She had, and Sabrinda remembered the arguments, Meryndor wanting to know why she needed to go to Cyrodiil, they had all the best magical schools in Tamriel right there in Alinor. Liriel had insisted she needed to broaden her horizons, learn more about the history and the latest magical research that might not have made it to Alinor yet, and what about all the Ayleid ruins in Cyrodiil? Meryndor had put his foot down and said no, and Liriel had shouted and there'd been arguments and tears until it ended with the two of them hugging and crying and Meryndor admitting he just didn't want her to go, he'd miss her. She'd told him she'd miss him too, but she couldn't stay in Alinor forever. Finally Meryndor had turned to her.
“Just let the girl go if she wants to that much,” Sabrinda had sighed. “I'm sure I can talk a few people into getting her a visa. Cyrodiil wasn't so bad... when we weren't having to subdue the place anyway.” With any luck, Liriel would suffer from homesickness and be back in months. But she hadn't. Months had turned into years and the letters home had got ever fewer and then stopped altogether. Sabrinda had contacted her Embassy colleagues in Cyrodiil, and all they'd been able to tell her was that there'd been an incident in Bruma, some human had allegedly tried to grope her in a tavern and Liriel had slit his throat and fled the city in a panic, killing about ten guards in the process with her Destruction magic and raising a few to cover her escape. No one had seen her since. Sabrinda had only just been able to talk Meryndor out of chasing after her, insisting the Cyrodiil Thalmor Ambassador would find her. It didn't occur to either of them Liriel would flee over Pale Pass into Skyrim, not with winter on its way, not with the war just having broken out, not with the border being closed to civilians. She'd never thought to write to Elenwen and ask her to look for her – other than the College of Winterhold, Skyrim wasn't known for its magical heritage.
Sabrinda was regretting not having looked earlier. But as it was, it was too late now. She just had to work with what she had.
“Wealth and power, it must be,” Sabrinda sighed. “It's clearly turned her head. It can't be lust, he's not only old, he's shorter than us!”
“Dammit Sab, that is not like her!” Meryndor snapped. “You know what she's like, she used to read romances and fairytales and dream of a handsome prince to sweep her off her feet, praying to Mara every night. She'd no more marry for money than sell herself on the street! She doesn't care about coin, she's always had it! Anyway, you heard Elenwen, this Madanach wasn't rich when she met him! Little better than a bandit leader, apparently. She was the one who negotiated the treaty that put him in power!”
Re: Thicker Than Blood 3.6
“Just let the girl go if she wants to that much,” Sabrinda had sighed. “I'm sure I can talk a few people into getting her a visa. Cyrodiil wasn't so bad... when we weren't having to subdue the place anyway.” With any luck, Liriel would suffer from homesickness and be back in months. But she hadn't. Months had turned into years and the letters home had got ever fewer and then stopped altogether. Sabrinda had contacted her Embassy colleagues in Cyrodiil, and all they'd been able to tell her was that there'd been an incident in Bruma, some human had allegedly tried to grope her in a tavern and Liriel had slit his throat and fled the city in a panic, killing about ten guards in the process with her Destruction magic and raising a few to cover her escape. No one had seen her since. Sabrinda had only just been able to talk Meryndor out of chasing after her, insisting the Cyrodiil Thalmor Ambassador would find her. It didn't occur to either of them Liriel would flee over Pale Pass into Skyrim, not with winter on its way, not with the war just having broken out, not with the border being closed to civilians. She'd never thought to write to Elenwen and ask her to look for her – other than the College of Winterhold, Skyrim wasn't known for its magical heritage.
Sabrinda was regretting not having looked earlier. But as it was, it was too late now. She just had to work with what she had.
“Wealth and power, it must be,” Sabrinda sighed. “It's clearly turned her head. It can't be lust, he's not only old, he's shorter than us!”
“Dammit Sab, that is not like her!” Meryndor snapped. “You know what she's like, she used to read romances and fairytales and dream of a handsome prince to sweep her off her feet, praying to Mara every night. She'd no more marry for money than sell herself on the street! She doesn't care about coin, she's always had it! Anyway, you heard Elenwen, this Madanach wasn't rich when she met him! Little better than a bandit leader, apparently. She was the one who negotiated the treaty that put him in power!”