Elenwen loomed over the Tactician's Map in the Thalmor Outpost set up Northwest of Windhelm. The elegant Thalmor agent's long, slim fingers traced the boundaries of Skyrim, pausing over the jagged coastline of Solitude. Her cold blue eyes narrowed as she contemplated the political landscape. The patterns she'd uncovered through the interrogation of discovered Mythic Dawn agents seemed to line up, to coalesce in the City of Ysgramor, just due Southeast.
It all hinged on the Shrine of Talos.
Of Talos.
It was enough to make her teeth break from gnashing. She gazed at it with intense focus, her heart racing as she'd thought of the implications. If the Mythic Dawn sought to defile that little Shrine, then the Thalmor would have no choice but to concede to the Divinity of Talos. The Thalmor's decades-long campaign to eliminate the worship of Talos would be undone in a single, devastating act. She could feel it in her bones - this was the moment she'd been dreading. A possibility that frightened her to her core.
The god who'd all but destroyed her people existed, well, and true. If that Shrine truly possessed the divine spark, it meant that Talos was, indeed, a god. That meant the Aldmeri Dominion, the entire Aldmeri pantheon, had been wrong, and that they were likely in peril, themselves.
Elenwen's fist slammed down on the table, her composure shattering for an instant as her mind grappled with this impossibility. No, not impossibility. It was a nightmare, a catastrophe in the making. The Thalmor's entire existence, their very purpose, hinged on the belief that Talos was a false god, a mere man who had been said to have usurped the divine seat. If that were true, the forces of Mehrunes Dagon were but the beginning of their troubles.
"No. It's heretical," Elenwen whispered to herself. "a man cannot become a god." As Elenwen's thoughts churned, a sudden gust of wind billowed through the outpost, extinguishing several candles and causing the maps and documents to flutter wildly. The Thalmor agent looked up, her eyes scanning the room for the source of the disturbance. The door to the outpost burst open, revealing Consulate Zephyrion.
"First Emissary." He bowed forward. "Your Excellency, we have a situation of utmost importance." His usually composed demeanor was frayed at the edges, and his hands quivered slightly as he clutched a stack of parchments. Elenwen stood, her features sharp with concern.
"What is it, Zephyrion?" She demanded, her voice firm despite the gravity of the moment. The wind howled outside, as if nature itself were warning of impending doom.
Consulate Zephyrion raised his hands in a placating gesture. "At ease, First Emissary. The news I bear is most... unusual."
"Spit it out." Elenwen rolled up the map and placed it between two books to prevent its rolling.
Zephyrion crossed the threshold of the small chamber and stopped short at the end of her desk. "The Dragonborn lives." He uttered, his face ashen with disbelief and concern.
A chill swept through Elenwen as the implications of those three words sank in. She steadied herself, gripping the edge of her desk for support. "Impossible," she said, but uncertainty now undercut her conviction.
"Not impossible," Zephyrion said grimly, laying a hand on a folded document before him. "I had just spoken with her at the Bee & Barb in Riften. Vigilant Cura is dead no longer." The Thalmor Consulate's revelation hung heavy in the air, a portent of the storm to come.
Elenwen's mind raced, grappling with the enormity of the news. If the Dragonborn truly lived, she had done the impossible: she'd plunged the sword into the Snake. She'd defied Arkay's cycle.
"What proof do you have of this?" Elenwen demanded, her voice sharp with urgency. She leaned forward, her eyes boring into Zephyrion's. A month ago, her daughter was killed, and now this Agent comes in to tell her that not only did she live, but he'd spoken to her. "I... I need evidence. This is not something I would just believe on a person's word."
"I told you, First Emissary. The Bee & Barb. She is there, in the Rift." Zephyrion's eyes darkened. "She is likely conspiring with those friends of hers."
"Her friends?" Elenwen tilted her head slightly, eager to listen.
"Ah, yes. A blue Khajiit, a half-Elven Knight, a triage of Knights, a Redguard Plague Doctor, and a Nord with a different accent." Zephyrion confirmed.
As soon as he said 'a blue Khajiit' Elenwen believed him. "Inigo the Brave..." she whispered. Indeed, he was her daughter's most ardent and constant follower. The revelation hit Elenwen like a physical blow. If Inigo was with her, then... "She is gathering an army, isn't she?" Elenwen concluded grimly, her hands tightening into fists.
"An army? Perhaps," Zephyrion said carefully, "But I would be more concerned about her allies, First Emissary. Those she has brought back from the dead..." His words trailed off, heavy with implication. "They come from the First Era, and the Third Era."
