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Morning sunlight slunk into the shady bedroom, creeping between the cracks in the blinds to color the room in streaks of light and shadow. Just enough light to dress by, but not so much that it would wake a sleeper. Or someone who was technically awake, but had no intention of getting out of bed, just yet.
Corinne stretched, rolled over, and burrowed even deeper into the warm bedding. "Mmm. I love a quiet morning when I don't have to be up early."
"You can sleep as long as you like," promised Thongvor. "You've earned it."
"We've both earned it," she replied, snuggling against his side. "The victory is just as much yours as mine, and this is an almost perfect way to celebrate it."
"Almost perfect?" he asked, stroking her cheek with his thumb. "What would make it actually perfect?"
"Hmm," said Corinne, pretending to think. "Coffee and a slice of apple pie?"
"Easily accomplished," said Thongvor. "Of course, you could have just gotten up and made yourself a cup of coffee as soon as you woke up. Unless you're still afraid of the coffee machine."
"I'm not afraid of the coffee machine," she grumbled. "It's just so big, and shiny, and expensive-looking. What if I press the wrong button, and it explodes?"
He laughed.
"Why do you mock me?" she asked, affecting a put-upon expression. "I'm only trying to protect your kitchen from disaster."
"Stay here," he replied, climbing out of bed and bending double to kiss her forehead. "I'll be right back."
Corinne pulled the blankets up to her chin and waited. A few minutes later, Thongvor returned with a cup of coffee in each hand. He set one down on the bedside table and held the second out to her. Pulling herself up to lean against the headboard, she cradled the warm cup in both hands to take a cautious sip. Thongvor sat on the edge of the bed and fetched his own cup.
"Is there an apple pie, too?" she asked cheekily.
"It's in the oven," he deadpanned.
She snorted. "You're incorrigible."
"We won," he said simply. "I couldn't have done it without you, and I think we're both entitled to celebrate."
"What did you have in mind?" she asked, humming thoughtfully.
"Breakfast, for one thing," he said.
"I mostly grab a protein bar on the way to work," admitted Corinne.
Thongvor frowned at her severely. "Well, the first order of business is obviously to get a few square meals into you, since you won't do it yourself."
"You're going to make sure I eat properly?" asked Corinne, amused.
He shrugged. "I'm in the mood to spoil you."
"Let's discuss it over breakfast," she suggested. "You're not too important to enjoy a crostata at the corner Asterope, are you, Lord Governor?"
He ended up taking her to a high-end gourmet bakery, instead, and Corinne spent most of breakfast furtively eyeing a display case full of stylishly modern cake toppers.
"So, where are you headed next?" asked Thongvor, sipping his third or perhaps fourth double espresso of the day. "Back to Windhelm, or maybe to Solitude? I hear they have a primary coming up, and that girl can't possibly think she can keep occupying her husband's seat indefinitely."
"They don't have a strong candidate for the Haafingar elections," she answered. "There was someone I was keeping an eye on, but they couldn't convince her to run."
Thongvor snorted. "It's probably for the best. He doesn't really need the vote, anyway, now that he has a quorum of seven. It would be ostentatious to go for the full nine."
"A quorum?" asked Corinne. "So, you think he's planning to move for secession?"
"Hardly," said Thongvor, waving a hand dismissively. "Have you been reading opposition mailers again? Skyrim has nothing to gain from seceding. We just want our voice to be heard on a national stage. We can't leave the empire's future in the hands of the Motierres and their ilk. Haven't they had the run of things for long enough?"
She winced. "Well, Amaund Motierre is out of the picture, now. There's no recovering from that kind of scandal."
"But if I know those old blood Cyrodilic families," said Thongvor with a sigh, "they have another one just like him lined up to take his job."
"You think you should have the job instead?" asked Corinne, a smile growing at the corner of her mouth.
"I'm more interested in cleaning up the streets, here in Markarth," answered Thongvor. "For the moment."
"And four years from now is a different matter," she suggested.
"Perhaps," he conceded, answering her smile. "But I won't be governor until the inauguration. Speaking of which, you are planning on attending, I hope. Rhiada has your invitation, so you can just pick it up when-- what is it?"
