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“So, I suppose I’m your new husband now.”
Those were his first words to me, in the blood-soaked throne room, bodies still strewn across the floor. Slightly stunned servants silently worked to clean up the mess, staying out of the foreground of this little scene. He was still in his armor, a few cuts and scrapes on his face, hair drenched in sweat. I suppose I did not look much better, having been roused from my bed, hair undone, no makeup, no shoes. But at least I knew better than to say something so stupid as “I suppose I’m your new husband now.”
But I shouldn’t have expected more from a Colovian.
For someone who had been leading a rebel army across Cyrodiil, he had a rather nervous air about him. A shy, boyish smile, his eyes unable to look at me for more than a few seconds. I, meanwhile, stood up straight, my hands behind my back, head tilted upward so I could look down at him despite the few inches he had on me. Each time his eyes dared to meet mine, they flitted away.
What an awful morning.
The whole ruckus began in the early hours, well before the sunrise. We could hear the yelling from our bedroom, battlecries drifting in the night air. Leovic had merely chuckled, saying it was nothing but the Colovians arriving for the slaughter. How charming. While he got up to order his men to drive the intruders out of the city streets, he ordered me to stay in bed. Not suggested. Ordered. I believe his exact words were, “You are to wait for me here so we may celebrate our victory.” But I was not paying him too much mind. After eleven years of marriage, I had learned to tune him out. I would list the Ancient Tharns in my head, a habit I picked up from childhood whenever I was nervous. As long as I knew that information, I would always be safe.
Despite the clash of metal echoing from the market district, I was able to drift back to sleep. This did not last long, or I assume not. I could not quite tell what time it was when I was unceremoniously gagged with a rag, a series of hands holding me down. Of course, I tried to lash out, but from my quick assessment of the situation, I was outnumbered severely by seven rebel soldiers. I was not going to win this fight, and struggling was just going to wear me down. So against my will, I allowed them to pull me from my bed, dragging me through the darkened corridors of the Tower. Oddly enough, not a servant or guard could be found on our trek.
The room they holed up in was dark, save for the moonlight from the far window. The moment we entered, two heavy hands pressed down on my shoulders, forcing me into a chair before they bound my hands around the backside. To their credit, the chair was rather comfortable, but under the circumstances, I would have preferred to stand. Despite the darkness, I held my head high and did not look away from my captors. After all, they thus far did not seem to have any desire to hurt me, and they certainly weren’t trying to get me out of the Tower. At this point, it was merely a waiting game. All the while, I could hear the sounds of battle getting louder. Seemed that Leovic’s assessment was wrong, per usual.
The wait was not long. Just as the morning light started to lighten the room, the door opened. I was surprised by our newest member, but upon reflection, I should have seen it coming. In fact, as he entered the room, the wheels in my head began whirling.
“You can untie her now,” my father said as one of the soldiers shut the door. “She won’t go anywhere.”
The rebels hesitated, but even they were smart enough to not make Abnur Tharn repeat himself. My wrists were unbound, and the first thing I did with my newfound freedom was slap my father across the face. The soldiers nearby flinched, unsure if they should intervene. But my father stood tall -or as tall as he could since I was a few inches taller- running his tongue against the inside of his cheek.
“I suppose you believe I deserved that,” he replied coolly as he walked toward the desk in the middle of the room. “Let me assure you, this was all in your best interest, Clivia.”
“Is that so?” I responded, and even then I knew it was a rather pathetic response, but I was trying to figure my father out.
Opening a drawer of the desk, Father procured a box, and from the box two crystalline glasses and a bottle of wine. That’s when it dawned on me. This must be his second office. I knew he had two, one he met with clients and one he kept to himself, but I had never set foot in the latter. It was less ornate than the other, looking more like a closet than the High Chancellor’s study. But knowing my father, that was done on purpose.
“We thought it best that you did not know,” Father continued, uncorking the bottle. “That the less information you had, the less chance Leovic would have caught wind.”
