DIPLOMATIC IMMUNITY
The Dragonborn
The Winking Skeever is where the contact should be, but he has not showed yet. The Night Mother growls when the foolish bard woman comes to sing at their table again. Her snowy white hair was the only distraction, and reprieve, from her incessant smiling. Cicero begins to dance in his seat with her most prideful song, "The Dragonborn Comes", as the bard intended. The Night Mother just glares.
The woman strums her lute to the soft sound of her voice, "Beware, the Dragonborn Comes…" She continues. She winks at Cicero who only clasps his hands over his heart as if she shot him with an arrow.
"Mother, what a lovely mistress bard! Shall she come to the Castle?" He whispers so the befuddled Nord doesn't hear but the Night Mother does.
She glances at Cicero. This shuts him up and stops him in his tracks before asking anything more.
The Night Mother wishes to drink from her neck. If only to keep her from tearing each throat out in the room. These insignificant people wouldn't be missed anyways if they spend their nights of the working week in a bar. The now familiar tune of the Imperial song begins when the girl slowly strolls away.
"It's you. Our mutual friend sent me." The Night Mother pulls her eyes from the bard's lovely neck and sends her bored gaze to the man before her. What she finds is a pretentious Bosmer.
"Malborn." She says as greeting. He gives her a look of hesitation. She shouldn't know his name, but she does. She smiles. "Have a seat, hopefully the bard who is off tune tonight won't make another round."
He does as directed and he won't tear his eyes away from the Night Mother. She could have come in this Inn without her cloak, let everyone see who she truly was. But tonight, she wished not to deal with the stares and pleas. At least, here she didn't.
"I hope Delphine knows what she's doing." He breathes as if he didn't mean to consciously say that.
"I hope so too." The Night Mother replies. She takes a drink from her flute of blood. Cicero made sure to bring some extra, just in case.
The man leans in conspiringly to converse, "Alright, here's the deal. I can smuggle some goods in for you. Give me what you can't live without, and I'll make sure to get it into the Embassy. The rest is up to you."
Cicero laughs hysterically. The Night Mother gives the Bosmer a withering glance. "I don't need extra cargo. Cicero will give you his blades but that is all we need."
He holds out his hands, "Fine, fine by me. Hand them over if you're ready and I'll take them over now."
Cicero keeps laughing and hands him his two prized possessions. "If you lose these, I'll find another way to gut you. AHAHA." He laughs.
The man quickly gets up and leaves. Surely not just because he was behind schedule. The Night Mother takes one last sip. "Let us go see what our friend Delphine has to offer. Maybe her plans will be more enjoyable."
The Innkeeper is standing outside the farm, leaning against one of the buildings as if waiting for her henchman to come to her. The moonlight brings out the lovely shade of her hair and is just bright enough to see the scowl on her lip. She keeps watching the farmer buy race to and back from the house to the nearby horses. Based on the rotting smell reaching their noses, he is painfully inexperienced with cleaning horse stables.
The Night Mothers stands tall as they approach and lets her cloak fall back. Delphine loses her composure, just for a second, when she sees the darker crimson on the Night Mother's lips but quickly recovers.
"Have you given Malborn the gear you want to smuggle into the embassy?" She asks in a very controlled voice.
"We don't need anything there but since you insisted on the pawn taking something in for us, I had him take Cicero's knives." Her gaze is measured.
Delphine clears her throat, "I wasn't implying anything by that, just wasn't sure what you would need."
"Of course," The Night Mother stays standing where she is, "Now what?"
The Innkeeper squirms, it is quite amusing to watch. "Your invitation to the party." She hands over a sealed note which Cicero takes. "But the only way you're going to get past the guards is if they really believe you're an invited guest." She adds.
"Certainly, and why would the Thalmor host a party in Haafingar without me?"
Delphine has nothing to say to that, as expected. "Then it seems you're dressed for the occasion. When you're ready I'll keep the rest of your gear safe until you get back. If you need to leave anything."
"We will be fine." The Night Mother is growing impatient. Too many insignificant details.
