During a lull in the war, Mercy vanished. Ralof hadn't even seen her leave; it had been as if one moment she'd been there, the next she was gone. He wasn't given time to be miffed, though; there was talk of Thalmor camped in the mountains north of Windhelm. He took a raiding party out, seeking the intruders.
When they returned three days later, empty-handed and half-frozen, Ulfric told them an emissary had come with threats to kill the Jarl's sister and nephew if he did not surrender. Ralof had never seen the man who would be king falter, but Ulfric had a look of fear in his eyes that said he'd never faced this sort of dilemma.
"Why not send a small group to rescue them?"
Mercy's voice broke the shock and tension in the hall; all eyes turned toward her as she calmly regarded the king.
"We do not know where they are being held. If the team were discovered they would all be killed instantly. I… I know what I have said in the past. I just…" Ulfric trailed off, placing his head in his hands.
"You never thought you would have to make the choice between your future and the future of your kingdom." Mercy finished the thought for him.
"You make bold assumptions, cat. Where were you when we could've used you, huh?! You might've been the one to keep the Jarl's family from being kidnapped, did you think about that when you left?!" Greta snarled, drawing her mace and brandishing it at the Khajiit.
"This one had other matters of great importance to attend to. Had this one known that such plans were laid and in progress, this one would've advised the Jarl and the Commander, and would've personally waited outside the gates day and night so as to catch the elves in the act." Mercy responded calmly; her ears tilted back and her tail was trembling slightly, suggesting to Ralof that the calm mirror of her expression was a facade.
"What could be more important-"
"Greta. Enough." Ralof cut off the angry woman's rant, grabbing her arm and forcing her to point her weapon at the floor. "Accusations and assumptions won't fix any of this. Action will, and we need every man and woman at our command." He turned to look at Ulfric. "What would you have us do, my Jarl?"
"Send scouts and spies out. They've given us a month's reprieve, we should have plenty of time to find their fortress." The command was welcome, though Greta snarled at Mercy as she walked out to the barracks.
After a moment, only Ralof and Mercy stood before the king.
"Snow-Hammer. I hope that whatever you went looking for was worth the time spent?" Ulfric turned his gaze on Mercy, who nodded.
"This one discovered a group of cultists who sought to restore one of the ancient Dragon-Priests, an individual known as Miraak." She shuddered as the name rolled from her tongue, but shook her head and continued. "He had been trapped in one of the planes of Oblivion, and intended to return to Solstheim and enslave its inhabitants. He has been destroyed, so the island, and potentially Skyrim and other nations, is no longer threatened by his influence."
"Hmph. Well, it's some comfort, then, that you left and returned. What skill have you with removing people from hostile situations?" Ulfric stared her down for a moment, before she looked away.
"Sir? I thought you didn't-" Ralof began, but Ulfric hushed him.
"Mercy has some experience, sir. She may also have some ability to make it so their absence will not be missed, This one is not sure however. She hasn't ever tried it before." Mercy responded hesitantly.
"Good. Both of you, come with me." Ulfric stood and strode into the war room. Without thinking, Ralof followed him; he saw Mercy follow a moment later.
Ulfric led them to one of the upper balconies, one that overlooked the mountains. He waited a moment, ensuring that no-one could hear before he spoke again.
"There are spies among our people. I don't know who, and I don't know what they were offered, but I fear I cannot trust them concerning this. I know exactly where the Thalmor are holding my sister and her son."
Ralof was dumbstruck, and stared at Ulfric for a moment before he regained his senses.
"Why would anyone betray our cause when we have come this far?" He asked quietly, rage replacing surprise.
"Holding one's home and family hostage can be quite the leverage. Likely they want something to return to when the war is over." Mercy murmured. Ulfric nodded.
"Be that as it may, we'll weed out the traitors later. For now, you two can be trusted. I know this much, because you've both had ample opportunity and reason given to turn, and neither of you have. The Thalmor are holding Frigga and Bayard, alongside other Stormcloak allies, just north of Solitude in the Thalmor Embassy. If you two are willing to do this, I will arrange for a guide-"
"Pardon me, sire, but this one already knows the way. She has snuck into the Embassy before, on other matters." Mercy interrupted. Ulfric's face twitched, but he nodded.
"Would these 'other matters' have anything to do with the Blades, perchance? No matter, we will discuss that later. Ralof, what say you?" The King turned his storm-gray eyes to Ralof, who nodded.
"If that is where you want me to go, then by all means I will go. I just hope I'm more help than hindrance, matters of stealth were never my forte." He heard Mercy chuckle beside him, and made a note to growl at her later.
"Then go. You don't have much time."
"How you managed to get us in still amazes me." Ralof whispered.
"Tss! It'll be for naught if we get caught!" Mercy hissed in reply; the Nord nodded, watching as she picked the lock. They had crawled under the fence by the side of the Embassy, now Mercy was trying to get them into the building that housed the prison cells; they hadn't yet discussed how to get back out again (though Ralof had seen Mercy checking through a small ring of keys before they got there).
The infiltration went rather smoothly; Mercy dropped the one guard outside the building, while Ralof put down two others patrolling the courtyard. The only hitch came in the form of a grizzled captain. Ralof heard him enter the building after them, heard the startled intake of breath-
Then a wheeze and a thud. The Nord whirled, and saw the captain collapsed on the ground; Mercy towered over the Altmer, gripping a wicked-looking dagger freshly misted with blood. She regarded the body calmly, taking a key and the fat coinpurse at the mer's hip before picking the captain up and hauling him back outside into the snow. She returned a few minutes later and tossed the purse to Ralof, who caught it deftly as he stared at her.
"I didn't even see you move." He commented quietly. Mercy shrugged.
