Najati was toying with her. Elenwen wasn't sure if she should consider herself lucky or insulted.
Already, she bore several cuts across her arms, legs, chest, back and face - yet they were all light, and had stopped bleeding just a few seconds after they'd been inflicted. Elenwen wasn't in any real pain to speak of - the cuts stung occasionally, but were otherwise fine.
And yet, for all the play Najati was employing, she was denying Elenwen the right to actually strike back. She seemed to dance around the ring of Thalmor soldiers, evading the spells Elenwen threw at her, and dodging the former First Ambassador's novice-level dagger swings. While Elenwen bore cuts, Najati had been untouched since the fight had begun.
Najati flipped her right dagger in her hand, grinning wildly. It was hard to tell what the Khajiit was thinking, but Elenwen was fairly certain it had to do with her being killed in as brutal and gruesome a manner as the Khajiit could possibly manage to create. Elenwen, in contrast, readied a Firebolt spell, determined to try and hit Najati at least once.
"Don't bother," the Khajiit said. They'd been the first words she'd spoken since she'd launched into her offensive against Elenwen.
Elenwen was about to retort, but found the building statement give way to a cry of pain; Najati's right dagger had buried itself in the former First Ambassador's palm, drawing a fair amount of blood and causing her to lose focus with the spell. The flames faltered, then were extinguished altogether.
Then, the dagger was withdrawn from her palm, and the razor-sharp edge was pressed against her neck.
"Shall I cut your throat now?" Najati sneered, face close enough that it could be construed as intimate; her voice was a low whisper only Elenwen could hear. "Or do you want to suffer some more?"
Elenwen didn't dare speak; she was afraid that trying to do so would cause the blade to actually cut her throat.
"I'll take the silence to mean you want more suffering," the Khajiit jeered; she withdrew her blade from Elenwen's neck and instead slashed it across her right wrist.
Elenwen knew this cut was more serious than the others thus far; as she glanced at it, she noticed that the Khajiit had cut far deeper and drawn far more blood than she had with the other slashes or thrusts. All she could do was clutch at the wound, to try and stop the bleeding.
"You're open," Najati jeered, all but dancing around Elenwen now. Strike after strike peppered Elenwen's figure now, her sharp ebony daggers piercing her skin in a series of random thrusts. One at her back, one upon her right breast, one at her stomach, one that seemed as if it had struck her spine just hard enough to be agonizing... there was no discriminating where her daggers hit, as long as they hit.
When Najati seemed to tire of it, she stood back and admired her work. "This is a better look for you. Covered in blood, clothes practically in tatters... definitely fitting for the First... pardon, former First Ambassador." She closed the distance between them again, and in the first display of pure savagery, buried both daggers in Elenwen's gut.
Her lips brushed Elenwen's ears for a moment, and made the mer wonder wildly what was going on.
"He plans to kill me," Najati whispered into her ear. "I'm no fool. My only regret before dying would be not killing you; he wishes to grant me that, so I may die without regrets. What I haven't told him yet, however, is that once you're done, I plan to kill him next... and then the rest of his little group." She twisted both daggers in Elenwen's gut, causing her to cough up blood; both of the mer's hands tried to clutch at the injury, but couldn't get past the blades still buried there. "Your death was guaranteed anyway; he likely had plans to kill you himself, if that cover story of his is any indicator. Would you rather die at my hand, or his?"
Elenwen wanted to respond, but didn't dare. She was worried she'd give away Najati's true plan in some way if she did.
The Khajiit finally pulled her daggers from Elenwen's stomach, and planted a foot in a fierce, unrestrained kick upon the injury. The pain that shot through Elenwen now was excrutiating, and made her all but scream in agony as she collapsed onto her side.
"Is she done?" Thellias asked.
"Not yet, but she'll die on her own. I've decided to let her bleed out." The Khajiit flicked her daggers from side to side, causing the mer's blood to slip off the blades with each motion. "She'll need a master healer and a miracle to survive now."
Elenwen was fully aware of her surroundings still. The pain was subsiding to a very faintly tolerable degree, and she hadn't died yet... no doubt she would, as Najati said... but she would at least get to see whether Thellias or Najati perished first.
