Last Time:
Hjarnagredda, fighting tooth and nail for every minuscule concession and scrap of respect, is making progress towards a united Reach.
And now apparently Thongvor Silver-Blood wants into her pants.
Dulurza, fighting foes from without and within, has finally managed to befriend both Borgakh and Potema and keep her Jarl reasonably safe.
And now Elisif knows Dulurza wants into her pants.
Alexander and L'laarzen, working together, were able to hatch a plan with which to kill or pacify everyone in the Dark Brotherhood.
And then Vittoria Vicci got shanked right in front of them.
But hey, at least the Dragonborn was able to get the Elder Scroll he wanted!
Act V: Getting Political
No, Seriously, Marriage?
8˂̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶̶ ̶{o
Alexander Meteuse stormed into the Bannered Mare; robed, mask on, not giving a damn what anyone thought of his appearance. He pushed one confused Nord aside and strode up to the side door he'd entered once before, putting a hand to the handle. Locked, it didn't budge, so he flicked his wrist and activated the flame spell stored in his bracer, melting a hole in the metal and allowing the door to open.
The two men inside were already alert and on their feet as he entered. The guard, Rexus, drew his sword and quickly squared up to Xander, demanding "What is the meaning of—"
"Feim." Xander went ethereal, walking straight through the man's body to approach the noble stumbling further back into the room.
Amaund Motierre barely managed to squeak "Wait—" before Xander ended the etherealness, grabbed him by the lapels and slammed him back into the wall.
"You dare betray the trust of the Brotherhood?" Xander hissed through his mask.
Rexus turned quickly to confront Xander again, only to freeze as an arm wrapped around him and razor-sharp claws dug into his neck.
"Perhaps the friend should stay still, hmm?" L'laarzen whispered into his ear, after kicking the door closed behind her.
"I—I don't know what you're talking about!" Motierre cried, desperately. "Betray you? I never—"
"The Morag Tong." Xander uttered, staring into the terrified noble's eyes. "You sent them to steal our kill in Solitude. Did you expect no consequences for this?"
"The Morag Tong?" Amaund gasped, looking genuinely baffled. "What? I've never so much as interacted with them! They only operate in Morrowind!"
"And yet they are here." Xander repeated, emphasising the point by slamming Motierre back into the wall. "In Skyrim, killing Vittoria Vicci. Why?"
"I don't know—"
"LIAR!"
"I'm not!" Motierre practically sobbed the words, eyes wide and wet. "Please, you have to believe me, I—How could I? Why would I? I've spent months sitting in Volenruud of all places!"
"So you say." Xander growled. "How long has it been since you thought we were destroyed? Long enough, perhaps, to swap to a different organisation to carry out your scheme? After all, you already had the money, already had the plan."
"I wouldn't! I didn't!" Motierre protested. "And, what, do you think me suicidal? If I had changed contractor I would have told you, it's not like you wouldn't have realised! Or if not, fled your wrath when you found out, not waited here! You've outsped the birds back to me, I didn't even know she was dead!"
"Or this is a bluff, and you think me a fool." Xander said, after a moment to think through his words. "They followed your contract exactly, Amaund. They killed her in the very spot you advised."
"But I'm not even the one who wrote the—" Motierre caught himself, and froze.
Xander froze too, tilting his head at his captive. (L'laarzen and Rexus had been frozen for some time, as well).
"…Who made the plan, Amaund?" Xander asked.
"N—Nobody." Amaund gulped. "Me, I mean, I'm not—"
"How large is this conspiracy, Amaund?"
"There isn't—"
"Because I suspect that your associates went over your head, when the Dark Brotherhood Sanctuary burned."
Xander let the man go.
Amaund sagged down the wall, finding himself on the floor and panting loudly. L'laarzen followed Xander's example, slowly moving her arms away from Rexus' throat. The guard's knuckles were white on his weapons, but he didn't move.
"Names." Xander demanded.
"I don't have any." Amaund said, shaking. "I never—They only ever contacted me by courier, I don't know who they are."
"How unhelpful." L'laarzen spoke up. "Which is a shame, because helpful people are much preferred."
"What are you going to do?" Motierre asked, looking up at Xander.
"…Is our payment still at its dead drop?" Xander asked, after a moment.
"Y—Yes! Of course! Or, at least, it should be—"
"I would advise, Amaund, that you make certain. And perhaps ensure that we are pleasantly surprised by the amount we find." Xander turned away, nodded to L'laarzen, and walked past Rexus without looking at him. He turned at the door, and added "Besides that? Don't go anywhere."