"That will do. Ready to board the carriage to the embassy?" Delphine puts her hands on her hips, still trying to show courage in her presence.
"We've been ready for hours." Is the only reply she gets. The Night Mother gets on the waiting carriage along with Cicero and only when the horse starts moving does Delphine speak again. "Good luck! Make sure you get the information and get back in one piece."
"Oh, Mother, she has no faith." Cicero giggles into her cloak.
"Then that underestimation is her own fault." She watches the Innkeeper's rapidly receding form and wonders how long they will need to keep her alive.
Straight up the steep mountain in a nearly undisclosed location sits the Thalmor embassy. An isolated area. It would be perfect as another home for the Night Mother, that way she could look down onto Solitude instead of being so far from it at the Castle. But those are worries for another time.
Thalmor wizards surround the premises. All easy to see based on their towering height, the black clothing can only conceal them so well. Cicero leaps from the carriage then helps his lady down. He gasps as she unclasps her cloak to unveil her cascading ruby red ballgown. Gold embroidery covers the corset before falling into crimson gems. Just like the ones she wears through a crown, a ring, and a necklace. All artifacts that the Brotherhood was so sweet to bring to her. It will be the perfect way to make an entrance, ensuring that no one will forget her tonight.
"Your invitation…" One of the wizards begins but trails off when she sees who is in front of her.
"If you wish." Her painted red lips curl in a smile. She hands the wizard the flimsy invitation Delphine gave her.
"Thank you, madam, go right in." The wizard glances over the Night Mother's head at her companion. She knows what they are thinking, the Night Mother wasn't supposed to be in attendance tonight, but here she is. Asinine to think that she wouldn't be since she controls the whole Hold now. Elisif's power is just an increasingly elaborate illusion.
"Welcome Night Mother." A flustered Thalmor woman greets them. She takes in the whole of the Night Mother's dress before being brave enough to meet her eyes, "I don't believe we've met. I am Elenwen, the Thalmor Ambassador to Skyrim."
"I have heard so much about you." The Night Mother smiles. This is the canned answer she will use on all the guests tonight. The truth is she knows little and cares even less about their lives and whereabouts. But if a little coercive small talk intimidates them enough into giving information, then so be it.
"Have you?" She nearly stutters, "I trust it is all good news. I have heard a fair amount about you…good information I assure you." She grins through her teeth but it's similar to the face a prey animal would express in the midst of a predator. "Please, enjoy the party." The Thalmor woman gives a low bow and allows the Night Mother and Cicero to pass into the main room.
"Mother, it's so busy." He whispers into her dress.
"Come out and play, Cicero, they won't bite you. Not with me around." She guides her Child out in front of her. Cicero is never too shy but without his weapons he surely feels exposed.
"Yes, Mother."
"What a party. I never miss one when I can help it." A washed-up noble man in the twilight of his middle-age introduces himself.
"You sound like quite the businessman." The Night Mother coos. The man is so drunk he probably couldn't tell her apart from the fair Elisif.
"Not every Nord is obsessed with strength, honor and skill at arms." He slurs, "A rare few are born with the gift for making money. My investments are my strength, and my wealth is my weapon."
Cicero breaks out into a fit of giggles. The Nord gives him an evil eye before he finishes his long-winded spiel. "As for honor, well, there are some luxuries even I can't afford."
"Mother! A horker would make more sense!" The jester mocks.
"Please excuse yourself Cicero." She shoves him over to the refreshments area. He nearly trips on the Thalmor's beautiful rug. Can't have any messes tonight.
"Forgive him, Erikur, he is a startling specimen at times." She watches his face for when he finally recognizes her. "By the gods, I knew you were around but haven't seen you at any events." Only she notices the droplets of wine that fall on the floor from his now trembling glass.
"The very little free time I have is precious to me." She assesses him before giving him a slow smile, "Keep in good spirits Erikur, I will see you around." Then she glides on to the rest of the room.
