skyrimkinkmeme | Meme Announcements!

Meme Announcements!

ANNOUNCEMENTS: UPDATED 12/16/2017

Happy Holidays, fellow Kinkmemers! I have returned and have no reasonable excuse for my absence except LIFE. I will be working on updating the archives. If anyone sees anything amiss, please let me know.

I am also hoping to find another Mod and an Archivist.

The more dedicated people we have in this Meme the less chance of it dying. I admit that being the sole keeper of the Meme is not great for the fandom. If something were to happen to me, for good, this place would go the way of the Fallout Kink Meme. Let's not let that happen! If anyone would be interested in Modding/Archiving, please drop me a line. Thanks! <3

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

Ohmigod please do continue, A!A, at whatever pace of writing suits you. The internal lives of your characters are so damn good - this is the Skyrim fic, and specifically the Ulfric fic, that I didn't know I was waiting for. Also the pacing is fine, and I am really enjoying how you're cutting from key event to key event - avoiding repetition by skipping Bellamy's plan-making for plan-execution is a very good choice, and the way you're developing the various dynamics through it is wonderful. Fics that go straight into the porn are ten a penny, but few can pull of what you're managing here. Hell, you're making it look easy!

Thank you for the encouragement. I'm glad you are reading it.

Thank you for the encouragement. comments like yours keep me writing. Thank you again.

I'm so glad you haven't abandoned this story! I really love it. Dare I say, it's one of my favorites here. I mostly loathe Ulfric, but he's very intriguing all the same. You capture him excellently.

YIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIISSSSHH. MOOOOOOAARRR.

(Side note: glad you aren't dead, dear A!A. Don't you dare disappear on us for another few months, mmmmmk?)

Keep calm and F5 on!

this is sweet and perfect! Happy holidays! wishes for a happy new year!

I need more of this as badly as I need air. Gasping in need over here.

I will update this very soon I promise. =)

Ariella and Vilkas stood in front of Kynesgrove. Vilkas’ hands had been healed fully for almost a week but this was their first time leaving Jorrvaskr since Ariella had asked him to rest.

“Are you sure?” Ariella asked again, letting her pack fall to the ground. Vilkas looked at her and smiled.

“It makes the most sense.” Vilkas repeated. They’d had this conversation many times already. Ariella sighed and picked up her pack again walking towards the inn. The new moon wasn’t until the next night so they had some time to prepare.

Vilkas rolled his eyes and followed Ariella to the inn. “I’m trusting you on this.” Ariella said when he caught up.

“I know.” Ariella thought that the next dragon would be seen at a different place. Vilkas seemed so positive that she trusted him, mostly. Though she had her doubts Vilkas seemed so positive that she gave him a chance.

If he was wrong they would have to wait till the next new moon. When they looked at the records the accounts of the Dragon’s appearance were conflicting. Yet all accounts seemed to recall a black dragon, the same black dragon Ariella saw at Helgen. They decided that black Dragon had to be Alduin and if Alduin was being seen every new moon then they knew how to locate him and hopefully kill him.

All this would hopefully be over soon enough.

Ariella paid for a room for two nights and followed the innkeeper. She sat down on the bed and pulled some books out of her bag. Vilkas closed the door as he entered at sat down on the bed.

Ariella glanced at him and opened a book.

Vilkas opened up the map again and looked at it. “I’m positive I’m right.”

“That’s why we’re here, Vilkas.” Ariella said turning the page. “I just hope you’re right.” Part of her hoped he wasn't. After the Dragons were dealt with and the Library got word Ariella would be forced to do her original duties then head home. With no more dragons to study in the field she would probably have to return to Daggerfall.

welcome back again and best wishes for the new year! : D no Ariella can not leave Vilkas, she has a destiny to fulfill, and a man whose soul is to be saved! Ahhhh look good story for the rest!

Reljir studied Aelas shield before making his way to the living quarters of Jorrvaskr. Meeting Eorlund up at the Sky forge had been educational. Once he realized Reljir was the newest companion, the old blacksmith had discussed the companions hierarchy in great detail. Then he began to gossip revealing personal tidbits about the companions.

Reljir learned the alpha’s name Skjor. He found out Aela had been admiring an ebony bow acquired from an adventurer. It was expensive, but he felt it was worth the coins. Eorlund promised to send it over to the Drunken Huntsman to be cleaned an refurbished . It would be ready in a few days.

The Sky Forge itself fascinated Reljir. Its old natural magic was tied to the land. Ansei warriors were taught basic blacksmithing. He knew how to make and repair his weapons and armor. Eorlund had agreed to teach him advanced blacksmithing in exchange for coin and help with the small labor intensive jobs around the forge.

He had agreed to deliver a shield to Aela. Eorlund needed to attend to his wife who was in mourning. Tilma the caretaker of Jorrvaskr, directed him to Aela’s rooms. Her door was ajar and opened further when he knocked. Reljir found her bedroom gave clues to the personality of Aela herself.

The walls were decorated with animal pelts and a pair of large antlers. A weapons display case highlighted an elven bow and a dog-eared copy of The Marksmanship Lesson. A table pushed into a corner displayed a couple of animal pelts. Reljir had the impression they were prized trophies.

However, it was Aela herself that most captured his attention. She pinned him with those gray eyes of hers and asked “Is your blood running hot?”. Blindsided! “You are making it hotter” he answered in a suggestive tone. Skjor standing just behind Aela had just taken a swig of mead. He choked spewing mead everywhere.

Aela briefly looked over her shoulder at him, before turning back to Reljir. “I knew I recognized a hunter in you!’. It was unclear if she was suggesting herself as prey. Meanwhile, Skjor had regained control of himself and was looking at Reljir with something akin to pity. He mouthed the words “you have it bad!” before stepping forward to massage Aela’s shoulders.
“Our newest whelp has a crush on you” he said throwing Reljir a triumphant glance.

He had underestimated his competition. The male werebear were very open about courtship. Reljir didn’t mind Aela knowing he wanted her. He didn’t even attempt to hide his feelings when he looked into her eyes. Her eyes widened, then narrowed. She blushed seemingly at a lost for words. Feeling her tension, Reljir offered her the shield.

She seemed eager to change the subject “Ah good I’ve been expecting this. So the old man saw something in you”. Skjor followed Aela’s lead “You impressed Vilkas with your arm whelp. That’s not an easy feat.. ” He frowned as he realized he had complimented his rival. Aela smirked “I heard about that. You really Trounced him eh?”. “I wouldn’t say that around Vilkas” Skjor suggested . Aela said “He deserved it; he was getting bigheaded”. She turned to Reljir “So tell me could you take Vilkas in a real fight?”. Reljir lowered his head modestly “I don’t like to be boastful”. The three of them laughed.

