Unexpected Arrivals
8˂
L'laarzen awoke, and almost didn't regret it.
Everything was either throbbing or completely limp, but there weren't any of the spikes of pain she'd expected. Upon reviewing what had happened before she'd last fell unconscious, she was more than a little surprised she was even alive.
Everything was uncomfortably warm, including her head, which like the rest of her wasn't 'aching' so much as 'under constant pressure'. She groaned, audibly, and tried to move.
"Hm? Oh, whoa, there, cowgirl, take it easy..." Came a voice, from somewhere nearby.
"What's...a cowgirl..?" L'laarzen's tongue was uncomfortably heavy in her mouth.
"A girl who works with cows, I imagine. Right, let me see to you, can you open your eyes?"
L'laarzen did so. The light immediately hurt, and she pulled her eyelids closed again, wincing.
"Ah, right, thought so. That is probably the taproot. Well, don't be too disheartened, it was either overdilated pupils or massive organ failure. Here, I'll shut all the curtains..."
"Ngh...Who?" L'laarzen managed. "Where?"
"Well, my name is Wylandriah, I'm the court wizard of Mistveil Keep." The voice continued. "You're in...Mistveil keep. You were right underneath in the prisons when you got into your scuffle, so they decided this was the best place to take you. You're still here because, apparently, everyone loves you. You were vouched for by three prominent city nobles, the temple of Mara, and Maven Black-Briar. The last would have been enough on its own, but still, look at you Mrs Popular! Try opening your eyes again?"
L'laarzen did so. This time, it was less painful. Her eyes as a Khajiit were normally excellent at seeing in the dark, but now her vision was simply a blur of bright splotches. She could just about make out the figure leaning over her, but even basic features such as race or gender couldn't be determined from sight alone.
She explained so, and Wylandriah sighed. "Sorry, all my fault. Your eyes weren't damaged, so your vision should be returning soon."
"What...was damaged?" L'laarzen asked, trying to keep her eyes open. She was hesitant to move before a prognosis.
"Ohoho, that's a question." Wylandriah moved away, and L'laarzen heard the sounds of flipping pages. "Bearing in mind I'm a wizard first and doctor second, and that my specialty is in alchemy, not restoration...ah, here are Priestess Balu's notes. Oh, wow, that is bad."
"Spill." L'laarzen groaned.
"Well, you've broken bones in both arms, one leg, and...sixteen of your ribs."
"Ah."
"And your skull is fractured."
"Oh."
"...And there's some damage to your spine."
"..."
"...not to mention the massive blood loss and tissue damage." The file audibly smacked down onto a table. "According to dear Dinya, it appears that you've been building up smaller injuries for weeks without allowing them to properly heal. After doing her best to separate what's new from what you had before, she could hardly believe you were able to fight at all."
Another throb wracked L'laarzen's body, and she grit her teeth. "And you decided not to give L'laarzen anything for the pain of all that?"
"Actually, I did." Wylandriah's voice was hesitant. "You're already on the strongest pain medication I have. Also, please continue using your own name in speech, I have a tendency to forget those."
"Wonderful..." L'laarzen tried to sit up, failed, and then sort of shimmied backwards until she was resting her head against the back board.
"And this is all ignoring the...other damage." Wylandriah continued, causing L'laarzen to go still. "During your treatment, once we'd looked past the fur (oh, and. We also had to remove quite a bit of fur, in order to get to all this) we discovered injuries that were...months old. Years, even. You have a slightly crooked spine, and one of your arms-"
"Is misaligned. Khajiit's left." L'laarzen nodded. "She took a bad fall, and healed wrong. It would have taken months to break and re-heal, and does not impede L'laarzen's movement too much."
"Months?" Wylandriah could barely be seen to tilt her head. "Not with a proper healer, surely."
"Who said L'laarzen had a proper healer?" L'laarzen tried to laugh. "This is the most comprehensive attention Khajiit has ever received."
"Well, it shows." Wylandriah hesitated. "Those two I could have pinned on accidents, but...like I said, we saw under the fur. There are so many scars-"
"Khajiit's past was troubled. Let us leave it there, hmm?" L'laarzen cut across, feeling herself get annoyed.
"Oh. Right, I suppose so."
"Thank you. Now, when can L'laarzen get out of bed?"
"Hah! Don't get excited. You're spending the next few days in there while we make sure you aren't going to just die on us." Wylandriah turned back to her notes. "You can probably get walking before Morndas, but the biggest problem is your arms, not your legs. Eating, opening doors, all that will take longer. Even with alchemical and magical help, you'll be relying on others for the next few weeks."
"And what about fighting?" L'laarzen asked, with a sinking feeling.
