The Main Quest
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"FEIM."
Just about every single student in the hall went 'Ooh' as Archmage Alexander Meteuse turned intangible in front of them.
His use of the Thu'um had been outed quite spectacularly when fighting the Brotherhood on College grounds. So, hey, may as well make a lecture out of it.
"Now as I'm sure you'll notice, the rest of you simply saying this word forcefully will not cause you to go all blue." Xander spoke, casually walking through stone pillars as he did so. "It's not like the motions to a spell as wizards are used to learning them. Dovahzuul is a language of feeling, of meaning. These Words are their concepts, and wielding the power within a Word requires a level of understanding such that the Word and the concept become indistinguishable. It's difficult. Extroadinarily so. But…" He returned to his normal form. "It is possible."
A hand went up in the audience.
"Onmund, yes?"
"But the way you learned it, anyone could?"
"Well…" Xander grimaced. "My way of learning it involved falling out of a tower. Please, please, I am begging you, do not throw yourself off high objects to try and understand concepts better. No students have died under my care yet and I intend to keep it that way for as long as I can."
There was scattered laughter, and he clarified, "Yes, Onmund. While I imagine the key to understanding will be different from person to person, that is true of learning anything. Unless there truly is a restriction on Mer using it (and I have my doubts) any of you could pick up on the Thu'um just the same."
"Yes, but." Brelyna spoke before raising her hand. He raised an eyebrow at her, and she continued. "Archmage. You're you."
That also got some laughs, and Xander rolled his eyes. "Idolisation will get none of you anywhere. I promise, I'm no more special than—"
"Archmage!" Mirabelle Ervine called, opening the door to the hall. "The Dragonborn is here, he wants to see you!"
Xander's jaw clacked shut, as some students gasped, and others laughed at the comic drop.
"Yes, yes, hilarious." He said, trying to regain control. "Ms Ervine, thank you very much, I'm coming. Looks like you lot get out ten minutes early, good for you. Use that time to—Oi, not yet—Use that time to get started on your essay, I want you to pick one of the words I listed today and get me at least a foot of parchment on what it means to you. Feel free to wax as lyrical as your heart desires, and if anyone starts breathing fire, tell me. Now you can go. Oh, and friendly reminder, that offer of monetary compensation to donate your blood is still up! I need it for research purposes, go see Colette if you're interested!"
It had been two weeks since Emperor Titus Mede II had died. Xander had spent the majority of those two weeks trying to bring some semblance of order to his life. Step one had been going back to Winterhold and letting everyone know he wasn't dead (he had gone into the sewers to chase some assassins and then vanished for over two days). Next had been trying to lay the groundwork for the remnants of the Dark Brotherhood to be accepted into society again. That would be tricky, considering he had very publicly got into a mortal battle with all three of them. But with Me'Daro (the one who had tipped Korir off in the first place) helping, he was partway through a plan to make it all look like one big misunderstanding. It would be hard, but mostly people were just happy that nobody was going to try and assassinate anyone else in the hold.
The rest of the time had largely been taken up by, well. Trying to put back together the fragile remnants of his psyche after undergoing the most stressful forty-eight hours in his life, and yes, he really meant that.
"They like you." Mirabelle said as they walked, bringing him out of his reverie.
"Hm?" He prompted.
"The students." She clarified, with a smile. "It might be something about your age, but none of us have ever gotten through to them quite like you do."
"Ehe." Xander chuckled, scratching the back of his neck. "Well, that's just acting skills. None of them know me, I'm just putting on a performance. I'm sure you could learn it, and besides, you're not that much older than me."
"Thirty." She emphasised, giving him a look.
Half your age plus seven, that makes…wait, I turned twenty two! I'm in the—STOP IT. Don't be weird.
"Well, like I said, a performance." He clarified. "I'm much more worried about what the people who actually have to put up with me think. Like you. Do you like me?"
"Xander!" She rebuked, as they stepped out into the courtyard.
"What, it's a serious question!"
Mirabelle chuckled, the cold making her cheeks go red. "Yes, Xander. I do."
"And lo, my insecurities are satiated." Boom. Look at me, befriending my work colleagues.
He turned forwards, and—
Oh. Damn.
The Dragonborn was…scarier, than the last time Xander had seen him.
The man's hair was longer and wilder, his eyes more intense. He looked…taller? Xander wasn't sure if it was just his imagination or if the demigod had actually gained six inches and a few kilos of muscle.
"DB!" Xander greeted, with a smile. "Pleasure to see you again!"
"Why do you call me that?" The man responded, in his usual gruff monotone.
