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]

Chapter XXIV – The Emancipation of Gwyndala Louvain

Gwyn said nothing. She didn’t really know what to say or where to begin. How does one who is uncomfortable with strangers casually strike up a conversation out of the blue with someone they’ve just met? Let alone with one of the Nine Divines of whom watched over all of Nirn, and were worshiped every minute, every hour, and every day throughout the known land. With Kyne, it had been different: she sought Cain wherever he may have been, which at the time just so happened to be in Gwyn’s cabin, and so the two of them became acquainted without the need for awkward pleasantries. In this instance, however, Gwyn found herself floundering under pressure.

“You need not be so nervous, Gwyndala,� reassured Mara. “I am not so different from my sister, even if our responsibilities lie elsewhere. I love all my children the same way that Kyne does, which, in a way, makes us family as well.�

“That doesn’t really help my nerves,� said Gwyn. “Look, I’m not one for casual chitchat with strangers, so can we just get to the point? Why are you here?�

Mara smiled radiantly from ear to ear and in a manner that made Gwyn instantly regret her brashness. “I see my sister did not undersell how blunt you can be. I must say, it is a refreshing departure from the intense fawning that usually occurs when I visit my acolytes in the temples.�

“Glad I could help.�

“Please stop dissembling, Gwyndala.�

The Breton eyed her warily. She ought to have guessed a goddess of Mara’s nature would be able to peel back her defensive veneer with little effort. In truth, Gwyn wasn’t even sure why she bothered when the intentions of this little rendezvous were prearranged by Linneá and Kyne.

“It’s understandable that you are apprehensive about this. I gather Mrs. Windborne arranged this of her own volition?�

Gwyn nodded.

“Then I’m sure it is hard to relax,� said Mara. “But please understand; I am only here to help, my dear. You have a dark past filled with trauma that to this day affects you in ways that are not understood. The strides you have made with Cain are admirable, especially in light of what he himself has endured since finding his place in this land. I can sense how deeply you two are now entwined… and do I hear wedding bells in your future?�

“And a family of our own if we’re ever allowed to live our lives,� Gwyn spat. “Er, sorry. Can you tell I’m frustrated? It’s bullshit that we had to be separated so soon after finally settling down at Elysium. Everything I dreamed of came together with a neat little bow and now here I am chasing ghosts in the middle of [censored] nowhere while he’s all alone, miles and miles away.�

“I see. You two really have not had much time to be yourselves, have you? I wonder if stepping out of the public eye for an extended period should be arranged. A lack of politics and adventure may be beneficial for you both.�

Leaning back against a withered tree, Gwyn closed her eyes and allowed herself to dream of such a thing, if only for a moment. Somewhere secluded, like her old cabin, where she and Cain could simply be. No jobs to do, no elites to schmooze, no fires to put out. A peaceful life, day in and day out. It felt too good to be true.

“As lovely as that sounds, I don’t think it’ll ever be attainable, ma’am,� sighed Gwyn. “Not while he’s next in line for a throne that will soon be vacated. No, I need to accept that this is who we are now.� She paused and idly picked at some dirt under fingernails while deciding it was time to get back onto the topic that Mara had been summoned for. “That having been said, you never did tell me why you are here.�

“I suppose that is true,� conceded Mara. “Linneá cares for you as if you were her own flesh and blood sister, Gwyndala. She worries for your well-being and the manner in which your past has altered your self-perception.�

“In other words, it bothers her that I don’t like myself.�

“I believe your use of the word ‘hate’ is what she truly struggled with. She sees you as a strong woman; capable of anything, intelligent and perspicacious, and, above all, loved deeply by those around you. She cannot comprehend the disdain that you feel for yourself, or what it could be rooted in. You must forgive her for this – while Linneá’s life has not always been easy, her formative years were vastly different from your own.�

“So, she wants you to fix me. Like it’s supposed to be that easy, right? A quick prayer to the Goddess of Love and Mercy and behold! Gwyn is normal again.� She laughed cynically and cradled her head in her hands. “Doesn’t she realize if I actually knew what the [censored] is wrong with me that I’d try to fix it? At least her brother loves me for who I am and not who I could be.�

“I’m sure that Cain would also like to see you whole again,� said Mara while placing a comforting hand on Gwyn’s shoulder. “He knows you intimately and shares that deep pain with you. I have no doubt he too yearns to see you love yourself, as he loves you.�

Gwyn’s head began to swim. All of this amounted to one thing thus far: talk. It was all talk. She’d given up long ago on what everyone else wanted for her and had become content to soldier on the only way she knew how. Finding Cain and building what she now had with him was simply a bonus to her: an unexpected boon on an otherwise dismal existence that Gwyn recognized and held as tightly to her breast as she possibly could. And now, after thinking she had fallen lockstep into her new family, they sought to do everything they could to help her.

Why am I so resistant to that? Gwyn asked herself. What is so bad about them wanting to help me?

But in the end, she knew, of course, that it all came back to the same point.

“You are correct, dear,� said Mara. “You resist their help because you think it to be impossible. That this is just who you are, and no amount of talking, or doting, or encouraging will ever change that.�

“And you believe otherwise, ma’am?�

“I do, Gwyndala. I have to, otherwise I cannot offer the compassion that so many in this world so desperately seek.� Mara vacated her spot beside Gwyn on their impromptu fallen log bench and summoned a carved wooden chair directly across from the Breton. “If you would allow it, I’d like to examine your heart. Not the physical construct that beats within, but that which harbors who we really are, at the very center of oneself.�

“What do you seek to find?� asked Gwyn. Her leg bounced nervously against the cold earth. The idea of a divine peering into the deepest depths of her soul caused her some consternation. A lot of darkness resided there, and she loathed to feel it unleashed again. And to subject anyone else to it, immortal or otherwise.

“I have a suspicion about what is there, buried under the years of regret and personal anguish. And I feel it must be acknowledged, if you are to ever move forward permanently into the light. No one deserves to live the way you do, Gwyndala. The innocent should not be made to suffer for the sins of the evil.�

Apprehensive tears welled in the corner of Gwyn’s eyes, and yet, a measure of hope began to brim just under the waves, frothing in a way she never thought possible. A part of her wanted to run – to flee before the divine who sought to help her – and dive right into the arms of her lover, who could whisk her far away from it all. But he didn’t deserve that either. Love her as Cain did, he did not deserve the broken version of Gwyn that would continue to exist because of that cowardly act. If there existed one being who might be able to untangle the darkness that warped who she was, it sat across from her at that very moment, ready and willing to help.

“Um. O-okay,� she stammered, wiping tears on the cuff of her sleeve. “I-I, uh, sure. Go ahead.�

“Are you certain?�

“Y-yes,� nodded Gwyn. Then, more confidently: “Yes. I’m sure.�

Mara reached out and took Gwyn’s hands in her own. “Breathe in deeply and then exhale. It will be over before you know it.�

The world darkened. The years of pain were peeled back, left raw and blistering for the goddess to feel. And without warning, Gwyn once again found herself in the last place she ever wished to be: Crosswych, the remote village of High Rock where she had been born. A small house at the end of the outermost lane harbored a secret know only to a select few, soon to be unearthed by the local constable following the disappearance of a teenage girl. Inside that house, all was still. The lights had been snuffed out to provide the illusion of bedtime for its inhabitants, and the windows were locked shut to keep noise from escaping. On the bare earthen floor of a candlelit cellar lined with crates of preserved goods, Gwyndala Louvain rocked back and forth in an improbably large pool of blood, sobbing so violently that it painfully constricted her chest. The stunted remains of three men were strewn about the room, torn apart by the despair of an innocent child who would never be the same.

And directly in front of Gwyn laid her mother, the vile woman who sold her own flesh and blood for an inconsequential amount of gold.

Though she would remain unconscious, Ardine Louvain still clung greedily to life, her arm missing from below the shoulder, while Gwyn wept over what she had done to a mother that didn’t deserve the unbridled love that only a child could offer. She wanted, no, she yearned to hate her for mother for what she’d done to her. For allowing the disgusting pigs to rape her week after week just to hear the Septims jingle in her coin purse. But it was her mother, and Gwyn hated herself for still loving her. She hated herself for grieving over what she’d just done to defend herself.