"Well done. Perhaps you'd be interested in serving me, to strike where I am not able?" Thellias' voice sounded genuine. Was Najati sure that he was planning to kill her, with an offer like that?
"Sorry, but I'm not for hire. And besides..." Najati moved as fast as lightning, and had her dagger aimed at his head in what seemed like a split-second.
He proved rather agile for one so old, Elenwen noticed; he had lifted his helmet to knock the dagger aside, and wore a smug look.
"Ah. So that was your plan."
In the time it took Najati to take a couple steps back, Thellias had drawn his sword and pointed it at her.
"Last chance to accept my offer."
"Oh, get over yourself," Najati snarled. "You planned to kill me either way when I was through with Elenwen; you just thought to make me think otherwise with that little offer."
"Fine, I won't deny it. After all, your actual body will make the cover story all the more believable when Alinor sees it."
Elenwen had mixed feelings as Thellias ignored Najati's strike and pierced the Khajiit's chest with his sword, running her through the heart with ease. On the one hand, she felt glad that Najati had gotten what was coming to her... but on the other, Thellias had survived - again. She wondered if he'd ever die, and give her the right to rest in peace.
A cry bordering on hysterical sounded from behind Elenwen, and was followed by the unmistakable crackle of flames. The crackling grew louder, and Elenwen could only imagine what was happening.
Then, a massive fiery explosion engulfed just about everyone present, Elenwen included. The flames licked at her body, burned her wounds and unharmed areas alike. The pain returned a thousand fold, and was too much for Elenwen to remain conscious.
Too much.
It was too much to take.
Being forced to watch her mother die in front of her... watching Elenwen fall to the traitorous Najati... Runael could contain herself no longer, and wouldn't be contained any longer, either.
The soldiers had bound her wrists with rope; that hadn't stopped her from managing to cast a simple Flames spell to burn the rope away while Thellias had impaled Najati upon his blade. With their attention turned to him, she was free to, as subtly as she could, channel a Firestorm spell through her hands, without all of the usual movements.
To say the results were catastrophic was an understatement. Every tent on the ridge was ablaze; almost every soldier in the area was on fire; cries of pain and agony filled the air as many tried to put themselves out.
Runael had eyes for only one, though. The mer clad in ebony, who seemed more amused by - and uncomfortable within - the inferno she had created.
"So... even Runael has hidden power," Thellias mocked. He wrenched his blade from Najati's chest, waited for her to collapse to the ground, then kicked her dying body away from him with an ebony-clad boot. "Perhaps she'd like to put that power to-"
His words were interrupted as she etched a rune of frost magic into the ground just in front of him - the very outer edge of it just barely beneath his boot. The contact was enough: the rune exploded in a blast of frost, encasing his armor in a layer of ice that didn't serve to immobilize him, but it did seem to slow him down.
"You have taken Elenwen from me," she growled. A moment later, a massive bolt of fire flew toward Thellias, engulfing his armor and catching it aflame for a brief duration; he looked uncomfortable as the heat sweltered his body.
"Najati took-"
She interrupted him by blasting him with what seemed to be a veritable whirlwind of ice. The frost magic battered him, chilled his armor to unbearably cold temperatures, made worse by the whipping wind, and knocked him off-balance; soon, he was down on one knee, though it wasn't because he was in pain.
"And you swayed her to do so!" Runael cried out. Sparks crackled at her fingertips now, and she channeled a fearsome blast of shock magic upon his armor; she allowed herself the tiniest of grim smiles as she heard him make a few noises of pain.
Eventually, though, she felt her nearly limitless magicka reserves start to empty out, and broke her concentration so as to preserve her power and recover.
By the time he'd gotten to his feet again, he certainly looked exhausted, if not injured. Even so, he held his blade firmly, and advanced slowly on Runael. "And you betrayed the Dominion," he snarled. "Which of us is more at fault, within the realm of law?"
"To Oblivion with your damned laws!" Runael screamed at the top of her lungs. For the first time in what felt like forever, she calmed her mind by force, and in so doing, permitted her magicka to replenish itself rapidly; she was fully aware of the golden glow upon her otherwise green eyes, and knew Thellias could see it too.