"Because your title is too long and you've still not given me your name." Xander reasoned, gesturing to a nearby bench. "Come on, sit down. Want tea? Ale, mead, wine?"
"I'm fine."
"Suit yourself." Xander flicked a finger. The magic fountain near to the seats turned red, and started radiating heat. He swept some snow off the bench and sat down, the Dragonborn mimicking him on the other side. "Mirabelle, want to join us?" He asked.
"I think I'll leave this to you." She shook her head, smiling. "Good luck, Xander."
Aww. "Thank you!" He turned back to the Dragonborn, clapped his hands. "So. It's been a few weeks. How many dragons have you killed?"
"Twenty-something." The Dragonborn replied, flatly.
Xander tried not to choke. "You—You've lost count?"
DB shrugged. "It's basically all I do."
"Are you…okay?"
"Every day I lose sight of who I was before Alduin attacked Helgen."
"Right…" Xander made a face, then composed himself. "So. The first time we met, you were searching for an ancient word wall, and then the second time you came here you were looking for an Elder Scroll. I assume this isn't a casual check-in either?"
"No." The Dragonborn leaned forwards. "I need a new sword."
Xander blinked. "Really?"
"I lost Dragonbane." DB huffed, looking almost embarrassed. "You know how to replicate the enchantment. I have a few backups that might be appropriate as a base."
"Oh. Sure, I can absolutely do that." Xander said, with some relief. "That it?"
"No. I also need you to bring an end to Skyrim's civil war."
"…"
"So, let me get this straight." Xander said, after almost half an hour.
"You found an actual Elder Scroll, took it to the summit of the Throat of the World, and read it successfully without going blind, going insane, or dying."
"Yes." The Dragonborn said, reaching behind himself. "I can show you the scroll, if you—"
"No thank you!" Xander said, leaning backwards. "Um. You then peered back in time, learned a miracle Shout that actually literally tears Dragons from the sky—"
"I was surprised too."
"—And then used it to fight and defeat the World Eater, Alduin."
The Dragonborn nodded. "But he didn't die, because he's actually in Sovngarde."
"Sovngarde, the warrior-heaven of the Nords."
"Aye."
"And in order to get to him, you need to trap a Dragon and force it to reveal to you the way Alduin gets to and from literally heaven. And the only place you can do that is Dragonsreach…"
"But Balgruuf won't let me do it unless I can promise him he'll be safe while dedicating all his men to the job." The Dragonborn finished, visibly annoyed.
"And to do that, you need to…stop the Skyrim civil war…" Xander let out something between a chuckle and a squeak. "Um. Okay. I am a little curious why you haven't chosen the obvious solution…"
"Picking a side and helping them win?" The Dragonborn offered. When Xander nodded, he shrugged. "Bad idea. I could go to either Solitude or Windhelm, kill everyone in power and capture their leader, yes. But it would still take weeks or months to wrap the fighting up. And I can't give Alduin that much food."
"Food?" Xander asked.
"He consumes the souls of those who go to Sovngarde." The Dragonborn told Xander, sounding disturbed by the thought. "The souls of those who die in battle."
"So every time a Man dies in the war, Alduin gets more powerful." Xander's eyes widened. "Oh, Akatosh's left testicle. He picked the right time to escape the time wound, huh?"
"It almost killed me to defeat him here." DB continued, expression downcast. "He implied he was stronger in Sovngarde. I need to minimise how much power he gains or I might lose."
"Not to mention he's sending souls to Sithis in the thousands." Oh, good. I can't walk five feet in this county without stumbling across another crime against humanity. "You're right, we need to stop the war. But, why did you come to me? You're the Dragonborn."
"I'm bad at people." DB retorted, bluntly. "I was bad at people before my brain started getting flooded with Dragon souls, and now its worse. I've had to focus this entire conversation just to avoid breaking into Dovahzuul."
"Oh, well, don't trouble yourself." Xander replied, switching to the Dragon language immediately and taking some pride in the Dragonborn's surprised look. "But, still, me?"
"You're good at people." DB said, this time also in Dovahzuul, and sounding a lot more comfortable because of it. "Everyone likes you."
"Well, not everyone—"
"I don't know anyone else. Tell me someone better, and I'll go to them."
Xander closed his mouth, and thought. It was…an absurd task. His immediate first thought was to foist it off onto one of his older siblings. But Julius was probably in Summerset, and Octavia…he doubted Octavia wanted to help him right now.
Not to mention she sent a letter saying she'd end the war when it started. Said a particularly callous part of his brain. And she failed.
He ignored it.
