The Only Truth

by HrHLynxx

"I never wanted to be the Nord's hero. In fact, being their 'hero' is rather underwhelming. Where has my so called 'destiny' gotten me other than thrown into a cell to rot for all eternity?" Estoril is an eccentric ex-Thalmor Senior Officer bent on bringing glory to herself and the Aldmeri Dominion by any means necessary. ( Full summary inside!)

8. In which there are rude awakenings

Disclaimer:

I only own the plot and my original characters.

A/N:

Hey all, this is the last chapter of what I like to call part 1. The next three-ish chapters will be transitional.

Enjoy!

Previously:

Five years later, Estoril lives in the capital of Alinor, is a Wizard and Senior Officer of the Thalmor, and is still plagued by visions of her mother. One day while she is on a walk to the market to get her glass dagger polished, a nervous courier brings her a letter. It is from Master Sinyir, who inquires about her wellbeing and responds unfavorably to Estoril's requests for aid in her struggle against the insidious faction; The Beautiful. The Beautiful are a group of artisans who are terrorists bent on destroying monuments, and killing living symbols of Aldmeri culture ( nobles). They want to bring an end to all traditional practices. In his letter, Sinyir states that he will not send Junior officers to aid Estoril because he thinks their inexperience will hinder her efforts. This angers Estoril, who wanted any help she could get. The next day when Estoril is about to go to work, Ondolemar knocks on her door and asks to escort her to her office. He acts in an affectionate way that makes Estoril uncomfortable, so Estoril tells Ondolemar that he is like a brother to her - this visibly bothers him and he leaves. At her office, Estoril is given a lead for The Beautiful's stronghold. She is sent to prepare to investigate it with as many troops as she requires. The mission there - on Western Coridale - goes terribly wrong. Estoril and her troops are ambushed and everyone dies except for her and the Junior Officer who saved her. Estoril faints and has odd dreams of herself being underwater with an unfriendly Hesselle.

---

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Chapter 5 - In which there are rude awakenings

Alinor-Alinor (Summerset Isles)

Loredas, 28th Day of First Seed, 4E 195

###

"Are you sure? Are you absolutely certain?"

"Yes, she should. It has been eight days now."

I hear familiar and unfamiliar voices as I fall in and out of consciousness. Where am I? I cannot be sure that what I hear is real, or just voices in my head. But I hope. Oh, how I hope I will wake up soon.

But my eyelids are heavy and refuse to open for more than a few split seconds at a time.

I do not move. I do not speak. I do not blink. I endure.

"Estoril, are you waking up?"

I have found tranquility.

I want to speak but my throat feels scratchy.

"Priestess! I think she is waking up!"

I fall up. Up to the surface.

"Liaison Officer Ondolemar, I ask that you step back and allow me to handle this."

"Yes, of course, by all means."

I feel somebody forcing my mouth open, and pouring some kind of liquid down my throat. The taste is familiar and I assume that it is some kind of healing potion.

My eyes snap open.

I am not upside down. The world is.

My vision is very blurry, and I see two blobs- most likely faces- peering down at me.

"Senior Officer Estoril, can you hear me?" The blob on the right asks - it's voice feminine.

As I open my mouth to respond, my body is wracked with coughs. Some of the healing potion that did not go down all the way dribbles down my chin.

"I will take that as a yes," the feminine voice says.

Slowly, my vision clears. The owner of the feminine voice wears robes denoting that she is a Priestess. I cannot tell, however, to which of the Divines. On my left is Ondolemar- who smiles at me cautiously.

My second attempt at speech is successful." Where am I," I ask in a gravelly voice.

"You are in the Temple of Phynaster in Alinor," the Priestess responds promptly. "When you were brought to us... we were uncertain if we could save you. You suffered from numerous deep stab wounds in your back, and the rest of your body had undergone severe magical trauma. If that Junior Officer had not used a grand healing spell on you, you would have bled out and we would not be having this conversation right now."

Ah yes, Junior Officer Ocantar saved me.

I try to get up, but immediately realize I cannot, and not due to my atrophied condition, but because my arms and legs are chained to the bed I am lying in.

"What is the meaning of this!" I demand furiously. Well, as furiously as I can in my weakened state.

