It was on one chilly autumn morning, little over a year since the start of the war, that Aredhel awoke to find Radolmar standing at the foot of her bed – the older elf had an off-putting look to him at all times, but the slight smile on his lips only made him look even more despicable now. "Pleasant dreams?" he asked calmly. His eyes had an unwelcome hungry cast to them.
Aredhel sat up slowly. Haughtily. She made no move to cover herself or quail from his presence; instead she fixed him with a disdainful stare and focused her energy on appearing as frigid as possible. "Master Radolmar," she intoned smoothly. "What is it that brings you to my humble quarters at this hour?"
"A most impertinent question," Radolmar answered sharply. "I am free to come and go as I please. As your superior, there is no aspect of your life that is hidden from me." He seemed to calm then, buckling down on his hubris and emitting a stuffy sigh. "There is a matter that requires your attention. You will dress and accompany me to the Great Hall. Someone of notable import wishes to speak with you."
"I will dress myself alone," Aredhel said more forcefully when Radolmar did not leave. She stared at him pointedly until he finally gave a displeased grunt and exited her quarters. She immediately got to her feet and locked the door behind him. What a deplorable old worm, she thought as she turned to her dresser. He harasses none of the others in this manner. I wonder when I shall ever have the chance to punish him for his insolence.
Radolmar was a great asset to the Thalmor projects here in the citadel, but oh, how she wanted to beat him into a pulp. Even the other masters seemed to regard Radolmar with a degree of dislike, though it never colored their dialogue with him or their reactions. It was little hints, sideways glances and cold looks from afar. Aredhel had an eye for the little details. She also had no patience for lecherous old elves who fancied themselves too important to afford basic decency.
She paused to gaze upon her reflection in the mirror before donning her robes. Long gone was the little girl who had come to this fortress in chains; in her place was a grown woman, a tall and lithe creature whose scars were hard-won and whose physique was that of a trained warrior. Her hair hung past her shoulders now, gathered into a single braid. Once she finished fastening her robes the image of an ideal Altmer was complete. It was an image that pleased her greatly to behold.
One that surely pleases Radolmar to behold as well, she thought as her lip curled. But it is not for him. Let him agonize over what he will never claim.
The walk to the Great Hall took her through the library, where several of her peers were studying aged tomes and scrolls, and through the gardens, where floating orbs of magelight shone down on an assortment of colorful Alinorean plants. Long gone were the days of being too fatigued and desperate to appreciate the beauty of elven architecture; Aredhel now took time to admire the curves and arches of the citadel's inner chambers as she passed through.
Radolmar stalked alongside her but he was surprisingly silent. His hood obscured much of his face now, a vast improvement over being subjected to his scowl in her opinion. Once he had seemed larger than life, but now he appeared slight and hunched. Almost as short as a human or lesser mer, Aredhel thought, and she suppressed a wicked smile. Someday I shall tell him that and savor the look on his face.
When they reached the Great Hall, Aredhel merely had to wave her hand and the doors parted by the command of her spell. This was the same chamber where her destiny had been laid before her so many years ago. The sensation of deja vu washed over her as she approached the center of the room, where two hooded Thalmor agents waited. These Altmer were strangers here, Aredhel realized; she had never seen them before in her life.
She gave an obligatory bow before addressing the guests. "I welcome you to this great sanctuary and offer you my hospitality. I, Initiate Aredhel, am at your disposal."
"How very quaint," one of the agents remarked. The woman lowered her hood, revealing a delicate but fierce visage and hair as white as snow. The woman's bright green eyes were as striking as they were piercing. "Your hospitality is much appreciated, Initiate. I am Overseer Ithilie. I have been taking note of the progress made here for many, many years now and I must say, I am... intrigued by your record in particular. It is not often that an asset of your particular talents surfaces in these instances."
"Thank you, Overseer," Aredhel answered politely.
"Feh. These indoctrination programs are an unseemly venture. One can only hope the results will justify the barbarism instigated here," the other agent sniffed. He kept his hood up and crossed his arms as if offended. "I am Overseer Feranco. And unlike my colleague here, it will take much more than a few petty victories in glorified schoolyard brawls to impress me. Do keep that in mind."
"What my colleague means to say is that you will now have the opportunity to prove yourself not only outside of these walls, but beyond the borders of Alinor as well," Ithilie said quickly. "Under our supervision, of course. But this is the start of a new chapter in your life. As soon as you gather your effects, you are to travel with us to Hammerfell. I understand if this comes as a shock to you, but do try to adjust. I hereby name you no longer Initiate, but Justiciar, sanctioned defender of the Aldmeri Dominion. I hope that we will accomplish much together in the days ahead."