Wylandriah laughed. Heartily. "Fighting? Haven't you done quite enough of that recently? I think you'd best leave that to others for the foreseeable future."
L'laarzen looked down, fists clenching. And yet. As much as Khajiit speaks of trusting others, that aspect cannot be left to them. Damn it.
"I see." She answered, noncommittally. "Then, might L'laarzen at least receive visitors? She has some people she would like to speak with."
"Like the Dunmer woman who's been sat outside the door for the last seven hours?" Wylandriah chuckled. "I'll let her know you're awake. How do you inspire such loyalty in your friends?"
"Simple." L'laarzen replied, bitterly. "You pretend to be someone better than you really are."
̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶̶ ̶ ̶͜͡|
Elisif paced in her throne room.
The door was barred, and the windows and curtains were all closed. She had finally caved and had a public announcement made that she had taken ill, and would have to be left alone. However, the resulting quiet that befell the Blue Palace made her start to regret it. She had even more time left alone with her thoughts, which of course meant the thoughts of-
Her eyes widened, and her body tingled. She felt a flood of exhilaration, excitement, the sides of her mouth twitching upwards even as she took in a breath and...
The feeling dwindled, and her face fell. The adrenaline remained, but now it was less excitement, and more fear.
What did you just do? She thought, stood still in the centre of the room.
Oh, I'm just experimenting. Potema's voice echoed across her mind. You were feeling so dreary, my girl. You do realise that transfers across to me? I just thought I would give you a little pick-me-up.
Stop messing with my head.
I...you are aware that messing with your head is the entire reason I'm here? Get used to it, dearie.
Elisif grit her teeth. "Won't you please at least open a window?" She snapped at Bolgier, who was stood silently in one corner of the room.
"But Styrr advised-" Her Housecarl began, before quailing at the glare she sent his way. "Aye. Of course."
She made her way back to her throne with a sigh, as he walked to one of the windows (a back one, she noticed. Of course, they couldn't have the crowds see her in this state).
He pulled across the curtains and unlatched the window, letting in some unfiltered sunlight, a refreshing breeze, and a SMALL ETHEREAL DRAGON-
Elisif jolted to her feet and Bolgier swore as the creature darted in through the aperture, doing a loop in the air before coming to a stop on the floor before her. It couldn't have been more than a foot tall, matching the artists renditions of the beasts that had been plaguing the country lately, except in that it was translucent and glowed bright blue.
"Mage attack!" Bolgier shouted, unsheathing his weapon, "Get down my Jarl-"
"WAIT!" Came a young woman's voice from an adjacent room, followed by a crashing noise.
Elisif, Bolgier, and the dragon all stood quite still, and after a few more seconds, a particularly unkempt looking Cassia Meteuse stumbled out of her temporary quarters.
"It's not an attack!" Panted the mage, still in her nightclothes despite the fact that it was almost midday. "I knew I recognised that signature, it's-"
"A familiar summon specialised for long range communication rather than combat, I know." Elisif snapped, after giving the construct a once over. "What's it doing here?"
Cassia opened her mouth, then paused. "You know that?" She asked. "Really?"
"...Apparently?" Elisif replied, blinking.
Oh, right. Some of my magical expertise might be bleeding through into your mind. Consider yourself lucky, all I'm getting from you is a crash course on how politics has changed in the last few centuries. In case you were wondering, it isn't much.
"Well, anyway, I know who sent it." Cassia continued, either oblivious to the conversation in Elisif's head or willingly ignoring it. "Dramatic git spent weeks talking with Daedra to get the form just how he wanted it. Go ahead, say 'open'."
"Open?" When I asked for a distraction, this isn't quite what I was expecting...
The dragon vanished into a swirl of blue light, which curled upwards until it became a pillar about the size of a human. A voice began to emanate from the phenomenon.
"Okay, so what if I-Oh, wait, it's working! Yes! Okay, good, ahem-"
The light resolved itself into the shape of a Man, finer details building up to reveal an Imperial in ornate mage robes.
"Greetings, Jarl Elisif the Fair and/or Cassia Meteuse and/or Dulurza whateveryoursurnameis." Said the mage, his voice resonating with strange, colourful overtones. "My name is Archmage Alexander Meteuse, of the College of Winterhold. What you are witnessing is a recording I have created in lieu of sending a more easily intercepted letter."
"Ey, big bro!" Cassia grinned, waving at the creation.
"Can he...see us?" Elisif asked, glancing across to her.
"Oh, no, it's not live, we don't have the tech here for that. Just imagine he's dictating a message that was then sent to you." Cassia paused, then her eyes widened. "Wait, did he say Archmage? Wait, what?"
"I am delivering this to you to speak to you on a number of matters, all of high importance." Alexander continued, completely ignoring their talking as Cassia had implied.
