Restoring the Blades

The Dragonborn, Delphine, and Esbern had found Sky Haven Temple as a forgotten ruin in the Karthspire mountain, swarmed by Forsworn inhabiting the cavern entrance as a fortified camp and unaware of the true treasure of the fortress they sat upon. After a day of grueling undertaking, the Dragonborn and his allies were able to reclaim the hidden keep and unlock its secrets. Delphine was pleased to discover the interior and a cache of arms in preserved condition, while Esbern exuded a scholar's delight at the collection of ancient tomes and, more excitingly, Alduin's Wall.

The Dragonborn had other matters on his mind. Once they had settled in and explored their new headquarters, how could they ensure keeping it? The three were battle tested and competent warriors, but they knew it would be futile to hold off the hordes of Reachmen and their Hagraven matrons from reclaiming their former base of operations -- particularly when the Blades and the Dragonborn needed to focus on the greater threat of Alduin. Delphine encouraged the recruitment of new members, and while the Dragonborn did have a few potential candidates already off the top of his head, he knew they would need a sizable detachment of able-bodied fighters to guard the lower entrance and surrounding area, making use of the now vacated Forsworn fortifications outside the temple. There was not enough time to initiate and train enough qualified individuals as new Blades; he had to find a force that was already mobilized and reliable.

The most immediate possibility was Markarth, but even in the unlikely event Jarl Igmund sanctioned the assistance of the already thinned city guard for their use, Delphine and the Dragonborn could not trust that those same men answered to the Jarl alone rather than the Silver-Blood family. Esbern was hopeful of convincing General Tullius to spare some soldiers from the Legion, but that idea was also quickly quashed: Tullius needed his troops to battle the Stormcloaks, and he could not risk the political implications of the Empire's highest-ranking agent in Skyrim reinstalling legitimacy to the former bodyguards of the emperor. The newly reformed Blades also lacked the funds to pay for mercenaries like the Companions. The little gold that was on hand was needed for provisions; they could only support three additional recruits to their order.

The Dragonborn contrived a solution: throughout his travels, he had encountered several groups of Orc hunters roaming the wilds of Skyrim and had rescued hunting parties in the Reach from ambushes by Forsworn. He set out to meet with his friend, Ghorbash the Iron Hand, from the Orc stronghold of Dushnikh Yal. They had traveled together through the Reach before, and the old Orc had taught the Dragonborn, a Nord, much about Orismer culture and the handful of independent strongholds in Skyrim, and he was familiar with the scattered communities of hunters. It was a large favor, but the Dragonborn convinced Ghorbash, given his experience in the Legion, to muster as many of the nomadic orcs as he could find, and bring them to Sky Haven Temple. They would be free to use the Forsworn's defenses as their own "stronghold", so long as they made oaths of secrecy and follow Ghorbash's command to defend the area from the violent Reachmen. Ghorbash would not only act as head of the camp, but also as the official go-between agent for the Blades inside Sky Haven Temple and outsiders wishing to interact with the newly formed Orc stronghold (a convenient front to maintain the secrecy of Sky Haven Temple) be it trade, provisioning, and so forth. The Orc hunters were happy to fight against the Forsworn, as the two groups were rivals and familiar enemies. Esbern and Delphine understood the honor system among Orismer and agreed to the arrangement.

With a base of operations secured and a force to defend it, all that was left to jumpstart the restoration of the Blades were...more Blades! Delphine and Esbern maintained that the Blades and only the Blades would be allowed into Sky Haven Temple, with the only exceptions being the trusted followers of the Dragonborn himself such as Ghorbash, which meant that any nominee needed to have the Dragonborn's trust before the other Blades would consider them. The Nord had three individuals in mind. Normally it would take weeks or even months for them all to be contacted and explained the situation, but the Dragonborn knew a reliable courier.

His first choice was Erandur, a Dunmer and priest of Mara: the Nord befriended and aided him in freeing the people of Dawnstar from Vaermina's phantasmagorical grasp. Since service to the Blades did not conflict with his dedication to the goddess Mara, he accepted the honor.