"Ah... 'Highborn', is it?" he mused. "Can you finish me with our birth right, though, for as long as-"
A massive, localized blizzard enveloped him then, cutting him off. She followed this up with spell after spell: fire, frost, and shock, all in varying degrees of intensity and power, bombarded the Vindicator while the blizzard persisted. As soon as it was through, he was blasted with another just like it, and the repetition of spellwork was gone through once more.
By the time Runael's birth right had faded, and her magicka ceased to replenish so rapidly as to enable such rapid spellcasting, he was on his back. She couldn't tell if he was alive or dead, but sorely hoped for the latter. If he had somehow survived all of that, she was through; she didn't have the power to bombard him with much more.
"Close..." he coughed. Her heart sank; while he sounded very injured, he was still alive. "Almost... died there..." He held up his left hand - enabling Runael to see the golden sphere glowing in his palm, and hear the faint, benevolent chiming sound that accompanied it. "Without that ward, I may well have died..."
She slumped to her knees, feeling defeated. Wards. Of course. They weren't all that difficult to maintain, even under pressure - and while she had bombarded him with shock spells, she'd spaced them apart far enough that he could have regained magicka of his own for the ward.
"Had I known... that this would be the price... I'd have ordered you wrapped in chains..." he said between violent coughs. "Still... all that for her...?"
"Not just Elenwen," Runael whispered. "Mother was killed, as well. Murdered. Right in front of me."
"Ah." His own tone sounded sorrowful now. "Anasteria... gods, how I'm going to miss you..." He tried to stand, but collapsed once more. "Did she ever tell-"
"You're not my father," she interrupted.
He managed a chuckle, though that quickly turned into a violent cough. "No. Vernanye has that, ah... 'honor'." He again tried to move, this time to just sit up even slightly. "Family seems... to be a big thing for yours... Vernanye lied to me about you... all to protect you from me, and from Dominion justice... Anasteria worried about both of you, and couldn't believe the news... that you two had defected, or otherwise been absent without leave... and now, you channeled all the pain of your loss into that assault..."
She didn't respond. She already knew how this was going to end. He would get up, bind her in chains, and bring her, Najati's body, and Elenwen's body to Alinor. She would be executed, he would be hailed as a hero, and none would know the truth of what had happened - how he had worked with Najati for a brief while, how he'd passed judgment on Elenwen's life.
She tried to resign herself to the fate that awaited her, but couldn't accept it. It was wrong. Even as she heard his slow and heavy footfalls approaching her, she tried to will herself to run away, but couldn't bring herself to move.
An ebony-clad hand reached out to her - not to seize, but to...
"Here."
She looked up slowly, confused - and saw the soft expression upon his face. "What...?"
"By all rights, you defeated me. Anasteria has died; every soldier she brought with her has perished; the blockade is destroyed." He sighed softly. "The Aldmeri Dominion's presence in Skyrim has likely been eliminated altogether. I've no doubt the priest sent his comrades to destroy the Embassy; it seems like something he'd do. Even if I tried to bring you in, you would have more sympathizers than I all the way to Solitude; I've no doubt someone would kill me, weakened as I am, en route."
"So... what are you saying...?"
"I surrender." His words were simple, but the meaning was profound.
She stared at his eyes, then at the outstretched hand. She reached up tentatively, placed her hand in his, and gasped as he pulled her to her feet carefully.
"All I ask is that you let me... 'retire' in peace," he said. "I ought not have been sent here in the first place. To be honest... my own loyalties to the Dominion wavered when they plucked retirement from me for this mess. I left it in my apprentice's hands, and only took over in earnest but recently when my apprentice proved to be an utter failure." He released Runael's hand once she was steady on her feet.
"You lost... but you want something," she said with the faintest of chuckles. "Typically, the loser doesn't get-"
"I know, but grant me that, and you will have my cooperation in anything and everything you, the victor, ask of me."
On the one hand, she wanted to deny it to him. It had been because of him that Elenwen was likely dead, because of his scheming. It was on his orders that her mother had been sent, effectively, to her death.