"Firstly, you may have already received reports of a...minor apocalypse occurring at our College. I am glad to inform you that that apocalypse has been soundly dealt with, and there is no chance of further dangers caused by it afflicting your hold, or greater Skyrim. However, in the events, our beloved Archmage Savos Aren was tragically killed. I have been elected as Archmage in his stead, and so will be the one who addresses the outside world for the foreseeable future."
"Son of a horker!" Cassia shouted at the hologram, as the mage continued to speak about politics and his neutral stance on the war. "How did he do that? Oh, I'm going to tear his ear off for this. I thought I was going to overtake him!"
"...and I can provide more information by letter at your request." Alexander finished. "Thus ends the more general message. However, I do have more specific business to address with Solitude, and the people within it. This may grow personal, so if you would like to listen to the rest of this 'in private', say 'pause' to stop the recording, and 'play' to restart it when you are suitably prepared."
"Oh, damn, he's added new features. I gotta take a look at this when it's done..." Cassia mused.
Elisif just slowly retook her seat, processing what she was hearing as quickly as she could.
Alexander stopped briefly, then continued. "So, assuming you're now ready: Cassia, you little wretch! You'd better not be dead!"
"Screw you!"
"I leave you a moment there to respond, and thus be not dead. Now, a good friend of mine called Dulurza recently escorted my sister Cassia to Solitude, to help with a problem involving ghosts and possibly Jarls. My memory's a little fuzzy."
"He knows?" Elisif hissed.
"I dunno. Ask Dul-Well. You know." Cassia seemed to realise what she was saying halfway through and trailed off.
"Now I would hope that that has been resolved by the time you receive this message, but I understand that the real world is rarely so clean. Not to mention I think I still owe your thane an enchanted axe, and you still owe me a Daedric artefact." Alexander continued.
Elisif winced, glancing across towards her room. The door was closed, but she knew Dawnbreaker sat sheathed on her bedside table.
"...all of which means I expect to need to pay a visit to our nation's capital some time soon." The hologram continued. "The details of which can be arranged over further letters. But suffice to say that I would like to see my sister is safe, and may be able to provide magical assistance of my own.
Until then, I hope that you are all well, and eagerly await your response.
Glad-Uh...yours truly...
Okay I never know how to end these things. Bye."
The hologram reached out, started fiddling with something, and then the light cut out with a sudden flash.
A small white soul gem was left spinning on the floor, before quickly disintegrating into dust.
"Dumbass." Cassia sighed, a smile on her face.
"...Well." Elisif summarised. "You Meteuse certainly make strong first impressions. Now, unless anyone else would like to suddenly appear-"
There was a magical twinkling sound, and all the hairs on Elisif's arms stood on end.
Her head darted up, in time to see a figure walking up the stairs towards her. The intruder was only slowly becoming visible; her head, then upper body, then legs manifesting as though she was emerging from some concealing surface of water.
"Good day, Jarl." The dark-haired woman said, approaching the throne. "Just to be clear, yes, I recognised that the front door was locked, but elected to come in anyway."
Bolgier redrew his weapon, but Cassia just gasped. "Octavia? What are you doing here?"
"Octavia?" Elisif's head whipped around from the newcomer to her court wizard, noticing how startlingly similar the pair looked.
"Captain Octavia of the Penitus Oculatus." The woman curtseyed, perfectly, before smiling across at Cassia. "Hey, shortstack. I'm here as an envoy from Dragon Bridge to discuss the matter of-"
Octavia stopped. Blinked twice. Looked Elisif up and down.
Then her eyes widened. "Ghost!" She shouted, manifesting a glowing bow from mid-air and taking aim even as Cassia shouted "NO NO NO WAIT-"
8˂
Karliah's entrance to L'laarzen's room was a rapid one. Her usual stealth and grace forgotten, she practically stumbled through the door and came to a stop with her hands on the bedside table.
"Are you alright?" She painted. "By Nocturnal, L'laarzen, you scared the living daylights out of me, when I came in and saw-"
"Mercer." L'laarzen interrupted. "Could you please say that after leaving the dungeon he tripped, fell in the canal, and was eaten by slaughterfish?"
"After leaving the dungeon he tripped, fell in the canal, and was eaten by slaughterfish." Karliah answered, dutifully.
"Oh, good. Now what actually happened?"
"He got away." Karliah sighed. She seemed to take L'laarzen's humour as a sign to relax, and pulled over a nearby chair to sit on. "Not like there was anything the guards could do to stop him. Apparently he tore straight through the market like a bull, kicked open the front gates and fled into the wild."
"So we've lost him." L'laarzen growled. "Wonderful."
