"Are we there yet?"
"For the one thousandth fucking time, Marco." She growled "No we are not."
"Oh come on!" The elf whined from his seat at the back of a covered wagon "We have been doing nothing but marching for two days now. I am going to go mad!"
Ever so slowly her gaze left his face and reached his feet, currently dangling off the same wagon he had been sitting on for the entire journey.
"Hey, don't give me that look!" He calls out "My artistic soul is too delicate to be wasted on marching."
"Delicate" She snorts "Yeah, I can agree with that."
He pauses before palming his face "I walked straight into that one, didn't I?"
"Presented it with criers and ribbons" Minthara nods solemnly "It was quite sad."
Marco groans and leans back into the cart.
A full silent minute passes and the bard finally breaks under the pressure of his own idiocy "Are we there ye-"
"Junia" Minthara growls.
Within the blink of an eye, the Altmer is dragged into the cart, never to be heard from again.
"The man drowns while the rest of us are in a desert." The rider to Minthara's right chuckles "Maybe I should also leave my sword to become a fool, my ass would certainly thank me."
"I think one fool named Stormcloak is enough to last us all of our lives'." Another voice cuts in with a scoff.
Skirnir Stormcloak slowly turns around and gives the offender a glare "Why are you here again?"
"To protect the Crown Princess of course." The Imperial man currently riding a massive saber cat familiar answers with a grin.
The de-facto leader of the Dragon Banner scoffs but does not respond to the obvious provocation, he instead says "I am surprised you even bothered coming, Gracchus. Even General Tullius chose to remain in the Imperial City, and yet the notoriously lazy Battlemage from his army decided to join a diplomatic delegation of all things."
"Besides the influence of such a posting, you mean?" Tiberius Gracchus quirks an eyebrow and laughs when Skirnir's face twists in disgust.
Minthara half-listened in on their conversation as her horse kept trotting ever onwards, her thoughts slowly drifting into the concerns which had been practically suffocating her for weeks now.
She knew it was coming for over a year by this point but the reveal of her heritage was not made any less exhausting because of it. Everyone worth anything was trying to curry favor with her and even the most disinterested heartland noble with two bits of brain to rub together was trying to scramble for any kind of advantage in what they expected would be a new Septim golden age.
They were right of course, even if she did not like admitting any kind of merit to the words of those who irritated her.
That a small civil war almost erupted as the nobles scrambled and was only stopped due to Reyvin's pruning last year and her own growing influence was all the criticism she needed to direct at the fools, and she had enough beyond that to write an entire book!
All of this only served to firm her resolve in the plan currently forming within her mind.
She was snapped back into reality as the recently renamed Hortator's Way road opened up and revealed the lands of Morrowind beyond, bereft of any and all of its previously notorious ash storms and covered in what looked to be endless slowly growing grass and shrub.
It was a land in the process of such absolute transformation it could be felt in the very air as even the by now thoroughly beyond human demigoddess felt the air easier to breathe and quite refreshing to boot.
Morrowind was, in short, everything the rumors said it was not.
And she knew it was all by the work of only one person.
But she could not spend more time to consider all of it as their procession slowly ground to a halt, their way barred by what looked to be a cohort's worth of Dunmer infantry wielding long spears and wearing solid metal armor.
And to their front were a trio of individuals.
A priest of Azura, the robes giving his position away quite easily, an imperial Legate which was self-explanatory, and an elf clad in orichalcum armor that she was pretty sure was some kind of Ashlander tribesman if she remembered the lessons she was forced to cram before Titus sent her east.
What an odd choice for a welcoming committee.
The moment the thought occurs her eyes narrow 'It is probably one of his inside jokes, isn't it?'
------
The group sent to receive and escort her one hundred or so guards and emissaries proved themselves to be quite informative as they marched on to the city of Kragenmoor, the Azuran priest being a veritable fount of information as he accompanied Reyvin for most of his pre-crowning journey.
Minthara was quite impressed by all she heard from the outside perspective, but she also spent most of the way to the city with her expression flat and her eye twitching. How dare he have fun while she suffered!
Still, she would not spend her entire trip bemoaning her fate and instead focused on being productive by interrogating the Legate and what remained of his cohort on every single detail of the war.
She found it odd how the priest tended to exclude events not featuring Reyvin from his retelling but chalked it up to fanaticism easily enough. The Legate's somewhat dry report was far more informative anyway.
And by the gods, by the time he was done speaking she was no longer quite as relaxed about getting Morrowind on board because if the Dunmer could so utterly ruin the Argonians in battle she needed that force on her side no matter what.
Well that, and it was the perfect excuse to force her into following through with her plan, that grew more and more terrifying with each step taken.
-----
The evening saw them approaching the small Dunmer city, its battlements resplendent after fresh repairs and its many streets alight with activity as the people gathered to witness the historic event.
Minthara was utterly calm as her delegation was led down the main road within the walls, her eyes rapidly scanning the many reactions of both the crowd and soldiers surrounding them as they marched.
The vast majority of the crowd was composed by Dunmer, with the odd Imperial merchant or skulking Argonian here and there, and the very same majority of elves looked upon the delegation with a mix of suspicion, curiosity, and even anger in some cases.
