Season Unending Part 20

For many years, the Temple of the Divines in Solitude housed only eight of the nine Divines’ shrines, leaving the place where Talos’ shrine should have been an empty space like an ugly sore in the middle. Ulfric had found it offensive every time he had come to visit the temple whenever he was in the city. To remove a god’s shrine did not make him any less a god. In fact, Talos’ absence drew more attention since it created a void in the middle of the setup of the temple.

One of the first things Ulfric had done once he had taken Solitude was to commission a new icon of Talos to be crafted for the temple. The old one had been smashed as a sign of contrition to the Thalmor. The local blacksmiths had worked on it with great fervor day and night until it was completed. Now a new icon, shiny and bright compared to the old ones, rested in the spot. It was a small step towards the liberation of Skyrim.

Ulfric knelt before the shrine with his father’s amulet of Talos resting in the palms of his hands. He could feel Galmar watching him from a respectful distance away, worried about his jarl’s reaction to the amulet they had found in the Thalmor Embassy.

Ulfric wasn’t even sure he knew how he felt about it. Shock at the discovery was the first emotion. He had assumed it destroyed along with countless others the Thalmor had confiscated during the war. Elenwen had never indicated it existed after he became her pet.

Confusion had come next. Why had she kept it? If she had planned to manipulate him with it, she would have made sure he knew she still had it. Made promises to let him see it if he was good. Maybe she hadn’t needed to. She had been able to manipulate him just fine without resorting to bribery. Except sometimes Elenwen liked to drop hints of promises that could be made under just the right circumstances just to keep her pet salivating for a desired treat.

By Talos, every time he thought he had her figured out, she would do something that would make him feel like his head was spinning. He knew if he asked her, she wouldn’t directly lie to him. She thought outright lies were for lesser creatures. But that didn’t mean she wouldn’t answer vaguely or in such a way as to be nonsensical to him. And the fear that him feeling frustrated was part of her plan made him leery to ask her anything.

How did she make him feel powerless when she was the prisoner and he was the jailer?

He had to figure out how he would present himself to her before going back to see her again. Act as if he didn’t care? Attempt to ask her and hope she was in a mood to talk? Not even bring it up?

For a brief second, he considered not going back at all. Leave her to rot alone in her cell until her ransom came and then have her released without seeing her again. But he immediately discarded that idea. Not only would Elenwen have felt that she had beaten him again, but he was not going to lose his chance to make her see what it felt like to be at someone else’s mercy.

He just had to figure out how to make that happen.

-----

The scene in the Pelagius Wing was similar to the last time Ulfric had visited. The room was clean if sparse, a fire crackled in the fireplace, and Elenwen was sitting at the desk writing in a book. The biggest difference this time was that the elf was clothed instead of half naked.

Today she was wearing a short sleeved apricot colored dress with a princess cut neck line. The sleeves were a combination of lace and curlicues of leaves and vines that ran down the sides of the dress. With the way it hugged her body, it was an unlikely combination of modest and sexy at the same time.

Her hair was piled high on her head in a bun composed of a series of intricate braids. A single wisp had fallen free to brush against her cheek. Elenwen brushed it back into place as she looked up.

“You look --,” Ulfric caught himself almost saying “pretty”, but stopped in time, “-- nice today.”

“Thank you, Jarl Stormcloak.” Elenwen smiled at his not quite compliment as she closed her book. Did she notice his hesitation?

“Why so formal?”

“I thought you would appreciate it more,” Elenwen said. She stood and walked over to him. “Thank you for all the clothes.”

“As you said, I’m a man of honor,” Ulfric answered gruffly. It made him uncomfortable for her to be standing so close. Why was he feeling so much more nervous now than when she was naked before?

“You could have selected a few dresses for me,” Elenwen purred, “but you sent my entire wardrobe.”

“It was less hassle than sifting through them,” Ulfric said. It was true. There had been about five chests full of clothing Galmar had unearthed for the Thalmor Ambassador. Ulfric wasn’t really sure what Elenwen needed all that for, but he had decided it was easier than trying to figure out what she wanted. “Besides, we’re cleaning out the Embassy of anything that belonged to your people.” And he knew she would appreciate the grand gesture of gratitude for her “gift”.

“Going to convert it to a base for yourself?” Elenwen smirked. “How pragmatic, how Nordic.” When Ulfric only grunted in response, she said, “What about my jewelry? None of it was included with the rest of the clothes.”