Elenwen's eyes widened, a chill running down her spine. "The First Era? That's... impossible." Yet even as she spoke the words, she knew they rang hollow. The Dragonborn had already defied the natural order by surviving death itself. What was to stop her from resurrecting ancient heroes?
Zephyrion nodded solemnly. "Indeed. And the Third Era... those are more recent, but no less formidable."
"I lived through the Third Era, Zephyrion." Elenwen stated firmly. "Whatever kind of Magic Cura has discovered... it goes beyond even my own knowledge." Elenwen turned to face her companion, a look of grave concern etched on her face. "If the Dragonborn can resurrect warriors from two different eras of history, imagine what she might do with them. She could... she could change the very course of time itself."
Zephyrion's eyes flashed dangerously. "First Emissary, if I may... we must not underestimate this threat."
"You fool." Elenwen ran a hand through her long, blonde hair as stressed bloomed a rose within her, its thorns coiling around her heart itself. "Do you know what this means? This means that she... she cannot be beaten. Not if she can resurrect herself. We cannot make an enemy of the Dragonborn."
Zephyrion's face flickered with conflicting emotions. "Then we must seek to understand, First Emissary. The Dragonborn wields powers we cannot comprehend, but perhaps we can find common ground. Or..." He trailed off, leaving the ominous implication unspoken.
Elenwen turned away, her shoulders tense as she processed the implications. "Common ground?" She scoffed, her voice laced with bitterness and fear. "With a woman who defies death itself? Gods." She stood upright and began to pace the floor, her hands behind her back.
Cura was her daughter; that much she could cling to. Perhaps she would spare her life? Or perhaps she could talk her down when the time of their conflict inevitably arises? The First Emissary's mind raced with the possibilities, each more terrifying than the last. She knew that the Dragonborn's power was not to be underestimated, and that any attempt to subdue her by force would likely end in disaster. Yet, the thought of allowing such a being to roam free, unchecked and unaccountable, filled her with a deep sense of dread.
Zephyrion watched as Elenwen paced, his expression grave. "First Emissary?"
Elenwen abruptly stopped and sighed with resignation. For now, they were at the calm before the storm: the Daedric Storm, and the eventual fallout of the conflict, when the Thalmor would now be outsiders in Skyrim, faced with an emboldened alliance between Imperials and Stormcloaks. If there was anything they could count on, it was that the war between Man and Mer would wage onwards again.
And now, the Dragonborn and Talos both stood against them, potentially. Elenwen turned to face Zephyrion, her eyes reflecting the tension that gripped her. "Zephyrion, we must consider our options carefully. The Dragonborn is a force unlike any other, and we cannot afford to be reckless." She paused, her gaze drifting to the distant mountains, as if seeking answers from the ancient peaks. "We need more information, more intelligence. We need to know her allies, her plans, her weaknesses."
Her heart ached at the thought. The Dragonborn that was haunting her was her own child, borne of herself and Ulfric. Now her very shadow casted fear upon the Thalmor Agents. Elenwen began to feel as though she'd created a monster. The hammer with which to drive the nails into her own coffin.
Zephyrion's face hardened as he processed Elenwen's words. "First Emissary, I understand the gravity of the situation. However, we must remember that the Dragonborn is not just a threat - she is also a powerful ally against the Daedric threat." He stepped closer, speaking in a low, urgent voice. "Perhaps, as you said, we could... reach out to her. Open a dialogue."
Elenwen inhaled sharply. "Yes. I will do it, myself. I must see her."
The words hung in the air between them, heavy with unspoken consequences. Zephyrion's eyes narrowed, his face a mask of concern and calculation. "First Emissary, I must advise against this course of action. The Dragonborn is unpredictable, and your... fear of her could cloud your judgment."
Elenwen's jaw clenched, her hand unconsciously moving to rest on the surface of her desk. "I understand the risks, Zephyrion. But I think, perhaps, she will be more likely to cooperate if she is given the dignity of speaking with the First Emissary." Her mind wandered to the day she first learned of the Dragonborn's existence, the day her world was irrevocably changed. She's spoken to her at length during her hosted Party, where Cura had attempted to blend in with the Nobility. Even then, Elenwen had her suspicions of the blonde-haired Half-Elf. She reminded her of herself too much. And, learning that she was Dragonborn eventually, was a shock above all.
The weight of her decision pressed down on her, but she steeled herself. "I will leave at once. We cannot afford to waste any more time."
Zephyrion sighed, running a hand through his silver hair. "Very well, First Emissary. But I insist on accompanying you. Your safety is paramount, and..."