"He's never coming back to Riften. That's what you wanted, right?" Karliah blinked. The hood and mask of her usual garb were down, leaving her face exposed, and her expressions unusually easy to read. "Wait. You didn't actually think you were going to kill him in there, did you?"
L'laarzen's response was interrupted by the door opening again, this time by a very distressed looking Brynjolf. His clothing, normally so perfectly clean and smart, was in total disarray.
"L'laarzen! Thank the divines you're alright, lass." His face turned outraged. "What in Oblivion were you thinking!"
"Khajiit is...sensing a lot of emotions at play here." L'laarzen looked between the two of them. "Care to explain what exactly happened? L'laarzen got beaten up and then passed out, and has heard little since."
The two of them looked between each other.
"Well..." Karliah began. "The plan worked."
Ah, yes. The plan. Ostensibly, the goal had been to lure Mercer away from the guild into a confrontation with L'laarzen, allowing Enthir and Karliah to try and convince them to turn against him.
L'laarzen had personally thought that the process would be streamlined significantly if Frey had been dead on their arrival, but had kept it to herself.
"We were all mighty confused when Enthir arrived." Brynjolf explained. "Most of us didn't trust him one bit. Could have written anything he wanted and said it was the translation of Gallus' journal. But he convinced us to open the vault, and that...that at least proved something fishy was up."
"So Mercer did take from the vault." Karliah bared her teeth. "How much did he steal?"
"All of it."
"...What?"
"All of it." Brynjolf looked like he couldn't believe it himself. "The vault is empty. Don't go sharing this, mind. Only me, Delvin and Vex saw inside, and if anyone else finds out we're in big trouble."
"Surely you did not have all your wealth in one place." L'laarzen said, incredulous. "No matter how confident you are in your safe, that would be the height of foolishness. You're the Thieves Guild."
"Not all of it, no." Brynjolf rolled his eyes. "But more than I'd like. We had almost half again the vault's contents hidden in dead drops all across Skyrim. But I asked Vex to sweep around some of the nearest ones, and they were empty. For all we know, Mercer might have hit all of them." He took his own chair, and slumped into it. "We have value stored in other ways. Businesses we own or invest in, property and land, stores of equipment. But all of that had to be scaled back over the last few years, because for some reason we've been going through some bad luck." He shot a glare at Karliah, who winced. "We're still functioning. But practically all of our liquid assets are gone."
"We can recoup some of that from looting Riftweald Manor." Karliah pointed out. "I can imagine Maven trying to claim the property as some sort of lesson to us, but we've already got people sifting through the place. There's nowhere near enough in there to cover what we've lost, though, I'm sure of it. I don't even know how he would have spent all that money..."
"And what of intelligence?" L'laarzen asked. "When you first broke in, did you find anything?"
"I did. Secret basement. Trapped to Oblivion, but I'm me." Karliah gave a smug smile, but it dropped quickly. "All his notes are encoded too, though. We've set up Enthir in the Ragged Flagon trying to decode it, but if this is anything like Gallus' work, it could take time."
"Anything else?" L'laarzen sighed.
"Uh, a bust of the Grey Fox, his incredibly expensive sword..." Karliah clicked her tongue. "Oh, and there was a surprising amount of Dwemer and Falmer memorabilia in there. I only recognised it because I've seen so much around you and Enthir recently."
"Really?" Brynjolf frowned. "That's not like him. He's never been into history."
"As far as you knew, he was never a traitor, either." L'laarzen's headache still hadn't gone away. She tried to shake it off, focusing.
"Put a bounty on his head." She instructed. "A big one. Jarl Lalia can't enforce such outside of the Rift, L'laarzen understands, but considering the influence of the guild and the Black-Briars I'm sure we can convince the other holds to blacklist him."
Brynjolf spoke up, "Maven might not-"
"Then Khajiit will speak to her. It won't be difficult." L'laarzen cut across him. "This won't catch him, but it will limit his options." She looked between them. "The three of us should not separate. The guards mean nothing to him, and we are all far too easy to assassinate alone. Karliah, test the other members of the guild, see if any of them can match you. If not, there's no point assigning them to our defence. We must hope that Mercer's plan takes precedence over his revenge; as now our positions have been reversed with his. How ironic." She didn't smile. "L'laarzen will speak with Wylandriah. She is healing Khajiit fast, but others might be faster. If money can get L'laarzen combat ready sooner, then we should spend it." Her eyes narrowed. "He won't best Khajiit so easily next time."
"Uh, L'laarzen?" Karliah piped up, quietly. "Chaurus eggs?"
L'laarzen blinked. Looked up at Brynjolf, who was staring at her with a mixture of suspicion and disbelief.
"Are you sure you're okay?" He asked.
