She was silent on the carriage ride back, with tendrils of frost extending down her hands to where they were hidden under her sleeves. Her skirts, balled up in her hands, had frozen, with a larger damp spot where the ice was melting against the heat of the air. Her Housecarl sat at attention in contrast to Ulfric's own slouched posture, arms crossed directly across from the Dragonborn.
He stared at her, disappointed, angry, disgusted, in her, himself, Maven. A deserter. Elenwen's assertion had nearly caused her to have a violent outburst, if the Thieves' Guildmaster-by Talos, the Dragonborn had been right about Maven-hadn't swiftly pulled her away on the pretense of setting a time for tomorrow's discussion.
The carriage parked in front of her home, and the Dragonborn exited with perfect posture, her arms tucked within her sleeves gracefully, hiding all but a glint of ice. Her Housecarl followed her in, handing a small pouch to the driver before entering. Ulfric entered last, shutting the door behind him. "When?" he said, his voice rough with chagrin.
"At around ten tomorrow morning," the Dragonborn replied, reaching behind her neck to unclasp her jewelry. "You're more than welcome to come-"
"When?" Ulfric repeated, this time clear and commanding, the voice he had used many times with scared soldiers and overconfident commanders. He never used any Thu'um with it consciously, though he suspected that there was at least a whisper of the Voice that gave him that much more influence and power. The Dragonborn winced slightly, fumbling with her necklace before grabbing it by the jewel and ripping it off of her neck.
Pieces of the chain scattered as she tossed the ruined necklace at Ulfric, though he didn't have to move to avoid being hit. The Dragonborn grabbed a dagger off the table, taking it to the cloth down her side with one hand and ripping off the ruined fabric with the other. "My Thane-," Iona started, reaching for the dagger. The Dragonborn pulled away from her and continued shredding her clothing layers until she was left in her underdress and beaded party shoes. An Amulet of Talos hung around her neck.
"Thank you, Iona. You're dismissed." Iona hesitated and then bowed curtly, taking off her helmet as she headed towards the door, pushing past Ulfric to exit. The Dragonborn stood, staring at a far off spot on the wall Ulfric knew was miles away. She threw the dagger at the floor, driving it an inch or two deep, then bending down and gathering her ruined dress, throwing it into the fire. She remained quiet for another minute, watching the dyes in the fabric sparking and smoking. Ulfric began to repeat his question. "'When'," she repeated, cutting him off. "I'm no deserter, Stormcloak."
He didn't believe that for a second. "Then what are you?" Deserting was more than enough to send any soldier, no matter how loyal they had been in the past, to the executioner's axe.
She laughed suddenly. "Leave it to Elenwen to ruin my plans. I was going to leave this in a letter for you if I died against Alduin. I am the reason Imperial City fell during the Great War."
Ulfric stood still. That was a lie, he knew better than anyone the reason the Imperial City fell, just as he had known its defenses, the weak points in its towering walls, the tactics its guards favored. It fell because Elenwen tore the secrets Ulfric knew out of him with whips and blades and magic. No one else had comprehensive knowledge of the city like he did. No one else could've spilled as much as he did.
"And if you consider calling for retreat, leaving corpses behind to rot desertion, then Elenwen is right. Most of them were young, too young to see battle and with only a month of training. The draft was too lenient, the Empire was too desperate for bodies to fill in the ranks. At Fort Ash, I was commanding from the front, since there were only five mages left in my cohorts, but we couldn't do much against an entire army of Thalmor wizards and battlemages. It was a massacre from the start."
He was familiar with Fort Ash. It was in a strategically important position, halfway between Chorral and the Imperial City. It fell not long after he reclaimed Skingrad, and he could've held the city if it weren't for orders to travel north and defend Fort Nikel, or, if the Thalmor had already pushed further towards the Imperial City by the time he arrived, Weye. Ulfric didn't know many of the details about the siege itself, but the fort had been a total loss, and there had been survivors. He talked to a few at Fort Nikel to get insight on how the Thalmor might attack. He frowned.
"There wasn't any hope for us. My last order was to run, it was the only possible way even one of us had a chance. I and seven soldiers fled, even though others chose to stay behind and die in battle. We split up when we ran, since one person can sneak past an entire army easier than eight. I was captured a day later, and taken to interrogation. Seven others were in the same prison cart." The Dragonborn stopped, wiping at her face. She was crying. "They were killed not long after we arrived, and I was interrogated for Divines know how long." She pulled up her sleeves, revealing deep scars winding down her arms.