Elenwen nodded, "I will not take a large company to see her. It will only spark concerns in the Rift. We cannot throw our weight around like we used to. A simple Fast Travel there and back will do."
Zephyrion sighed and leaned against the wall nearby, "As you wish, First Emissary."
The door to the Bee and Barb swung open, and a cloaked figure stepped inside, her face obscured by a black and gold hood. She glanced around the dimly lit tavern, her eyes scanning the patrons before settling on a group seated at a table in the corner. The Dragonborn sat at the head of the table, surrounded by her companions, their voices rising and falling in animated conversation.
As the hooded figure's eyes took in the form of the Dragonborn, she felt a creeping feeling of joy, surprise and horror in equal measure.
Cura was serene and listened intently to her friends, basking in this brief time of respite. Cura's eyes flicked to the newcomer as she entered, her hand instinctively moving to rest on the pommel of Dawnbreaker at her hip. The hooded figure's gaze lingered on their table for a moment before moving on, and Cura relaxed slightly, though she remained alert. She turned her attention back to the conversation at hand, a smile playing at the corners of her lips as Inigo regaled them with one of his bawdy jokes.
"Why did the Guard take an arrow to the knee?" Inigo asked.
Sabrina pursed her lips in thought for a moment. "Because he pointed his bow the wrong way?"
Inigo cackled at her response, but shook his head and delivered the answer: "Because he couldn't dodge the wedding proposal!"
Cura chuckled at Inigo's joke, her eyes crinkling at the corners. She could always rely on her friends to lighten the mood, even in the most trying of times. As the laughter subsided, she noticed the hooded figure once again. This time, the figure approached their table, her steps measured and deliberate. Cura's hand remained on Dawnbreaker, ready to draw if necessary.
As the figure approached closer, Cura's eyes widened with recognition: it was Elenwen, the First Emissary of the Thalmor. Her mother. She quickly turned to her friends, "Er, excuse me, guys. I will be back."
She nodded to Elenwen, and followed her upstairs for a private talk. She could see that the Altmer was pale as a ghost - the white a contrast to her usual golden tone.
"Mother, what's wrong?" Cura asked, her voice laced with awkward concern as she closed the door to the private room upstairs. Elenwen's hands trembled slightly as she removed her hood, revealing a face etched with worry and exhaustion.
"Cura, I... I can't believe it," Elenwen said, her words quavering. "you're... you're really here. In the flesh." Elenwen's eyes shone with unshed tears as she gazed upon her daughter, a mix of relief and disbelief washing over her features. She took a step closer, as if to reach out and touch Cura, to confirm that this moment was real and not just a figment of her imagination. "When I heard... when Zephyrion told me that you were alive, that you had been resurrected... I couldn't believe it. I thought I had lost you forever."
Cura crossed her arms as she listened intently to the Altmer's words. On the one hand, she knew that she was likely grieving her loss, but on the other hand, she knew that she was also a Thalmor Agent, which made it difficult to judge Elenwen's sincerity.
"Mother," Cura said, her voice measured, "I know you're surprised, but I need to know - what is this really about? I'm sure you didn't come here just to see if I was actually alive."
Elenwen's eyes flickered with something - pain, perhaps, or regret. She clasped her hands together, her fingers intertwining tightly as if seeking comfort.
"Cura, I... I don't know where to begin," Elenwen said, her words strained. "When you were killed by those Mythic Dawn cretins, I thought I had lost you for good. We all did. But now, to find out that you're not only alive but have escaped Coldharbour... it's a lot to process."
She took a deep breath, steeling herself. "I came here because I need to understand. What happened to you? How did you survive?"
Cura narrowed her eyes. She would have to twist the truth in many places, for there was no way Elenwen was merely asking out of the love in her heart. If being in Coldharbour has taught Cura anything, it's that the truth was often obscured under layers of lies and insincerity. She would tell her only what SHE wanted her to know.
Emboldened, the Dragonborn gazed into her mother's eyes. "Do you truly wish to know?" She said, her tone guarded. "Because if so, I warn you - it was... it was hell. Quite literally."
Elenwen's face contorted at the mention of Coldharbour, her eyes darting nervously. She took a shaky step closer to her daughter, her words barely above a whisper. "What... what did you see in there? What did you learn?"
"A lot of things," Cura begins to walk a semi-circle in front of her, back and forth. "the depravity of Mankind, the cruelty of the Elves. The displacement of Gods and the shattering of Time."
Elenwen's eyes widened at the mention of shattering time. She took another step closer to Cura, her voice barely audible. "What do you mean by the shattering of time? What happened in Coldharbour?"
