"Akatosh Dichotomy
by Alexandre Simon, High Priest of the Akatosh Chantry, Wayrest
As High Priest of the Akatosh Chantry, I have dedicated my life to the service of the Great Dragon. He who was first at the Beginning. He who is greatest and most powerful of all the Divines. He who is the very embodiment of infinity.
I am, quite obviously, a man of deep and unwavering faith. But not blind faith, for I am also a man of scholarly endeavors, and have always valued education and the pursuit of truth, in all its forms. And so, I have had the honor and privilege of making it my life's work to discover the truth about Akatosh, in all of our beloved Divine's incarnations.
Throughout the civilized world (and I refer not only to the Empire, but to every nation on great Nirn that has embraced the virtues of learning and letters), the Great Dragon is worshipped. Usually, the highest of Divines is referred to as Akatosh. But what some may not be aware of is that he is occasionally referred to by two other names as well.
The Aldmer refer to Akatosh as Auri-El. The Nords call him Alduin. These names come up repeatedly in certain ancient texts, and in each one, it is clear that the deity in question is none other than he whom we call Akatosh.
Yet there are those who believe, even in this enlightened age, that this is not so. That the regional interpretations of Akatosh are not interpretations of Akatosh at all. Rather, they are references to altogether different deities, deities who may or may not share the same aspects or be the Great Dragon at all.
Many Altmer of Summerset Isle worship Auri-El, who is the soul of Anui-El, who in turn is the soul of Anu the Everything. But if you ask the high elves themselves (as I did, when I traveled to Summerset Isle to continue my research), the majority will concede that Auri-El is but Akatosh with a different name, colored by their own cultural beliefs.
So maybe it comes as no surprise that the real theological dissention lies in Skyrim, among the Nord people - renowned as much for their stubbornness as they are their hardiness and prowess on the fields of valor. When I journeyed to the stark white province, I was surprised to find a people whose views on Akatosh are almost diametrically opposed to those of the Altmer. The majority of Nord people seem to believe that their Alduin of legend is not Akatosh, but another deity entirely. A great dragon, yes, but not the Great Dragon.
Determined to get to the heart of this matter, I consulted with several Nords, chief among them an old and respected clan chief by the name of Bjorn Much-Bloodied. And what surprised me most about those I talked to was not that they believed in Alduin instead of Akatosh, but that they recognized Alduin in addition to Akatosh. In fact, most children of Skyrim seem to view Akatosh in much the same way I do - he is, in fact, the Great Dragon. First among the Divines, perseverance personified and, more than anything, a force of supreme good in the world.
Alduin, they claim, is something altogether different.
Whether or not he is actually a deity remains in question, but the Alduin of Nord folklore is in fact a dragon, but one so ancient, and so powerful, he was dubbed the "World Eater," and some accounts even have him devouring the souls of the dead to maintain his own power. Other stories revolve around Alduin acting as some sort of dragon king, uniting the other dragons in a war against mankind, until he was eventually defeated at the hands of one or more brave heroes.
It is hard to deny that such legends are compelling. But as both High Priest and scholar, I am forced to ask that most important of questions - where is the evidence?
The Nords of Skyrim place a high value on their oral traditions, but such is the core of their unreliability. A rumor passed around the Wayrest market square can change so dramatically in the course of a few simple hours, that by the end of the day, one might believe half the city's residents were involved in any number of scandalous activities. How then is an educated, enlightened person possibly supposed to believe a legend that has been passed down, by word of mouth only, for hundreds, or even thousands of years?
The answer to such a question is simple - he cannot.
And so, it is my conclusion that the Alduin of Nord legend is in fact mighty Akatosh, whose story grew twisted and deformed through centuries of retelling and embellishment. Through no real fault of their own, the primitive peoples of Skyrim failed to understand the goodness and greatness of the Great Dragon, and it was this lack of understanding that formed the basis of what became, ironically, their most impressive creative achievement - "Alduin," the World Eater, phantom of bedtime stories and justification for ancient (if imagined deeds)."
Cura found a peaceful place on the mountain peaks above the monastery and spent seven hours in peaceful meditation on the Way of the Voice with Paarthurnax himself. The word Feim, despite using it, puzzled her.
"'Fade' in your tongue. Mortals have greater affinity for this Word than the dov. Everything mortal fades away in time, but the spirit remains." Paarthurnax explained. "Ponder the meaning of spirit. Unslaad zii. Where mortal flesh may wither and die, the spirit endures. That is 'Feim.' Let that meaning fill you. Su'um ahrk morah. You will find that your spirit will give you more strength."
"Thank you, Paarthurnax." Cura expressed her gratitude. A stronger spirit was what she needed most at this point in time. In the past, using Feim had allowed her to make contact with ghosts. And yet, her body remained. The Thu'um was really something else.
"Pruzah mindos hi dreh. You are good at learning the words. I am pleased to teach you." Paarthurnax expressed. Truly, it was lonely atop that mountain.
Cura sought the old Dragon for his wisdom on another matter that bothered her. She'd made up her mind, but she thought he would like to know just the same. "Paarthurnax, the Blades want me to kill you. They say you deserve to die." Just saying the words made her feel ugly inside. Perhaps the common tongue was just as lethal as Dovahzul, but in other ways.
The Elder Dragon seemed to humm as he thought of a response to such a thing. He closed his eyes and nodded solemnly. "The Blades are wise not to trust me. Onikaan ni ov. I would not trust another dovah."
Cura furrowed her brow and looked at the elder wearing a forlorn expression. "Why shouldn't they trust you?"
"Dov wahlaan fah rel. We were made to dominate. The will to power is in our blood. You feel it in yourself, do you not?" Paarthurnax sat down atop the Word Wall and looked to the mortal with Dragonblood herself.
Cura understood it quite well. The powerful rush of energy she felt when she struck down a foe, the burning desire for control over many aspects of life, her aggressive flame that burned within. She knew it all too well, in fact. She was ashamed to admit that she had these urges, but she did. "I understand. I do feel the desire for power. It's..." the more she thought about it, the worse she felt. "It's... terrifying."
Markarth.
That was all she had to remember.
The images of her smashing Vigilant Tyrannus to a bloody pulp. They stood out so vividly in her mind, because, as horrified as she was, she'd lied to herself. Molag Bal sensed this will to dominate within her and exploited it. She enjoyed pummeling the other Vigilant. Not the fact that she pummeled him, but the pummeling itself. She loved it all too much to see Thonar Silver-Blood's head spiral down the stairs into the makeshift ravines below, and the storm that ravaged the city, and the faceless Guards she'd smashed to death with Molag's Mace. The Vampires who harmed her loved ones; every single one of them she butchered made her feel so good. And it ruined her. She felt wrong; sinful; unclean. And yet, Akatosh designed Dragons to be this way?
Paarthurnax picked up from where he left off, reassuring the Dragonborn. "I can be trusted. I know this. But they do not. Onikaan ni ov dovah. It is always wise to mistrust a dovah. I have overcome my nature only through meditation and long study of the Way of the Voice. No day goes by where I am not tempted to return to my inborn nature. Zin krif horvut se suleyk. What is better - to be born good, or to overcome your evil nature through great effort?"