"No." L'laarzen admitted. "Khajiit would blame it on the potions or the pain, but the truth is...Mercer brought out a side of L'laarzen that she would rather keep suppressed. The man is so damn cynical. Khajiit will be more amicable when she has had more time to rest, and more time to think."
"You know..." Brynjolf hesitated. "Mercer said that you had been putting on a face. Lying about who you were. He's the traitor, lass, I know that, but...lots of people in the guild won't trust either of you. Karliah has been our enemy for years."
"Give L'laarzen half an hour with each of them. She will put a stop to it." L'laarzen replied, flatly.
Khajiit didn't want to get involved in this. Khajiit just wanted to cut hair...
But the point was moot. The look in Mercer's eyes when she'd last seen him had been one of utmost loathing. Whatever the Skeleton had taken away from his mind, hatred was clearly still there. This only ended two ways.
One was if she fled to another country. Again.
No. L'laarzen has made friends here. She will not run away.
Which left the second.
"We will have to kill Mercer Frey." L'laarzen told them both. "Are you prepared for that?"
After a few seconds, Brynjolf nodded.
L'laarzen focused on Karliah, who was looking away.
"No." She said, causing L'laarzen to raise a confused eyebrow.
"We aren't ready to fight him. I thought I was, but after what's happened, I-" Karliah clenched her fists, looking to the floor. "I've just been cowardly, and indecisive. I need to be better. We need to be better."
"So what do you suggest?" Brynjolf asked. "New training regimen? L'laarzen's the only one who was a match for Mercer, and she's bedridden."
"Not exactly. But I do have a way we can turn the tide." Karliah looked up. "L'laarzen, when you can walk again, there's a place I need to take you both."
̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶̶ ̶{o
The Master Wizard of the College of Winterhold stepped down from her carriage. Her robes had nary a crease, and she was bedecked in jewellery. Circlet, necklace, ring, all of which sparkled with a magical light. One of her hands flicked as she stepped down, and the snow that had built up on the floor scattered to either side, allowing her boots to touch the floor unsullied.
And of course, following behind her was the College's Archmage. Alexander Meteuse's robes were opulant and exotic, made from the fur of some strange beast not native to Skyrim, and marked in certain places by strange, eldritch runes. Those runes actually read phrases like 'This took too long to stitch', 'politics is boring' and 'If you can read these, nice going!' in Dovahzuul. Alexander didn't 'step down' from the carriage so much as 'fall', but his cloak billowed out around him and his rate of descent was kept to a graceful glide.
One hand gripped a powerful staff, its tip glowing blue and swirling with energy. His other idly tossed an extra Septim to the carriage's driver, along with a smile and a "Thank you for the pleasant journey."
Together, they walked up to the front door of the Thalmor Embassy, the snow continuing to part before their footsteps.
"...This is really exorbitant." Mirabelle hissed across to him.
"Yup." Xander agreed.
"I have makeup on! I haven't worn makeup in years!"
"You look wonderful, don't worry about it."
"Well, thank you, but still!" Mirabelle coughed. "Don't you think we're overdoing it a bit?"
"Oh, trust me." Xander snorted. "We're not."
They handed in their invitation for inspection, then opened the doors.
He was right.
The room they entered was irresponsibly opulent. A marble floor, artwork lining the walls, waitresses in skimpy yet still somehow tasteful outfits, and...crystal chandeliers? Really?
Everyone else present was also decked out in their Sundas best, meeting varying levels of success. Xander internally rated their outfits from 'awful' (that one Nord who was built like a brick outhouse and did not fit in his clothes properly) to 'fair' (the people who looked like they came from Solitude's court, and were used to this kind of thing) to 'making it look effortless' (that one old lady who had just managed to out-sneer a Thalmor agent. What an icon).
"Anyone important missing?" He asked quietly, just as heads started to turn towards them. He'd finally made the effort to memorise the names of the significant Skyrim nobles, but there wasn't anything he could do for their faces.
"I can't see Jarl Igmund. Still tied up with the Forsworn, perhaps?" Mirabelle answered, scanning the crowd herself. "And...Elisif the Fair isn't here. How odd."
"The Jarl of the capital didn't want to attend?"
"Apparently. I wonder if she's ill..."
"Oh, well, we have bigger problems. Straighten your back, the host is here."
Xander checked his own posture, and tried not to gulp.
Elenwen, First Emmisary of the Thalmor, approached the pair with a contemplative look on her face.
You've killed two of her agents and are currently holding a magical artefact she desperately wants. Maximum effort on this one, Alexander.
He opened his mouth, and-
"DARLING!" Elenwen walked right up and grabbed his cheeks, and he barely managed to close his mouth in time for her lips to crash into his.
Mirabelle let out a sound akin to a strangled fish.
Oh, gods no. We're doing this.