And yet, was he really at fault?
"I do have terms of surrender for you," she finally said. "Agree to all of them, and I will let you simply... 'slip away from Tamriel'."
By the time Mia and Adalla arrived at the Thalmor camp, they only got to see the smoldering ruin of the tents, the countless bodies of the soldiers surrounding them, and the corpse of Najati with a fatal wound through her chest.
Mia whistled softly. "Who ya think did-"
"Runael," Adalla murmured. "She is the Arch-Mage... such destruction in such a short time... it's not beyond her, I suppose. But what could have triggered such a catastrophe...? Her mother's death weighed heavily on her mind, yes, but if she snapped..."
"It were somethin' else," Mia finished. "And somethin' serious. It'd help if we could see where she and Elenwen are at..."
The two looked at each other, then at the scene. With a heavy sigh, the pair began to sort through the ruined camp, searching for signs of Runael or Elenwen.
As they searched, it became increasingly evident to Adalla that a certain foe was nowhere to be seen. Had Thellias survived? Had he, despite the destruction caused by Runael, managed to defeat her, and was taking her to the Embassy? She bit her lower lip nervously. No. He'd have been spotted on the road. Besides, she seriously doubted even his ebony armor would protect him from such vicious displays of magical prowess.
As she shifted one soldier's body, she jumped to find the soldier's arm move, and heard a groan. Her eyes went wide as his opened, and he looked up at her in confusion. "Wha-" she tammered, backing away from him slowly.
"You're... not one... of us..." he coughed out. "Why... are you in our camp...?"
"I..." Adalla had no idea how to respond. Had he merely been unconscious, then?
Were any of these soldiers actually dead? What if they were all simply unconscious? What if they were all going to start waking up, burned from that explosive fire, yet still very much so alive?
As if it were a cue, several more soldiers near Adalla began to stir. She backed up, mortified at the thought that she and Mia may yet have a fight on their hands... assuming hostility. She cried out as she backed into someone, but felt a reassuring hand slip into her own for but a moment; it was Mia.
"Then yer seein' what I saw," Mia murmured behind her. "They ain't dead, excludin' Najati. I kinda figured that might be the case, the more I got lookin'..."
Adalla cast a glance over her shoulder at Mia, then at the soldiers who were on their feet, staring at the two women in confusion - and in some cases, hostility. "Seems like..."
"Aye. They ain't too bright, I gotta say that, but least we know what they're gonna do."
They waited for the first soldier to lunge weakly at them before springing into action themselves.
Two months.
It had been two months since Runael had devastated the Thalmor camp southeast of Windhelm, had defeated Thellias, and had accepted his surrender. She hadn't seen Mia or Adalla since then, and she found herself oddly content with that, for the time being.
She hadn't seen anyone outside of the College, for that matter, save for couriers with messages for her.
As the newest apprentices - by this point, they'd been at the College for two months - practiced what Tolfdir and Colette had taught them about 'safety measures when practicing magic', Runael simply sat in on a bench, tucked away from the rest of her colleagues, and watched. In her lap sat several letters that had been delivered to her specifically over the course of the past two months.
She couldn't help but chuckle as one apprentice's ward spell faltered, and he was met with a brief jolt from Tolfdir's Sparks spell; the Master Wizard, realizing what had happened, was swift to stop but a second after the ward had faltered, so the apprentice had received nothing more but a brief zap. She contemplated joining in herself, but at the same time, she just wanted to watch and let her colleagues do as they pleased.
Instead, she glanced down at the letters in her lap, and picked one up. She'd read them several times now, and for the most part, had their messages memorized - if not the exact wording. She unfolded the letter, and read it idly.
Arch-Mage Runael,
Thank you for sending that apprentice to Darkwater Crossing. I will admit, I still think your College is at fault for these bizarre 'anomalies' you described when we last spoke, but at least you're willing to clean up your own messes. Perhaps I speak too soon, however; is Winterhold still not in ruins?
In regards to your last letter, I must refuse your offer. Magic has its places, but the ranks of the Stormcloaks is not one such place. The only magic I trust within my ranks is that of healing, not of destruction and chaos.