They were reminders, Ulfric realized. She could've had them healed years ago, as Ulfric himself did.
"You're familiar with their techniques, I know," she continued. "I didn't know much about the Imperial City defense, but I grew up there, poor and bored. We used to play in the sewers."
"You gave the Dominion a second entrance into the city."
The Dragonborn nodded. "If you know the way, you can get into the White-Gold Tower from outside the walls."
They were both silent. Ulfric wasn't sure how much of her story he believed; it contradicted so much of what he already knew, but a large part of him wanted to believe it. Ordering a retreat wasn't desertion, though leaving soldiers behind to fight without a commander, even if they were disobeying orders, was dishonorable and, under the official definition, desertion. But Fort Ash had been hopeless, the Dragonborn made it just as clear now as the soldiers that reported to him during the Great War. He had seen Thalmor wizards take on dozens of soldiers single-handedly.
In addition, just knowing a back entrance likely wasn't enough for the Thalmor to take Imperial City. It had been crawling with soldiers, nearly the entire remaining Imperial Army, at the time of its siege. He had given them all the weak points he'd recognized, the formations, patrols, routines he'd knew they'd follow, the sources of all incoming supplies, everything he had. It, ultimately, was his interrogation that led to the fall of the Imperial City, the White-Gold Concordat, and the banning of Talos.
But knowing an unsecured path definitely helped the Thalmor.
"That's why you were being executed," Ulfric finally said. He almost regretted breaking the silence. Even he didn't know if he was referencing her 'desertion' or the consequences of her interrogation. Either way, both were serious enough to warrant a headsman, even a quarter-century later. There was a reason Ulfric had never told anyone, not even Galmar, of his interrogation.
"I'll let you decide for yourself if I am truly a deserter," the Dragonborn answered. She sat down heavily in a chair. "After all, you have no proof aside from my word, and I doubt you trust me."
She was right; Ulfric didn't trust her. She was a ranking Imperial officer, brought to Skyrim on a prison cart, that led the destruction of his army and sieged his own Hold, a dark elf who didn't hesitate to dispose of a body in the Sea of Ghosts and knew exactly where to go to make a deal with the Thieves' Guild. She took him prisoner using the Old Laws, stripping him of his honor. And yet she kept him alive and hadn't treated him as a captive since she cut his bonds outside of Windhelm when he knew General Tullius was itching for his blood to stain a sword. She was right about Maven working with the Thieves' Guild, and possibly with the Thalmor, and had almost as much reason to hate the Dominion as he did. She wore an Amulet of Talos and was Dragonborn. And it was obvious that she trusted him.
The Dragonborn had no reason to lie, especially about something so incriminating and dishonorable. She hadn't even let her own Housecarl hear her confession. Ulfric didn't want Elenwen to be right either, even if it did mean the Dragonborn was far less noble than she acted. Divines, he longed for the days when determining someone's hidden agenda was as simple as waiting to see what they demanded in negotiations. "What else are you hiding?" Ulfric asked. He didn't even know if she had anything else to hide, but any way she responded would provide a wealth of information to him.
"I have your Thalmor Dossier in Whiterun," she said, looking at the dagger stuck in the floor. "I was going to give it to you whether I lived or died."
Ulfric always knew, in the back of his mind, he had a Dossier. It was likely started soon after they discovered his identity years ago, though he had no idea the kind of information within. He'd never read a Dossier himself, though his spies had reported the contents that they had read on various locales. He waited, staring at her, for her to reveal anything else unprompted.
"They still consider you an asset, which is probably why Elenwen didn't arrest you tonight. They need you alive," she said.
"You need me alive."
"For an entirely different reason."
"Will you still need me alive after you attempt to trap a dragon in Whiterun? After Alduin? You may have been captive to the Thalmor, but who's to say you won't turn me over to them, or your precious Empire, after he is dead?"
"I would never betray you."
"What will happen to me? Will you kill me like your General ordered? Leave me to rot in a dungeon? Like you said, I don't trust you."
The Dragonborn stood so fast the chair she was sitting in fell back. "How can I earn your trust? I've already trusted my life to you, and you saved me twice now. Once, in Helgen, before you knew who, what I am, and not long ago, when you kept me from bleeding out on the road. You have my trust, Ulfric, even though it is not returned. If you wish, you can leave whenever you want."
"And where will I go? You've taken everything from me!" Ulfric replied. He realized his voice had risen to a shout. He watched the Dragonborn's face fall again. It was pitiful, her face was still stained with tears and she looked small outside of glowing armor and robes.