He pushed the door open, walking back into the Bannered Mare proper.
He did have to pause as he did so. Though it was the middle of the day (and so hardly crowded), everyone there was staring at him. That included a Whiterun city guard, stood beside the landlady.
"Ho, there." The guard said, with a warning tone. "I understand that you've been disturbing the peace. Care to explain what happened to that door there?"
"I'm afraid we had the wrong room." Xander lied, deciding it would be inconvenient to implicate their conspirators. He reached into his robes and drew two of his 'problem-solving pouches'; that being, bags containing a hundred gold.
"I apologise for any alarm I may have caused, and for the damage to your property." He dropped one sack into the hand of the guard and one in the woman's, before nodding to them both. "Now, if you will excuse me, I must be on my way."
He and L'laarzen then stepped calmly out the door.
Rexus and a recovering Amaund Motierre spent a few seconds staring silently at the door to their room after it slammed closed.
"…That was a Shout." Rexus said, eventually. "A Dragonshout."
Amaund looked up, met his guard's eyes.
"Does…Ulfric Stormcloak work for the Dark Brotherhood?" Amaund asked.
"Does the Dragonborn work for the Dark Brotherhood?" Rexus countered.
̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ Ϫ
Hjarnagredda stared in open-mouthed shock at Thongvor Silver-Blood.
Thongvor stared at just about everywhere other than her.
"…What?" She repeated, slightly louder than the first time.
"I don't want to say it again it hurt too much the first time." Thongvor mumbled.
"You want to MARRY me?" Hjar demanded.
"No!" Thongvor responded, grimacing at the very idea. "But it might be the best way to—"
"To Oblivion with what it might be, I'm not selling away my life to you!" Hjar looked across at Margret (also standing there in stunned shock) and asked "I'm not dreaming, am I? You're hearing this too?"
Margret nodded her head mutely.
"You don't get to act like you're the poor maiden being press-ganged here." Thongvor stated, pointing a finger at her. "I don't want to spend a second more in your presence either; or have you forgotten that you murdered my brother?"
"Your brother was a slaver, a traitor, and an asshole, and I'm not apologizing." Hjar spat back. "But he did have the redeeming quality of not trying to SLEEP with me."
"I'M NOT TRYING TO SLEEP WITH YOU!" Thongvor roared.
"Producing a child would be beneficial for long-term stability." Verulus spoke up, picking at his teeth with one hand and not making eye contact.
"And you need to chill!" Hjar snapped at him. "I thought you were the reasonable one!"
"This is what reason looks like." Verulus spread his arms. "You're the one who came to us asking for a peaceful solution to the problem. By all means, kill us both and take Markarth by force. But would you really let the Reach burn because you only tried half-heartedly to stop it?"
"If the bitch even has a heart, and she didn't sell it to the Hagravens." Thongvor shot across.
"Half-hearted?" Margret spoke up. "Now you're just pulling insults out of a hat. There's a difference between 'not caring' and 'trying to find a solution that doesn't involve sexing someone that hates you."
"But why take a riskier or higher cost option when this one is available?" Verulus asked, still focusing on Hjar. "If you weren't willing to set pride aside, you wouldn't be here. A loveless marriage is something many nobles in Cyrodiil put up with. Could you not stomach it? To save lives?"
"No!" Hjar shouted. "Because—"
She considered explaining, then decided a visual aid might be better to get it through their thick bloody skulls. So she turned, took two steps to the left, and smashed her lips against Margrets.
It wasn't exactly a fun kiss, but she hadn't really expected it to be. She just maintained pressure for a few seconds while Margret stiffened in surprise, then pulled away, turning and spreading her arms at the two men facing her.
Both of them just stared at her silently, Thonvor visibly dumbfounded while Verulus' mouth formed an 'O' of understanding.
A few seconds passed, during which some of Hjar's anger bled away. She sighed, and let her arms fall back to her sides. "Look, let's just…let's just kill some damn cannibals, alright?"
8˂̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶̶ ̶{o
The place Xander and L'laarzen decided to stop was the same spot they had stopped the last time they'd left Whiterun; out in the nearby fields. Only this time, Cicero was with them.
Xander pulled off the Morokei mask and threw it at the floor, his face tight and angry. "The Morag Tong. The Divines-damned Morag Tong are pilfering the contract!"