"I…I'll help." He promised. "But I don't even know where to start. I have an in with Elisif, something resembling a rapport with Tullius, but I've never even seen Ulfric."
"The Greybeards have agreed to host a peace council." The Dragonborn said. "In High Hrothgar."
"They have? Okay, that's good, I can use that." Xander brought his hands to his temples. "This is…ridiculous. But I'll try my best." He looked up at the Dragonborn, and narrowed his eyes. "No. I'll get it done. Because if I don't the world ends, right?"
"Basically."
"Alright then." Xander stood up from the bench. "Get back to High Hrothgar. Is there any date they'd rather do this?"
"They're monks."
"Right. Get together anyone and anything you think my help. Give me a week, I'll have your sword and I'll have an update."
He held out a hand. The Dragonborn inspected it strangely for a second, before seeming to realise what he was meant to do and shaking it.
"You have four days." He stated, also standing.
"Alright. But if I'm going to do this…I'm gonna need help."
Archmage Meteuse pushed open the doors to the Arcaneum, striding in with his cloak billowing around him.
"Urag!" He shouted. "I require some books!"
"Well, yes. This is a library."
"Oh."
"And keep your voice down."
"Sorry."
8˂
"…Then you had best be fast! L'laarzen will not have blood on her streets!" L'laarzen called after a retreating Sapphire, who flipped a rude gesture at her but nonetheless sped up to a jog. L'laarzen giggled, before turning to point at another thief in the Cistern. "And Rune, Khajiit needs you to visit Maven later today, tell her to keep her goons away from the Pawned Prawn. The Honey-Hands pay the protection racket, that means they get protected."
"You want me to make demands of Maven Black-Briar?" Rune asked, face aghast.
"Only a polite suggestion." L'laarzen replied, smiling. "And if she is disinclined, politely remind her that she has a haircut booked with L'laarzen in two days. She won't risk this one's ire until that's over."
"Hail, L'laarzen!"
She turned, and smiled at Karliah. "Hail, friend! Need something?"
"Just thought I'd give you a heads-up. A friend of yours has been spotted coming into the city. The one from Azura's shrine." Karliah moved to her side, patting her on the shoulder, and whispering "I think he's heading towards the graveyard?"
"Khajiit would expect so, she told him about the secret entrance." L'laarzen admitted. "She will greet him. Try not to let things fall apart while Khajiit is occupied, yes?"
"We did manage this guild before you arrived, you know." Karliah chuckled.
"Yes, and look what happened to it. Ah, Alexander! So good to see you!"
8˂̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶̶ ̶{o
L'laarzen placed two teacups on the table and sat down, Xander pulling a seat up across from her.
"Bigger room than last time." He noted, after picking up his cup.
"Indeed. It used to belong to Mercer Frey." L'laarzen looked around. "Running the place does have its benefits."
"You took over the Guild?" Xander asked, eyebrows raising.
"Khajiit couldn't let you show her up, could she?" L'laarzen responded, taking a sip.
"Yes, but…I thought you didn't want to." Xander pointed out, with a frown. "I gave you eight thousand septims of the reward to buy that one house. You were going to be a hairdresser, is that not still the plan?"
L'laarzen set her cup down, pondering. "Khajiit has had a lot to think about. It would be a delight to simply own her hair parlour and become a respected member of the community, occasionally receive some celebrity guests, but…that would mean leaving the city's criminal underground alone. Do I leave it to Brynjolf? Destroy it? There will always be crime, and organised is usually safer than the alternative. Khajiit thinks that, amusingly, she can do the most good from here." She gave a sad smile. "And besides. It does not feel right to buy a house with that money."
"Are…you okay?" Xander asked, carefully.
"Better now than she was two weeks ago." L'laarzen replied, honestly. "Thank you for letting this one stay in your college while she was recovering."
"Any time." Xander answered. "It was a lot to go through. I mean, I just scrapped with my sister, but you…I understand needing time to grieve. Sometimes you just need to sit and enjoy the snowstorm, right?"
"But all storms pass eventually." L'laarzen finished. "Speaking of which, what brings you here? I can only assume it is trouble."
"Ha, ha. Uh, yes." Xander coughed into his fist. "I need your help. And I'm aware what happened last time I said that, but this time I don't need you to help me kill anyone. Quite the opposite, in fact. And I'm actually going to explain it all beforehand, but…it's a lot."
"At least you have learned." L'laarzen chuckled. "Very well. Explain."
And so, he explained.
Once he was done explaining, L'laarzen's tea had gone cold, and her mind was whirring.
