction of what this woman is."
"Quite." Meeirat replied, tossing Vex's dagger at an archery target, some ten meters away; it sank into the bull's eye up to the hilts. "Though my other titles aren't coming into play here, as they're not necessary for this kind of visit."
"That's a relief, Grandmaster." Mercer nodded, slapping Brynjolf's arm with the back of his hand; his fellow Nord sheathed the blade in his hand, though not without a grumpy expression. Once that was done, Mercer asked Meeirat neutrally, "I would very much like having my Guild remain intact, and wasn't planning on it being destroyed this eve. Regardless, what can Riften do for you, ma'am?"
"You can start by explaining why you're dancing to the tune of a Thalmor bootlicker. I believe she calls herself 'Black-Bitter' or some ridiculous Nord name?"
…Mercer suddenly felt the need to exhume the previous Guildmaster's corpse and pass it off to a necromancer, so he could yell at Gallus, then kill him in a horrible fashion; like feeding him to a troll, or Khepri's Chaurus.
"That's news to me, ma'am," Mercer replied through gritted teeth, though his expression might've been mistaken for a grin as he continued, "Happily, it also means we're no longer in her service, officially or unofficially. See, we have a rule about Thalmor around here; to sum up, it's like this: anything theirs is public property. Extending that to Maven Black-Briar will be a simple matter, though we'll need new lodgings first, so we can escape any retaliation from that insane bitch…"
Two hours of 'shop talk' later, the Grandmaster left through a teleport, and the four senior members of the Thieves Guild retired to the Ragged Flagon – where all the remaining members of the Guild were strewn over tables and the floors, knocked unconscious – so they could get very drunk.
The good news was that they were no longer under Maven's thumb, would have a Dwemer ruin a ways away from Riften to hole up in – after a month, during which it would be cleared by Vex and two volunteers – and the Grandmaster wouldn't be sticking around to micromanage anything; in the Argonian Nerevarine's own words, "I don't really wanna kill half of you just because you did something against the Guild's rules; this isn't the 3rd Era, after all."
The bad news? They'd been tasked to rob Khepri of something valuable that she wouldn't miss, to prove they were still worth being called a Guild branch.
Mercer Frey didn't panic, even though his fellows were on the verge of tears; he would be patient, and, Gods willing, the Guild would get out of this whole mess with their heads on their shoulders, if not smelling like roses…
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Heljarchen Hall, Weynon Glades
Imp
The Crafty and Intelligent She Who The Queen Named Imp was, like much of her time since the Queen's arrival, overjoyed by current events.
This was strange to her, as it was strange and new to all the Chaurus, though no less exciting; much of their personality and feelings were always at the mercies of the Hive Mind. Individual thought-speech and feeling was the province of the Hunters, as the humans called their childish forms. To become totally individual – to each learn and experience on their own – that was not the way of the Chaurus. All experience, thought, and feeling was a shared thing among the Chaurus.
So the Reaper always told them, and those who came before them, so it would be in the cold of Frostflow.
And yet, the Hunters felt individual, did this very un-Chaurus thing whether they liked it or not. Imp could remember, with exacting clarity, the moment she ceased to be a common and became something more in the Hive Mind.
She could also remember that moment being tainted by the Reaper ordering her to [obey]…
But Imp, though she had yet to be named at the time, didn't want to obey. The Hive Mind was a sea of shared experiences, and Imp could hear her brothers and sisters chafing under the rule of the Reaper. They were [displeased] by its orders, which told them to serve the Chaurus' longtime masters and torturers, the Falmer.
So, when she left her pupa as a Hunter, Imp fled to the upper halls of Frostflow, where the Reaper's voice was said to be quieter.
It wasn't much nicer: the Falmer, in the brief time she was captured by them, mutilated her shell and antennae so she would have trouble connecting to the Hive Mind. Imp was still a Hunter, though, and managed to escape, and hid herself in the small tunnels and caves far from the floor that were out of reach to the Falmer. And so, she watched, for a time she didn't know how to count, as the hissing, shrieking creatures kidnapped other beings that walked on two legs but fought the Falmer. The Falmer either fed them to the Chaurus, or ate them themselves… or worse.