Aredhel's heartbeat sped up as she processed Ithilie's words. Justiciar. It was a word she had come to regard with a sense of reverence, a title that embodied the height of skill. None of the other initiates had achieved such a title yet, and it nearly stunned her that she was the one picked to ascend. There were surely stronger candidates than herself, more intelligent, candidates more gifted in magic... yet she alone had earned the honor of being first. An unexpected outcome, but after the initial shock passed she realized it felt right. It took considerable effort to keep her face impassive as she bowed wordlessly in response.
"We will be waiting here once you are ready," Feranco stated. "But do not tarry long. Our time is short."
When she turned to head for her quarters, she caught sight of Radolmar's face. He had kept quiet for the duration of the conversation but now he looked somewhat stricken. Good, she thought as she walked past him with her gaze fixed straight ahead, barely acknowledging his presence. Let him seethe.
Except he did not remain with their guests, choosing instead to match her pace and follow her back the way they had come. Aredhel chose not to confront him immediately and set her jaw as she continued to walk as if nothing was wrong. As much as she wanted to turn around and swat him for the annoyance, curiosity drove her to bait him and learn what exactly his intentions were.
As soon as she reached the doorway to her room, she stopped and, without turning to face him, let out a deep sigh. "What is it you want?" she demanded wearily, hands at her sides. "I know you did not come to help me pack."
"I knew this day would come soon," Radolmar muttered. He stepped in closer and Aredhel turned halfway to look at him, taking in his posture and expression, both of which were thoroughly frustrated. "How long has it been? Eleven, twelve years? You've done quite a bit of growing up. I suppose it's only natural you'd leave."
"Is there a point to this, or are you simply going to dither about how unfair it is that the Dominion is depriving you of your favorite toy?" Aredhel spat coldly.
Radolmar's eyes widened. "How dare you," he hissed. "You incorrigible, hateful child. I've given you everything you require to succeed and still you refuse to show the slightest bit of gratitude. I could have had you killed, you know. Don't think you stand here today as a result of your own merit, you dirty creature."
"You are addressing a Justiciar of the Aldmeri Dominion," Aredhel stated, more than a hint of warning in her tone. "Now leave me be. I refuse to take up more of the Overseers' valuable time dealing with this nonsense."
"A Justiciar in name only," Radolmar retorted. "You are but newly minted, while I have spent several of your lifetimes ensuring the Aldmeri Dominion thrives. I have allies in circles you will never reach and resources you can never hope to attain. What are you but an investment I've cultivated? Do consider your true position in the grand scheme of things, my dear."
Aredhel froze as his gloved hand grasped her shoulder. It was a gentle touch, but she knew full well the sentiment behind it was anything but gentle. It was revolting and she wanted nothing more than to set the man on fire, but there was an inconvenient truth in his words: he was too well-connected for her to deal with inconsequentially.
You belong to the Aldmeri Dominion. His words echoed in her mind's eye, words spoken all those years ago, but now she understood their true meaning. You belong to me.
"What is it you want?" Aredhel asked a second time, teeth clenched.
Radolmar pushed her into her room. The door shut behind them and locked at his magical command. "I know things about you no one else ever will," Radolmar gloated. "You're quite the riddle, but knowledge alone will not satisfy. I wish to know every inch of you. Every hidden aspect, every lurking secret. Every profane urge," he purred, and his hand traveled up to her jawline. His thumb brushed her chin and the giddy look in his eyes sickened her; his was the excitement of someone desecrating something sacred. "My little dragon. There is only one thing I want. A taste..."
"I would sooner kiss a Sload," Aredhel told him.
Radolmar made an exasperated noise. If anything, her resistance only made him appear more excited. "I built you up from nothing and I can easily reduce you to nothing," he sneered as the fingers on her jaw tightened their grip. "Never forget that. My word is absolute here, while yours? You have no word. Regardless of skill, you are but a tool. Even an... exquisite tool may be discarded..."
As he inched in closer, Aredhel felt the warmth of his breath as he spoke and a sensation of pure and utter revulsion coursed through her. But hadn't it always been this way? Ever since their first meeting as teacher and pupil – master and slave – Radolmar had been unusually preoccupied with her, even though there were plenty of other initiates and she demonstrated no desire to form any sort of bond with him. Watching her while she slept, studying her as she sparred, always staring, always ogling... it was wrong.