We caught a Thalmor spy snooping around the docks of Windhelm. It seems as if they're trying to work their way back into Skyrim, but they will find a very frigid reception, both from the land and its people. I understand Solitude is turning away Thalmor ships, and that you had a part to play in that? Well done.
There is a matter I would have you look into personally, Arch-Mage. Wuunferth has been pestering me as of late about some odd 'magical resonance' or some nonsense, to the northwest of Windhelm. I fail to see why he's so concerned, as it's beyond our borders, but perhaps you might be interested in looking into it for me, so I may get Wuunferth to shut up? If so, I thank you in advance.
Respectfully,
-Ulfric Stormcloak
Jarl of Windhelm
High King of Skyrim
Ulfric. His trust had been hard won, but won in the end. He hadn't been too pleased to learn that she hadn't left Windhelm immediately, but seemed ready to forgive her simply on the basis that she dealt with the blockade. Even in writing, she could sense the condescending tone he took toward elves, and had learned that it was nothing personal against her; it was just who he was. She did find it funny that he referred to himself as the High King, however; the civil war still hadn't been resolved yet, and neither side had gained an advantage, either.
A yelp drew her attention to the apprentices, and she noticed that one of them was nursing what appeared to be a small burn. Tolfdir was shaking his head and likely muttering under his breath. The scene managed to draw an amused look to her eyes, and she looked down at another letter after Colette began to heal the burn.
Runael,
I know I'm probably the last person you'd been expecting a letter from, considering how we fought here and there. Rest assured, however, that I do consider you a friend all the same.
Things are back to normal in Whiterun, or almost, anyway. The statue of Talos is being reconstructed, but Heimskr insists that even the tiniest detail is off, and that Talos will be furious if the statue is wrong. I swear, he has enough devotion to the presumed Ninth of man to make up for the lack of faith other Nords may show.
Jarl Balgruuf has given me permission to leave Whiterun, if I so choose. I was thinking I may take him up on that. Would you approve of me visiting you at the College? I've heard the rumors that you've closed the College off to the public entirely, and aren't taking new apprentices anymore; whether it's true or not, I'm worried about you, and wouldn't mind seeing you again, to make sure you're taking care of yourself. Besides, I'm still an apprentice myself, correct?
Your friend,
-Irileth
The Dunmer had likely received Runael's reply already - and was probably en route to the College, even as she finished re-reading her letter. She'd never have imagined Irileth the type to actually worry about her, but found it... oddly refreshing. It had made her respect the Dunmer even more, and changed her opinion of her somewhat. She would never admit it openly to anyone, but she did enjoy Irileth's company in the past, and was hoping that, even if it was for a moment, she could forget her troubles in the present.
Another letter was picked up, unfolded, and its words scanned.
Runael,
Mia asked me to write this letter to you on her behalf; she worried you wouldn't be able to read it if she wrote it.
As we initially planned, Mia and I are headed to Solstheim in three weeks' time. Neither of us knows when we'll return - or even if we'll return at all, so dangerous is this business we face there - but she wanted me to let you know that she plans to... well, she wants me to write another letter to you for her when we return to Skyrim. She wants you to know where she is, so you don't think she's running away from you, or your vengeance.
That's where Mia's message ends, and my own begins.
What happened to you? You were nowhere to be found after Whiterun's forces set up camp. I know you're the one that devastated the Thalmor camp - only you could have unleashed so much fire in such a short time, and to such great effect - but you were missing. So was Thellias. What happened at the camp? Where did you go? Are you even going to reply to this letter and let me know you're okay?
I know I may not have shown it a lot at Windhelm, but I've always worried about you, Runael. You're my best friend, after all, and I hope I remain yours. I hope that one day, I see you again, and see that you're doing alright.
Yours,
-Adalla
P.S. - Mia wanted me to add that if we don't hear from you, I owe her five hundred septims for a ridiculous bet I didn't exactly agree to. I normally wouldn't have, but she was insistent and, even now, she's looking over my shoulder as I write.
Scrawled beneath the postscript...
