Speeches
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"I surrender." Dulurza said, loudly and calmly.
"What?" Said Cassia, and
"What?" Said Bolgier, and
"What?" Said Larak, and
"What?" Said the other chiefs, and
What? Said Potema in Elisif's head, and
"Ooooooh!" Said the other Orcs watching the fight.
Elisif, however, did not say anything. She had been provided with a chair next to all the chiefs to watch the fight from, and her fingers gripped the gnarled wood hard enough to give herself splinters.
She's making a play. Elisif explained.
A play? Potema clarified. By losing?
She won the fight; everyone can see that. But now she's showing mercy, and humility. The tribes know she can beat her sister, but now she's submitting to her authority.
Which means nothing if Borgakh cleaves her head in!
Then have a spell ready!
It seemed like the entire clearing was holding its breath.
Borgakh stared down at Dulurza. Both of them were panting for breath, but otherwise completely still.
Then Borgakh reached out. Picked the axe out of Dulurza's hands. Inspected it for a moment. Opened her mouth.
"I accept. Stand up, sister."
"HWAAAAAAAAAAGH!" exploded the crowd, along with an assortment of other cheers, whoops, hollers, and general excitement.
Elisif sagged back into her chair, nerveless from relief. Sweet merciful Divines—
Don't thank them, thank your girl for getting a good read on her sister. And focus! This isn't over yet!
"ALRIGHT YOU LOT, SHUT IT!" Borgakh hollered. She handed Dulurza her axe back as she stood, before continuing "I HOPE YOU'VE ENJOYED YOUR SHOW, BECAUSE I'VE GOT A THING OR TWO TO SHARE!"
The crowd quietened, and Borgakh was able to shout at a more sensible volume.
"Now I was all up for tearing a great big hole into the walls of Solitude and having a proper go at the Empire, but guess what? We've been lied to!" She slammed the butt of Volendrung into the ground to punctuate the point, calling "There is an impostor among us!"
The crowd made appropriate crowd noises in response to that, muttering amongst each other and booing at the very concept.
Chief Larak stood from his seat and started walking back towards his longhouse. And he did it so calmly and so confidently, it took Elisif a few seconds to register how strange it was.
"The same bastards have been sticking their claws into us, and Solitude!" Borgakh continued. "Trying to get us to kill each other for their amusement! That's what Dulurza went back to the city to learn!"
One of the other chiefs stood up and pointed at Dulurza, calling "But she's a traitor!"
"No, she isn't!" Borgakh managed a full-on laugh. "We pretended she was!" She turned to Dulurza, and prompted "Tell them what you learned, sister."
Oh…clever little greenskin. Potema remarked. That's a good one.
The question then became whether Dulurza would play along. She did look panicked for a moment, but quickly recovered, coughing and shouting "Aye, it's true! It's the Thalmor! The Elves from Summerset who've been puppeting damn near everyone in this country! They sicced a witch on Solitude's Jarl to try and take over the city, and now they're doing the same here!"
"And they've been conspiring with one of us!" Borgakh roared. "Tempting one of our own into starting a war with Solitude! Bringing about a conflict with no purpose, putting our mothers and children in danger for nothing!"
At this point, the Orcs appeared outraged. It was impressive to see, how the anger that had first been pointed squarely at Elisif was now shifting to a brand new target.
You should take notes, dearie, the second fiddle sister is actually good at this. Potema pointed out.
I'm a little more preoccupied by the fact that Dulurza is helping aim an orc army At Our Allies. Elisif pointed out. If the Thalmor blame us for this, we could be in serious trouble! Especially since we don't have any proof—
The train of thought jolted to a stop, and Elisif gasped.
What is it?
The invisible watcher! Are they still here?
"What I have to say next, doesn't bring me any joy." Borgakh warned the surrounding Orcs. "But what I have suspected for some time has been proven true. The one who betrayed us all…was my own father."
Gasps, boos, shocked outcry. Dulurza and Borgakh both turned to the seats where the Chieftans sat. "Well, Larak? Chief of Mor Khazgur? What do you have to—where did he go."
Both Larak and Elisif's chairs were empty.
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"Just sit still, won't you? If you bleed out now I'll be furious."
"I'm not moving—Ow, easy! When did you learn to heal?"
"I grew up in a Forsworn camp, sweet cheeks, we all know a little."
Kaie continued to run glowing golden hands across Hjar's pretty-much-completely-exposed body, clotting the worst of her wounds.