“It was confiscated for the Stormcloak treasury,” he said. “Spoils of war, you know.”

“Fair enough,” Elenwen nodded, leaving Ulfric feeling a bit disappointed. He had hoped she would get angry at the news. “If you don’t mind, you should write a letter to my mother to let her know you have them. Most of the pieces are family heirlooms. She won’t want to lose them and will give you a better price than anyone else.”

“Are you trying to insinuate yourself with me?” Ulfric snorted. “Get on my good side so I’ll be more lenient?”

“More like trying to insinuate myself with Psysha,” Elenwen sighed. She went over to a side table and picked up a decanter to pour two glasses of wine. She offered one to Ulfric who took it with a bemused look. “If she found out I lost those, I don’t know if she would want to pay my ransom. I’m not sure I could live with you dominating me the rest of my life.” She waggled her eyebrows suggestively as she took a drink.

“Don’t flirt with me!” Ulfric snapped. The conflicting emotions of pleased embarrassment and frustration made him feel warm and stifled. “Have some dignity for Talos’ sake.”

“But you’re so much fun to tease, my darling,” Elenwen smirked. “Thirty years later and you’re practically still the blushing virgin I found in my cell.”

“You made sure I wasn’t either of those things by the time you got done with me,” Ulfric growled. He glanced down at his glass. “Where did you get this anyway?” Alcohol was not on the approved list. She was supposed to only get water and basic meals. Ulfric had not forgotten how they had fed him the blandest of foods for two years while he lived in the white room.

“I found it,” Elenwen said. She swirled her glass lazily as if to indicate the rest of the wing. “I don’t have much to do since there’s no one to talk to, so I explore. I’ve found some interesting things including a selection of some very finely aged wine.”

“Elenwen, you can’t --”

Ulfric’s words were cut off when Elenwen slammed her glass down on the table. Red liquid sloshed over her hand, which was tightly gripping the glass. “Don’t you dare,” she hissed. “You’ve already locked me into this hell, and I’ve taken it in good humor. What goes around comes around, after all. But don’t you dare expect me to sit here forlornly every day staring at the walls because I have nothing else to do. I will do whatever it takes for me to not go crazy in here all alone, and you can’t stop me. Not unless you plan on having a crew of men come in and empty this place out. I doubt you’re willing to do that since it would defeat the point of isolating me.”

“How dare you complain?!” Ulfric demanded. He threw his glass on the ground, not caring about the mess it made as it shattered. “You locked me up in a room with nothing in it. Nothing! For weeks I had much less than this. If you have to have a taste of what it’s like for your victims, then good. I hope your mind rots in here. I hope you go mad and wither away in here until nothing that is you is left.”

“You don’t mean that,” Elenwen said softly.

“Why?” Ulfric sneered. “Because I’m still secretly in love with you? Because deep down I still want you? The only thing I want from you is to die. Or do you think that’s not true?”

“No, I believe you,” Elenwen said. She took a sip of her drink. “But I believe you want the money my ransom can bring more, and Psysha won’t pay for damaged goods. So you indulge in your petty vengeance all you want, but you won’t see a septim for me unless I’m more or less whole when I leave here. And as much as you want to break me, you want to protect your precious Skyrim more.”

Gods dammit, why did she have to know him so well? Why did she have to be in his damn head like that? She was right. He wanted to toy with her, but he couldn’t afford a full Thalmor retaliation if Psysha felt insulted by his treatment of her First Emissary.

“I hate you!” Ulfric shouted, his Voice breaking on the last word and the thu’um leaking through. The force of his Voice knocked the glass out of Elenwen’s hand.

The two of them watched in shock as it crashed to the ground. Elenwen looked up, her eyes wide with surprised. She calmed her expression, but not quickly enough. “Hate is just misplaced passion, darling.”

“Shut up!” Ulfric snapped as he spun around to leave. Gods’ dammit! He never should have come here without a plan. He always had a plan, and this is what happened when he didn’t have one. Left feeling like a fool. Well, he’d see how much she liked it when there was no one to torment. He wasn’t obligated to visit that witch, so he wouldn’t. Let her see what it was like to be truly alone.

