Jarl Balgruuf leaned forward in his throne, listening intently as his court wizard recounted the atrocities he had witnessed within the Thalmor compound. He could hear Dagny and Frothar running and playing in the war room, shouting with carefree innocence, while Farengar described the sick child he had healed within the Thalmor dungeon. His knuckles turned white as his grip tightened. The sound of steel on steel rang through his mind, tantalizingly real, as he longed to take up his sword and taste Thalmor blood.
As Farengar fell silent, Proventus jumped in.
"My lord," the flustered Imperial implored, watching the Jarl nervously, "We mustn't be rash."
"I will not sit idly by while the Thalmor torture and slaughter my people!" the Jarl said, his voice rising louder until he was shouting.
Proventus licked his lips, sweating under his angry gaze.
"Yes, but this is a delicate matter. If we send troops against the Thalmor, you'll-"
"Be committing an act of war against the Empire!" Balgruuf finished with a roar. "And what would you have me do?! Nothing?"
"No," Proventus said hurriedly. "But this matter might be better handled by the General. If Tullius finds a solution, Whiterun won't be a target for both the Thalmor and the Empire."
Farengar leveled a glare at Proventus with the full weight of his loathing. Proventus always wanted to play it safe, everyone else be damned. He had never hated his cowardice more than at that moment.
"Please," Proventus entreated, "Shouldn't we at least speak with the General before committing the hold to an act of war, my lord?
The Jarl said nothing, his face intent with consideration.
Farengar's hands tightened into fists. The jarl only hesitated when he was about to choose a course he didn't want to.
The door to Dragonsreach opened, interrupting the tension in the room.
Jarl Balgruuf lifted his head, nodding to the visitor.
Farengar glanced over his shoulder and, after seeing the Dragonborn, returned his gaze back to the jarl.
Therion walked up beside the wizard, dressed simply in a white shirt, the slacks of his armor, and his Akaviri dai-katana at his waist. He glanced at the wizard who was firmly ignoring him. Not that it looked any different from how Farengar normally acted.
"Dragonborn," the jarl greeted him, "It seems Farengar was able to find you then. We've been discussing other matters at present."
"I imagine so," Therion said, glancing at the strained expressions of the court. "It's a pleasure to be back in Dragonsreach. It's only been a week, but it feels like ages since I was here last."
The jarl smiled.
"We certainly saw a lot more of you on your last visit," he said good-naturedly, referring to Therion's infamous half-naked departure.
Therion smiled back.
"I'm glad you remember," he said, receiving several confused looks.
Moving his hands to his collar, Therion slowly undid the buttons of his shirt, eliciting a gasp from Proventus at his impropriety.
The Imperial stammered something unintelligible, as Therion withdrew his arms from the sleeves of his shirt, letting it fall around his waist, where it was tucked into his leather leggings.
He suppressed a shiver as he stood bare chested for all eyes to see in the Great Hall. The flickering torches cast enough heat for a Nord, but not nearly enough for an Altmer, let alone a half dressed mer.
Ondolemar had done a good job on the scars, if the looks he was receiving were any indication. He bitterly missed his body being unmarred, but pushed the thought out of his mind as soon as it surfaced. He had no place for regret in his life. Besides, scars were sexy. He could make do.
He wondered if that thought would have made Ondolemar laugh at his vanity, and wondered how his cousin was doing, somewhere out there, in an increasingly volatile Skyrim.
"As you can see, some things have changed since we saw each other last," Therion said.
"Th-this is highly inappropriate!" Proventus stammered.
"I agree," Therion said darkly. "As we speak, there are Nords chained in dungeons, who look," he swept a hand across his gruesome torso, "Like this. And worse. I think something ought to be done about it. Don't you, my lord?"
"But the Empire-!" Proventus began.
"Is busy looking for a new Emperor, perhaps even one with a pulse," Therion snapped, losing his temper, his words reverberating with his thu'um.
Proventus shrank back a step.
"I can assure you as an Imperial Legate, General Tullius won't dare hold Whiterun accountable for taking up arms against the Thalmor. And even if the Empire dared turn its back on this hold, I would show them the gross error of their ways."
His amber eyes were dark with promise.
"Enough," Jarl Balgruuf said. "Irileth, gather your men," he said, rising from his throne. "We're going hunting for Thalmor."
"Yes, my lord," Irileth said, her face stern as ever, but a smile alight in her red eyes.
"As it happens," Therion said in feigned casual interest, "I've come across a number of Thalmor camps in my travels. Most on the way to Solitude, where I hear the moot is being held. Perhaps I might escort the Jarl and his court to their destination?"
A slow smile spread across the Jarl's face.
"Of course. We couldn't refuse the escort of Whiterun's most accomplished Thane," Balgruuf said.
"And should the Thalmor mistake us for bandits, we would of course, regrettably, be forced to defend ourselves. And free any Nords held captive in their camps," Therion said with feigned innocence. "And once we reach Solitude, perhaps we could pay the Thalmor Headquarters a little visit, for diplomatic reasons, before going to the moot."
"Two birds with one stone; kill some Thalmor and go to a boring meeting. Well, at least we'll have some fun while we're there. Let us discuss things further in the war room," Balgruuf said, grinning with the anticipation of battle.
"With pleasure," Therion said, replacing his shirt, his gold skin covered in goosebumps. He still hated the cold passionately. Balgruuf and Therion turned and headed up the stairs to the war room, while the court wizard departed in the opposite direction for his laboratory.
"It looks as though they did quite a number on you," the jarl said in a warm, sympathetic tone. "How long will it be until you recuperate?"
"Auriel only knows," the court wizard heard Therion say bitterly. "I'd be dead, if it weren't for Farengar. He saved my life."
"Really? He didn't mention it."
"Probably because he regrets it," Therion said with a jovial laugh, and Farengar could feel his gaze on his back as he left the Great Hall.