Cura paused, her back now turned to her mother. She stared at the floor, gathering her thoughts before speaking. "There are many things I witnessed there, mother. Things I'm not even sure I understand myself. I saw the future... and the past." She turns on her heel and glares at her sternly. "I have battled gods. Umaril the Unfeathered among them. Surely you may recognize that name?"
Elenwen's face went pale. She knew exactly what that name meant - Umaril, the Ayleid Sorceror King who'd served Meridia. "That's... impossible," she breathed, taking an unsteady step back. "Umaril is a story, a myth from the first era. You can't possibly have... how?"
Cura's lips twisted into a faint, cold smile. "I also fought Pelinal Whitestrake."
Elenwen stared at her daughter, stunned into silence. The very names Cura spoke of were legends, stories told to frighten children and keep them in line. And yet, here was her daughter, claiming to have fought these mythical figures in Coldharbour. It defied all reason, and yet... some part of Elenwen couldn't help but believe it.
"You... you can't possibly mean to say that you battled Pelinal Whitestrake."
Cura reached for her Meridian Champion Robe's collar and pushed the fabric aside to reveal a deep groove in her trapezius muscle - a scar left from her duel with the Whitestrake. "His sword was broken, yet guarded with the winds of Kyne."
Elenwen's eyes followed the motion, her gaze landing on the scar. It was a brutal reminder of the battles Cura had faced, and the tales she spoke of were no mere fantasies. She took a deep breath, her mind racing with the implications of her daughter's words. "Cura," she began, her voice barely above a whisper, "what you're telling me... it's extraordinary. It's beyond anything I could have imagined."
If Cura would tell her about the Amulet of Kings, that would make her head spin even harder. Though, she would not. Nobody could be trusted with such information at the current time - least of all a Thalmor Agent. However, Cura could see the anxiety in Elenwen's eyes and decided not to recount further.
"I went through entire gauntlets, fighting against the strong and the terrifying." Cura said plainly. "Coldharbour... it was an experience I never truly wish to relive."
Elenwen nods solemnly, her eyes reflecting the sconcelight in the dimly lit chamber. "I can only imagine the horrors you've faced, Cura. And yet, here you stand, unbroken." She pauses, her voice growing firmer. "But tell me, what brings you to the Rift? I know you've gathered quite the company. What is your purpose here?"
Cura paid close attention to the wording of her question. It was fully designed to exploit an explanation for the newcomers who'd come with her to Skyrim. Cura would indulge her. "They are quite the company, aren't they?" Cura looked up at Elenwen, her piercing eyes glinting in the flickering light. "The purpose of our gathering is a solemn one. I have gathered warriors from various eras, united by a common goal. We seek to eradicate the threat to Tamriel. To protect the land."
Elenwen's brow furrowed as she considered Cura's words. She listened intently as Cura spoke of the threat facing Tamriel. Her expression grew increasingly grim as the realization dawned on her of the magnitude of the task at hand. "Eradicate the threat..." she murmured, almost to herself. "You speak of a great and perilous undertaking, Cura." She turned to face Cura directly, her piercing gaze meeting the Dragonborn's own unyielding stare. "And you intend to lead this quest yourself?"
Cura pressed her back to the wall. "Ideally, we're all on the same side, regarding Dagon." her voice lilted, as if inviting Elenwen to contradict the Alliance between the forces. "Aren't we?"
Elenwen's eyes narrowed as she studied Cura intently. "We are indeed all on the same side when it comes to opposing Dagon's influence," she conceded, her voice measured. "You must understand, Cura, that the Thalmor seek the same thing as the rest of Nirn. We seek a conclusion to these wars." Elenwen paused, her gaze shifting to the flickering candlelight, casting long, dancing shadows on the stone walls. "But we have our own ways, our own methods," she continued, her voice taking on a harder edge. "And I must insist, Cura, that we all maintain the integrity of our operations. The Thalmor does not condone these... unorthodox gatherings of yours." She turned back to Cura, her expression stern.
Cura narrowed her eyes. "Unorthodox gatherings?" She snarled, "You do not get to decide what I do or refrain from doing, Elenwen. If I wish to surround myself with allies I trust, that is not your damned concern."
Elenwen's face hardened, her composure cracking for a moment. "You dare speak to me in such a manner?" She stepped closer, her voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "I am still your Mother, Cura. I will not tolerate insubordination."
Cura's eyes flashed with anger, but she maintained her composure. "Hah. You don't get to hold that over me. You of all people." She took a step back, her posture relaxing slightly. She crossed her arms, a defiant expression on her face.