Corinne tried to keep her smile steady, but she knew that he couldn't fail to see her falter.
"You're not coming to the inauguration ball," he said, frowning.
"I have a ticket for the overnight train to Whiterun," she said. "I wish I could stay, I really do."
"Whiterun," said Thongvor flatly. "There's nothing in Whiterun for you, unless Vignar needs you for something, which means that's just a stopping point. I suppose you'll be going to Solitude, after all. Good call. It's a much smoother train ride over the tundra than going through all of the Reach's tunnels. Another thing I intend to fix, once I'm in office. If you stop in at the Silver-Blood offices on your way, you can pick up your last paycheck."
"I won't be making it into the city," said Corinne. "My ticket is for the international airport."
That startled him, and he leaned back in his seat, regarding her anew. "You're going back to Daggerfall?"
Corinne managed a wry smile. "I have to, Thongvor. If I stay away any longer, my residency will expire."
"So," said Thongvor, his lips tightening as he laced his fingers together, "you're leaving Skyrim for good, this time."
"I wish I could stay," she said earnestly.
"All of this," he asked, spreading his hand wide, "just because you don't have the right papers?"
She shrugged. "I had a good run in Skyrim. I wanted to end on a high note."
"This is what you call ending on a high note?" he asked incredulously.
"I wouldn't have managed the Haafingar campaign, anyway," she explained. "Even if we had the perfect candidate, it would have been brutal and drawn out, and it would have taken a lot out of me, win or lose. The Reach was a good victory, a decisive one. Good for my resume, and good for Ulfric's cause. And yours."
"And you couldn't stay just a few more days?" he asked, leaning forward again. "Just for the inauguration."
"I don't have anything to wear," she quipped.
"I'll buy you a gown," he said immediately. "Anything you want."
Corinne reached forward to press her hand over his. "Don't get me wrong, Thongvor. I enjoyed our time together. A lot. And I can feel proud of what we did here. But I always knew that this had an expiration date. We had fun, didn't we? And you got everything that you wanted."
He grabbed her hand and pressed it between both of his. "I wanted so much more than that from you."
Corinne shrugged helplessly.
"The inauguration, Corinne," he insisted. "At least give me that. For everything that we've been through."
She laughed. "You think I don't know when I'm being finessed?"
"I think you deserve a proper celebration and a share of the credit," he replied. "I would have won on a vote, without you, if that."
"I do want to attend," she admitted. "It sounds awfully fun, and I've never done anything like it before. I'd be cutting it pretty close, though, even if I managed to get a flight out the very next day."
"Dengeir didn't hold an inauguration ball?" asked Thongvor, frowning.
Corinne shrugged. "If he did, I wasn't invited."
Thongvor snorted. "That's gratitude for you. Finish your coffee. I still intend to buy you a gown for the ball, and I know the perfect place."
"I didn't know you were such a connoisseur of ladies' eveningwear," she teased, draining the last of her mocha latte.
"I thought I'd have more use for it, in my life," he replied cryptically.
Corinne shot one last longing look at the elaborate cake displays before leaving the bakery behind, following Thongvor into a boutique that was exactly as sleek and expensive as she'd imagined. If she'd learned nothing else about the man, over the past few months, she knew he had expensive taste.
There was no bell above the door, but that was no obstacle to the quietly attentive saleslady who appeared, seemingly out of nowhere, to offer immediate assistance. Thongvor communicated with her with curt words, his gaze moving over the shop's elegant interior, never looking in her direction. Corinne hung back and watched their conversation like she was breaking a particularly difficult cipher. Once she was shepherded into a changing room the size of a generous studio flat, followed by a clothes rack on wheels, she at least knew what to do next.
She slipped on a sequined gown and twisted around her own spine, fingers scrabbling after the zipper. "Thongvor, why can't I find a price tag on any of these dresses?"
He chuckled warmly.
"Right," she said. "Only peasants check the price before they buy."
"The gown is a gift," he said. "Don't worry about the price tag."