-----

A week passed without Ulfric returning to the Pelagius Wing. Elenwen passed the time as best as she could. She cleaned the area she stayed in, she read books she found throughout the wing, she wrote her letter to Naule, she organized her clothes into various dressers. Sometimes she’d paint on the walls with handmade materials or try to make some gadget or other. Anything to keep her hands busy and help the time pass.

She knew she wasn’t going crazy. Isolation didn’t work like that. There were people who lived entirely alone for decades without losing their minds. They might end up a little odd compared to others, but not mad. The white room worked because of sensory deprivation, but Elenwen doubted Ulfric understood that. And even if he did, she didn’t think he had it in him to actually utilize it.

Mostly Elenwen was lonely. She was a social creature. She was used to dealing with petitioners or minions with constant questions all day. She was used to working on her experiments or torturing her prisoners. She was used to throwing parties and have everyone vie for her favor. She was used to her life being full of people one way or another, even if none of those individual relationships meant anything.

Being alone all the time left her feeling both restless and lethargic. She wanted to do nothing but lie on her bed, but at the same time she couldn’t relax. But the thought of trying to sit down and read or rearranging the furniture again seemed like too much effort half the time.

Exploring had been the most fascinating thing to do for a long time, but Elenwen was pretty certain she had exhausted most of the mysteries the hall had to offered. She knew it was supposed to be haunted by Pelagius the Mad. Elisif had explained the history of the wing to her once when Elenwen had asked about it when she visited the Blue Palace for some diplomatic visit. But so far she had not seen anything to make her think the rumors were true.

There had been a few times she had thought she had heard some voices whispering in the halls late at night, but she mostly attributed it to her loneliness. It was easy for the mind to conjure phantom sounds when there was nothing to occupy it.

She was mostly surprised at how long Ulfric had been gone. She surely hadn’t offended him that much. By the Eight, she even had helpfully told him about Psysha’s interest in purchasing her jewelry. Surely he wanted as much coin as his coffers as much as possible to supplement his renovation of Skyrim. Markarth had been a huge victory for him for that very reason, so she knew he was in need.

Had she miscalculated how he would react to the amulet? Maybe she should have told him what he would find, but the hunt was so much more appealing than the discovery. She knew it was precious to him. He had explained the history of it before giving it to her.

She sighed as she leaned her head against the broom she was using to sweep her room. Why did he have to be so complicated? People were easier to manipulate when they were simple.

“It’s still weird to see you cleaning,” a voice said behind her. Elenwen forced herself to not jump at Ulfric’s voice. “I never thought I would see such a thing.”

“Just because I’m too good for something, it doesn’t mean I can’t do it,” Elenwen said evenly as she turned to face him. She plastered her customary smile on her face as she studied him. “Besides, don’t you remember me cleaning up when we were roommates together?”

Ulfric snorted. “Putting a single bed roll away in a tiny room does not constitute as cleaning.”

“You say that now, but I distinctly recall you being whiny if the room was ‘completely put away’,” Elenwen teased.

“I don’t remember that.”

“Of course you don’t.” Elenwen tossed her hair over her shoulder. “Human memories are inferior.”

“I hate when you do that,” Ulfric scowled. “Acting as if elves are better than humans.”

“Just Altmer, dear.”

“Well, my company is still better than nothing,” Ulfric smirked. “Or would you rather be left alone with your superior thoughts?”

“I’m at your mercy, Jarl Stormcloak.”

“Do you always have to tease me?” Ulfric complained.

“Only as long as you’re trying to torment me,” Elenwen said. She smoothed her hands over the skirt of her dress. “How would you feel if we were to call a truce?”

“What game are you playing?” Ulfric looked doubtful, but he seemed intrigued by her offer.

“I offered you your father’s amulet as a peace offering, Ulfric Stormcloak,” Elenwen explained. She put her broom away and sat on her bed. She patted the space next to her, mimicking the same action as when they had met privately in High Hrothgar. “Come, please sit next to me so we can talk comfortably. I don’t have a second chair.”

The Nord sat without hesitation this time. Elenwen wondered if it was because he knew it was pointless to argue with her request or if he was just curious.

“Look, you have me as your prisoner. You know it. I know it. But if you think you’re going to get me to beg you for forgiveness or claim that I’m sorry for anything I’ve done as a Thalmor, that’s never going to happen. I don’t feel any shame for what I’ve done, any more than you feel shame for what you’ve done.”

“I’ve done nothing wrong!” Ulfric protested. “You’re the monster.”