Imp wanted to help, to stop the Falmer and kill the Reaper and find another way – many of her fellows felt the same, even if they couldn't break free of the Reaper's orders. [serve] the Falmer, or die; these were the choices presented to the Chaurus.
For so long, Imp lurked in the shadows, stealing food and moving objects, for the Falmer could get angry, and sometimes killed each other in their rage when the item they were looking for wasn't where it was supposed to be. Especially the shinies.
For a time, Imp thought this would be her whole life, until she either made a mistake or the Reaper sent another Hunter to find her.
And then, one moment… she came to them.
Khepri.
The Queen.
She was not of the Chaurus, did not have their form, but all of them felt her thought against their minds; it was impossible for Imp to ignore, the certainty that this was what a Chaurus Queen was supposed to be. The beacon the Chaurus used to find their way, the center of their community; an arbiter and adviser and teacher and mother and protector, all as one. So the oldest memories of the Hive Mind lamented, this was what now walked beneath Frostflow… seeking her rightful due, to free the Chaurus from both Falmer and Reaper.
How could Imp not follow in her wake, not lend her claws in slaying the Falmer as the Queen did; though, where the Queen was wrathful, Imp was [joyful] in her revenge.
And when she and another Hunter held down the last Falmer for the Queen, and felt the Queen's [resolve] and [certainty] as she slew the creature… the Chaurus felt something they didn't have a thought-word for. It was a pleasant, warm feeling in their thorax that didn't fade or change much, except when the eye of the Queen swept over them.
Imp knew that was why the other Hunters joined her, those who tended to the newborns and, in the case of the He Who The Queen Named Bentley, protected the Reaper. This new feeling in their bodies, something light and warm that made even the youngest feel strong enough to shatter mountains, it was brought on by the one who would free them, Queen Khepri…
Who wept and [raged] and walked at their side as Imp and the Chaurus went to face the Reaper and free their siblings.
Who moved the other Hunters, the very guards of the Reapers, with her [conviction] and [care].
Who made the Chaurus stand aside, and fought the Reaper in single combat, and the She Who Would Soon Be Imp was [awed] and [humbled] by the sight of her Queen, so small and frail, undaunted before a larger and stronger foe.
Her Queen, who stood victorious over the Reaper's corpse, and said, "You are free. Your futures are your own."
It was the She Who Was Eldest And Oversaw The Young, who would soon be named Skitter, that first thought-spoke [loyalty] to Khepri, and led the way back to the lighthouse above.
From that moment on, Khepri was known by many title-names to each Chaurus – Imp preferred "Queen Khepri the Magnificent Who Protects the Chaurus and Feeds Them Delicious Treats and Likes Shiny Things" – but one name was always constant when referring to their guide and protector: Queen.
Through her, with her, the She Who The Queen Named Imp's eyes and antennae had beheld things she and her brethren had never known, even in the long yet dark memory of the Hive Mind.
A ceiling that was called "sky", sometimes bright, sometimes dark, but always open and free.
Trees, which the Curious He Who The Queen Named Twinkie informed his brothers and sisters was actually food; and with so many, they would never go hungry!
People. Other beings that walked on two legs and made their thoughts into noises to communicate; but they'd built an above-ground hive that always had pleasant and new smells drifting around it, always had work for that would keep Chaurus claws busy, and a warm cave for them to breed and rest and raise their young.
Dawnstar, their Queen's chosen home.
Honey, the product their Queen chose to work with.
Fields of flowers, fights against invaders who thought to trouble their Queen, a messenger of [KYNARETH] in the form of a wood-avatar, a hulking human-wolf who made the Queen [interested], and, most glorious of those early days in the strange world above, their eldest becoming an adult Chaurus, a "Praetorean", the guardian of royalty… and then...
Under metal, under stone. Blind eyes and horror in the cold beneath.
Swords drawn alongside claws. Victory in the dark of Blackreach.