Yu betr b ok, Runail.
P.S.S. - And that is why I wrote the letter for her.
The entire letter had brought a wistful smile to Runael's lips. It had taken her some time, but she'd forgiven Mia in her mind for doing what needed to be done. It hadn't been easy to accept - it still wasn't, in fact - but she recognized the necessity, and that she'd probably be dead if Mia hadn't killed Anasteria. She had sent a letter to Adalla, but the message was intended for both of them.
She had invited both of them to visit Winterhold when they returned from Solstheim. Runael had no question they would succeed in whatever it was they were doing there.
She looked down at the letters still in her lap, and decided to read just two more.
Runael,
I have to leave Skyrim. I can't explain, and I'm sorry. Even if I could, I doubt you'd understand.
I love you, sister, and do not forget that. I hope to see you again in the future, though I doubt that will be possible.
-Vernanye
The 'letter' had been more akin to a note, and had left Runael wondering where her older sister had gone. The Augur's warning from over two months ago came to mind once more, and she wondered whether Vernanye was telling the truth... or if she was lying to her, even then. She had sounded so sincere when she'd denied it... but did that mean she had been? She had tried speaking with the Augur about it, and while he had spoken with her, he refused to disclose any further information on the topic, much to her frustration. In retrospect, it was probably the only thing irritating her anymore - not so much whether Vernanye had lied to her or not as it was the fact that the Augur didn't give her a straight answer.
The final letter was one she truly hadn't been expecting to receive, but it had been... a source of immense relief for her when she'd read it the first time. Considering who it was from, it was probably her favorite letter of the group.
Runael,
Here is a copy of the letter I fabricated for Alinor. I think you will agree it is quite to your liking.
Also, I burned Elenwen's body as you requested. There was a ring on her person, in a box that I discovered before her body was cremated; I presumed it was meant for you, and have enclosed it as well.
As for me, I've heard that High Rock is lovely this time of year. If you ever need anything of me, send a letter addressed to Elsath of Wayrest. And for the love of all that is divine, do not ask me how I came up with that.
-Elsath
The note had been attached to the letter itself.
Sir,
By the time this letter reaches you, I may well be dead. Know that I died in service to the Dominion, and defended our ideals to the last.
In order to deal with a matter of traitors, I assumed control of Vindicator Anasteria's group of reinforcements one month and two weeks ago. To clarify, the reinforcements arrived on foot through the southern border of Skyrim due to a storm that would have capsized their ship.
The traitors in question were Runael and Vernanye, Vindicator Anasteria's daughters. The shock was great to me, but held no light to the shock it instilled in my fellow Vindicator. To take her mind off of it, I instead entrusted her with a series of tasks unrelated to the matter of dealing with the traitors directly.
To that effect, I ordered the reinforcements to establish a blockade around Windhelm, where the traitors were said to be hiding. The rumor was true, as we soon learned. We also soon learned that cornering them was probably a fatal mistake.
Before I continue, I must mention that despite her earlier ineptitude, former First Ambassador Elenwen proved instrumental in dealing with the traitors; apparently, she felt she had something to prove to not just I, but the rest of the Dominion. She played a direct part in the death of Runael, and an indirect part in the demise of Vernanye.
This was all a matter of self-defense, mind you. The traitors, rather than give themselves up willingly, decided to attack the blockade from within, alongside a couple typical Nord knuckle-draggers. They put up a considerable fight, and even despite familial bonds, killed Vindicator Anasteria. When they turned to the rest of us, Elenwen herself dealt the fatal blow to Runael, and paralyzed Vernanye long enough for me to attempt to capture the traitor for trial back in Alinor; she recovered from that, however, and lashed out at Elenwen with a formidable fire spell. As Elenwen herself was unable to fight back, I took it upon myself to try saving her life by cutting Vernanye's short. I was unsuccessful: Elenwen died to her wounds minutes later, despite my best efforts to heal her.
The traitors have been dealt with, but at high price: the Embassy was razed to the ground, and every reinforcement soldier sent from Alinor was killed by the Nords, incensed by the deaths of the traitors. The Nords have begun to deny Dominion ships entry into any of Skyrim's ports, and have tightened security at their borders to keep us out.