"Mmmmmmwah!" Elenwen pulled back and smiled, leaving Xander to stumble back. "Alexander, dear, how are you?"
"P-pretty good." Xander wiped his lips, fully aware of how many people were staring. "Hi. Auntie."
"Auntie?" Mirabelle gaped.
Kill me.
"Mirabelle, this is Aunt Elenwen." Xander managed to sigh at the same time as speaking. "She is the sister of my great-great-great-great-great-great grandfather. Elenwen, this is my Master Wizard, Mirabelle Ervine."
"Oh, it's a pleasure to meet you!" Elenwen reached a hand out, and shook a bewildered Mirabelle's. "I'm so glad that Alexander is making friends!" Eyes flicked down, then back up, "Attractive ones, too."
Mirabelle choked.
"Auntie, please." Xander grit his teeth. "Do not unsettle my colleague."
"Oh, my apologies." Elenwen turned back to him. "How are you doing, darling? Well, I suppose I don't need to ask, apparently the answer is 'incredibly well for yourself'!" She took him by the shoulder, and began walking him deeper into the room. "When I heard you had left home a few months ago I almost had a heart attack! Oh, but now I see you just needed some room in order to truly grow. When I got that letter and learned that you were Archmage, I was astounded!" She poked him in one cheek. "Of course, I knew you'd do something of this magnitude eventually. I always said it, you are my favourite~"
"Yes, speaking of that." Xander tried to ignore the mortifying embarrassment he was feeling and focus on what was being said. "You...aren't mad?"
"Mad about what?" She asked, innocently.
"The events described in the letter." He explained. "The College became somewhat adversarial with your operatives..."
"Oh, that? Oh, no no no no no." Elenwen laughed. "Don't be foolish, that was all a misunderstanding! Unless they found a shrine to Talos hidden in your midden, Ancano and his lackeys were never meant to attack you." She tutted. "They were entirely out of control, I do apologise. If anything you've done me a favour by getting rid of them."
"Oh. Well, that's good."
If this was the angle she wanted to go for, he wasn't going to complain.
"Of course," Elenwen continued, "had I known you were in charge I would have visited myself! Our liaisons with that old fool Aren were downright hostile. I trust the Thalmor will be able to maintain a much...friendlier relationship with the College now you are in charge?"
Oh, you scheming daughter of a hagfish and a frost troll!
He was absolutely going to complain about this angle! She wanted to put more Thalmor in his school! And worse, she had the entire event to get around to asking him, and he wouldn't have valid reason to refuse!
"Well, it would be highly irresponsible of me to start my position by making enemies." He replied, diplomatically, with what he hoped was a convincing smile.
"Excellent!" Elenwen clapped her hands. "We can talk more on that later, but for now, there's someone here I think you'd like to meet. Excuse me one moment..."
She disappeared through the crowd, giving Xander a moment to sigh in relief.
"That was...something." Mirabelle said, appearing by his side.
"That condescending, two faced cow." Xander snarled, which made Mirabelle jolt. "Did you see her? Showing up with unpredictable behaviour to throw me off guard and take control of the entire conversation."
"Xander, that's what you do." Mirabelle pointed out. "I don't see the problem. She seemed to like you."
"Well of course. 'I'm HeR faVoUrItE'." Xander rolled his eyes. "Does she think I don't talk to my siblings? She says that to all of us."
"You don't like her?"
"I can't stand her. Of course, she thinks I view her as a close friend, mentor and confidante."
"Right. And she's the two-faced one." Mirabelle looked around. "Well, we know we aren't about to get attacked. Now what?"
"Now we do everything we can to stop her digging her fingers into the College." Xander groused. "Avoid her as best you can, try and come up with excuses as to why she can't send any more agents to join us, and wait for me to tell you the minimum time's passed before we can leave. If I didn't have to pretend to be a powerful wizard, I'd have faked an illness and left before she could come back."
He sighed, and rolled his shoulders. "Besides that, I suppose enjoy yourself? Auntie's parties always have good food and wine. If we're lucky we might be able to smuggle a bottle out. Now, I'm just going to try and subtly make clear the College's stance to as many people as I can. Unless anyone else from my past wants to dramatically appear to me-"
"Alex! It's good to see you!"
Xander froze.
His brain ran through about six different emotions at once, all managing to cancel each other out and freeze any response other than simply turning around to confirm what his eyes were telling him.
Elenwen was returning, smiling knowingly.
Beside her...
Black mage robes, simpler than Xander's, but bespoke in a way that made his seem somewhat tacky. Immaculate, shoulder length black hair. The man who stood smiling at Xander was tall, well built, and exuding an aura of calm confidence. He had golden eyes, a handsome face, and a neatly trimmed black goatee and facial hair.
