Chapter Text
As the day lengthened, the clouds dispersed, and the shadows shortened as the sun ambled across the clear, blue sky.
It shone brightly but created little warmth. I walked swiftly to keep the chill of the mountain trails at bay, leaving the established road to skirt through the woods whenever I neared structures, or even ruins of structures.
I had offered to walk to Whiterun alone, but I was not an idiot; Skyrim was littered with old forts that had become havens for those who did not wish to live under any rule but their own. Besides the fact that I was hopelessly defenceless, my pack was full of Alvor's armour and jewellery, and I didn't want it to be stolen.
So the walk was silent, and lonely; the occasional rabbit and fox my only companions, darting away at the sight of me. I didn't mind; I had lots to think about.
I was painfully uncertain over when I might see Hadvar again. For the start of my journey, the feel of his lips and hands were all I could think about. I would remind myself sternly, over and over, that the real, live, fire-breathing dragon in Helgen only two days ago should be at the forefront.
Hin sil fen nahkip bahloki.
I shuddered. There was something poetic about the dragon's words and the translation thrummed within me like an echo as soon as I recalled them;Your soul will feed my hunger. They were words that could move mountains and turn rivers that had flowed for a thousand years into steam in the space of a single breath. Words that, like Ulfric Stormcloak's thu'um, had power.
The thu'um.How was I meant to learn anything about those words Stormcloak had used now, without the resources I had been relying upon in Cyrodiil? Perhaps once I had access to my money, I could buy a horse and try for my grandparents again.
Then Cyrodiil is still your goal?
Yes, I answered immediately. Riverwood had been peaceful andverydiverting, but a show of kindness and a kiss had not cancelled out my resolve. My decision was not rash and thoughtless, borne entirely of remorse, after all.
It will just take as long as it takes to learn and use his words against him.
Idly hummingAge of Aggression,I crested the mountain path, and smiled. The song wasn't as bad asRagnar the Red, but I had never much liked it until now. I doubted I would ever think of it in the same way again.
I stared down at the valley below. A vast, yellow-grassed tundra was laid out before me, bordered by tall, jagged mountains, snow-capped and blued with haze in the distance. Whiterun rose like a beacon in the centre of the plain, with Dragonsreach, home of the Jarl, towering above the settlement of steeply-angled rooftops. The grey-stone of the wall curled around the city like a snaking river, protecting it from the outside world in the distance. I was nearly there.
Down with Ulfric the killer of kings. On the day of your death we'll drink and we'll sing,I thought, as I hummed and began my descent.
So. We're singing again.
"Yes," I replied resolutely to myself. I hadn't even thought aboutnotsinging with Hadvar, and it had not reduced me to a blubbering mess when I had done it. On the contrary; it had been a relief. I would not stop myself from making music again.
A crisp, determined breeze pushed against me, making my descent the slowest part of my journey, but I didn't mind. I had not been to Whiterun before, and enjoyed drinking in the sight of the place my father had told me about.
I smelled Honningbrew Meadery before I passed it; honey, apple, and something rubbery; a mix of both pleasant and not so pleasant aromas. There were working farms beside it. Only one had a mill, and the rest were fenced-in patches of dirt where fur-clad workers toiled with hoes and rakes.
None of the workers paid me any mind, and I reached the stables before anyone spoke to me.
"When they turn you back, lass, remember that I'm here for you."
I turned, frowning, finally noticing a man atop a carriage. It was a public coach; empty, and the driver looked grizzled and bored.
I shook my head. "Thank you, but I have business in Whiterun. Why would they turn me back?"
The coach driver shrugged. "Nobody's being let in. Some folk saying it's to keep the Stormcloaks out," he glanced to the horizon, searching. "Others saying it's because of the dragon that attacked Helgen a two-day ago," he arched an eyebrow. His gaze settled back on me, gauging my reaction.
I bit my bottom lip and glanced toward the main gates. I would have to talk my way through the gates, as well as address the Jarl. The coach driver made it sound as though what had befallen Helgen was not widely believed.
"I must...try," I muttered to him, adding a hasty farewell as I set off again.
The lesser gateway arched over the road into the city, but access was clear. It was manned by a pair of yellow-clad Whiterun soldiers, both holding horse-sigil shields. They were in conversation about a bounty the Jarl had recently issued.