"Thieves." Cicero hissed, twitching with fury. "Wretched ash-skin thieves, come to take what is not theirs to take! To rob Sithis of his souls is heresy, to do so after the Listener outlawed the kill is doubly so! Oh, what Cicero will do to them the second he gets his hands near their little necks—"
"How are they even here?" Xander asked, throwing his hands up and looking to the sky. "The rich twerp was right! They're supposed to stay in Morrowind!"
"Expansion." Came L'laarzen's voice. Xander turned to see her pulling down her hood and scarf, staring listlessly into the distance.
"There were discussions of it, before." She continued. "With the Brotherhood's influence waning in Cyrodiil. The Tong already have a presence on Solstheim, and wish to spread further. The chance to slay the Emperor is an opportunity for them to thrust their name into the minds of every noble on Tamriel. They could become the greatest assassin guild in the world."
Xander looked at his friend. Gulped.
"L'laarzen." He said, approaching slowly. "I don't want to pry into your past. You're my friend, and your secrets are your own, but…We need to know what we're dealing with."
She met his eyes. Then flicked her gaze over his shoulder. "It is private."
"Cicero, take a walk." Xander said without looking back, and waited for the sound of the jester's whistling to recede into the distance.
He needed answers; that was the long and the short of it. Because things were rapidly spiralling out of control. Especially considering how he had even managed to escape down to Whiterun…
"Answers." Octavia demanded. Solitude prison was in chaos, guards constantly either bringing in or taking out prisoners. One pair had even been carrying the body of a Mer in Thalmor robes.
Xander was currently standing in one of the cells, facing his sister. L'laarzen was slumped in a corner, staring listlessly into space, and Cicero was skipping happily from wall to wall.
"I would love some too." Xander replied. "Did we get the guy? Could Cass save Vicci?"
"No and no." Octavia replied, tersely. "Don't try and dodge my question. You knew Vittoria was going to be assassinated. How?"
Xander sighed, and didn't try to hide his discomfort. It was perfectly normal for him to be tense in this situation. Even if the tension was for a far different reason than the one he was implying.
"I was visiting Solitude to check in on Dulurza and Elisif." He lied. "When we entered, L'laarzen—" he nodded behind himself at the Khajiit he was cellmates with, "said she spotted some people acting strangely up on the ramparts. I used an invisibility spell to go and have a look."
"You can't cast invisibility." Octavia said, flatly.
"Scrolls, sis." Xander explained. "When I got up there, I saw two people in the armour the killer was wearing. One male, one female. They were discussing the attack they were about to make. The woman was supposed to stay on overwatch while the man made the kill."
"And you let them?" Octavia replied, icily.
"I had barely ten seconds of invis left and I was alone." Xander replied. "I went down to warn L'laarzen, then came directly to you."
Octavia jerked her chin past him. "And the jester?"
Xander looked behind himself at Cicero, and gave a helpless splutter. "Honestly, I have no idea who that is. He was just…there when your men came and tackled us."
"Cicero is but a humble entertainer! A knife juggler here to ply his trade in the festivities." Cicero fell in with the story without so much as a pause. "When he saw the famous dragonslayers, he simply had to go and quiz them about their experiences! Only, then he started to see the bodies…"
Xander saw the moment his sister completely discounted the jester. Cicero was very good at not looking like a violent maniac when he chose to. Instead, Octavia turned back to Xander and asked "You said there was no present danger. That you'd uncovered a plot but Vicci was safe. Why?"
And here was the hardest part, and the most troublesome thing he'd blurted out during his warning.
Xander grimaced, hissing air out through his teeth. "L'laarzen went to get some Imperial soldiers and bring them to intercept the killer. I thought that they'd…I'm sorry. I was stupid."
Because if there were two things he knew Octavia Meteuse would believe, they were:
A) Xander was an imbecile.
B) The common soldiery was incompetent.
She sighed after hearing his words, crossing her arms. "No. You did the right thing. Better to come to me than to try and engage them alone. I apologise for being so reluctant to recognise your concerns. If I'd been faster, this might not have happened."
"This isn't your fault, Oct." Xander reassured, moving closer to the bars.
"What an unhelpful thing for me to think." She wrinkled her nose up, and looked at him. "Was Vittoria their only target? Or was there more?"
And now, more lies. "I'm not sure." Xander answered. "Their words, they…they made it sound like this was part of something bigger. But I don't have any names."