“You’ve been behind little rebellion the entire time,” I said, crossing my arms as he poured the wine into one of the glasses. He made some sort of motion to the soldiers and they cleared out the room, guarding from the outside.
Once we were alone, He leaned against the front of the desk (the chair I had been sitting in must have been from his desk), taking his time to enjoy the first sip. “Not the entire time, no. I have never been fond of rebellions. Rather sordid affairs, a messy way to fix problems, but after correspondences with Aquilarios, I agreed to assist, but from the shadows, of course. I had to maintain the status quo here, keep Leovic from suspecting.”
From the shadows indeed. Father always was dramatic. “Am I to assume that this little get-together is your way of saying the rebellion has won?”
There was a pause as he took another sip of the wine. A rather potent batch. I could smell it from where I stood. “Still too early to say for sure, but the odds are stacked in our favor, yes. I had ordered the soldiers to guard you while I managed the battle from the sidelines. It became obvious that Aquilarios has the situation under control, and so I came here to begin preparations for the next phase.”
“The checkmate?”
“Of course,” he chuckled.
I sighed. “Why are you telling me all of this now? After all, you didn’t trust me enough before apparently.”
He rolled his eyes. Which is impressive, really. I’ve seen my father sit through inane council meetings and keep a straight face through the entire ordeal. He has no problem telling someone their ideas are stupid without so much as blinking. I like to believe I’m one of the few people who can get my father to fully roll his eyes. “Yes, of course. Certainly, it could not have been because I wanted to keep you safe. I know that Leovic’s manner of obtaining information is much more forceful than my own. If he even had the slightest inclination that you knew something-”
“Don’t even finish that sentence,” I demanded. I said it much too quickly for my own liking. But I did not like thinking about that.
I could see him watching me from over the rim of the glass. “I should have never allowed you to follow through with the proposal.”
We had had this conversation many times over the years, starting with the very day I had agreed to marry Leovic. I had caught my father by surprise, another accomplishment of no small feat. But I knew my father wanted me on the throne. A selfish ambition, really. He did not want me specifically on the throne. Just a Tharn. Any Tharn he thought could handle the job. My elder half-sister, Veraxia, tried many years ago. She was actually married to Leovic’s grandfather (though luckily was not the mother of Moricar. I know Tharns of the past were more than keen to “keep it in the family” but I, for one, would have rather not married my grandnephew). Father told me that Veraxia, while lovely, was “more of a trophy wife,” meaning she had no real power while married to The Black Drake. Father wanted to solidify the Tharns’ connection to the Empire.
“One day, Clivi, I will be dead,” he said to me once when I was about ten years old. I had never thought it strange, having a father as old as Abnur Tharn. I suppose to some it would be. But I never had to watch my father age. I never had that moment of clarity when children realize their parents are not immortal, that moment when you look at your father and realize he is looking more like your grandfather with each passing year. To me, Father always looked the same. Changed his beard a few times, grew his hair out, but he always looked the same to me. Perhaps that is why he felt it necessary to inform me of his mortality.
“I will die one day,” he said to me, “And I do not want my work to go in vain. My greatest desire in life is for the Empire to be able to prosper without me when I am gone. In order for that to happen, I must either get the Emperor to see things my way or get someone who can do a better job.” He wasn’t telling me this because he wanted me to be Empress, of course. I believe I had been pestering him to play with me or something of the like. He wanted to explain why he had been working so hard.
But being the child I was, I said, “Oh, that’s easy. I’ll just become Empress for you.”
Father used to have a rather hearty, deep laugh that he would allow others to hear on occasion. That was one of those times. “Is that so? I shall start working on your coronation speech, then, Your Majesty.”
