#I've been buried in work so haven't edited super well but I enjoyed writing this!

[anotherclassicpretence]

TES Secret Santa

I got @aquicat ! The collection of characters you gave was very interesting, I chose two of them because they're in a strangely similar situation after their respective questlines.

I hope you enjoy it! It's a bit long, but I've taken your "no such thing as too overdone" to heart. Happy holidays!

~

Imperial victory.

The bards had already spun songs of it. The cruel, grasping Bear trampled by the courageous Wolf. Solitude ascendant. Unity prevailing.

The moot had gathered within days of Ulfric Stormcloak’s death. The Jagged Crown had been placed on Elisif’s head.

Not mine, she remembered thinking as the dragon bone had weighed down her brow. The head of Torygg’s widow. They didn't let her forget that– and she didn't wish to. That was all that remained of him.

What of it? Even that had been lauded. She had become the lone Wolf– fierce in her grief. Everything was a sign of legitimacy.

Everything but her own thoughts. Everything but the frowns when she tried to speak to the people she now ruled.

~

The High Queen's retinue had settled into Winterhold, the third stop in their tour of the province.

Not province. Say “holds”. Say “Skyrim”. She remembered her steward's corrections to the proposed announcement. “We must not forget what tore us in half.”

He was right, of course; as he always was. And as always, she would never have noticed the point.

It was difficult to breathe. The rooms in Winterhold were stuffy– lined with hay, built at sharp angles, well-suited to shelter from the cold winds blowing outside. But she wasn't used to them.

The council with her courtiers had been stifling, as had the dinner, as did this room. She threw open the windows, feeling only relief as the snowy breeze stung her face. Taking a few gasping breaths, she sighed and let her gaze wander over the white, dilapidated scene.

The windows were long and wide, ready to let in sunlight whenever it shone. Yet, in the twilight, it only gave a bleaker view of the once-great city. The destruction the Great Collapse had wrought still lay visible, half-sunken houses and stables far outnumbering the ones still standing and lighted; and the battle fought for the city, just weeks ago, had added fresh stains onto the landscape.

It made her shudder-- what could her grand welcomes and dinners do to help all this? In Solitude, it had at least been familiar ground; here...

Stricken by a sudden impulse, she wrapped her woollen cloak around herself, and narrowing her eyes against the rising wind, ascertained how thickly the snow had blanketed the ground.

It was enough– with a silent, graceful jump, the High Queen of Skyrim leapt from the tall window and landed (rather less gracefully) on the accumulated snow.

The cold was not so bad after all– or perhaps it was just the rush of excitement. She giggled as she stood up, stamping her feet in glee as she walked away from the Longhouse.

Winterhold's guards were on duty, of course– but they weren't on the lookout for anyone leaving the Longhouse. She snuck around them, feeling a growing sense of freedom that threatened to burst out in a loud cry. 

She half-ran to the road, wrapping her cloak closer to herself. The patrols paid her no mind– the cloak was a sturdy but simple one, hiding all her finery.

Looking around, she glanced at the massive statue of Azura, cut into the side of a mountain, built to appear most imposing at this very hour of the evening. The sun had all but set, yet the rays were brightest around that shrine, almost directly westward of Winterhold.

Elisif had decided, from the moment she gazed out of the window, not to restrain any impulse that day. An ardent wish seized her to visit the shrine, and she set off. 

It was well that the recent war had brought increased guards on the road– heedless, the High Queen walked unaware of the many dangers that would have beset a lone traveler on that route. 

Courage, for her, had been coping with her husband’s death. It had been living under the threat of Ulfric’s sword. She had braved that and more– but this is how most of us live, she realised dimly as she left the straight road and began the long climb to the statue. Unaware of the danger, perhaps, but not unwilling to face it.

The route to the shrine itself was unguarded. Elisif drew her enchanted dagger, hoping she would not have to use it. In one hand, she readied a Fireball– after her husband’s murder, Sybille Stentor, the unyielding and blunt court wizard of Haafingar, had given her many kind hours of private instruction.

Despite the threatening howls she heard, she reached the stairs at the base of Azura’s shrine unmolested– but just then, a pack of ice wolves set upon her.

She went numb with fear for a moment, seeing their wild eyes about to pounce– but instinctively threw a fireball at the leader.

There were three of them. Fighting them off would have been impossible– but just as the second bit her on the arm, a woman descended on them, crying out a prayer to Azura as a flurry of well-placed destruction spells routed the pack.

Elisif shuffled towards the stairs, catching her breath and looking gingerly at the wound on her arm. The woman– a Dunmer priestess– made short work of the wolves, and rushed to her side.

“Rest, traveller,” she advised. Making her lean onto a pillar, she used a Heal Other spell, giving Elisif a warm, almost comforting sensation as golden light stitched up her wound.

“Thank you.”

“It is a pleasure to help anyone who comes to pay respect to my Lady. Especially at dusk, though I fear you are a little late.”

Elisif racked her brains for a diplomatic answer– but she was tired. “I am not a worshipper of Azura. I have nothing against them, of course– but I only came to admire the shrine.”

“It is enough. It is more than most feel.”

They sat in silence, Elisif gazing with genuine wonder at the sheer scale of the statue. There she was– Azura, the lady of Dawn and Dusk, looking impassively over the vast mountainous expanse of Eastern Skyrim. Elisif had lived in Solitude all her life– all she knew of this Daedroth was what the priests at the Temple told her. But she was older now.

“Do you live here? Is it because you cannot practice your faith in the cities?”