"Nobody is truly born good, Paarthurnax." Cura looked to her religious teachings growing up. "We all fall short of Divine glory. We're from an incomplete world, tainted with sin. The important thing is what you said, exactly; to overcome our evil nature through great effort."
Paarthurnax was silent for a moment, and then raised another question. "I do love a good tinvaak. Enlighten me, Dovahkiin; in a world where none are good, why would you desire to jaaril - to protect these joriin?"
Cura crossed her legs as she sat in the snow and lowered her face as she thought of an articulate answer. Then she responded in the Dragon tongue. "Lokaal, Laas, Kiindah."
Love, life, creation.
"The people of this world are sinful, yes, but the gods love us. The ones who determined we should exist in the first place should be the arbiters of that, right?" Cura said as she lifted her face to see the old dragon. If Akatosh hadn't cared for the mortals, why then would he have made the covenant with Saint Alessia? Why then would his Dragonfires protect the people from Oblivion? "You understand what I mean as well, otherwise you would not be trying to overcome your evil nature through great effort."
Paarthurnax was impressed. "You are learning, Dovahkiin. You are learning what it means to be a Dovah. To question, to learn."
Cura felt humbled by the praise. She wished she could persuade Delphine and Esbern to see reason regarding Paarthurnax, but perhaps they weren't meant to. She decided it was time to study once more. "I wish to meditate on a Word of Power."
Paarthurnax lit up at the suggestion. "Which calls to you, Dovahkiin? Fus, Feim, or Yol?"
Cura closed her eyes and searched herself. "Yol."
"In your tongue, the Word simply means 'Fire.' It is change given form. Power at its most primal. That is the true meaning of 'Yol.'" Paarthurnax explained with great emphasis. "Suleyk. Power. You have it, as do all dov. But power is inert without action and choice. Think of this as the fire builds in your su'um, in your breath. Su'um ahrk morah. What will you burn? What will you spare?"
A very good question. As a field needed fire to renew the soil, corruption too could be cleansed in fire to bring back the best in society.
Inigo, Lucien and Vilja kept watch for newcomers from the upper courtyard of High Hrothgar, from different vantage points.
Lucien turned to Vilja and gestured towards the Throat of the World, where Cura was. "Right. Peace treaty. I feel it's worth mentioning we could still use this opportunity to Shout Ulfric off the Mountainside."
Whether Ulfric was bigoted or not concerned him little. They could technically end the war if they killed him here and now. It would be a sensible third option, and who knows how many lives they'd save?
Vilja scoffed and shook her head. As if Cura would be willing to do that. She didn't know her for that long, but just the same, Vilja could tell she wasn't the type to kill her own relatives. "I don't think so."
"No? Fine, let's do this." Lucien scooched forward disappointedly, finding a higher vantage point. He could see the Legionnaires arriving from further down the mountain. "I really can't believe she got General Tullius to agree to this."
Some distance away, Inigo could see Ulfric Stormcloak and Galmar coming up the mountain side with a small entourage of loyal Stormcloak supporters, who stood guard as they marched up the "7000 Steps".
"The party begins. Sadly, we have no wine, or cheese, or Sweetrolls." He hurried to tell the others.
Author's note: For this whole chapter, I would recommend listening to the "Dragonsreach" theme from Skyrim. Thanks for reading! :) I hope you're enjoying so far!
Paarthurnax looked over the cliff and noticed the arrival of the Imperial General and his Legate, with their own platoon as well, who also guarded Jarl Elisif the Fair, widow of High King Torygg, and Jarl Balgruuf the Greater and Proventus Avenici and Irileth by his sides. Behind them was Elenwen, and several Thalmor accompanying her, as well.
"The peace talks will begin shortly, Dovahkiin. It would be best for you to make yourself known." Paarthurnax informed Cura, snapping her out of her meditative trance.
Cura slowly stood up and quelled the butterflies in her stomach. "I'm ready." She quickly headed down the slopes to reach the inside.
As the Imperials arrived at the entrance steps, they exchanged hateful glares with their blue-clad enemies.
"Ulfric."
"Tullius."
The two men snarled at one another, Ulfric particularly threateningly. All weapons were lowered, but the men were alert of one another's entourage just the same. The contempt was thick in the air like a dark miasma shrouding the two companies.
"I admit, I did not expect you to turn up." Ulfric scoffed.
Legate Rikke and Galmar exchanged familiar glances, and then turned away with disgust.
"I wouldn't miss it for the world, unfortunately for you." Tullius tilted his head upwards.
Elenwen parked her horse and walked inside first, exchanging a side glance with Ulfric as she slithered past the two bickering Generals.
The Nord's expression changed from one of bravado to surprise to see her there. In that brief moment, her golden eyes told him to stay true to his organization, as she would to hers, and he understood.
He wanted to tell her she looked lovely, but this wasn't the time, or the place for such pleasantries. Perhaps there never would be a good time. He hoped to convey that with his eyes instead.
Cura descended the stairs from the courtyard and entered the main hall, where she saw two familiar faces arguing with the Greybeards.
Delphine stood across from her directly, and seemed very cross with the Greybeards. "So, Arngeir, is it? You know why we're here. Are you going to let us in or not?"
No, no, no, what were they doing here?
"You were not invited here. You are not welcome here." Arngeir spoke firmly.
Delphine immediately protested, jabbing a finger in the air. "We have as much right to be at this council as all of you. More, actually, since we were the ones that put the Dragonborn on this path."
Arngeir sneered, but calmed as he recalled Cura's promise. He addressed her with confidence. "We know what path you've set her on. But she has made a different choice. Paarthurnax is still safe from your malice."
Delphine's face darkened. "For now. The Blades' memory is long, as you know."
Esbern tapped his colleague on the shoulder to remind her where they stood. "Delphine, we're not here to rehearse old grudges. The matter at hand is urgent. Alduin must be stopped." he turned to Arngeir diplomatically. "You wouldn't have called this council if you didn't agree. We know a great deal about the situation and the threat that Alduin poses to us all. You need us here if you want this council to succeed."
Arngeir sighed. "Very well. You may enter."
What are they doing here? If they knew about this peace summit, then they must know the Thalmor wouldn't miss a beat to get involved! Cura's back stiffened up.
At that very moment, Elenwen entered ahead of General Tullius, Legate Rikke, Jarl Elisif the Fair, Jarl Balgruuf himself with Proventus and Irileth walking by his sides, Jarl Ulfric Stormcloak, and Galmar Stone-Fist.
Cura's anxiety raised as she saw the daunting group ahead of her. She was joined on either side by Inigo and Lucien, and Vilja stood in front of her defensively.
The Greybeards stood at the center of the grand Hall, where Cura was christened as Dovahkiin for the world to hear.
Delphine and Esbern walked over to Cura's side. "We're bound to you by oath, Dragonborn." Esbern explained. "For a dealing like this, we could not sit idle as you were surrounded by enemies."
"How in Oblivion did you know about this?" Cura was astounded.
"Farengar." Delphine stated. "I was visiting him in Dragonsreach when a letter came in for the Jarl concerning the Dragonborn and a peace summit. We overheard."
"Of course." Cura sighed.
"I have to admit I'm a tad irritated that you didn't tell us, but I get it . Time was short. Do you really think you can do this?" Delphine doubted.
