Not entirely sure where this plot bunny came from. Anyway, I took some serious liberties with the Thalmor governing body and their traditions and… well a lot of it. I'm sure that some of the characters are a bit OOC. I still hope you enjoy! And, as you should all know, I own none of this!

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It is the aroma that stops her dead in her tracks, just inside the door to Proudspire Manor. She is bombarded with memories of a time long ago; of crystalline buildings, silk uniforms, and a life without worry. "Jordis?" Calia calls, her voice echoing through the house despite its lush furnishings.

"My Thane." Jordis appears on the stairs from the basement and bows.

"What is that smell?" she asks carefully.

Jordis' face lights up like the effigy of King Olaf at the Bard's festival. "Oh my Thane, it's beautiful," she breathes out and then motions for Calia to follow her. She trots up the stairs and Calia trails behind, decades of etiquette training demanding she walk slowly and gracefully. She arrives at the top of the stairs to see Jordis waiting patiently near the door to her bedroom. She allows a small smile to curve across her lips. Jordis has only been her Housecarl for a handful of months, but already she has learned the subtle preferences Calia has and responds accordingly. She is one of the more well-mannered humans Calia has ever interacted with and if she is honest, Jordis is one of the main reasons she has made Solitude her primary residence.

Jordis pushes the door to her bedroom open and bows deeply and Calia sweeps by only to freeze in place when she spots it. There, sitting innocently on the nightstand, is an Ever-Blooming Bonsai. She takes tentative steps towards it, her fingers rising without thought towards the blush colored flowers. She catches herself before she touches them and clenches her fist, pulling it down to her side. She has not seen an Ever-Blooming Bonsai since she was much younger, before she was forced to leave Alinor. Her heart catches in her throat and she blinks against the sudden tears in her eyes. She studies it for a moment and then clears her throat subtly. "Where did this come from?" she asks.

"A courier delivered it late yesterday, My Thane," Jordis responds. "There was a note."

Calia tears her eyes from the blossoms and sees the note tucked in amongst the branches of the tree. She reaches for it, carefully removing it from the plant. "Thank you Jordis, that will be all," she says. She hears the door click signaling that she is alone in her room. She places the note back on the nightstand and then proceeds to remove her robes, laying them across the foot of the bed for Jordis to hang later. Her boots are next, left near the door, and finally her undergarments, tossed in a small basket in the corner. She opens her wardrobe and removes her treasured silk robe, one of the few items she was able to keep when she was forced to flee her home.

The cool fabric slides like water over her skin and she cannot stop the shiver of pleasure that tumbles through her body. She misses many things about her homeland, the luxurious fabrics being one of the most. Her fingers absently trail along her daily robes, feeling the enchantments spark against her fingers. She reminds herself that her everyday robes are serviceable, more appropriate for the cold weather of Skyrim and heavily enchanted for battle. Still, a part of her yearns for something more comfortable. Shaking the thought away she retrieves the note and then curls up near the top of her bed, again studying the Bonsai.

It is truly magnificent, obviously old and well-tended. It would have cost a small fortune even in Alinor and she wonders not only who could afford such a treasure, but why they would gift it to her. She slips one finger under the wax seal on the note and is shocked to see that her fingers are shaking. She pointedly ignores it as she opens the letter and then frowns. She looks at the tree and then back at the letter, fingers moving to trace along the few words that are inside.

If I were able, I would return you to Alinor, but then I would not be able to gaze upon your countenance. I hope this small piece of your homeland will bring you some comfort in the harshness of Skyrim.

She casts a series of spells on the letter, desperately seeking any information that might indicate who the gift is from. She grunts in frustration when they reveal nothing and she tosses the note back on the nightstand. She settles back against the cushions on the bed, her mind whirling. There are very few persons in Skyrim who know her history, and of those few none would ever write words such as these to her.

She glares at it and crosses her arms to keep from picking it up and reading the words again. If she did not know better, she would think somebody was attempting to court her. The notion is ridiculous though, she would never sully herself with somebody who is not pure Altmeri. She looks up at the tree again and imagines the blossoms are mocking her. Pain jolts in her chest as she realizes that could be the case, a member of the Thalmor could be tormenting her, sending her reminders of the home she can never return to.

She glares at the tree and pulls the blankets up over her, slumping down into the bed and turning her back on it. For a moment she debates burning it or throwing it out, but then pragmatism sets in and she knows that she could never harm something as precious as that tree. They are rare, even in Alinor, and though the reminder hurts, she also cherishes it. With a sigh, she closes her eyes and forces herself to sleep.

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It is three weeks later and Calia has come to enjoy the Ever-Blooming Bonsai. She focuses on the pleasant memories the flowers invoke and forces aside the others. Jarl Elisif has even visited a handful of times to admire the tree and snip a few blossoms to take back to the palace.

Calia is returning from Castle Dour and a meeting with the General when she spots Jordis sitting outside the manor on the steps. The Housecarl scrambles to her feet as soon as she sees Calia and bows. "My Thane," she says and then glances at the door with a worried look.

"Jordis? Are you well?" Calia asks, wondering why Jordis appears to be too scared to enter the manor.

"I am well, My Thane, but there is this… Well, there's a bird in there and it does not like me," she explains.

"A bird?" Calia questions. Her brow furrows and she glances at the door wondering how a bird could have gotten into the manor.

"Yes, My Thane. It was inside a box when the courier delivered it and there was a note on the box that said 'open immediately'. So, I opened it and this bird comes out and starts attacking me! I ran out here and shut it inside," Jordis explains.

Suspicion nibbles at the back of Calia's mind and she starts up the stairs towards the door. "What did the bird look like?" she asks.

"I am not sure, My Thane," Jordis admits. "I just remember seeing vivid colors and then being pecked."

"Wait here, Jordis," Calia orders. Jordis bows and backs down to the street and Calia reaches for the handle, opening the door cautiously. She slips inside and looks around, spotting the empty box but no bird. Her steps are light across the floor and she retrieves the note that is fastened to the box, breaking the seal to read it.

Canah are revered for their beauty, but even they pale in comparison to you. I hope you enjoy her. She is called Cotinga.

"Cotinga?" Calia says, making her way to the stairs. She is fairly certain she knows where the bird is. She finds it at the top of the stairs, pecking angrily at the door to her room. "There you are," she coos and the bird turns to look at her. She holds her arm out and it takes off and lands on her sleeve, head bobbing in greeting. "Cotinga," Calia repeats, her free hand coming up to stroke the bird's breast. She opens the door to her room and Cotinga flutters off, landing near the Ever-Blooming Bonsai to snap at the flowers.

"My Thane?" Jordis' tentatively calls.

"Up here, Jordis," Calia responds. The Nord tromps up the stairs and then edges into the room, keeping a close eye on the bird. "It is a Canah," Calia says, glancing at the Housecarl and then back at the bird. "They are coveted in Alinor for their beauty."

"I can see why," Jordis murmurs and Calia cannot help but agree. The bird's feathers are a vivid aquamarine and practically sparkle in the sunlight that streams through the windows. There are emerald feathers on her breast and her tail is a combination of sapphire and ruby. "Is it supposed to be eating the tree, My Thane?" Jordis asks.

Calia nods. "Canah can survive on any flowers and seeds, but they prefer the blossoms of an Ever-Blooming Bonsai and those who eat only the blossoms are the most beautiful." She nears the bird and again strokes her fingers along the soft feathers.

"My Thane," Jordis begins hesitantly. "May I speak openly?" she asks. Calia nods and Jordis bows her head before continuing. "Do you know who is sending you these gifts? Is it a… a suitor?"

Something inside Calia snaps and she pulls her hand back from Cotinga. "That is not your business, Jordis," she spits, voice like ice.

Jordis starts to step back and then catches herself and bows low. "Apologies, My Thane. You are right of course. If it pleases My Thane, I will begin dinner."

"That will be fine, Jordis," Calia responds, attempting to inject some warmth in her voice. She reminds herself that Jordis is still learning her place and what is and is not an appropriate topic of conversation. The other woman backs out of the room and closes the door behind her and Calia sighs, rubbing her temples with her fingers.

Her meeting with the General had not gone well, with him insisting again that she aid the Empire in stopping the Civil War. It had taken every bit of her training to sidestep his requests, to answer without answering, to make promises without promising anything. She has no idea why the Thalmor want to continue the Civil War in Skyrim, all she knows is that they do and she is not going to further ruin her position with them by going against their desires.

She strips out of her clothes and slips into her silk robe, noting with dismay that there is a small hole along one seam. She stomps her foot, again wishing she were back in Alinor where her servants knew how to behave and how to repair damaged clothing. Of course, were she in Alinor she would just discard the robe and get a new one but she does not have that option in Skyrim. She feels tears prick at the back of her eyes and climbs into the bed, curling up inside the blanket to watch Cotinga. She inhales the scent of the blossoms and imagines that she is home back in her bedroom at Alinor, waiting for the servants to call her to dinner.

Cotinga lets out a sweet trill and it interrupts her fantasy and she shakes her head to clear the last of it, knowing that she is just making it worse by dwelling on it.

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"First Emissary!" Calia takes a moment to praise Auri-El that Jordis has a loud Nord voice that fills the house. She runs her fingers along Cotinga's plumes and then tilts her head to better hear the conversation at her front door. "What a pleasant surprise, please come in," Jordis finishes greeting and Calia hopes that her Housecarl is bowing. "To what do we owe this visit?"