"And where were you for all of that, exactly?" Hjar huffed.
"Excuse me?" Kaie snapped, eyes flashing dangerously. "I just saved your life!"
"Might not have needed to if you'd come and warned us, or actually stopped the—"
"A dozen people in full armour came through the door to the cave, what was I supposed to do? I hid!"
"Hmph. Alright—"
"Next time I'll just let you die, shall I, and—"
"Kaie!" Hjar interrupted, raising a hand to forestall her. "I'm sorry. Thank you for saving me."
"Oh." Kaie coughed. "Well, you know. You…might be a good person to have in charge of the Reach. For lack of other options. I'm not letting everything collapse into chaos if you die to some bloody…bounty hunters."
"I'll take it." Hjar said, chuckling. Then again, she knew they weren't bounty hunters. They were an indicator of something much worse.
Logrolf. Still alive. You've gotta be kidding me…
"Margret?" She asked, propping herself up on her elbows and turning. "You okay?"
The Nord woman was sitting in a pile of her own fur, nude and blinking rapidly. "I…think so?" She said. "That sort of came out of nowhere, still processing it…did I eat anyone?"
"Don't know, wasn't looking." Hjar felt her stomach growl, and winced. "Wish I'd eaten someone. I'm bloody hungry. I don't even know what I did at the end there, but it was exhausting."
"Hjar!" Margret exclaimed.
"Hehe, kidding. Mostly. Can I get my ring back?"
"Oh, right." Margret pulled the Ring of Hircine off her hand and tossed it over, then went scouring for something to wear.
Hjar slid it back where it belonged, and was immediately met with:
You gotta stop doing that, Hjar.
Hey, Hircine. She thought, guiltily. Look, you're the one that made it so effective.
The random transformation on non-lycanthropes was meant to keep my artefact away from nonbelievers. Not to be used by you to powerup your mate!
Okay sure whatever, hey what was that thing I did at the end there? With the ghost wolves?
You summoned daedra from the Hunting Grounds to assist you. Hircine's voice took on a grudgingly impressed tone. It's a skill any lycanthrope can learn, if they are sufficiently powerful. But the ability to do it outside of one's beast form is incredibly rare.
Ooh, am I special?
You fight with more raw desperation than I have seen in many centuries. I suspect it is that that let you force the power to manifest.
Eh. I'll take that too.
That left two (ish) of her companions checked up on, but still left one more. Hjar turned at an unpleasant rending noise, as Faolan drew out the silver blade that was still buried in his stomach. The metal was steaming as it did so, and the Draugr promptly collapsed to his knees, dropping the weapon to the side.
Oh, right. Silver works on undead too.
Hjar forced herself to her feet and moved over, calling "Faolan? Red Eagle? You alright?"
"I'm dead and I have no heart." Faolan's voice was a faint rattle. "So not in body. But spiritually…yes. I am alright."
He looked down at the floor, and the three swords that resided there. One rusted and black, but still glowing red with flame. One of crimson steel, shimmering in the light. One pure silver, reflecting everything.
"The blade of my fury…the blade of my epiphany…and the blade that slew me." He said, glowing blue eyes looking between each weapon in turn. "A fitting collection. I would ask to be buried with them, but…that would be selfishness again, would it not?"
He looked back up at Hjar. "Take them. You are the leader of the Reach now. Tell all our people that you are my successor, the one who has arisen to do what Red Eagle could not. Save our people, Hjarnagredda."
"I will try." Hjar agreed, voice heavy. She was feeling oddly attached to the zombie she had met ten minutes ago.
"Then my work is done." Faolan looked up to the ceiling, and beyond. "A death that had meaning. Finally…"
The light in his eyes dimmed, then faded entirely. He collapsed, lifeless, to the stone of his tomb.
Silence reigned.
"…So, do I get the silver one, or the angry one?" Kaie asked.
"Right?" Margret exclaimed. "I was just thinking that! Because obviously Hjar gets the fancy one—"
"Even though I pulled it out of the stone, yeah, obviously, but I'm not sure what's thematically appropriate for—"
"Guys, come on." Hjar groaned. "Help me rebury this poor sod…"
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Thalmor agent Ancarion tripped on a tree root, and went sprawling face-down in the dirt.