"I can, and I will." Cura responded. What choice did she really have now? Her eyes met Ulfric's from across the room, and he gave her a nod.
Arngeir approached Cura, and his tone was laced with regret. "So, you've done it. The men of violence are gathered here, in these halls whose very stones are dedicated to peace. I should not have agreed to host this council. The Greybeards have no business involving ourselves in such matters."
Cura sighed. "I know, I don't like it either, Arngeir, but I promise it will be the last time. Don't worry. I'll get them to agree to peace."
Arngeir was unconvinced. "Peace? I doubt it. They may put their weapons down for a moment, but only to gather strength for the next bloodletting. They are not yet tired of war. Far from it." He brought her attention to the tense hatred brewing between Ulfric and Tullius on the other side of the room. "Do you know the ancient Nord word for war? "Season unending"... so it has proved. But regrets are pointless. Here we are. Take your seat at the council table and let us see what wisdom we can find among these warriors of Skyrim."
The Greybeards led the way, and Cura began to follow. Inigo nudged her in the arm. "Are you ready for negotiations? I am honoured to be present at such a historic occasion."
"I don't think I could ever truly be ready for this, Inigo, but I have little choice. I have to go, prepared or not." the half-elf responded silently. She did not want her feelings to become widely known.
Inigo decided to try and lighten her mood. "Now is a time for diplomacy. Try to keep the shouting to a minimum. Good luck, my friend." He tapped Cura's upper back comfortingly. She knew he had it.
Cura and her friends walked through the gray halls, and Elenwen approached Cura directly. She appeared distressed. "There you are. I've been meaning to speak with you."
Delphine quickly intervened, getting between the two of them. "She doesn't have to explain herself to you, Thalmor."
"I know who you are, and I am not impressed." Elenwen shook her head. "If this is the company you choose to keep, Cura, you will regret it."
"I have many regrets. What's another? I'm not keeping their company willingly, just so you know." Cura responded back in kind. "Anyways, we're not here about the Blades. We're here about a Dragon Crisis. Can we stay on topic?"
Elenwen was surprised at her assertiveness, but relented. "Fine. We will discuss this at a later time, though. Make no mistake." the Thalmor looked conflicted on the matter, and Delphine picked up on it.
"Good for her. You managed to intimidate her, I think." Delphine remarked.
Cura ignored her as she walked into the main council room; a large, round stone long table that looped around a burning hearth with seats of stone.
Lucien looked at Inigo, and then at Ulfric and Elenwen, and then at Cura. His voice tightened to a whisper. "Are you serious? There's no way... did you know this?"
Inigo chuckled and then held a finger up in front of his mouth to shush him.
"If you can arrange an end to the fighting, Dragonsreach is at your disposal." Jarl Balgruuf sounded hopeful as he took his seat. He had faith in Cura's diplomatic ability. Perhaps more than she did, herself. After all, if she'd found a way to worm into Elenwen's party, she could definitely arbiter a negotiation.
Next in passing came the esteemed Jarl Elisif the Fair, her pale skin reflecting the light of the braziers. Her auburn hair matched the flames themselves, and her white, hold, and pink gown trailed as she walked.
Cura stood near the door to see everyone into the negotiations room.
"Jarl Elisif, it's my pleasure to meet you." Cura graciously took her hand.
"I'm here because it's required of me. But there's nothing to be gained by talking to that murderer." Elisif glared daggers at Ulfric, who was just walking in from the adjacent door. "I understand this council was your idea, Dragonborn. I'm afraid I don't hold out much hope for success."
Cura noted her arrival with the Imperial General. "Do you trust General Tullius?" surely she could rely on the General's good judgment.
"Hmmm... A question I am all too familiar with. One my very Thanes ask often. They worry that Tullius is so focused on the war, that he risks forgetting what's best for our people. The real irony is that, while General Tullius is certainly no Nord, the people of Skyrim would be lost without him." Elisif admitted. "Trust is always difficult, especially for my people. Yet we must trust in Tullius' leadership. For what other choice do we have?"
Ulfric, or the Thalmor.
Stormcloaks or the Aldmeri Dominion, both who are laser-focused on their own causes.
And Cura was caught directly in the middle of it all. Unsurprising as that was, she supposed it was the Gods' intention.
"It's understandable." Cura admitted. "Even if I can't stop the war, I assure you, I will do my best to make a fair and balanced deal."
She had no idea what to anticipate going forward. It was like trying to balance a Mammoth and a Dragon; both were large and dangerous, and both could cause mayhem in the long run.
Hence, why this council was necessary.
Being pessimistic wasn't going to help, so she opted for optimism instead.
"Fair and balanced would be if you tossed Ulfric in the dungeons of Solitude to rot until the end of time." Elisif spat towards the rebel leader as she headed to take her seat.
"Jarl Elisif, that's enough. We aren't here to escalate a fight. We're here to negotiate." General Tullius reprimanded her as they took their place on the western half of the table.
"Now that everyone is here, please take your seats so we can begin." Arngeir urged everyone. The other three Greybeards stood at the entrance doors.
Elisif scoffed in irritation and continued to the table, where she sat between General Tullius and Legate Rikke.
Jarl Balgruuf had the displeasure of sitting beside Elenwen. Proventus and Irileth had come in with him, but he gestured for them to wait for him in the Main Hall.
"Are you sure, my lord?" Proventus asked.
"I trust Cura. Anything happens, she will stand with us." Jarl Balgruuf professed.
Irileth looked at Elenwen and at the other vipers in the room. "I hope you're right, or we might end up tossed to the wilds." She reluctantly stepped outside with Proventus.
Jarl Balgruuf nodded to Cura from his seat. She echoed his sentiment. Even were there no plan to trap a Dragon in effect, she would not let Whiterun down.
Delphine and Esbern stood behind Cura, as well as Lucien, Inigo and Vilja.
Ulfric sat nearer to Cura, adjacent to her right side and opposite to Tullius, and Galmar sat beside him. He decided to make a snide comment. "I never thought I'd ever willingly stand in the same room with Tullius again. At least not with a weapon in my hand."
Cura nodded. "It must feel nice, to not have to fight for a change."
"I've entrusted Galmar with our secret. The relationship between you and myself, I mean. That you're my daughter. It was the only way to convince him that this was a good idea." Ulfric whispered.
Cura wondered if he'd told her this to make her feel uneasy. Unfortunately, it hadn't had the impact he desired, if he had. She was already sweating bullets underneath her robes. This didn't make her feel anymore anxious than she already was.
The air was hot and she relieved herself a touch by pulling down her hood.
As the mediator, her face should be seen by the council, anyways.
She just had to remind herself of what was at stake in the greater scheme of things. If you can't handle a peace negotiation, then you have absolutely no hope against Alduin. Pull yourself together, Cura! she admonished herself mentally.
Galmar looked over Ulfric at Cura and whispered aside to her. "I apologize for the remark about the hybrid elves. You seem all right to me."
Cura was unmoved. A little late to try and get on her good side, now. She raised a hand. "Excuse me, Arngeir... do you have any water? I believe we could all benefit from clearer minds, and I am sure the climb up the mountain did nobody any favours."
"I like the way this girl thinks." Galmar laughed. "Though, I don't think they have any Ale or Mead up here."