Aela suggested they call Farkus to show Reljir around and introduce him to the others. He would have been content to stay and hang out with her. But he went along with it. The next few days passed quickly as Reljir settled in and began bonding with the companions. It started with Ria and Njada. Impressed by his fight with Vilkas, they asked to train with him.

Farkas had jumped into the mix, happy to have a skilled training partner. Vilkas began by hanging around the porch watching the two of them train. But even he was not proof against the temptation to train with Reljir. Aela had been out on a job with Athis. By the time they returned Reljir had left for Broken Fang Cave his first job as a companion. Two days later he returned tired and dirty; and that’s when things really got interesting.

It was well after midnight when Reljir climbed the steps towards Jarvaskar. He took a detour to the small structure near the training yard which housed the kitchen and bathing area. A large fireplace complete with a cooking spit dominated the back wall. Herbs and garlic hung from the rafters. Barrels of cooking ingredients and crates filled with mead lined one wall. The opposite wall held a cupboard and an area for dishwashing. A table used as a work surface was in the middle of the room.

Near the entrance was a tub pushed against the wall, a shelf containing cloths for bathing and drying, and a small table with a large basin on it. The fire had been banked but it was still warm in the room. Tilma had left buckets of warm water near the fireplace. He poured water into the basin near the door before stripping down to his loincloth. He began to wash his body, removing the grime from the journey. He was engrossed in his bath when he heard a noise and then her scent hit him.

Alea had spent the afternoon hunting testing out her ebony bow. She had considered returning it, but was afraid to offend her new shield-brother. He was an outsider and she didn’t know his customs. Plus she hadn’t seen him since she discovered the bow. Njada had been happy to tell her the source of the gift. And so she had tested it. It was perfectly balanced but also covered with his scent. She didn’t quite know what to make of Reljir except his scent affected her in ways she refused to analyze.

He was easy to look at with a natural charisma. Lately he had managed to occupy her thoughts to a disturbing degree. She had even found herself comparing him to Skjor. Skjor was safe, comfortable. Reljir seemed kind and soft-spoken, but everything about him screamed danger in a way that enticed her and her wolf spirit. She felt pent up and on edge. Skjor must have sensed that because he suggested a different type of hunt. And what a hunt! Skjor was bigger than her in wolf form running ahead to bring down an elk.

She was approaching the kill when she got a whiff of his pheromones. Suddenly she stopped confused. Her wolf seemed to be cringing repelled by the alpha male. She started to back away slowly. Skjor didn’t seem to notice. He was to busy feasting on the elk. She headed home. It was past midnight when Aela emerged from the underforge. Still caught in the euphoria of the hunt she made her way up to the training yard. She caught a familiar irresistible scent which she felt compelled to follow. She stopped just inside the kitchen her eyes riveted on the man in front of her.

Reljir stood over the wash basin facing away from the door. His entire back was covered with an exquisitely detailed tattoo of an unknown mythical winged creature holding a curved sword. The creature featured a tail which disappeared into the waistband of his loincloth only to emerge from the bottom and wrap around his leg. The movement of his muscles made the tattoo appear to move as if it were alive.

The scene woke something salacious in her. She felt the urge to run her tongue across the creature lapping up the water running down his back . His hands went to his loincloth fingers fiddling with the ties. Her mouth went dry, she let out a breath. He stilled turning to look over his shoulder locking eyes with her. She realized he was not wearing his Alik’r hood. He looked younger his dark reddish hair wet and dripping. Her wolf felt almost giddy as it started to stir heating her blood. Later she would never be able to say what urged her to ask “Do you have a woman in your life?”.

*Aela* sorry typo

Summary: Elisif's free and is putting the Reach behind her. With dragons to slay and a Alduin-beating Shout to find, Elisif heads for High Hrothgar... but some doors are closed to even a queen.

A/N: Back to the main quest! It's the Paarthurnax bit - I have changed the dialogue and axed a lot of the Dovah, but the basics are unchanged. I have also come up with a way of skipping the dull bits of the main quest (and by the Nine, Discerning the Transmundane was dull...). Hopefully this will speed things up a bit...

High Hrothgar loomed up in front of them, looking much as it ever had. Elisif shivered in the cold, her Blades armour not really keeping her as warm as she'd have hoped. Erandur wasn't faring much better – he'd exchanged his robes for a set of Blades armour but it didn't entirely suit him and it was clear he wasn't used to wearing heavy gear. All the same it was keeping him safe from wild animal attacks.

There'd been another troll waiting for them, maybe the mate of the one Jordis and Ria had killed the first time Elisif had come this way. That time she'd been terrified. Now? Now she'd seen a lot worse than trolls. She'd Shouted it to the ground and carved it to pieces with Dawnbreaker, Erandur's fire magic in support. It had died in minutes with barely a mark left on Elisif.

“Are you all right?” Erandur asked, patting Elisif on the shoulder as she stared down at the dead troll.

“I'm fine,” Elisif said, wondering why she could kill something and feel nothing, no pity, no remorse, not a thing. “I just... could never have done this a few weeks ago without going to pieces. Or getting killed. Now I just took it on without even flinching and barely care it's dead. What's happening to me, Erandur?”

Erandur didn't really seem to know what to say to that, other than to give her a reassuring hug.

“You're turning into a warrior,” he told her. “Whether for good or ill, only you can decide that. But you are stronger than you were. Fearless. Given what you've got ahead of you, I think that's a good thing. You'll need to be both. Just don't forget why you're doing all this.”

Torygg, the unbidden thought came to her, the memory of his smiling face flashing through her mind. But the details were hazy and she found there were gaps in her memory and that scared her. He was the love of her life, how could she forget what he looked like so easily? She had no such problem remembering Ulfric.

“To save the world,” she whispered. “Make Skyrim a better place. Stop the war.”

“All good things,” Erandur said. “But what does your heart say, Elisif? What do you really want?”

“My husband back. But I can't have that, can I?” Elisif sighed, and the knowledge hurt as it always did... but the tears weren't coming as readily as they used to and that frightened her. “All I can do is avenge him and save everyone else. I don't think I'm getting a happy ending.”

“Don't say that,” Erandur said gently. “You might get one yet. Lady Mara won't have forgotten you. Even if we can't give you Torygg back, who is to say you won't find someone new? You are a beautiful young woman, you're bound to have suitors at some point, after all this is done.”