“I’m sure you feel that way,” Elenwen said. “But as they say, ‘No one went to war who didn’t think the gods were on their side.’ The simple fact of the matter is that you’re going about this far too heavy handedly. If you want to make me miserable, just go out that front door and don’t return until it’s time to release me. I’ll suffer horribly from boredom and loneliness, but that means you won’t get to watch me experience it. You’ll just have to be happy with knowing.”

“I suppose you have a better solution?”

Elenwen nodded. “Of course I do. It’s my job, remember? You can continue to visit me and silently gloat that you’ve defeated me. And who knows? I might accidentally let something helpful slip or gods forbid I might even crack a bit. But you’ll never succeed if you continue on this route. You just give me fuel to torment you more instead.”

“You’re truly twisted, you know that right?” Ulfric scoffed. “Do you really expect me to believe that you’re going to help me break you?”

“Believe what you want,” Elenwen shrugged, “but the simple fact is that this constant back and forth with you is more exhausting than entertaining. You have all the power and can do as you wish. I’m stuck in this wing regardless. So I can either have someone I can have a regular conversation with daily, or I can upset you enough that you disappear to pout for a week before returning.”

“I wasn’t pouting,” Ulfric sulked.

“Of course you weren’t,” Elenwen said as she patted his hand. “I merely meant that as an exaggeration. You have to admit that although you’re a successful warlord, you’re a horrible tyrant. You’re just too softhearted.”

“You really believe that,” Ulfric laughed.

When he didn’t jerk his hand away, Elenwen took it into hers and scooted close. She leaned closer to him, “I do.”

“Aren’t you cold?” The sudden change in topic made Elenwen sit upright. She blinked in surprise. Ulfric gestured at her green satin dress. “That doesn’t look very warm.”

“It’s not,” she admitted. She could tell by his expression that he was surprised that she admitted to it.

“Then why wear something so fancy just for yourself? Why not wear something practical?”

She laughed. “Because I have nothing else to wear.”

“You only brought Alinor appropriate clothes with you to Skyrim?” Ulfric asked. “What’s wrong with you? I know you Altmer are obsessed with fashion, but there’s a point where it’s just ridiculous. Are you stupid?”

Elenwen looked down at her lap where her hands were nervously playing with her skirt. “I never intended to wear these. I just had them because they pleased me and reminded me of home. I had something warmer, but you took it away.”

It took Ulfric a second to realize she was talking about her Thalmor robes. “If this is some trick to get me to give it back, it won’t work.”

“It’s not.” Elenwen shook her head. “It’s just the truth.”

“By Talos, Elenwen, you should have said something,” Ulfric stood up angrily. He paced the room. If he had been a Khajiit, his tail would have been lashing rapidly. “I can’t leave you in these flimsy things.”

“I told you I won’t wear your prisoner’s clothes,” Elenwen said stiffly. “I would rather be cold in these than degrade myself by wearing that trash.”

“I knew it! I knew this was just more of your manipulations!” Ulfric yelled. His thu’um started to activate, making little things fall over.

Elenwen sighed. This was going nowhere. She stood up and grabbed Ulfric by his arm.

“What are you doing?” he demanded.

“This conversation is over,” she said as she pulled him out of the room. “You can come back when you’re ready to talk.”

“You’re throwing me out? You can’t do that! You’re the prisoner. I’m in charge.”

“Of course you are, darling,” Elenwen said calmly. “That’s why it’s important that you don’t let me see you get all twisted like this. Weakness is not an option. I’m sure I’ll regret you leaving, but what choice do I have? I can’t go, so you must.” She spun him so he was facing her. “I do enjoy our little talks. Try to not let the next one take so long. Maybe bring a stones board? Games of strategy are a classic for the prisoner-jailer relationship.”

With that, she turned him to the door and pushed the stunned Nord outside before he could protest further.

Sighing, Elenwen collapsed against the door and wiped her forehead. Honestly, sometimes she missed when he didn’t talk to her. Or when he would keep his emotions to himself. Or when she could simply shock him into submission.  She blamed his housecarl for making her dear boy more emotional. Although in all fairness, she probably should take some of the blame herself for upsetting him so much when she sent him away.

Oh well, there was plenty of time to try to get him to forgive her. He just had to realize that he wanted to do that.

Now it was time to get back to cleaning her room. Not like she had anything better to do.