Mortal (Book 3)

Chapter 2

Delphine is an idiot, paranoid beyond sanity. I suppose her paranoia is attributed to the fact that the Thalmor wiped the Blades out during the Great War and continue to hunt them to this day. However, that doesn't excuse her completely unsupported belief that the Thalmor are responsible for Alduin's return. I despise them just as much as she does, but I highly doubt they care or know enough about Skyrim to summon such an ancient power. Thalmor soldiers were in Helgen the day of my execution, and they were just as surprised as we were when Alduin attacked. Delphine calls it a "gut feeling." I call it madness.
Either way, it would be very beneficial for a certain Stormcloak spy to find her way into the Thalmor Embassy, so for now I'll let Delphine gloat. Until I can prove her wrong, at least.
"Your invitation, madam." A Thalmor soldier asks me as I arrive at the door. I smile at her and hand her the slip of paper Delphine gave me. Delphine gave me very clear instructions to not let my Nord accent slip, not even a little. She asked me to show her I could do it, and I suppose I failed her test. Now, I have instructions not to talk at all if I don't have to. "Thank you madam, go right on in." She says after examining my invitation.
As I pass through the doors I hold in a sigh of relief. Delphine insisted my invitation would be real, but I don't know how she would have the resources to get such a thing.
"Well. I've never seen you here before." A voice says. I don't know this woman, but just hearing her voice makes me feel inadequate. She's an Altmer, and terrifyingly beautiful. She's at least three feet taller than me, as most Altmer are, but with her the difference seems much larger. "My name is Elenwen, I am the Thalmor Ambassador to Skyrim." She says with a tense smile.
Her gold skin holds tightly to her angular face, despite the feeling that I get that she's quite a bit older than me. I've heard that Altmer can live hundreds of years if left to it.
Two memories surface. The first, my execution. As I passed through the gates of Helgen with Ralof, Ulfric, and Lokir, we passed by General Tullius on his horse, talking with Elenwen on her own as she was guarded by a few of her soldiers. You'd think I'd forget a face that I only bothered to look at for a moment when my mind was so clouded with fear, but hers is a hard one to forget.
I remember her, even as a terrified child hiding behind my mother's skirt as Elenwen and another soldier searched our home for a shrine of Talos or even just a shred of proof of his worship.
I return her polite, yet hateful smile.
"My name is Novariana." and someday, I'm going to kill you. She smiles just a little more, and lets out a chuckle.
"I know who you are, Dragonborn." She says, something terrible in her eyes. She says it only loud enough for me to hear, but Malborn must see the tension in my face as he speaks up.
"Madame Ambassador, we've run out of the Cyrodiilic wine..." He says.
"Malborn, didn't I tell you not to bother me with such trifles?" She snaps at him, breaking her glare to look at him. "I'm afraid we'll have to get better acquainted later. Please, enjoy the party." She tells me before floating away to talk to another guest. Why would she let me go? No time to question it. I meet Malborn from where he stands behind the bar, polishing a mug.
"Hello, ma'am. May I get you anything?" He asks with a slight smile. I register intense anxiety in his mask of calm.
"Where are my things?" I whisper. Delphine instructed me to entrust all of my weapons and armor to this wood elf so that he could smuggle them in. He rolls his eyes, annoyed.
"I can't sneak you in with these guards watching. You'll have to cause a distraction." He whispers back. I sigh and step away from the bar, searching the room for options.
On a bench nearby sits a Redguard man, rocking slightly in his seat and blinking slowly as he takes another swig of his drink. He won't be an option. Across the room I see an unfortunately familiar face. In fact, I see two. One is Jarl Elisif, the other is Erikur, one of the Thanes of her court. Right now he's distracted with a pretty bosmer servant who looks like she'd rather be anywhere other than next to him as he leans over her against a wall. Jarl Elisif stands in a corner holding her drink, completely disinterested in the party.
I cross the less than crowded ballroom to Jarl Elisif's corner. She smiles politely. I respect the fact that she can still find it in herself to like me, despite my standings with the killer of her husband.
"My Jarl, please don't take offense, but I can't say you're the last person I expected to see here." I tell her. She smiles, and for a second her shadowed eyes don't seem so dark. She's only a year or so older than me, no matter how misleading the dark circles may be. I really don't blame her for letting Skyrim go to a rebellion; she was never intended to be a ruler, only the dutiful wife to King Torygg. She never learned how.
"This is true, Stormblade. However, you are. I suspected that you were at the top of the Thalmor's wanted list." She says, swishing her drink around in her cup.
"You and me both... If I could ask a favor, my Jarl, I may require your help getting there." I whisper to her. I hold my breath and wait to see how offended she gets, if at all. Instead of glaring at me, she gives me a knowing smile.
"What do you need me to do?" She whispers back.
"Just a distraction for the guards, my Jarl. Nothing more." I tell her. She nods and gets up from the wall, and begins parading the room in her ballgown, obviously more confident than usual in it. I would be too; it's a gorgeous emerald green with burgundy sleeves and soft gold embroidery around the sleeves. She socializes and shakes hands with the other nobles in the room, smiling as politely as she can; this is what she was meant for. A socialite perhaps, but not a politician. After a few minutes of this she strides past the drunk Redguard, slumped over on a bench. Suddenly, she stops and her eyes go as wide as dinner plates.
"What...! Do you know who I am? I should have you taken up and flogged!" She suddenly exclaims.
"Of course I know who you are... I didn't mean to suggest, that is, I don't even remember saying anything..." The man slurs.
"There's no excuse for your behavior! You behave like you're carousing in a house of ill repute, not the residence of the Thalmor Ambassador!" She shouts, appearing more flustered by the minute. Elenwen, appearing just as distressed, crosses the room to the unfolding situation in just few long-legged steps.
"Razalan. And you promised to behave yourself this time. Remove him. He's disturbing the other guests." She says to the drunk Redguard man.
"Madame Ambassador, you know that I would never have behaved... that is to say... well I swear I'm innocent this time!" Razalan shouts as the Thalmor guards nearby yank him out of his seat. As the struggle continues, I pass silently through the crowd to Malborn, waiting for me behind the bar. He opens a door behind it and guides me through. As the door is shutting, I look back and see that Jarl Elisif is the only one who's seen me, and I wink at her.