The reasons behind those emotions and reactions would take her hours to sift through so instead of worrying about it further she thanked the divines that no one would try anything stupid and kept riding forth with her head held high.
A level of composure she found rather difficult to keep as they were led into the luxuriously refurbished city hall and her host came into sight and for the first time in months she came face to face with a smirking dark elf lounging atop an elaborate throne and staring her dead in the eyes.
She did find the fact his eyes brightened upon seeing her quite pleasant though.
Reyvin, utterly uncaring for the fact he was surrounded by his advisors, gave her a conspiratorial wink before clapping his hands and standing up, utterly silencing the room without so much as saying a thing.
"Be welcome, my honored guests and friends from Cyrodiil, to Morrowind!" His smooth voice cut through the ensuing silence as he spread his arms gregariously.
Quickly gathering her composure, Minthara forced a perfectly polite smile and ever so slightly inclined her head "We thank you for your hospitality, Your Grace." Taking her cue the leaders of her entourage quickly echoed her words.
Reyvin's lip twitched upwards "And we are quite delighted to see you once more, Your Imperial Highness. Please, I am certain your march has left you tired and famished so feel free to partake of the feast, we can proceed once everyone has been properly fed and watered."
Before they can actually take him up on the offer he adds "Your Imperial Highness, Chancellor Jukullus, do kindly join us here on the high table."
She made a point of not skipping over to him and waited for her companions to move with her, leaving behind her more warlike followers to their feasting while the diplomats sent by Titus went with her and were promptly sorted along the seats opposite of the Dunmeri delegates.
The natural exception were of course, Lydia and Junia who were practically glued to her sides, a fact that was not disputed by their hosts.
"Junes, Lydia" Reyvin made it a point to greet them "I am happy the two of you are still kicking."
"Flame-Tongue" Lydia nodded "I knew you'd end up like this."
"Oh please, you will make me swoon" The Hortator grinned.
Minthara stopped her finger from twitching but the amusement in the dark elf's eyes told her quite clearly it had been noticed 'He is going to be so insufferably smug about that...' She realized with dread.
"Sir." Junia, ever the professional, simply saluted and took her position behind the seats, right next to a pair of giant automaton and ancient snow elf.
Minthara and Jukullus took their seats and quickly scanned the group of elves seated to Reyvin's right.
There were six of them but the only one she recognized was Davos, who looked like he wanted to be anywhere but there but was no doubt forced into participating by being the Hortator's right hand.
The other five were an eclectic mix of elves ranging from young to old, from scarred to magically powerful to perfectly mundane yet with cunning in their eyes. In short, they were the Great Lords and they all wore their livery proudly so as to make both their position and identities easily recognizable.
Well, all except the Telvanni, who looked so utterly done with the whole situation he was half a second away from teleporting away back to his tower.
Only the automaton staring him down the entire time stopped him from doing so.
Once everyone was seated, Reyvin rose again and lightly struck his glass with a knife "Once more, allow me to welcome you all to Kragenmoor and by extension Morrowind. Please, feast, drink, and be merry. I am certain our cooks will have prepared something new and interesting for your palettes." He rose his cup and took a sip.
The Dunmer all saluted him as one and soon the humans and few elves from the imperial delegation followed along and the room rapidly descended into the wall of noise one might expect of such a meeting.
Not that that stopped the particularly enterprising members of both sides from already beginning negotiations.
(Reyvin's POV)
"Keeping all prim and proper I see." I tease Minthara, my smirk hidden by my cup, as she tries and fails not to fidget in silence "Afraid the people will gossip?"
The fingers of her hand currently holding her drink twitch, creating small cracks across the whole goblet that she then unconsciously repaired "As if I care what they all think." Before I can tease her further she raises an eyebrow "Besides, I don't see you doing anything either."
My lips twitch into a smirk "That is because I draw immense amusement from your embarrassment" And with a bit of magic fuckery my voice suddenly moves from my lips to her ear and I channel my inner Mephalan into a purr "I did miss you so very much, do not doubt it."
She remains utterly still to my eyes, but I see her channeling alteration magic to keep down what would no doubt be an atomic blush. She gives me a sideways glare "Oh fuck y-" And pauses, turning to me fully and pointing at me threateningly "Don't you dare."
I snort and summon a goblet of Dagoth brandy "Very cute."
(General POV)
She wasn't cute damn it!
But as usual, her grievances went unheard "Want some brandy?"
She tries glaring him down but all it takes is two silent seconds before she succumbs and her shoulders slump in defeat "Yes, thank you."
The far too amused elf just keeps smirking as he floats the drink to her.
She takes a short sip and feels her eyebrows rising "This is... certainly odd." It was almost like a perfect mix of bitter and earthy with just a slight tinge of sweet added to it.
"It is as if someone made the recipe to satisfy my tastes to perfection" He explains even as his eyes track a pair of Imperial and Dunmer diplomats, a certain Tor and Sadras, currently shouting at each other over some trade proposals "It is uncanny."