The Dragonborn's second nomination was his dear friend Illia, whom he met in her former coven's lair at Darklight Tower. What started as a simple investigation on his part turned into a bitter but necessary misadventure of black magic and matricide. Once over, the Dragonborn offered Illia to journey together, and the young Imperial graciously joined him on more than a few escapades and capers. They temporarily parted ways in Winterhold so that Illia could study at the College. The mage did not need to finish the Dragonborn's letter upon receiving it (the sloppy handwriting unmistakably belonged to her Nord companion); all she needed to read were the words "meet me" and "Old Hrodan", the name of the inn located in the Reach. She excused herself from the College of Winterhold and made her way to Old Hrodan within a fortnight. From there, the Dragonborn brought her to Sky Haven Temple, and along the way described the past few months dealing with the dragon crisis and the Blades. She eagerly agreed to his request for her to join him.

The last recruit was nearby Karthspire, and the Dragonborn visited them personally in the Orc stronghold of Mor Khazgur: Borgakh the Steel Heart was the daughter of its chieftain. They had met when the Dragonborn first visited the settlement with Ghorbash. She was envious of his freedom to travel, as she had resigned herself to her fate of being married off to another tribe in the near future. The Dragonborn failed to convince her to accompany him on his current mission to clear out a redoubt full of Forsworn, and he almost failed again to persuade her to join the Blades at Sky Haven Temple despite the yearning in her eyes. He cut Borgakh's reluctance short when he paid her father her dowry, and the Orismer warrior felt the shackles of duty crumble away. She made her goodbyes and followed the Dragonborn to her new life of adventure under his leadership at Sky Haven Temple.

After several months, Sky Haven Temple was a functional citadel; well provisioned from routine visits by the always-discreet Khajiit caravans, as well as the defending Orc hunters under Ghorbash. Their clashes with the rebellious Reachmen also earned the Jarl of Markarth's silent support in supplies and equipment. Forsworn attacks lessened in frequency and strength, the new initiates proved themselves as a cohesive team, and Delphine grew hopeful that her role as acting Grandmaster would become more than formality. The Blades had returned to Tamriel!

The Dragonborn, with the help of his Blades and the guidance of the High Hrothgar, faced off against the Alduin, the World Eater. They battled through lost caverns, hidden ruins, and eventually in Sovngarde itself. The Dragonborn fulfilled the prophecy of Alduin's Wall, and seemingly destroyed his destined foe, leaving the rest of the dragons leaderless. They soon discovered most of the remaining dragons decided to lay low, and Skyrim soon turned its attention back to Ulfric and the civil war. But the Blades remained committed to protecting the land and all of Tamriel from the lingering threat. Expeditions were quickly made to slay the incognito beasts.

Delphine, while appreciative of the Dragonborn's accomplishments, sat alone at the long stone table in the main hall of Sky Haven Temple, with only her thoughts and foul mood to keep council. After learning of Paarthunax's identity and the Dragonborn's refusal to execute the draconic criminal, she and Esbern refused to offer their ally any further support until the duty was done.

But instead of mapping out potential dragon lairs with her, Esbern had traveled with the Dragonborn to High Hrothgar for a meeting with the Greybeards at the young Nord's request. Delphine, of course, refused the invitation: as acting Grandmaster of the Blades she was far too busy for such a journey, and she would never otherwise attend any discourse with those lethargic monks. So, she remained behind, claiming to be preoccupied with training or gathering intelligence, the excuses changed with each person she spoke to.

At the moment, Delphine was content to stew in a mix of feelings from suspicion to loneliness. Her head titled upwards to view the ancient carvings on the ceiling. The glory of Blades past judged her from above.

"Grandmaster," she mocked to herself. She refused to let it show, but she and everyone knew the title was on ceremony. Esbern had her back, but the new recruits tooth their oaths at face value and treated the Dragonborn as the defacto leader of the Blades.

The Breton woman sighed. I cannot blame them, she thought. I barely survived Kynesgrove. My skills are in espionage and fighting off Thalmor, not dragon slaying...

Her thoughts turned to the main dragon slayer himself, and a look of scorn flashed across her face. That man! Why won't he let me help him the way I want to? I thought he valued my experience.