"Liaison Officer Ondolemar, make sure that your friend does not over-excite herself, it will do her no favors and slow down her recovery," the Priestess tersely instructs Ondolemar- completely ignoring my protests-and vacates the room.

" I will not be ignored! YOU WILL answer my questions! Why am I chained to this bed?! I demand you release me AT ONCE!" I shout and I thrash my body as much as the chains will allow. I try to summon any, and all of the Magicka I can to break myself free from the chains. But I find that there is no Magicka for me to summon. It is entirely depleted.

Suddenly, I feel a calm settle over me. My muscles relax and my body stills. White light swirls around me. Normally, I would be irritated with Ondolemar for using a spell to placate me, but right now I cannot bring myself to care. I feel so very peaceful...so peaceful...

Ondolemar wipes the sweat from my brow with a cool, wet towel. He appears pensive and looks like he wants to tell me something. He folds the towel and places it gingerly on the table by my bed.

Then he paces.

Back and forth, from one side of the room to the other. I watch him closely. Waiting for him to say what is on his mind. After what feels like an eternity he stops his pacing, and he stares at me long and hard.

"You are under suspicion of collaborating with The Beautiful," he states abruptly- his tone dull.

That was the last thing I had expected would come out of his mouth. Perhaps an awkward declaration of affection - considering the peculiarly sentimental overtones during our last meeting - never this. But my relief from escaping an uncomfortable situation is short lived as the implications of what Ondolemar said sinks in. I do not know what else to do- I laugh.

"Ah! You jest! Oh, Ondolemar! I can always trust you to know exactly how to lift my spirits!"

Then white light swirls around me, and I am mollified once more.

" I assure you, I am being entirely serious. This is not my idea of a good joke. You should know that," Ondolemar replies bitterly.

"Then there has been an atrocious mistake," I murmur, still under the effects of the calming spell.

"I know," he admits evenly. "I did not believe the accusations for even a moment."

Although Ondolemar's trust and loyalty pleases me, they do not make the accusations any less disturbing.

"Who was it that accused me of collaborating with The Beautiful, may I ask?" I question weakly- afraid to hear the answer while needing to hear it all the same.

"Your Commander, Fairndil, and Junior Officer Ocantar. But do not worry too much. The evidence is weak and ultimately inconclusive." Yet, Ondolemar's strained tone betrays that he is not as certain as he would like to be.

"Then why am I chained to this bed?" I fire back, unable to filter out a measure of whininess from my tone.

"For your own safety."

The look that I give him must be highly incredulous because he sighs and shakes his head.

"I suppose I should have known you would not understand-"

"What is there to understand!?" I cut Ondolemar off. The calming spell has worn off again. I am livid.

"Please settle down. You need to rest," he pleads, but I am beyond caring.

"Oh! Damn it all to Oblivion! I do not care! What does my health matter if I am to lead the rest of my life branded a traitor? I would rather die!"

Be careful what you wish for, my dear.

Not you too, mother! Just...Go away! Why don't you? I think loudly at the red-clad Altmer woman who has appeared at Ondolemar's side - unbeknownst to him. Yet, she does not disappear like I wish she would. Instead she laughs and shakes her head.

Like it or not, you need me, Estoril. Why else would I be here if you did not? And besides, what kind of a mother would it make me if I did not look after my own daughter?

"Hush now, I beg you." Ondolemar says, his voice pulling my attention away from my sneering mother. "You are chained like this because there are many who would wish you harm for what they think you have done. To appease them I needed to make it seem like you are being...contained."

Listen to him. He was right to do what he did. Since you are innocent, it would be best for you to remain safe and unharmed until your innocence is declared publicly. A few days of mild humiliation is worth a lifetime branded a traitor, isn't it? Or are you as blinded by your pride as your father is by his?

I open my mouth to protest, yet again, but I consider what Ondolemar has told me. And I reluctantly consider mother's stance on the matter as well. Although, I pointedly ignore the insulting jab she made at mine and my father's supposed 'blinding pride'. I concede that If I am indeed in such danger, then the measures that Ondolemar took to ensure my safety were necessary. Perhaps I should not be giving up hope so quickly. After all, I am innocent, surely The Thalmor Council will see that! So I decide to do what Ondolemar says.