"Wait!" He calls after her, "Can we not put the grievances of the past to rest?" She doesn't answer him. She knows what he is talking about, and he is unfortunately too obtuse to be more covert. No, she would not stop her children from taking Skyrim. And no, she would not release the Hold back to Elisif, no matter what.
A servant is the next person she sees. While she sputters out some niceties the Night Mother takes a goblet of whatever drink is being served. It's far too sweet for her taste. When she grows bored of staring at the tapestries, she turns to take in the room at large. Everyone is staring at her.
She grins. She has them right where she wanted them. "Good evening, friends. Enjoy the food and drink."
She should address them all but best to have them guessing. "Ah, Maven Black-Briar." The ill-equipped woman who put Eve through so much heartache is just returning an empty goblet. "How is your evening going?" the Night Mother clenches Maven's arm to keep her from retreating.
The woman's pretentious expression changes. Her eyes go wild with fear. "The Night Mother. I don't recall seeing you before."
"I needed to make a decent entrance. Now tell me, I've heard your pleas to the Brotherhood, but they didn't seem to be loud enough, hm? Not craving your enemies' deaths like a starving person finding their first meal? So far, it all seems to be a delicacy for you."
Maven clears her throat and pulls the Night Mother into a quiet corner only occupied by a servant. Cicero quickly follows with a half-eaten sweetroll.
"Do not speak so openly," The cowardly woman sneers.
"I can speak as I wish and where I wish." The Night Mother lets Maven go. Some residual hatred still burns just below the surface for her. Even though it is not her own. This was the woman who plead to the Dark Brotherhood to steal into the night and kill Eve's parents. Only her failure led to Lord Harkon taking on the job himself. And thus, being a pesky, depraved lunatic for months, he nearly took Eve to her own death. And that would not have been ideal…
"I'm sorry, I heard there was no listener at the time." Maven whispers harshly.
"The Listener." Cicero repeats in an equally raspy whisper around his sweetroll.
"There was not, I am the only listener now." The Night Mother confirms, "I take the contracts and I delegate them to which assassin I see fit. Next time you need someone dead I will heed your call. But choose wisely from your enemies. Some might turn on you before anyone can get a blade in their back."
Maven's mouth is hanging open at the bluntness of the conversation. The Night Mother goes back into the room, leaving the arrogant woman at the table. She knows Maven won't come searching for her or attacking the Brotherhood anytime soon now.
Ondolemar, the head of the Thalmor Justiciars in Skyrim, is watching her with hooded eyes. So she strikes up conversation with him next. "And how are you enjoying the party?"
He gives her a blank expression, "None of these people cares a whit about the religious aspects of this war. Another sign of the degeneracy of your Empire."
"I have nothing to say for them, they let themselves down." She smiles politely and takes a drink from the goblet. Absolutely disgusting.
He glances away, looking for an exit but she wasn't done with him just yet. "What brings you to this party if you are so spiteful towards them?"
The man is unfazed by who he is talking to, his upper lip curls when he sends her a withering glance. "There are those in the Empire who would wish to evade their obligations to help root out the Talos heresy. Fortunately, those most opposed to the Emperor's wise policy have now branded themselves traitors as well as heretics. I am here to remind the ruling classes of Skyrim that their loyalty to the Emperor requires cooperation with the Thalmor."
"Precisely." She whispers. The man looks away again to the crowd. He should be asking her of her allegiances, but this is par for the course with her interactions with the Thalmor. They don't bother each other. To strike out is like hitting a beehive from either side and for the Night Mother, she has no doubt the Brotherhood could pick off the Thalmor easily. They already were. But the Thalmor are strong and the Night Mother can only expend so much right now, when they are fighting the dragons and working on the other Holds.
Before the Night Mother can go intimidate someone further, they are reminded of their quest. "Did you see that serving girl?" Erikur sways but lays a hand on her shoulder, "I hear elf women are insatiable…" He drools over her.
She shoves his hand off. "Control yourself you imp." She growls, "I do not tolerate traitors first and foremost, but you are making me reconsider my position on halfwits. Care to pick out the plot of your grave?" She eyes him. He is unwavering in his stupidity.