"I would like to speak with your Mistress," Elenwen responds and anger slices through Calia. She may no longer have her titles from Alinor, but she is Dragonborn and Elenwen not using her title is a blatant insult.

"One moment please," Jordis replies. She clomps up the stairs and smiles at Calia. "My Thane," she begins and Calia raises a hand.

"I heard," she says. Calia takes a moment to adjust her robe and tighten the cinch and then she motions to Cotinga who lands obediently on her shoulder. The Canah has taken to her quickly and Calia has enjoyed falling asleep to the lull of Cotinga's birdsong each night for the past fortnight. She glides down the stairs and pastes a smile on her face when she sees Elenwen.

She folds her hands into her robe and bows. "First Emissary," she greets her.

"So the rumors are true," Elenwen says without returning the traditional greeting, something else that pricks at Calia. "You do have a Canah." She steps closer and studies the bird. "Wherever did you get it?"

"She was a gift," Calia answers. Elenwen's eyebrows arch when Calia neglects to use her title and Calia smiles benignly, determined to not let Elenwen win.

"A gift from whom?" Elenwen questions.

Calia reaches up to stroke Cotinga's breast and the bird nuzzles the side of her head before releasing a trill of pleasure. "Even if I knew, I am under no obligation to tell you," Calia replies.

Elenwen's eyes narrow and Calia can see her anger. "You possess an illegal animal. I could have you arrested."

"Canah are not illegal to own in Skyrim," Calia responds. "And even if they were, I have permission from Jarl Elisif to have her." Elenwen inhales sharply and then releases it in one quick burst. Calia adopts a concerned look. "Are you well, Elenwen?" she asks. "You are breathing heavily. Surely it is a sign of illness," she comments. "Perhaps you should go to the temple before you return to the Embassy?" She moves to the door and opens it, an obvious signal that it is time for Elenwen to leave.

Even though she has been among the rough mannered Nords for a long time Elenwen does at least recall enough etiquette to walk to the door. She leans in close and sneers. "I will find out who is sending you these gifts. Mark my words," she hisses and then she walks down the steps. Calia allows the door to close and then slumps as the anxiety flows out of her. She has forgotten how trying the political dance can be.

"Is everything alright, My Thane?" Jordis asks tentatively.

Calia smiles at her, a genuine one that only few have seen. Despite the difficulty of talking with Elenwen, she won that round and is pleased. "Yes. Quite well Jordis. Thank you."

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Calia tucks her legs beneath her as she settles onto her favorite cushioned bench. It cost her quite a bit of gold to have it made but the result was worth it. It was long enough that she could lay down if she desired and wide enough that if she did she would not risk falling off. The bench itself was made of solid pine and she had made sure the carpenter added a sturdy back. Convincing the tailor to make the cushions for the bench and the back had been harder, but in the end her money won. The resulting padding was plush but supportive and the fabric was sturdy and soft. She had placed it in the center of the downstairs living room where it could be seen upon entering the house.

She twists slightly and lays one arm over the back, balancing her book with her other hand. It has been too long since she has been able to relax and take pleasure in something as simple as reading. She allows herself to become absorbed in the story the book weaves, everything else dropping away for the moment. A loud knock startles her and she drops the book and frowns at the door. Jordis appears from the stairs and hurries across to it, opening it with a murmured greeting. Calia cannot make out the response but she sees Jordis accept a package and then close the door.

She carries it into the living room and bows her head. "My Thane," she says, presenting the box. "Another delivery for you." Calia places her book on the end table and accepts the package, laying it on the cushion next to her. Jordis hovers, obviously unsure if she should stay or leave. Calia waves her hand casually and Jordis sinks onto the cushioned bench, waiting patiently.

Calia can feel herself trembling as she unties the twine that keeps the package closed and then removes the heavy parchment. She eases the lid off the box and gasps. It slips from numb fingers and she slowly raises her hands to cover her open mouth. "By the Divines," Jordis exhales, sounding as astonished as Calia feels. She blinks, not sure that she is believing her eyes. Tucked in the box, in a bed of cotton, is an Amulet of Auri-El. She has not seen one since leaving Alinor and even then they had only graced the throats of the richest of Altmer. The pendant is silver, inlaid with solid gold, and decorated with every precious gem she can name. A lot of times placing so many gemstones together looks tacky but the creator of this necklace was a true artist and it is the most elegant design she has ever seen. "What is it?" Jordis asks.

"It is an Amulet of Auri-El," Calia responds from behind her fingers.

"That is the Aldmeri name for Akatosh, correct?" Jordis asks. Calia nods, eyes still fixed on the amulet. "Aren't you going to put it on?" Jordis asks. Calia's gaze rises and she blinks at the other woman. Jordis smiles at her and carefully lifts the amulet, sliding from the bench and moving behind Calia. Calia slowly lowers her hands and Jordis settles the amulet against her throat and then fastens the clasp and gently lays it against her neck. She moves back to the other side of the bench and tilts her head as she studies Calia. "If I may speak freely, my Thane?" she questions. The amulet sits heavy against the hollow of her throat and Calia swallows and then nods. "The person sending you these gifts has true taste," she starts, and Calia can tell she is choosing her words carefully as not to offend. "The amulet, while exquisite on its own, is absolutely breathtaking around your neck."

"Th-thank you, Jordis," Calia responds. Shaking fingers brush against the cool metal and she feels the magical protections spark to life at her touch. She stands from the bench abruptly, knocking the box on the floor and causing the cotton and a note to spill out of it. Jordis retrieves the note and hands it to her. Calia barely manages to keep from snatching it up and instead turns to the stairs. "I believe I shall retire to my room," she says.

"Very well, my Thane," Jordis responds. Calia glides up the stairs and into her room, closing the door and then collapsing against it. The amulet is a dull weight around her neck and she clutches at it, part of her wanting to rip it off and fling it away while another part reminds her of the value of the gift. She sucks in a gasping breath and forces her mind to relax. Across the room Cotinga begins to trill a soft melody, as if sensing her distress. She closes her eyes and breathes slowly until her heart beat evens out. Her feet carry her to the bed and she perches on the edge, fingers stroking through Cotinga's plumage for a few moments. With one last sigh she smooths the note and slides her finger beneath the seal.

You are worth more than the most expensive of metals. Your beauty outshines even the brightest of gemstones. I would spend my life lavishing you with gifts and showing you just how precious you truly are.

She folds the note closed and slides it into the drawer in the end table with the other two. Her fingers again stroke against the necklace and she wonders who could afford to send her such lavish gifts. As usual her mind swirls through a variety of options, it could be a suitor, it could be an enemy out to make her complacent before attacking, or it could be somebody playing a cruel joke. She studies the tree and bird and frowns. She doubts it is an enemy or somebody playing a joke on her, the expense of these gifts is more than most see in a lifetime, and yet somebody had spent it on her over the course of a few months. There is a light knock on the door and she jumps, pulled abruptly from her thoughts. "Yes?"

"My Thane," Jordis says through the wooden panel. "It is time to get you dressed for the gathering at the Embassy." Calia makes a face but rises from the bed and allows Jordis entrance. She has been to a few of the First Emissary's gatherings and has hated every one. The only reason she is attending this evening's festivities is because Elisif invited her and she does enjoy the company of the young Jarl. She fingers the pendant absently as her Housecarl begins removing gowns from the wardrobe.

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Calia accepts the hand of the Justiciar positioned at the back of the wagon and uses the other to gather her skirt as she steps carefully down. Jarl Elisif follows her and the young Nord steps up next to the Altmer Dragonborn. "I'm so glad you came," she murmurs, just loud enough for Calia to hear. "I hate these things, they're so dull. Tullius makes me go so we can 'keep the peace' with the Thalmor."

They move up to the entrance and Calia notes that there appear to be more Justiciars than normal stationed around the outside of the Embassy. Her brow furrows and she wonders if the First Emissary expects trouble. She wishes she had thought to bring her staff with her. The door opens and she can read the shock on Elenwen's face at the sight of her with the Jarl. It clears quickly and the First Emissary pastes on a wide smile. "Jarl Elisif, welcome! And the Dragonborn. How… unexpected."

Elisif smiles and steps by Elenwen. "I hope you don't mind," she comments. "I thought it would be fun for the Dragonborn to get out and socialize for a little while. She spends so much time tending to the people that I thought she could use the break." She flitters by Elenwen who barely stifles the glare she shoots at Calia.

"I don't mind at all," she mutters.

Calia dips her head in greeting, far enough that Elenwen cannot call her on abusing decorum, but not far enough to truly be respectful. "First Emissary," she says.

"Dragonborn," Elenwen returns, lips pinched as if she tasted something sour. Calia smiles and glides by, eyes already shifting to take in the other visitors. Elisif has accepted a glass of wine and is conversing with Jarl Balgruuf of Whiterun and Calia cannot help but smile. After Elisif he is the only other Jarl she can stomach for a long period of time.

"Delilah!" he calls, waving his hand at her in greeting. "Come, show me this bauble Elisif has been crowing about." She accepts a glass of wine from the steward and moves through the crowd to join the two Jarls. The light from the torches and candles glistens off the amulet at her neck and Balgruuf lets out a low whistle. "That is something," he murmurs, leaning forward slightly to study it. Calia bites her lip to keep from twisting away from him. Despite her lack of dislike for the Jarl, she still feels uncomfortable with him looking at her so closely. "That's got to be worth more than everything in my Hold," he adds, standing up and arching a brow at her. "Where'd you get it?"

Elisif clutches his arm with a grin. "From a secret admirer," she shares gleefully and Calia momentarily wishes she had not divulged the information about the gifts to the other woman.