Imp heard a Bard say that, after Skitter and Queen and Bori and Brelyna and Grumpy Skald and so many many others took up arms and went to the deepest cave, where the Falmer lived, where IT lived… and made sure no one could ever distrupt the Queen's rule.
All that came after was a long list of successes: the Queen and her mate, the Great Wolf Who Was Named Farkas, growing to [love] one another more and more with each smile, each kiss, each obsessively read letter; the new (and much warmer) home they moved to, Weynon Glades; the Queen expanding her retinue with those who could shape the world with will, the smelly rat man and the polite Caller lady (though what she called, Imp didn't know, but Defiant would watch them).
There was also that… incident, where the not-there lady named Vaermina attacked their Queen with terrible visions, but the impudent bitch (as Skitter called Vaermina) begged for mercy as soon as the Queen approached her seat of power. Affirming, to all the Chaurus, that Khepri was their undisputed liege, would protect them no matter what.
But that poem… it stuck with Imp. So much so, that she one day approached her Queen's desk in the greenhouse… and asked to be taught how to write.
And Queen Khepri did. Found time for Imp, just like she found time for every single Chaurus who needed her attention.
It was a slow process – not having good claws like Big Sister Skitter made writing hard – but Imp was determined to master the art of making noises with pictures before she, too, grew old enough to become a Praetorean. And practicing on sand or dirt was easy, especially with Queen there to help her when she made a mistake.
Today, however, was a glorious day, one that would be remembered through all time in the Hive Mind: today was the day Queen Khepri and the future King, Farkas, mated for the first time.
Their [passion] and [joy] and [love] and [desire], these things were heard and echoed through all the Chaurus, and they all rejoiced to feel such emotions from their Queen.
In Imp's mind, it was about time! The two had been dancing around the issue for months – and how curious was that, to be the first Chaurus to really understand the concept of days, months, and years – for them to finally have given one another release… it was rapture, such that Imp found herself restless in the cavern she and her fellows had made their home.
Chittering with quiet [indecision], Imp looked over her alcove: two egg sacs, ones prepared by Bullet and Twinkie, sat in a corner with one of Khepri's beautiful Frostbite Spider-silk quilts – only given to the Chaurus, for now – keeping her eggs warm. Twinkie himself was dozing on one of Imp's rugs, staring at a strange disk made of Dwemer metal; it had pictures on it, and gemstones, all creating an image of a battle against bearded men on a plain beneath a mountain's gaze. And that was not the only item decorating Imp's space in the cavern; banners, suits of armor on mannequins, swords, shields, dozens of necklaces and hundreds of rings, a pile of coins from every Era and culture – if it wasn't owned by a person or Chaurus, or was in a part of Blackreach that the Muster couldn't reach easily, Imp collected it or had another Chaurus bring it in secret to the Grotto in Dawnstar or to the new cavern here in Weynon Glades, to add to the Queen's secret hoard.
Her greatest prize, however, was carved against the back wall, had been carefully scratched and carved with her own claws: the poem the Bard spoke of, the day after the Tyrant fell.
She hadn't added anything to her hoard recently, though… and Farkas would be leaving for another adventure soon, to gather a – if she understood everything correctly – shiny to present as a mate-gift to Queen.
Speaking of which, Imp nuzzled Twinkie briefly in [affection] which was returned with a lick and return nuzzle; the fist-sized garnet he gave her from Dawnstar's iron mine was the only thing in the moonstone bowl next to their egg sac.
Similarities aside, an adventure was going to commence when the sun rose, to a place with shinies aplenty! How could Imp call herself Clever, the one who would ensure, with her last breath, that Khepri's legend was forever imprinted on the Hive Mind, if she didn't help her future King retrieve the shiny-of-shinies for the Queen?!
As many books told, history was best when told by those who were there, and both Farkas and Khepri were more concerned with each other and their jobs than recording history.
Decided, Imp cast about for her buggy-bags; she didn't know where Farkas was going, but surely the Queen wouldn't argue Imp following him.
