A/N: I am so pleased to see people liking and reading this, and really pleased to hear people loved N&J that much. I must have done a good job with Liriel if people are squealing to see more of her. She's not in this chapter, but you get a lot of background info on her via her parents.
Summary: Madanach meets his in-laws and it's hard to say who's less pleased with the situation. Ancalime however is having a great time, especially when she starts making some new friends...
Really, this city was as horrible as Elenwen had implied. Stone everywhere, a maze of winding, twisting pathways, and the people, dear Aedra, the people! Orcs and humans mostly, those dark-skinned Redguards, more of those bearded Nords, and then there were the Reachmen. In particular the guards, in fur outfits that looked like rags held together with bone and feathers, that covered nothing. Sabrinda had already seen Meryndor glancing for a second too long at one of the women – he'd hidden it well, but she'd seen. Then there'd been the way everyone had kept staring at Ancalime – previously stony-faced Breton guards taking one look at her little girl and gasping and whispering like they'd never seen a child before. And so what if her ears were too big for her head? She'd grow into them eventually, all Altmer did.
She put her arm around her daughter and ushered her onwards, following the Reachwoman who'd met them at that infernal teleportal. Sabrinda was all for magic, but that thing was just not natural. She'd had flashbacks to the Oblivion Crisis, staring into yet another Oblivion Gate as the Dremora hordes prepared to pour through, shouting at her soldiers to hold firm, they were the trueborn sons and daughters of the Aedra and they would not fall.
It had been several moments before she'd realised she'd been clinging on to Meryndor in terror, Ancalime staring up at her with wide eyes, and she'd pulled herself together for her daughter's sake and led the way.
Anyway, they'd made it, and why Liriel had chosen this city, Sabrinda had no idea. Stakes welded into stone rooftops, goat's heads on pikes on every corner, an entire Spriggan corpse over one building's entrance, the sound of steelworks on the far side of the central crag. Liriel could have had the glass spires, golden sandy beaches and warm summer breezes of Alinor, with cicadas chirping and jasmine in the air. Instead she'd chosen... this.
That girl was leading them up to the stone edifice at the far end of the city, the one with the waterfall pouring over the front. Ancalime gasped to see it, and Sabrinda tightened her grip. This city had already claimed one daughter – it was not taking the other.
A particularly vicious-looking Orc emerged from the Keep at the head of a small patrol of Reach-Bretons, the Orc at least having the decency to be wearing heavy Orcish armour rather than the unseemly skull-festooned ensemble the Bretons seemed to like.
“Eola! We got your message – well, sorta, the boss and Nepos are still decoding it. What's up – oh. Not you people again, we told you, we don't worship Talos round here... wait. What's with the kid – you're not kidding.”
“Borkul,” the woman said cheerfully. “We've got guests. Here to see the King, seeing as Liriel's not here.”
“I bet,” Borkul said faintly. “Right you lot, form an honour guard, I'll walk with the Princess here. Let's get these distinguished guests inside, shall we?”
Princess – Elenwen had mentioned a daughter from a previous marriage, one old enough to be married herself. This must be her, and while Sabrinda wasn't great with human ages, this one looked like a young-ish, quite capable warrior with an aura of magic to her. So this was the heir to the throne. One to watch, clearly. She wondered where the husband was. Was it the Orc perhaps? Possibly – she'd not thought even humans would stoop to bedding Orcs, but this place was barbaric even by human standards, and those were base enough.
Re: Thicker Than Blood 3.1
Summary: Madanach meets his in-laws and it's hard to say who's less pleased with the situation. Ancalime however is having a great time, especially when she starts making some new friends...
Really, this city was as horrible as Elenwen had implied. Stone everywhere, a maze of winding, twisting pathways, and the people, dear Aedra, the people! Orcs and humans mostly, those dark-skinned Redguards, more of those bearded Nords, and then there were the Reachmen. In particular the guards, in fur outfits that looked like rags held together with bone and feathers, that covered nothing. Sabrinda had already seen Meryndor glancing for a second too long at one of the women – he'd hidden it well, but she'd seen. Then there'd been the way everyone had kept staring at Ancalime – previously stony-faced Breton guards taking one look at her little girl and gasping and whispering like they'd never seen a child before. And so what if her ears were too big for her head? She'd grow into them eventually, all Altmer did.
She put her arm around her daughter and ushered her onwards, following the Reachwoman who'd met them at that infernal teleportal. Sabrinda was all for magic, but that thing was just not natural. She'd had flashbacks to the Oblivion Crisis, staring into yet another Oblivion Gate as the Dremora hordes prepared to pour through, shouting at her soldiers to hold firm, they were the trueborn sons and daughters of the Aedra and they would not fall.
It had been several moments before she'd realised she'd been clinging on to Meryndor in terror, Ancalime staring up at her with wide eyes, and she'd pulled herself together for her daughter's sake and led the way.
Anyway, they'd made it, and why Liriel had chosen this city, Sabrinda had no idea. Stakes welded into stone rooftops, goat's heads on pikes on every corner, an entire Spriggan corpse over one building's entrance, the sound of steelworks on the far side of the central crag. Liriel could have had the glass spires, golden sandy beaches and warm summer breezes of Alinor, with cicadas chirping and jasmine in the air. Instead she'd chosen... this.
That girl was leading them up to the stone edifice at the far end of the city, the one with the waterfall pouring over the front. Ancalime gasped to see it, and Sabrinda tightened her grip. This city had already claimed one daughter – it was not taking the other.
A particularly vicious-looking Orc emerged from the Keep at the head of a small patrol of Reach-Bretons, the Orc at least having the decency to be wearing heavy Orcish armour rather than the unseemly skull-festooned ensemble the Bretons seemed to like.
“Eola! We got your message – well, sorta, the boss and Nepos are still decoding it. What's up – oh. Not you people again, we told you, we don't worship Talos round here... wait. What's with the kid – you're not kidding.”
“Borkul,” the woman said cheerfully. “We've got guests. Here to see the King, seeing as Liriel's not here.”
“I bet,” Borkul said faintly. “Right you lot, form an honour guard, I'll walk with the Princess here. Let's get these distinguished guests inside, shall we?”
Princess – Elenwen had mentioned a daughter from a previous marriage, one old enough to be married herself. This must be her, and while Sabrinda wasn't great with human ages, this one looked like a young-ish, quite capable warrior with an aura of magic to her. So this was the heir to the throne. One to watch, clearly. She wondered where the husband was. Was it the Orc perhaps? Possibly – she'd not thought even humans would stoop to bedding Orcs, but this place was barbaric even by human standards, and those were base enough.