"An admirer, hm?" Balgruuf returns, glancing at Calia with curiosity on his face. "One wonders what this admirer will want in return for such an extravagant gift." Calia can feel her face flush at his words, she has wondered that herself.

Elisif slaps him lightly on the arm. "Oh hush Balgruuf, don't ruin this for her. Besides, that's nothing. You should see the bird and the tree he sent also," she adds.

"My Jarl," Calia hisses and Elisif blinks at her, obviously not aware of the fact that she is divulging things Calia would rather be kept quiet. "If you will excuse me a moment," she says, dipping into a bow before stepping away. She exchanges her still mostly full glass for another one and then shifts to a partially secluded corner where she can observe the other guests and sip her wine. The Jarl of Markarth breezes in, joining Balgruuf and Elisif where they are conversing. She frowns slightly. She has met the man only twice and cannot place his name.

"Rather daring to wear such an exquisite amulet in a country as riddled with bandits as Skyrim," the low voice comes from slightly behind her and she blinks and turns her head to look at the speaker. A man wrapped in Thalmor robes stands there, the angle of the light keeping most of his face in shadows. He holds a glass of wine and she wonders who he is to have garnered an invitation to the party. The only other Thalmor besides Elenwen are usually guards. She can feel his eyes studying her and casually turns her gaze back to the room.

"Only if the one wearing it is not capable of defeating said bandits," she returns. She hates doing this political dance, but if the man is important enough to be invited, then perhaps he can help her earn her way back home.

"And are you?" he questions. She arches an eyebrow at him and the light flashes off his teeth as he grins. "Capable?" he clarifies.

She takes another drink and allows a small smirk to cross her lips. "I have found that there is very little I cannot defeat," she answers. "But then, most creatures cannot stand against a dragon."

He hums and nods in agreement. "A treasure then?" he asks, motioning to indicate the amulet at her throat. "An artifact captured from a felled enemy and taken back to your hoard?"

"A gift, actually," she responds haughtily.

"You must truly be remarkable," he comments, "to have earned such a gift." He pauses for a moment. "From a… lover perhaps?"

Her eyes narrow and she turns to face him head on, straightening to her full height, though she is still shorter than him by at least one hand's width. "You forget yourself," she states, ice dripping on every syllable. "For it is rude to ask such questions of a lady."

He holds his hands up and bows before her. "Apologies, milady," he replies. "Too much time spent among these Nords has tarnished my behavior. I am afraid I have been away from Alinor for many years."

She scoffs. "As have I," she retorts. "And yet I can still manage to recall proper decorum and how to carry myself as a true Altmer. Perhaps you should brush up on your manners." She glances over and sees the First Emissary glaring at the pair of them and barely resists rolling her eyes. "I'm sure the First Emissary will be glad to teach you." Elenwen's eyes are hot as she stares at the man and Calia knows a blind person could see the desire there.

He straightens and she can see the frown on his lips. "If you are such an expert, maybe you should teach me," he replies.

"I will do nothing of the sort," she states and then steps back as Elenwen nears them.

"Problem?" the First Emissary asks tightly.

"Of course not Elenwen," the male responds, bowing low and taking her hand to brush a kiss along the back of it. "I was simply admiring the amulet the Dragonborn has collected for herself."

Elenwen's eyes snap to Calia's throat and then widen slightly when they spot the amulet. "And I was reminding him that manners are appropriate, even in Skyrim."

Elenwen sneers at her. "As if you would know," she retorts. "You are not a proper Altmer and you never will be again. Now leave, your betters have much to discuss," she hisses.

Calia's lips pinch tight together and inside her the dragon roars to life. "Know this, Elenwen," she growls, allowing her Thu'um to fill the words with power. "The only reason you are still alive is because you are the First Emissary and I have no desire to upset the Council further. Should your status ever change I would urge you to flee Skyrim, or you will face the wrath of a dragon." She pivots neatly and glides away before either of them can speak, joining Balgruuf and Elisif where they are standing near the edge, making rude, yet amusing, observations about the others in attendance.

"Are you alright, Delilah?" Elisif asks, placing a hand on her arm.

"Who is that man with Elenwen?" she returns, ignoring the Jarl's question.

Elisif glances over her shoulder and shrugs. "Oh him? Some important Thalmor. He's usually stationed in Markarth and I think he leads their soldiers or something?" she replies.

Balgruuf nods. "He oversees the Justiciars in Skyrim. Between you and me, I think the Thalmor leaders sent him here to keep an eye on her also," he murmurs, nodding in Elenwen's direction.

"He does have a very lovely voice," Elisif comments. "I could listen to him speak all day."

"His voice?" Balgruuf's nose curls slightly in disgust. Calia ignores the two Jarls as they continue to bicker good-naturedly, silently agreeing with Elisif's words. The man did have a lovely voice. Something about it tugs at the back of her mind but she ignores it, watching him and Elenwen as they share low words and then he spins and marches out of the building. Calia looks away before Elenwen can discover her staring and spends the rest of the night avoiding the other woman.

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The door to Honeyside sticks a little and Calia nudges it with her hip to force it open. She steps inside, leaning heavily on her staff and gritting her teeth as pain slides along her body. Jordis and Iona look up from where they are seated at the table and both women stand abruptly. "Iona, go draw a bath now," Jordis barks. The woman hesitates but a sharp glance from Jordis has her moving down the stairs to follow orders. Honeyside is not as luxurious as Proudspire is, but it is cozy and far away from the First Emissary. Iona is not as capable a servant as Jordis, but she does well enough that Calia does not mind staying there on occasion.

Jordis pushes the door closed and locks it and then looks at Calia, a question in her eyes. Calia's own eyes squeeze shut and she nods once. Jordis slides an arm around her waist, carefully helping her through the house. Calia hates that she is showing weakness. Hates that she was distracted enough that the dragon was practically on top of her before she realized it. She pushes the thoughts from her mind and focuses on navigating down the stairs. Iona has the tub full and Jordis waves the woman away, sending her upstairs before she casts a flame spell on the water to warm it. It is the only spell she knows and the fact that she learned it so that she could warm Calia's baths makes the Altmer like her that much more.

Jordis eases her into a chair and takes her staff, placing it quickly but carefully onto the weapon stand. She makes short work of Calia's robes and soon the Altmer is in nothing but her small clothes. Jordis hisses at the wound on Calia's side, still seeping blood despite the healing spells she used on it. She disappears into the next room and returns with a potion, pulling the cork and handing it to Calia. Calia sips the soothing liquid, exhaling softly as the pain begins to lesson. When the vial is empty Jordis guides her to her feet and removes her underclothes and then balances her while she steps into the tub and sinks into the blessedly warm water.

"Thank you, Jordis," Calia murmurs as she relaxes against the edge of the tub and lets the warmth of the water soak into every muscle, releasing the tension that has gathered there.

"It is my pleasure, my Thane," Jordis responds, gathering up the soiled clothing before she climbs the stairs. Calia leans her head against the tub and her eyes close, mind sliding around haphazardly before settling on the Thalmor male she had conversed with at the First Emissary's party. There was something familiar about him and a voice at the back of her mind was screaming at her for not remembering. Try as she might, she cannot place him and blames it on the fact that she saw no more than his mouth and that was only a few glimpses.

A knock on the door draws her attention and her eyes ease open. She watches the stairs and soon enough Jordis moves down them, a package held in her hands. "For you, my Jarl. Shall I place it on the table?" she asks.

Calia's breathing picks up and her heart thumps in her chest. She shakes her head and shifts forward so that she can lean partially out of the tub. "Bring me a cloth to dry my arms. I shall open it now," she instructs. Soon her arms and hands are dry and the package is resting on a chair next to the tub. Calia opens it carefully and slides the lid off. Inside she finds a selection of soaps and body oils. Tucked in the edge is another note and she draws it out.

While the aroma of the wilds of Skyrim has its own appeal, nothing can compare to the exotic fragrances of Alinor. These are not quite as delightful, but they come rather close. Please, use them and remember home. (And do not think you can hide from my attentions. I have searched much too long to find you).

She does not know if she should be flattered that her gift giver followed her to Riften, or terrified. She selects a soap at random and inhales it, nearly groaning out loud when she catches the herbal scent of her favorite soap. It is one of the few luxuries she has allowed herself after leaving Alinor, the soaps being popular throughout Cyrodiil. Unfortunately, due to the war they cannot be found anywhere in Skyrim. She relaxes back into the water and proceeds to wash herself with it, inhaling deeply and absorbing the scent. The practical part of her mind is questioning who would send her these gifts and Balgruuf's words echo behind that, reminding her that the giver most likely wants something in return. She shakes the thought away and shushes the practical voice, instead enjoying the pleasure of a warm bath and her favorite soap.

lllll

"Delilah!" Jarl Elisif greets Calia, hurrying through the market towards her. "I was wondering when you would return. Been off saving Skyrim again?" She loops her arm through Calia's ignoring the looks the residents of Solitude send their way.

"Something like that," Calia replies, grinning down at the Jarl. She did not have many friends back in Alinor and the Jarl is forever optimistic and entirely too trusting. Her naivety makes it easy for Calia to subtly manipulate her.

"Was Jordis with you? I saw her earlier today, but I do not recall seeing her for the last few weeks." They pause at a jewelry stand and Elisif admires a pair of earrings hanging there.

"She was, my Jarl," Calia replies. "I sent her ahead a few days early so she could prepare the house for my return."