He groaned, spat out some muck, and got back to his feet. Should have just taken that job on Solstheim…
Looking for Stalhrim had sounded impossible, hence why he had pulled strings to get this assignment instead. The Lady Elenwen did not suffer failure lightly. But now it seemed that success was getting further and further out of reach…
He glanced behind himself, looking through the trees with a frantic eye. There was no sign of any Orcs on his trail.
Hah. Beasts have probably never even heard of an invisibility spell, never mind had to face one. Come on, Ancarion, we can still turn this into a victory. Check we're safe, then get back there. Toss a fury spell in the right place, and it won't matter how many pretty speeches their leader gives. Blood will spill, and then—
"Are you quite alright there?"
His eyes widened. He spun on the spot, tracing the source of the words…then sighed in relief.
"Jarl Elisif!" He exclaimed, recognising the beautiful (for a Nord) features of Solitude's ruler. How did she…never mind. "I am fine, but are you alright? Did those savages harm you?"
"No, they've been quite accommodating. I'm starting to feel rather rude for leaving, actually, but I had to come and greet you." Elisif tilted her head. "Why are you here, agent?"
"I was sent to watch over you!" He said, the lie coming to his lips quickly. It was one he had rehearsed ahead of time as a contingency. "Once the Thalmor learned of these ghastly events, we of course had to ensure the defence of our allies. Quickly, I will escort you back to the city before any of those beasts can—"
"I think not." Elisif interrupted him, primly. "Instead, how about you and I head back over to Mor Khazgur, and you explain to them how exactly you conspired to cause an attack on my city?"
Ancarion's jaw dropped. What the—How did she — "I—"
"That was an order, not a request, in case that wasn't clear." Elisif clarified. "You're under arrest. Can I do that? I can probably do that."
Ancarion's jaw clacked shut.
…Okay, nope. He conjured up a pacify spell in his left hand and lobbed it at her. The situation was rapidly spiralling out of control, now that she knew he couldn't very well take her back, but he still had an opportunity to succeed here: She'd made the mistake of separating from her lumbering Thane. Get her docile, drag her with me back to the Orc camp, put a fury spell over her mind and a dagger in her hand, and—
Elisif caught the spell. Just. Caught it. The ball of green light flickered in her hand, and she turned it over, inspecting it critically. "Hm. Fairly amateur work, but I've seen worse."
Then she thrust out her other hand at him. He felt the air around him constrict, as he was flung backwards into a tree, then dragged higher up it and suspended there.
"W—What —" He coughed and gasped, trying to get air back into his lungs, "But—but Elisif isn't a mage!"
The woman tilted her head at him and smiled, cruelly. "No. She isn't."
8˂̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶̶ ̶{o
Xander, L'laarzen, and Cicero stopped to sleep in the forests near Morthal. They could have finished the journey to Solitude in a few more hours (the fastest way to travel was still, genuinely, to have the three of them squash uncomfortably close on Shadowmere's back), but they agreed it was best to stop and enter the city the following morning.
This was also the spot where they planned to kill Cicero.
"The posh git could have given us a little more warning…" Xander groused, sheafing through the papers of the assassination contract. "This wedding we're interrupting is tomorrow."
"Khajiit suspects he planned to be met many weeks earlier." L'laarzen pointed out, feeding some sticks into the fire. "But, it would have been impossible before the day you were found, Xander. Amusing, no? Motierre's secrecy means there would have been no rumours of his Black Sacrament to be picked up on. If the previous sanctuary had not fallen, perhaps you never would have become Listener."
"Well, then, maybe it was a good thing!" Said Cicero, cheerfully. He had a fox sat in his lap, of all things, one he had found while they were setting up camp. How he had managed to befriend the thing Xander had no idea. But he had named it Uzu, and was stroking its fur and feeding it bits of hardtack.
"I've always wondered how Astrid managed to lead a sanctuary without a Listener." The jester continued, sighing almost wistfully. "I mean, it sounds almost heretical to me. Ah, well. She's gone now!"
"Indeed. Excuse this one." L'laarzen's ears twitched, and she stood. That happened a lot, Xander noticed. Almost every time Cicero spoke, L'laarzen got this…twitch. She had confided in him earlier that the jester's persona deeply troubled her. Completely inseparable from that of a cheery, harmless fool—Even as he spoke of torturing men to death.
I mean, it bothers me too, but so do a lot of things. I've never known anyone to make L'laarzen frightened.
She appeared to be moving around to grab the kettle from their supply pack, and it was such an unobtrusive motion, it took Xander a second to realise that her path would take her right behind the sitting Cicero's back.