"Water should be good enough." Ulfric commented. "If I am to negotiate, I will do it sober-minded. Can't have Tullius taking advantage of my impaired judgment."
General Tullius crossed his arms and shook his head slowly with disgust at the assertion.
Einarth walked out into the hallway up the adjacent steps and returned with a bucket. Borri handed out tankards to all who accepted them. Cura dipped her tankard in the large bucket and scooped out some water. She used the water to rehydrate, and to wash down the butterflies in her stomach. She wiped her mouth on her sleeve and put down the tankard.
Elisif, Esbern, Ulfric, Tullius, Elenwen, and Balgruuf followed the action, themselves.
With the refreshments available, they were ready to officially begin.
Like Stendarr, Cura would try to be fair in her judgment.
This was not going to be easy.
Cura placed both of her hands on the table and interlocked her fingers. "Before we begin: I beseech you, Lord Stendarr for your wisdom and your guidance; for your truth and your prudence; for your patience and understanding; so that I may keep my judgments fair and balanced, as all things should be."
Arngeir waited for Cura to conclude her prayer before starting. "I hope that we have all come here in the spirit of..."
Ulfric spoke quickly. "No. You insult us by bringing her to this negotiation? Your chief Talos-hunter?" he nudged his face towards Elenwen.
Immediately, he established his stance of the meeting. He was not going to have projected power pushed onto himself from the puppet General, as he saw him.
Legate Rikke was unimpressed. "That didn't take long."
Galmar seconded the notion. "Hear, hear!"
Jarl Balgruuf spat sarcastically. "Diplomatic as usual."
Cura immediately placed her hand over her forehead. The first order of business was to debate who could sit there. It was ridiculous. She looked over her right shoulder to Inigo, who seemed unimpressed. She elected to follow his example and stilled her facial expressions.
The Altmer woman crossed her arms and protested, herself. "I have every right to be at this negotiation. I need to ensure that nothing is agreed to here that violates the terms of the White-Gold Concordat."
"She can take that concordat and shove -" Vilja's mouth was covered by Lucien, who did not have to remind everyone what was at stake here. He held up his index finger over his mouth and shushed her.
Tullius looked at Elenwen and then leaned forward over his side of the table to face Ulfric. "She's part of the Imperial delegation. You can't dictate who I bring to this council."
Arngeir immediately screeched the meeting to a halt and grabbed hold of the situation. He was going to nip this one in the bud. "Please. If we have to negotiate the terms of the negotiation, we will never get anywhere. Perhaps this would be a good time to get the Dragonborn's input on this matter." He raised up a hand to Cura at the end of the table.
"You are weak. Sooner you realize it, the sooner we can see the back of you." Galmar stood up from his seat and waved a sharp finger at General Tullius.
"Peace, Galmar." Ulfric slowly pushed him back down by the shoulder before returning his attention to Cura. "By Ysmir's beard, the nerve of those Imperial bastards, eh? To think that we would sit down with that... Thalmor bitch. Either she walks or I do." he threatened right off the bat, fishing for the upper hand. He pointed accusatorially at Elenwen. The word 'bitch' had come off particularly forced and just hung in the air above the room.
Elenwen herself looked amused by the scrambled offense. She had a journal ready for the meeting, however, but was now considering putting it away.
Was 'Thalmor bitch' really the best he could come up with?
Cura cringed in her seat. She knew it was mostly an act, but it was distracting just the same. All eyes were on her right now, and she had to perform with tact and care. She looked to her father, and then to her mother, who stared at her from across the room, awaiting her answer.
"Elenwen can stay." Cura determined. It would cause less problems down the line were she to cooperate with her mother and her organization by extension. For a time. The Thalmor would be slightly appeased were Elenwen made aware of the goings-on. "What's the harm? We're doing nothing worth hiding here. The whole province will know of this eventually regardless."
"Thank you, Cura. At least someone is reasonable on that end of the table." Elenwen said as she shifted to find a comfortable seating position on the confounded stone chair.
"Fine. I suppose the witch can stay, if it pleases you. But she is to observe, nothing more. We are not negotiating with her, is that clear?" Ulfric snapped, provlaiming sternly as he looked at Cura and Elenwen both.
The Altmer took her turn now, to do a little prodding of her own. Her voice lilted almost playfully. "Ulfric, why so hostile? After all, it's not the Thalmor that's burning your farms and killing your sons."
Legate Rikke muttered to General Tullius not-so-silently and nudged her head towards Elenwen. "She's supposed to be on our side?"
Lucien covered his smile with his hand. Oh, if they only knew what he just figured out. It suddenly made a lot of sense.
"You know exactly -" Ulfric was about to say something, but he cut himself off. "No. Not this time."
Arngeir was growing weary of the sideshow "Now that that's settled, may we proceed? General Tullius. Jarl Ulfric. This council is unprecedented. We are gathered here at the Dragonborn's request. I ask that you all respect the spirit of High Hrothgar, and do your best to begin the process of achieving a lasting peace in Skyrim. Who would like to open the negotiations?"
"I have something to say first." Ulfric stood up assertively, and his eyes scoped out the room. He stood amidst his foes, with precious few allies sitting by his side. If there ever were a time to teach her, he would show Cura how to dominate the room.
Legate Rikke leaned back in her seat exasperatedly. "Here we go."
"The only reason I agreed to attend this council was to deal with the dragon menace." Ulfric proclaimed overtly. "There's nothing else to talk about, unless the Empire is finally ready to renounce its unjust claim to rule over the free people of Skyrim."
"I knew he wouldn't be able to resist." Legate Rikke crossed one leg over the other as she muttered to Elisif and General Tullius beside her.
"We're here to arrange a temporary truce to allow the Dragonborn here to deal with the dragons. Nothing more." Ulfric assured him transparently. He even gestured towards Cura in the moment for assurance. He was serious about it. "I consider even talking to the Empire a generous gesture."
His arrogance was a show. Cura could see nervousness brewing behind his weary eyes.
Though she felt a tad nervous still, Cura was beginning to feel a little more comfortable, knowing that Ulfric was at least trying to be open with everybody, in spite of his overt bravado. She smiled and nodded to her Father.
General Tullius was unimpressed by his bravado. "Are you done? Did you just come here to make speeches? Or can we get down to business?"
Ulfric sat back down on the uncomfortable stone chair. "Yes, let's get this over with."
Everybody was silent for a moment, and General Tullius and Jarl Ulfric spent some time waiting for what the other would say first. Ulfric obliged, coming out bluntly and forcefully. "Yes, let's get down to it. We want control of Markarth. That's our price for agreeing to a truce."
As soon as Cura heard that word, "Markarth" she knew she was sunk. Of course. That accursed city has been the bane of her from the day she set foot in it. Wretched place! Devil's den that it was.
Cura wiped some sweat off her forehead.
Madanach and the Forsworn were free in the Reach now, and they had a peaceful agreement with her personally. Sky Haven Temple was within their jurisdiction, but the Forsworn tolerated the Blades' activities in Karthspire because of her, albeit undesired, partnership with Madanach.
Delphine and Esbern both tensed up, as well. They both seemed to feel Cura's sentiment, or at the very least had a feeling that it would not bode well for them, being smack in the middle of Forsworn territory.