"Have you communicated with her since she returned?" Elisif glances at her from the corner of her eyes and Calia shakes her head, wondering where she is going with this line of questions. "Ah good," the Nord grins. "That means she hasn't told you any of the latest gossip. Come, let's go to Proudspire and I'll fill you in."

Calia allows Elisif to practically drag her through town and up into the Manor, pausing when she steps inside. Cotinga comes fluttering down the stairs and lands on her shoulder and Calia absently strokes the bird's breast as she looks around the house. "Something's not right," she murmurs. Everything looks to be in place, but something feels wrong. She realizes it is the locking spells she has on the doors. They are set to recognize her and Jordis but something about them seems slightly off from the usual spell.

"Is everything okay?" Elisif asks, concern in her voice.

Calia nods slowly. "The locking spells feel strange," she murmurs, slowly moving towards the living room, Elisif trailing behind her.

"Oh," Elisif responds and something in her voice draws Calia's attention. "That's probably because somebody tried to break into your house while you were gone." Calia blinks at her and Elisif smiles, glancing at the padded bench. "Can we sit?" she asks. Calia nods and sinks down, still staring at Elisif while confusion and annoyance war within her. "Divines this is the most amazing seat," Elisif sighs. "You must tell me who made it for you. I should like to get one for my bedroom I think."

"Of course," Calia replies. "What did you say about somebody breaking into my house?"

Elisif's eyes light up and she leans forward. "That was the gossip I have been dying to tell you about. It was maybe a week or so after you left when that Thalmor, the one from Markarth, remember him?" Calia nods slowly, she definitely remembers him. "He arrived at the palace dragging a shackled Bosmer behind him. We were all completely surprised, first that he was there and second that he had a prisoner. Well, Falk, of course, jumped all over him, demanding to know why he was in Solitude, why he had a Bosmer shackled." She sighs and shakes her head. "He's so overzealous sometimes. Anyway, the Thalmor replies that he had been in Markarth and overheard a conspiracy to rob you!"

Calia gapes at Elisif and then catches herself and snaps her mouth closed. "What?" she asks.

Elisif nods. "Oh yes. He overheard somebody pay the Bosmer to break into your house and steal your Ever-Blooming tree and the bird. I think they wanted the amulet as well, but I was fairly certain you had it on." Calia's fingers brush the amulet of Auri-El that she is never without. "He could not see who did the hiring, so he followed the Bosmer here and caught him trying to disable the spells on your doors. A couple of the guards came forward as witnesses, they saw the whole thing!"

"But, who would want to break into my home?" Calia questions, more to herself than the Jarl.

Elisif shrugs. "That's the million Septim question," she responds. "The Thalmor wanted to question the thief but Falk and Tullius got involved and wouldn't let him and then Elenwen caught wind of it because she showed up and demanded the right to prosecute the Bosmer." She scoffs and crosses her arms. "I was more than willing to let the Justiciar do what he needed to, but between the three of them it just wasn't worth the argument."

"What happened to the Bosmer?" Calia asks.

"I don't know," Elisif admits. "Elenwen bundled him out of here and I expect he's probably not alive any longer knowing her." She frowns. "The strange thing is that everybody knows Elenwen has no fondness for you. Why would she care if somebody broke into your home? And why is the Justiciar so interested? Up until the party last month I don't think you've ever met him, have you?"

Calia nibbles on her lip, the same questions floating inside her head. "No," she mutters.

Elisif pats her on the leg and Calia's eyes shift from the fire back to the woman. "Well, I'm afraid I must return to the palace, but I wanted to be the one to tell you. Especially since I was there. You look done in, why don't you get some rest?"

She rises from the bench just as a knock rings through the house. Calia frowns when Jordis does not come up the stairs. "Jordis!" she calls. There is no answer and she moves to the door, answering it herself. A gangly Nord teenager stands there, holding a package in his hands.

"For the Dragonborn," he mumbles, shoving it at her. She accepts it before he can drop it and then draws a Septim out of her money pouch and hands it to him. He shuffles away without a goodbye and she sneers at his back and closes the door.

"Another present from your secret admirer?" Elisif asks, her eyes dancing with excitement.

Calia carries it to a nearby table and sets it down. It's a large box and held significant weight and she wonders what could be inside now. She unwinds the twine and peels back the parchment, reaching to remove the lid when the downstairs door slams shut. She and Elisif both look to the stairs and Jordis comes flying up them and stumbles across the floor, bowing as she does. "My apologies, my Thane," she gasps. "I was at the docks and got held up. I hope my absence did not cause you any problems."

"It's fine, Jordis," Calia replies. "Why were you at the docks?"

"I purchased some fresh fish for dinner tonight," Jordis answers. She pauses and blinks at the box. "Another gift?" she asks.

"Indeed," Calia responds. She turns her attention back to it and slips the lid off. It clatters to the ground and all three women ignore it. Calia slowly reaches into the box and withdraws the first of many uniquely shaped bottles. The one she selects is short and squat, filled with a pale lavender liquid that she has never had the opportunity to try herself, but she has always heard it was delicious. She sets it gently on the table and removes the next one. This bottle is tall and thin and the liquid inside shimmers gold in the candle and torchlight.

"What are they?" Elisif asks, watching as Calia withdraws another tall bottle, this one a deep green color.

Calia resolutely unpacks them all, carefully brushing away the soft filling that kept them from breaking, before she answers. When she is finished thirteen bottles are lined up on the table, all of them different in size, shape, and color. "They are beverages," she answers, sinking into the chair next to the table. "Alcoholic beverages from Alinor."

Jordis frowns and Elisif looks thoughtful. "Why do I feel like there's some kind of special meaning behind these?" she asks, her fingers brushing gently along a vivid orange bottle.

Calia exhales slowly and then gives the Jarl a weak smile. "Because there is," she answers. Elisif takes Calia's hands and draws her up, leading her back over to the cushioned bench and then they both sink into it.

"Tell me," Elisif instructs, though her sweet grin eases the order. "You will feel better, I think. This is obviously worrying you. All of these gifts, they have special meaning, don't they?"

Calia's hand finds the amulet at her throat and she rubs her thumb against it. "Yes," she admits. "I have suspected but I was not sure until I received those." She casts a glance at the bottles. "It is an ancient Altmeri tradition. A… courting tradition."

Mirth sparkles in Elisif's eyes. "You sly thing!" she teases. "I wondered if you had a suitor, why didn't you tell me?"

Calia shakes her head. "Because I don't know who the gifts are coming from," she answers and she can hear the fear in the back of her words. "I know I should be flattered but part of me worries. Balgruuf was right, what is this person going to want in return for all these gifts? They are not cheap. Just one of them alone costs more than what most residents in Skyrim see in their lifetimes. And the alcohol." She swallows hard, looking at it again. "Some of those are so rare they can barely be found in Alinor, let alone all the way here in Skyrim."

"Was there a note this time, my Thane?" Jordis asks and Calia blinks before rising up and hurrying back to the box. She pulls the filing out, scattering it all over the floor in her haste and frowns when she finds no parchment and nothing written on the inside of the box.

"No," she says. "No notes, but they would not need to send one. Anyone of ancient Altmeri lineage would know what this means."

"What happens next?" Elisif asks, coming up and placing a gentle hand on Calia's. "If he continues to court you?"

"There is one more gift," she says. "It will be an item of clothing, to be worn on…" she trails off and swallows around the sudden lump in her throat. "To be worn on the wedding night." Jordis looks scandalized and Elisif tilts her head.

"Do you want to be courted?" she questions.

Calia frowns. Up until now she has not let herself consider what she will do if she is being courted. Obviously, the gifts are from a Thalmor, or an Altmer at least. They would not have access to these beverages otherwise. "I don't know," she admits. "When I had to leave Alinor I never thought..." She shakes her head. "I was raised with the staunch belief that I would one day marry an Altmer. Somebody with a lineage as pure as my own. After I was exiled I resigned myself to the fact that I would never wed, never have children." She inhales slowly and pushes back the tears that are prickling at the back of her eyes. "I'm almost too old to be courted now."

"Well, first of all I think that's ridiculous, you're never too old to be courted," Elisif declares and holds a hand up to keep Calia from commenting. "But I know that the Altmer are rigid in their beliefs and I understand. So the real question is, Delilah, what are you going to do when that last gift comes?"

Calia tilts her head and shrugs. She has no idea what she will do when her mystery suitor sends her the final gift.

lllll

Calia is just slipping off her robe to step into a bath when there is a knock on the door. "My apologies, My Thane, the courier just delivered another package." Jordis sounds suspicious and Calia can hardly blame her. It has been only one week since the last package was delivered. The bottles of alcohol are strategically positioned around her living room except for a couple that have found places in her bedroom. The Altmer pride themselves on their fine alcoholic beverages and the ones in the bedroom are not only supposed to be the sweetest, they are also laced with fertility potions to help with conception. She pushes the thoughts away and fixes her robe before she opens the door and accepts the package from Jordis.

"Thank you, Jordis," she says, taking the package and closing the door. She lays it on the bed and crosses her arms over her stomach, staring at it with trepidation. Even if she did not know the courting tradition, she would know from the feel of the package that something cloth is inside the wrapping. She walks across the room and looks out the window, her forehead pressing against the cool glass. Behind her Cotinga trills out a short melody. Her eyes stare unseeing over the city and she sucks in a sharp breath and turns away when tears form in her eyes.

She moves back over to the bed and dashes the moisture away, reaching with unsteady hands to unwrap the bundle. As expected an elegant robe lies inside, the material softer than any silk she has ever felt. The note that is tucked into the top is short, made up of only three words.