The mere thought made Elisif want to be sick. Courtship gifts, most likely insincere protestations of love, having to let someone kiss her and hold her and have sex with her just to continue the line... no. She wasn't ready. She could handle men as friends, getting reassuring hugs off Erandur or chatting with Esbern or getting pounced on by Cicero, or even bantering with Brynjolf, who wasn't really interested despite the flirty comments he liked to dish out, and Elisif liked it that way.

For another lover, for having someone in her bed again, for dealing with suitors who probably just saw her as a ticket to wealth and power... absolutely not.

“Not yet,” Elisif said fiercely. “Tell Mara it can wait. I've got dragons to kill.”

“So you have,” said Erandur, bowing his head a little in acknowledgement. “Come on, we're nearly there, you said?”

They were. Elisif led on, hoping the Greybeards could actually help her. They knew all the words of power, right? They'd know this Shout, surely? She hoped so, because if they didn't, she wasn't sure who else possibly could.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

“What do you mean, no??” Elisif cried. She'd come all this way, asked nicely and Arngeir was refusing to help? Just because she'd said she'd been helped by the Blades.

“No, Dragonborn,” Arngeir said firmly. “I will not help you. Not until you return to the path of wisdom.” He turned away, back to his book, pointedly ignoring Elisif. Leaving her at her wits end. How was she supposed to defeat Alduin without it? The world was going to end, and it would be Arngeir's fault, stupid, stubborn, annoying joor, she should fling him down, teach him a lesson about defying a dragon...

“But I need to learn it!” Elisif cried. “I need to be able to shout a dragon out of the sky! Teach me the damn Shout!”

Arngeir did look up then, eyebrows raised and Erandur had a hand on her arm.

“Elisif,” he said quietly. “Elisif, he's in charge of the Greybeards, don't shout at him.”

Belatedly, Elisif recollected herself, realising she was getting perilously close to crossing the line. She was getting so used to just being able to Shout people down or out of the way, having someone say no was something she'd stopped getting used to. Was this what had happened to Ulfric? Had he got carried away by the Thu'um?

“I'm sorry, I just... look what have you got against the Blades anyway? They're helping me!”

“Helping you? Perhaps, for now. The Blades say they serve the Dragonborn – but they do not! They never have. Their Akaviri ancestors carried out a purge of dragons once before when they first arrived here, and now dragons have returned, they will do it again, with your help!” Arngeir was glaring at her from under his hood, and Elisif's guilt was back in full force. He was an old man at the end of the day, he didn't deserve being shouted at.

“I'm not – look, I'm High Queen, or will be,” she said. “The Blades don't tell me what to do. And I don't want to kill every dragon in Skyrim. I just want them to stop burning down villages and killing people! That's all, Arngeir. Please, I'm Queen, I need to protect my country. People are dying out there!”

Arngeir's expression had softened a little but he still didn't look convinced. All the same, he sighed and shrugged.

“Elisif. I cannot help you. I cannot teach you this Shout... because I do not know it. It is called Dragonrend... but its words of power are lost to us.”

Lost to even the Greybeards... Elisif sank into the chair across from him, stunned.

“But I thought you knew all the words of power,” she whispered, feeling lost. If even the Greybeards didn't know this Dragonrend Shout, how would she ever learn it? The world was doomed.

“Not the words to Dragonrend,” Arngeir said. “They are lost to us. Elisif, we cannot help...” Then he sighed, as if resigned to the inevitable. “But our leader, Paarthurnax... he might.”

“Paarthurnax...” Elisif breathed. Arngeir had told her a bit about him when she'd returned the Horn of Jurgen Windcaller. He was the fifth Greybeard, Master of the Way of the Voice, a hermit who lived right on the top of the mountain. An odd name, Elisif hadn't heard its like before. Wasn't Nordic. Didn't sound Imperial or Breton or any kind of Mer either, not that Elisif knew anyway. Argonian? Maybe. At any rate, looked like she was about to find out. “I'm going to meet him?”

“You're not ready,” Arngeir said, eyes still cold. “You weren't before and you're still not ready. But thanks to the Blades, you now have questions only he can answer.” He got to his feet, motioning for Elisif to follow. “Come on, come to the courtyard. Let us teach you to open the way to him.”

Not as perilous as Arngeir had said. Sure, it was cold, and poor Erandur was freezing. But a few ice wraiths? Nothing to killing them, not with Dawnbreaker, not once you actually hit them. Add in Erandur's fire spells and they all died swift deaths.

So that aside, reaching the top wasn't as hard as claimed, not once the mist had been Shouted away. Finally they were there, on the plateau right near the summit, a Word Wall looming up ahead of them. Elisif ran over to it, wondering what was written on it.

Nothing. Not a carving anywhere. Just a blank Word Wall and nothing else up here. No sign of life or anything living up here, no house or even a tent.

“Erandur,” Elisif called back, starting to panic a bit. “Erandur, where's Paarthurnax?”

Erandur looked up at the sky, fire flashing into his hands as a shadow swept over them, winds whistling past them and whipping up the snow, the ground shaking as a huge grey dragon came in to land next to them.

Erandur swore in a most unpriestly way, staggering back and coughing in the snow flurry. Elisif had shielded her face, slowly looking up and reaching for Dragonbane. Except the dragon hadn't attacked yet. And from the way it was looking at her, she had a feeling it wasn't going to.

“Er...” she said hesitantly. “Hello? I'm looking for Paarthurnax...”

“You have found him,” the dragon answered, sounding actually curious. “Greetings, wundeniik. What brings you to my strunmah, my mountain?”

So that was what a strunmah was! Elisif felt inordinately pleased at finally knowing that, although the wave of homesickness for the Blue Palace was less pleasing. All the same... a dragon! A real live dragon, not trying to kill her... and Paarthurnax was a dragon, the Greybeards were led by a dragon! No wonder hardly anyone was allowed up here.

“Oh my goodness,” Elisif whispered. “You're a dragon!”

Paarthurnax lowered his head, tilting it. “I am as my father Akatosh made me. As are you... Dovahkiin.”

He knew. He could tell, of course he could, who else would have been allowed all the way up here? Who else could have Shouted the mists away? Dovahkiin and dragon, meeting as friends. Elisif could barely believe it... but there was something about this meeting that felt right. Predestined, in a way.

Elisif stepped forward, reaching a hand up to touch the scales of his snout, before stopping, wondering if she was allowed to do this.

