“I hope so,” Elenwen said, her voice hardening. “The alternative is taking action against Liriel herself – eliminating her husband is difficult and likely to cause an incident, but Liriel does like to travel with just one or two companions in the wilderness, hunting dragons. An accident would be unfortunate, but if you cannot persuade her to retire from public life and return to Alinor in haste... it may be necessary.”
“Sab? What does she mean?” Meryndor asked, but deep down, he knew. All Alinorians knew. No one talked about it, but everybody knew.
“We'll bring her home,” Sabrinda said fiercely. “I promise you, Elenwen. I know my duty to the Dominion, even if Liriel has forgotten it. I'll make her see reason.”
“See that you do,” Elenwen murmured. Liriel had set herself up as humanity's best protector, a hero to all of Tamriel. The Thalmor's ideals came into direct conflict with that, and Elenwen abhorred conflict. When it came to choosing between mer and men, all true children of Alinor would choose mer... else they were no true Alinor child.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“DADDY!”
Madanach groaned wearily, burrowing underneath the covers of probably the most luxurious bed in Markarth. He had a hangover from Oblivion, no Liriel, a certain amount of public embarrassment to live down (although nothing coin and the implied threat of violence wouldn't help with), and then the cheering prospect of going over the accounts with Nepos and seeing just how much his daughter's wedding had actually cost in the end. At least the generous donation to the Temple of Dibella that he was going to have to make to avoid a scandal was tax-deductible. He had no idea who Sam Guevenne actually was, but if he ever showed his face in the Reach again, the ReachGuard had standing orders to execute the son of a bitch on the spot.
But daughter number (four) one was married off at last, and with any luck he might have more grandchildren in a year or two, hopefully saner than their father. As it was, until that happy day, he had daughters two (five) and three (six) to deal with.
“What is it, cariad?” he said wearily.
“Uncle Nepos sent us,” Sissel said, climbing on to the bed and sitting cross-legged next to him. “He said you needed to get up and be presentable, court was opening at ten.”
“It's not opening at ten,” Madanach growled. “I gave everyone three days off for the wedding, then it's the weekend. Court's not re-opening until Morndas.”
“But Da,” Lucia piped up, perched on the end of the bed. “It is Morndas.”
What?? Surely not. The wedding had been Middas afternoon, then the party all night, Thurdas a complete mystery, then waking up on Fredas in the Temple of Dibella with Liriel, both dishevelled wrecks and with the entire priestesshood staring at him. Not actually shouting at him, no one in Markarth other than Nepos, Eola or Liriel got away with that, but radiating disapproval. Neither he nor Liriel had remembered a damn thing but apparently there'd been... fondling. Of each other and the statuary, allegedly. And propositioning of the priestesses, becoming aggressive when told to go home, they were drunk, and insisting they could pleasure a woman like no man they'd ever had. Madanach had sworn up and down he would never do that, only for Senna to snap “not you, her!” and pointing at Liriel, whose cheeks had gone scarlet.
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timeasmymeasure
Re: Thicker Than Blood 1.7
Date: 2014-01-20 09:34 pm (UTC)“Sab? What does she mean?” Meryndor asked, but deep down, he knew. All Alinorians knew. No one talked about it, but everybody knew.
“We'll bring her home,” Sabrinda said fiercely. “I promise you, Elenwen. I know my duty to the Dominion, even if Liriel has forgotten it. I'll make her see reason.”
“See that you do,” Elenwen murmured. Liriel had set herself up as humanity's best protector, a hero to all of Tamriel. The Thalmor's ideals came into direct conflict with that, and Elenwen abhorred conflict. When it came to choosing between mer and men, all true children of Alinor would choose mer... else they were no true Alinor child.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“DADDY!”
Madanach groaned wearily, burrowing underneath the covers of probably the most luxurious bed in Markarth. He had a hangover from Oblivion, no Liriel, a certain amount of public embarrassment to live down (although nothing coin and the implied threat of violence wouldn't help with), and then the cheering prospect of going over the accounts with Nepos and seeing just how much his daughter's wedding had actually cost in the end. At least the generous donation to the Temple of Dibella that he was going to have to make to avoid a scandal was tax-deductible. He had no idea who Sam Guevenne actually was, but if he ever showed his face in the Reach again, the ReachGuard had standing orders to execute the son of a bitch on the spot.
But daughter number (four) one was married off at last, and with any luck he might have more grandchildren in a year or two, hopefully saner than their father. As it was, until that happy day, he had daughters two (five) and three (six) to deal with.
“What is it, cariad?” he said wearily.
“Uncle Nepos sent us,” Sissel said, climbing on to the bed and sitting cross-legged next to him. “He said you needed to get up and be presentable, court was opening at ten.”
“It's not opening at ten,” Madanach growled. “I gave everyone three days off for the wedding, then it's the weekend. Court's not re-opening until Morndas.”
“But Da,” Lucia piped up, perched on the end of the bed. “It is Morndas.”
What?? Surely not. The wedding had been Middas afternoon, then the party all night, Thurdas a complete mystery, then waking up on Fredas in the Temple of Dibella with Liriel, both dishevelled wrecks and with the entire priestesshood staring at him. Not actually shouting at him, no one in Markarth other than Nepos, Eola or Liriel got away with that, but radiating disapproval. Neither he nor Liriel had remembered a damn thing but apparently there'd been... fondling. Of each other and the statuary, allegedly. And propositioning of the priestesses, becoming aggressive when told to go home, they were drunk, and insisting they could pleasure a woman like no man they'd ever had. Madanach had sworn up and down he would never do that, only for Senna to snap “not you, her!” and pointing at Liriel, whose cheeks had gone scarlet.