If Cura handed Markarth over to the Stormcloaks, what would these prejudiced Nords do to the natives? She recalled Ulfric's history there, too.
The apple really didn't fall far from the tree where Markarth was concerned, did it?
Jarl Elisif spat with outrage. "So that's why you're here, Ulfric? You dare to insult the Greybeards by using this council to advance your own position?"
General Tullius held up his hand to reassure and silence the frazzled Jarl. "Jarl Elisif, I'll handle this."
She wasn't hearing it. The woman's fair face flushed red with injustice. "General, this is outrageous! You can't be taking this demand seriously! I thought we were here to discuss a truce!"
The General could not have this now. He raised his voice commandingly, causing her to quiet down. "Elisif! I said I'd handle it." Immediately, he addressed the matter. "Ulfric, you can't seriously expect us to give up Markarth at the negotiating table." The General almost played it off like a drunken musing, looking at the demand from a logistical standpoint. "You hope to gain in council what you've been unable to take in battle, is that it?"
Whatever the intent was, Ulfric grew visibly upset at that assertion. The harsh implications that his army was lacking hurt his pride more than he'd care to admit, but the Jarl kept his cool, instead closing his eyes and exhaling through his nose.
Arngeir called out to the General, appealing to his reason. "I'm sure Jarl Ulfric does not expect something for nothing." The wise old man glared at the rebellion leader with the corner of his eye; a familiar expression that told him he was headed the wrong way.
What would he expect to give the Empire in return for their mining city? Had he thought this through at all?
Legate Rikke muttered aside, turning her face to the back wall. "Yes, that'd be entirely out of character."
For just a moment, Elenwen glared at the Legate as she prepared her journal for note-taking. She quickly averted her eyes and licked the tip of her quill pen and then dipped it in an ink blot.
Cura was being stared at from all sides. She couldn't reasonably hand Markarth over to the Stormcloaks! She gestured for Borri to return with the bucket of waters. Gods knew, she would need it.
Arngeir turned towards General Tullius. "What would the Empire want in return?"
Elisif immediately interrupted, heart plagued with disdain for the man across from them. "Wait. General, you don't intend to just hand over Markarth to that... traitor!"
Jarl Balgruuf was disgusted by the proposal, himself. He waved a dismissive hand at Tullius. "This is how the Empire repays us for our loyalty?"
The General was very short on patience. He slammed his hands down on the stone table. "Enough! First, let's be clear. This council wasn't my idea. I think it's a waste of time. You are a traitor to the Empire, and deserve a traitor's death. But I at least will negotiate in good faith."
The sound of a storm brewing outside could be heard ambiently in the chamber hall. The silence dropped like a death knell, and the Imperial General looked to the Dragonborn for advice. "Since we're all here at your request, I'd like to hear what you think Markarth is worth."
Cura's hand was shaking under the table. Whatever the choice, she knew it was going to come back and haunt her. She looked at the concerned Jarl Balgruuf first. His face was always a welcome one, of warmth and comfort. He looked to her for hope this time, however.
Markarth was worth too much. Just too much.
Ulfric was a strong negotiator, opening with such a hard-hitting request, though he only knew its Imperial significance. Much of the economics of Skyrim depended on the Silver extracted from the mine whose name she would rather not speak of, and the Empire relied on it rolling out for trade.
Perhaps she could deter the request by proposing something equally as outrageous from the Stormcloaks.
What if the Empire would be knocking on Ulfric's doorstep?
The Rift. Of course, the Rift! If she recommended the Rift, Ulfric would immediately see the disadvantage it would put him in. Lake Honrich, the Jerall Mountains, the meadery, the climate... there were a number of advantages to controlling the Rift.
Cura took a sip of water and gently laid the tankard down. A small grin appeared on her face through her attempts to conceal it. "Riften. If you want Markarth, you'll have to give them the Rift."
Ulfric angrily jumped up from his seat, and Galmar shadowed his actions.
Inigo almost laughed, seeing his friend's intentions with the absurd demand.
"You heard what she said, Ulfric." General Tullius stated. "We've made you a fair offer. Are you serious about these talks, or are you just here to posture?"
Ulfric shook his head sadly as he faced Cura. "I expected better from you Dragonborn. I came here in good faith, and now it seems you help the Empire at every turn."
Cura shrunk under her father's disappointed gaze for a moment before remembering what was at stake. Then the guilt faded away. He told her to stick with the Empire. So she would. "Make a reasonable demand, and I will consider your side."
Jarl Balgruuf laughed and clapped his hands. "Yes, Ulfric; you can't take handouts at every occasion."
"If you know what's best, Balgruuf, you'd shut your trap." Ulfric spat towards the other Jarl. "As for you, General Tullius. I see now that Galmar was right. Talking to the Empire is just as useless as ever. If you think you can hold Markarth, you're as deluded as your Emperor when he signed away our freedom to the Thalmor."
Elenwen shifted in her seat momentarily. He said the plain truth then and there, but she would dare not sabotage the meeting. Instead, she noted the Jarl's insolence against the others.
Cura exhaled with relief. They would have to get Markarth the old-fashioned way. She was not about to cause issues with the Forsworn. Not at this late a stage.
"Skyrim will never again bow to your false Empire!" Ulfric declared vehemently, and gestured to his comrade as he was about to leave. "Let's go, Galmar. I should have listened to you in the first place."
"No, wait, you can't leave!" Cura pleaded, standing up, herself. "If you so much as walk out that door - you'll sign the fate of this world in blood. Would Talos want that? Would he want his people to be vanquished by the World-Eater? As long as this war rages, innumerable souls are being consumed! Please!"
"Those are old wives' tales." Ulfric sneered, his anger lain bare as he continued to walk.
"What a sore loser." Vilja muttered to Lucien.
"The Shout-off-the-mountain idea is sounding rather good now, isn't it?" Lucien muttered back, only to be silenced by Vilja in return.
"You were always a fool, Ulfric." General Tullius insulted him. "You're no better at diplomacy than you are on the battlefield."
Esbern quickly rushed over to the exit door and obstructed Ulfric's path. "Stop! Are you so blind to our danger that you can't see past your petty disagreements?"
Ulfric stared at him blankly. He was surprised by the gall of this old man who would block a Jarl's walkway so boldly. In most cases, such an affront would merit punishment.
"Here you sit arguing about... nothing! While the fate of the land hangs in the balance!" Esbern tried to return the conversation to what mattered most.
Ulfric turned around and spoke to Delphine, who stood behind Cura at her left. "Is he with you, Delphine? If so, I advise you to tell him to watch his tongue."
Delphine confirmed assertively. "He is with me." She gestured towards the belligerent Jarl and the stern General, and was the at the firmest Cura and her allies had ever seen her. "And I advise you both to listen to what he has to say, before you do anything rash."
Esbern tried to reach everybody. Whether they saw him as a fear-mongerer or not was irrelevant. "Don't you understand the danger? Don't you understand what the return of the Dragons means? Alduin has returned! The World-Eater! Even now, he devours the souls of your fallen comrades! He grows more powerful with every soldier slain in your pointless war! Can you not put aside your hatred for even one moment in the face of this mortal danger?"
Elenwen was unconvinced. "A very pretty speech, but what does it have to do with..."
She was then cut off by Ulfric, who exclaimed, "Shut up!"