Stripped of identity and free will. Beaten and broken, then forged anew for a purpose. But I am not a tool. I have – Aredhel swallowed hard, her heartbeat increasing as she fought to control her rising panic. Pride, she told herself, eyes narrowing as she scowled and met Radolmar's gaze.
"What I have is my pride and that is entirely of my own making." Aredhel reached out and pushed Radolmar away with both hands. "Nothing you do to me will ever deprive me of it, not even death itself. I survived this place because I willed myself to do so. You are no more responsible for my success than I am for the sun's rising and setting."
"Pride," Radolmar scoffed, stepping toward her again. "Don't think I haven't figured you out by now. I know what it is you crave, what it is that drives you. You want recognition, influence, authority. Power. I possess such power... it is yours if you but concede to my request. Such a small price to pay for so vast a reward..."
His agitation and desperation were pushing him to bargain. Aredhel might have laughed, had her position not been so humiliating. The older elf's fingers had moved to her shoulders and he was close now, so disgustingly close that she had to lean back to avoid pressing against him. She thought of the two Overseers waiting for her in the Great Hall and decided that further argument with this man was not worth the risk of offending them by taking too long. She let out a small sigh and her shoulders relaxed slightly, a movement intended to convey a sense of relenting.
"What power," she half-whispered, "could you possibly offer me that I cannot take for myself?"
He was too focused on her face, too taken by the proximity of her body to notice her left and right hands charging with the glow of summoned magicka. The few seconds it took for his expression to darken at her words were all she needed. Aredhel brought her left leg up, her knee striking Radolmar in the crotch, then as he staggered back gasping she hit him with her spell. Instantly he stiffened and froze in place, then toppled over and hit the floor with a thud. His eyes darted this way and that helplessly as the Paralysis spell immobilized him.
Aredhel looked down at him through half-lidded eyes, holding back not a single ounce of her contempt. "As soon as the spell lifts you may return to your duties unimpeded. Consider this an act of mercy; I could have done far worse, but as you said, you're too well-connected for me to harm. I hope that we shall never see each other again." She grabbed her satchel and pulled another set of robes from her dresser, then stepped over Radolmar as she headed for the door. "Try to prove that I attacked you, if you must, but I will spare no resource of mine ensuring somebody hears of your conduct towards me. Mark my words: I will ruin you should you threaten me. This I swear on my life."
Venom laced her words as she spoke. She realized she was trembling ever so slightly and steeled herself; she unlocked the door and exited quickly, shutting it behind her so no one would notice the fallen Radolmar. She jogged to the Great Hall, eager to leave this place and its inhabitants behind. She couldn't help fearing what Radolmar might do in retaliation, despite her bravado; usually she didn't think twice about attacking a threat, but hitting him with that spell had taken more courage that she thought would ever be necessary.
As soon as she saw Ithilie and Feranco waiting for her, she felt a surge of relief. "Took you long enough," Feranco snapped. "Now hurry up. A carriage awaits us by the gates and I'll have to pay the driver extra for his time."
"You look pale," Ithilie murmured as the three of them walked out of the Great Hall. "It is surely difficult to leave this place you've called home for most of your life. But I encourage you to turn your thoughts toward the future and the promise it holds. We will do great things, I can assure you."
"Thank you, Overseer." Aredhel fixed her eyes straight ahead and watched as the tall doors opened, letting in sunlight and the smell of fresh air. The light momentarily blinded her and she turned that light inwards, allowing it to purge all thoughts of Radolmar away much like a sunbeam sent cockroaches scuttling into shadows. "But this place was never home, not really. I know that now." The portcullis rattled and groaned as it rose to allow them passage underneath and they made their way over the drawbridge; she could see the carriage waiting up ahead. Alinor lay beyond, along with the rest of the world. Perhaps once the vastness might have been intimidating, but now it only tantalized.
I'm free, she thought. But freedom was such a petty sentiment; what she felt was far more complex. She knew in her heart that no one else could ever understand exactly how she felt, because it was a sensation that went much deeper than the allegory of a bird spreading its wings to fly. But there are more dangerous things than birds with wings, a little voice whispered in the back of her mind. An uncaged bird takes to the sky and counts itself blessed for the opportunity. Such creatures must always strive for their place in the heavens. What you feel is not a wish, but the call of birthright.
As she stepped over the invisible boundary that marked the castle perimeter, she decided then and there that never again would she set foot inside those walls as long as she lived.