Of Eagles and Dragons, The Children of Kyne, Vol. IV Options

[Kane]

Act I

Prologue (4E 230)
Emperor Titus Mede II is dead. Convicted of Treasonous Sedition against the Empire and a Vassal State, the Elder Council cast his Writ of Execution with a unanimous vote on Loredas, the 1st of Last Seed, in the Two-hundred thirtieth year of the Fourth Era. The High Chancellor Anilay Cato was chosen to oversee the day-to-day administration of the crumbling Mede Dynasty, and the former head of state himself was hung from the gallows on Green Empire Way in the Imperial City for all to see.

It was a time of uncertainty in Cyrodiil, for there was yet to be a clear successor to the Ruby Throne, and rumors of Colovian and Nibenese warlords arming up to seize power for themselves were beginning to circulate among the populace. Many citizens of the Heartland secretly wished the Dragonborn king of Skyrim would lay claim by birthright, but so far there had been little news from the northern kingdom.

And with a patience born of long life, the Thalmor diplomats were content to watch quietly from their Embassy while their handlers ruled the Third Aldmeri Dominion with an iron fist. Altmer agents moved about in the shadows to sow discord and discontent wherever possible and worked tirelessly to keep the Empire from once again rising to prominence.

-----

Queen Penolore of the Summerset Isles strolled through the botanical gardens of Alinor with her royal retainer in tow. The ultimate ruler of the Aldmeri Dominion, Penolore reigns supreme over the Altmer of her homeland, the Bosmer of Valenwood, and the Khajiiti of Elswyr with an unrelenting grip. The Thalmor operate solely under her command, bringing order to her subjects and extending her reach over the rest of Tamriel. But on this day, she felt only contempt for the ineptness of the organization’s recent failures in combating the rise of a new alliance of power to the north.

The shrill fops in her retainer had followed her from the palace, prattling on endlessly about matters far beneath her station in a constant bid to curry favor with the monarch. Seeking a measure of peace and quiet, she finally had enough of the bickering for one day. Penolore came to a halt and raised a hand in warning.

“Shut up. All of you will shut up now or I shall have you thrown from the highest tower of my palace. Begone from here if you value your meaningless existences.�

They fell silent in deference to their queen and filed out of the gardens as quickly as possible. Not a single one of them were keen to be present for her wrath should it need to be unleashed upon whichever poor soul tarried. Only a single Altmer remained, clad in the traditional dark robes of the Thalmor.

“Have you more to say, Lisotel? I would have thought your inability to carry out even a single assassination of those miserable whelps to the north would have stayed your sharp tongue. Tell me what value you could possibly still offer your queen when others have been flayed alive for failures of a far less magnitude than your own.�

“I only offer news that our agents deemed relevant, milady.�

“Very well. Spit it out and remove yourself from my sight.�

Magistrate Lisotel hesitated for the briefest of seconds. It would have to be today of all days that he was assigned to her retinue, and a message from Solitude should arrive to their headquarters by carrier eagle. Penolore was already in a foul temper after his Thalmor compatriots failed to squash another uprising in Anequina, and now he was poised to deliver more unwelcome news to the surly queen.

“It is with great regret that our field agents in Skyrim report the return of the High King’s son to the Blue Palace. He apparently was spotted in the city yesterday morning in the company of an unknown Breton woman. Where he had gone or what he was up to over the last thirteen months is still a mystery, but we fear his arrival and reintegration with the royal family will push the king to finally issue a claim to the Ruby Throne.�

The queen had stooped down to examine a budding rose stem while Lisotel spoke and she snipped it free cleanly from the stalk with her pruning shears as the words tumbled from the Magistrate’s overworked mouth. It slipped free of her grasp, fell to the floor, and Penolore ground it to a pulp with the heel of her boot.