Elenwen's jaw clenched, but she took a deep breath, visibly trying to calm herself. She sighed somberly, resigning herself to the truth. "You're right. I left you on the doorstep of another when you were young. I know."
Cura, her voice laced with bitter resignation, continued, "You know nothing of what I've endured, Mother. And yet, rather than showing genuine care for a change, you merely come to me to interrogate me. It figures."
Elenwen's face contorted, a complex interplay of emotions - pain, anger, and something else, perhaps regret. "Cura, I..." She faltered, her composure slipping for a moment before she regained control. "You have no idea of the pressure I face. The expectations. The burden of my position."
Cura scoffed, her posture rigid with tension. "No, I don't. And I don't care to, either." She turned away, her back to her mother. "You left me to be raised by others, like I was a burden to be thrown away, out of your own cowardice. To survive in a world you couldn't even imagine. And now, when I've made something of myself, you show up to question my methods? To judge me? To hope to gleam some secret from my words, to be used against me at a later time, no doubt." Her words were laced with bitterness and a deep-seated anger that had been building for years.
Elenwen's hand twitched, as if she wanted to reach out but stopped herself. Her eyes flashed with a mix of hurt and anger at Cura's words. She took a deep breath, visibly trying to rein in her emotions. "Cura, I... I understand that you're angry. And you have every right to be. But I'm not here to judge you or to use you. I'm here because I... I care about you. I always have, even if I haven't always shown it in the best way."
Elenwen's words hung in the air, a heavy weight of unresolved tension between them. Cura remained still, her back turned to her mother, a rigid posture that spoke of deep-seated pain and unresolved emotions. The night air was heavy with the weight of their history, a silent testament to the years of separation and misunderstanding.
After a long, tense moment, Cura spoke, her voice a low, bitter murmur. "Care? Is that what you call it, Mother?"
Elenwen flinched slightly at Cura's harsh words, but held her ground. "I know my actions have not always shown it, but yes, I do care, deeply. The burden of my position has weighed heavily on me, and I feared I would be unable to provide for you in the way a mother should. I feared what my coworkers would have done to you." She paused, taking a shuddering breath as she fought to maintain her composure. "But I never stopped thinking about you, Cura. Not for one day. I counted the years as they passed and wondered about you, constantly. It was a black stain on my heart; an incurable sickness in my own Life's Vein."
Elenwen's words hung heavy in the air, a painful admission that cut through the tension. Cura remained still, her back turned, shoulders tense. The weight of their shared history pressed down on them both, a suffocating silence that begged to be broken.
After a long moment, Cura spoke, her voice barely above a whisper. "I don't know what to believe anymore, Mother. I've been through too much, seen too much." She partially turned her face to her, "And you have the tongue of a serpent." As Cura turned to face Elenwen, her expression a mix of hurt and accusation, the two women stood in a charged silence.
Elenwen met Cura's gaze steadily, her own eyes shimmering with unshed tears. "Cura, I... I understand your doubts, your pain," she said, her voice soft with a mixture of sorrow and resolve. "I cannot undo the past, but I am here now. I have come to you because we face a greater threat - a darkness that transcends our personal conflicts. I..." She paused, seeming to search for the right words.
"And I know you, Cura. I know what you are capable of. I know how strong, how driven, how righteous you are." She reached out a hand, not quite touching, but close enough that the distance felt charged. "Perhaps... perhaps we could start anew, as mother and daughter. Not in the way we once were, but in a way that acknowledges all that has happened and all that we've become." Her face was a map of hope and trepidation, her features etched with years of regret.
Cura stared at Elenwen's extended hand, conflicting emotions warring within her. The air grew thick with the weight of their shared history and the unspoken possibilities of reconciliation. After a moment of internal conflict, Cura finally took Elenwen's hand, her fingers wrapping around it with a gentle but firm pressure. "We can try, Mother," she said, speaking softly. "But I need to know - truly know - that you're committed to this. No more half-truths, no more secrets."
Elenwen nodded, her grip on Cura's hand tightening slightly. "I swear it, my child."
The veracity of her words remained to be seen, but Cura was still willing to give her a chance. After all, she'd redeemed some of the greatest scum on Tamriel. If somebody like Inquisitor Pepe was capable of change, perhaps the same could be said for Elenwen, as well.
As Cura took Elenwen's hand, a sense of warmth spread through her, a mixture of relief and uncertainty. The tension in the air seemed to dissipate like the morning mist, replaced by a tentative hope. Elenwen's eyes, once cold and calculating, now held a vulnerability that Cura hadn't seen before.