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Heljarchen Hall
Jordis the Sword-Maiden
Returning to wakefulness, Jordis, Houscarl of Khepri the Beekeeper, was initially confused about several things.
Why were her legs sore? And her wrist? Her bedsheets were twisted around her body, and were a tad too damp for her tastes.
Also, her chest- nipples in particular- felt a tad raw, and she was a fair bit parched- oh.
Ohhhhh…
She had… masturbated. A lot. More than she ever had before, that was certain.
Face now hot enough to fry an egg on, Jordis forced herself out of her bed and set about replacing and then hiding the soiled blankets, covering up the scent of her long and vigorous self-pleasuring session with her strongest incense, and tried not to look at herself in the mirror as she washed her face and privates at her washbasin. She didn't want to see the shame she was feeling in her heart. That would make her late to her duties, and then Khepri would get suspicioius and start asking leading questions and- oh Gods, did she KNOW what Jordis DID?!
Her breath caught in her throat and, possibly due to some blessing of Julianos, Jordis found herself coming to a clear realization, with that last self-directed question.
It wasn't likely that Khepri noticed what Jordis was doing… because, from the sound of things-
"Why the fuck did you stop?!" Bangbangbangbangbangbang- "YESSSS!"
-her Thane was likely too… precoccupied… to notice anything else.
It was her only hope and saving grace, the only thing that got her through the rest of her morning duties – with added quick washing of her sheets and lighting an extra stick of incense for good measure – before tiptoeing past Khepri's room on her way to the kitchen.
Once she was safely practicing the rote exercise of preparing breakfast for her no-doubt famished Thane, plus three guests, Jordis took some time to reflect on her actions the previous night.
Khepri was… an attractive young woman. Only a blind person wouldn't be able to see how bright and fiery she could be, and, well, Farkas of the Companions wasn't blind. But he didn't know Khepri like Jordis did; yes, they exchanged letters, had fought in the Muster together, and very clearly loved each other. And the dinner he cooked last night was… above par, by Jordis' admittedly high standards.
But he never sparred with Khepri.
It was there, Jordis mused with a stressed sigh while turning the sausages… it was in fighting where the person Khepri truly was shone through. Yes, she wasn't the best swordswoman in the world, but what Khepri lacked in experience she made up for with precision, determination and grace. Every time Jordis fought her, Khepri would use tactics learned from previous duels to try and exploit one of the Houscarl's perceived weaknesses; but Jordis didn't have any weaknesses. One of her first lessons as a warrior was 'be unpredictable', to not limit herself to a single style that a potential enemy might study and be prepared for.
In whatever war she had fought in, Khepri apparently learned this same lesson, and it'd survived the amnesia that she suffered from. Jordis knew this, because she had fought Khepri.
Which, now that she really looked at their sparring sessions, was an exercise in patience; her Thane really needed to learn not to rely on her swarm, which told her the position and velocity of every insect around her. When in use, this power allowed her to block every one of Jordis' swings; again, however, Khepri was still very much an amateur swordswoman who was more used to fighting untrained or barbaric opponents, than facing off against a skilled fighter. It was ridiculously easy to parry or disarm Khepri… as long as the Thane of Skyrim wasn't using stinging insects.
Outside their sparring ring… Khepri was kind, curious, gentle with all her friends and the people of Weynon, trying to make time for them all, yet she was also firm and stubborn when she wanted something done, or was certain about a fact.
One would almost call her domestic and innocent, if it weren't for the military bearing when she was in 'Thane-mode'… or the times Jordis caught her staring blankly off into space, when even the insects of the town quieted.
Jordis knew Khepri. She watched her, lived with her, fought her.
The Houscarl angrily flipped a pancake; how dare that Companion, who only ever wrote her Thane letters and didn't visit often at all, come into their home and-
"Good morning~, Jordis." Khepri nearly sang as she entered the kitchen in a dress and slippers, face happy and skin glowing bright as Magnus as she went over to a window to open it, letting in the sound of birds and fresh morning air. Joining her at the stove and taking over the bacon skillet, the black-haired Thane continued to smile brightly, "I hope you slept well?"