"Now, do I need to cast the calming spell on you again, or are you going to listen to me and look after your own best interests?"

I swallow my pride and nod once- my eyes slits and trained on the door behind him.

"Excellent," he sighs, relief evident in his tone. "I will be appealing on your behalf to The Council tomorrow. Until then I suggest you rest and regain your strength. You will be needing it in the days to come."

Ondolemar gives me a somber smile which I do not return, and then he turns to leave. But he stops short at the door.

"Ah! I had nearly forgotten," he begins, and rummages around in one of his robe's pockets. "When my mother returned to the capital yesterday morning she told me to give you this letter. I have not opened it. She specified that it is for your eyes only."

What could this be about? I wonder. Well, there is only one way to find out. I manage to take the the letter out of Ondolemar's outstretched hand. Mercifully, the chains allow enough movement for me to sit up and read the letter. As I rip the letter's red seal open I hear the door slam shut. I look up to find that Ondolemar has left. I am alone.

Not quite.

Ah, right. Mother is still here. She now sits on the edge of the bed and peers eagerly at the letter I have just opened.

Well, go on. Don't mind me. Read it already!

I grumble, but do as she says. Not because she told me to, but because I was going to anyway.

Senior Officer Estoril,

I hope that your condition is improving. I was informed by my son that you had suffered wounds that were very nearly fatal. I pray to The Eight Divines that you will make a rapid, full recovery.

As far as the charges against you are concerned, I am confident that that business will all be sorted shortly. I am appalled that Commander Farindil would ever accuse you of treason. What happened on Western Coridale was a tragedy, but that does not necessarily mean that the one in charge of the operation was a traitor! Rest assured, you have my full support when this goes to trial.

However, your matters are not the main subject of this letter.I regret to inform you that I write to you today as a bearer of bad tidings.

On Morndas, the 22nd day of First Seed, Lady Arannelya was found dead in her vacation home in Sunhold. There is little doubt that she was murdered by The Beautiful. I am left once more lamenting over an Altmeri war hero being targeted and exterminated by terrorist organizations -yes, these are very sad times indeed. The Agents working on the case found traces of Jarrin Root and Deathbell in the wine that she had been imbibing. But perhaps the more disturbing revelation that was gleaned by the agents was a letter. A letter - found discarded, and most likely dropped by accident - that detailed a mer's wish for Lady Arannelya's demise. This letter was signed by your father, Lord Orthntur.

Now, Indeed, the possibility that somebody is trying to frame your father has come up in discussions amongst myself and members of The Council-albeit infrequently. However, when one takes into consideration that Lord Orthntur and Lady Arannelya were political opponents, it is entirely feasible that he would want her dead. Especially so when the animosity with which he conducted himself towards her is also accounted for. As you well know, your father is a very powerful man, and many - including myself - would not hold it above him to dispose of somebody he considered a threat. Your father's lack of popularity will also make it very difficult for his innocence to be proven. There are many within The Council that have not looked favorably upon your father for quite some time now -as evidenced by their decree that I periodically observe him.

Now, of course, Lord Orthntur was informed promptly of all I have just disclosed to you. The Council contacted him immediately, giving him the chance to come quietly into their custody and await his trial. I am sure you can imagine how favorably he took that. Lord Orthntur blatantly refused to comply. When I and a team of Soldiers attempted to bring him into our custody by force, we quickly discovered that he had raised several magical barriers around his estate's grounds. While I am loathe to commend your father for anything under the current circumstances, I will admit that he is quite gifted with protective / shielding spells. It took three of Cloudrest's best Wizards nearly five hours to break through them. Lord Orthntur is currently sequestered in one of the holding cells in Cloudrest's governmental buildings. He will be transported to Alinor by the end of the month to stand trial on Middas, the 1st day of Rain's Hand.

I know that this must be a lot for you to take in, and you have my sincerest sympathies. I hope, for your sake, that Lord Orthntur turns out to be innocent. You have been such a good friend to my son, and he is very fond of you, so allow me to suggest to you a way in which you might proceed. Have your trial held at the same time or close to the same time as his. That way you will be able to rally support for him. I do not know of anyone else who would speak on his behalf aside from, perhaps, your mother, Lady Taarmend. But she is still far, far away in Skyrim. I do not think word of this news will reach her in time for her to do anything. Frankly, I do not know how much influence you will be able to have over the trial's outcome - the odds are stacked disproportionately against your father - but it is worth trying.

