"How did it get so late so soon? It's night before it's afternoon. December is here before it's June. My goodness how the time has flewn. How did it get so late so soon?" ― Dr. Seuss
Disclaimer - I do not own Skyrim, its characters, or anything else related. Bethesda does.
The scholar's lips curved into a smile as she nodded while speaking, "A secret trip to Valenwood? Now, that is more like what I would have expected from the High King."
"How so?" she couldn't help but ask the question, the words springing from her lips before she could restrain them. Comfort could be found in hearing others speak of her beloved, and she would not deny herself the opportunity.
"During my studies, I would often read stories dedicated to how wily and brash he was—traits that many believe made him a successful king with a very long reign, and an equally lengthy list of enemies."
She felt her lips shift into a small smile, an involuntary response to the description of her late husband. "Ulfric was a determined man, and he often made snap decisions, which are an inevitable by-product of being a good ruler. But even mistakes made in haste were often softened or erased by his ability to think ahead, to scheme for every possible outcome. He was often two steps ahead of those enemies, and always at least three steps ahead of his wife..."
Lokir laughed loudly before catching herself, slipping her hand over her mouth in chagrin. Smiling, she chided, "It's okay, Lokir. We came to terms, and I intend to keep my word."
"I'm sorry, it's just…" She paused, the scholar's eyebrows scrunching together in consternation, "You are so unlike what I imagined."
"And what was that, exactly?" she shrugged, taking a sip from her mug before continuing, "A bully who somehow managed to corral the mighty Ulfric Stormcloak? Some Bosmer harlot who dug her claws into the High King and rode him for all she could?"
"Please...I never said or wrote such garbage."
Their chuckles echoed together throughout the room, before Lokir continued, "I'd like to think that my criticism of you was based more on cold, hard facts than some tawdy tavern gossip."
"It was, and it is precisely for that reason that I have you here now."
Lokir narrowed her eyes and straightened her spine, postures she recognized as defensive after years of dealing with the idiocy of court. "I simply have the tenacity that others lack, the conviction to record what I see as the absolute truth without care for repercussions."
"That's an awful fancy way of saying that you've got huge brass balls."
Lokir looked absolutely mortified, and she tsked, rolling her eyes. "If you learn nothing else from our time together, be it this one thing, girl. There are many powerful men in Skyrim, and sadly, most are simple-minded louts who think a woman's place is on her back. They will say whatever they can to run off a female with a tongue and half a brain, because they fear her. Don't let vulgar and unimportant words do it for them."
The scholar's voice hesitated, sounding petulant, "It's nothing I haven't heard before. I just didn't expect it to come out of the Queen's mouth…"
"More proof that you need to know me better, Lokir."
The scholar nodded, smirking, "Then, I will endeavor to do just that."
ᛃᛃᛃᛃᛃᛃᛃᛃᛃᛃᛃᛃᛃᛃᛃᛃᛃᛃᛃᛃᛃᛃᛃᛃᛃᛃᛃᛃᛃᛃ
The coward ran, and they chased him. Barely able to catch her breath, she could make out the grunts of exertion coming from Eralos as they flew down corridors that were somewhat familiar. She had personally staked out most of them just a few nights ago, their twists and turns still fresh in her mind. She had been confident that if things turned bad for the Thalmor, their leaders would flee like the sniveling weasels they were, while leaving their troops to die or surrender. So, she had planned accordingly by splitting her men into groups where each had been tasked to target a specific member of the Thalmor council, while accepting any white flags they were offered. In her mind, the problem with the Council was their leadership, not the soldiers who were simply following orders.
The clashing of blade upon blade reverberated throughout the halls, and she could only hope that the rest of the army was faring well. Her group had received a decent amount of defectors, but losses were mounting, and breaching the mighty limbs of Falinesti had probably cost her at least two hundred men. It was a dear price to pay, but success was in sight, if they all just pushed a little more.
Rounding a turn, she stopped abruptly, almost colliding into Eralos' back. The hallway had opened into an arch that led into a stable of sorts. Several wagons sat abandoned with a few horses scattered about, ones that whinnied in anxiety as they appeared, and she noticed that the large doors that led outside were still barred. A dead end was very fitting considering the circumstances.
"Show yourself, Iauron. Your magic cannot save you now, and if you come out, I promise you a quick and merciful death."
His voice came from the far corner, and she pulled her blades, waiting, "Many have tried before and all have failed. Why should you and your meddlesome ways succeed now?"
"Because your time is up. The Mer of Valenwood long for change, and they have finally seen through the empty promises of the Thalmor."
The Councilman stood proudly as he moved from behind a nondescript crate, trying to look defiant, "And who will lead them? Some foreign-born interloper with little respect for or knowledge of our ways…"
Before she could respond, Eralos did so, "No. I will show my people what true leadership is by hearing their pleas and responding to their needs, unlike you and your pathetic Council."
Iauron laughed, "You bark on command very well, just like a subservient little dog."
Moving forward, she barely managed to get a restraining arm in front of her ally as he growled. She met the mage's stare, "You obviously underestimate Eralos, and you know nothing of me. I have no desire to rule Valenwood, and your stupidity will make it that much easier for us to silence you…permanently."
His evil laugh caused a chill to run up her spine―no one would ever accuse this Mer of playing with a full deck of cards. "Lies! I know more of you than you suspect, Feren, Queen of Skyrim."
Focusing, she barely managed to keep her eyes on their target, but she could hear with clarity the confusion and anger in Eralos' voice, "What!? Speak true, Iauron! Or I will cut out your tongue!"
