"I still can't believe you never told me that the leader of the Greybeards is a bloody dragon, Aisling! What was his name again? Party Snacks?"
"Paarthurnax wasn't going to eat you, Delvin... well, let me rephrase that. He wasn't going to eat you unless he caught you in a rather blatant lie or believed that you did not have my interests at heart- bit overprotective like that, the old man is. But there's a reason I don't go talking about that openly."
A bald head shakes in veiled amusement as the pair continue to ride away from Ivarstead in the direction of Helgen and the Whiterun Border. "You mean besides the fact nearly all of Skyrim would be either in a panic or demanding you do your duty as the Dragonborn?"
"Hardly. Prior to becoming the protectors of the Emperor- before the creation of the Penitus Oculatus, of course- the Blades started out as dragon hunters. After the end of the Septim bloodline with the assassination of Uriel VII, then the sacrifice of his son Martin to defeat Mehrunes Dagon- therefore, no Dragonborn to serve- they had returned up to Cloud Ruler Temple. They were at the receiving end of the Thalmor's ire because, unlike their successors who were bound by Imperial policy and bureaucracy, the Blades were still able to operate freely. When the Great War started, all of the Blades that were in the Aldmeri Dominion were slaughtered, their heads sent back to the Emperor, followed by the Thalmor razing Cloud Ruler Temple to the ground. When the White-Gold Concordat was signed, one of the requirements that gets overlooked was that the order had to disband- sending all of the remaining members into hiding.
"You already know how I ended up interacting with the Blades through Delphine, but I never finished the story... I was on the receiving end of the supposed acting grandmaster's ire because I refused to kill Paarthurnax on her command. In order to get her to stop hassling me, I brought her bones and scales from an Ancient Dragon, said that they belonged to the old man, and told her that I was done with her little crusade. If she wanted dragons killed, then the blasted woman can get off her high horse and do it herself- I dealt with the larger threats of Alduin and Miraak, and handled the Civil War between the Empire and the Stormcloaks, not to mention cleaning up the mess Elisif threw the province back into. I'm tired of saving the world, Del- I need to take care of me and mine now. Someone else has to take over."
"So no more running off to shadows know where without letting us know? That will be the day, Aisling."
The blonde just smirks at him over her shoulder for a moment, then goes "Unfortunately for me, there's this domineering asshole who has decided that he's going to go everywhere with me, even if it's just a run up to Shor's Stone to mine some more ebony- and that's not a day's ride!"
Before Delvin could come up with some quick retort, he watches as the Nord gently tugs on the reins, bringing her mount to a stop. Quickly halting his own, the older man quietly asks "What is it?"
"This is... was... Helgen. This is where everything started- the 17th day of Last Seed, 4E 201... No matter how hard I try, I will never forget that day." A glove covered hand points towards a misshapen box of sorts as she elaborates "There. That's where I had my first encounter with Alduin- the afternoon the Empire didn't care I was in the wrong place at the wrong time and sent me to be executed with Ulfric's men."
"Explains a lot... but it doesn't explain how you ended up sidin' with the Stormcloaks durin' the war, or why, after you came home, you turned down any job in Eastmarch for the most part." Minutes pass and Delvin wonders if he stepped over a line when the woman beside him says nothing. Finally, she responds.
"I swear Delvin that I will tell you, just not now- when we get to Windhelm. There's things a very small circle of people know- they all happened before I joined up with the Guild, so even someone like you would have had a hard time trying finding information."
"If you don't want to tell me..."
Aisling shakes her head in the negative. "No. You of all people deserve to know. It will just be easier to show you, and I can only do that in Windhelm. But that doesn't mean I can't tell you of things as we come across their relevant places." She pauses, her eyes widening slightly as the woman realizes the ramifications of not only the offer, but the fact that there was a chance that the Breton beside her might not want to hear of her past. "That is, if you want to hear them, that is. It might not be something you'd be interested, and I completely understand if that is the case-"
"Shh," Delvin goes, reaching over and taking her hand in his. As he presses his lips against the pulse point, the older thief adds "I'll listen to anything and everything you want to tell me. Whatever any of us in the Guild knows about you is either from rumors, bards who may or may not be embellishing, and a few secondhand accounts."
"People don't know things for a good reason, Mallory, but..." A soft sigh escapes the Nord, then she says "Just don't hold anything against me, nor can you repeat what I tell you- I'm putting a lot at risk with some of the subjects I'll end up broaching."
"Never, and you have my word I'll take everything to the afterlife, Aisling."
She nods, and as the pair continues on their way through Helgen, starts by telling him of when she first woke up in the cart, the confusion she felt at not knowing where she was and how she got there. His Guild Master speaks of the men in bonds with her: Lokir- the Nord horse thief from Rorikstead shot dead by Imperials trying to escape; Ralof- the young idealistic Stormcloak soldier from Riverwood who helped her escape from the inferno that was Helgen; and lastly, Ulfric Stormcloak, the Jarl of Windhelm turned rebellion leader who was bound, gagged, and on his way to his execution.
More than just a hint of animosity leaks into Aisling's voice as she makes mention of Elenwen, the Altmer First Emissary and the Ambassador of the Thalmor in Skyrim- or, as she quotes the young man from Riverwood, the 'Thalmor bitch', then General Tullius, the Empire's Provincial Governor of Skyrim, who was only doing his job... though that didn't stop her from killing him at the end of the Civil War.
"Do you regret doing that?"