Tonight. After moonrise.

The note flutters from her hands and she presses them into the blanket at the top of her bed, looking down at the robe. The rational part of her mind is screaming at her to destroy it. To take it and the other gifts and set fire to them and then return to her normal life.

But a larger part of her is yearning for this. She wants so much to accept this proposition. To finally meet the Altmer who has been sending her such lavish gifts, who knows her well enough to understand she would appreciate this. She can admit that she has been lonely and though she had resigned herself to dying single and without children, she always wanted them. She finally pushes away from the bed and finds a small money pouch, counting out several Septims and dropping them into the bag.

"Jordis!" she calls before she can stop herself.

"My Thane?" the Nord's confused voice comes from right outside the room. Calia clears her throat and pushes away the practical voice in her head.

She opens the door and smiles at Jordis, handing her the pouch. "Jordis, I need you to go rent a room at the Winking Skeever for yourself and stay there until I send for you. Understand?"

Jordis blinks and opens her mouth and then closes it. Her lips pinch together and she looks away. "Are you certain that is what you want, my Thane?" she asks quietly. "I cannot protect you from the Winking Skeever."

Calia stamps down the irritation that flares within her at Jordis' objection. The woman is her Housecarl before anything else and it is her job to look after her. "I am certain," she replies. "Remember, I am a powerful mage and the Dragonborn. I think I will be fine." She pauses and places a hand on Jordis' arm. "Thank you for your concern," she adds.

Jordis bows and steps back. "As you wish, my Thane." Calia follows her downstairs and closes the door behind her, casting a complicated locking spell. If her suitor wants to get in, he will need to prove that he comes from a powerful magical lineage. She returns to her room and slides her robe off, sinking into the water of her bath.

She takes her time, using her favorite soap and doing a thorough job with her body and her hair. When she climbs out of the tub she spells her hair and body dry and then banishes the tub. She places a few drops of perfume behind her ears and at each wrist before she clasps the amulet around her neck. Her dark gold hair gets twisted up into a complicated knot and on a whim she pins a blossom from the bonsai tree just above her ear.

Her steps take her back to the bed and she unfolds the robe, sliding it on. It is a style she is not used to, one fitting for a wife to wear for her husband. She cinches it closed and tugs at the neckline, slightly uncomfortable with the amount of flesh that is exposed. The collar falls wide across her shoulders and neck, slicing along her chest to just cover her nipples. The edges meet up until halfway down her thighs and then they taper apart to reveal her legs. A glance at the window confirms that the sun is just sinking beneath the horizon and she has a little time until the moons rise.

She moves down the stairs and lights a few candles, leaving most of the house dark, and then perches on her cushioned bench to wait.

lllll

Calia senses the instant he reaches the edge of her spell. It ripples around her and she tilts her head, trying to get a feel of his magical energy. She can tell he is working at her spell, looking for the correct combination to allow him access. A gasp slips from her mouth when she feels the magic give and then the door knob begins to turn. She stands from the couch and moves to the base of the stairs, ready to fight or flee. He breached her spell much faster than he should have been able to and she finds herself wishing she had allowed Jordis to stay.

The door opens and a dark figure steps inside, covered from head to foot in robes. He closes the door and she can hear soft words and feels his locking spell joining and securing hers. She takes a few steps back as he turns to the living room, pausing when she reaches a puddle of shadows.

He takes two steps into the room and she bites her lip when the dim light flickers off the dark black of his Thalmor robes. She is frozen, not sure if she should wait or attack. She cannot see any of his face under the hood and she frowns.

His head moves in her direction and he takes another step further. "You do not need to hide," he murmurs, holding a hand out to her. Something about his voice rings familiar and she straightens her shoulders. She is an Altmer and she is Dragonborn. She has no reason to fear him. She takes a step into the light and he gasps. "By Auri-El," he exhales and she can hear the admiration in his words. Something within her preens. "You are more beautiful every time I see you," he whispers. "You are an amazing woman, Calia."

The use of her true name startles her and sets her on edge. Nobody outside of Alinor should know her real name. She started using 'Delilah' as soon as she stepped onto the ship that had carried her away from her home. "It seems I am at a disadvantage," she responds, tilting her head as she studies him. "For I do not know who you are."

He chuckles, a warm noise that settles her anxiety more than it should. "Ah, but we just saw each other not two months ago at the First Emissary's party. Or do you not recall? You gave me quite the tongue lashing."

Her eyes narrow as she studies him closer, recognizing the detailed stitching on his robes that indicate he is a higher rank of Thalmor. "You are the head of the Justiciars in Skyrim," she states. Her finger brushes the amulet at her neck. "You asked me about this knowing full well where it came from."

"I did," he agrees and she can hear the smirk in his voice. "I was curious as to what your response would be." He takes another step closer to her and his voice drops. "Though to be honest, it was all I could do to not sweep you away right there and ravage you. Seeing you wear the gift from me and in such a public forum."

The tone of his voice makes her shiver and she clenches her fists to keep from backing away from him. "Who are you?" she asks again.

"Has it truly been so long that you do not remember?" he chides her gently and then his hands rise to remove the hood that keeps his face hidden. A cascade of pale hair spills out and his skin glows golden in the faint light.

Calia raises a hand to her lips, disbelief echoing through her. "Ondolemar?" she questions, confusion pushing away everything else in her mind. "What… what are you doing here?"

"I would have thought that obvious with the gifts I have been sending you," he purrs and steps towards her. She finds herself stepping back, thoughts flying through her as she tries to figure out what is going on. He continues to advance and she matches his steps, keeping the distance between them.

"I do not understand," she admits when it is obvious he is not going to stop pursuing her. "When I was banished…" She swallows hard. "I do not understand," she repeats. Something heavy settles in her stomach and her mind flickers back to that day when she was on her knees before the Council, begging with her eyes for anybody to speak for her, to stop them from punishing her for her mother's sins.

The intense look on his face softens and he stops his pursuit of her. "Perhaps we should talk," he suggests. He looks around and spots the cushioned bench and moves towards it, pausing long enough to cast a spell at the fireplace and light the wood that is there. He settles on the far end of the bench and motions, indicating she should sit across from him. She debates internally and then follows, settling as far away from him as she can. A small grin curls across his lips but he does not comment on it. One of his arms rests against the back of the bench and he looks away from her, taking in the decorations. She sits stiffly, mentally cursing him for making her uncomfortable in her own house. "You were aware that you were being considered for a seat on the Council before everything happened, were you not?" He glances at her from the corner of his eyes.

She looks away from him, instead staring at the painting above the fireplace without seeing it. "I had heard rumors," she admits finally.

"Let me confirm for you then, it was true," he states and she shrugs in response. She has no idea why he is bothering to bring up something that not only happened ages ago, it also has nothing to do with why they are sitting there today. "There was one seat open," he continues, telling her things she already knew. "And we had narrowed it down to only two contenders." His fingers stroke along the back of the couch and the movement draws her eyes. "In fact, most the Council had already voiced their support for you. All that needed to happen was the final vote." He sighs and his fingers stop moving and she looks up to find him gazing at her intently.

"But then my mother was found in bed with a Breton Sailor," she supplies, her voice flat. "And I was accused of aiding her in her defamation of the Altmer character and the sullying of one of the purest bloodlines in our history." She barely resists crossing her arms, knowing that it will look like the defensive maneuver it is.

"The Council had concrete evidence that the sailor had been to your estate. They assumed there was no way for you to not be aware of it and you were banished." He pauses and looks at her, almost as if expecting her to defend herself. She stares dully back at him. She spent years trying to defend herself with no luck. She sees no reason why she should continue trying. Ondolemar clears his throat and then looks away from her. "I never believed that you had knowledge, nor that your mother had relations with the Breton, but I had no time to gather evidence before they brought you to the Council." He sighs. "I asked for time. I requested they consider your lineage and put you under house arrest until a formal investigation could be conducted but they were being pushed to take action and to make an example with you."

He looks back over at her and she blinks and frowns, realizing he has gotten closer to her. She would slide away but she risks sliding right off the bench. "I kept investigating," he continues. "After you were gone. It took me some time, but I discovered what happened." Calia finds that she cannot breathe as she waits for him to continue. "You and your mother were set up," he states. "The other Altmer who was being considered for the Council seat drugged your mother and the Breton sailor and planted the evidence at your estate."

Calia exhales slowly and blinks at him. "It was for a Council seat?" she murmurs in disbelief. The seats were coveted, but not so glorious to ruin another Altmer's life over.

"Not all," he admits. Something in his gaze changes and the atmosphere in the room shifts. She can feel a charge in the air and swallows, certain that he is sitting closer to her than he was. "It was well known to the other members of the Council that once you were elected I would be formally petitioning for your hand in marriage," he rumbles and his eyes move over her body like a caress. She looks away, unable to stand the intensity of his gaze. "They were supportive. Both of our lineages can be traced back in pure Altmer blood to the Aldmeri. Both houses are well respected in Alinor and across the Isles. We would be a good match."

He shifts away from her slightly and she releases the breath she had not realized she was holding. "Not one day after you were banished the new Council member was named and already had some of the others encouraging me to petition for her hand in marriage," he mutters sourly. "When I uncovered what she had done to your family, I also found that she had designs upon me for many years. My house's station is much higher than hers and a marriage would have raised her reputation even more than a seat on the Council. She was less than pleased to discover I was planning to court you, and in the oldest of ways no less."