“I've never been this close to a dragon before. Not one that wasn't trying to eat me,” Elisif whispered, enthralled. “Erandur, look, he's gorgeous!”

Nervous laughter from Erandur, who was edging slowly away, but a low rumbling chuckle from Paarthurnax.

“Long has it been since someone called me that!” Paarthurnax laughed. “You are different, Dovahkiin. Still in possession of your innocence. Tell me, what is your name?”

“Elisif,” she told him. Paarthurnax hmmed under his breath, thinking to himself, before lifting his head for a Shout.

“YOL-AAZ-OV!” The Shout echoed out over the mountain, echoing off the rocks and sending Elisif to her knees. Did he just Shout her name? Felt like it. Felt like someone had just ripped her soul open, baring it to the elements.

“What was that?” Elisif gasped, recovering herself.

“I named you, Dovahkiin,” Paarthurnax said, watching her. “Yol-Aaz-Ov, Fire-Mercy-Trust. The last two of those not common among Dovah. But you still have them both, and a Dovah's fire burning in your veins. A good thing, Dovahkiin. Would that more of my kind possessed such – a Dovah's fire and a joor's kindness. Maybe the world would not be so dangerous if they did.”

Yol-Aaz-Ov. Yolaazov. Elisif. She had no idea her name might mean something in the dragon tongue. Fire Mercy Trust. It wasn't the fiercest name out there... but she liked it. She could feel her inner Dovah calm for once, accepting the gift... and as a human, it suited her. Fire Mercy Trust. Yes, she liked that.

“Thank you,” she said, and this time she didn't flinch as she patted his snout.

“You are welcome, young one,” Paarthurnax murmured. “Now you are one of us. And when two of the Dov meet for the first time, there are... formalities. By long tradition, the eldest speaks first. YOL TOOR SHUL!”

Fire blazed from Paarthurnax, into the Word Wall. Elisif cried out, leaping out of the way and running over to Erandur as she watched. Paarthurnax was finally finished, indicating for her to walk over. On the wall, where he'd breathed, was a Thu'um blazing up at her.

“Yol,” Elisif whispered, tracing the letters. “Fire. Oh goodness.”

“A gift, Yolaazov,” Paarthurnax said. “Know fire as the Dov do.”

Knowledge, the gift of a Shout, swirled out from him, sinking into her, and her mind was fire, all she could see was fire, the sight of flames, sound of burning, smell of smoke, what was once whole being consumed... and from the ashes, new life coming, others warming themselves by the fire, the way cleared for something new to be built. Sometimes you needed to destroy things. It was just a matter of working out what to burn and what to save.

“I can breathe fire,” Elisif whispered. “Erandur? Erandur! I think I can breathe fire!”

“Good for you,” Erandur replied, actually looking proud of her. “Just make sure you don't burn any cities down, all right?”

Oh goodness. Being able to breathe fire. A terrifying thought... and at the same time, rather exciting. That was certainly one way to make sure people stopped talking down to her. She'd have to make a point of showing this off in public. She just hoped she didn't end up going too far the other way. Wouldn't do to have everyone scared of her.

“And now, Yolaazov, show me,” Paarthurnax said expectantly. “Let me taste of your Voice!”

“YOL!” Elisif Shouted, squealing as she saw fire fly from her and hit Paarthurnax. A stab of guilt as she realised she might have hurt the old dragon – but it was shortlived as Paarthurnax laughed in delight.

“Yes, yes! Truly you are Dovahkiin! Your Voice is strong, Yolaazov. Ah, it has been long since I have had the pleasure of tinvaak with one of my own kind.”

“I bet,” Elisif gasped, still a little breathless from the fire-breathing. Until Alduin came back, there hadn't been any other dragons. Poor thing, he must have been so lonely. Elisif made a mental note to make sure she visited once or twice a year, keep him company.

“So, Dovahkiin. You did not come all this way for the pleasure of tinvaak with an old Dovah. So tell me. What brings you here?”

Here it was. Here went nothing. If Paarthurnax didn't know...

“I need to know Dragonrend,” Elisif said. “The Shout that can knock a dragon from the sky. Do you know it?”

“Of course,” Paarthurnax murmured. “You seek your weapon against Alduin. I will answer your question – but first, answer mine. Why do you want to learn this Shout?”

Why... well, wasn't it obvious?? Perhaps not to a dragon. Elisif sighed and prepared to tell her story. Again. And Mara help her, she was not going to cry this time.

“A man trained by the Greybeards – by your followers – used the Thu'um to kill my husband. Half the country are cheering him on and want him to be King and now the country's at war with itself. Then the dragons came back, and then I found out I was Dragonborn,” Elisif sighed. “I'm the rightful Queen, I'm tired of the violence, I would like my country whole and reunited and people not getting killed all over the place, so I need to learn Dragonrend so I can stop Alduin. Once I've done that, I'll have no problem avenging my husband, putting down the rebellion and sorting my country out. But first I need to learn Dragonrend. Will you teach me?”

There it was, all out in the open and she'd barely shed a tear. Maybe it had something to do with being armed this time. Maybe she was just getting used to the whole thing. Either way, it was done and now Paarthurnax would help her, right?

“Noble aims, Yolaazov. Noble aims. But have you considered that maybe Alduin was not meant to be defeated? That maybe this world is meant to die so that the next may be born?”

No, Elisif never had. She'd never really been a philosopher, but she was going to be a queen and she was definitely sure she wasn't going to have the world end on her watch.

“Never mind the next world!” she cried. “I'm not letting my people die as long as I'm queen. Also I made a promise to the King of the Forsworn I'd get him his land back, and he is not a man you break promises to! So yes, I need to save the world, because this world isn't done yet! It's still got a story to tell. I want to know how it ends. Maybe I'll save it, maybe I won't, but the gods wouldn't have made me Dragonborn if they didn't want to give us a chance!”

“You are more afraid of this King of the Forsworn than you are my brother,” Paarthurnax said, amused. Afraid? Hah, Madanach should be so lucky. She had many feelings towards said King in Rags but she wasn't scared of him. He'd just looked so hopeful and optimistic over possibly actually getting his land back. She didn't want to disappoint him.

“No,” Elisif snapped. “He's my friend, that's all. I'd like him to have a chance to be happy.”

“A fair answer,” Paarthurnax said, nodding. “All right, Dragonborn. I will answer your question. This Shout you want, Dragonrend. Alas, I cannot teach it to you. Its words of power are not known to me – they cannot be known to me. It is a Shout created by joor, lashing out at the very essence of our souls. Our minds cannot even grasp the concepts. I cannot teach it to you... but I may know how you can find out.”

