Brynjar rose early, finding Ciri still asleep and hogging the small fur blanket. He squirmed a little to ease the uncomfortableness of the cramped bed, where Ciri was sleeping on his chest. She stirred and smiled up at him.
"Up so early?" She asked.
"Just trying to get comfortable. I never realized how shitty these beds are until I had to share one."
"And I never realized that you could work such wonders with your tongue," Ciri flirted. "Who taught you that anyways?"
Brynjar smirked. "No one. Just instinct, really. And experience." Ciri scoffed and turned to get up, when Brynjar remembered the small tattoo he'd glimpsed on the inside of her thigh. "The rose tattoo… what made you get that?"
Ciri looked shaken for a moment. "Yes, the rose. I got it when I was young, for a woman I loved very much, someone who's gone now."
Brynjar sat up, now intrigued. "A woman you said? Was she… your lover?"
Ciri nodded as she dressed. "Mhm. For a while."
Brynjar was somewhat confused for a moment. "Wait. So… you like women…and men?"
Ciri grew a bit frustrated at having to explain. "Yes, Bryn. Is that so hard to understand?"
Brynjar shook his head. "Did she do the same thing I did? With her mouth, I mean," Ciri shook her head. "But how did-," Brynjar was cut off by a glare that definitely meant to drop the subject. He stared at Ciri for a while, becoming slightly entertained at the image of a naked Ciri kissing another woman. He wondered if Aela would enjoy being with another woman. For a brief moment, he wondered what it would be like to be with another man. He had wondered before, when he was a teenager. He shook the thought away when Ciri threw his undergarments at him.
"Get dressed Smart One. We should leave sooner rather than later." Ciri walked out, closing the door behind her. Brynjar rushed to dress, fastening his armor and double checking his sword. He walked out of the room, nodding to the innkeeper before exiting, where Ciri was readying the horses. The air was surprisingly chilly for mid-spring.
"Cool outside. You don't think the Wild Hunt will show their faces now, do you?" Brynjar asked as they mounted up.
Ciri shook her head. "No. Not after you humiliated one of their generals, Caranthir. They'll think twice about trying again." Ciri wrapped the fur cloak around herself. The two rode silently for hours, allowing Ciri to take in the beautiful landscape. Something about the craggy hills and sparse forest reminded her of Mistle, her first lover. The vibrant sun and the rippling grass made her think about Triss, made her wonder what she was up to nowadays. Ciri wondered if she would ever return to her home again, ever laugh and drink with Geralt, ever have long ponderous conversations with Yennefer. She needed to know if anyone in Tamriel had the ability to get her home.
"Do you happen to know any powerful mages? You mentioned you studied at a magic academy. Anyone you know that's well studied?"
Brynjar turned to her, breaking out of distraction. "Yes, I do. For one, myself. I was the top student in Alteration, Illusion, and Destruction magic. I still remember quite a few tricks," Ciri smiled as Brynjar levitated a bottle of mead from the saddlebags and floated it towards him. He smirked as he opened the bottle and drank.
"Not you, silly. Someone well practiced and very powerful."
Brynjar sighed. "Fine. I know a couple of wizards and mages at the College, but I don't think they'll be able to help much. I also know some Telvanni wizards, some of the oldest and most powerful mages in Tamriel. They're well experienced in all types of magic. And then there's….," Brynjar stopped for a moment, hesitating to continue.
Ciri urged him to continue. "And what? Tell me Bryn."
He hesitated again. "Then there's the Psijic Order. They are so powerful that they can stop time on a whim and even move their island."
Ciri perked up at hearing this. She was eager to know more.
Brynjar stopped her before then. "I can't assure you they'll help you. The only time I've ever seen one was when they contacted me personally. Complicated issue that, but it's not important. I know they exist, but I don't know where or if I can find them again."
"I see," Ciri sighed, slightly disappointed. As the sun began to set, they crossed a bridge across a raging river shaped like a dragon's head. At the other side was a medium sized village, a tad larger than Rorikstead.
"Dragonbridge," Brynjar said. "We're almost there, about 30 minutes away now."