“Tell me, Lisotel, have we not discussed the merits of tending to one’s garden on many previous occasions? See how easily that is done? Pruning an errant growth is a simple task that is abundantly important in maintaining a healthy growth; one of which I know your Order is easily capable of facilitating. I am granting you a second chance to do as I have ordered. Should you fail once again, the citizens of Alinor shall bear witness to your entrails displayed upon the ruins of Crystal-Like-Law. Return to me when the task is completed, and not one second sooner.�

Bowing his head graciously, Magistrate Lisotel took leave of the queen. Penolore continued to care for the overgrown rose shrub, snipping off stray stems with malicious intent.

-----

“What news from Chorrol, Brother Cassian?�

“High Chancellor,� greeted the courier. “Brother Indus’ scouts report little movement from the camps deep in the Great Forest. If they have anything planned, it will likely not be for some time. Indus suspects they are having trouble recruiting loyal men for the cause. Of course, this would all be a lot easier to verify if we are given leeway to operate more independently.�

Anilay Cato set down his quill and pushed aside the letter he’d been penning. This wasn’t the first time Cassian had made a similar remark, and the chancellor was beginning to grow weary of reminding the man just how delicate the situation in Cyrodiil really was. A stronger hand may be required soon.

“This again? We’ve been over it many times already, Brother Cassian. I’m giving you the most resources I can without drawing scrutiny from the elves. If they discover the Blades have secretly been reformed, the Dominion will bring war to our doorstep immediately. Do what you can with what I have given you and let’s not speak of this again. There are plenty of other men who would love to be in your position.�

Brother Cassian recognized his dismissal and saluted smartly as he turned to leave. Anilay continued to stare absentmindedly at the door long after it had closed behind his captain. He again found himself wondering if reforming the Blades had been a wise move on the council’s part. The endgame of the it made sense to all involved, but Anilay felt the interim risk was too high, and he’d unsuccessfully pushed to have the vote temporarily stayed.

“Too late now,� he said to no one in particular. And with a heavy sigh, he returned to his unfinished letter.

There was another knock on the door and it took all of his restraint to not fling the quill at it and berate whomever deigned to bother him again. “Come in!�

An elderly Breton woman with long gray hair tied back in a ponytail, poked her through the partially opened door and saluted. “Is this a bad time, sir?�
“No, no, come on in, Delphine,� said Anilay. “Forgive my exasperated tone, I just got done reminding Cassian of our straits and I fear that I shall never finish this correspondence.� He rolled up the parchment and set it aside until the next day. “What can I do for you?�

“I’d like to request something of you.� Delphine entered the study and took the recently vacated seat across from the High Chancellor. After she settled in, Anilay gestured for her to continue. “Might I be sent back north to Skyrim? I know the High King from our time together during the Dragon Crisis, and I may be able to get a better read on his intentions than some of our other agents have.�

“Oh, really? But as I understand it, your time working together did not end well, no? As I recall, he asserted his authority as Dragonborn over you and walked away from your efforts to rebuild the order. What makes you think he’ll let you into his court after all these years?�

Delphine frowned. She hadn’t expected Anilay to be so well versed on her prior dealings as a rogue Blade in Skyrim. Truth be told, her efforts to kickstart the Blades, along with Esbern, in Sky Haven Temple had crumbled to dust after Kirin Windborne had walked away from them. Further recruiting efforts failed, and the wizened lore-keeper succumbed to illness not five years later. For her part, Delphine had faded into obscurity as a farmhand in the western Reach.

“Heard about that, did you? Well, you’re right in that there’s no guarantee, but I don’t know what else I can offer the Blades, sir. I’m old and my days of fighting are long since passed. This at least feels like something meaningful I can contribute.�

“I see,� replied Anilay. “And would you be up for such a journey, Delphine? Autumn is settling in over Skyrim and our men at Cloud Ruler have reported the Pale Pass is already under several feet of snow. It will not be easy going.�

“I’ll manage.�

The High Chancellor studied her for a moment and then he grabbed a new roll of parchment and dipped his quill in fresh ink. He scribbled away while Delphine waited patiently for his decision, wondering where fate would take her next. She had been so hesitant when the rumors of former Blades officers being brought back into the fold were swirling, and it wasn’t until Brother Cassian himself had tracked her down to a small plantation near Karthwasten that she allowed herself to believe they were true. The reality didn’t truly set in for her until she was assigned a room at Weynon Priory, on the outskirts of Chorrol, and asked to advise the younger Captains leading this new iteration of the fabled organization.