Jordis mentally tossed her jealously off a cliff. Khepri was happy, and that was most… important…
She would talk about her feelings with her Thane later; there was a time and place for such arguments, and neither was the breakfast table.
"Well enough," she glanced over her shoulder into the dining room, hearing a whistling sound; the Companion, Farkas, was setting the table, already wearing his greaves. Figuring he was indeed close enough to her Thane to forgo the formalities, Jordis turned back to the omelets and continued, "Khepri. Do you have any plans for today?"
"Mmm, I was thinking of responding to Jarl Balgruuf's request to inspect the Silent Moons cairn." Khepri replied thoughtfully with a small smile, "He intends to send Irileth – you remember her?"
"The Dunmer Houscarl who looks like she gets into fights with giants for fun?"
A chuckle left Khepri's lips, "Yes, her. She's bringing one of the Guard Captains, Lydia, over to the cairn to clear out any bandits who didn't run when I moved down here. The Guard Captain apparently wants to become a Houscarl herself someday; anyway, the Jarl was wondering if I could supervise, just in case a necromancer or something moved in while no one was looking."
While she plated the omelets, Jordis bumped her Thane's shoulder with her own, smiling slightly, "I can handle it, Khepri."
"But the Jarl asked for me." Khepri's smile diminished as she joined her Houscarl in carrying food out to the dining area, where Farkas was filling cups with water; he gave Jordis a friendly nod, which she returned.
Mortification aside, he put Khepri in a very good mood. Which would put the Chaurus in a good mood, which was always good, and also meant Jordis might be able to convince her Thane to visit the inn tonight and socialize with her people.
So Jordis would let him live… for now.
"Yes, and I think this might be politics on Balgruuf's part." Jordis explained as they set food on the table and the Companion shouted for the house's other two guests; once everyone was seated, the situation was briefly repeated to the other three people in the house, and Jordis continued, "He wants to see how much you'll agree to do for him, even if he's paying you, and possibly poach you from Jarl Skald. While you are a Thane, that doesn't mean you have to agree to take every mission that gets sent your way. You're the mayor of a town, the owner of a business, and a citizen of the Pale, while Balgruuf just wants you to move to Whiterun so he can boast about it to the other Jarls."
"Is he really that petty?" asked Brelyna, looking a little disgusted.
Farkas nodded, swallowed and said gruffly, "You should see the guy's kids. Oldest one's a nice enough lad if more book-smart than anything else; the younger two are the biggest brats I've ever seen."
"That matches with our encounter," Khepri commented, sounding a little sad. To Jordis, she said slowly, "Well… I suppose, if you think you can handle it."
Ah. Now Jordis understood: Khepri wanted to stretch her legs, find someone who needed their face beaten in and… oblige them. The Houscarl thought as she chewed and smiled at her Thane, "I won't say no to a little support; are Judas, Brutus and Sophia doing anything today?" and Khepri was all smiles again as she said no, those Hunters were free for the moment. "Send them along. Oh, and before I forget: Mr. Cecia's group ran into some Frostbites in Silverdrift's depths. They were wondering if you could…"
And that was, more-or-less, that: Khepri would head over to Silverdrift after sparring with Jordis, and bring the diggers to the inn for drinks after the spiders were cleared out. Meanwhile, Jordis would draft a counter-offer for Balgruuf's little proving for the future Houscarl, which she and Khepri would go over either in the evening, or over breakfast tomorrow.
Aside from that, the only surprise was Imp appearing outside the manor, the sneaky female Hunter bouncing around with her buggy-bags under her wings, all ready to join Farkas, Fairsi and Brelyna on the final leg of their adventure. After only a little logical coercion from Fairsi and Khepri – and quite a lot of rather disturbing cooing from Brelyna – Farkas agreed to allow the Hunter to tag along… though Jordis' mention of the exceedingly rare and mysterious Marsh Chaurus, which few adventurers had ever seen, was possibly the tipping point.