He tried not to tense. "Still, it could be a problem," he said, surreptitiously checking Dawnbreaker was within reach, "We've got one day to get into the city, find the target, come up with a plan and execute it."
"Oh, I know!" Cicero giggled. L'laarzen stepped calmly up behind him, posture totally relaxed, but with her claws glinting in the firelight—
Crack.
Xander flinched.
The fox in Cicero's hands spasmed once, then went still. Cicero removed his hands from around the thing's head, and smiled. "Won't it be fun?"
L'laarzen stood frozen in place for a few seconds. Then said "Excuse L'laarzen, she needs to relieve herself." And walked briskly further out into the woods.
"Uh—Alright, be safe." No no come on don't leave me with him— Xander breathed out, heavily, and went back to checking his things.
"…Listener?"
Xander glanced back. Cicero had pulled one of his many knives, and was cutting down the fox's belly.
"Yes, Cicero?"
"Would you like to kill me?" The jester asked, calmly meeting his eyes.
"P—Pardon?" Xander replied, heart rate spiking.
"Kill poor Cicero. Do me in. Slit me in two. Rend me open." Cicero clarified. "Your partner wants to, you see, and I'm not quite sure whether you're working with her on that or if I need to kill her first."
"Uh." Bugger, stall— "L'laarzen's not that kind of person, she wouldn't—"
"Because if you want me dead, I could do that for you." Cicero raised the knife, still dripping fox guts, and held it up next to his own throat. "If you'd like to fight me, of course I can accommodate you, but if you're only after the final result it might be easier for me to spare you the trouble. Just making it clear the option's there."
"I, uh…you…" Xander's brain ground to a halt. "You'd. Do that?"
"But of course." This was the most lucid Cicero had ever looked. The jester's usual giggles, twitches and manic posturing were gone; he was sitting perfectly still and perfectly calm. Meeting Xander's eyes with a blade to his own throat. "You are my Listener. I serve the Night Mother, which means that I serve you. My life is yours, to wield or take away at a whim; as are the lives of anyone and anything else I can get my grubby little hands on."
Xander licked his lips. "But…you need me to complete the contracts, right? Otherwise I'm not doing my job, and—"
"I have served my goddess for twenty one of my thirty two years of life, Listener." Cicero interrupted. "In that time I gave my everything to her, and never once wavered. But, despite my loyal service, she never spoke to me…except for once. When she reaffirmed to all of us that you are her chosen instrument." He shivered on the spot. "The joy I felt in that moment…the vindication! I know now that it is my duty to serve you in all things."
Cicero grinned anew. "If you choose not to complete a contract, you must be right, and I must obey. If you choose to kill me, you must be right, and I must obey. If you wish for me to come into your bed, or mutilate myself, or spend my life collecting acorns? You must be right, and I must obey."
…Sithis' left testicle. "You're insane." Xander uttered.
"I'm aware." Cicero nodded.
Xander stared at him for a few seconds. Then, carefully, "We're not going to kill the Emperor."
"Very well." Cicero said, primly.
"And the other assassins won't like that, so we're probably going to have to kill them." Xander continued.
"Just give me the word." Cicero replied, expression not changing one bit.
…hhhhooooookay. This…this is going to take some getting used to.
"Take that knife away from your throat." He instructed, "And finish preparing that fox, I'm starving."
"As you command, Listener." Cicero giggled, and obeyed.
It was about that time that L'laarzen emerged from the trees (or at least, about that time that she chose to reveal herself). She gave him a concerned look. "Is everything alright, friend?"
"I think so." Xander breathed out, heavily, and ran a hand through his hair. "You can stand down on the plan, L'laarzen. We've worked something out."
Cicero leaned backwards, until he was staring behind himself and upside-down at her. "You and I can be friends now! Isn't that great?"
L'laarzen looked between him and Xander a few times.
"…Are you sure we can't just kill him?"
"Yes."
"Yes we can or yes—"
"No."
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Three women walked into Druadach redoubt. Hjar's sword a luminous red, Margret's a shining silver, Kaie's a darkly glowing black.
Hjar didn't really need a sword, because she had the mace of a Daedra, and the other two had swapped swords about six times as they made their way back because they still weren't sure who should have which. But the Forsworn didn't need to know any of that.
Their return drew stares, then shouts, then a whole lot of bustling excitement. Hjar moved into the central area where she usually gave speeches, because let's face it, she was definitely going to have to give a bloody speech.