In short, it will be a miracle if this letter reaches you. I am trapped in Skyrim, and am being hunted by the Nords as the one responsible for the blockade, and the one responsible for orchestrating the fate of the traitors.
In what may well be my final days, I would ask that you honor Elenwen for her deeds in this matter, not condemn her for what she failed to accomplish prior; she did manage to locate the infiltrator in the end, and had plans to send him back to Alinor before she was killed.
May the Dominion reign supreme in the years to come, and may Skyrim again recognize our authority one day.
-Vindicator Thellias
She knew exactly how he'd come up with 'Elsath' - it was simply an anagram, two letters short, of his true name. Even so, she somehow knew the Thalmor had accepted his word for truth, and likely presumed he was dead by now.
The ring he had found adorned Runael's right ring finger. It had been far less elaborate than the ring she'd taken with her from Whiterun, but when she'd worn the ring Elenwen had on her body, she felt no shame whatsoever writing a letter to the one who had given her the other, and sending it back to him. She just hoped the ring actually reached his hands before the courier got greedy and stole it.
Elenwen... Runael ran her finger along the band of the ring. Despite her best efforts, combined with Thellias' efforts, the former First Ambassador had succumbed to her wounds not long after Thellias had surrendered. Runael was still fairly shaken up by the death of the one she loved, and was still grieving even now. She wasn't as sorrowful as she'd been a month ago - for example, she was able to smile again - but she knew she was still quite a ways away from actual recovery from the loss.
Things had settled down for Runael, all told, but she wasn't quite ready to settle into a peaceful - relatively, at that, considering her position as Arch-Mage - life. No... she was ready, but couldn't do it yet. She didn't want to forget...
But would Elenwen want her to grieve forever? Even Runael thought not.
She lifted her hand so she could examine the tight and elegant words engraved on the outer band, in the native language of the Altmer.
"The flames of passion burn brightest within you," she whispered in her native tongue. Elenwen had once told her the same thing, back during their first evening together at the Embassy. She had said that Runael had passion enough for both of them, and several more people as well. She'd even gone so far as to say that she had passion to share with other people - 'Just as long as you don't actually DO it,' she had added sternly.
At the time, Runael thought she'd understood... but now, reading the engraved words, she realized that it wasn't just the passion that comes with love that she was being complimented on. It had been her general passion - for love, certainly, but also for helping others, for magic, and for so much more - that Elenwen had spoken of, that day, and again with the ring.
She glanced down at the letters she'd read, then at the ones she hadn't read. She grouped them all up once more, and stood from the bench with a small stretch of her legs.
It was time for her to stoke the flames of her passion once more, to burn as brightly as she could for the sake of everyone near her.
And so, against her better judgment, she decided to step in and play a more direct part in the lessons being taught in the College, rather than simply watch. Perhaps, with time, her own flames of passion would ignite more flames of passion in others, and thus a figurative wildfire would burn forever, incapable of being extinguished, even by time itself.
A.N. - And so, Flames has come to its end. I thank you all for reading all the way through.
In the previous chapter, I had set up Runael so that she'd explode at the slightest provocation/trigger. So when that trigger is Elenwen's death? You saw the result of that.
Elenwen's death was something I'd contemplated long and hard before I even wrote this final chapter, and its three parts. Did I want her to die, and have that death enrage Runael? Did I want her to survive, and let the story have more than a 'bittersweet' ending? In the end, you see what I went for - and i went for it because it had the more profound impact, in my opinion. The death of not just one, but two loved ones - both indirectly caused by Thellias - more than shoved Runael over the edge, and allowed her to unleash the power she commands, without hesitation or reservation. Nothing makes someone more murderous than a desire for vengeance, or so I believe.
The letters at the end were my own way of writing out an 'epilogue' without actually WRITING an epilogue. I seriously contemplated just adding the letters and not having Runael sitting in the College, thinking about each one and whomever wrote them - or was mentioned in them - but obviously... well, yes, you know. Showing that Runael could move past her grief, somewhat, and progress toward the future once again was an important step, to me, for her development, and for the story's resolution. All in all, I'm satisfied with how this finale turned out.