"This one has a few tricks up her sleeves." She murmured, quietly stalking across the room to the stairs, then down to the prison door.
Ralof felt the blood drain from his cheeks as he looked down at the makeshift prison; instruments of torture were laid out and crusted with old blood, and the cells themselves were tiny. He could see Frigga and her son curled up tightly in one corner of the closer cell, with a Stormcloak soldier comforting them in hushed tones from the next cell.
Ralof looked back to where Mercy had been, and found himself alone.
"Mercy?!" He whispered, otherwise freezing.
"Relax, Ralof. Mercy is right here. Is good to make sure that we weren't followed, yes?" She purred from behind him. "Now come on. We need to get them and get out before the guards are found." She vaulted over the bannister easily, landing on her feet with little more than a soft thump. Ralof sighed, preferring the stairs to a jump. Mercy was working on the first lock as he approached the cells, her Khajiiti accent rolling her words as she whispered assurances to the imprisoned.
"How good are you at picking a lock?" She asked over her shoulder. Ralof shook his head.
"You forget, I'm a soldier. Not a… er…" The words died in his throat as he realized what he'd been about to say. Mercy winced anyway.
"Understood. Take this and go unlock the trapdoor over there." She handed him a rusty key.
"Mercy… I didn't-"
"Ralof. Please. Go unlock the trapdoor." She cut him off, her words taking a sharper tone.
He turned his back, heard her curse as her lockpick snapped, and sighed. He walked over to the trapdoor, unlocked and removed the padlock, and hauled the thick wooden door door squeaked open behind him, and he heard Frigga and Bayard hurry out of the cell as Mercy moved to unlock the next one.
Within moments, they were all huddled around the trapdoor. Ralof eased himself onto the frozen ladder, testing it with his weight and making his way down into the darkness so he could help the others. Once his feet hit solid (cold) stone, he backed away from the ladder a few steps and gave a long, low whistle. One of the Stormcloak soldiers began climbing down the ladder, closely followed by Frigga and Bayard. The three shuffled away from the ladder. Ralof took an unlit torch from his belt, handing it to the soldier.
"Tss! They've found the captain! Hurry, hurry!" Mercy hissed from above; the other two Stormcloaks hurriedly clambered down the ladder, huddling with the one who had a torch. Ralof heard minor cursing, then backed up another step as Mercy dropped down the ladder to the ground. The door closed with a dull, heavy thud above them, and Mercy took the lead down the icy slopes into the darkness.
"And how do you propose we cover this up?" Ralof growled, seeing the embassy buzzing with activity (they had taken refuge in a nearby stand of trees).
"Simple. Wait here, yes?" Mercy purred in reply; the next moment, she shot up a tree and away through the branches. Ralof gave a silent roar of exasperation, then sat back to wait.
And wait.
And wait.
What seemed like an eternity later, he heard a faint roar and the dull sound of flapping wings.
"Wonderful. Now we have a dragon to-?!" He cut off, startled, as a massive orange-ish dragon swooped over the Embassy, bathing the building and guards in flame. The screams rose, as the dragon dove once again and released another gout of fire from its maw. Even those who escaped through the cave weren't safe - an odd shout caught them all in a dazed trance, waiting patiently for the dragon to devour them.
When it was over, the massive beast landed near the trees and lowered its head. Ralof drew his axe, alarmed, and watched in amazed silence as Mercy -his Mercy- climbed from the dragon's back to the snowy ground.
"My time is done. Farewell, thuri. May the winds favor you." The dragon rumbled. Mercy nodded, responding quietly, then stepping back to let the beast take wing and turn towards its home.
Ralof actively stared at the Khajiit. She met his gaze for a few moments, then glanced over the rest of the group.
"There will be a party here to investigate, and a snowstorm is coming from the north. We'd best move on before either one catches us." She said, simply. Then, she turned, and loped down the snowy road.
No matter how many times Ralof asked on the road back to Windhelm, Mercy never explained how she had been able to ride a dragon of all things, much less convince it to destroy the Embassy. She always said "It's not time for you to know" or "Not yet, not yet." It was frustrating to no end!
"Mercy, I want to understand! How can I if you won't trust me?!" Ralof snarled as they entered the city.
"'I'm a soldier. Not a sneakthief.'" She replied coolly. He sighed.
"I didn't mean that. You know I didn't mean it. I didn't even say anything about a sneakthief." He rumbled.
"You didn't have to. It's a title, just like Thane or Jarl or Dovahkiin. It is so easily implied that people don't catch themselves until it's unnecessary to say anything. This one doesn't want you or anyone to walk on eggshells around her just because she isn't a Nord. Who is Mercy to tread on the rights of a Son or Daughter of Skyrim? Who is she to ask them not to speak their minds?" She bore her teeth at him in a painful approximation of a smile.
"Mercy…"
"Stop coddling me, Ralof! This one has plenty of stripes from men who thought her very existence was a blight to society. Once this war is over, this one is going to complete her obligations, then return to Elsweyr and her life of solitude." She snapped, turning and storming away to one of the market-quarters. Ralof stood, staring after the Khajiit, until a soft touch on his shoulder brought him back to himself.
"You should report to Ulfric. That way she has time to calm down before you talk to her again." Frigga offered quietly. Ralof sighed, and nodded.
The next time he saw Mercy, they were assaulting Solitude. She stayed close to Ulfric and Galmar, quickly disappearing from his sight until it was over. Then, when Ulfric addressed them all, she stood off to the would-be king's right, back a bit as if to make herself less present.
She didn't speak to him as the soldiers dispersed, instead silently accompanying him back to Riverwood. She stayed the night at the inn, and was gone the next morning.