"I'm glad you're willing to give this a chance, Cura." Elenwen's voice was soft, tinged with a hint of emotion that she rarely allowed to surface. "I know I have much to atone for, and I won't pretend that it will be easy. But I am sincere in my desire to forge a new path forward, one where we can work together to protect Tamriel from the darkness that threatens it."
Cura nodded slowly, her grip on Elenwen's hand still firm. "I want to believe you, Mother." She sighs lightly. "I am willing to work together with the Thalmor if it means stopping Mehrunes Dagon's resurgence." She slowly releases her Mother's hand. "But after that... that remains to be seen."
In truth, Cura had no love for the Aldmeri Dominion. She did not trust any of them; especially with all the parallels she had been able to draw between them and the Alessian Order. However, she had come to realize that Mankind wasn't kind to the Elves, either. It was a vicious cycle that seemed unending. And she felt, quite literally, caught in the middle of it all, sandwiched between the two warring halves of her heritage. In the end, it was the pursuit of a greater good - the protection of Tamriel from the darkness that threatened it - that outweighed her personal doubts and fears. She had always been a protector, and this was no different. She would do what was necessary to safeguard the people of Tamriel, even if it meant working alongside those she didn't fully trust.
Elenwen felt a measure of relief, herself. Knowing a tenth of what Cura was capable of, it granted her a tad of peace to see that she was willing to cooperate, or at the very least see her in a less-than-hostile manner.
The two women stood in silence for a moment, the weight of their shared history and the uncertain future hanging between them. Finally, Elenwen spoke again, her words laced with both hope and trepidation. "Cura, I know I have much to prove to you. But I swear to you, on my honor as an Aldmeri official and as your mother, that I will do everything in my power to support you against the forces of Dagon."
Cura's expression softened slightly at her mother's words, though her stance remained guarded. "Your word is... noted, Mother. But I need more than just words. I need to see concrete action from the Thalmor. No more half-measures or political games." She crossed her arms, her armor glinting in the torchlight. "If you truly want to work with me, then prove it. Let them return the Statue of Talos here in Riften."
Elenwen, standing tall and regal in her black and gold Thalmor garb, took a moment to absorb her daughter's challenge. Her expression remained composed, but Cura could see the slight tightening of her jaw, the faint spark of defiance in her eyes. "Are you serious?"
The two women faced off, the tension in the room palpable as their history beared down on them. Elenwen's gaze narrowed, her fingers clenching slightly at her sides. "The Thalmor would never agree to such a bold move. We've worked too hard to distance ourselves from that... that relic."
Cura's posture remained rigid, her armor catching the light of the torches in the room. She took a seat on the chair within the small chamber, her posture exuding an air of confidence. "If you truly wish to work with the Legion and the Stormcloaks, surely such a concession would be... small?"
Elenwen's face darkened, her composure slipping for a moment. "Small? You speak of the very symbol of rebellion against the Aldmeri Dominion, and you call it small?" She paced, her black and gold robes swishing softly against the stone floor. "The Thalmor would never agree to such a move. It would be seen as a direct betrayal of everything we stand for."
"Tell me straight; what do you stand for?" Cura leaned forward in her chair, her voice falling with impatience. "I wish for the unbridled truth. None of the commercialized 'we are here to help Skyrim during this time of transition' nonsense that Ancano spouted."
Elenwen halted her pacing and turned to face Cura directly, her gaze intense and unwavering. "You wish to know the unvarnished truth, Daughter? Very well. The Aldmeri Dominion seeks to unify all of Tamriel under a single banner, to usher in a new age of Elven supremacy. Skyrim, with its stubborn attachment to the Old Ways and its misguided devotion to Talos, stands as a thorn in our side."
Cura slowly stood up, and nodded silently. She'd figured as much. "Your robes are the wrong colour. They should be Red and Gold."
Elenwen's eyes narrowed slightly, her voice a mix of surprise and disapproval. "You dare to criticize my attire, Cura? The gold and black of the Aldmeri Dominion is a symbol of our power and unity. Red and gold are the colours of the outdated Empire, a relic of the past that we have moved beyond."
"Or so you'd think." Cura muttered under her breath.
Cura's whisper echoed slightly in the vast chamber, the words barely audible yet laced with bitterness. Elenwen, though she had not heard the muttering, sensed the shift in Cura's demeanor. She turned away from the window, her gaze sweeping the room before settling on Cura once more.
"You have doubts, Cura," Elenwen said, her voice soft yet firm.