"Hah! Feisty! I always wondered what the Night Mother looked like and here I am, seeing her in her pristine flesh and blood!" He goes to grab at her waist, just to pull her closer for what he considers seduction.
The jester gets in the way. "You will not speak to Mother like that! You must apologize this instant!" Cicero snarls. He has no knives but his posture and face are more than intimidating.
The Night Mother just watches this man bumble a foolish answer and quietly excuse himself from the party. Cicero turns to her. All eyes were on them right now. And she shouldn't show weakness. "Erikur." She calls.
The man, with the memory of a puppy, turns with a big grin on his face. "I knew you couldn't resist."
She wants to fry him until he is ash on the ground. But they need to go for a more furtive approach as not to let their intentions be revealed…what is she even doing being covert? She owns this Hold. She raises her hand and blasts him straight through the chest with her power.
He falls to the ground screaming. The other patrons begin their own hysteria and in the madness. The Night Mother grabs her Child's hand. They race to the other side of the room where Malborn is watching on in horror.
"We needed a distraction but this…" His fearful gaze latches onto the two figures approaching him.
"Open the door, we go now." The Night Mother commands. Malborn does as directed and they steal through the back door.
"There are to be no guests in my kitchen!" A Khajit woman exclaims.
"A guest fell ill." Malborn quickly supplies, "Your things are in the chest around the corner." He states and continues to speak but the Night Mother shoves Cicero to get his goods.
The rest of the journey is pitifully boring. Most Thalmor weren't even looking when she hit them with her power, or when Cicero stabbed them in the back. They barely had a time to catch her face to know her name. Every room is increasingly less well-kept than the last and soon they are standing in what would go for a dingy horse stable.
"Mother what of him?" Cicero gazes at the man in shackles.
"I told you, I don't know anything else about it." The man moans. He doesn't look up, just keeps his head down in defeat. He has been beaten and chained for a long time.
The Night Mother tilts her head to contemplate, they always need new recruits. "You have one choice, stay here and rot the rest of your life away with the Thalmor. Or, follow us and become a member of the Dark Brotherhood."
The man is broken from his haze, he looks up in fear. "The Night Mother."
"Hurry, hurry! We have no time to waste!" Cicero urges, he jumps towards the man who only jumps back in temporary fear.
"I, yes, let me go." Cicero takes the shackles away. The woman in the next room isn't as grateful but they release her, nonetheless. Cicero understands if the woman doesn't follow their orders, she is to be left dead wherever they stand.
The choice is made for them. A troll attacks when they enter the dungeons and kills the woman. The Night Mother disposes of the uncivilized creature in the most unimaginative way possible, and they continue on.
"What am I to do?" The man asks along the way. He wipes some of the dirt off his face with a handful of snow. He could be something to look at when all cleaned up.
"You are to do exactly as we say. Are you good with a sword?" She asks as her eyes roam his body. He is weakened, but he has enough muscle to be a decently powerful fighter.
"Yes. Somewhat." He says hesitantly.
"Good. Nazir will give you a weapon of your choosing when we reach the Castle."
No more words are said. They find the exit into the Skyrim wilderness in no time. Over this mountain the Castle will be in clear view. When they hit the road, the man breaks out into a full out run, straight down the mountain and away from the Night Mother.
She sighs, how disappointing. One quick flick of her wrist and the man is pulverized by a lighting strike.
"Ashes to ashes they all fall down! I knew he would do that, Mother! Did you?" Cicero squeals as he grabs the long train of her dress. Would be a shame to ruin it now.
"I had feared. But I also had a little hope. We can always use new recruits." She murmurs.
"Ah, Mother, not to worry. They are getting more in Winterhold as we speak. Think of it! More mages on our side!"
She smiles at that. Mages are deadly with the amount of skill and power they have. She just needs to make sure they don't try to betray her like that man did. They might not be as easy of a fight.