"A gift, huh?" she said, tugging the zipped garment straight. "So, you won't be offended if I return it, the day after the ball?"
"Naturally, gifts are yours to do with as you see fit," he answered. "I do hope you'll keep it, though. Who knows? You might have use for it."
She huffed a laugh. "If my career goes the way I hope, yeah, maybe."
There was a short pause. "Can I see it?"
Corinne gathered the excess material of the gown's sweeping skirts and stepped out of the changing room. She found Thongvor reposing on a white leather couch with a champagne flute in his hand. He couldn't have looked more like an indolent aristocrat if he'd staged the scene to that effect. She ducked her head to hide her smile.
"What do you think?" she asked, gesturing at the gown. "It's a bit much, isn't it? I'd hate to be overdressed when I'm not even the guest of honor."
He smiled. "It looks like it was made to be worn by you," he said. "Try on the red one."
She raised an eyebrow. "Really? I was going to nix that one based on color alone. I can hardly wear the opposition's colors to such an official occasion."
"Good point," he said, grimacing.
"You just wanted to see me in red," she accused, jabbing her pointer finger at him.
"Can you blame me?" he asked, shrugging and sipping his champagne. "I thought red would look good on you."
"I'll try the turquoise one, next," she said, grabbing handfuls of skirt and shuffling back behind the curtain.
"You could always get them all," remarked Thongvor, pitching his voice to be heard through the partition.
Corinne snorted. "Thongvor, there are ten gowns on this rack. I only barely have use for one. When am I ever going to wear something this formal again?"
"I can think of a few occasions," he answered cryptically.
An hour later, she left the boutique with a slip of paper promising the delivery of one outrageously expensive lavender satin gown, not to mention, at least a glass and a half of champagne roiling in her stomach. It was all she could do to talk Thongvor out of extending the shopping trip to buying her matching shoes and accessories. On their way out, her gaze caught on the front window display, which boasted a lavish mermaid-cut wedding gown, glimmering in pearl-white silk.
"Are you satisfied with the results of our excursion?" she asked playfully as she took his offered arm. "Have I been sufficiently spoiled?"
"I'm sure that I could do worse," he replied gravely, "given the opportunity."
"Fortunately for my hard-earned self-reliance," said Corinne, "that opportunity will soon be at an end. I'd better enjoy it while it lasts."
He glanced at her sidelong but said nothing.
"Seriously, Thongvor," she said, tugging on his arm. "I've been taking care of myself for years. I've done a pretty good job of it, don't you think?"
"I think," he said, "that we need to stop at that flower shop, over there."
"Do I need flowers for my hair?" asked Corinne, amused.
"No," replied Thongvor patiently, "but I need a flower for my buttonhole."
She ducked her head and grinned.
"It's a very formal occasion, Corinne," he said sternly.
"Yes, yes," she agreed, waving her hand. "Of course, you need to look your best."
"If you want an arrangement to go with your gown--" he began.
"I didn't say that!" she cut in immediately. "No, I'm more than satisfied with the gifts that I've already received."
He looked only slightly mollified. "I'm glad you like them."
She picked out a lilac-colored rose wrapped in dark green leaves for him, while Thongvor watched her with an unnameable expression. When she glanced out of the shop's window, the sky was a deepening blue and the sun was low. Their day's excursion would soon be over.
"I should get back to my hotel," said Corinne reluctantly. "I need to get started on my packing."
"Tonight?" asked Thongvor, raising an eyebrow.
"No point in putting it off," she said, infusing the words with her best mock-cheer. "Besides, I'm looking forward to seeing my mother and Danilia again. Daggerfall weather is nice, this time of year."
"Is that what's keeping you anchored in High Rock?" he asked, frowning. "The weather?"
"You know what's keeping me," insisted Corinne, letting the flower shop's door close behind them with a cheerful jangle.
"Papers," he said flatly. "Papers can be arranged."
"That's what I'm doing," she explained with exaggerated patience. "When my residency becomes eligible to apply for full citizenship--"
"You know, I always wondered about that," he interjected. "From the very first day that we met. What it feels like, to work on a campaign for an election you can't cast a vote in. Is that what drew you to politics as a profession?"