"That is…quite a task." She oversimplified.
"Yup." He agreed.
"And you want my help? L'laarzen is not a politician."
"No, but I value your advice and you're on a short list of people I trust." Xander replied. "I'm going to gather a few others before I even try talking to Ulfric or Tullius."
"The Dragonslayers?" L'laarzen guessed.
"That is far too cool a name for us." Xander snorted. "But yes. And also, I need to make use of your friends. The Thieves Guild sells information, right?"
"When we can." L'laarzen nodded. "What do you need?"
Xander took a deep breath. "It is time for me to do something very important. I have avoided doing it for a long time now, both because it's a very big commitment and to save my own psyche from the inevitable side effects. But I can't in good conscience put it off any longer."
L'laarzen tilted her head at him.
He sighed. "I need to start giving a damn about politics."
"…Oh." L'laarzen replied. "Why would that mean—"
"I require records on the history of Tamriel and more specific ones on Skyrim and Cyrodiil going back at least to the Oblivion crisis." He said, reaching into his bag. "From at least three different conflicting sources to account for bias. I need to know numbers; the size of the Imperial and Stormcloak armies, the GDP of relevant countries, their exports, their land size, their access to mages. I need to know what happened with Torryg and Ulfric to start this whole thing. I need to know the names of the most important players on each side, their personalities, their end-goals, I need to know what the Stormcloaks plan to do if they win, I need to know what each side classes as a victory, I need to know what stake Elenwen and the Thalmor have in the war, I need to know what the common citizens think of the war, accounts from multiple holds, specifically Whiterun, Solitude, and Windhelm, I need to know what in Oblivion's going on in Markarth but I'm checking with Hjar for that, I got some information from Winterhold but its very one-sided and very limited, I need—"
"Alexander." L'laarzen interrupted him. She reached out and took one of his hands. "Would you like to write Khajiit a list?"
"Yes. That could be helpful."
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"Halt! You should not be here; the Jarl is not receiving visitors!"
"Oh, I think he'll receive me. Jarl Balgruuf! My name is Alexander Meteuse, Archmage of the College of Winterhold. I apologise for my abruptness, but I must speak with you."
Balgruuf the Greater looked up from his conversation with Proventus, frowning at the Man who brushed past his housecarl.
There were some things that Balgruuf did not budge on, and one of those was the hours he was available for audience. He could count the number of people allowed to barge in on him outside those hours on two hands (and the number of people who could bother him in his private quarters on one). That said…
"I know of you. You sent a letter some weeks ago." Balgruuf stood, using the slight height boost of his throne's dais to loom over the newcomer. "That was regards to the…what word did you use, 'apocalypse'? That you claim to have stopped. I hope this intrusion is of similar importance, or you might find yourself spending a night in Dragonsreach."
More curt a greeting than he would usually give, but these were stressful times.
Meteuse smiled and inclined his head. "Oh, it is. I'm here on behalf of the Dragonborn. I believe he's your Thane? Great job on that, by the way; snapping up the demigod's allegiance with a fancy title before anyone else could."
That stopped Balgruuf in his tracks. What the…hold on. This could be some fool's idea of a joke.
"Is that so?" He crossed his arms. "And what does my Thane need of me?"
The mage glanced from side to side, raised an eyebrow. "Well as I understand it, he wants to trap a Dragon in your palace."
And there went the chances of this being a prank. Since the Dragonborn had delivered the request directly and personally to Balgruuf (at three in the morning, in his own bedroom, while he was in bed asleep).
Irileth and Proventus (having yet to hear of the request) both gasped, and Balgruuf walked closer, coming down to the mage's level. "And in that case, why does he need you?"
"I'm here help facilitate the peace required." Meteuse smiled a worrying smile. "But first, I need you to tell me exactly what you need."
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"Nnnngh." Hjar stretched as she walked into the main office of Understone keep (office perhaps not the most appropriate room, but it had a map and it was where they did all their paperwork). "Morning."
"Morning." Said Thongvor, already there. "Good news or bad news?"
"Eh, good news first, at least while I wake up."
"It's almost midday."
"Hey, I woke up early-ish with Margret. Only then we did...stuff...and I got tired again so we had a sort of mid-morning nap."
"I really didn't need to hear that…"
"Hey, I took over the country, I'm entitled to lazy mornings." She sat down next to him, snatched a loaf of bread from the basket on the table and tore off a chunk with her teeth. "'O on. 'ood mews."
"And the Reachmen follow you…" Thongvor sighed. "Well, the majority of the damage to the city is now repaired. The first trade caravan went out last night, so if we're lucky we should be able to cut rationing by the end of the week."