"I said to send a letter." Days later the Night Mother stands at the edge of her island with her hands clasped in front of her dress. The stone brick drops down sharply into the great sea, so if Delphine wanted to traverse that, as she did, then it was at her own risk.
She rolls out of the boat and shakes the dirt off her mud-stained armor when she stands. No one helps her, they don't need to. "Sorry, I don't think this information is un-confidential enough to trust with the errand boy."
"Does he have a grudge against you?" The Night Mother muses. After they arrived home she changed into a far more modest black dress. Cicero took what they found from the Thalmor, not that it was much, to a safe in the Castle. Then they waited. The Night Mother received and sent out more contracts as she saw fit. It was a relentless schedule, albeit repetitive.
That is, until Babette came to the dining room to tell her a human woman was rowing over to the island on her own boat. Since the Night Mother doubted Maven needed another word, she came out on her own with Cicero and Babette in tow. Imagine her amusement when she found the Innkeeper, drenched and shaking before her.
"I'm glad you made it back. Did you learn anything useful?" Delphine asks.
"Yes, I did. The Thalmor have no knowledge of the dragons." The Night Mother watches Delphine's expression change. How hopeful she was for her theory to pan out.
"You're sure about that?" She has the gall to question her.
"Yes, we found documents and poured over them for all of thirty minutes. No mention of dragons whatsoever." The Night Mother repeats.
The woman is more desperate than she thought, "Did you find anything? Anything at all?"
She sighs, how much time this is wasting. "Just rambling about looking for a man named Esbern."
"Esbern?" The Innkeeper perks up, "He's alive? I thought the Thalmor must have gotten him years ago. That crazy old man…Figures the Thalmor would be on his trail though if they were trying to find out what's going on with the dragons."
The Night Mother has been tiring of this charade, "And what would the Thalmor want with Esbern?"
"You mean aside from wanting to kill every Blade they can lay their hands on?" The Innkeeper's brow furrows, "Esbern was one of the Blades archivists, back before the Thalmor smashed us during the Great War. He knew everything about the ancient dragonlore of the Blades. He was obsessed with it, really. Nobody paid much attention back then. I guess he wasn't as crazy as we all thought."
Oh, this was priceless. "The document also mentioned he is possibly in Riften." The Night Mother says.
"Riften, eh? Probably down in the Ratway, then. It's where I'd go." Delphine takes a look around and stands mesmerized by the towering Castle above, "Amazing. Some place you have here."
"It took more than you hope to know to earn it." The Night Mother smiles and waits…
"You should go to Riften. Talk to Brynjolf. He's…well connected. A good starting point at least. Oh, and when you find Esbern…if you think I'm paranoid… you may have some trouble getting him to trust you. Just ask him where he was on the 30th of Frostfall. He'll know what it means." She keeps her eyes on the Castle. A mistake.
"Don't sully yourself, you're not paranoid." The Night Mother purrs, "I assume you are headed back to the Inn?"
"If that is best. I need to prepare." The woman, oblivious to them now, begins to look for the oar.
"We will come find you when we have your friend." The Night Mother bids the Innkeeper farewell, "Don't expect anything soon. I need to prepare, myself."
Delphine nods and shoves off from the Castle. When she is a far enough distance away do they converse.
"Strange woman. Is she trustworthy?" Babette asks.
"For the time being, yes." The Night Mother replies.
"Are we going to see Listener?" Cicero asks, the Night Mother can't help but see a growing excitement in his eyes. He's been without his sister for too long.
"We will. We will wait until they are in Riften. I have a contact through Maven who will alert us when they arrive. We also need to fetch Esbern."
"Yes, Mother, two birds with one stone!" He squeals.
"Yes," The Night Mother smiles at the thought of it all, "It will be a wonderful family reunion."
Cicero's Journal Entry
15th of Sun's Height, 4E 202
Innkeeper came to the Castle today! She brought the best news! Listener is alive and well in Riften, indeed! Cicero had wondered where she was and what she was doing. Hopefully nothing too nefarious. Mother would not be pleased.