"Mhm" She hums, and unconsciously takes another sip "So, what is the plan?"
"The plan?" The inevitable pretend ignorance comes.
"Yes, Reyvin" She repeats thinly "What is the plan? We have agreed on a general outline that we would cooperate, but both you and Titus have been very vague on how you plan on doing it." She knew this was meant to be her showing of winning the allegiance of an entire province but they did not need to make it so frustrating.
"I don't know, Dreaded Dragon Overlady" He drawls, obviously enjoying this far too much "What are your plans?"
"Gods fucking damn it Reyvin" She sighs, her resolution growing "What is our end goal?"
She had been worrying herself half to death on how far she could push Reyvin's new subjects without alienating him and his current flippancy was not helping things, especially since he seemed to know it too.
He plops his left elbow on the table and lets his head fall into his hand "Why to finish negotiations in a satisfactory manner of course."
She made a point of ignoring the effect his lazy smirk had on her "So you don't care how it turns out?"
"I obviously do care." He shrugs as he leans back into his throne "But you seem to be forgetting one rather important fact."
"What fact?" She asks immediately.
"The fact that we are still very much on the same side." He points at her "I may be Hortator now by my goals remain unchanged, all that has changed is that I can now fix a part of the world which has been drowning in darkness for eras unending. The results of these negotiations are yours to decide, either way I get what I want."
"So what" She snaps at him with a hiss "I am suppose to prove myself?"
Reyvin snorts and before she can grow truly furious raises a placating hand "Oh please. Minthara you have already proven yourself to me many times over."
She blinks and fails to stop the dusting of pink from overtaking her cheeks.
"So you don't have to worry about that" He smirks "What you do need to worry about however" He points an open hand to the crowd "Is proving yourself to them."
'So that was his game...' "Of course" She sighs and downs her entire drink, and stares into his eyes with a previously missing intensity "You will regret that later."
He just wiggles his eyebrows "I wouldn't be so certain."
But this time she does not react and their conversation slowly trails off, the admittedly comfortable silence lasting for some twenty minutes before Reyvin once more stood up and signaled the start of the negotiations.
And with that, hours passed as the most persistent bloodhounds of both sides descended upon each other with such an intensity even Dagon would be impressed, the most experienced and canny diplomats of both Morrowind and Cyrodiil making full use of their moment in the spotlight to make the most of the meeting for both themselves and their homeland.
Multiple proposals were presented from both sides, anything ranging from full integration to absolute autonomy to a straight up confederate alliance, both sides kept voicing their own grievances and concerns, trying to get any kind of advantage possible and holding nothing back in their attempts to do so.
Reyvin found it all delightfully entertaining, as the levels of snide and sarcasm between the barely polite diplomats reached such deep and convoluted forms even he was impressed and kept rising his glass whenever someone said something particularly vile yet veiled in perfect decorum.
The two leaders spoke rarely, only really doing so to clarify certain misunderstandings and voice absolute conditions that would not be negotiated on, their voices and presences serving to keep everything on track and to stop the more hot blooded amongst their subjects from taking things too far.
The two things everyone agreed on immediately in principle were increased trade and an alliance against Alinor, everything else was negotiable.
By the time the sun set, the details and nuances of the renewed alliance had reached such a mindnumbing level of complexity, if they were to be put to paper it would turn out as a comically oversized scroll the length of the chamber they were currently occupying.
And Minthara found she had had well and truly enough of the squabbling.
The Crown Princess of Tamriel stood up and allowed a bit of her true presence to show, utterly shutting up everyone in the room and drawing some very hostile looks from some of the more prideful Dunmer.
"I see we are getting nowhere with all this." She states, accusing both sides equally "We all wish for a better future where we do not fight each other simply because we share borders, we all wish to be free of the ambitions of the Thalmor, and we all wish for our peoples to prosper. Am I wrong or are there fools with ambitions beyond their means still among this... gathering of the worthy?"
Her voice, ever so slightly tinged with the Thu'um, rings out and is greeted only with dead silence.
"You were given an opportunity to come to an agreement but I see that you have all lost yourselves in the game at the expense of our true goal." She glares and her expression firms "And so, as the Crown Princess of the Empire and blood of Akatosh, to our staunch friends the Dunmer I offer this."
She faces the five Great Lords and one right hand "Morrowind will fully integrate itself into the Empire, the Dunmer will be given all the rights and accompanying duties bound to the citizens of Cyrodiil, Skyrim, and High Rock."
A few of the Dunmer look just about ready to jump up and start accusing her of treating them like dirt but the raised hand of their Hortator stops them "Let her finish, I am also curious."
Albeit reluctantly, they all sit back down.
"Thank you" Minthara smiles thinly "In return for my demands of your loyalty and service I offer you the ultimate privilege" She pauses before turning and staring Reyvin dead in the eyes "I offer you a throne beside my own."
She will admit, she rather liked how he completely stilled at that.
(Reyvin's POV)
'So that is what she meant... Well fuck.'
---------------
Ah if only being put on the spot produced enough stress to make stones outright...
Too bad we must settle for the usual method.
Get to work!
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