"I've given you a second chance!" The Dragonborn raised her arms and gestured wildly. "Why can't you see that? If you would just recognize what you still have-"
"What do I have, Dragonborn?" Ulfric cut her off, dropping his voice to a whisper. "Tell me, what is one thing I have?"
The Dragonborn stopped and pulled down her sleeves back down. "The trust of someone who wants to see you as High King."
"How pleasant to see you so soon, Thane Therel," Maven said. Nariilu smiled and took her outstretched hand. She'd much rather be finishing Stormcloak's armor with Balimund than discussing business with Maven. "General Stormcloak, you didn't have to bother yourself with attending."
"I'd never miss an opportunity to speak with you, Jarl," Stormcloak replied. It hadn't taken much convincing to get him to come along. She was glad he recognized the Guildmaster the night before, and was certain it had to do with his decision to stay, though Nariilu knew he really had nowhere else. Still, as much as he wouldn't admit it, her accusations against Maven being correct, along with her desire to eventually make him High King (though she knew he didn't fully believe it) was enough to crack his hopeless outlook.
He trusted her, at least a little, at least subconsciously, but Stormcloak was smart enough to know she still had secrets and hidden agendas. He'd learn about those eventually; he was a curious man. For example, Nariilu knew he chose to join her because he wanted to know exactly what game Maven was playing.
"I'm sure you have other, more important matters to attend to," Maven said, half a statement, half a question.
"And leave the Dragonborn to talk economics by herself? With you, of all people? Please, I must make sure she gets at least something out of this," Stormcloak said. Nariilu ignored his joking insult, she knew he was much more experienced when it came to economics and Maven.
Maven blinked, then laughed and led them to a sitting room with bottles of mead already placed on a table in between two smaller couches, ready to pour into waiting mugs. As they sat, Maven waved over a steward who did just that, bringing a pitcher of what looked like white wine with him. "Juniper berry juice," she explained. "It brightens the mead, makes it perfect for mornings." A hulking Nord came and stood behind her, crossing his arms.
"Will your financial advisor be joining us?" Nariilu asked. She hoped so; seeing Frey again in daylight would prove beyond a shadow of a doubt that he was the Thieves' Guildmaster, and, judging from their conversation at the table the night prior, he was a fan of double meanings that all but revealed his longstanding relationship with Maven.
"No, he has business to attend to elsewhere. I believe he's checking in on the revenue of the merchants in the Market District," Maven said. Nariilu made a mental note to ask Balimund if the Thieves' Guild had demanded payment today. "Shall we discuss our own business?"
Nariilu nodded, taking a sip of the mead and juice. Damn, it was delicious. The same steward brought over a roll of parchment and handed it to Nariilu. She opened it and held it where Stormcloak could see it as well. It was a simple request, arranging for the delivery of meads and wines to the Solitude docks, both through land routes and by boat from Windhelm. Maven explained that Jarl Elisif hadn't been responding to her letters. "I have also received word that there is a worker who is blocking my attempts to enter the market. I wouldn't be surprised if he is intercepting my letters, perhaps even slandering my good name. I'd also like you to find him and discover his reasons for doing so."
"That isn't listed in this contract," Stormcloak mentioned.
"I'd like to keep that matter very quiet," Maven replied. "I can't have records of people damaging my business. It gives people the wrong idea. At the same time, I did not get to where I am today by ignoring slights such as this. Reparations are in order, of course."
"You want me to rough him up," Nariilu said.
"No, I simply want information. If it takes certain…physicalities to obtain that, I'll leave that to you to decide."
"This doesn't outline my payment, either. You mentioned it was something other than Septims," Nariilu said. She was surprised Maven didn't outright say she wanted whoever was interfering with her business dead and strung up as a message. She must need Ulfric to trust her.
"The Emperor's cousin, Vittoria Vici, is planned to marry this summer," Maven said. "She's marrying a longtime business partner of mine, and, as such, I am able to secure many invitations to her wedding."
"I've heard," Nariilu replied. "I'm sure it will be a day to remember."
"There will be many influential people there, from all over Tamriel."
"I would expect no less."
"I can get you an invitation."
Nariilu waited for Maven to continue, but she didn't. "My payment for convincing Jarl Elisif to let your product in her port and finding a man who is conspiring against you and your business is an invitation to a wedding?"
"Quite possibly the most important wedding of the century," Maven explained. "Vittoria has a rather strong claim to the Ruby Throne, you know. It would be a great opportunity for you to try and gain a bit of influence, as you've been attempting to do for a while now. You should know that allowing you to attend under my business will be damaging to myself, as it is an event for the pinnacle of society, and you, Thane or not, are simply a lowborn adventurer."