I cannot be bothered to give a speech. I'm exhausted, I've been stabbed, I just learned the world's most petty daedra worshipper still wants to kill me, and all I wanna do is go lie in bed with my girlfriend. Is it lie or lay? I don't care. These are my thoughts its not like anyone's reading them.
"Alright, savages and gentlesavages!" She shouted, causing the growing crowd to settle down. "I bring excellent news!"
She paused to build suspense. Then, "We have successfully brought the Forsworn at Red Eagle Towers over to our side!"
There was some cheering. Not much.
"Alright, that's it. Bye." Hjar waved, and then started walking away.
"Hjar!" Margret hissed.
"What?"
"You know what!"
"Ugh. Fine." Hjar rolled her eyes and turned back. "Oh, and also! Totally forgot. I retrieved Red Eagle's fury, journeyed to his tomb, awoke him from his centuries-old slumber, discussed the future of our nation with him, helped him slay some of our enemies soldiers, and got him to entrust me with the fate of our people." She raised her sword (Red Eagle's Redemption? Bit of a mouthful, isn't it?) and it shone extra brightly as though recognising the moment. "Behold, his legendary blade. But, you know, don't get too excited—"
The crowd exploded.
Cheering, roaring, chanting, parents picking up their children, throwing articles of clothing in the air, the cave rumbled and the skies opened, the Greybeards spoke of it, Tiber Septim was there—
"We're all going to die." Kaie sighed.
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"Cheers!"
Mugs of ale clinked together, and everyone drank.
"Agh, good stuff." Borgakh wiped her mouth, and then leaned forward, putting her drink on the ground. "Alright, alright, but we need to be official about this though. Properly official. The bigger a deal this looks, the less likely the tribes are to go 'hang on, weren't we supposed to be attacking the city a few days ago?'"
"Official?" Elisif snorted, in a very unladylike manner. "How does a collection of Orc tribes do anything official?"
Borgakh, Dulurza, and Elisif were sat together about a firepit. The sun had set some time ago, and dozens of fires had sprung up around Mor Khazgur as the tribes all decided unanimously that it was time for a party. Cassia (after doing her best to heal the two warriors' injuries) was off somewhere enjoying herself, and even Bolgier (with a few drinks in him, and his Jarl's repeated shooing) had vanished at some point in the evening.
"Plenty of ways." Dulurza answered for her sister, taking another swig of her own. "Trading gifts is a big one. Tribes mark new alliances by favouring each other with ceremonial weapons, artefacts, uh…"
"Marriages?" Borgakh offered, grinning smugly. "We could do a marriage."
Dulurza coughed on her drink, while Elisif laughed. "I think that might be harder to arrange. Unless one of our companions gets a little drunker than expected tonight…"
"Aye. Piss off, sister." Dulurza answered, a little more simply. "I'm already serving as Elisif's Thane. We make that out as a new thing, it'll be a big deal. Then maybe we can give you Tullius' sword, or something."
"For saving him from having to fight another war, I think he'd pay that price with a smile on his face." Elisif pointed out with a wide grin.
Dulurza glanced across at her Jarl. It may have just been the fire, but Elisif's cheeks were looking quite red. Heh. Slip of a woman, had a little more ale than she should.
"We might want to be heading back." She advised, giving Elisif a pointed look. "It's late."
"Already?" Borgakh groaned. "It'd take you an hour to reach Solitude on horseback, longer in the dark. Sure you don't want to stay the night?"
Elisif sighed. "Ugh, if only. Cassia messaged them that we were staying longer to negotiate, but if it passes midnight and we're not back, I expect Octavia will be out with a hit squad to retrieve me. Honestly, its not like I have anything to…oh, right. The bloody wedding. That certainly snuck up on me…" She stood up. "I'll go find the other two, you—" She pointed a warning finger at Dulurza, who had begun to rise, "—stay here and talk to your sister. I'll be fine."
Dulurza chuckled, and watched Elisif go.
It didn't occur that Borgakh was still watching her until the elder sibling said "You are really smitten, aren't you?"
Dulurza looked sharply back at her. Then sighed. "Utterly."
"Bloody maniac..."
"Shut it."
"I mean I know there's not a lot of good looking lads in Mor Khazgur, but you really went—"
"Don't." Dulurza put her head in her hands and groaned, eliciting a belly-laugh from her sister.
"Where's the Elf?" Dulurza croaked, not looking up.