I don’t believe he had taken me seriously, but I was a rather serious child. I only said what I meant. When I said I would become Empress, I meant it. When Leovic asked for my hand, I took it, not because I thought highly of him, but because he was the Emperor’s son, the next in line, and was my chance. That very day, Father tried to talk me out of it, told me he could try to persuade Moricar that I had only agreed to marry his son out of fear or that I was already betrothed. But I refused. I told him it was what I wanted to do.
Oh, the folly of youth.
“Well, it is too late for that now, isn’t it?” I huffed, looking away from Father.
“Indeed,” he said rather quietly. I heard him place his glass down on the desk, and for a moment, I feared he was going to embrace. Luckily, I heard him uncork the bottle again and pour more wine. He made his way over to me with both glasses in hand. He held one out to me.
“But it is something you will not have to worry about much longer,” he continued as I took the glass. He gently clinked his against mine. “From what I can hear, Leovic will be dead within the hour, and you will be rid of your first husband.”
I couldn’t help but smirk. “That is something I can drink to.”
We took our sips, rather long ones due to the conversation. That’s when he decided to hit me with the other news.
“Aquilarios has agreed to take you as his bride when this is over.”
I swallowed hard. “Has he now? How lucky of me.”
“It was part of our arrangement,” he explained. “Though if you would like to decline…”
“What a foolish suggestion,” I chuckled, taking another sip. Still, I knew he was giving me the chance to take control of the situation. After all, if I was to remarry, it was going to be on my own terms. “After eleven years, you think I would just give up the throne? Honestly, do you really know me, Father?”
The rest of what was said and done are not important to the story. Just know that is how I spent the rest of that morning during the Revolution, drinking wine in my father’s private study, battlecries growing nearer and nearer, more zealous the closer they got.
The entire affair was done by breakfast time.
Father led me to the throne room just as Varen and his men while chucking my late husband out the window. While it was a joyous sight to behold, I feigned disinterest. Father pointed Varen out to me, but I knew which one was he the moment I entered the room. He had a certain air about him, that charisma that draws the easily influenced to him. I nodded once to my father before he departed, making some excuse to leave me to my work.
As I crossed my way into the throne room, one by one the soldiers began to take notice of me, some growing quiet while others jeered at me. I stood silently in the middle of the room, much like a professor waiting for pupils to settle down. I wasn’t about to shout over the rabble. A Redguard nudged Varen’s arm, and when he turned around to see what the commotion was about, the victorious smile fell from his face, replaced with a mixture of shock and what I like to imagine as awe. He ordered his soldiers to clear out, to do whatever it is soldiers do after a battle. I wasn’t really listening, to be honest.
Eventually, it was just he, myself, the Redguard and the Nord I would eventually come to know, and the various servants I alluded to before. It took a few minutes, but Varen eventually gravitated to me, leaving the other two to loiter from a distance. We stood in silence, gauging one another for a while until Varen opened his mouth and spouted those infamous words:
“So, I suppose I’m your new husband now.”
Hardly had I cocked a brow when I heard a little voice behind me. “Pardon me, Your Majesty.” When I glanced behind me, I saw one of my servant girls, a little red-headed Breton whose name at the time I could not recall (though I know have it committed to memory), holding a bundle of clothing in her arms. I remember thinking “What, you want to dress me in front of this intruder?” but the moment the thought crossed my mind, I realized what a brilliant idea it was. I gave the girl a nod before turning my attention back to Varen.
“Is that what you think, Lord Aquilarios?” I asked as the Breton wrapped the corset around my midsection. I stayed as still as a statue as she began to lace me up, never breaking eye contact with my supposed fiancee. “You’ve stormed my Tower, laid waste to my guards and soldiers, and executed my husband. What makes you think I would agree to marry you? If anything, I should be sending you to the block for treason.”
He seemed genuinely surprised, but I think that was mostly because the corset made my breasts more prominent than before. I didn’t mind, but he didn’t have to make it so obvious. Finally, he looked at me rather than them. “Well, when I spoke with Tharn about it…”
“And you think my father has control over me?” I asked with a laugh as the Breton girl began to wrap and tie my dress around me. Black and red, the grand Imperial colors, and it could double as a dress of mourning. Oh, that girl was getting a raise. What a devious little thing!