The woman sighed reverentially. “I live here to be close to my Lady. Once, she blessed me with visions of the future, and saved many of us from the eruption that decimated Morrowind. Now, she has ceased those insights– but how does it matter? I have played my part in the grand design.”

“Why not leave, then?”

“She still cares for me– for all of us. She keeps me safe. My faith did not just depend on her favours. I can still feel the reverberations of her wisdom.”

“And what wisdom does she offer for grief?” Elisif heard herself asking, immediately scolding herself for it. It had been more than a year. It was unseemly to hold on to it.

“Grief is natural. Dawn always gives way to Dusk, but after the ensuing night Dawn returns. It will seem harsh to you, perhaps, but our ancestors remain with us after death. We do not mourn them, for they are happy, and continue to guide us. ”

“What if the one I lost did not follow her?”

“You are a Nord– so were they, I presume. Sovngarde will greet them. Now that the Dragonborn has rid us of Alduin, even the heavens rejoice. You need not worship her to know the truth of her teachings. You are alive, and must play your part.”

“I was always told the Daedra are evil,” Elisif said, almost smiling at the exhaustion that made her tongue flow so freely.

“It is not my concern what the world says, what divisions it draws. I have devoted my life to one who has never shown me anything but kindness. Azura has been a harsh mistress sometimes– but in her heart, she laughs and cries with her followers. In prayer– true prayer– I can feel her love. I would not trade it for anything in the world.”

“Tell me your name, priestess,” Elisif broke in, feeling a sudden rush of sympathy. 

“I am Aranea Ienith,” she answered simply, showing none of the eager curiosity about her that Elisif was used to. 

“Aranea, what would you do if all this love could no longer reach Azura? If her love could no longer warm you? And despite that, you had to carry on being her priestess– after all the meaning behind it was stripped away?”

“I have pledged my soul– once I die, she waits for me in Moonshadow. How would it matter if my love could not reach her today? She does not need it– and yet she values it. She values each voice that puts its faith in her. And that is my answer– my faith would keep me going. I will not forget the glimpses into her heart that I was blessed with. Her displeasure would horrify me– but her indifference is impossible. ”

She fell silent, a sorrow entering her eyes. “I grieve for my friends who once lived here, and left me for warmer hearths, and I grieve that Her voice– my only companion– has also deserted me. I leave the shrine much more than I used to. But I never doubt. It is not out of fear– I have confessed to her many times that being her priestess is difficult, and she has never refused me. Yes, it is difficult– but it is not a burden. Guiding others to that comfort, spreading her word– it will not lose its meaning. I have met many novice worshippers, each with their own stories. My faith is a force for good, these hands of mine can bring about the peace she wants her worshippers to have.”

Elisif pondered this for a while. “You speak of her much more… familiarly than we do of the Divines,” she said before she had entirely gathered her thoughts.

“It will seem strange to you, no doubt. But she is not a distant observer, content to let us interpret ancient scripture. She lives with the Dunmer. We can call on her, speak to her, love her as if she were here in the flesh. And one day, my flesh will be hers.”

“We must disagree, then,” Elisif replied in a friendly voice. “I prefer the stolidity of the Divines. But your devotion is admirable.”

“You are torn, I see, because you want your love to be separate from your duty,” Aranea said with a smile. “Why does it taint your love to have it guide you?”

“I was not meant to shoulder all this. Everyone knows it.”

“Everything happens for a reason. Night has fallen– we may know for certain that Dawn will come, but that does not mean we idle away. Our actions will bring it about.”

“Perhaps I can embrace that sentiment someday,” Elisif replied wistfully. “But I am not ungrateful. Much has happened this year to give us hope. Soon, the next will begin– and I will stay by myself, insulated.”

“I sense a strong spirit within you, and a brave one, to come here alone purely out of curiosity. What good is this shuttered love of yours, if it brings you to deathly stillness?”

“You do not know, Aranea,” Elisif shook her head.

“Azura’s foresight remains with me. I see your struggles. The war has ended– and you are not friendless. Many love you for yourself. And those who do it for another’s sake– are they not just like you?”

Elisif shivered. “It is cold here.”

“You cannot survive a night here. I will escort you to Winterhold.”

“It will not be necessary. Look, there are torches on the road below. They will find me.”

“Then I bid you farewell.”

“Do you need anything here? I ensured that Kraldar has lifted all the laws restricting the mages. You will have no difficulties with supplies, or with the College–”

“I am happy here. Azura gives me purpose.”

Elisif felt her solemn contentment, and it brought out her own playfulness.“And I am glad that my purpose permits me a softer bed.”

Aranea smiled broadly for the first time. “May all turn out well.”

“Thank you again. I will think about what you said.”

They stood in silence for a while, and as half of the search party broke off to approach the shrine, Aranea melted away into the darkness.

~

“Good morning, Falk.”

“Good morning, your Grace. I have managed to conceal last night’s adventure from the jarl…”

“I am sorry to burden you, steward, I will be mindful in the future. We leave for Windhelm today– what must I know?”

Falk Firebeard cleared his throat, pulling a tall stack of parchment towards himself. “We will greet the New Year there, as you know. I must advise her Grace not to attempt to speak to the courtiers directly–”

“Falk, surely I can speak with them if you accompany me?”

“Oh… certainly.”

“I understand. I will follow your lead. But I cannot do that forever.”

“No, your Grace. It is a good idea,” he said without his usual conciliatory tone. “Now as for the new jarl…”