Rage and sorrow roll through her and she feels her dragon soul perk up. All this pain, all this anguish, all because somebody wanted a seat on the Council and to wed a man that Calia was not even involved with? She rises from the bench and paces away from him. "Who was it?" she snarls, not even bothering to hide the Thu'um that echoes in the words.

"I promise I will tell you soon enough, but allow me to finish my story first?" he requests. Her eyes narrow and she crosses her arms, refusing to sit back down. He sighs. "Once I had sufficient evidence I went to the rest of the Council straight away. They were willing to revoke your banishment and punish the true culprit, provided I could locate you and prove that you had not sullied yourself with someone unfit."

Calia inhales sharply and sinks back onto the bench. The Council almost never repeals the punishments they hand down. "That must have been some compelling evidence," she comments.

"Yes, not to mention that several members of the Council are already unhappy with her. Ambition to raise your rank is acceptable, as is stretching the truth and omitting information to those outside our ranks, but to lie, and so blatantly, to the Council is absolutely forbidden. I have suspicions that she has been feeding false information to several of our members."

"What happened to her?" She is intrigued, wondering what the Council will do to someone who so obviously deceived them.

"Nothing yet," Ondolemar admits with a frown. "I had to find you first before they would take action and was not able to. I had managed to keep track of you for many years until you drifted into High Rock and then I lost you." He gives her a soft grin. "Imagine my surprise when I was in Dragon Bridge on my way to the Embassy and I see you striding through the town as if you owned it." He shakes his head. "I almost did not recognize you." His hand rises as if to touch her and then he drops it and looks away. "You changed your hair," he comments.

"If I do not keep it bound it interferes with battle," she explains and then frowns at the comment. She owes him no explanations. "Why did you not approach me then?" she asks. Her heart is tight and her mind is scrambling to process everything.

She is amused to see him blush under her scrutiny. "I was caught off guard," he admits. "You had been gone for so long I had almost given up hope of finding you. I never thought to look in Skyrim. It's no secret how most Nords feel about us." He rubs a hand over his face and she is struck by how this is affecting him emotionally. She does not recall ever seeing Ondolemar as anything but composed. "I started asking around, not easy to do considering you changed your name," he grins at her, "and discovered that not only was it you, you were also the famed 'Dragonborn' that everybody was talking about."

He stands abruptly and walks to the fireplace, staring at the dancing flames inside. She gazes at his profile, allowing herself to remember how close they were back in Alinor. Had she not been banished, she gladly would have accepted his advances, but now she is not sure. They are different people now, shaped by two very separate life paths. "I had you followed," he continues, drawing her back to the present. "And it confirmed what I already knew." He shoots her a look that is full of pride and she cannot stop the small grin from crossing her lips. "You carry yourself like a true Altmer. By Auri-El, you are a better Altmer here in this hostile country than most are back in Alinor."

He moves back across the room, dropping to one knee before her, words tumbling now as his excitement builds. She cannot help but feel excited herself, his emotions carrying her along. "I wrote the Council. I told them I had found you. I told them that you were a true Altmer; that you had continued to live as you should, despite being exiled to foreign lands where you knew your behavior could get you spurned."

He withdraws a letter and she recognizes the enchanted parchment that only members of the Council have access to. She swallows hard, hoping it means what she thinks but not daring to get too elated. "They want you back," he says with a wide grin. "They are more than impressed with the way you have handled yourself, with the work you have done here in Skyrim." He discards the letter on the end table and takes her hands. "Using your influence as Dragonborn to lure the Blade Delphine into a false sense of security before you killed her and made it look like a war crime. Painting the story to the Blade Esbern that it was the Thalmor who killed her and securing him as an informant." He squeezes her hands. "Practically single-handedly keeping the Civil War strong to distract them from our movements."

She withdraws her hands from his, ignoring the frown he gives her. "How do you know all of that?" she asks suspiciously. Only Elenwen knows who she is and what her movements in the country have been.

He stands and steps back, studying her. "Elenwen was only too happy to tell me about how her influence over the Dragonborn got these things done," he answers. "Of course, a blind man could tell that she despises you and the feeling is relatively mutual."

"Elenwen told you," she repeats softly and blinks as understanding flows through her and her blood runs cold and then hot. She is halfway across the room before he catches her arm, turning her around and holding her shoulders. She growls at him.

"Yes," he states, confirming her suspicions. "Elenwen was the one who set you up, who ruined your life and got your mother killed. Do not be hasty. Before you kill her, there is something else the Council wants done. Once they receive confirmation of it they will notify her of her change in status and then you may dispose of her as you see fit."

She steps back from his grip and looks him over warily. "What?" she asks.

He shifts and turns away, walking towards the bench. "You are past the prime age for courting," he says and she is glad he is not looking at her because she flinches. "But they recognize that yours is a lineage they do not want to die." He faces her again, drawing himself up straight. "They want you to wed somebody appropriate immediately."

Her eyes flicker to the bottles strategically placed around the room and the amulet sits heavy against her throat. "That is why you sent the courting gifts," she says.

He nods and reaches for her and she backs away from him again, but this time he gives chase until she backs into the front door and can go no further. He nears her cautiously, one hand reaching out to grasp hers and the other brushing her cheek. "Calia," he murmurs and she closes her eyes. It has been so long since she heard her true name and the sound is like music to her. She feels the heat from his body as he leans in to her. "I have loved you for longer than I care to admit," he whispers, his breath feathering over her cheek and ear and sending tingles down her spine. His nose barely brushes against her skin and she gasps. "I have refused all suggestions of appropriate wives in the hopes that I would find you." He chuckles and the low noise makes her insides curl. "It is the reason I am in Skyrim. This is my punishment for refusing to marry and carry on my lineage." His head dips and she can feel the moist air from his mouth as he sighs near her shoulder. "The Council has given permission for us to perform the bonding ceremony without the standard witnesses. Once it is done they will change Elenwen's status and you may do with her as you see fit."

She forces her eyes open, drawing back to look at him from under heavy lids. "And then we can return to Alinor?" she asks.

He smiles and cups her chin. "Not quite yet, Love," he responds and she knows her face drops. He dips his head to meet her gaze. "Your influence here is too critical," he explains. "The Council wants you to stay until we're ready to make our next move."

"I don't want our children born here," she says. She has seen the conditions the children of Skyrim grow up in and refuses for her own to live that way. They will grow up with the splendors of their ancestors or they will not grow up at all.

His eyes heat and she watches his pupils flare with desire. "They will not be born here. The Council has promised that we will not be here longer than necessary. When they find out your wish to become a mother and merge our lineages I am sure they will be eager to bring you back home." He studies her face intently and then one side of his mouth rises in a smile. "Are you agreeing to bond with me?" he asks.

She inhales deeply. The practical part of her is jumping up and down screaming, demanding to send him away and think everything over. She is tired of listening to that part though. It has kept her alive and untouched since she left Alinor, but what Ondolemar promises her sounds wonderful and she is so weary of being alone in this strange land. She wants to be with somebody who understands her and appreciates her how she is and it is obvious that he does. She releases her breath slowly and then nods. "Yes," she whispers, in case he does not understand.

Ondolemar's smile is the widest she has ever seen and she finds herself returning it bashfully. His hands grip hers and he draws her back over to the bench and guides her to sitting. He reaches down and she notices a pack that he must have dropped when he first came in. He rummages through it and withdraws a bundle of cloth, a few pieces of enchanted parchment, a vial of magical ink, and a special quill, one that she knows is enchanted to mark skin permanently. He places the quill, parchment, and ink on the end table and then gathers the cloth. "Is there somewhere I can change?" he asks.

She nods and points towards the stairs. "The bedroom is at the top," she murmurs. He stands and presses his face into her hair, inhaling deeply.

"Just, one moment Love. I swear I'll hurry," he breathes out and then makes his way up the stairs. She bites down a nervous giggle when she realizes he is doing all he can to not flat out run up them and she rubs her arms. The letter on the end table draws her eyes and she picks it up and folds it open, eyes skimming the words, confirming that everything he told her was true. She discards the letter when her ears pick up the faint sound of him walking back down the stairs.

He is wearing a robe that matches hers and she swallows against her anxiety when she gets a good luck at him. Like hers, the top is cut wide, baring most of his chest, and it folds closed just beneath his navel, dropping down to his knees where it ends. She belatedly realizes she is staring at his chest and her eyes jerk up to his. They sparkle with amusement and she blushes under his gaze. He sinks onto the bench next to her and drags the end table over so it is within reach.

She shifts forward and thrusts her chest up and he smiles. "Not just yet," he assures her. He uncorks the vial of ink and then stands, moving behind her. She can feel his fingers in her hair, removing the pins and clips she uses to keep it up and knotted. He catches the blossom above her ear before it can fall as he finishes dragging out the last of the pins. Her hair tumbles around her shoulder in a cascade of blonde waves and he gently pins the flower back into place. He moves to sit before her again, tracing her cheek with his thumb. "That's much better," he murmurs. His fingers curl around the quill and he dips it into the ink and then arches a brow at her. "Are you ready?" he asks.

She closes her eyes and inhales deeply, amazed when she realizes that her anxiety has all but disappeared. She wants nothing more than to bind herself to this man for the rest of their lives. She looks up at him and nods once. He releases a breath of relief and then clears his throat. "Calia," he says. "Do you accept my mark as a token of my affection for you and our commitment to each other for the remainder of our lives and beyond?"