I want to give a shout-out to those who read and reviewed, those with whom I've had some conversations with via IMs, as well. To BrunetteAuthorette99, TheGreatJabberyJamie, Tsar Bomba, Skelegirl, USTomcat, Haldir639, escatrequi and spicysujamma... thank you all for your reviews throughout the course of the story. To BrunetteAuthorette99, TheGreatJabberyJamie and escatrequi, I want to extend my warmest thanks for the conversations we've had via PMs. All of you reviewers are awesome, and I hope that here, at the end of Flames, I did not disappoint any of you.
The tale 'continues' (not truly, but in a sense) in the upcoming - and previously mentioned - 'I Am Dragonborn', in which we shift focus from Runael and Elenwen to Mia and Adalla. The duo's journey throughout Solstheim will be wrought with danger, obviously, but what doesn't kill you makes you stronger, right? Throughout IAD, Adalla (and you, the reader, of course!) will finally get to glimpse into Mia's mysterious past and origins. And, as mentioned before, expect to see another familiar face (possibly two!) from 'Flames' in IAD, too... though I will say this right now, it is NOT a good thing for the heroines in IAD.
In addition to IAD, I will also be writing and publishing a story I've decided to name 'All In'. It explores a particularly riveting 'what if' revolving around Vex of the Thieves Guild, and another OC of mine. To put it simply, haven't you wondered why you HAVE to go through the Thieves Guild if you want to be a successful thief in Skyrim? (Excluding those people who have Speech skills high enough to put a point in Fence, of course!) This story, while still in its rough stages (the second chapter is in the works, and I may look at the first chapter again before I publish it to the site), will explore that particular scenario. Laughter and tears abound, as well as relief, anger and... love?! (Maybe, just maybe...)
Now, onto non-story related stuff.
I think my 360 controller is dying. It's several years old, so it wouldn't surprise me; last night, while I was playing Skyrim, my controller (which I use to play Skyrim on the PC because convenient and easier to deal with than a mouse) decided it wasn't going to be responsive to anything. I unplugged it and plugged it back in, and it worked fine... for a few seconds. It became an ongoing problem, and there were times when I would plug it in, but the green circle in the middle wouldn't even light up. I'm thinking it's something to do with the cord, but I have no idea what exactly I'd need to do to get it to stop being so fussy. As it stands, I'm thinking a new controller might be necessary; I should probably test it on my 360 first, though, to make sure it's actually the controller, and not, say, my computer itself.
I've been thinking I might make 'Let's Play' videos of Skyrim - more specifically, mods. And to specify further, adventuring mods - to the tune of Falskaar, Spectraverse, Dwemertech, etc. etc. etc. Of course, I'm only going to do this once I've either sorted out the controller, or gotten used to the mouse and keyboard again, but it's still an idea nonetheless. The problem with this idea is that... I have no idea if it's actually something I want to 'commit' to. There are only so many mods that provide new lands/quests; not everyone creates a new questing mod each week, either. If I specify questing/new land mods, I'll eventually run out; if I go too broad with the mods, though, I might also feel overwhelmed at times. (I have entertained the notion of doing a full-on 'Let's Play' of various Bethesda-released content (main storyline, Dawnguard, Dragonborn, guild quests, etc.) with Requiem active, which has become steadily more agreeable with me of late; it's still not perfect, but the first night trying to play Skyrim with it active - and the utter chaos that ensued - has all but faded into obscurity in the back of my mind.) I'm not sure yet. I'll see what happens in life, and whether or not I can find the drive to give it a shot.
I will not be posting the first chapter of IAD/All In this week. Next Monday, I will be posting both chapters; this gives me time not only to relax for a bit and think of new and innovative ideas for both stories, it also allows me to go over what I've written so far for both of them, and add/remove things accordingly. Trust me, I am anxious to post them now, but I don't want to overload people with new stories/chapters. ;)
Until IAD and All In, dear readers/reviewers! Hope to see familiar faces on one story or the other - maybe even both?
-Spiritslayer