“No,” Varen replied, and it was honestly the smartest thing he said the entire morning. “But he can advise you.”
“What would you do,” I finally broke contact to step into my shoes, rather ornate golden sandals that gave me another inch. “If I declined your offer? Would you throw me into the sewer as well?” While they hadn’t done that to Leovic yet, I knew it was tradition to do so. Though why you would want a corpse in your sewer system, I will never understand.
He was quiet for a moment, and when I glanced back up while lacing the sandals (they stopped mid-calf), I noticed he was studying my legs. I made a point of lowering the skirt. The absolute nerve. “If you were to decline,” he finally answered. “Then we would amicably part ways. I have no quarrel with you, Lady Tharn.”
“Empress Tharn,” I shot back, though I didn’t raise my voice. “You are forgetting that, by killing my husband, I am now the one on the throne. If I were to decline your proposal, you would have to go through me to become Emperor.”
The room became very quiet. Even the servants stopped their cleaning a moment or two. I heard the shifting of armor, and when I looked across the room, the Redguard had placed a hand on the Nord’s shoulder, whispering something to the furious woman. This brought a smile to my face. How adorable. They actually viewed me as a threat.
To his credit, Varen gave me a small bow. “I have no quarrel with you, Empress Tharn. My soldiers, however, would not take the news very well. They have fought alongside me for many years to get me on the throne.”
By this point, I was now properly dressed, though my hair still hung about my face. It would have been too much to have the girl comb my hair. It knotted too easily, and I doubt I would have been able to hold my poise as she hacked through them. I took a few steps closer to him. “Then impress me, Lord Aquilarios. Why should I marry you?”
He chuckled, he actually chuckled. “Well, I suppose I cannot promise you money and power. You already have that.” He shifted on his feet and gave me a rather awkward smile. “I’m sure I’m a better lover than Leovic was.”
Oh, how cheeky.
“What makes you think I care about that?” I began to circle him. To his credit, he allowed me to.
“After living with Leovic for so long,” he replied, “I’m sure your appetite has either completely diminished or has grown insatiable.”
Absolutely vulgar.
“I’m losing patience, Aquilarios,” I clicked my tongue. In truth, I had made my decision already. I had made it while waiting for the battle to end. He did not need to know that, however.
He chuckled again. “I’m afraid there isn’t much else I can offer you. Security? A more prominent position within court? I know Leovic treated you more as a trophy than an asset.”
Prominent? Trophy? Asset? “If I didn’t think you were an idiot, I would think you were still flirting with me.”
“Lucky for you,” he winked. “I’m just an idiot.”
“Just what the Empire needs,” I sighed, stopping in front of him. “Another idiot. At least idiots are easy to control. Very well, Lord Aquilarios, I accept your offer. Do not make me regret it.”
Idiot indeed. He looked rather foolish with the grin that practically split his face in two. “So when do we start?”
“...pardon?”
“When do we, er, make it official?”
To this day, Varen insists he meant the question innocently, but I know for a fact he didn’t. It was enough to make such suggestive statements to me earlier but to just blatantly ask me, in front of those servants and his little bodyguards, after everything I dealt with being married to Leovic.
Oh, how dare he.
I smacked his arm, though of course it hurt. He was still in his armor. I didn’t let that bother me though. And it seemed to have its effect because he flinched and began to try to defend himself, with his hands and his words.
“That’s not what I meant!” Smack. “I just, we need to start working.” Whack. He started ducking away, mostly because the shoes started coming off. I was hopping on one foot when he said, “I mean, the fact that you took it that way says something, though.”
I believe the words that came out of my mouth when my father walked into the room were, “I’ll skin you alive, you randy little skeever!” But I could be wrong.
And that, ladies and gentlemen, is how I met Varen Aquilarios.