Elisif certainly hoped so. For all she'd been here for what seemed like hours, she'd not learned a lot. Erandur looked frozen, poor thing.

“How do I find out?” Elisif asked.

“All in good time,” Paarthurnax said. “Do you know why I made my home here on the Monahven, that you call the Throat of the World?”

“No,” said Elisif, rubbing her arms. “So no one else knows you're here and tries to hunt you?”

Paarthurnax did laugh at that. “No, Yolaazov. This is where Alduin was banished from, all those centuries ago. My friends, three of the Tongues of old, Gormlaith, Hakon, Felldir. The Nords had had many heroes since, but none greater.”

Hakon One-Eye, Gormlaith Golden-Hilt, Felldir the Old. Elisif knew the names, her father had told her the story. Three ancient heroes who'd defeated Alduin centuries ago – they'd lured him to battle and banished him forever using the power of the Voice, the dragons' own weapon. Except the stories hadn't said how. Now it looked like she was going to follow in their footsteps.

“They knew Dragonrend. Where from?” Maybe she could learn it from the same source.

“They invented it, Yolaazov. But that is not how they defeated him. If you can call the outcome a true defeat. Had it been, you would not be here seeking to... defeat him.”

“So how did they do it?” Elisif asked. If not using Dragonrend, how?

So Paarthurnax told her. A tale of Elder Scrolls, and how they'd used one to banish Alduin from time, creating a wound in time in the process, a wound which Elisif might be able to use to see through to the moment of its creation, and learn Dragonrend that way. Possibly. Perhaps. Assuming all went according to plan. First though she'd need an Elder Scroll.

“Where am I going to find one of those?” Elisif sighed as she made her way back down the mountain. “The only place I know is the Imperial Library in Cyrodiil, where the Moth Priests study them. But that's weeks away! Months maybe, and the passes will be closing for winter soon, if they're not already! Erandur, what do I do?”

“I'm not sure,” Erandur said thoughtfully. “But we might not have to go all the way to Cyrodiil. There might be one in Skyrim. The College of Winterhold might have one, or know where to look. And if they don't... Elisif, this is a little unorthodox but I used to know this woman. She helped me when I first left Nightcaller Temple, looked after me, pointed me in the direction of the Benevolence of Mara. Only... she's... well... not exactly an Aedra worshipper. She's a Dunmer, like me.”

Not an Aedra worshipper? Well, not everyone was religious, Elisif knew that... and then she recalled the Morrowind state religion.

“She's a Daedra worshipper?” Elisif gasped. Erandur looked rather awkward, but nodded.

“She's a priestess of Azura,” he admitted. “But she's a good woman – mostly a good woman anyway. Azura sends her visions. She might have seen an Elder Scroll in them. It's worth asking.”

Seeking the help of a Daedric priestess. Elisif hadn't seen that one coming. Still, she was carrying a Daedra's sword, they weren't all bad. Azura, Lady of Twilight and all things that were neither one thing nor the other, was one of the better Daedra.

“All right,” Elisif sighed. “We'll try this woman, and if she can't help, we'll ask at the College. If there's a Scroll to be had in Skyrim, we'll find it.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The Shrine of Azura proved to be in the wilds of Winterhold, looming up in the midst of the Anthors, a great statue of the Lady of Twilight with the sun in one hand and the moon in the other.

“There it is,” Erandur said proudly. “The Shrine of Azura. Hasn't changed a bit. The Mother of the Dunmer people, looking out over to Morrowind, watching for a day it'll be safe to return. Come on, let's get up there. Aranea always used to have a tent up near the top.”

There was a tent up there, and there was a robed Dunmer priestess watching over the altar... along with three other figures in heavy armour that Elisif recognised at once.

“Vilkas? Farkas? RIA???” Elisif couldn't believe her eyes. Last time she'd seen Ria, she'd been alongside Jordis, fighting off a troop of Stormcloaks. Then Aela had said she'd been taken prisoner and Elisif had been scared she'd never see her again. Yet here she was, safe if a little pale and thin compared to when Elisif had last seen her.

“El – Maia!” Ria cried, running over and embracing Elisif. “What are you doing here?”

“I should be asking you that!” Elisif gasped. “Shouldn't you be in a cell in Windhelm?”

“I should,” Ria grinned. “But I escaped. Not on my own obviously, I had help. From some friends of yours. A certain thief called Brynjolf?”

“Brynjolf??” Now Elisif was really confused. “But... he said he was going to Riften...”

“Well, he turned up in the Nightgate Inn the same night me and Vilkas stopped there,” Farkas said. “We told him we'd been poking round Windhelm trying to rescue Ria but not getting anywhere, and he offered to jailbreak her. And he and his two friends did.” He patted Ria, looking very proud.

“And what was his asking price?” Elisif asked. She knew Brynjolf well enough to know by now that he did nothing for free – Delphine had paid him for the Embassy job, and as far as rescuing Esbern and helping get them to the Temple went, he was mostly doing that to win Delphine over. Helping two strangers, even to free a friend of Elisif's, wasn't something she could see Brynjolf doing free of charge and these two colleagues of his would be even less inclined to do so.

“They needed this guild of Altmer thieves taking care of,” Farkas said with a shrug. “Vilkas and me were happy to help.”

Elisif had a feeling that particular job was less about helping make Skyrim safer than about wiping out the competition, but she couldn't really argue about getting rid of thieves.

“Where is Vilkas?” she asked and Farkas pointed at the altar. Vilkas was standing over it, hands resting on the altar and Elisif realised with a shock that she could see right through him to the large glowing star between his hands.

“What's he doing?” she gasped.

“He's in Azura's Star,” Ria said, sounding rather proud of him. “He's cleansing it for Azura, getting rid of some necromancer type who'd managed to store his soul in there. Aranea says we can keep the Star if he manages it.”

That was if he wasn't killed. Vilkas was grunting and swearing, and Elisif was horrified to see a burn appear on his arm.

“Will he be all right?” Elisif whispered. Ria nodded, still looking quite cheerful.

“Oh yes. He said he'd be fine. He's dealt with mages loads of times.”

“Yeah, he'll be all right. Vil's tough,” said Farkas, although he looked a bit less optimistic than Ria. Elisif hoped they were right. Vilkas wasn't the most cheerful of people, but Elisif wouldn't want him to die.

She looked around to see where this Aranea woman was. She was standing near the altar, talking with Erandur.