Good luck and best wishes,

Altrada

I am trying very hard not to faint. To scream. To do something...embarrassing.

She is wrong, you know...

I shift my vacant gaze over to mother. She is grinning amusedly. Could she, perhaps, know something that would save father? Was Altrada lying? Or was she merely mistaken?

...I would not lift a finger to assist that bastard you call your father.

Normally I would snap at mother's tactless commentary - but I have no energy left to care. Besides, father was no bastard. His parents were married.

Then a chilling thought crosses my mind, and I am terrified.

"Mother," I begin shakily. I have to ask this, I just have to know.

Yes, dear?

"Am I going to die?" I hold my breath as I wait for her response.

Perhaps, dear.

I let out a sharp sigh of relief. Perhaps is not yes.

---

I have Ondolemar to thank for my current, fragile piece of mind. It was he that found a way for my trial to be held at the same time as father's. After I explained to him the current difficult ... predicament, he offered to help. Apparently he nagged one of his contacts in The Council for a favor, and now I find myself eternally grateful to him.

This morning I was finally let out of my pseudo prison cell in the temple of Phynaster. My wrists are raw from the chains, but it is better than having to still wear them. The Junior Officer and two Soldiers that escorted me out had not deigned to answer any of my questions - and I had many. This, of course, did a good job of inciting my temper. The nerve they had! They, who in any other situation would be my underlings! I told them as much, yet, they had merely proceeded to ignore me. And then it had occurred to me that I have to be compliant, and I became very quiet - very agreeable. One must do what they have to to survive. I had already decided that I would. I do not want to die.

I had been ushered into a covered carriage and was driven to The Thalmor Council's headquarters. As I had peered out the window during the drive, the sight that had assaulted my eyes thoroughly offended me. Most days I would have admired Alinor's mild weather. Most days I would have marveled at all the staggeringly tall, shimmering towers and buildings. But today is not 'most days'. So why had everything looked as it did any other day? Why is my distress not felt and reflected by those that I have fought the last five years for? How dare they all carry on as if nothing significant had happened!?

I now sit in an uncomfortable wooden chair at the far end of a ridiculously long white marble table. To my left is another white marble table where the twelve members of the jury made up of Altmer, Bosmer and Khajit are seated. They all sit facing me and away from the large stained glass window directly behind them. Some of them are scribbling furiously on parchment while others are reading, still others gaze off into the distance appearing bored. Father is next to me seated in an equally uncomfortable looking chair. His hair and robes are impeccable despite his recent imprisonment. It appears he was allowed to bathe, a luxury that I was not permitted. Yet, that he was able to coerce someone into allowing him to clean up is unsurprising.

He has not spoken a word to me, greeted me, or acknowledged my existence - but I do not blame him. The room's atmosphere is tense, and I know him well. Father has always dealt with stressful situations in one of two ways: Rage at whatever is causing his discomfort, or - if anger is not a suitable reaction for the circumstance - withdraw into himself and become silent and pensive. He is currently exemplifying the latter of the two.

We have been waiting here for ten minutes now, and I can tell that all this waiting is grating on father's frail nerves.

" Well, you have managed to drag me here - congratulations. So, where are they? Are those pompous ingrates too ashamed to show their faces? After all I have done for them - for the Aldmeri Dominion - and this is how they treat me? And as if that were not enough, they do not even have the decency to show up on time! " Father snaps at the two Soldiers standing on either side of the door behind us.

" I would hold my tongue if I were you, Lord Orthntur, you are in enough trouble as is. Talking poorly of The Council will do you no favors." Father glares at the Soldier who dared criticize him. His enraged expression morphs into one of disgust when he realizes that the Soldier is a Bosmer.

"What gives you the authority to talk to me that way you vertically challenged -" father starts, but I manage to cut him off before he can cause irreparable damage. We have to survive, after all. And he is not making helping him any easier.

" Please forgive my father, Soldier, he is not accustomed to his authority being contested, " I inwardly cringe as I say the words. I brace myself for the verbal assault father will bestow upon me...it never comes.