"You're sure?" Octavia checked.
Xander felt his gut twist, but nodded. "I'm sure."
L'laarzen waited for another few minutes after Cicero left, sitting down on the grass and looking at the ground. Eventually, however, she spoke.
"Khajiit's parents were hairdressers." She began, quietly. "The best in Elsweyr. And they were also troublemakers. Both things, L'laarzen inherited. But while she liked sneaking into her neighbours' gardens and unlatching their chickens, her mother and father were troublesome on a much larger scale. They had issues with the Aldmeri Dominion, refuted the claims that they had saved us from the Void Nights. It was…a dangerous opinion to have."
Xander had heard of the Void Nights. That two-year stint a hundred years ago when the moons had just…vanished. It's end had sparked Elsweyr seceding from the Empire.
"And the Thalmor didn't like that?" He reasoned.
"L'laarzen was forced to flee to Morrowind. Alone." She left him to fill in the blanks. "She was young, and afraid, and did what she had to for survival. It is all-too-easy for such youths to be scooped up by the Morag Tong."
"So…you became an assassin?" Xander asked, his throat dry.
"Not at first." L'laarzen replied, not meeting his eye. "Her first task was to pick a man's pocket for a letter he had recently received; Khajiit did not even know her employer was Tong at the time. But they kept offering well-paid work, and she kept accepting." Her fingers began nervously playing with each other as she continued. "It is a large organisation, with many ranks. At first, she was a mere Probationer, an outsider hired for simple tasks. Then she became a Thrall, then a Knower, then a Master. L'laarzen was one of the best, so good that she taught others to kill the way she could. And yes, she killed. Over, and over…"
She sucked in a breath, as Xander sat down on the grass next to her.
"That Dunmer, in Solitude." He said. "You knew him?"
"Vendil Ulen." L'laarzen nodded. "At first, he was an employer. I received a writ to kill the First Councillor of Raven Rock (a town on Solstheim) on his behalf. But Vendil wished to participate in the killing himself. I spent some months teaching him and his ally, Mirri, the basics of our ways. The writ was easy, and Solstheim was left in quite a state following it. But Vendil…after his revenge, he had nothing left. Except that he had become quite skilled as a killer, and in fact quite fond of me. He and Mirri joined the Morag Tong with me. We became close."
"Close, as in…" Xander clarified.
"Some months ago, Vendil and I married." L'laarzen said. Xander almost missed the slight crack in her voice as she said it.
…Mephala's left testicle. "So, you were a skilled assassin with a lucrative career and a husband." Xander summarised. "Then…what happened?"
Because for the life of him, he couldn't correlate the picture she was painting with the cat he'd spent months getting to know.
One side of her lips briefly quirked upwards before returning to a neutral expression.
"L'laarzen went on a honeymoon." She said, flatly.
"And it…went bad?" Xander tried.
L'laarzen shook her head. "It was lovely. Only…During the process, she halted work, took no more writs. It was no problem, she was well respected in the guild, and was hardly in need of the money. Khajiit simply wished to take a month away from the business to plan the ceremony and enjoy some time with her husband."
Her fists clenched, and her eyes squeezed shut. "It was only a month…"
Xander had absolutely no idea what to do. He glanced around as though someone would come and offer advice, then gulped, and prompted "So…What happened?"
L'laarzen's eyes reopened, and she looked down at her hands. "I could not last a month." She uttered.
"Couldn't? You mean, without…"
"Killing." She said.
Xander went very still.
"L'laarzen is forty-six years old." She continued, still looking down. "She has spent more of her life an assassin than she has anything else. And she relished it. The planning. The hunt. The fight. The kill. It was an addiction, Alexander. More potent to this one than skooma, and unlike with moon sugar, the effects could not be countered by alchemy. And all her life she did not realise it, for she never even considered that she should stop."
Her jaw shook. "Until she did. It took two weeks to plan and attend the wedding ceremony, and by then she had become anxious, irritable. While L'laarzen was saying her vows, her mind was drifting to what she could do to the priest officiating it. Another week and she could no longer bear it. So…Khajiit went down alone to a tavern, and began antagonising the drunkards there. They started a fight, as she had hoped, and then she…I killed six people—"
At that, she broke.