“Casimir!” Elisif heard her say. The Dunmer woman looked delighted to see him again, reaching out her arms to him. Erandur stepped back, going rigid as he frowned at her, which was odd. Weren't they supposed to have been friends?

“I no longer use that name. I go by Erandur now,” he said stiffly. Erandur had never looked so uncomfortable to Elisif.

“Erandur,” Aranea said, smile fading a little but still looking pleased to see him. She lowered her arms, clearly giving up on the hug. “It's good to see you again, Erandur. You're looking well.”

“I joined the Benevolence of Mara, Aranea,” Erandur said, his voice softening. “We're sworn to chastity.”

“To engage in sex only in the context of marriage or a relationship leading to it,” Aranea said, still looking amused. “I know the vow, Erandur. So tell me, what brings you here? Why are you seeking Lady Azura's help? I'm getting more visitors in the last month than in the last five years, I swear.”

Elisif approached, wondering what to make of this old friend of Erandur's, and honestly Elisif was starting to think less old friend and more old lover given the earlier conversation. Which wasn't a problem for Elisif, but clearly Erandur wasn't quite so happy. She'd have to keep an eye on him.

“Hello,” she said, holding her hand out. “Are you Aranea? I'm Maia. Erandur's a friend of mine, he said you saw visions. We're looking for -”

“An Elder Scroll,” Aranea finished, taking her hand and shaking it. “Yes, I know, High Queen. Azura told me you were coming. She's shown me several visions of your future, some of which you're happier in than others. I hope for your sake the happy ones actually happen. Aranea Ienith, at your service.”

Aranea seemed calm and friendly, but Elisif was a little unsettled to find out this woman already knew who she was.

“What else does Azura tell you?” Elisif said sharply. “Do you know who wins the war?”

“It's not that simple, Elisif,” Aranea sighed. “I've seen visions of Ulfric as High King and you as his unhappy consort. I've seen visions of you as the victorious High Queen but still unhappy because you're not really ruling. And I've seen you ruling as High Queen in truth, consort at your side and while some question your choice, you're happy. Then there are the ones where you end up dead, but let's not talk about those, hmm?”

Elisif didn't want to think about those either, even if dying would reunite her with Torygg in Sovngarde. So she changed the subject back to what she wanted to know.

“So this Elder Scroll,” she pressed. “Did Azura show you where it was?”

Aranea nodded, but she still looked dubious. “In a way. I saw some images. A Dwemer ruin. An old wizard in a cave of ice. An underground city with strange plants. A giant Dwemer machine containing the Scroll. And the College of Winterhold. That's all, I'm afraid. I'm sorry I can't be more specific. But the College is a good place to start, no?”

It wasn't a lot more than Elisif had already had to go on, but a Dwemer ruin and an old wizard... Elisif had never been in a Dwemer ruin before. Probably looked like Markarth except deserted. Not a great omen but she'd have Erandur at her back. Maybe even the three Companions might like to come. She suspected Ria would say yes.

Aranea had gone still, eyes glazing over, clearly communing with Azura again, and then Vilkas collapsed to the floor, fully there now but smoke rising from him. Ria had cried his name, kneeling by him as she tried to rouse the unconscious Companion, Farkas likewise looking on, worried.

“Erandur, help!” Elisif shouted, rushing to Vilkas' side. Half his face was covered in burns, there were holes in his armour, he was bleeding and generally looked awful. Erandur was there, healing spells in hand, Restoration magic chiming as he called out to Mara and let the magic flow into the stricken warrior.

On the other side of the altar, Aranea seemed to come back to herself, shaking herself down and then joining Erandur, her own healing spells flaring. With two of them at work, Vilkas' wounds closed and the burns faded and to everyone's relief he opened his eyes, in possession of a few new scars but otherwise fine.

“Vil, you OK?” Farkas asked, patting his shoulder, nonchalant tone belying the worry in his eyes.

“I think so,” Vilkas said, rubbing his eyes. “That Dunmer warlock was tougher than he looked and he was summoning Dremora... Ria?”

“Vilkas!” Ria cried, clinging on to him. “I thought you'd been killed!”

Vilkas reached up and put an arm around her, holding on to her, closing his eyes and smiling a little.

“It will take more than some warlock and his friends to kill me, Ria,” Vilkas said, slowly sitting up but still leaning on her. “Aranea, you'll be pleased to know he is at least dead.”

Aranea nodded, smiling but she looked like she was going to cry and not from happiness either. Elisif wondered what on earth was wrong with her.

“Vilkas, are you all right?” Elisif asked, and Vilkas's eyes widened as they fell on her.

“El – Maia! What are you doing here?”

“Same reason as you from the look of it, we were here seeking help from Azura. And Vilkas, you can use my real name, Erandur here is a friend of mine who I told ages ago, and Aranea knew anyway.”

“I see,” Vilkas said, letting Ria and Farkas help him up. “Well, it's good to finally see you out here, Dragonborn. Farkas and I have been travelling around eastern Skyrim when we weren't trying to rescue Ria. The war's been hard on the eastern Holds – and without a Dragonborn, the dragons have been ravaging the place. Shor's Stone is only just standing, and the miners have had to retreat into the mine. Darkwater Crossing likewise. And there's nothing left of Kynesgrove. A dragon emerged from the old dragon mound behind the town and completely destroyed it. Take care, Elisif, Ulfric's using it to blame you for not being there to stop it.”

“He's blaming me??” Elisif cried, feeling her cheeks flame at the man's audacity. “He's the reason I can't come east of the Throat in safety, and he's saying it's my fault for not saving Kynesgrove? I can't be everywhere!”

“I know,” Vilkas said sombrely. “Farkas and I did what we could, fighting dragons when we found them. But it only buys a day's respite before they come back.”

“A day's peace is better than none,” Erandur told him. “Don't blame yourself.”

Vilkas nodded but it was clear he still felt guilty. So did Elisif, but really what could she have done? Very little. All she could do was try and stop the problem at source.

“I'm working on a way to stop them permanently, give us a fighting chance,” she told him. “But I'm going to need help. Do the three of you want to give us a hand? I could do with extra blades.” And indeed Blades but all in good time. She could hardly recruit all of Jorrvaskr into the Blades, could she?

“I'm in,” Ria said instantly. “Whatever you need, Elisif.”

“Then I'm definitely coming,” Vilkas growled. “You aren't getting captured again.”