"Mmph." Hjar swallowed. "That is good news. The mine?"
"Open. Progress is being made. Thonar's ledgers are like minefields, but I've got some talented people helping to get things up and running. Not to be that prick, but profits will be a lot lower with all those safety measures you insisted on…"
"And higher because the workers aren't half-starved anarchists." Hjar countered.
"And lower again because we have to pay them." Thongvor counter-countered. "I still don't see why we can't just put the Thalmor prisoners to work—"
"Because we're not slavers." Hjar whacked his shoulder with the loaf. "Bad Thongvor."
"It's a waste! We have to feed them and keep them here, and they're not doing anything else."
"Sometimes you have to lose money to be a good person. It's fine." Hjar stretched again and groaned. "Alright. Gimme the bad news."
Thongvor shrugged, and dutifully replied "We're broke."
"I already knew that."
"Yes but now we have the numbers to prove it. Surprise: a city can't just collapse and do nothing for weeks on end with no consequences." Thongvor gestured at a swathe of parchment. "Most of the Silver-Blood reserves are spent. A lot was just destroyed, anything we could reasonably try and claim has been looted. Amusingly, we're not in debt, because there was nobody we could really borrow from. But we may soon be from all the expenses we'll have to pay this month and the next."
"Our population has basically just doubled." Hjar pointed out. "I mean, we can make the Forsworn (sorry, ex-Forsworn) pay taxes now, can't we?"
"Yes, but they lived in tribes." Thongvor pointed out. "We can't tax them if they don't have money, and they can't just go to the job fairy and get jobs. They need to train, and the city needs to expand, and that will cost even more money. Calcelmo's writing up plans to expand deeper into Nzchuand-Zel just to house the people moving to the city."
He sighed. "This will be good for the Reach's prosperity in the long term, yes. But in the short term, we're in trouble. I'm not that worried about taking out a loan under these conditions, if not for…the other thing."
"Oh, joy." Hjar rolled her eyes. "Before we move from the riveting topic of economics to the equally riveting topic of politics, real quick: How many fights yesterday?"
"Three." Thongvor answered. "Fifteen people total."
"Hm. That's the best all week, isn't it?"
"Yes, but two died in the last one."
"Ugh…" Hjar buried her head in her hands. They'd known this would happen. They'd prepared for this to happen. But part of her had hoped that maybe, after everything she'd done, she might have overestimated the civil unrest.
Turned out she'd still managed to under-estimate it. "How many Gods-damned times? The usual?"
"The usual. 'You killed my parents, that was my dinner plate, he looked at me funny'." Thongvor sounded just as done with the events as she was. "Your turn to discipline them."
"Ugh, it is, isn't it. Alright, moving on. Politics. Yay." Hjar waved her hands in the air like she just didn't care. "What are the reds and blues saying?"
"The Empire's letter sounds like a disappointed, long-suffering parent who's child is confessing to bricking a window." Thongvor told her, handing her one particular piece of paper. "They're going 'oh, no, come on, please tell me you're kidding I didn't expect this from you' but they've already got their belt in their hands."
"Expressive."
"Entitled bastards." Thongvor grumbled, fishing out another letter. "Ulfric just…sounds confused. The Imperials losing Markarth is a win for him, but he doesn't get why we're not just joining up with him. The whole notion of an independent Reach is alien to them all, and with good reason; we've been a part of Skyrim for Eras."
"It's not even about political independence." Hjar growled. "It's about the fact that we need a uniting sense of national identity to stop our people tearing each other apart again. A lot of them still see themselves as Skyrim-folk, and that's fine. So long as they see themselves as Reach-folk within that."
"Also, if we go back on promises like freedom of worship, they'll kill us." Thongvor added.
"And given how bleak our finances are, I take it we can't really afford to go to war with anyone?" Hjar asked.
"No. But going to war unprepared, or with two nations at once, would be even worse." Thongvor leaned back from the table. "There's no way this is resolved through letters. We'll have to meet with them. Ideally, both at the same time."
"Sure." Hjar snorted. "Tullius and Ulfric sat down at the negotiating together with each other? We'd need a miracle."
At that moment, the door was thrown open. They both looked up to see Kaie walking in, a confused look on her face.
"Okay so not to worry anyone," She said, "but, Hjar? There's a horse stood on the balcony upstairs, I have no idea how it got there, and it has a weirdo on it who's asking for you."
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"So…" Hjar began, walking beside Alexander along one of Markarth's upper balconies. "It's been a while."