"I do," she exhales. He presses the quill against the skin over her left breast and she is surprised to find that the feeling is not painful like she thought it would be. She holds still, not even breathing as he draws his House Emblem, forever marking her as his. Her heart is thumping in her chest and she absently wonders if it is beating hard enough for him to feel through the quill. When he finishes, he lays the quill on the table and arches a brow at her. She takes it and dips it into the ink, licking her lips in anticipation. She has seen partially naked males before, but something about Ondolemar calls to her and she wants nothing more than to run her fingers and tongue over the taut muscles she can see beneath his caramel skin. She shifts forward so that their knees brush. "Ondolemar," she murmurs. "Do you accept my mark as a token of my affection for you and our commitment to each other for the remainder of our lives and beyond?"

"I do," he states. She exhales slowly and gently places her free hand against his chest, feeling the muscles flex beneath her touch. She can feel his eyes on her as she leans forward and presses the quill to his skin, moving slowly as she traces the lines of her house Emblem. She is pleased to discover that though it has been years, she can draw it easily and the lines appear on the skin over his heart rapidly. When she finishes, she pulls her hands back and gently lays the quill down, swallowing before she dares to meet his eyes.

"One more part, Love," he whispers. He pulls out a small knife and draws the parchment over. She knows it is spelled to notify the Council of their bonding as soon as they have consummated it. He pricks the end of his thumb and spreads the blood across it, pressing a print to the parchment. A small flash of golden light later and he his holding the knife out to her. She follows his movements, her thumb print crossing over his before she heals herself as well. The parchment glows a soft green color, waiting for the final part of their bonding ceremony.

Her anxiety rears up again and she finds that she cannot look at Ondolemar. His hands smooth along her upper arms and he slides closer to her on the bench. "What's wrong?" he asks, gently turning her face so that she is forced to look at him or close her eyes.

She stares up at him, uncertainty rolling through her. She is a powerful mage, a respected Altmer, a woman who stood before the greatest of dragons knowing with certainty that she would win, and here she is, turned into a quivering mess at the thought of being intimate with the man she loves. "I've never done this before," she admits softly.

He chuckles lightly and one of his hands glides along her back. "Me neither," he responds. She shakes her head at him, catching the desire and confidence in his gaze.

"How are you not nervous?" she asks finally, slowly pulling back from him. He lets her go, obviously reluctant, and reaches out to take one of her hands.

"Calia," he begins, tilting her head at her. "When they taught you about relations, did they not teach you about pleasing your spouse?" he asks. Her eyes widen and she shakes her head, she can feel the blush start on her chest and flush all the way to her hairline. "What did they teach you?" he asks gently.

She closes her eyes and swallows. "All I remember," she whispers harshly, "is an old Altmer woman, I swear she had to be several hundred years old, she was ancient. And she made it sound… unpleasant."

He hums deep in his throat and the noise sends something skittering along her veins. He uses his hand to draw her back towards him, his arm sliding around her waist and pulling her flush against him. His other arm guides her legs so that they are over his lap, his fingers tracing along the skin of her calf. "It seems that you were done a disservice, Love." His lips ghost against the point of her ear and she shivers. "We males were taught… a slightly different lesson." His breath dances over her skin with each word and she can feel her heart rate picking up speed. "Centered mostly on bringing pleasure to your mate."

"P-pleasure?" she stammers. His head continues moving, mouth barely grazing along her cheek and across her jawbone. She tilts her head to accommodate him as he shifts to her throat. When he speaks his lips brush her skin and she shivers.

"Pleasure indeed. Would you like me to show you?" Her head moves before she realizes it and he straightens, the hand on her calf diving into her hair to hold her still as he presses his mouth to hers. He coaxes her slowly, teasing her lips open with his and then sweeping his tongue inside to curl around hers. His hands seem to be everywhere at once, her arms, her shoulders, her hair, across her legs and teasing her back. She groans and shifts against him, rubbing her legs together as heat builds inside her.

He breaks from her mouth and plants gentle kisses down under her chin and along her throat. "I do love this bench," he says and she is only half listening to him, keenly aware of where his hands are as he moves, turning her and sliding to his knees on the floor before her. His hands slip up the inside of her legs, easing them open so that he can kneel between them. "And this robe," he adds as his fingers finally move to the knot and begin to loosen it. "I knew it would look ravishing on you." He presses a hard kiss against her throat, just above the amulet and she swears he is taking an eternity to get the belt untied. "As lovely as it looks on, I think it would be better off." He pulls the belt out with a flourish and drops it to the ground and then he shifts back, his eyes on her face as his hands gently push the material from her shoulders. She arches her spine, bending forward to allow it to fall and puddle around her waist and elbows.

She lets out a startled cry when instead of diving to her chest like she anticipated he ravishes her mouth again, lips, tongue and teeth showing her just how much he desires her. He helps her draw her arms from the sleeves of the robe and her hands curl against his back, fisting in the silk of his own robe as she moans into his mouth. His hands smooth over her stomach and along her abdomen, up to cup her breasts. He starts out slowly, massaging them gently and then his thumbs ghost over her nipples and she gasps, breaking the kiss to stare at him in amazed pleasure.

He smirks and presses a swift kiss to her lips before his mouth moves, lips and tongue working across her skin as his thumbs press harder against her. One of her hands curls into his hair and the other grips his shoulder as pleasure she has never known gathers low in her abdomen. "Ondolemar," she gasps and then he wraps his lips around one of her breasts and she cries out as the pleasure ratchets to a new level.

He spends time lavishing attention on her breasts as his hands move down further and tug at her robe. She dazedly lifts her hips so he can remove it and before she can sit down, his hands slide under her ass and grip it. His mouth moves from her chest and he draws her hips forward until she is at the edge of the bench, his tongue dragging across her skin to dip into her navel. His shoulders ease her thighs open further and part of her wants to squeeze them shut, even though his body is in the way. "Just relax and trust me, Love," he whispers into her lower stomach. "I've got you."

She blinks down at him in confusion and then his breath caresses her most intimate area followed immediately by his mouth. She gasps, one hand gripping his hair as her body curls under him, hips moving on instinct, pushing towards the source of pleasure. Her head drops against the cushioned back of the bench and she cannot stop the groans that echo from her body, practically filling the house. He works her over slowly and steadily, teasing and taunting her, lips and tongue sneaking into all the dips and folds of her until finally he latches onto an area that sends her hips shooting towards him. He holds her steady, one hand pinning her waist and the other caressing her chest as he devours her like the finest of wines.

She can feel it building inside her, something heavy and so good it almost hurts. She reaches for it, straining to take it and worried what will happen when she does. His words echo in her head as her fingers twist into his hair, though she is not sure if she wants to push him closer or pull him away. He increases his efforts and she feels a gentle brush against her and then two of his fingers slip inside and curl, pressing the soft flesh and tilting her world sideways. For a moment, it feels like all the muscles in her body clench and then everything releases in a rush, ripples of sensation pulsing through her body from her core out.

She collapses against the bench with a gasp, slumped languidly across it as she tries to catch her breath. Ondolemar is still between her legs, lapping at her gently and she tugs weakly at his hair. He presses one final kiss against her and then untangles her hands from his hair and slides up to join her on the bench, drawing her against him and kissing her forehead. "How are you?" he asks softly.

She cuddles into him and sighs, opening her eyes to gaze at him. "Ondolemar," she exhales, feeling almost drunk on the way her body feels in that moment. "That was amazing." She inhales slowly to try and calm her heart rate. "They taught you how to do that?"

His face flushes pink and he swallows. "Yes," he answers quietly. "They brought in volunteers, couples, to demonstrate. Both for men and women."

"I wish I had been in your class," she mutters and he chuckles, wrapping his arms tighter around her and drawing her more firmly against him.

"Ah, but this way, I can teach you," he returns. Her eyes light up and he catches her face. "But not right now," he continues and she frowns at him. He chuckles and kisses her lower lip. "I have waited a very long time for you," he says. "I have no intention of waiting any longer."

"Ondolemar," she starts and he pulls her into a kiss, tongue sweeping deeply in to taste her as he guides her back on the bench. He manages to maintain the kiss as he pulls at his own robe and discards it and then catches her legs, nudging one of them so that it hangs over the edge of the bench and folding the other up over the back. Calia desperately wants to get a look at him, but he refuses to break the kiss and it is only a matter of moments before he is probing at her opening. She pulls her legs open wider and he reaches down and lines himself up, sliding home, all the way to the hilt.

She pulls her mouth away with another gasp, the sensation new and glorious. "It doesn't hurt, does it?" he asks, and he sounds almost as if he is in pain.

She shakes her head. "No," she assures him. "Does it hurt you?" His face is pinched and she cups his cheeks.

He lets out a strangled laugh and his head drops slightly. "No, by Auri-El, Calia. You feel amazing. Almost too good." He opens his eyes and smiles at her. "I'm not sure how long I'll last."

"Oh," she exhales as realization washes over her. He slides out and back in and she tilts her hips, groaning as pleasure again starts to build. He guides her legs, folding them both around his waist and then his hands press into the cushion next to her head as his hips gradually move faster. Her hands clutch at his back, nails dragging over his slick skin. He shifts, bracing himself on one arm and using the other to tilt her hips up before he presses his hand against her stomach and his thumb finds a spot that sends her brain to mush and has her moaning wildly.

His head drops and his forehead presses to hers, their breath mingling. The tension is building inside her again and now that she knows what she is reaching for, she gets there faster, his name a broken cry on her lips as her body clenches around him. He groans and his arms wrap around her, holding her tight to his chest as his hips plunge into hers over and over at an almost impossible speed before he grunts and shoves himself tight into her and she can feel him release. His hips move shallowly and then stop and he sucks in a deep breath and covers her face with soft kisses before finally meeting her lips to kiss her deeply.