Xander did an internal reboot, and got his mouth working, even as his thoughts solidified on the general idea of 'what in Oblivion is HE doing here?'
"Hi, Julius." He said, to the eldest Meteuse sibling. "Long time no see."
̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ Ϫ
Hjar approached the small wooden shack in the middle of the swamp. She felt remarkably like a skeever approaching what it knew was a rat trap, but couldn't leave alone because the cheese it offered was its only source of food.
She knew Arnbjorn was here. His scent was all over the area. Despite only meeting him briefly, the smell of another lycanthrope was so distinctive she could recognise it even in her ordinary form. She'd have loved to speak at length to him, discuss her condition with the only person she'd ever met who shared it...were he Literally Anyone Else.
Instead, her only thoughts were on getting out of this alive.
He's bigger than me, but I don't think he's faster, and I'm more nimble. If he does attack, I can probably use the swamp to build up some distance between us, then get running. My wolf form can last longer than his. Thank you, cursed ring...
She stroked one finger over the dark silver signet, hearing the wolf inside her growl as though it was annoyed by the disturbance. Then again, this thing means he can track me across all of Tamriel if he wants to.
No more impermanent solutions. She needed to be decisive, like she'd been in Markarth. She needed to put this to bed here.
So she took a deep breath, and reached for the door.
It opened with a creak. The room that was revealed to her was...
Somehow exactly what she'd expected.
Dimly lit by a few torches. Beds with footlockers lined the walls of one side of the building. The other side was filled with cages, manacles, actual torture devices, and blood.
It certainly looked like a hideout for a cult of assassins. And on one of the beds sat a man with white hair, clad in black and red leather armour. He had a large, wicked looking battle-axe in his lap, and was sharpening its edge with a whetstone as she entered.
He looked up at her.
"Did you start doing that when you noticed me approach?" Hjar had to ask. "Or did you just happen to be doing the most intimidating thing possible at the same time I arrived?"
"Eighteen hours before your deadline." Arnbjorn replied, gruffly. "I warned you against cutting it close."
"I'm sorry." Hjar replied, and meant it. "Circumstances arose, obstacles appeared, and were overcome. I'm still on time though, right?"
"You are." Arnbjorn stood up, laying his axe down to one side. "Which I hope means that you are willing to repay your debt."
"You want me to kill someone for you." Hjar crossed her arms and winced. "Are you sure I can't just pay you the price of the contract?"
"Yes." He replied. "This isn't about money. It's about principle."
"Principles that mean I have to kill some random citizen?" Hjar crossed her arms. "I'm not exactly comfortable with that."
"Strange." Arnbjorn didn't break eye contact. "The mess you caused in Markarth would suggest otherwise."
Hjar winced again. "That wasn't my fault."
"But you have killed for money before."
Crap. He still thinks I killed Grelod. If only I had more time, I might have gone and looked into that, seen if I could shift the blame to where it really belongs...
"I don't like having my targets chosen for me." She replied, instead.
"Well, you'll have more freedom in the future, I'm sure." Arnbjorn shrugged. What in Oblivion does that mean? "But now, you're on catchup. Will you accept, or am I killing you right here?"
"Hircine, man, take it easy..." Hjar raised her hands in supplication and backed up a step. The wolf in her did not like that; its immediate response to a challenge was to growl right back, escalate until it got the supplication it wanted. She wrestled the urge down. Need to get rid of this bloody ring...
"Who's the target?" She asked, once she could trust herself to speak.
If Arnbjorn noticed her struggle, he didn't comment. "This contract is in some ways harder, some ways easier than most. You won't have to worry about infiltrating a town or avoiding the wrath of guards." He smiled then, viciously. "And if you still want to pretend you have morals, you won't have to worry about that either. You're after a man who has murdered a child, among other crimes. A grieving mother has performed the Black Sacrament over the man who killed her daughter."
That...could definitely have been much worse. Well, it's awful. But it could have been much worse for me.
"So he's an outlaw in the wilds?" Hjar inferred, feeling some hope. "Part of a bandit tribe?"
"No, he's alone. But dangerous. A unique challenge; I planned to take him myself." Arnbjorn watched her face. "Are you comfortable killing one of your own?"
"He's a Forsworn?" Hjar asked, before clamping her mouth shut. He might not have known that you moron!
Arnbjorn barked out a laugh. "No, not a Reachman. You'll find him hiding out somewhere north of Falkreath.
His name is Sindig. And he's a werewolf."
̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶̶ ̶{o
"Well Aetherius above us, look at you!" Julius strode forwards with a smile, stretching his arms out to either side.
Xander knew the drill, and let go of his staff entirely before meeting his brother in a hug.