L'laarzen slumped forwards and put her head in her hands, taking rapid, shallow breaths. Xander moved closer without thinking, putting a hand on her shoulder. "Hey, easy, it's alright—"
"It's not alright!" She hissed back. "And Khajiit did not see it until she lost control! No writ, no excuses, what should have been the happiest time of her life and she was stood there with blood on her claws, those who had not fled staring at her in horror, and…enjoying it! Khajiit realised that she—That I am a monster!"
She went silent again, covering her face and shaking. She might have been crying, but Xander couldn't tell. He just moved closer, putting one hand around her shoulder and rubbing it in what he hoped was a reassuring motion.
They sat like that for almost five full minutes. Eventually, sniffing, L'laarzen returned her hands to her lap and looked back up.
"L'laarzen fled." She said. "She did not even wake her husband. Just grabbed some emergency supplies and ran into the night. Reached a port, chartered a ship. Arrived in Windhelm, travelled south to Riften. Khajiit swore that she would never kill again, that she would bury her past entirely, buy a house, open a hair parlour. Be liked. Be helpful. She knew she could never hope to undo what she had done, but still, if she could limit herself from any further wrongdoing…heh. And then not an hour into Riften, she met Brynjolf, then Mercer Frey. L'laarzen would like to say that danger follows her, but that would be a lie. She simply cannot help but seek it out, no matter how hard she tries to stop herself."
There was a pause. Xander didn't move.
"You are not running away." L'laarzen observed, after a few seconds.
"No." Xander confirmed. "You helped me when I had my breakdown. I'd have to be a poor friend not to do the same."
"Were you not listening to anything Khajiit just said?" She snapped.
"I did." He nodded. "It doesn't make a difference."
"If you refuse to update your model of L'laarzen based on this, then you are a fool—"
"L'laarzen, look at me. Look at me." He prompted.
For the first time since she had sat down, she did meet his eyes. Hers were bloodshot and tired.
"What you've just told me is disturbing." He admitted. "And I know that my personal distance from the victims is stopping me properly registering how disturbing, but…L'laarzen, you've saved my life. Multiple times. You've saved my sister's life. You have reliably proven yourself to be the nicest person I know."
"As an act!" L'laarzen shouted. "Every smile Khajiit puts on is calculated to—"
"Do you care about me?" Xander cut across her.
"That isn't what this one—"
"Do you. Care about me?" He repeated, staring at her intently.
"…Of course." L'laarzen replied.
"So all those times you've helped me, were they to manipulate me into being your pawn, or because you actually wanted to see me happier?"
"The latter, but—" L'laarzen grimaced, "Alexander, Khajiit murdered the matron of an orphanage in Riften!"
"Okay. Why?" Xander asked, calmly.
"Because—" She sighed. "Because Grelod intended to burn a child for disobedience, but—"
"L'laarzen, you are not the same person who commit murder for a living." Xander told her, as firmly as he could. "Whether or not you want to admit it, you've changed, and changed for the better. Now you may not want to forgive yourself, and that's up to you, but...Even if you enjoy violence too much, even if you're a little too self-aware about the effects your words have, you've had a positive influence on the world since coming to Skyrim. If you were still a monster, you wouldn't have tried so hard to stop me becoming one. And most importantly, if you didn't care, you wouldn't have left Morrowind."
"Khajiit left Morrowind because she was afraid." L'laarzen countered. "Of herself, and then of what she would have to face if she returned."
"There's nothing inherently wrong with fear." Xander pointed out. "If I didn't know what to be afraid of, I'd be dead fifty times over."
"There is if it results in L'laarzen burying her head in the sand." She smiled grimly. "She has been doing so ever since she came here."
"Then it's about time you pulled your head out and started thinking." Xander told her. "Because if we don't, your husband is going to murder Titus Mede the Second. And I can't stop that without your help."
L'larzen winced at the word 'husband'. She glanced down at her hands, then back up at him, and asked "You…truly forgive me for what I have done?"
"Forgiving you for that isn't my place." Xander answered, honestly. "But I meant it when I said you're a good person. And we have an opportunity here to do something that just might make up for some of it. And, uh." He smiled, nervously. "You're…sort of my best friend? So, there's that."
L'laarzen's jaw worked, briefly, before a small smile emerged on her face. "You are still much too kind, Alexander."
"Well, with the world we live in, that can't be a bad thing." Xander pat her shoulder, then leaned backwards, stretching. "So. You know how the Tong operate; I know what their contract is meant to be. Let's see if we can't find a way to catch them out."
̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶̶ ̶ ̶͜͡|
The door shut on Elisif's room. Dulurza locked it with a sigh, and turned to see her jarl laid back on her bed, the most restrictive parts of her dress shed and tossed about the room.
"One day." Elisif groused. "All I want is one day without an impending national emergency. Is that too much to ask? I'll take the war at this point, I'm just sick of everything else!"
"The situation's under control." Dulurza reported, walking over and leaning her axe against a chair. "The Emperor's safe in an 'undisclosed location' for the moment. The killer got away. A dozen people have been arrested for questioning, including Xander and L'laarzen, who are apparently here."
"And Vittoria?" Elisif asked, though there was little hope in her voice.
"Dead before Cassia could get to her." Dulurza replied, gruffly. "Her husband's in protective custody. Half a dozen of his Stormcloak friends are in regular custody, along with three of the guards."
"What? Why?"
"Apparently, some of the guards thought the assassination was the Nords' fault. And some of the Nords thought it was the empire." Dulurza sat down next to Elisif, and glared at the door. "A fight broke out. Two people died before Octavia got it under control."
Elisif swore.
Dulurza looked across in mild shock, as the Jarl sighed and put her hands to her temples. "Wonderful. Whoever did this got exactly the effect they wanted then. At least this time it will be the Emperor's job to fix, not mine."
"About that…" Dulurza's brows furrowed. "Octavia pulled me aside, asked me to help hunting down the killer."
"And what did you tell her?" Elisif asked, looking across at her.
"That my priority was protecting you." Dulurza said, meeting Elisif's gaze. "She said that if the assassin won't target you, you'll be safe either way. If they will, I'm better off stopping them trying ahead of time. Convincing, but…Octavia could convince me the sea isn't blue if she really tried. And this has her stressed, I can tell. I know it's what's best for her, not if its what's best for you."
Elisif pursed her lips. "So what do you want to do?"
"I want to ask you." Dulurza replied, shrugging.
That merited a small smile. "Go." Elisif instructed. "Anyone trying to kill me would know about you. They wouldn't be expecting Potema. I'll be fine, I should hope, and catching the perpetrator would be a great reassurance to my people. Might even mend some of the bridges they tried to burn."
"Got it." Dulurza made as if to get up, then stopped halfway. "Um. While we're here, should we…discuss last night?"
Elisif immediately felt herself cringe at Dulurza's suggestion.
"Now?" She said. "After a woman just died?"
"Unless you want to be thinking about it for the entire time I'm gone." Dulurza pointed out.
Ooh. She's got you there. Potema pointed out.
Can you not? Elisif gave the mental equivalent of a sigh. This is a private conversation.
Why? I was there for the kiss.
You were WHAT? Elisif's eyebrows rose. POTEMA!
You didn't exactly give me much chance to isolate. Potema's grin was audible. I mean one moment you were going to bed, and the next she was just in there and—
SHUT.
"Sorry, tenant trouble." Elisif shook her head, recognising that she'd spent a few seconds talking to herself. "Yes, I suppose we should talk."
Dulurza sat back down. Elisif looked at her lap, and wondered how in Oblivion she was going to play this conversation. How she was going to start it.
Dulurza started it for her.
"We…kissed." Said the Orc.
"You kissed me." Elisif corrected.
"You kissed me back!" Dulurza protested.
"Well yes but—" Elisif cut herself off. Because, as much trouble as it caused to admit it, that was true.
"You…you want to…" Oh come on woman, stop hesitating. "You're interested in me." Elisif asked. "As in, se—romantically."
Dulurza gulped, and nodded. "Aye. I…I'm in love with you."
Oh, Nine Divines—
YES! SHE SAID THE—
ENOUGH!
"For how long?" Elisif checked.
"It hit me in the clearing, when I realised I couldn't kill you." Dulurza said, looking away with a wince. "But, being honest with myself, it probably started a lot earlier."
"Right." Elisif took a second to think back through their previous interactions. "…How in the name of Talos did I not realise this sooner?"
"Aye, I thought I was being fairly obvious." Dulurza coughed.
"Okay but—" Elisif scrunched her nose up. "Wow. That actually makes a lot of things make sense, thinking about it."
"Including the kiss, you mean?"
"Yes including the—" Elisif sighed. "Dulurza. You do realise how completely impossible this would be, don't you?"
"Why?" Dulurza growled, looking annoyed.
"Why?" Elisif couldn't tell if she was joking or not. "Dulurza, you're my thane, and you're a woman, and you're an Orc. Any one of those things would make this the biggest scandal of the year!"