Cura nodded calmly. "In theory, if the Aldmeri Dominion emerged from the ashes of this Daedric Incursion, and they held victory over the Empire of Titus Mede II, what would that 'Elven Supremacy' look like? Half-Breeds being butchered, I'd imagine? Perhaps all the non-Elven races, like the Khajiit, the Imga, the Argonians, too, would also be executed? Perhaps you would seek to strip the Divines of their ties to Mankind?"
Elenwen's eyes flashed with anger at Cura's words, her hand instinctively reaching for the dagger at her side. "You speak of things you know nothing about, Daughter. The Aldmeri Dominion seeks to unite all of Tamriel under the banner of the Altmer, yes, but that does not mean the annihilation of all other races. We would rule, not as conquerors, but as enlightened guardians, guiding the lesser races to a higher purpose."
"Then why is your hand hovering over your dagger?" Cura gestured towards her waist.
Elenwen's eyes followed Cura's gaze to her own waist, where her hand rested on the pommel of her dagger. She quickly withdrew her hand, her expression softening slightly. "A habit from years of training and service," she explained, her voice tinged with a hint of apology. "The Aldmeri Dominion is not without its critics, and I have often had to defend myself, both verbally and physically."
Cura gently set aside her Elven Mace, Dawnbreaker, Auriel's Bow, and Spellbreaker, laying them on the table behind her, and she turned back to face Elenwen. "Sorry. I sometimes forget how threatening I may seem."
Elenwen's posture relaxed slightly, though her eyes remained watchful. "You have... changed, Cura. In ways I never thought possible. Your power, your conviction - they are formidable." She stepped closer, speaking in a softer tone. "But tell me, what drives this... obsession with the Thalmor? What makes you so certain that this is the path you must take?"
Cura's face hardened, her hands clenching at her sides. "Skyrim is my home, my heart. I've seen the people here suffer, seen them fight for their land and their freedom. And I won't stand by and let anyone, neither Daedra, Vampire, Dragon, nor Rival Foreign Power take that away from them."As Cura spoke, her voice was laced with a mix of determination and frustration.
Elenwen listened intently to Cura's impassioned speech, her eyes never leaving her daughter's face. When Cura finished, Elenwen took a deep breath, as if steeling herself for what she was about to say. "I understand your passion, Cura. I do. You take after your father in more ways than you realize." She sighed and readjusted her robe at the collar. "Cura, the Aldmeri Dominion does not seek conquest - not in the way that you think. Our passion is born of centuries of being under the foot of man. Ever since Talos, as you know, brought doom upon us with the Numidium. Long before that, Pelinal Whitestrake's pogroms against Elvenkind - guilty or innocent. Many of our numbers were culled by his hand. The... Shezzarine... as men have taken to calling this entity - a Mortal who bears the Spirit of Lorkhan - Shezzar - Shor." Elenwen sighed, "We have grown tired of seeing this spirit worshipped under many names. Talos being the most recent."
"So, it's not even Talos by virtue of being Talos." Cura tried to understand. "It's what he embodies."
Cura nodded, her expression growing more serious. "From where I stand, he embodies the spirit of unity, of the people coming together to fight against an overwhelming force. That's what the people of Skyrim see in him, in the Dragonborn, in me."
Elenwen's eyes flashed with a hint of anger. "Unity, yes. But at what cost?"
"I take it you know who the Alessian Order were, then?" Cura asked with a light head tilt. She was uncertain as to how long-lived Elenwen was, but to her understanding, she was once a humble Innkeeper in the Summerset Isles during the Second Era.
Elenwen nodded, her expression softening. "Indeed, I do. The Alessian Order was a powerful religious organization that rose to prominence during the First Era. They were founded by the Prophet Marukh and were dedicated to the worship of the One, particularly Akatosh and Alessia. Their influence extended far and wide, even shaping the early history of the Empire." She paused, her eyes reflecting on the past. Then her expression soured. "They killed many, many Elves. There were Ayleids who survived by fleeing to the Summerset Isles. The Alessians cared little for whether the Ayleids had aided man, or enslaved them. Ayleids from the peaceful Delodiil were killed just the same as the cruel Ayleids from Abagarlas. It made little difference to them."
"I know." Cura said somberly, her eyes softening. Cura's gaze drifted away from Elenwen, her mind's eye painting a grim picture of the past. The Alessian Order, with their fanatical zeal, had been a scourge to the Elves and other Races.
The memories of their persecution were etched deeply into the collective consciousness of the Aldmeri, a wound that still ached centuries later.