Part of him just sort of collapsed the moment he did so, and if they weren't squeezing each other so tightly he might have fallen over. It was a relief response, he supposed. A long history of Julius' arrival being associated with getting bailed out of trouble. Case in point...
"How do you need this to go?" The elder whispered, quickly and quietly, in the embrace.
"Don't let auntie put spies in my school, make me look good." Xander whispered back.
Julius pulled away again, a wide, warm smile still on his face. "I leave you alone for a few months and this is what you get up to?"
"What can I say. I work fast." Xander smiled back. He held his hand out, and the Staff of Magnus (which had been hovering just to one side) flew back into his palm.
It wasn't Xander who made it float. The simple truth was that Julius liked his hugs, and after a succession of spilled drinks and smashed plates, he had started to automatically use telekinesis on anything his family was carrying before going in for one.
"But I should be the one asking the questions." Xander continued. "What brings you to Skyrim? Last I heard you were still working in Summerset."
"Classified, sadly." Julius sighed. "Unless I'm allowed to start spilling top level secrets..." he glanced across at Elenwen, received a raised eyebrow. "That's a no, isn't it? Then let's go with the fact that I received your letter and wanted to come and see you. Saving Nirn and taking over a school? That all you wanted to do in the span of the same hour?"
"Well, I was having an off day." Xander shrugged, theatrically. There was laughter from around them, and he realised that their meeting had drawn a crowd.
Elenwen picked up on it fairly quickly, raising her voice. "For those of you just now joining us, this is Julius Meteuse. The lead Imperial ambassador to the Thalmor coalition, and one of the most talented mages I know. Across from him is his brother Alexander Meteuse, the Archmage of the College of Winterhold."
There were appreciative 'oooh!'s from the crowd.
"It's a pleasure to be here." Xander spoke up, looking around and trying to meet as many eyes as he could. "To clarify, the College's goal remains the same as it always was: Sit in the most inhospitable part of the country and shiver. As well as research and all that nonsense." His joke got further laughs, (aided perhaps by his brothers', which had always been incredibly infectious) and he inwardly gave himself a high five. The humility, juxtaposed with his burgeoning reputation, would hopefully give the impression that he was a powerful ally but not a competitor for success or favour. Doubly so if Julius caught on and started implying the same thing throughout the party. Which, of course, he would.
Xander gestured with an arm and continued, "If you're looking for political power, you're best off cozying up to my brother." Which leaves unsaid that...
"And if you're looking for magical assistance, you're best off asking my brother." Julius finished, smiling.
Yes! This is why we call you the king!
With that, every box was ticked. Nobody would fault him wanting to spend time talking with his brother, so he could relax, catch up, and-
"Though I do wonder which of you has ended up the better mage..." Elenwen mused, very loudly and very deliberately.
"Hm?" Xander asked, very politely and very anxiously.
"Oh, forgive me, Elven ramblings." The Emissary waved a hand. "Put a pair of magical siblings in front of me and I can't help but wonder which would win in a mage duel."
There was some excited muttering from the crowd of people.
Xander's social self defence mechanisms immediately kicked in, and he laughed. "Oh, don't wonder. My brother graduated the Synod before I'd even joined. The last time we fought he wiped the floor with me."
"But that was a few years ago..." Julius said, giving him a pointed look.
Everyone looked back at Xander, who shut his mouth and thought.
On the one hand, he had come here intending the exact opposite of picking a fight. On the other hand, his brother's offer was clear: 'Do you want a chance to avoid Elenwen's prying for a while and show off your abilities to the peanut gallery?'
On the one hand, he was absolutely doomed.
On the other hand...what if he wasn't?
"...It has been a few years, hasn't it?" Xander mused, hearing the crowd 'ooh!' at the remark. He turned his head towards them, and smiled. "I mean, if you would like to see it..."
The noise that resulted didn't really contain words, but it was easy enough to interpret.
"Well?" Julius turned to Elenwen.
"The central courtyard should do." She smiled, turning. "Come, everyone! You're in for a treat!"
And so, all four Meteuse siblings are revealed. The impulsive prodigy, the insecure trickster, the social genius, and the Gary Stu. More from Julius next chapter, which is fun, because I've been building this guy up months now.
Hjar finally arrives at the DB cabin, and things are...much different to canon. Come on, how boring did you think I would be? Butterflies, baby, and all of Hjar's prior commitments are appearing at once.
Meanwhile L'laarzen is just on timeout. You can't go picking fights with superhumans and expect no consequences from it. Trust me, this isn't going to be something that gets fixed after a quick chat with a healer.
And from the looks of things, our Disasters are going to continue to be separate for longer than I anticipated. The first meetup is going to be two chapters from now, at least. Eh, I'll make it work.
Next Time: Someone has some sibling troubles, someone talks to an animal, and someone does some maths.