Ciri nodded. She'd spotted a large palace on a bluff likely overlooking the sea. "Wanna race? If you beat me, I'll let you share my bed again." She smirked.
"Really now? I should warn you, I-," Brynjar was cut off by the sound of Ciri kicking her horse into a gallop.
"Hope you can catch me before I grow old!" She shouted over the wind.
Brynjar kicked his own mount into a furious gallop to catch up to her. He sped up and led by almost a yard when he grew bold. "Careful Ciri! Hope you manage better in the saddle than you did last night!" He chuckled. Ciri grunted in determination as she pushed her mount harder, coming neck and neck with Brynjar. They stopped right in front of the gates, where armed guards stood vigil.
Brynjar dismounted and smirked at Ciri. "Well looks like a tie, huh? Not bad, I'm mildly surprised you didn't fall off." Ciri jumped down and playfully lunged at him. Brynjar laughed as he went tumbling to the ground, Ciri carelessly swatting at his face, also laughing. He managed to grab her hands and hold them, with some effort, and attempted to kiss her before one of the guards intervened.
"Whoa now. Save that for the bedroom, travelers. Get up and state your business here."
Ciri and Brynjar halted their shenanigans and stood up, dusting off dirt. "Ahem, right. I am Legate Brynjar Snow-Hammer, Dragonborn, and this is my companion, Ciri." He pulled out the letter to show the guard.
"Ah I see. You're expected, the King's waiting. Go on in, your horses will be taken care of."
Ciri playfully pushed past Brynjar into the city. The streets were clearing as people retreated into their homes for the night. The fires of streetlamps were lit and guards began patrolling with torches, watching every move suspiciously. Ciri followed Brynjar down the stone paved streets towards the Blue Palace, until he turned and turned over a flowerpot to find a key.
"What are you doing? We're already late," Ciri scolded.
Brynjar unlocked the door to the house. "I know, but I can't go in there like this," He gestured to his bulky, sweaty armor. "I won't take too long, wait here." Ciri rolled her eyes as she stood out in front of the large house seemingly owned by Brynjar. She wondered how he'd managed the money to pay for a place this large. Within 15 minutes, Brynjar came out of the house, dressed in fine clothes with a thick fur cloak draped on his shoulders. He held up a silver circlet with a diamond embedded in the center.
"What's that?" Ciri asked.
Brynjar smiled. "Remember when you told me you're technically a queen? Well, every queen deserves a crown so here you are." He placed the circlet on Ciri's head and admired how well it went with her hair. She smiled at him then tugged at his arm.
"Come on, we're already late." The two made their way to the Blue Palace, which was essentially surrounded by guards. One, in Imperial armor, stopped them before reaching the door.
"Halt. The palace isn't open to the public as of now," The soldier barked.
Brynjar handed him the letter, hoping the soldier could read decently. The guard promptly handed him back the letter and moved from the door, holding it open for Brynjar and Ciri. The two walked into what was clearly the throne room and walked up the stairs to see the King's steward waiting for them.
"Dragonborn, right? Thank Talos, it sure took you bloody long enough," Falk Firebeard scolded as he led them to the council room. "The High King is an impatient man; he was going to send a whole legion looking for you, you know? Next time try showing up on time."
Brynjar struggled not to punch Falk in the face right then. Instead he took a deep breath and walked in the room without a word. At a long wooden table sat High King Balgruuf and General Tarquinius, along with General Tulius and Legate Rikke. Balgruuf stood, the Jagged Crown weighing down on his head.
"Dragonborn. About time, kept us waiting for nearly an hour," Balgruuf gripped Brynjar's hand and firmly shook it. "Who's your guest?"
"This is Ciri, my good friend and…lover." Brynjar noticed Tarquinius' smirk before sitting down next to him.
"Just friends?" Tarquinius whispered. "Ha, nice try."
Balgruuf frowned. "You trust this outsider? This is a sensitive matter, you know."
"I do, with my life."
Ciri sat down next to Brynjar. "And besides, sometimes an outsider's opinion might be useful."
Balgruuf sighed and sat back down at the head of the table. "Fine then. Let's get started, so we can work out a plan. General Tarquinius, you know more about this than any of us, so tell us what your brother has planned so far."