The Altmer looked surprised, and searched around the faces of the table before pursing her lips and crossing her arms. The first time they'd seen each other in person for decades, and it had to be here. Cura looked at her and at Ulfric for a second and then cleared her throat.
"If he's right about Alduin... we both have just as much to lose here, Tullius, remember that." Ulfric hesitantly returned to his seat at the table.
"I've fought the World-Eater once already, and he's fled. I will need to trap a Dragon in Jarl Balgruuf's keep so I can reach the Wyrm in his own turf and slay him once and for all." Cura explained the matters.
Inigo spoke up out of turn. "If you do not believe her, I will suggest she demonstrate the Shout indoors - none of you will want that."
"No, we would not." Arngeir shut him down.
"Anyways, my friend here is not a liar. You should listen to her. You would not have been called here if it was not true." Inigo seasoned the conversation lightly.
Lucien also elected to step forward. "Very much so. We saw the World-Eater. He nearly killed us! ...But Cand-Cura-" he narrowly stopped himself from embarrassing his friend during this dire occasion. "-saved us from his black jaws. I would stake my soul on her being able to finish that beast. I just need your cooperati - no... Skyrim needs your cooperation." She looked at her father directly. "If you love this land as much as you say you do, you'll do this. Not for me, not for the Empire, not for the Thalmor, but for Skyrim. For your home, and for the people you love."
Ulfric searched Cura's green eyes, and saw only raw honesty in them. The timing and location was not idea for him to express his pride in her, but he hoped to convey it, again, with his eyes. "You make a good point. I suppose I'll humour Tullius a little while longer."
Cura clasped her hands together. Thank you, Stendarr! and she slowly slumped back into her seat.
"Now... back to the matter at hand."
The General searched Ulfric up and down, examining his body language. They just got through an impasse. What was he about to stir up now?
Elenwen kept notes of what was said during the meeting. She was impressed by Cura's quick thinking in suggesting Riften. It was clear she inherited her political sense. She was curious to see just how much. Negotiations were much a battle of their own accord; a battle of wits, a battle of commerce, a battle of civilization, determined by penwright rather than swordsmanship.
Cura was quite good at creating shields, and quick to form verbal swords. How long could she keep it up, however?
Elenwen scribed in clear Aldmeric: "Clever girl." underneath the decisions made. She would keep her eye on the Dragonborn.
"Don't hand me a mug of sheep's piss and call it mead. These terms are still not acceptable." Ulfric feigned grave insult.
General Tullius responded. "I'm sure you have something in mind."
"Damn right we do." Galmar proclaimed.
"Since you'd rather cling so tightly to Markarth..." Ulfric was willing to concede for a smaller victory. "Instead, you can surrender Falkreath to us. Siddgeir steps down, and Dengeir of Stuhn resumes the Jarlship."
The General looked quite perturbed by this, and snapped to a quick retort. "Where do these demands stop, Ulfric? Do you expect me to surrender all of Skyrim?"
"I'm willing to let the Dragonborn be the judge of the fairness of my request." Ulfric was confident that Cura would grant him that. "What say you, Dragonborn?"
Cura gave thought to it, and, recalling Falkreath, knew that it was only a small mountain chain's distance from Whiterun. She'd run through the wooded mountains with Vilkas during her time with the Companions.
She tried to recall the location well, and ultimately decided that perhaps it could work for the purposes of the treaty. If she had to choose between giving them Markarth or Falkreath, then Falkreath it would have to be.
Cura nodded. "Falkreath is just fine."
"You know I can't agree to these terms. The Emperor would repudiate this treaty and I would be recalled." General Tullius shook his head. "I'll only give you Falkreath if you have the Pale returned to Imperial control. The traitor Skald the Elder will be replaced with a more loyal candidate."
How fitting.
Well, Skald wouldn't be missed, that was for certain. Cura knew that one quite well for a fact. Recalling the hard time Jarl Skald had often given Keeper Carcette in the past made it easier for Cura to make this decision. "The Pale for Falkreath is only fair, Jarl Ulfric."
"Fine; but there is one other thing. I believe I would be doing the Snow-Shods and countless others a disservice if I did not bring this up..." Ulfric began.
Legate Rikke narrowed her eyes at him. "What is it now?"
"We demand compensation for the massacre at Old Hroldan." Ulfric swooped like a Hawk, calling out the Legion before the Summit.
Galmar snarled, impassioned. "You slaughtered them - the women, the children! You butchers!"
Legate Rikke was shook to her core. It took her a moment to process what she was hearing, but she quickly responded in denial of such atrocity. "That's a lie! My legionnaires are disciplined, unlike your..."
General Tullius shook his head. "You don't really expect compensation every time a farm gets burned in a war that you started, do you Ulfric?"
Ulfric cupped his hand behind his ear, motioning towards an inaudible clamour. "Do you hear that, Tullius? The blood of the innocent cries out for weregild."
"Fine. We will pay compensation only if you pay in kind for the destruction of Stonehills." General Tullius asserted.
Legate Rikke agreed, and reinforced the claim. "You slaughtered the very people you claim to be fighting for! True sons of Skyrim would never do such things."
"Damned Imperial lies! My men would never stoop to such methods, even in retaliation for your butchery at..." before Galmar could finish his defense, he was cut off.
Ulfric pointed at the General. "This is our homeland, Tullius. All the blood spilled in this war is on your head."
Cura stood up with haste and broke up the argument. "It doesn't matter who started it; just pay your dues and set things right!"
General Tullius nodded. "For once you'll actually pay for your crimes."
"And that goes for you, too!" Cura snapped at the General. "Innocents have died on account of this war. Accept your set of responsibilities and Ulfric will his."
"Spoken like a true daughter of Skyrim!" Ulfric proclaimed, raising his tankard before taking a large gulp of water.
Cura peered over at Ulfric after his declaration, and she felt something warm and comforting fill her chest.
"I suppose that's the fairest deal we're likely to get." General Tullius pondered.
"It seems we may have an agreement." Arngeir looked at Cura hopefully and then spoke generally. "Jarl Ulfric... General Tullius... These are the terms currently on the table: Markarth remains allied to the Empire, under the authority of Jarl Igmund. Riften remains allied to the Stormcloak cause, under the authority of Jarl Laila Law-Giver..."
Lucien, Inigo, and Vilja each exchanged awestruck expressions as the terms were unfolding.
"Ulfric will allow Imperial forces into the Pale. Skald the Elder will go into exile, and Brina Merilis will assume the Jarlship."
Cura pumped her fist silently under the table with an internal 'Yes!' for Dawnstar. Brina Merillis had always seemed reasonable; she hoped that she would take better care of the Hold than Skald had.
"The Empire will allow Ulfric's forces to enter Falkreath. Jarl Siddgeir will step down, and Dengeir of Stuhn will take his place as Jarl."
"The Empire will pay appropriate compensation for the massacre at Old Hroldan, and the Stormcloaks will pay appropriate compensation for the destruction of Stonehills." Arngeir concluded.
Ulfric gave a dismissive nod of approval to the results. "Bah! This is a waste of time. I can see that we won't get better terms from this council. So be it. The sons of Skyrim at least put the greater good above our own interests."
"You both agree to this?" Arngeir pointed to the opposition leaders, demanding a final answer.