"Oh, but I do, Eralos. The Council is inundated with innuendo and hearsay on a daily basis, most of which is based in fantasy. But, every once in a while, my underlings will bring a rumor to my ear that is almost too convenient and unbelievable to be ignored. The other members of the Council thought me mad, after all, Ulfric Stormcloak is a well-known bigot. But, I didn't need their validation, and their ignorance has cost them dearly. Yes, tell him Queen Feren...tell him what you are really doing in Valenwood."
"I fight to rid my homeland of filth like you!"
Eralos charged before she could react, hurtling towards their enemy, and for a split second, she saw a bluish arc, clearly the boundary of a ward. He hovered in midair, frozen with mouth open and sword half-swung.
"A foolish move. But he is just a distraction at this moment."
She watched the mage motion with his left hand, and almost immediately realized an advantage. His right limb was hanging oddly, unmoving against his side. A small, crazy smile formed on Iauron's lips as he spoke, "Yes, yes...such a good eye for detail. Your reputation precedes you, as I was told that you would make a formidable opponent. Unfortunately, one of your minions was skilled enough with his sword to harm me. 'Tis a shame that I had to kill him for his tenacity."
Hissing, she took a step forward, but managed to stop herself at the last minute, Eralos' motionless form reminding her that wounded animals are often the most deadly. "I will make you pay for his life, and for every single other that you have taken."
"As much as I would enjoy the challenge, I recognize when I am at a disadvantage," he motioned towards his lame hand with the good one. "What if I instead propose an alternative. My life in trade for something that you will find very precious."
"You have nothing that I need, want, or desire. I learned long ago not to bargain with crazy."
"Crazy, is it? I prefer to think of myself as ambitious, but to each their own definition. I will admit that only the maddest amongst us spellcrafters would be skilled enough to achieve magic that offers immortality."
Her eyes widened, but she tried to play coy. "I will already live hundreds of years, Iauron. I have no interest in more than that."
"Convenient then, that I am not speaking of you. The problem with getting involved with a human is that their pathetic lives are terribly short."
Her stomach roiled and her arms trembled, as she realized that one of her own kind had finally discovered her true weakness. She frowned, trying to retain her composure. Iauron smirked, "You are not the first Mer to follow down that short-sighted path, and unfortunately, you won't be the last. Such an easy dilemma to avoid, and yet you fools can't seem to help yourselves."
Her brain could barely fathom the possibility of an extended time with Ulfric, and just the chance, no matter how remote, made her heart pound in her chest. She wanted that, wanted it so badly. At the most, they had a few dozen years together―a puny fraction of her total lifespan. The temptation to give in, to barter the life of the slimeball standing before her for more years with her sun and stars, was immense. But, she knew, in the end, what her husband would want her to do, and it gave her the strength and determination she needed. "If you deal with the devil, you only get burned. There will be no bargain."
"Think of Ulfric! Wouldn't he enjoy hundreds of years with his dutiful wife? You would doom him to mere decades, when you could easily grant him centuries?"
"The man that I love would never accept adding to his life in exchange for yours, Iauron. He would rather the Bosmer feast in victory on your Thalmor hide than live extended years indebted to a lunatic and his magic."
A disgustingly smug grin appeared on Iauron's face. "A pity that he will not get to see the celebration. After all, I'm sure he awaits in Windhelm for his triumphant Queen's return."
"It is a shame," she stumbled on the words, as his unnerving smile continued unabated by talk of his own downfall. A sour ache formed in her stomach―a warning, but she knew not for what.
"It was a very wise decision on his part to stay safe in his country. The roads between our kingdoms have been very dangerous as of late," he voice was sarcastic, almost cloying. "In fact, a Skyrim-bound caravan was ambushed recently while crossing the border with Cyrodiil, surely heading for the Gold Road. It was led by one Galmar Stone-Fist. I'm sure you know him well from your time with the Nords."
Her pulse raced at the mention, and she involuntarily shook her head. Acrid, the smell of singed flesh filled her memory, and in her mind's eye, she watched in horror as the Blue Palace in Solitude fell and burned, over and over, toppling down like her heart in her stomach. She denied even the possibility in a whisper, "No…"
Trembling with panic and rage, she refused to look away from his glare as he crowed, "There were no survivors."
A maniacal cackling filled her ears, and she realized that somehow the bastard knew. All the care, two long years of abstinence while pining for her husband, and one simple, seemingly innocent rendezvous had betrayed them. In a stumble of over-enjoyment, Iauron lurched on his feet, and it was all the diversion she needed. Lunging forward, her feet danced across the floor like it was made of tree limbs, and she lept in the air, snarling as she brought both blades down into flesh. The mage screamed as her weapons pierced him, one in the shoulder, the other buried deep between his ribs.
Smiling, she found his eyes. "Die, Iauron. The Bosmer and Valenwood will be free!"
He gargled incoherently as blood poured from his mouth. Coughing and spitting, he returned her grin as his voice cracked, "If I go, you Nord-bedding whore, you will go with me."
Everything blurred, turning white with an explosion of blinding heat that fried every nerve in every limb, and she shrieked, the sound piercing her own eardrums. Heavy, no part of her body would respond to her as the hilts of her weapons branded her palms. She frantically tried to get away, but she was unable to escape the searing fire she felt. Pain swam in her vision, and she convulsed violently, her teeth tearing through her tongue.
Falling, the sickening crunch of bone shattering against stone barely registered, as Eralos' face floated in jarring blackness that consumed her until nothing else remained.