"Yeah, it has." He nodded. "You been up to anything interesting?"
"Not much." Hjar shrugged. "Just got engaged, destroyed a cult of cannibals, took over the Forsworn, united the Breton and Nords, annexed the ruling cabal of Markarth, and established an independent nation in the Reach which I now co-rule."
"Oh, cool."
"You?"
"I helped assassinate the Emperor."
Hjar stopped walking. There was a long silence.
"…So, I probably shouldn't have admitted that." Xander said.
"No probably not." Hjar agreed.
"I just…we were doing the 'pretend to be unimpressive' game, and I really wanted to one-up you."
"Yeah."
"Only this bodes poorly for me keeping this a secret for, you know. My entire life."
"Mm."
He glanced at her. "Am I in trouble?"
"I mean…" She glanced back. "Not my emperor."
"Got it. He was asking for it, by the way."
"I'm sure he was."
"No, I mean literally, he—"
"Xander? New topic." She prompted. "Why are you here?"
"Got it, right." He shook himself, and smiled. "So, new independent nation, huh?"
"Yes..?" She confirmed, tilting her head.
"Want a chance to either have that legally accepted, and/or give it up for the fate of the world?"
Hjar stared at him. Turned, and rested her head on the cliffside. "I should have stayed in bed with my girlfriend…"
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Elisif paused for breath, hair hanging in a total mess around her face.
"This is…bad. Isn't it?" She asked.
"Probably." Dulurza agreed, underneath her.
"Hm. Thought so."
They went back to kissing each other.
The question of 'what would happen if her infatuation with her Thane came crashing down around her ears' was a very real one, and it did on occasion cause Elisif to start panicking. However, there were a lot of other questions that were just as (if not more) important, like 'what's going to happen to my country' and 'would Torryg approve of what I've done' and 'what does it mean that the Dragons of yore have returned to attack people'. She was responding to all those problems in about the same way:
Putting them off until she actually knew what to do about them.
There was a knock at the door to her room. "Jarl Elisif?" Cassia's voice called.
"Mm —What—Mph, Dulurza, pause—What is it?" Elisif replied, sitting up and blinking.
"Are you alright in there?" Came the hesitant reply.
"I'm fine. What?"
"My brother's here to see you. Says it's really important!"
Elisif frowned, as Dulurza sat up next to her. "Dragon brother or Thalmor brother?"
"Dragon one! What do I tell him? He's parked his horse in front of the Blue Palace and isn't leaving. Which is awkward, because you're meant to be holding court in…ten minutes."
Ten min—We've been here an hour? Elisif flushed, and whispered "This is your fault!" at Dulurza.
The Orc just grinned in an annoyingly self-satisfied way, wiping her lips and standing.
Elisif sighed, raising her voice again. "And when he says important, how important does that mean?"
"Well he—" Cassia's huff was audible through the wood. "Can I come in? This is really awkward."
It was. Elisif stood, glanced at herself in the mirror, and—
Uh oh. I look like a mess.
Gimme. Potema prompted, her voice appearing in the back of Elisif's mind.
She allowed it, and briefly felt her body become not her own. Potema flicked her hands and ran them through her hair, and Elisif felt a quick jolt of magic pass through her body.
When the control relented a few seconds later, Elisif's hair, clothing and makeup were all perfect.
You need to teach me how to do that. She thought.
And you need to let me watch you kissing next time. Potema retorted. You can't keep having all this fun and force me to sit in the back of your head imagining it.
Don't be weird.
It's not weird, I'm in your brain! We need to sort this out, because you won't even let me use your body to have se—
Elsif tuned her out, pulling the door open to see Cassia.
"Well?" She asked. "How important?"
Cassia looked at her. Then peered in through the doorway to see Dulurza still hastily reattaching her greaves.
She snorted. "You know, Octavia can do the 'suddenly ready' spell too, y'all ain't slick—"
"Cassia." Elisif snapped, trying to keep her frustration under control.
"Xander's got his serious face on, ma'am." Cassia replied, shrugging. "I think it's very important."
"Then I suppose we hear him out." Elisif decided, walking out. "He has ten minutes to make his piece. I'll decide if it's important enough to delay court for."
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It was important enough to delay court for.
Dulurza looked between the faces of Elisif and Xander. The former looked like she could hardly believe what she was hearing, the latter looked like he fully understood her reaction.
"Peace?" Elisif reiterated, leaning forwards in her throne. "You want me to come to peace with Ulfric Stormcloak?"
"Only a temporary ceasefire." Xander reassured. "Balgruuf just needs to be certain that Whiterun will be safe for the duration. You can go back to slaughtering each other pointlessly once Alduin is dead."