"And yet." Cura slowly stood up again. "The cycle seems to threaten to repeat anew." She sighed and looked at Elenwen. "But for now, let's focus on protecting this land."
Elenwen nodded solemnly, her expression grave. "Indeed, we must. The Thalmor's methods may be questionable, but our goal is the same as yours - to protect Tamriel from the Daedric threat." She paused, her eyes searching Cura's face. "I know you have your reservations about the Thalmor, and rightfully so. But I ask you to trust me, if not the Thalmor as a whole."
Cura's eyes narrowed slightly, her hand unconsciously moving to rest on the hilt of her Dawnbreaker. "Trust is earned, Mother. Not given freely." She sighed, running a hand through her hair. "I understand the need for unity against the Daedra, but I won't blindly follow the Thalmor's lead. We must find a middle ground."
Elenwen's lips pressed into a thin line, her posture stiffening.
Cura chuckled lightly following this brusque assertion, and she smiled with admission. "In fact, I wouldn't blindly follow the Legion or the Stormcloaks, either."
The truth was, Cura had her doubts about all the factions vying for power in this land. The Thalmor's methods leaved much to be desired, with their lies and subterfuge, as did the Empire's fickle, bureaucratic nature, and its lack of tact; if it weren't for Alduin, ironically, the Legion would have had her head. And while the Stormcloaks may have seemed to have more noble intentions, their methods often veered dangerously close to fanaticism against other races.
Cura closed her eyes, and a feeling of serenity flooded into her heart. "I place my path in the hands of the Gods. Not in the hands of men, unless they deem it so." As Cura's eyes remained closed, a soft breeze picked up, rustling the leaves outside the window. The sound was calming, like the whispers of ancient spirits offering their guidance. The serenity she felt was not merely an emotion, but a profound sense of rightness, as if the very air around her agreed with her decision.
Meanwhile, Elenwen watched her daughter, her expression softening. "You... you truly believe that, don't you?" Elenwen's voice was a gentle whisper, almost reverent. "Your conviction, Cura, is both inspiring and daunting. I have seen the power of the Gods in your actions, and I know that they watch over you... After all that you've endured, there is no other explanation for you..." her voice broke lightly. "...you still being here." She slowly reached towards her daughter and embraced her.
The moment was tender, a rare show of affection between them. Cura stiffened slightly at first, unused to such physical contact from her mother, but then slowly relaxed into the embrace. The air around them seemed to grow still, as if the very world held its breath, waiting to see what would happen next.
Elenwen held Cura close, savoring the closeness she had longed for. "I'm sorry, my daughter. I'm so sorry for the pain I caused you. I let my fear and pride blind me to what really mattered. I've missed so much of your life, and I'll never get those moments back."
She pulled back slightly to look at Cura, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. "I promise you, now; that you will not face this threat alone. Regardless of our allegiances, I won't let them kill you a second time. They will not rob you of your life again." The room fell silent, the only sound the soft rustling of the wind outside. Elenwen's words hung in the air, a solemn vow that seemed to settle like a protective shield around them both. Cura's face remained still, her thoughts a swirling storm of emotions - anger, doubt, and a fragile glimmer of hope.
After a long moment, she spoke, her words measured and controlled. "Your words... they mean something to me, Mother." Elenwen slowly stepped back. "My Outpost is Northwest of Windhelm - it was formerly Fort Kastav, but we are appropriating it. Come and see me any time you wish. If you have anything you need, the Thalmor will aid you."
Cura's brow furrowed at this unexpected turn of events. She hadn't expected such a sudden and earnest offer from her mother, but her instincts - honed by years of combat - screamed that there was more to this than met the eye. The Thalmor's actions rarely aligned with altruism.
Elenwen must have noticed her daughter's unease, because she quickly added, "It's not an offer of alliance or allegiance. Just... motherly concern."
Cura sighed, "Very well. I was thinking of going to Windhelm regardless. Perhaps I may at some point go to the Thalmor Outpost."
Elenwen nodded, a small smile playing at the corners of her lips. "I would like that, Cura. Truly." She turned to leave, her robes swishing softly against the stone floor. At the doorway, she paused, glancing back over her shoulder. "Be careful out there, my daughter. The world is a dangerous place, and you have many enemies."
With that, she was gone, leaving Cura alone with her thoughts in the dimly lit room. The Dragonborn leaned back in her chair, considering what Elenwen was saying. She'd never trusted the Thalmor, and even though her mother appeared to want to gain her trust, she could not. Not entirely. Not ever. But Cura hoped, deep down, that she was sincere.
After sitting in quiet contemplation, Cura gathered her arms and turned to leave the room.