Anilay finished writing his new orders, signed, and stamped the bottom with an Imperial Seal before wrapping it up and handing it to Delphine. “Deliver this to Brother Cassian and return to Cloud Ruler with him to begin your preparations.�

“Thank you, sir,� said Delphine. “I’ll keep in touch.�

“A bit of advice, if I may?�

“Sir?�

The chancellor dug around in his desk for few seconds until he found the dossier he was seeking. Flipping it open, Anilay slid out a sketching of Cain Windborne and handed it to the waiting Breton. “If the High King offers resistance, try speaking to his son. I’ve met the man personally and he’s wise, clever, and kind to a fault. Not to say that his father is an ignorant old man, but sometimes younger eyes see things differently. I’ve gathered that Cain is back home in Solitude after being abroad following the death of his fiancé.�

Delphine bowed her head slightly in acknowledgement. Everyone in Skyrim had heard about his loss, and people across the province had mourned for the young woman from Stonehills. There were even gossiping commoners in the taverns at night saying she had been pregnant at the time, but that was never officially confirmed by the High King’s court. If It were true, Delphine didn’t fault him at all for taking some time away, even if his whereabouts were a mystery.

“I’ll keep that in mind, sir.�

“Excellent. Take care on your trip, and dress warmly. I expect a letter by carrier bird as soon as you get settled in at Solitude. You’re dismissed, Delphine.�

Anilay watched her depart and then he glanced back over at his unfinished letter. Deciding it could wait until the morning, the chancellor left his office in search of a strong drink to end the day with. He wasn’t entirely convinced allowing Delphine to intrude on the High King’s court was a good idea, but he’d expected answers from Kirin Windborne for some time now, and was rewarded with nothing.

If another week passes like this I shall have to contact Cain myself. Perhaps the man would be willing to visit me in person.

The White-Gold Tower still bustled with activity in the evening hours, and so Anilay elected to don his commoner clothes and seek a drink at Luther Broad’s, instead.


This post has been edited by Kane: Jun 26 2025, 03:16 PM

[Kane]

Grits: wasn't a pivotal walk or anything like that, just an attempt at moving on.

|-----------------|

Chapter XV - Into the Woods


The barest hint of morning sunlight eked in through the window of Elysium’s master bedroom. All was quiet in the home of Kyne’s champions, save for two slightly sweaty and panting individuals lying as nature intended on top of their blankets. With the brisk autumn air cooling down the land, Cain contemplated donning a robe and heading to the kitchen for an early coffee, but he didn’t want to wake up their guests across the house by bustling about. Gwyn, however, was content to remain in bed for now. She lay on her back with her knees clutched to her chest, cradling her lover’s seed. Never once in her life did Gwyn think she would be where she was now, longing beyond reason for motherhood.

Knowing that sleep would not come again ere it was time to depart, she opened her eyes and turned her head to find Cain staring at her with a thoughtful interest. “What is it?� she asked him. “You okay?�

“Oh, I’m fine,� said Cain. “It’s just that… I don’t think I ever got around to asking you something I’ve been curious about for a long time. It’s not important, I just always wondered.�

“Ask me what? Don’t be coy, just spit it out.�

Cain reached over and ran his fingers through her long, curly hair. It had turned a very bright shade of pastel pink a few moments ago, jolting the forgotten question to the forefront of his mind. “Your real hair color - what is it?�

“Seriously? That’s what you want to talk about right now? Possibly one of the most intimate times in our lives and you ask me what my hair color is?�
Cain shrugged. “Color me curious,� he winked.