Delphine cursed the Dragonborn and the two other women in the Blades for their youth. She tried to keep up on their initial missions. Forsworn and draugr were easy enough to dispatch, but the older Breton woman found it harder and harder to maintain pace with her new recruits when it came to battling the dragons. It wasn't too long before the Dragonborn took notice. The last mission in Whiterun hold was a close call: he dove from a tower after Delphine had been caught and released mid-flight by a powerful dragon. The Nord managed to grab her in the air and shield her from the impact of crashing into the river below. Borgakh, Illia, and Erandur were able to hold off the beast until Delphine and the Dragonborn emerged from the water to land the finishing blows. He did not say anything about the encounter, but Delphine could read the Dragonborn's concerned eyes well enough. She opted to remain at Sky Haven Temple to continue her role as a commander and collect information on their enemy and monitor Thalmor activity, rather than face the Dragonborn in a conversation about her well-being in future expeditions.

And now here she was -- left out of dragon hunting; staying behind while her friends held counsel on the other side of Skyrim and blaming herself for all of it.

Despite her anger, she missed the young Nord's company. Esbern was always more the scholar than the fighter, a planner rather than an action taker. The Dragonborn had a fire inside him, and his eagerness in honing his skills with a blade was matched only by his extraordinary capacity to improve. She had been teaching him techniques passed down to her from the Blades ever since he had rescued Esbern from Thalmor agents. She found the role of mentor to her liking, especially when it was in the service of restoring her order -- even more so when she had the additional pleasure of pushing the younger man to his limits, breathing hard and skin glistening with perspiration.

Her chest heaved. There I go again, she scolded herself. The more time she spent apart from the Dragonborn, the more she found her thoughts drifting to particulars on which the Breton woman's mind delighted to linger. Back in the days of her service to the Empire, she had taken full advantage of the cosmopolitan nature of Cyrodiil and the men and women who dwelled there. However, since fleeing to Skyrim after the Great War, Delphine's itches went mostly unscratched. Riverwood was a gossipy village, which meant she could not risk drawing attention to herself in the effort to warm her bed. She had no illusions of the inevitable whispers surrounding the well-respected, middle-aged inn keeper handing the keys over to her employee and running off with the young adventurer.

I wouldn't mind a taste of those rumors, she thought to herself. Whether it was training or traveling, Delphine felt twenty years younger in the Dragonborn's presence. The dark yellow locks, the emerald green eyes sparking with life, the scruffy, unkempt beard, the indefatigable stamina: the Nord had awoken desires within the woman that she long considered passed. As Bretons were generally longer lived than other races of men, her body had yet to reach its final bleeding. Delphine reasoned that her rediscovered appetite was a sign of the final stretch of this stage of womanhood. Though she would deny it, the Breton's body punished her with increasing aches and longings alongside her monthly bleedings ever since confirming the Dragonborn's abilities at Kynesgrove. The days after the pain were the most unbearable. She dismissed it as lust, but underneath her thoughts dwelt instinctual needs, needs buried and unfulfilled due to her chosen life of isolation.

She looked down and realized her hand had drifted and landed on her thigh, fingers pointed between her legs. Her thoughts of the Dragonborn normally led to self-pleasure when she was graced with solitude. Such fantasies would no doubt remain between her head and her loins, as she felt outmatched when it came to catching the Nord's attention. Delphine was still physically fit; her body never knew the tolls of childbearing, and it showed with her full breasts and firm rear. Still, how could she compete with Borgakh and Illia? It was bad enough two of the three recruits he brought were women closer to his age, but for one of them to be a good friend (perhaps more, as Delphine suspected) of the Dragonborn already...the Blade Grandmaster lost hope of having even a drunken roll in the hay with the younger man.

She closed her eyes and allowed her hand to travel further as her mind retreated to the Nord's strong arms holding her close to his chest when he pulled the both of them from the river, his wet hair matted to his face, his jaw clenched and square.

Realizing she was sitting out in the open, Delphine quickly rose from her seat and rushed to her quarters, where she intended to spend most of the nights waiting for her companions' return. Her most recent monthly had just finished the other day, and the Breton was ready to relieve her urges while the source of them was absent.

Esbern and the Dragonborn returned sooner than expected, tired from the journey but no doubt still happy to be back with their fellow Blades. Esbern sent the recruits to train with Ghorbash and the Orc hunters outside, while the Dragonborn asked Delphine she meet both he and the older Blade in the great room by Alduin's Wall. They were to discuss Paarthunax and the consequential rescind of further aid to the Dragonborn while the old wyrm lived.