I glance over at father -surprised. It seems - for the very first time - he has nothing to say in response. His gaze is averted and looking at some point of interest off in the distance. His face is an unreadable mask. Perhaps he knows I am trying to help him? But I do not think I will never know for certain.

The Bosmer Soldier huffs "Is that so? Well, our Lord here is going to have to get used to being contested. What with him being a murderer."

I gulp nervously and glance sideways at father, but he seems to not be paying attention. I do not think he is here mentally anymore. Perhaps it is for the best. Whatever makes it easier for him to endure the humiliation of the current situation is best.

" The Council will arrive at three thirty," the other Soldier - an Altmer - states helpfully, "not a moment sooner or later."

Another twenty minutes later at half past three, the narrow, floor to ceiling door at the far right end of the room opens. In walk five of The Council members - three Altmer, a Bosmer and a Khajit - flanked by Altrada, Ondolemar and Junior Officer Ocantar. They all take their seats at the table. Ondolemar occupies the only other available seat next to me. He nods at me in greeting and gives me what I suppose he thinks is a comforting smile. It does little in the way of reassuring me, but at least it is something.

I scan the council members for any familiar faces. I recognize the Altmer council member that seats himself at the head of the table directly opposite to me. He wears the compulsory Thalmor robes, but also dons a cape, and each of his fingers are adorned with rings set with all manner of opulent gems. This stately mer seems like the sort that father would want to associate himself with. He must have attended several of father's parties back when I was a child.

"Now that we are all present," the mer at the head of the table begins once everybody has situated themselves - his voice loud and commanding in it's tone "shall the trial commence?"

The other council members murmur in unanimous agreement. I take in a deep breath and remind myself of what I have to do. Prove my innocence, prove father's innocence.

If he is indeed innocent...

My eyes dart around frantically at the sound of mother's voice, but she is nowhere to be seen. Still, I heard her. I just know I did. She has to be here somewhere! But I force myself to push all thoughts of my mother out of my mind.

I will not think about her. I will not think about her. I will not think about her. I need to focus.

So it begins.

"Let it be recorded that on Middas, the 1st day of Rain's Hand, 4E 195 the trial of The Aldmeri Dominion versus Lord Orthntur and Senior Officer Estoril took place," the stately mer proclaims and glares pointedly at another Altmer council member seated to his left. They take the hint and start jotting down everything that was just said on a scroll.

"We will begin by addressing the allegations made against Senior Officer Estoril," he continues. " As Commander Farindil was unable to make an appearance today, Junior Officer Ocantar will be reading the statement she has provided for us. Junior Officer Ocantar, if you will," the stately mer urges, and Junior Officer Ocantar rummages around in one of his pockets producing a scroll.

I do not look directly at Junior Officer Ocantar. I fear that if I do I will not be able to contain the sheer, burning hatred I now hold for him. The actions he is taking appear to be entirely nonsensical. I still have not been able to wrap my mind around why. Why did he accuse me of collaborating with The Beautiful? True, aside from him I was the last one standing following the incident on Western Coridale, and I was in charge of the whole operation. But he too survived. In fact, he was in better shape than I was. How did he manage to escape taking blame? I have been highly anticipating hearing how he had managed that.

Junior Officer Ocantar stands and unrolls the scroll. " Lord Arelmon, allow me to first express what a monumental privilege it is to be speaking here on behalf of the most honorable Commander Farindil."

And where is Commander Fairndil? What matter could have been more important for her to attend to than this? But I push aside those musings for another time. The present. I have to stay in the present. I have to do it to survive.

"Your gratitude has been noted, Junior Officer Ocantar - proceed," Lord Arelmon acknowledges evenly, but I notice him drum his ring-laden fingers on the table impatiently.

"Very well," Junior Officer Ocantar agrees, and then begins to dictate the statement:

"On Middas, the 18th day of First Seed, 4E 195, I, Commander Fairndil, head of Alinor's Counterterrorism Division, called Senior Officer Estoril to my office. I called her to inform her of a very promising lead I had received the night before, this lead concerned the whereabouts of what could have been a stronghold for The Beautiful. Senior Officer Estoril has been adept at rooting out and sequestering Agents of The Beautiful. So I assumed that she would be the most suitable to be put in charge of the operation, and in apprehending any Agents she found.

