Galmar stood, and paced the room like a caged animal for a long minute, occasionally stopping to finger a weapon or shield on a plaque, before he took a deep breath and turned to face his wife.
"You truly need to know, don't you?"
Rozenn nodded once.
"Alright, fine. Although I'm not happy about this. I don't think you should know about these things," Galmar said, returning to the bed, and sitting, stretched out beside Rozenn, wrapping an arm about her and pulling her close against his side.
Rozenn let herself fall against her husband, resting her forehead on his shoulder.
"This is nice," Galmar commented.
"Tell me!" Rozenn barked irritably.
"Alright, alright! Damn uppity Breton."
"I love you, too, Bear Man," Rozenn murmured.
Galmar chuckled and settled back. "Hwæt. Listen. In the Great War against the Aldmeri Dominion, Ulfric and I fought in the Imperial Legion. We saw many battles, much bloodshed, and terrible waste of life. But such things happen in war, these things each man and woman can deal with in their own way. If they are not natural in the everyday, they are certainly natural to war, and if you cannot deal with them the war deals with you."
Rozenn squeezed Galmar's waist. Galmar made no indication that he felt it.
"What was unnatural in the Great War was the Altmer themselves. Those damnable, thrice-cursed witch-elves were the most unnatural fighters I have ever seen. An honourable enemy attacks with blades and shields. Maybe flames and icy spears, if they are so inclined."
"Not so the Dominion?"
"Not so the Dominion. Those witch-elves were necromancers. They attacked us with Bound weapon in one hand and in the other a spell designed to turn out fallen against us. I remember one vicious encounter, where few Imperials fell, so the Dominion warmages felled their own to raise against us.
They killed their own brothers-in-arms so they could bring their corpses to bear on us like they weren't Shield-Brothers, but simply weapons, or fodder for our artillery: things to slow us down or frighten us.
Ulfric wonders sometimes why I am so staunch in my support of him. Of course I believe he will do right by Skyrim, but also I cannot bear the thought that if the Dominion takes us for soldiers, will they see us as more useful dead than alive? I cannot trust another mage having seen what they did to our dead and their own, wife. It - it isn't natural."
"Nor is it right. Necromancy is a simple thing to do, but so difficult to do it right. It is a branch of magic I am unfamiliar with by my own choice. But not all mages are necromancers, and not all necromancers are evil, Galmar," Rozenn replied, hugging him for all she was worth.
Galmar nodded. True enough, I suppose. But I will never like it."
"You don't have to."
*-*-*
A/N: Yeah, so like I said, this came out of nowhere. Why I'm angsting away so much I will never know. I also don't know if it fits within lore, but it seems like the sort of the Thalmor soldiers would do. Let me know if I got it glaringly wrong, please? And also if I got it right
Fill: Damn Witch-Elves 2/2
Galmar stood, and paced the room like a caged animal for a long minute, occasionally stopping to finger a weapon or shield on a plaque, before he took a deep breath and turned to face his wife.
"You truly need to know, don't you?"
Rozenn nodded once.
"Alright, fine. Although I'm not happy about this. I don't think you should know about these things," Galmar said, returning to the bed, and sitting, stretched out beside Rozenn, wrapping an arm about her and pulling her close against his side.
Rozenn let herself fall against her husband, resting her forehead on his shoulder.
"This is nice," Galmar commented.
"Tell me!" Rozenn barked irritably.
"Alright, alright! Damn uppity Breton."
"I love you, too, Bear Man," Rozenn murmured.
Galmar chuckled and settled back. "Hwæt. Listen. In the Great War against the Aldmeri Dominion, Ulfric and I fought in the Imperial Legion. We saw many battles, much bloodshed, and terrible waste of life. But such things happen in war, these things each man and woman can deal with in their own way. If they are not natural in the everyday, they are certainly natural to war, and if you cannot deal with them the war deals with you."
Rozenn squeezed Galmar's waist. Galmar made no indication that he felt it.
"What was unnatural in the Great War was the Altmer themselves. Those damnable, thrice-cursed witch-elves were the most unnatural fighters I have ever seen. An honourable enemy attacks with blades and shields. Maybe flames and icy spears, if they are so inclined."
"Not so the Dominion?"
"Not so the Dominion. Those witch-elves were necromancers. They attacked us with Bound weapon in one hand and in the other a spell designed to turn out fallen against us. I remember one vicious encounter, where few Imperials fell, so the Dominion warmages felled their own to raise against us.
They killed their own brothers-in-arms so they could bring their corpses to bear on us like they weren't Shield-Brothers, but simply weapons, or fodder for our artillery: things to slow us down or frighten us.
Ulfric wonders sometimes why I am so staunch in my support of him. Of course I believe he will do right by Skyrim, but also I cannot bear the thought that if the Dominion takes us for soldiers, will they see us as more useful dead than alive? I cannot trust another mage having seen what they did to our dead and their own, wife. It - it isn't natural."
"Nor is it right. Necromancy is a simple thing to do, but so difficult to do it right. It is a branch of magic I am unfamiliar with by my own choice. But not all mages are necromancers, and not all necromancers are evil, Galmar," Rozenn replied, hugging him for all she was worth.
Galmar nodded. True enough, I suppose. But I will never like it."
"You don't have to."
*-*-*
A/N: Yeah, so like I said, this came out of nowhere. Why I'm angsting away so much I will never know. I also don't know if it fits within lore, but it seems like the sort of the Thalmor soldiers would do. Let me know if I got it glaringly wrong, please?
And also if I got it right