"I am sorry, Delphine," Esbern said, "We are no longer of the same mind."

The Breton jerked her head towards him. Her mouth opened with no immediate response and her brow furrowed. "What are you saying, Esbern? Is this mutiny?"

"No, my friend, not at all," he explained. "Alduin is defeated. The Dragonborn has destroyed his lieutenants and his priests. He has mastered Dragonrend, restored our order, and has secured the fealty of Odahviing. Should Paarthunax return to his evil nature, we will be prepared to deliver justice. I believe we should continue to support the Dragonborn as before."

"How can you be so shortsighted?" Delphine exclaimed. "He may not turn against us in our lifetimes, but hundreds of years from now! What will we do from Sovngarde -- watch in shame as a second Dragon Cult takes over Tamriel!"

She needed to get away from them, she needed fresh air. Of course, all the dragon fanatics met in secret and became thick as thieves, no doubt over ale and some withered monk's favorite tome. Men quickly forget their enemies over the pettiest of shared affinities!

As she turned to the stairs leading to the courtyard, the Dragonborn stepped forward and held her wrist. Instinctively, her free hand went to grasp her sword.

"I have a plan for that," the young man assured with anxiety in his voice. Their eyes met and he glanced down in embarrassment. "Or...or rather, an idea for a plan."

She glanced at Esbern, who raised his eyebrows in bewildered ignorance as a response. Her attention returned to the other.

"Release me, Dragonborn," she said in stern warning. She felt the Nord's clutch slightly tighten. "Whatever schemes you have in mind, as acting Grandmaster I reject them."

The Dragonborn shook his head and stared back with resolve. "That is a part of what we need to speak about."

Her frown curled into a scowl. The impertinence of youth! She tore her arm away from his warm grasp. "I said release me! As long as Paarthunax lives, Dragonborn, you are merely a guest at Sky Haven Temple. Don't presume you have authority over me, not here."

She turned her back and strode up the cold stone stairway. Before exiting through the carved doors, she called out, "Esbern! You and I will talk later!"

The temple doors closed with a grating thud, leaving the two Nord men alone in its echo.

Delphine let the clean breeze fill her nose and lungs. The sun was out, its rays were welcomed by her pale skin. Her second life as an inn keeper never did remove her natural inclination for the outdoors, though she certainly lost the tan she had acquired before fleeing to Skyrim.

She sparred with a training dummy to let off steam. Try as she might, she couldn't picture the faceless wooden head with that of the Dragonborn's. Her anger at the youth only enflamed other passions. The physical exertion ebbed her frustration enough, so she sheathed her blade and moved to the edge of the courtyard, underneath the ruined stone archway, to glower across the Reach. Hopefully, the low sounds of the wind would help her meditate on the situation and prepare for a confrontation with Esbern later today.

She heard the doors to the courtyard open behind her.

Or maybe not, she thought to herself. She refused to acknowledge the arrival, and doubled down on her adamant hazing when the Dragonborn came into her peripheral view. She folded her arms.

The Nord looked her up and down and sighed. Then he spoke. "Did I ever tell you how I wound up in Helgen?"

"The Empire threw you in a wagon with Ulfric Stormcloak thinking you were one of his rebels."

"Yes, but did I tell you how I got there in the first place?"

Delphine leaned against a stone pillar. "I suppose I'm going to hear it now."

The Dragonborn offered a grateful smirk at her blunt acknowledgement. "I was born in Cyrodiil, but my parents were both from Skyrim," he began. "They lived in Winterhold before resettling with an enclave of Nords just south of the border. Most of them were from Winterhold. But it's a quiet village, secluded from the rest of the world. They didn't leave with much. A few septims, my father's rusted axe, and a small collection of books. They taught me to read and write, and they told me stories. So many stories about their homeland, about the mountains and rivers, and of legends that I found out later were just tales my father made up in the moment. They were good parents."

He smiled and looked out over the mountainside for a moment. Delphine took this opportunity to study his face. His softened expression, the slight curve of his lip, his chest heaving upwards as he took in the mountain air -- she couldn't help but approve of the man his parents raised him to be, and she found herself sharing in his smile as he reflected. It had been years since she last thought of her own family.