“God was that an awful joke,� groaned Gwyn. “I think you were born to be a father.�

“Still haven’t answered me.�

“Because I [censored] hate my natural hair.� She sighed heavily and closed her eyes again. “I started changing it after I left home, which means no one alive has ever seen it. I thought it would be a good way to disguise myself if the authorities ever tracked me down. It took me a while at first to realize it was changing on its own, too. Just another part of me that’s been tainted I guess.� Then Gwyn looked over at him again. “If it was anyone else asking…�

Her face scrunched up in concentration for a few seconds to get the shade right; and then Gwyn’s hair faded back to a hue no one had witnessed in over fifteen years, and Cain’s eyes widened in surprise at the gorgeous locks of strawberry blonde hair. It accented Gwyn’s own eyes perfectly and let each freckle on her soft, pale face jump out spectacularly. And then, just as quickly as it had come, it was gone again, replaced by a dark blue.

“Satisfied?�

“It was beautiful, Gwyn. Otherworldly, even. I love you so much and you don’t ever have to wear it again if you don’t want to.�


The full light of dawn finally came and roused all the inhabitants of Elysium, including their guests. Breakfast with Linneá, Serana, and Salihn ended up being a relatively quick affair while everyone readied themselves and their gear for travel or a return home. Once his sisters and niece had vanished, Cain set out the front door with Gwyn by his side only to find an unexpected surprise. And not a good one. A suad of six men and women armed to the teeth and bearing the uniform of the High King’s elite guard stood at attention by the front gate.

“Lord Windborne,� saluted the captain smartly. “The king has assigned us to be your escort while you traverse the many roads, woods, and valleys of the land. We are at your beck and call and will see to it that you remain unscathed while under out watchful eye.�

“Oh hell no,� Gwyn half shouted. She pulled Cain a few steps back towards their home, out of earshot, and raised a finger up under his chin. “No [censored] way am I traipsing around the province with a merry band of soldiers. You need to do something about this, Cain Windborne, or I will march right back into that house and leave you to do this job on your own.�

“It doesn’t make any sense,� said Cain, scratching his head. “Dad knows we can handle ourselves and he would have said something to me earlier.�

“Would he have? Because it sounds to me like you’d have refused him outright.�

“I definitely would have. Especially since we planned on recalling home from some of the cities to rest and resupply before starting out again. These soldiers would be stuck who knows where.�

“So, what are you going to do about it?�

Cain sighed and grabbed her hand. “Time for a detour to Solitude.�

-----

“This qualifies as a city in Skyrim?�

Cain and Gwyn had just passed underneath Falkreath’s eastern gate when the Breton stopped to survey the scene in front of them with her hands on her narrow hips. A couple dozen homes, one tavern, a lumber mill, blacksmith, a trading post, an apothecary, and not much else lined the road through the small southern capital of Falkreath Hold. Pine trees towered over the quaint stone buildings with thatched roofs, and a massive cemetery tucked away behind a farmhouse drew the macabre attention of most passersby. Their destination, the Jarl’s Longhouse, stood betwixt the branching road cutting straight through the main thoroughfare.

“Crosswych is bigger than this pile of deer [censored] and it’s a forgotten village in bumfuck Glenumbra!�

“Keep your voice down, Gwyn,� muttered Cain. “The last thing we need is for a guard to hear us and run off to the Jarl.�

“Do they even know who we are? Without that ridiculous posse your dad wanted around, we just look like normal travelers, no?�

“Still don’t want to risk it. My face isn’t exactly unknown. Remember it being plastered all over the newspapers in Wayrest? I’m sure the gossip here in Skyrim was just as bad, if not worse.�

“Yeah, all right, you might have a point there,� admitted Gwyn. “So, what’s first? Dinner or do we just get the formalities out of the way?�

“Formalities. Then we can discuss our next move over drinks.�

“Another cheap date it is!�

Cain smiled and then took a seat on a stray section of log near the sawmill. He rooted through his pack in search of the dossier on Skyrim’s Jarls to give himself a quick refresher on Falkreath’s before barging into the longhouse. Once he had it out and opened, Gwyn sat on his lap to read it with him.

“Who’s up first?� asked Gwyn.