However, Senior Officer Estoril proved herself entirely incompetent. Managing to get her whole group -save for herself and Junior Officer Ocantar - killed. After doing a thorough background check on Junior Officer Ocantar and coming up with nothing that would suggest he could have ties with The Beautiful, I looked into Senior Officer Estoril's records and unearthed some disturbing findings. I was unable to find any filed reports of the interrogations she had conducted for captive Agents of The Beautiful. It is safe to assume she neglected procedure and did not write them at all. This is suspicious because she is generally very meticulous in her work. Why would she neglect this aspect of it? Is she trying to protect someone? It is safe to say, that in times as uncertain as these, such an infraction cannot be taken lightly and without suspicion. It is better to take the necessary precautions now than be sorry later." Junior Officer Ocantar finishes dictating and looks to Lord Arelmon expectantly.

"What about you, Junior Officer Ocantar, why do you beleive Senior Officer Estoril is guilty of treason? And do tell us what happened on that fateful afternoon on Western Coridale."

"Well, I agree with Commander Fairndil on all accounts. Senior Officer Estoril's failure to follow procedure is suspicious. Also, as far as I can tell, on Western Coridale she knowingly sent her troops into a trap. Her behaviour was overconfident, and while I initially supported it, I quickly realized it for what it was; irrationality or treason. I was fortunate to have packed with me a draught of prolonged invisibility, which I consumed to remain unseen and avoid major injury while I had stealthily attacked the Agents of The Beautiful," Junior Officer Ocantar declares - excluding a certain air of confidence that I find terribly unnerving.

"Thank you, Junior Officer Ocantar."

My mind is racing. This is why I am under suspicion of collaborating with The Beautiful? Perhaps Commander Fairndil has gone senile in her old age, because I do not see how this evidence denotes that I am a traitor! Although, I admit, she is not lying. I did not write any of those interrogation reports. I chose not to write them because I did not want them to get into the wrong late Lord Quarlas had no problem with it. And what was it that Junior Officer Ocantar said? Overconfident? Ha! I recall devising a solid plan of action before proceeding. A plan that he himself aided me with! I have done nothing wrong! I have done nothing wrong!

" Liaison Officer Ondolemar," Lord Arelmon begins, putting an abrupt halt to my panicked thoughts. " You are well acquainted with Senior Officer Estoril, are you not?"

"Yes, Lord Arelmon, I am. We were childhood friends," Ondolemar affirms.

" Then perhaps you can provide us with a testament. Tell us, would you consider Senior Officer Estoril loyal to the Thalmor and the Aldmeri Dominion?" Lord Arelmon inquires while leaning forward in his seat.

" Unflinchingly loyal. She is fervently traditional with a great love for Aldmeri customs. I do not think that whatever she did is enough to brand her a traitor. After hearing various accounts of what had happened on Western Coridale, it does not sound like she - or anybody else - could have done any better considering the circumstances," Ondolemar asserts.

"Allow me to add that I agree with my son on all accounts," Altrada chimes in. "I believe that the infraction of failing to write or file said paperwork is not enough to judge the validity of her loyalty. Senior Officer Estoril has time and time again exemplified what it means to be an excellent, dedicated member of the Thalmor. I have heard great things about her from the late Lord Quarlas. I recall him commenting on her dedication and trustworthiness regularly."

It pleases me that Altrada kept her word and is offering me her full support. Frankly, I have always shared some of father's negative sentiments towards her -although not to the same extent. What she is doing for me now has most definitely improved my opinion of her.

"Thank you Altrada, I value your opinion and will take it into consideration," Lord Arelmon muses. " Now, I, the jury and the rest of the council members would all be very interested to hear from the woman in question. Senior Officer Estoril, what do you have to say about the charges leveled against you?"

I bite the inside of my lower lip nervously. This is it. Now is not the time for my social anxiety to resurface. I have to say the right things. I have to say the right things to save my life.