Ulfric shrugged. "I shouldn't agree to terms that so blatantly favor the Empire. I have no choice, though, under the circumstances." he glanced over at Cura, and then at Tullius. "But once Alduin is defeated - then it will be the Empire's turn. Remember - "Evgir Unslaad.""
Cura's expression of relief turned to one of anger and resignation, Once Alduin is dead, the war just continues. Of course.
The Bear of Markarth addressed the fair Jarl herself, finally. "You should be pleased, Elisif. You've done well for yourself as the Empire's pet Jarl. But beware - the Empire's loyalty is fickle. They will tire of this war, and then I will be the one dictating terms to you."
Jarl Elisif turned her face away from her husband's killer, and spoke to the General instead. "I have nothing to say to that murderer. General, you've proven yourself a good friend to Skyrim. I continue to trust that you will do your utmost to safeguard our interests."
General Tullius spoke softer this time around. "Thank you, Jarl Elisif. I appreciate your loyalty." He addressed the expecting Arngeir. "The Empire can live with these terms, yes. For a temporary truce, until the dragon menace is dealt with."
As Ulfric stood up from the table, General Tullius directed his attention to him. "After that, Ulfric... there will be a reckoning. Count on it."
"I'm shaking in my boots." Ulfric announced mockingly as he began to walk. "Come on, Galmar. We have a lot of work to do." He called his right hand to walk with him. Before he walked out, he looked back at Cura with a side glance and gave her a small nod.
That nod was fast, but it spoke volumes to Cura, who nodded back in response. I will make it worthwhile. I'll save Skyrim. Don't worry. She spoke in her heart.
General Tullius looked at Cura. "A small compensation I can live with, and Falkreath should be easy enough to reclaim. You've proven your loyalty to the Empire here on this day, Dragoonborn. I still can't figure out why you refuse to serve in the Legion, though."
Cura shrugged. "My oath to Stendarr transcends politics."
General Tullius was puzzled. "And yet you agreed to host political discourse at High Hrothgar."
Cura really had no refutation for the course of events. "I did it because there was no other option."
Jarl Balgruuf looped around the table and expressed his astonishment. "I admit, I really didn't expect you'd be able to arrange a truce. Getting Ulfric to agree to anything at all is quite an achievement."
"It was... and yet it feels like I've accomplished nothing." Cura confessed her sorrows at knowing the war was still going to rage on.
Arngeir cut the conversation short and brought attention to Cura's scheme. "Jarl Baalgruf, I assume you are familiar with the Dragonborn's plan?"
Jarl Balgruuf bowed his head to the Greybeard in respect. "Yes, I'm ready to do my part. Just say the word, and my men will help you spring this trap."
"Thank you." Cura bowed forward quickly. Her heart was racing. She was ready to get this plan off the ground.
"But the difficulty remains - how to lure a dragon to Dragonsreach at all?" Arngeir wondered. It was a strange plan from the start.
General Tullius scratched his chin. "Well that's an excellent question. You haven't overlooked that little detail, have you?"
Esbern interjected from across the room, and hurried back to Cura's side, and to the group. "Ah. I believe I can be of help here."
Everybody turned their gaze to Esbern.
"I anticipated the problem. While you were arranging this meeting, I was busy in the library of-" as Esbern spoke, Delphine noted Elenwen's continued presence at the table, and the Elder quickly reworked his phrase. "...the Library, in Solitude... an unsurpassed trove of lost lore... but the important thing is that the Blades recorded many of the names of Dragons they slew."
Cura liked where this was going. "And one of them can bring me to Alduin, if it's been revived, right? That's what you're getting at?"
"Yes. Cross-referencing this with Delphine's map of Dragon Burial sites and I believe I've identified one of the Dragons that Alduin has raised up." Esbern confirmed.
"All right, and...?" Cura was waiting for the name.
"Ah, don't you see? The names of Dragons are always three words of Power - Shouts." Esbern lectured what Cura already knew. "By calling the Dragon with the Voice, he will hear you wherever he might be."
"Like Durnehviir." Cura muttered to herself.
"But why would a Dragon with no loyalty to her come when she calls?" Lucien interjected.
Vilja added, "Yeah, they aren't Flower Girls - they're violent, flying lizards."
"He's not compelled to, but Dragons are prideful by nature and loath to refuse a challenge." Esbern generalized. Noting Cura's unfamiliar form, Esbern continued. "Your Voice in particular is likely to intrigue this Dragon, after your victory over Alduin. I think it very likely that he will be unable to resist investigating your call."
"So, what is this Dragon's name?" Cura asked once more.
"Ah, indeed. I'm no master of the Voice like these worthy gentlemen, but it is written here in this scroll." Esbern reached into his pocket and took out a piece of weathered old parchment and laid it out before Cura, the Greybeards, and all else present.
"Od - Ah - Viing. 'Winged Snow Hunter', as I read it." Esbern pronounced each syllable roughly. The Greybeards seemed impressed by his efforts nonetheless.
Cura kept a note of it. "Odahviing. Odahviing."
Jarl Balgruuf gave some thought. "Wow... capturing a real Dragon... it feels like something straight out of legend. Perhaps songs will be sung of this someday."
"Cura, the Dragon-Trapper." Inigo laughed. "Sounds like it could be a fun song, my friend."
"That isn't important to me." Cura shook her head. "I will do what I must, that's all. I just want to kill Alduin before he causes even more damage. He's been waiting for this; I've been waiting for this. It must be done."
Elenwen was packing up her journal and her ink blot and quill pen. She seemed to be waiting for Cura.
"I will need to ensure the trap works. No use relying on something that could betray us all when we need it, right?" Balgruuf informed her. "I'll give it a couple of days. Prepare yourself and bring anybody who you think could be of assistance. I will also need people to help our Guards protect the city. No doubt you know some talented people."
Cura looked among her allies. "I'm going to train myself for the battle. I want you three to bring as many of our allies as possible. Inigo, you have the Dawnguard and Vigil, Lucien, you have Winterhold, and Vilja, speak to the Companions."
"My friend, if I am going to the Dawnguard, you may want to come with me." Inigo proclaimed. "You may want to speak to your family before confronting your destiny."
Cura stiffened up for a second ad realized that he was right. It would be wrong to not see them at least one last time, should she fall against Alduin. "You're right; thank you, Inigo."
"My friend, I am with you to the end." Inigo gave her a thumbs up.
Cura turned to Arngeir. "Thank you for all you've done for me, Master Arngeir. I want you to know I appreciate it very much."
"Godspeed, Dragonborn. Fate turns upon you." Arngeir replied kindly.
Jarl Balgruuf rejoined Proventus and Irileth outside. "Head outside to the Great Porch as soon as we arrive at Dragonsreach. I want that trap to be fully functional."
"Yes, my Jarl." Proventus bowed as he walked with him.
General Tullius, Legate Rikke and Jarl Elisif took their leave, as well.
"Good luck to you, Dragonborn. For all our sakes, don't fail." Tullius ordered as he left the room.
Arngeir followed the other Greybeards to the main hall to see them out.
All who remained were Cura, her friends, the Skyguard, and Elenwen.
Delphine wasted no time. "Well, looks like you found us, Thalmor. What's it gonna be?" she placed a hand on her sword's hilt as she glared at Elenwen.