"Uuuuh…dunno." Borgakh replied. "Last I checked, Yamarz and Mauhulakh were throwing axes at him, seeing who could get the closest without drawing blood."
"Great. They'd better not have killed him, we need him for—"
"Questioning, I know. What's gonna happen to the bastard? You tried to explain, but I don't understand the deal with you and the Thalmor at all."
"We get a proper confession, and then we show it to the Elves." Dulurza leaned backwards, thinking. "Elisif says they'll probably cut him off, claim no responsibility, throw him to the wolves. At that point you can probably have him back, do what you want with him."
She looked back down at Borgakh. "What about you? This many Orcs can't live on this land, you know that."
"Aye, aye…" Borgakh breathed out, heavily. "Don't know. Been thinking about it ever since the fight, but…Malacath, its hard. Do I just tell everyone to go back to their strongholds? Feels like a bit of a wasted chance, doesn't it?"
"For what?" Dulurza asked. "Orsinium?"
"Aye, maybe." It was Borgakh's turn to look to the sky. "No better time, right? Go find the tiny little city calling itself Orsinium, in the mountains between Skyrim and Hammerfell, and…Make it a proper kingdom again. With the Empire the way it is, not like they could stop us."
"Might be. But then you've got to think about what happens ten, twenty years down the line." Dulurza looked over in the direction of the chief's longhut. Sighed again. "Wish we could ask dad."
Borgakh followed her gaze. "Aye. Wish we could…"
They met each other's eyes again.
"Where in Oblivion did he go, Dulurza?" Borgakh asked, perhaps a little pointlessly.
"Malacath knows." Dulurza replied, mouth forming a thin line. "He just…I can't believe he just went. In the middle of the damn speech! And nobody stopped him! How does an Orc get away with that?"
"I'm more bothered by how he could make himself do it." Borgakh countered. "Where's his honour? I've never known him to be scared of anything, and then…what now? Why now? Where does he even go?" Her fists tightened. "Why didn't he even stop to say anything? Or leave us a bloody note, or…something. He's just gone."
"Coward." Dulurza grunted.
"Bastard." Borgakh agreed.
"Aye." Dulurza looked down. "…But he's our father though."
"He is." Borgakh agreed. "And family matters."
There was a pause. Both sisters were quiet for a time.
Borgakh took another swig from her drink. Then said "Dulurza —"
"I'm sorry." Dulurza cut across her. "For the clearing. I hadn't realised until right that moment that I wasn't going to go through with it, but…but I should have. I was being stupid. I should have talked to you, I should have explained, I should have…I mean, look at all this!" She gestured vaguely at the crowds. "I fall for a woman and look what it led to!"
"Hmph." Borgakh followed Dulurza's arm with her eyes, and smiled. "Well, it's not all bad. They'll tell stories about this, at least. Imagine that; kids a hundred years from now telling stories about us." The smile fell. "I'm sorry for being such a jealous bitch of a sister."
Dulurza grimaced. "You weren't—"
"Course I was. I still am. Look at you. A year and a half younger than me, and you're the better warrior by far—And don't you dare try and deny that. You just beat me while I had Volendrung."
"Cheap shot, though." Dulurza admitted, with a small smile.
"Aye, it was. 'And access to your inner thigh'…Heh. Can't believe I fell for that." Borgakh licked her lips. "But I don't mind so much now. I haven't got room for the jealousy; I've got a tribe to run. I've got people to lead. I can be proud of that, I think."
"I'm glad." Dulurza admitted. "You…, I meant it when I said I was happy for you, Borgakh. I never minded being second sister. I was just glad to be your sister."
"Malacath, don't get all mushy on me…" Borgakh sniffed, wiped her nose. Looked up and smiled. "I love you, Dulurza."
"Love you too, Borgakh."
They both quietly shared another drink. Borgakh tipped her mug over, found it empty, and tossed it to the side, sighing. "Right. Go get your Jarl before she does something dangerous. Or passes out. Then you'd have to carry her back to Solitude—Or would you like that?"
"Piss off." Dulurza chuckled, standing. "I'll find her. Don't do anything I wouldn't do until this is finalised."
"What? Men? You can't stop me doing men, Dulurza—"
"Oh you piss off!" Dulurza slugged Borgakh in the shoulder, dodged the answering punch with a laugh, and went out in search of her Jarl.