"Honorable Lord Arelmon, Thalmor council members and jurors," I begin in what I hope is a strong, even tone. " I am deeply saddened by the tragedy that befell my fallen comrades on Western Coridale. The Beautiful are an insidious force that must be stopped at all costs. For the past year I have fought tirelessly against this force. Ask any of my colleagues - save, perhaps, for Junior Officer Ocantar and Commander Fairndil - and they will tell you no different. True, I have not written reports on the numerous interrogations I have conducted for captured members of The Beautiful. But I did not do this for treasonous motives. I was merely taking safety precautions. I have been well aware that The Beautiful have infiltrated the Thalmor. I did not want to make what little information we have collected about their Agents easily accessible to them. In fact, the late Lord Quarlas allowed me to omit this procedure. In regards to my presumed incompetence in battle, I can assure you that I had taken the necessary precautions. Regrettably, based off of the information that I was supplied with, I grossly underestimated the number of Soldiers and Officers that I needed to bring with me. I hope that you all will see past my failure and recognize that I have dedicated my life to the Aldmeri Dominion - thank you."

I sit down and pray to The Eight Divines that my little speech will do something in the way of improving my predicament.

"Thank you, Senior Officer Estoril. Rest assured, you have given us all much to think about," Lord Arelmon says - an expression of thoughtful consideration on his face.

The Khajit council member sitting next to Lord Arelmon leans in and whispers something in his ear. Lord Arelmon nods curtly and clears his throat. " We will now proceed with the next case concerning-"

The door behind me slams open.

And in struts what could be a Senior Officer or a council member. Once he reaches Lord Arelmon he begins to speak in a rapid, low voice. I only catch fragments of what he says. Words like problem, prohibited and mistake are are among the more audible. It is safe to say I am more than a little concerned.

Once the Senior Officer/ council member is done speaking, he moves to stand off to the side of the room as if he is waiting for something - or someone.

Once again, Lord Arelmon clears his throat and speaks. " My fellow council member, Lylved, has just informed me that there is one among us that does not belong - that is prohibited to participate in Lord Orthntur's trial," then his piercing gaze rests on me, " Senior Officer Estoril, you will be escorted out of this room by Lylved and will not return until the end of Lord Orthntur's trial."

Ondolemar is the first to protest, " Lord Arelmon, I have received council member Fiirron's express permission for Senior Officer Estoril to be present at her father's trial. Surely council member Lylved must be mistaken."

"Council member Fiirron is the one who was mistaken," Lylved corrects with a smug look on his face. " He never had the power to authorize Senior Officer Estoril's participation in her father's trial."

I look to Ondolemar and Altrada in sheer desperation. No! This cannot be happening! I cannot leave father to these vicious bureaucrats - slaughterfish hungry for his blood, his demise and utter humiliation. Ondolemar gazes back at me, and I can tell that he is feeling just as helpless as I am. Altrada betrays no emotion. But she had only promised to aid me - not father - I cannot expect her to care.

Finally I look to father. He looks back at me. And I can tell that he is really looking at me this time. His golden eyes lock onto mine and I see in them unfathomable depths of emotion that I cannot understand and have never seen him display before. Through my gaze I try to convey to him my desire to help. He needs to tell me what to do as he always has. I do not know what to do and I need him to order me around, bully me and demand me to obey him. I do not care. Anything to help him. Anything.

Father slowly shakes his head and I feel something shatter inside of me. I am not sure what. Father turns his gaze to his hands that are crossed one over the other on the white marble table - as if resigned to his decision.

I feel someone tap my shoulder, and my head whips around. Lylved's form towers over me.

"Do I need to have the Soldiers escort you out or are you capable of escorting yourself?"

I want to punch his smug face. But thankfully I am still capable of logical mental processes and not entirely clouded by rage - at least not yet.

I glance over at father once more. He is still staring intently at his hands and does not return my gaze.

I get up to follow Lylved out the door. My movements are stiff and reluctant. I glance over my shoulder more than a few times.

I am terrified.

I will not survive. I am going to die.

I have been pacing back and forth outside the room for well over two hours now. I have tried numerous times to eavesdrop, but it seems like there are spells preventing me from doing so.

Stop trying. You know it is useless.

Mother! Leave!

Mother smiles. The expression is full of saccharine sincerity and I hate it. She saunters over to where I am - leaning up against the door - and rests what I am sure she thinks is a comforting hand on my shoulder. It does little in the way of comforting me and I swat her hand away. She feigns an expression of hurt that I know is fake.