"And why doesn't the Dragonborn just destroy the rebels rather than go through all this rigamarole?" Elisif demanded.
"It wasn't the Stormcloaks that tried to behead him at Helgen." Xander replied, picking something out of his teeth. "But honestly, I don't think he cares about the war either way. He just needs warriors to stop dying so the World Eater stops getting stronger."
"But this is ridiculous." Elisif waved an arm dismissively, leaning back. "How can he even be certain? Alduin is a fairy tale."
Dulurza frowned, butting in with "Was it a fairy tale that attacked Solitude?"
Elisif shot her a look, but she weathered it without flinching. She's not been this contentious since Potema was trying to take over.
The Jarl looked away before her Thane, turning to Xander with "Even so. The Dragonborn comes up with this ridiculous plan, and he expects some of the greatest leaders in Skyrim to follow along with it? He wants me to sit at a table and negotiate with the man that killed my husband?"
Ah. There was the problem, and Dulurza felt stupid for not seeing it immediately.
"Ulfric wouldn't be able to do anything to you." Xander reassured her, raising his arms placatingly. "It would be under parley, obviously, and there'll be too many people, plenty of whom could—"
"I'd stop him." Dulurza followed the mage's rapid-fire excuses with a much more tangible one, moving closer and laying a hand on Elisif's shoulder.
Elisif looked up at her, and sighed. "I know you would. But I'm not worried about him, I'm worried about me. I'm not sure I could bear to sit in the same room as him for hours on end. And Potema offering to curse him for me isn't helping."
"Don't, do that, I'd catch and stop you." Xander coughed. "Look, Jarl Elisif. I understand that this is a difficult thing to ask of you. But this could save countless people's lives, your people's lives."
She glared at him. "Really. You're going to pull out the 'your people's lives' line?"
"If it works." Xander replied, face blank.
Elisif stared at him. "Tell me this is the only way."
"Considering how long I've had, all the options on the table, it's better than—"
"I don't need it to be the truth, Meteuse."
"It's the only way, my Jarl." Xander replied, dutifully.
"Don't you call her that, it's weird." Dulurza muttered.
"Fine." Elisif allowed, with a groan. "What do I need to do and when?"
Xander smiled, nervously. "Well, first of all, you could pretend you're not so reluctant and help me convince Tullius?"
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"The Greybeards?" Tullius repeated, sceptically. He looked across to Rikke and asked "They're important, right?"
"Very important, sir." Rikke answered, only looking mildly exasperated. "Every Nord in Skyrim respects the Greybeards, High Hrothgar, the Throat of the World. They're central to our entire culture."
"Even to Ulfric? Didn't he abandon them?"
"Only because he felt he had to join the Great War. He always said he had the greatest respect for his mentors and their teachings, even if he disagreed with their remaining impartial."
"Then at least we wouldn't have to worry about a Stormcloak ambush on the way up the steps…" Tullius looked over the table at Xander. "But just because it's possible doesn't mean it's a good idea."
Xander tried not to clench his teeth. He'd thought that the Imperial general would be the easier one to convince, but if so he was starting to feel extremely worried about Ulfric. "Well, given recent events, I'd think the Imperial military could use a quick break."
Tullius' eyes narrowed. "I assure you, the loss of our Emperor has done nothing to diminish our men's resolve or—"
"Oh, spare me the rhetoric." Xander rolled his eyes. "You have no commander-in-chief. The only reason your army's still functioning in spite of the bureaucratic mess going on above you is the level of independence you were granted for this campaign. You'll certainly not be receiving any reinforcements until the next emperor is elected, and that will take months."
Rikke's wince implied he'd hit the nail on the head.
"Yet while we are licking our wounds, so will the enemy." Tullius pointed out. "Every day, more men rally to the traitor's cause. If we do not continue to impede him, his forces will only grow."
"Then perhaps this is your opportunity to rally those men away from him." Xander tried. "I've been in the eastern holds, Ulfric's hold on the populace isn't as strong as you might think. And, most importantly, you can't fight a war if your soldiers are all eaten by dragons."
Tullius scowled, looking back down at his bloody map.
"Sir." Rikke prompted. Interestingly, she seemed to be on the 'make peace' side of the debate.
"Hm. Well, perhaps." Tullius looked back up. "If Ulfric agrees to attend, I will."
"Or you could agree to go anyway." Xander pointed out, heading off that unproductive attitude as soon as he could. "If he agrees, good, and if he doesn't, you look reasonable and mature while he looks like a warmongering child."