"Is that all you're offering? You want me to legitimize your trade through the East Empire Company, and allow you to not only monopolize the mead trade, but also move stolen goods through all of the Empire? Not to mention the worker you want me to track down." Nariilu asked. Maven kept her face neutral, leaning back. "Besides, I already have my own invitations. Vittoria gave them to me personally," Nariilu continued. "She's a wonderful neighbor, by the way." Maven narrowed her eyes. "So, I suggest you come up with something worth my time and effort. Quickly."
Maven was quiet, sipping her mead. "You understand I have other contacts that can do this for me," she finally said. "I'm offering you an opportunity to work with me. That should be payment enough. General Stormcloak can attest to my goodwill; those I choose to work with prosper." She looked expectantly at Stormcloak.
Stormcloak didn't reply and sipped his own mead. Nariilu doubted he missed how Maven failed to refute her claims that she'd be transporting ill-gotten gains.
"I don't work for 'opportunity', Jarl," Nariilu said.
"What do you work for?"
"Power." Nariilu paused and leaned forwards, placing her mead down on the table. "As Jarl, you're uniquely capable of bestowing it." She was aware of the inquisitive look Stormcloak was sending to her. He had expressed his distaste for thieves of any kind before, especially working with them. He likely considered working with Maven, now that he knew of her ties to the Thieves' Guild, a similar breech of morals, but he would have to ignore that. Nariilu had plans for Maven, if she followed them, morals be damned.
"You're already Thane."
"I want to be named as your successor for Jarl."
"What?" Ulfric muttered under his breath. She had caught him off guard; Nariilu briefly wondered if she should've told him the full extent of her plans. No, he'd learn when it was time, they all would.
Maven, damn her, kept her composure. "Do you wish to see me dead, my Thane?" She asked with a slight, almost predatory smile. Her bodyguard glared down at Nariilu.
"I'll let you decide, Jarl," Nariilu replied. She returned Maven's smile. "I'd like to see myself on the throne in your absence, instead of one of your children."
"My children are idiots," Maven said. Her steward coughed nearby. "If I do make you my successor, how can I ensure my own safety?"
"It would be foolish to say that my natural life will be shorter than yours, so I will most certainly see you dead instead of the other way around." Nariilu shrugged. "I have over a century of life left to live, and you have no more than a few decades. Good things come to those who wait, Jarl Blackbriar."
Maven raised her hand and her bodyguard leaned over the couch. Maven whispered into his ear for a while, and her bodyguard walked to the steward and whispered to him. "I'll do it, but only after you complete the task I've given to you." Maven's steward left the room and her bodyguard returned to his post behind Maven. "I'll include a clause in the Writ of Succession that will void it if I am murdered. And one more thing."
Nariilu hadn't expected Maven to agree. She fought to keep a smirk off of her face but knew she was failing. Even having to be Maven's bitch for a month or two was worth it. After Blackbriar Mead was flowing through Solitude, it would be easy to find any contraband she was hiding in the barrels and undeniably link her to the Thieves' Guild. She would be dethroned and disenfranchised. "Of course, Jarl."
"I want you to find who purchased Goldenglow Estate and bring them to me."
Simple enough. Iona likely had insight into that purchase, her previous Thane had been Aringoth Goldenglow, after all. Strange how Maven was asking her instead of Iona herself to track the buyer down, though. "Consider it done." Nariilu shook hands with Maven, sealing the deal.
The documents were drafted and Nariilu took her copy, reading it and the original over carefully before signing both. Stormcloak and Maven's steward signed as a witness; the steward signed as Hemming Blackbriar. "I'm glad that you've moved past our prior disagreements. I believe you'll find working for me is beneficial in the short term, as well," Maven said, leading them to the door.
"If the immediate rewards can even hold a candle to the future, it will be more than enough," Nariilu responded. Maven had become more amicable after the terms were set; it seemed she did not trust her children to continue her legacy, nor did she particularly care what happened after her death.
"Say hello to Etienne for me! He's a wonderful young man, very skilled," Maven said, standing just outside the doorway to see them out of the castle gates. "He has never failed me, and I hope he doesn't fail you. Send him back quickly! I hate to settle for lesser employees."
Nariilu saw Stormcloak tense out of the corner of her eye. She grabbed his wrist and squeezed. "Give Frey my thanks for his continued discretion and secrecy." She turned and pulled Stormcloak along with her. He kept looking back at Maven.