I am only trying to help. What with your father about to be convicted of murder... I am all you have left-

"Shut the fuck up you poisonous bitch!" It is only after I shout the words that I realize that I had articulated them out loud. I whip my head back and forth to see if anyone has heard me. Mercifully, I am all alone in the hallway.

Mother clicks her tongue in distaste. Temper, my dear, watch your temper.

I take a deep, calming breath. I cannot lose it. I am not insane. I will not embarrass myself.

If you want to help me, mother, you will leave and never, ever come back.

Mother laughs. It is a cruel, ugly sound. But you see, my dear, I do not want to leave. So it seems you are stuck with me... forever. Then she grins and her eyes glint with madness. It is a deranged expression that I do not remember her ever wearing back before she left.

I never left.

You did.

Do not be ridiculous you silly, silly girl.

I feel the door opening and I jump back in surprise.

"Senior Officer Estoril, the trial is over. You are permitted to wait inside while the jury come to their consensuses," an Altmer Soldier reports to me.

I nod my head - still in shock from my altercation with mother - and I follow the Soldier back inside the room. Aside from the jury being gone little has changed in the way of the room's appearance. But an ominous tension hangs heavy in the air. I re-occupy the empty seat in between father and Ondolemar . Unlike last time I had entered the room, father looks up and nods curtly in greeting. I want to ask him what had happened -how everything had gone - but I fear the answers.

I look over to Ondolemar. He flashes me a weak smile. I can feel the stress radiating off him in waves. This is not good.

"Estoril...I-I," he stutters, " I did what I could."

I nod in somber understanding. I know things went badly. I can only hope for the best.

After another half hour of waiting in foreboding silence, the twelve members of the jury reappear through the narrow, floor to ceiling door at the far right end of the room. After the jury members have all re situated themselves in their seats one of them - an Altmer woman - stands up and I hold my breath.

"The jury has reached their consensuses for the charges made against Lord Orthntur and Senior Officer Estoril."

I do not move. I do not speak. I do not blink. I endure.

"The verdict for the allegation that Senior Officer Estoril is collaborating with The Beautiful is -"

And then the colored fish begin to bite me. They chew through the material of my Thalmor Robes creating neat little holes.

" - not guilty."

I let out a sigh of relief, and Junior Officer Ocantar stands up as if to protest, but sits back down when Lord Arelmon levels him with a glare.

"The verdict for the allegation that Lord Orthntur is responsible for collaborating with The Beautiful with the intent to murder Lady Arannelya is -"

They do not stop there. Their razor sharp teeth dig into my flesh. They chew and chew and chew.

" - guilty."

I stop breathing. I stop thinking. The whole world stops.

"Thank you, members of the jury for your impartial verdicts today," Lord Arelmon drawls. " Now, Hundhiel, if you would please read the sentence."

I finally remember to breath again and I gasp for air. Several people at the table give me sideways glances but their eyes do not linger.

Hundhiel - a male Bosmer council member - stands up and clears his throat. " The sentence for high treason and the premeditated murder of a noble Altmer is banishment. Lord Orthntur has a month to leave Alinor and it's respective territories. He may never return."

Banishment. A fate worse than death. No Altmer would tell you any different. This sentiment is especially true for one such as my father who has never left Alinor.

I turn to look at him now. His eyes are wide and disbelieving - horrified really. I have never seen him display such unguarded emotion. They have taken everything from him.

I am afraid. Is it all over yet? I want it to be over.

But it is not over, because then I hear Lord Arelmon begin to speak again. " Thank you, Hundhiel. That will be all. Now, despite Senior Officer Estoril's innocence there is still the matter of her competence. Her actions on Western Coridale were rash, unprofessional and not befitting of a member of the Thalmor."

I feel my stomach churn. It seems I am not out of the woods yet.

" The Council has decided that it would be in the best interest of the Thalmor to suspend Senior Officer Estoril's membership indefinitely, and to strip her of her title."

I turn my gaze to father now and he stares back. I know that our expressions mirror one another. We are united in our horror, pain and shock. It is over. Everything is over. Everything we have ever wanted and cared for has been taken from us. I barely even register Lord Arelmon announce the trials being officially closed. It is as if I am underwater and all sounds are muted.

I have died.