How long Gwyn sat there and wept she did not know, but eventually there were no more tears left to shed. A hollow and empty feeling of numbness set in a few hours before dawn, and she finally dragged herself upstairs to gather some belongings with the intent of fleeing to her auntie’s house in Glenumbra.

The memories ebbed, and Mara severed the probing connection. The salty waters of lament adorned the goddess’ eyes, but she did not wipe them away. Instead, she placed a warm, comforting hand on Gwyn’s tear-streaked cheek and rubbed it softly.

“I should have known,� she spoke, soothingly. “Listen to me, dear… Loving your mother despite, the horrendous acts she committed, does not make you a terrible person, Gwyndala. Please do not continue punishing yourself for something that lies so beyond your control. We cannot help but love those who give us life, nor can we choose to cast away their influence. But I say to you now that every ounce of who are is a better person than Ardine Louvain ever hoped to be, and you should never forget that. Our actions define who we are, Gwyndala, and the fact that to this day you still bitterly mourn what you did to your mother serves only to illustrate the deep compassion for others that you possess. You are not broken, and you need not loathe who you are because of that act. Do not bury the pain any longer. Share it with those that love you and seek the mothering touch you desire from someone who would freely give it.�

Gwyn buried herself in Mara’s loving embrace. She wept for many long moments, dampening the blinding whiteness of the goddess’ smock with unnumbered tears under the soothing touch of eternal grace.

“I never understood why I couldn’t her let go,� she eventually sobbed. “I hated her so much, and then one day, without even realizing it had happened, I hated myself, too. And I couldn’t stop it. It just snowballed further and further and further until there was nothing left of myself that I did like.�

“Difficult as it may be to see, you were not so hopelessly lost, Gwyndala. Or you would not have recognized Cain for what he would become. How much he would grow to mean to you.�

“He means everything to me, ma’am. Everything. We saved each other from the brink, and he’s given me so much while asking so little in return.� Then she became aware of the deafening silence in her mind, and Gwyn extricated herself from Mara’s arms and sat bolt upright. “I need to go see him. Now. I can’t hear his thoughts – something is wrong!� She stood up and began to pace frantically, struggling to focus on his location while the recall spell sputtered erratically in her palm.

“Hush, child, everything is as it was,� said Mara. “I shrouded his presence while we connected and have continued to do so for the intervening time since. You needed to grieve, and I allowed you to do so unimpeded. Cain is perfectly safe and is still enjoying a bowl of chowder in Dawnstar.�

Breathing deep sighs of relief, Gwyn ceased her pacing and stood stock still. She felt instinctively that more time ought to have passed since her walk with Mara began, and yet it might have only been moments. How much time had they been together if she also gave Gwyn the time she needed?

Mara sought Gwyn’s hand again and ushered back into a seating position. “Please relax, Gwyndala. I promise you again that everything is fine. But you and I have been together now for a day and a half. You had a lot of feelings to grasp, and they required time to sort out. Time that Akatosh was willing to grant.�

“A day and a… can I leave now?�

“Not yet,� said Mara. “You are emotionally drained, and you must rest.� She squeezed the hand of Gwyn still clasped within her own, and placed her in a deep, resting slumber. “Sleep well, child.�

-----

The sun began to set over the Western Reach when the fluttering of tent flaps interrupted Linneá’s solitary evening meal. Sitting fireside in the same place they’d made camp the day before, she earnestly waited for Gwyn to rejoin the land of the awaken. The tiny woman emerged from her tent, stretched her arms and legs to work out the kinks, and beamed at an astounded Linneá.

“Sis! What happened to your - “

“Later, Linn. Please summon your wife or Kyne again. I need to go see Cain.�

Before Linneá could offer any sort of protest, Gwyn vanished from sight with a flick of her wrist.

“All that waiting and I don’t even get an answers,� sighed Linneá. Fancy rations over a fire? She silently asked Serana. It’s just me again.

Gwyn is awake? How is she doing? What happened?

I don’t know and I don’t know, giggled Linneá. She left for home to see Cain immediately.

Hm. That’s odd. I could have sworn he just arrived here at the palace. There was a brief pause and then Serana spoke again: mum just arrived and said she’d watch the munchkin for a little bit. I’m on my way.