The ride back to Solitude was uneventful. Four horses, five occupants. The one sharing with Dulurza was dissapointingly not Elisif, but a snoring Anakamalama-whateverhewascalled. The Thalmor git was out cold, slung over the back of Dulurza's mount.
It wasn't long to the road, and then a relatively smooth ride back to the city. Dulurza alternated between looking up at the stars, and over at Elisif. Elisif, who appeared to be doing the same, and always had a sly smile for Dulurza whenever their eyes met.
Octavia was stood at the gate waiting for them, tapping her foot and making an unimpressed face. But they were led through with minimal pomp, and by this point it was well after midnight, so there weren't many in the city to witness their strange procession travel through the streets.
Dulurza helped Elisif off her horse at the stables. Octavia and two of her men took the Thalmor, promised to take care of him, and promptly dismissed themselves. The remaining four of them walked into the Blue Palace. Cassia left for her quarters, Bolgier (at Elisif's nod) left for his own.
It was in the corridor outside Elisif's room when it happened.
Dulurza had stayed at Elisif's side without even thinking about it, and it was only at the door that she realised she would have to leave. Elisif's hand fell to the door handle, but before opening it she looked across at her Thane.
Their eyes met. Dulurza saw something in her Jarl's eyes, gods, had they always been that shade of—
And then she leaned in and pressed her lips onto Elisif's.
Elisif stiffened, and Dulurza panicked for barely a moment, but then Elisif pressed her own lips back, her body pushing forwards against Dulurza's, and then then their arms were wrapping around each other, and Dulurza went in at an angle, kissing harder, more insistently, and Elisif was so damn warm and soft and there, and so Dulurza pushed forwards, Elisif stumbling backwards into the wall which wasn't a problem because it just opened her up more for—
"Ngh, wait—"
She was talking, which she shouldn't be doing because those lips could be—
"Dulurza, stop."
Dulurza stopped, barely, bringing her head back just far enough to lock eyes with her and ask "Why?"
"Because—" Elisif was flustered, she looked completely bedraggled and sweet mercy it was hot— "Because we—you, we—Divines, give me some space, please!"
Dulurza grit her teeth and backed away, removing her arms from either side of Elisif's head and standing on the other side of the corridor, panting slightly. "What? Was that not good?"
"No—yes! I—I don't know, I—" Elisif put a hand to her forehead, also panting, eyes wide. "Oh, Talos, I just did that. I just…no, this can't, Dulurza I can't—"
"Why?" Dulurza asked again, desperately, but it was rapidly dawning on her that it was the night after battle and she was down at least four mugs of ale and Oh dear lord Malacath what in Oblivion Was I Thinking—
"I—" She tried to think of something to say, if she could maybe salvage the moment because it was quickly slipping away "Elisif, I wasn't—"
"I'm going to bed." Elisif said, firmly, after taking a deep breath. "Tomorrow will be busy, and today was very exhausting, and I understand if everyone's feeling emotional—"
She reached back for the doorhandle.
Dulurza gaped at the sheer audacity of the move. "Elisif, are you—"
"Good night, Dulurza —"
"Elisif." Dulurza's voice was urgent, and it made her Jarl stop halfway through the door.
There was…so, so much to say. But all Dulurza could manage was "Please don't shut me out again."
Elisif was shaking. She was actually, visibly shaking. "I won't." She said. "I can't. Not anymore."
But still, she walked through into her room, and closed the door.
Dulurza stared at it for almost five minutes before walking stiffly back to her room.
...lets talk about everything else first.
Cicero is damn hard to write, you know that? Guy has such a unique way of speaking. But he's basically escalated to the state he was in after you spare him in the game. 'And now I serve you, Reclaimer. As I always should have.'
(wait wrong franchise-)
Red Eagle struck me as a really interesting character who never really got the attention he should have. It's always an interesting task to try and flesh out an already existing character like I did with him. But hey, that's basically what I've done with Margret, Borgakh, Mirabelle, Potema, and-Well. That's sort of what this fic is, isn't it? Odyssey of the side characters.
...okay that's it we can get back to the Dulurza bit.
TWO HUNDRED NINETY THOUSAND WORDS building up to one kiss, and then I have the nerve to delay this pairing even further. You can hate me in the reviews. Point is, the romance I've been teasing this whole time is now finally made explicit by the relevant characaters. Not that that's enough to solve everything, of course. Enjoy your morsels, readers, this burn is slow.
Next Time: Someone considers a wedding, someone attends a wedding, and someone sneaks into a wedding.