"Please, you wouldn't last ten seconds." Elenwen sneered at the Breton. She slowly stood up and slung her satchel over her shoulder.
"Why did you agree to come here, really?" Cura demanded to know.
"I've told you; I needed to validate the integrity of this meeting." Elenwen said plainly. "It was satisfactory. The Concordat remains unhindered. So now I will leave."
Esbern stepped forward. "You could capture or kill us right now if you wanted to. Why haven't you tried?"
Elenwen looked at them both, and at Cura, who had enough to deal with as it was. "I don't know. The Blades are elusive. Why would anybody expect them to show up to a council between the Stormcloak rebels and the Imperial forces? The notion sounds foolish to me."
Cura was more surprised than Delphine and Esbern. "You're going to turn a blind eye?"
Elenwen nodded. "Only this once, because of extenuating circumstances. The Dragons are as much of a threat to the Thalmor as to you. But if you two ever resurface again, I will have you killed. Do you understand?"
"Very much so." Delphine removed her hand from the hilt of her sword as she began to walk out.
Esbern followed her, but turned one last time to Cura. "Your darkest hour approaches, Dragonborn. We will be there tomorrow, at Dragonsreach, to help you. And then after that... well, I am not certain."
There was still the unresolved matter with Paarthurnax between them.
After the Blades left, Elenwen addressed Cura directly. "Is there a place where we can speak that isn't so... noise-polluted?"
"This is a giant echo chamber, so not indoors." Cura gestured towards the environment surrounding them. "Maybe the courtyard."
She told her friends to wait at the front entrance, and she took Elenwen with her privately out into the courtyard.
"Speak your piece." Cura said as she set foot on the snow.
A light snowfall sprinkled the air around them.
"Ugh. This blasted frozen wasteland always makes me utterly miserable!" Elenwen complained as snow entered her boot.
Cura looked unamused.
"Yes. Right." Elenwen cleared her throat. "You're going to fight against the World-Eater... once and for all.
"I am."
Elenwen's expression fell as she lowered her guard momentarily. A great sadness overtook the Altmer and she spoke shakily. "It's... it is terribly tragic how things have turned out between us, I know. I... just want you to know that I do care about you. The thought of you before the gaping maw of such a horror... it's awful to behold."
Cura crossed her arms and swayed to one side. "You're telling me this, why?"
Elenwen abandoned her as a baby. It was a little late to express this sort of sentiment. Whether it was genuine or not, Cura couldn't be so sure. With Elenwen, anything was possible.
"Because I may not get another chance." Elenwen stated frantically. "Please, would you hear my words?"
Cura sighed. "All right."
Elenwen took her hands into her own. "I wasn't there for you. I know. I'm a terrible mother. But perhaps it needed to be this way so that you could rise to the occasion as you have. Who can really say?"
Cura had no answer to give, though the thought had crossed her mind before as well.
Elenwen took a couple of seconds to wipe her eyes as emotion overtook her. "W-what you're going to do is dangerous. You could lose your life against the Dragon."
Cura nodded silently.
"I could never have even gotten the chance to speak with you again. I hope you understand." Elenwen tried to justify her abrupt meeting.
"I'm going to do my best against Alduin." Cura assured her. "I might survive, too."
"I hope you do." Elenwen gently caressed her left cheek. "Cura, I want you to know that I love you. I've loved you from afar. Fate has separated us, but it will never change that fact."
Cura was unsure of how to feel, herself. This was effectively a minor acquaintance she was talking to.
But, she was her mother.
"Well, that meeting was awkward, but I'm glad I got through to them." Cura mused about the council.
"He did it for you, you know." Elenwen stated. "In his own way, Ulfric relented in that council. No doubt he was anticipating more than just Falkreath and some meager compensation."
"What are you saying?" Cura asked.
"Ulfric was putting on a show for the General, but he was thinking of you, and your job at hand, and so made the easier choice." Elenwen confessed. "I took none of his insults to heart - he must maintain his image."
Cura gave it thought and realized that it was quite a shift in attitude - from demanding Markarth to settling for Falkreath.
"You're quite clever, but you still have a lot to learn on the political battlefield." Elenwen admitted. "But, I am proud of you. You did very well in diplomacy. That is most certainly the Altmer in you. You may have a future in politics someday."
Cura was unsure how to take that. For most of her life she'd only heard about the bad side of the High Elves. It always perturbed her to think that her mother was an irredeemable killer of mankind.
And now that she met her, that suspicion was both confirmed and debunked. She was a Thalmor, yes, and a snake at heart, but she did have a magnanimous side as well.
The two stood in silence under the falling snow for a little while. "To be honest, I really don't know what I want out of this life. It's all so complicated." Cura confessed. "In approximately the last two years, everything in the world and in my life has turned upside down. Did you know that Keeper Carcette was potentially going to recommend the position to me next? That's long gone."
"Your 'professor in Chorrol?'" Elenwen asked. "I didn't believe that story, by the way. I knew you were using her name. It came across my desk sometime before where Thorald Gray-Mane was involved. You'll have to give me the full story on that, provided you come back alive."
Even if she lived, Cura would not tell her. "Trying to pry from me again."
"Oh, that wasn't for my job - it was genuine curiosity. How ever did you get General Tullius to sign off on Thorald's release?" Elenwen laughed.
"Maybe I'll discuss it with you at some point after the World-Eater is gone." Cura offfered.
"I'd like that. Come see me at the Embassy." Elenwen extended an invitation as she led the way back inside. As they returned to the Great Hall, she put her professional face back on and addressed Cura condescendingly before her friends. "Mind that this war is far from over. You think your little attempt at peace actually mattered. The Thalmor will be watching with much intrigue, I assure you."
Vilja looked the other way and sulked. "Typical High Elf, thinking they know everything."
Lucien wanted to tell Elenwen to cut the act, but he figured it may incite more issues than needed, and elected to hold his tongue.
Inigo scratched behind his ear and watched the Thalmor leave the main hall. As soon as the doors closed shut, he turned to Cura. "So, I take it you and Elenwen had a little heart-to-heart outside?"
Cura looked at Lucien and Vilja, and then shifted back to the Khajiit. "Do they know?"
Lucien rolled his eyes. "Of course I know! Do you really think I'm stupid?"
Cura stiffened up in the moment and began to massage the back of her neck. "I never asked for any of this. Just so you know."
"How did it feel, being sandwiched between three very big groups?" Vilja queried.
"In my life situation, or at the council?" Cura needed clarification.
"Both."
"Tense. Very tense, truth be told." Cura admitted. She took in a deep breath of air. "I'm ready to fight that dark menace, at long last. We know what we must do. Thank you all, so much."
Inigo nodded. "It is no problem at all! Let us go see the Dawnguard, my friend."
Lucien looked at Vilja. "You go get the Companions, and I'll go get the Mages."
"Err - right. Should be easy enough. They'd be willing to help, for sure!" Vilja hoped. After all, the Companions valued honour, and there was nothing more honourable than defending the city from a Dragon, right?
"See you tomorrow." Cura waved to the other half of her party.
"Talk later."
"Godspeed, Candle!"
The group went their separate ways for the time being. There was much work to get done, and not enough time.