“Just tell me who needs bludgeoning,” Farkas said, reaching for his sword. Elisif smiled, finally feeling a bit more confident about this. She could use all the assistance she could get, and her, Erandur and three Companions could take care of most opponents.

“I'm glad to hear it, although you might not like our next stop. I need to find an Elder Scroll, and Aranea tells me it's in a Dwarven ruin somewhere. I'm thinking the College of Winterhold might know which one.”

Ria just nodded, but Vilkas and Farkas both looked worried, exchanging nervous glances.

“The College?” Farkas said. “They only let you in if you can do magic. Vilkas and me tried to get in to find out about Azura's Star – that Altmer on the gate didn't agree.”

“She said she'd only let us in if we could do some Summoning spell,” Vilkas sighed. “Well, neither my brother nor I are natural mages, let's put it that way. Fortunately we found one in the inn who could help... but I don't think he'll talk to either of us now, not since we took Azura's Star back here.”

Not encouraging, but Elisif knew a few spells that Eola had taught her, and if need be, she could get Erandur to pose as a student while she acted the part of bodyguard... but Erandur was a bit old to be an apprentice.

“Forgive me, but you're taking these three to the College of Winterhold?” Aranea interrupted. “I assumed you'd take Erandur and get him to take the entry test.”

“Is that going to be a problem?” Elisif asked warily. Aranea just shook her head, leaning back against the altar.

“You take that lot anywhere near Winterhold, people will know something's up. Four heavily armed warriors who definitely aren't mages go to the College? That will attract attention.”

“Well, do you have a better idea?” Elisif asked, feeling a little harassed. Aranea seemed friendly enough, but Elisif had only just met her. She didn't entirely trust her yet.

“Yes, actually. Azura sent me another vision to give to you. You have a more important task ahead of you. A small squad of Ulfric's people are making a move on a Nord ruin called Korvanjund. They're looking for something you'll find of interest. Never mind your Elder Scroll, you need to leave and go there now, make sure you get to it first. Otherwise your chances of winning the war just got smaller.”

“But the dragons-” Elisif cried, trying not to think of the charred ruins of Kynesgrove. “I need to find that Scroll!”

“Yes you do, but this is more urgent,” said Aranea. “Look, why don't I go and ask at the College for you. Erandur can come with me, two Dunmer mages arriving to do some research at the College's famed library won't raise any eyebrows at all. Meanwhile, you and your warrior friends here can go and explore Korvanjund. I'm sure they've been down plenty of Nord ruins.”

Elisif was dubious about this, but Erandur had vouched for Aranea's trustworthiness, and Ria and the twins all seemed in agreement. It was just Erandur looking worried.

“I'm really not sure this is a good idea...” he began. Aranea sighed and threw up her hands.

“For the love of Azura, Cas- Erandur, I'm not going to molest you. This is just a little research trip, that's all.”

Erandur didn't look convinced, but he did at length agree to it.

“Fine. But only because this is in service to a higher cause,” he grumbled. With that settled, everyone gathered their things and got ready to go, all promising to meet at the Nightgate Inn afterwards with their findings. Elisif stopped to say goodbye to Erandur before they left.

“Are you sure you're going to be all right?” Elisif asked. “What exactly happened with you two? You said you were friends!”

“We were,” Erandur said uncomfortably. “Are. But, well, we spent extended time alone together, and I was very lonely and vulnerable after losing everyone I cared about in Nightcaller Temple. She helped counsel me and I – I took shameful advantage of that generosity. She didn't hold it against me and in fact seemed to enjoy the experience – but she was and still is a lot younger than me by Dunmer standards, and I can't offer her the relationship that she deserves and that Mara would expect of me. So obviously I can't lie with her again, it would be unworthy and unforgivable to lead her on.”

“Only you still fancy her,” Elisif said knowingly, having seen the way he'd been looking at her. Aranea was rather pretty, to Elisif's eyes anyway, who knew what Dunmer standards of beauty were like. Erandur sighed, staring at his feet.

“Is it that obvious,” he said wearily. Elisif nodded.

“I'm afraid so,” she said. Aranea was standing some way away, but even so, perhaps some discretion was advised. “Look, she's a priestess, she's hardly the materialistic type if she's been living up here all this time. She won't care you're not wealthy. You might serve different gods but you have a lot in common. If you really care about her, if there's feelings on both sides, why not go for it?”

“It's not that simple,” Erandur sighed. “I'm too old for her, what if she gets pregnant, I might die before it ever grew up, and I'm in no position to provide for her!”

“There's potions to stop that,” Elisif whispered, reaching up to give him a hug. “And you're not that old, surely. And as far as providing for her goes, once I'm Queen, I'll make sure the two of you are set up properly if that's what you want. Either at Sky Haven Temple, or at my court.”

Erandur didn't say anything, just holding Elisif tightly and she had a horrible feeling those were tears on his cheeks.

“Bless you, Elisif, you're the kindest, most thoughtful young woman...” He stopped talking, letting her go and wiping a tear away from his eye.

“You take care,” he said gruffly. “Here's hoping you find what you're meant to in Korvanjund. As for me, well, I guess I'll just have to restrain myself, won't I?”

Elisif personally thought he was overthinking the situation a bit and that if anyone deserved to be happy, it was him. But it wasn't hers to interfere. Bidding him goodbye, she went to join the Companions. Time to see if this Korvanjund place really did have anything worth taking, or if Azura was just sending her on a wild goose chase. With Daedra, one could never be too sure.

~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: And there goes Elisif, levelling up with a cool Dovah name and breathing fire. Soon she'll have the Jagged Crown, and then my pretty, then you will be ready. Soon. :D

Ahem. But next chapter is back to the Nightingales, whose only option regarding fencing the Eyes turns out to lie Reachwards... and they've not heard the news about the Silver-Bloods yet. Has Nocturnal abandoned them? Perhaps not.

The door opened and a gust of wind surged off the lake and into the house; the first whisper of autumn.

“My Thane, the carriage –”

Audric held up his hand, rather rudely, as he flopped into the nearest chair. “Iona,” he drawled, voice thick with sleep, for the sun had not yet risen. “Please. Please. For the love of all that's holy, stop calling me that. It’s so…” he wrinkled his nose, “Impersonal.”

Exasperated by this man who broke rules with his bread, she sighed. “Then what am I to call you, liege?”

“I don’t know, but not that, either. If you must address me formally, try using my name.”

She had woken an hour before him, and a cup of strong tea had seen her awake as day. Smiling fondly at him, she tried again. “The carriage is nearly ready, Master Bellamy.”