"You mean, did I choose statecraft because I was born stateless?" said Corinne with a snort. "Is it so hard to believe that I chose it because I'm good at it?"
"No," said Thongvor.
She sighed, turning to look at the opulent floral arrangements that hid behind her faint reflection in the sparkling vitrine. "Daggerfall is not a bad place to live, even for non-citizens. And there are a lot of job opportunities for me, if not there, then in Wayrest. I'll be fine, so you really don't need to worry about me."
"I wish you would let me help you," he replied, his hand warm on her shoulder as his words were in her ear.
Corinne closed her eyes to the glare of the late afternoon sun and leaned back against him. "How?"
His hand slipped down from her shoulder to her waist, and his breath was warm against her cheek when he whispered his answer in her ear.
"What?" she cried out, recoiling so quickly that she almost smacked into the florist's display of pale yellow orchids. "You're kidding, right?"
"Don't react so impulsively," said Thongvor, reaching for her hand. "Take some time to think about it."
"I don't have time, Thongvor," said Corinne sharply. "We just finished establishing that, remember?"
He sighed. "At least, don't decide on an empty stomach. Look, it's almost dinnertime. I have a standing reservation at Lemond."
"Of course you do," said Corinne with a snort.
Thongvor frowned, but made no remark to counter.
Corinne glanced at her watch. "Well, I do need to eat, sooner or later, I suppose."
"We skipped lunch," he reminded her.
"Only because we slept in so late," she replied. "Is it far?"
"Lemond's?" said Thongvor. "Not very far. I could have a car here in five minutes, or we could walk, if you'd rather. It's only a fifteen-minute walk, if that."
"Seems a waste to wait for a taxi when it's that close," said Corinne. "Let's walk."
He offered her his arm again, and she took it after a moment's hesitation. The slanting rays of the afternoon sun touched the city's stonework, gilding it generously. The warm sunlight softened the edges of the upscale shopping district's boutiques and luxury cafes, glinting gently on the glass display windows. Its brightness belied the late hour, but Corinne had gotten used to that quirk of the northern latitude.
They walked in silence, at first, but Corinne didn't have it in her to let the awkwardness stand without smoothing it over.
"I did want to thank you," she said. "Not just for dinner, or for the gown, but for--" she gestured broadly at the two of them-- "everything."
"It was no hardship," he replied. "I've not often had someone to whom I could unreservedly offer my aid, and it's not as though I lack the means. You've seen how I live."
She snorted.
"Exactly," said Thongvor stoutly. "I have a big, empty apartment in the upper city, and no one to share it with. No one to invite to dinner except my brother or Reburrus." He grimaced. "Neither of them appealing options, you'll agree."
"Maybe you just need to get out more," she suggested.
Thongvor sighed. "The only people I meet, these days, are lobbyists and campaign donors. And I doubt that's likely to improve, after the inauguration."
"That's how you met me," she pointed out.
"That's true," he agreed, smiling, "but, Corinne, even you have to admit that you're quite exceptional."
Corinne put her hands on her hips, mock-sternly. "If you're trying to butter me up, it's going to take more than empty flattery to get a yes out of me."
"Not at all," he replied. "I said I would give you time to think, and I meant it. I would hope that if you were to accept my offer, you would do it on merit."
"I won't lie," said Corinne, rubbing the back of her neck, "it's very tempting."
He glanced at her sidelong and smiled again.
"It's my family that I'm worried about, honestly," she went on. "Not to mention, I can't imagine that citizenship is as simple as just getting married. Won't there be paperwork to fill? And restrictions? Would we fall under suspicion because of moving so quickly?"
Thongvor leaned in and wrapped his arm around her shoulders, kissing her temple. "What you need to remember," he said, "is that any problem you might have with the authorities will be mitigated by the fact that, as of last week, I am the authorities."
Corinne glanced up at him. "Do you truly mean to abuse your power so egregiously?"
"For you?" he said. "Absolutely."