"No, not really- not anymore, anyways. It has been a bit over two years since it happened, so I was able to come to terms with it… He was the commanding officer of the Empire's soldiers here in Skyrim. I swore an oath to the Stormcloaks, and you know better than anyone else I'm a person of my word. If he had lived, the chances of my surviving til I reached 40 winters would have become rather slim after that. And imagine where the Guild would be now if that had happened, hmm?"
Her story continues on as they travel on their way to their first stop, which Aisling told him would be Breezehome in Whiterun's capital. Delvin's listened attentively as she speaks of Alduin attacking just as she was about to lose her head, choosing to follow Ralof instead of the Imperial soldier Hadvar through the tunnels and caves out of the village now in ruins and their reaching Riverwood, where his sister and brother-in-law ran the mill. Gerdur asking to tell the Jarl of Whiterun that the defenseless town needed guards since Alduin was up in the mountains somewhere- not that any of them would be able to permanently deal with the World Eater. Farengar, the more than slightly condescending court wizard for Balgruuf the Greater, sending her to Bleak Falls Barrow to find something he called a Dragonstone.
Riverwood comes and goes, Delvin hearing a Bosmer griping about another man named Sven, Ailsing deciding against paying a visit to the mill or inn- too many questions that she's in no mood to answer, she honestly tells him. As much as he wanted to know, the Breton doesn't press knowing the woman would explain in her own time. The Nord continues with her story in Whiterun Hold, talking of the undead walking in the barrow, the Dunmer who stole a strange golden claw from a shop in the village, the strange stone wall with even stranger writing that she didn't understand and yet did at the same time, and briefly mentioning her first interactions with the Daedric Princes when, after touching what she thought was a rather large multi-faceted gem, Meridia demands that the young adventurer cleanse her desecrated temple.
"How many Daedra did you swear oaths to?"
"And kept? Three- Mephala, Hermaeus Mora and, of course, Nocturnal. Some, such as Sanguine and Sheogorath, I certainly helped but I couldn't and wouldn't swear any allegiances whatsoever to them. Most of them I avoided for rather sane reasons if one thinks on it- I don't think you see me sticking human flesh in my mouth, do you?"
"Well-"
"SHUT UP MALLORY!" The ginger yells out, her face nearly matching the color of her hair. She huffs as her intended starts laughing like an idiot in his saddle. "See if you get to sleep in the bed tonight old man... I'm sure that there's a cell up in Dragonsreach with your name on it. Or I could call in a favor with my friend Heimskr and see if you can spend the night with him- you'll learn all you ever could want to learn about Talos that way."
"Please don't Aisling I beg you." Delvin knew exactly who his Guild Master was talking about- the over-zealous Nord priest of Whiterun who could be seen giving his sermons before the statue of Talos for hours upon hours a day- the preacher was the other reason why many of the Guild tended to not linger in the Hold controlled by Vignar Gray-Mane, or take jobs there at all. While he'd like to think that the Nord thief was only teasing with him about the possible punishment, he also knew that the threat of such an action was very much possible.
"Oh believe me, you certainly will be begging later, loud enough that Vignar will hear you up in the Cloud District and then Olfrid will be sure to pass the word onto Brynjolf that a woman had you cowering in fear." If it wasn't for the slight upturn of her mouth, the Breton certainly would have believed she was completely serious. Or maybe is was, and is trying to lull me into a false sense of security.
The two ride in silence the rest of the way to their destination, leaving their horses with Skulvar Sable-Hilt. Knowing that she had no need to show him around Whiterun- there was even a very good chance the Sneak Trainer knew the city better than she did- Aisling just brings Delvin straight to Breezehome. "It's not much," she says to him as the door silently shuts behind them, "But it's a relatively safe place. I've been considering turning most of the homes I have into safe spots for the Guild, that way they're not pulling a Vipir- you'll get to see them before we head back home."
Home. It was a rather strange concept for Delvin, the thought of calling a place home. Honorhall Orphanage was no home, it was its' own sphere of Oblivion on Nirn. And while the Cistern was great- in it's own dark, dingy sort of way he supposed- there was little to no privacy, but... Well, he wasn't young anymore, and age didn't always just bring wisdom. It also had the habit of bringing slower reaction times which ended up meaning a smaller chance of coming back from a job. Originally the thief had no problem with the thought of doing work for the Guild until he died of old age, but now with Aisling knowing how he felt and vice versa... Maybe it was time for him to set back and let the younger generation handle the plundering of Tamriel. But can I convince Aisling to step away with me? He had no idea.
Before he could open his mouth, Delvin's topaz eyes darken, watching hips covered in black leather sway back and forth as Aisling walks up the stairs to the second floor. She pauses on the landing and, glancing over her shoulder, calls down "Coming?" The Nord Guild Master didn't have to ask twice as he bounded up the steps behind her.
Definitely a question for a later date.
A/N: Oh hi there. Yes, still alive. Yes, still trying to write. Between training for me new job and actually starting said job I've not had much time to get writing in- I think I was sitting on this for a good month trying to get it done, as well as crawling slowly with the others. Eventually I just went 'Pick one and get a chapter done'. So I did!
We're going to be skipping the other Holds and Solstheim and going straight to Windhelm- if I write for all of them the story would never end and the City of Kings is right now the only location that matters for the plot of the story. If I do write little shorts for this (which I probably will if the muses are feeling kind), it probably will be about Solstheim, mainly for the interaction of the Mallory boys. There will be a short little thing after this finishes, and... fortunately or unfortunately depending on how you look at it... there will be a sequel to this. The side story I alluded to back when Aisling gave the High King a rude awakening will also happen...eventually. I swear. Really. It will happen... when I learn better time management. And not burn myself out.
So believe me, the updates will flow, the writer must awaken. I must not not write, not writing is the mind killer...something something...