Critically, he squinted, but did not protest. “No, the driver is nearly ready, not necessarily the carriage.” Looking around at his beloved home, Audric realized that his floors were in terrible need of sweeping. Dust creatures roamed unchecked, without the usual clutter to inhibit their progress from under-bed to hearth. It had been a scramble, but in less than a week, he’d managed to collect his belongings – or, the important ones, at least – and pack them into a tidy set of crates.

“If you don’t mind my saying so,” Iona leaned in the archway, “I think it is you, not the carriage, that isn’t ready.”

“I do mind,” he said quietly.

“Your pardon then, for speaking frankly.”

She was irritated with him, he knew, and not her usual affectionate agitation, either. And could he blame her? He had – however politely – dismissed her service, indefinitely, had made secrets between them, and now he was uprooting her. Though that last responsibility, in his opinion, did not belong to him.

Then, as luck would have it, one last diversion appeared.

“I have to take this,” he said, grabbing the register off his bed stand. “Before we depart, I have to take this to Plankside.”

“To the Ratway,” she accused.

“It’s your guess; do with it what you will.” Dumping his heavy cloak in her arms, he told her to wait for him with the driver; he’d only be a few moments.

Riften’s streets were still dark, the lanterns burning low. Audric pulled his coat closer about him, a vain effort to ward off the chill. Along the canals, mist rose from the water, more and more rolling in from the lake. It would surprise him if, in Windhelm, the river had not yet frozen over.

He did not want to go. And he was only going because he’d been strong-armed into it – under his own presiding, comically enough. Really, it was the result of Tullius’ last power grab, a testament to the fact that he was still the head of this operation. Which of course was ridiculous, but it was Audric’s personal belief that a man was entitled to whatever helped him sleep at night. Besides, Tullius couldn’t take all of the credit; Brunwulf, concerned for the delicate state of his city, had motioned for Audric to be positioned there as collateral. If Ulfric so much as stepped one toe beyond the bounds of the agreement, it would be Audric who would report to Tullius, and the whole tower of dominos would come crashing down. In exchange, he would be given pardon, his home back, not to mention political autonomy in the coming months of contention.

And Audric had agreed to this. He’d agreed to it because he cared about a handful of Windhelm’s citizens; because he was ridden with guilt for betraying a friend; because he had worked too hard to get Ulfric reinstated to foil it all now. He would still be free to go about his business – given that his business was Alduin – but every two weeks, like clockwork, he would be expected to write his observations. Tullius knew him better than he cared to acknowledge, exploiting his nature.

And apart from all of this, a strange mix of emotion was churning in his gut. He was outraged to be on a leash, no matter how loose, and Riften was his home, and being taken away from that infuriated him...yet, he could not muster quite enough anger to draw a line in the sand. Somehow, he couldn’t be bothered to put up enough of a fuss to remove himself from the mire of politics, neither to focus on his destiny nor his desires.

The Flagon was empty when he entered. None of the shopkeepers had opened yet, not even Vekel. A shame, Audric thought, as he could do with some brandy to fortify his blood against the impending cold.

He entered the cistern and took his time bothering at his desk, picking through papers last-minute, trying to find an excuse to dither. He’d already left detailed instructions for Brynjolf, as he’d been absent when Audric had meant to speak with him, and give him a proper farewell. On his way out, however, Audric heard harsh whispers echoing off the stone walls, and followed them to a pocket room off the cistern. Crouching low in the shadows, he spied.

“How can you, of all people blame me for thinking it?”

“Because you know him better than I do,” Karliah volleyed, calm, “and you know that you’re angry at him, looking for reasons to doubt him, to spare yourself heartache.”

A scoff.

“Brynjolf, no one would hold you in contempt for it, not after what you’ve been through –”

“And who’s saying I’d give a damn if anyone did?” he snapped.

Karliah sighed. “This isn’t how it’s meant to be,” she murmured. “Nightingales, friends, turning on one another, breeding mistrust.”

“Then take it up with our Agent of Stealth.”

There was a brief, somewhat pregnant pause, and Audric suddenly suspected that Karliah knew exactly where he was.

“I suppose I don’t know what you were expecting of him, and neither does he,” she said thoughtfully. “He isn’t Gallus, Brynjolf, and he never will be.”

“Not if he keeps on the path he’s walking, he won’t,” he sneered.

Perhaps if Audric had been a bit older – or at the very least, a bit wiser – he could have walked away, shouldering the insinuation with a grain of salt. But as he was neither old nor wise, he did not walk away. As curiosity had drawn him in, anger now drove him like a moth into fire.

“Karliah,” he nodded politely, rounding the corner. “If I might beg pardon? I don’t have long.”

Karliah’s eyes, soft and dark, searched him carefully, as if looking for broken parts. She seemed on the verge of speaking – a warning, a bit of advice, maybe – but thought better of it.

And once she was gone, Audric tore into Brynjolf like a feral dog into a steak. “How dare you.”

“Oh, how dare I? Excuse me, Guildmaster, for questioning your authority –”

“That’s not what this is about! If you have something to say, say it here, now, to me! Not to our friend!” Audric was fuming, his thoughts falling into a discombobulated jumble as the heat of rage overtook him. “How dare you put her in that position!”

“Me? Put Karliah in what position? As if she would ever allow herself to be shunted into any situation than the exact one she desires.” Brynjolf straightened his back and squared his shoulders, approaching Audric directly. “And how dare you put me in the position of confiding in her? Audric, I should’ve been taking it up with you! I didn’t take that three-day job for kicks! I did it to get away from you!”

Silence clogged the air, suffocating them both. “Twist the knife, why don’t you?”

“No,” Brynjolf growled, “you don’t get to make me out to be the villain in this.”

“I’m not trying to –”

“Well you’re not trying not to, either.”

“I don’t know what you want me to say, Bryn.”

Brynjolf turned his back on Audric and breathed deeply a moment. When he turned around again, his face wasn’t so red, and the fire in his eyes had been tamped, for the moment. “I want you to say that you’re sorry. I want…” his jaw tightened and one hand curled into a fist. “I want you to explain yourself.”

Audric’s face flushed, no longer with anger, but with shame.

“Our ties with the Empire are tight, and you go and sneak Ulfric Stormcloak back onto his throne under their noses?”

“It didn’t happen quite like that.”

“I don’t care how it happened!” he bellowed. “Maven is furious! And now I hear that it’s you, responsible for the slaughter of the Brotherhood?”

“They abducted me in the night!”

“Delvin has been beside himself!”

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