The farewell between Khepri and Farkas was… well, Jordis was more concerned with cloud patterns; she did realize, however, that the fantasy of last night – being the 'meat' in a 'sandwich' – was just that, a fantasy. Not something Jordis would ever act on... because the way Khepri looked at Farkas, and he at her, reminded the Houscarl of a certain High King and Queen in their more heartwarming moments.
Khepri was her Thane, but more importantly, she was Jordis' first true friend. The Nord woman would sooner cripple both her arms than dishonor that kind of bond.
It didn't mean she had to be merciful, though.
"My Thane, I have a question." Jordis said, once Farkas' party vanished around the mountain Heljarchen Hall stood next to, Khepri insisting on waiting until he was out of sight before doing anything else; at her Thane's questioning hum, Jordis asked officiously, "Did you remember to take a contraceptive afterward?"
Khepri blushed from her chest all the way to her ears, "Wh- how do you even know anything happened? My room is soundproof!"
Jordis didn't relent in her severe stare.
After a few seconds, the Queen of the Chaurus crossed her arms and huffed, still blushing, "If you must know, yes, Jordis. I didn't forget." Left unsaid was the certainty that one day, she would conveniently 'forget' the potion, but the two would likely be married by then.
And if a night of lovemaking could put Khepri into such a good mood, Jordis couldn't wait to see what motherhood would make of her Thane; the only thing the blonde warrior knew was, it would be glorious. She wondered if Jarl Skald would act more like a father figure than he was already trying to be.
Regardless, before that day came, Jordis had to see to her first duty: beating the snot out of Khepri and reminding her why she was called 'Sword-Maiden'.
Nodding, Jordis turned to the practice ring, saying sharply, "For future reference, the magical rune that activates the soundproofing spell is behind the print of the Palace of Kings. Now," she continued, ignoring Khepri's spluttering in favor of tossing the young woman a training broadsword, "let us see if you can hit me more than twice today."
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Reviewer responses! Woo!
Legion29: This story also has a TVTropes page!
Guest: Contessa brought her there. How that happened is impossible to explain without PtV to help me out, sorry :P All I can say is, kick back and enjoy the show; we're not even close to done yet, and questioning the 'whys' of everything would detract from the enjoyment.
Xaax: It's a lot more complicated than that. Their goal is to reverse the self-refraction of the Aldmer - that is, the original Elves - and become spirit again. But the only way to do that is to topple all the Towers of Nirn, one of which they'll need Numidium to do (Tower Zero), and kill literally everyone who isn't either a Mer or Beastfolk. It's not gonna work - because the Daedra will be pissed at the Elven spirits for fucking up their sandbox - but the Thalmor are idiots like that. I would suggest going to the UESP pages and reading through the lore pages regarding the Aldmeri Dominion and Towers if you want to understand further. Just stay away from C0DA, it's not canon, just another one of Kirkbride's fever dreams.
Acaykath: If this was pure Worm, you'd be on the money. But it's not; I write sins, not tragedies (ignore Unforgivable, I had a different muse at the time).
Rydan Fall: The Thalmor see Khepri as anathema to their plans. She's a human, can't be bought, and has no interest in working with the Thalmor; off-screen, all her responses to their overtures has been "That's nice, but I'm not interested." She isn't stupid; the people of Dawnstar told her about their attacks on Talos worshippers. Khepri won't work with them, and now that they know what she's capable of, the Thalmor would rather see her dead.
Platinumsabr: *shrug* I write what I write and sometimes it's not very consistent. I'm doing my best with the limited time I have to work on these, so, meh.
Sebine: Why not both?
Silent Storm: Lycanthropy in Skyrim is not hereditary. The only way to get it is to either A) be blessed by Hircine with a Were-ability (apparently Were-sharks are a thing in ES), B) drink the blood (or, ahem, fluids) of a transformed Werewolf, or C) get cursed by those walking nightmares of Skyrim, the Hagravens. So no Were-babies for Khepri (what a horrible notion, Were-babies. How terrifying...).
Thank you all for your reviews and favorites! Have a wonderful day, everyone!
~Baked