"Hm." He hummed again. "Very well. But I can't promise anything will come of dealing with that maniac."
Yes, yes, posturing, blah blah. "I wouldn't ask it. Thank you for your intelligence."
"Alright, none of that. When do you want this to take place? What are the details?"
"The talks will commence at High Hrothgar in five days." Xander answered, as definitively as he could. "There will be parties from Solitude, Whiterun, Windhelm, Markarth, and the Thalmor embassy."
"You're inviting Markarth?" Tullius frowned. "Are you aware of what's going on down there?"
"Unless you'd rather I not invite one of the richest holds in Skyrim, who are in open rebellion and as such a direct threat to Whiterun. They, at least, have already agreed to attend." Xander left that hanging, and when Tullius didn't have any objections, continued. "Each party will consist of three people maximum, yourself included. You can take a larger retinue on the way there, but they can't climb the mountain. I would advise bringing Jarl Elisif. And don't worry, Dulurza will be coming with me."
Tullius listened, nodded, and then waved his hand dismissively. "Too few, too soon. I'll need weeks to make preparations, communicate with my higher-ups and fellow generals. And I can't make this decision without the input of my advisors and commanders; twelve should be sufficient."
"No." Xander replied, flatly. "It's in five days, and you'll have three."
The number and date were entirely arbitrary, he'd picked them himself on the way here. But someone had to choose them, and they didn't have time for Tullius and Ulfric to go back and forth on that kind of minutia.
Tullius gave him a flabbergasted look, as though he'd never been rejected like that in his life. "Then we're not going." He said, almost laughing.
"Then you and everyone you love are dead." Xander told him, as calmly as he could, even as his blood started to run hotter. "As are all your superiors, all the men under your command, Legate Rikke here, and everyone you claim to protect. And your kids die too."
Tullius glared. "Is that a threat?" He said, icily.
"Not from me." Xander replied. "If Whiterun's safety is not assured, the Dragonborn can't complete his mission, and Alduin either rules or destroys the world, depending on his mood. It's that simple."
"Nothing's ever that simple." Tullius retorted. "We can fight the Dragons."
"But you can't kill them." Xander pointed out. "Tell me, how many registered Dragon attacks have occurred in Haafingar alone?"
Rikke answered that, with "Five."
"And how many were stopped by the Dragonborn, or me and my allies?"
"Three."
"The others?"
Rikke looked away. "One of the Dragons was slain, after causing massive damage to a village. The other just did a flyover Dragon's Bridge. Torched twenty buildings before it got bored and flew off."
"General Tullius, the Dragonborn is the only person who can permanently kill a Dragon." Xander emphasised. "Any that he hasn't consumed the soul of, Alduin can return to life. Infinitely. I've seen it happen." He hadn't, but DB had filled him in. "Maybe, somehow, you don't believe in souls, or Sovngarde, or the threat of the World Eater. But ignoring myths, here are some facts: If the Dragonborn slips up and dies while Alduin lives, there is nothing you, nor I, nor anyone can do to stop the Dragons taking over Skyrim. Assuming, of course, that their aspirations end there. It doesn't take much for a beast of that speed to take a quick jaunt over the Jerall Mountains."
He leaned forwards, putting his hands on the map and looking Tullius dead in the eye. "All we need to do is sit still, and let the Dragonborn kill Alduin like he's supposed to. Doesn't even matter if he dies right after that. None of the other Dragons can resurrect each other, we can kill them normally and bury them again. But if you fail to show to this meeting, then maybe when the new Dragon Priests record the history of their new empire, they'll name Tullius as the man who doomed Tamriel because he couldn't get his act together fast enough."
Tullius' knuckles had whitened on the map. "I don't like your tone." He growled.
Xander remained silent, because 'I don't like your tone' was the kind of pointless blustering it was best not to respond to.
Eventually, Tullius leaned back from the table with a long breath.
"Five days, three people." He repeated.
"That's right." Xander answered.
"Hmph. I'm going to have to cancel that strategy meeting…"
Everyone's back! And they're busy.
I know this chapter was very Xander-heavy, and I'm afraid that the next one will be more of the same. Sorry, but he's kinda crucial in setting up this entire thing.
Yes, we're doing this. Season Unending. After almost sixty chapters, the Disasters are finally getting involved in the main plot. Please restrain your gasps. They can't kill Alduin, but they just might be able to facilitate the trip.
Next Time: Someone climbs a mountain, someone climbs a mountain, someone climbs a mountain, someone climbs a mountain, someone climbs a mountain, someone climbs a mountain...