Dulurza's face fell, and Elisif immediately felt terrible.
"That's not me thinking that, that's—Damnit, this is hard." She grimaced. "I am the Jarl of Solitude, Dulurza, and I'm going to be the High Queen of Skyrim soon. After that happens, I will have to get married."
"Why." Dulurza asked, flatly.
"Because it's really useful!" Elisif exclaimed. "When I was married to Torryg, it secured him the support of Solitude in the moot to become High King. A marriage binds two families together, it buys me the support of a group that might otherwise oppose my rule. It's a chip I only get to cash in once, barring another tragedy, and it can massively benefit my people, if I marry the right noble."
"And what do you want?" Dulurza, as always, got right to the point.
"That doesn't matter—"
"But it's what I asked."
Elisif bit her lip. "I…I want to try kissing you again."
YES! GO GIRL! Potema shrieked.
Elisif turned quickly to meet Dulurza's eyes. "Now that doesn't mph—"
She was cut off by her thane's lips on hers.
It wasn't the same experience as the previous had been (an experience that was still vivid in her mind, despite her attempts to quash it). This kiss was nowhere near as desperate. It was slow, and gentle, and warm.
At some point, Elisif found that she had shifted across the bed so she was pressed up against Dulurza, almost straddling her, head angled up so as to get a better angle on the taller woman. Even so, it didn't feel close enough. It was like her body had suddenly remembered 'Oh, right, physical contact is nice' after a ten month abstinence, and very much wanted more of it.
After some time (she had no idea how long), Elisif pulled away slightly to breathe, eyelids fluttering open.
She looked up at Dulurza. Dulurza, who had turned against Mor Khazgur for her. Dulurza, who had worked ceaselessly to help her against Potema. Dulurza, who made her feel safe.
Dulurza, who had promised to never leave her.
"Oh." Elisif whispered. "I'm in love with you too."
Dulurza's eyes widened, and Elisif moved away, putting her head in her hands. "Oh, no, why did I do this. This is—" she glanced back, "Stop smirking! This is bad!"
"Not for me." Dulurza replied, grinning like winter festival had come early.
"I know that, but —" Elisif sighed. She found she wasn't nearly as mad at herself as she wanted to be. Part of her was jumping for joy, another part was sitting in her head smugly wondering why this had even taken so long. Maybe that part was Potema.
Seriously. I could have written four story arcs in the time it took you to stop pining for each other.
Okay, it was definitely Potema. Still…
"We would have to keep it secret." Elisif warned. "Properly secret, and pray to the Divines that none of the Meteuse siblings want to blackmail us because I'll bet they'll realise after one look."
"They're good people." Dulurza replied. "I'm more worried about the Thalmor bitch, but she shouldn't have any reason to check."
"Until she insensitively asks me about my love life and I have to maintain a straight face…" Elisif rolled her tongue around her teeth. "You need to understand. This is a problem."
"We can keep it secret if we—"
"Beyond that!" Elisif tried to figure out a way to phrase what was going through her head. "Dulurza, will you be able to love me while I bear another man's children?"
That, at least, managed to put a damper on the Orc's mood. Dulurza looked down at her hands for a few seconds, thinking. Then looked up, and countered:
"Will you be able to bear another man's children while loving me?"
Elisif's mouth clicked shut, and she found she couldn't answer.
You ever write damn near three hundred thousand words before realising that you've been misspelling 'Thongvor' as 'Throngvor' the entire time? And I don't even have most of it on one document so I can't quickly replace all of them to reupload. Welp. Time to do what I did with 'Shikamaru': Ignore the problem completely.
Hi everyone! Meesa back! Coming in early to bag that summer market. Not that I have any idea what the logistics of fanfiction uploading are. (Seriously, I don't even know what time of day is best to catch the most peoples' attention. I assume some time the americans are awake, but its hard to tell. When do you guys go scrolling for new fics?)
Starting off spicy with L'laarzen's past finally coming to light and Dulurza finally coming fully clean with Elisif. To a roaring (if worrisome) success. You go girl! Now I get to try and write compelling romantic relationship for another character pair, when I was struggling enough with the first one...
Anyway, I'm gonna have a lot of fun with this act. Chapters every Saturday. Like, Comment, Subscribe, Retweet, and stay tuned.
Next Time: Someone debates a god, someone has a bad idea, and someone punts a spider.