“Skulnar. Former Legate of the Imperial Legion that was stationed in Falkreath back during the Civil War. Says here he took over following a unanimous vote by the townsfolk. He must have been very well liked if the locals lined up behind him like that. The former Jarl seems to have been arrested on corruption charges some ten years ago at the behest of the former High Queen, Elisif the Fair.�

“Skulnar is definitely a Nord name,� mused Gwyn. “Prepare yourself for boisterous claims and more than a few pints of mead.�

“Dunno,� said Cain. “Being that he served in the Legion, he’s likely to be more professional than say, Jon Battle-Born of Whiterun.� He scanned through the important points a few more times and then stowed the small book away again. “Shall we?�

“After you, my liege,� teased Gwyn.

She gave him a kiss and together they stood up and headed for the first of many meetings with Skyrim’s ruling elites. The first thing they noticed upon stepping over the hearth was that Jarl Skulnar’s longhouse had a relaxed and welcoming atmosphere. High windows offered plenty of sunlight to illuminate the spacious hall, and a large fire pit at the center offered more than a few tables and chairs arrayed cozily around it. Potted plants were placed in the corners, and local flowers sprouted from hanging baskets dangling in the air above or from the undersides of stairs climbing to loft spaces on either side of the building. The Jarl himself appeared to be otherwise engaged, for his humble throne stood empty at the far end.

“Hail, friends!� came an unfamiliar voice. A burly Nord approached them from a small room tucked under the left-hand stairs. “I’m Helvard, the Jarl’s steward. How can the court help you?�

“You’re up, handsome,� whispered Gwyn. “Don’t forget your manners and you’ll be fine. You’ve got this.�

Cain squeezed her hand in thanks and then responded to the steward. “Well met, Helvard. I’m Cain Windborne, firstborn of High King Kirin Windborne and I seek an audience with Jarl Skulnar.�

“Ah! We were wondering when you’d visit our neck of the woods,� said Helvard. “Redguard, eh? Wager you’re pretty good in a spat. And who’s the young lady with you?�

“Helvard, this is Gwyndala Louvain. She is my, er, - “

“His fiancé,� chimed Gwyn. “Nice to meet you, Helvard.�

That came out of nowhere and almost kneecapped Cain. He found himself staring at Gwyn after she said the words, and he didn’t snap out of it until she dug an elbow into his ribs. If Helvard noticed, he didn’t comment on it.

“Pleasure’s all mine, Ms. Louvain. Now then, follow me to Dead Man’s Drink - boss is mingling with the inn patrons this afternoon and he’ll be more than happy to speak to you there.�

They followed Helvard out of the longhouse and fell in line behind him on the to the local tavern. Cain kept glancing sideways at Gwyn, who seemed completely nonplussed by the way she had tripped him up in front of the steward. And for the first time since Anska’s death, he found himself wishing he could hear the thoughts of the person standing next to him. But that was a subject they’d danced carefully around thus far.

For her part, Gwyn apparently sensed the anxiety rolling off of her normally cool partner anyway. “Relax, idiot. Fiancé just sounds more mature and important than ‘girlfriend’ or ‘mate’. I didn’t pledge my undying devotion as an aside in a conversation with a stranger. That’s a man’s job and I’m a proper lady who knows her worth.� She flashed him a devious grin just before the door to Dead Man’s Drink closed behind them with a thud. “You’ve a lot to learn about living in the upper echelons of society.�

The presence of the Jarl led the tavern towards becoming a very rowdy affair. Loud voices clamored for attention and mugs of mead clanked together while the townsfolk bustled around their leader and vied for his attention. It all came to an abrupt end when Helvard grabbed an empty pot resting on the edge of the cooking spit and bang loudly on it with a wooden spoon.

Their attention to the steward now complete, he dismissed them back to their own tables or back out into the streets. “The Jarl has business to attend now. You can join us again next week!�

Most folk went back to work but a few lingered at the bar, swaying drunkenly over foaming tankards and bottles of ale. An elderly Imperial woman behind said bar absentmindedly cleaned an empty mug while watching the newcomers curiously and wondering what could be urgent enough to prematurely end her busiest day of the week.