He starts to pull away and she tightens her legs around him until he relents and stops moving, instead bracing his elbows near her shoulders so he can look at her. He strokes her hair away from her face and kisses her forehead. "Are you okay?" he asks. Her body is relaxed, almost boneless, and she nods her head in response, too lethargic to speak. He wraps his arms around her and pulls her tight against him and she squeaks.

"I need to breathe!" she teases him, poking him in the side until he loosens his hold.

"It took me so long to find you, I have no intention of letting you go to breath or for anything else. Not for a long time," he responds. He shifts and she can feel him growing hard inside her.

"I can live with that," she replies with a smirk, twisting her hips and drawing a groan out of him. "But only if you teach me how I can pleasure you like you did me."

"Since you asked so nicely," he responds with a grin and she cries out as he moves suddenly, rearranging until he is seated on the bench and she is straddling his lap. She blinks at him in surprise, not entirely sure how he did that. "Really," he whispers in her ear. "It's quite a bit easier for women to pleasure men. If you don't… bite me, you should be just fine."

He is completely stiff inside her and she ignores his words in favor of grinding her hips into his, drawing moans from both. "I don't know," she replies. "I kind of like this." He grabs her waist and guides her movements.

"This is just fine also," he moans, head dropping back against the back of the bench. She arches her spine, breasts pressing against his chest as she rolls her body over his. He follows her lead and soon they are moving in time, their moans a crescendo underscored by their bodies slapping together. He brings her to completion three more times before he finishes with a loud groan and she falls against him with a content sigh.

He presses a kiss to her temple. "As much as I'd like to keep doing this," he starts, "I'm afraid I'll need a rest before the next round, Love."

She eases off him, accepting his hand when he balances her, and then drags him from the bench with a grin. She knows she should feel embarrassed prancing nude through her living room, but she reminds herself that until she is pregnant, wearing little to no clothing is perfectly acceptable unless they have guests.

She starts towards the stairs and then squeals when he scoops her up in his arms and carries her the rest of the way, depositing her on the bed. He crawls up over her and dips down, nuzzling her throat. "I thought you needed to rest?" she giggles, her fingers dancing along his chest, tracing the lines of the emblem over his heart.

"I lied," he responds and as he slides into her again she realizes that for the first time in many years, she is finally happy.

lllll

Calia awakes with a start the next morning to Ondolemar cursing rather colorfully next to the bed. He is trying to pull on his Thalmor robes and is hopping towards the door as well. She pushes up onto her elbow to watch him in amusement. "Ondolemar!" she scolds him after one particularly insulting comment drops from his lips.

His head appears from inside the robes and he offers her a small grin. "You know I'm not talking about you," he says. "I sense somebody trying to break through the spells I placed on the doors. I suspect it is Elenwen." Anger spikes in her gut and Calia slips out of the bed, striding naked through the house and ignoring his surprised yelp. "Calia, what are you doing?" he hisses as he follows her. She collects her robe from the floor of the living room and ties it closed before she picks up his and holds it out to him. "That is not appropriate attire to wear to the door!" he states.

She shakes the robe at him. "And it's not appropriate for her to try and break into my house ever, but especially the morning after my wedding." She steps forward and places a hand on his chest, where she knows her Emblem is. "Plus, I want her to see these," she adds with a smirk. He grins and yanks his Thalmor robes off, tossing them in the corner before he pulls on the other robe. The magical attempts to break through the locking spells are getting stronger. She releases her part of the spell and then glances at Ondolemar who releases his. Calia presses herself against Ondolemar and kisses him deeply as the door bursts open, startling them apart. She clutches at her robe with a gasp that is only half fake and turns towards Ondolemar to shield her body.

"What is going on here?" Elenwen snarls, storming into the house. She comes up short and gapes at the duo. "What are you doing here?" she hisses at Ondolemar.

"The same question could be asked of you," Calia purrs, tilting her head slightly. Her back is still turned towards Elenwen and she is standing so that the other woman cannot yet see the House Emblems. Elenwen's eyes look over the two of them and her face pinches like she just ate something sour.

"I… could sense powerful magic," she stammers. "I came to investigate. I am the First Emissary after all."

"I did not realize that being the First Emissary gave you the right to burst into anybody's house without permission," Calia drawls. "I do wish you would have notified us of your visit, we would have put on something more appropriate." She turns finally and shifts, a gleam of triumph in her eyes as Elenwen gazes at the Emblems on each of their chests. "As it is, my husband and I weren't expecting any visitors."

"Husband?" Elenwen sounds like she's choking on the word and Calia grins and nods. She steps away from Ondolemar and floats into the living room, retrieving the enchanted parchment that is now glowing a deep blue, and probably has been since the two of them made love on the bench the night before.

"Yes, isn't it wonderful!" Calia exclaims. "Ondolemar contacted the Council and let them know he had found me and wanted to bond with me. Since my lineage is so pure they allowed it, even without witnesses! And better yet, they're allowing me back into the Dominion." She moves gracefully back over to Ondolemar, holding the parchment to him. "It's blue, Love. The Council will have received notice by now."

"Indeed," Ondolemar replies and she can hear the laughter in his voice. He arches an eyebrow at her, content to let her play out this little political dance on her own.

She twists back to Elenwen, folding her hands in front of her chest. "Of course, I would love to return home right away, but the Council wants me here for a little while. Something about my influence over the people in Skyrim." She sighs and wrinkles her nose delicately. "Of course, I was assured that our children would not have to be raised here, so Ondolemar and I started trying right away. The sooner I get pregnant, the sooner we can return. Oh, I can't wait!"

"Splendid," Elenwen murmurs faintly.

"Yes, well thank you so much for stopping by," Calia continues, moving forward and obviously ushering the other woman out the door, "but I'm rather anxious to become a mother, so I think we're going to keep working on it." She winks at the other woman who suddenly looks pale. Calia begins to close the door and then pauses and pokes her head out. "Oh, and be a dear, will you and stop by the Winking Skeever and send Jordis back home? After last night, I am just absolutely famished." She grins widely. "Thank you ever so much, First Emissary," she adds and pushes the door closed.

"That was fantastic," Ondolemar murmurs into her hair, pressing himself to her back to let her know just how it affected him. "I forgot how good you are at playing politics."

"I'm quite out of practice actually," she admits, bending forward and pushing back against him. He slides her robe up and his hands trace along her skin, dipping down to test her. She moans when his fingers find her wet and ready. "That was just too perfect to pass up," she exhales as he slides into her.

He leans forward and brushes her hair over her shoulder, planting a kiss to the nape of her neck. "Do you think we can finish before your servant returns?" he murmurs.

"Who cares?" she replies. He chuckles and his hips begin to move, slowly pulling out and pushing into her as he fumbles with the tie on her robe and opens it, his hands sliding along her stomach to her chest. She groans and presses into him, widening her stance slightly to accommodate him.

He takes his time, the movements of his hips languorous as his hands trace every part of her skin he can reach. Calia writhes against him, the motion just enough to tease her up but not enough to bring her to completion. "Ondolemar," she whines and he chuckles against her shoulder.

"Yes?" he responds and she knows he is smirking but she does not care.

"Please," she whispers, head dropping down as tension coils her muscles tight.

"Since you asked so nicely," he replies and then he is pummeling into her, driving her up so quickly her head spins with pleasure as she finishes. He follows her, pushing her forward into the door as he releases, his hands braced against it. They stand for a few moments, both breathing heavily, and then he steps back and turns her so that he can kiss her.

Behind them Jordis clears her throat and Calia peaks up over his shoulder to see the other woman staring pointedly towards the ceiling. "Jordis," Calia greets her with a wide smile. Most servants would have reacted poorly, perhaps screamed or interrupted, while Jordis behaved as she should, waiting patiently to announce her presence. "This is my husband, Ondolemar."

"Greetings, Jordis," he murmurs. She bows her head in response, careful to keep her eyes averted. "I believe my bride is hungry, could you prepare something to break our fast?" She nods and starts to turn away. "And after that we will need to begin packing. I must return to Markarth soon and convince the Jarl to sell me Vlindrel Hall. He is anxious to have the Dragonborn as a Thane in his Hold," he adds, squeezing Calia slightly. "There is a Housecarl there, but he is to be my manservant. You will, of course, accompany us to serve your Thane."

"Of course, Sir," Jordis responds. "It would be an honor." She slips down the stairs and Ondolemar gives Calia an impressed look.

"You have trained her remarkably well," he comments, leading her towards the cushioned bench. "I have never seen a servant respond that admirably to, well, this." He motions vaguely between them. "I shall send word to the Council to inquire if we can bring her with us when we return to Alinor. A good servant is so hard to find, even there."

"That would be lovely," Calia agrees. "And what of this other Housecarl?" she questions.

"Argis is a fine servant," he answers, pulling her down into his lap. "Not as well trained as Jordis, but he could be in the future. And the two of them would suit each other well. After all, if we're going to bring a Nord to Alinor, we must bring it a companion. The Council won't agree to let it in otherwise. It'd be too much of a risk that it would want to mate with an Altmer." He rubs himself against her hip. "Now then," he says. "While she prepares the meal, maybe we should get on to that lesson we discussed last night. What do you think?"

She smirks and slides off his lap, landing on her knees between his thighs. "I think that sounds wonderful," she responds.