Tarquinius cleared his throat. "As of right now, the Emperor bides his time. Last month, at the Elder Council meeting, the Emperor tore up the Concordant right in front of the Thalmor Ambassadors. That meeting hardly ended without bloodshed, just the Dominion promising retribution."
"And have they? Done anything I mean," General Tulius asked.
"No. Ambassador Omindal, who holds a seat on the Council, seems convinced it was simply a mistimed show of frustration, and in turn, he's convinced the Dominion as well. Making this the perfect time to act, to gather forces and establish allies."
"That might be hard, our soldiers took a beating in the war," Legate Rikke added.
"Yes, but now we'll have the remnants of the Stormcloak troops and they'll definitely want to fight the Thalmor."
Ciri chimed in. "Key word there: remnants. I doubt whatever's left of them will make much of a difference."
"Ciri's right," Brynjar added. "If we hope to even challenge the Dominion, we need High Rock, Hammerfell, Morrowind, and potentially Black Marsh."
Balgruuf sat in silence, clearly perplexed by the issue. After a few moments, he finally spoke. "They're right. Skyrim can only muster half the forces the other provinces can."
"And there might be an opportunity to bring Valenwood into the fold soon," The table turned to Tarquinius, anticipating the news. "Reports there tell of a revolt stirring, a secret organization plotting to rebel against Thalmor rule. If we offer support, they might agree to fight under the Empire."
"So tell us what we must do, General."
"It's simple: gather your soldiers. Forge weapons, charge taxes to collect money, take stock of farm and mine production. But try not to warn the Thalmor, the last thing we need is a surprise attack from them. If you need support, send a courier by horse, one of your own," Tarquinius paused to look at Brynjar. "The Emperor has a special task for you. He has chosen you as Chief Ambassador, which means you will offer his terms to Hammerfell, High Rock, and Morrowind."
Brynjar was overly surprised. It took him a moment to find his words. "I, uh… I'm honored by the position. I shall do my best to fulfill it." Ciri smiled at Brynjar with approval.
"Good. Then this meeting is over," High King Balgruuf announced. "Tulius, send Rikke out to all the holds to tally the numbers at first light tomorrow. Discreetly, might I add, don't want to inform those Altmer bastards of our plans."
"Yes Your Majesty. Rikke," Tulius affirmed and left the room with Legate Rikke, returning to Castle Dour.
"Dragonborn, you and your guest are welcome to stay here for the night if you wish."
Brynjar and Ciri stood. "No thank you, Your Majesty. I own a house in the city." He bowed slightly and went out the Palace with Ciri right behind him.
They walked down the dim streets to Brynjar's mansion, Proudspire. As soon as they walked in, he built a fire in the large fireplace. He turned to Ciri, who had made herself completely at home by raiding the kitchen cabinets.
"Hungry? I could make some stew or a meat pie," Brynjar offered. He sliced himself some cheddar cheese and opened a bottle of wine.
"What are they like? Hammerfell and the others, I mean," Ciri asked, handing him her goblet for wine.
"I only know what I've heard, I haven't been to any of those places. Hammerfell is a large desert land, High Rock is like The Reach here in Skyrim, and Morrowind is like…well an ashy hell, basically."
"You don't sound too thrilled," Ciri commented, taking a sip of the wine.
"No, I am very excited really. Just…tired, need a good bed to sleep in," Brynjar smiled wearily at Ciri. "And I have the perfect idea to help me sleep." He stood up and walked towards Ciri, reaching to undo her shirt. She slapped his hand away.
"Nice try, but not tonight, not after that stunt you pulled this evening." Ciri smirked and disappeared up the stairs to the guest bedroom.
Brynjar scoffed. "What? Ciri, come on!" He followed her up the stairs to find her undressing with the door wide open. She stopped at her undergarments, showing off her curves and perky breasts.
"See what you're missing? I reckon you'll think about that next time, won't you?" Ciri teased. She slammed the door in his face and proceeded to fall into the downy bed. Brynjar went into his own room, undressing and leaving on his pants, and went to sleep very sexually frustrated.