Helvard joined the Jarl at a nearby table and brought Skulnar up to speed before sidling up the bar. “Three meads and a glass of red wine, Valga.�

“What’s the occasion? And are they worth the gold I just lost?�

“That’s the High King’s son, so you tell me.�

Valga’s eyes nearly popped out of her head. “By the Nine, is it really? I’ll get the drinks straightaway!�

-----

Night had fallen over Skyrim by the time a proper meal made its way to the table of Cain and Gwyn. A warm stew of root vegetables and ox tail steamed away fragrantly in ceramic crocks alongside a loaf of bread and two goblets of wine. The tavern crowd picked up a little bit since the Jarl and his steward departed, leaving their guests to a quiet evening and another quaint date.

“Should we head home tonight? Or move on to the next town in the morning?�

Cain slid his empty bowl aside and unfurled a map, spreading it across the table between them. “We’re pretty far south, so it might be a good idea to recall. S’pose we should hit either Riften or Markarth next, and both options are one hell of a ways away. We might be further ahead to pay for the carriage out of Whiterun and then continue on foot.�

“Do you think all the Jarls will be so… down to earth? Like Skulnar is? Won’t be such a bad time if they are.�

“Doubtful,� said Cain. “Dad’s notes mention a few of them skew towards difficult.�

“Great.�

“We’ll be fine, Gwyn. They won’t be expecting my secret weapon.�

“And that is what exactly? Some sort of suave charm you’ve kept under wraps?�

“No, it’s you, dork,� laughed Cain. “I’ve watched you make a literal Divine cower after she wronged you. Woe betides to any poor fop that tries to be difficult with me.� Cain refilled their wine glasses and then continued on: “how are things with you and Kyne anyway?�

Gwyn sipped from her glass while she worked out how best to answer that question. The walk she’d taken with Kyne the last time they were together had been somewhat productive, and the Windborne family guardian seemed genuinely intent on righting her wrongs. By the end of it, Gwyn had promised they could spend more time together, just so that they could get to know one another better without influence from Cain and his sisters. When they were supposed to fit that in was a different matter entirely, especially if Gwyn stayed on the road with Cain for the foreseeable future.

“Um. Better, I guess,� said Gwyn. “I don’t get the urge to slap her anymore, so progress? What about you? Did you take your dad’s advice?�

“I’m trying to,� said Cain. “Still not easy, though. I’ve spent so much time and energy making sure exactly that would never happen to you again, and the moment I let you out of my sight…�

“It’s not your fault. You know that, right? And I was serious when I said you deserve the relationship you’ve built with her. Don’t throw that away on my account. Kyne and I will come to an understanding eventually. We can both be a part of your life.�

“I think I’ll look forward to that day.�

Cain finished his wine and surveyed the muted crowd at Dead Man’s Drink. This tavern lacked any sort of charm even moreso than the Bannered Mare and it was not the sort of place he envisioned taking Gwyn to. Even if she had only been teasing them about expensive restaurants in Daggerfall, why couldn’t they go to places like that once in a while? And why couldn’t now be one of those times?

He decided on a whim that it was as good a time as any to go for it. “How often have you been to Daggerfall? Anything meaningful ever happen to you there? A pivotal moment that evokes a strong memory?�

“Where the hell did that come from?� asked a confused Gwyn. “I thought we were talking about Kyne?�

“This place is a dump,� said Cain, lowering his voice. “If you can focus on something tangible, recall us to Daggerfall and we’ll have a real date like I promised we could.�

It was times like this that reminded Gwyn how she had fallen head over heels for this man. Here they were, traversing Skyrim for one of the most important things in his life, and Cain would rather take her galivanting around High Rock on a whim. She still didn’t understand what she’d done with her life to end up by his side, but Gwyn refused to ever take it for granted.

“I’ve got a better idea,� she said. “Take us home. There is something we need to discuss.�

“Are you sure?� She caught Cain off-guard for the second time since their arrival in Falkreath, and this time he was really stymied. “I don’t mind, you know…�

“I know you don’t. But that sort of thing doesn’t mean as much to me as it used to, and we’ll have time for those sorts of adventures one day. Right now, there is only one place I want to be: at home, sitting by the fire with your arms around me.�

This post has been edited by Kane: Jul 30 2025, 11:54 AM