I avoided eye-contact and feigned nonchalance. What if the Empire, or the Stormcloaks for that matter, put abountyon me?
Get over yourself,I commanded. I may have been a prisoner of both armies for a time, but I washardlytheir priority. If the bounty the guards talked about was mine, they would have noticed my approach.
I dug into the neck of my dress and withdrew the Passero seal; it was time to be seen, and this might be my fastest way into the city, if father's familiarity with the Hold could lend me merit. The large ring settled front-and-centre on my chest and I brushed my fingers through my tangled hair. I winced as the windswept snarls tugged, and quickly plaited the mass of dark brown, despite the knots.
The road angled sideways then under another tall, arched gateway, and the main gate swam into view. It was closed and flanked by three helmeted Whiterun guards.
I took a steadying breath, and smiled warmly.Show time.
"Good afternoon!" I called merrily, stopping in front of the guard with the ring of keys on his belt. He was a huge man, towering at least three heads above me, wearing a pair of battle axes at his hip and a Whiterun shield strapped to his back.
Through the slit in the helmetlevel withhis mouth, the guard sighed. "Before you waste yourbreathtrying to buy your way in, Whiterun is closed to outsiders," he spoke in the heavily-accented tones of a native central Nord. "I'm sorry, you'll have to go back where you came from, girly."
I maintained my smile, pleased that the coachman had warned me. "So I have heard it said, but I must seek an audience with the Jarl nonetheless," I insisted. "I am certain if you mention my name to him, or his housecarls, Jarl Balgruuf will admit me."
We had caught the attention of the other two guards; their heads swivelled to regard me.
I kept my eyes on the tower before me, wishing I could see his expression; his eyes, anything.
"And that name would be?" he asked in a flat tone.
"Celeste Passero, daughter of the late Samuel Passero of Haafingar, Thane of the late High King Torygg," I announced.
The guard huffed; the air hit the metal in front of his face with a rasp. "I don't care if you're the daughter of the late High King himself; we have orders to keep outsiders like you out of the city. The coach is by the stables," he lifted a gloved hand and pointed. "If you're a noble lass, you best pay your way home. Skyrim isn't safe for those who can't defend themselves."
A flash of anger rippled under my skin, despite his presumption being true. Taking a deep, calming breath, I squared my shoulders. "I understand. Perhaps you will let me appeal to your better nature?" I asked pleasantly. "I am unarmed," I added needlessly.
"Maybe we should let her in, Trilar," one of the other two called from across the way. "Better than having her disappearance on your conscience, eh?"
The one before me tilted his head. "Scouts and messengers don't carry blades. And that's anawfullyfull backpack, for a Thane's daughter," his tone grew more calculating.
"Ah, good," my heart hammered, but I maintained my poise; if this was a performance, he was just a heckler. "You have noticed my package; leather work from Riverwood, to barter with on behalf of the smithy there, Alvor. I approach Whiterun not for my own gain, but for the people of Riverwood."
The voice behind the helmet sounded confused. "What would you know of Riverwood?"
"More than you might expect," I countered respectfully. "The village kindly offered me shelter in the wake of the attack on Helgen, where I was-"
"Youwere at Helgen?!"
"On my parent's souls, I swear it," I continued swiftly, making the most of his attention. The story of Helgen wove through my mind like a ballad, instead of a horrible, fiery memory. "And it was within Helgen that I bore witness to the dragon that assaulted the township, hurling fire from the skies. Asoldiersaved my life," I added with a pause. "But when we escaped, we saw the great black wyrm again, soaring into the high mountains above Riverwood. I must be allowed to stand before the Jarl, on behalf of those who gave me sanctuary."
The guard turned to look at the other two. I wondered what message was passing between those full-faced helms, for none of them talked. When he faced me again, he gave a long, weary exhale.
"You spin a pretty tale, girly," his hand fell to the ring on his belt. "If you were at Helgen when it fell, you'd better go straight up to Dragonsreach. Farengar will figure you out."
I masked my grin of victory with a bow of gratitude; "Thank you. I will."
The gates of Whiterun were unlocked, and I righted the straps of my pack and stepped through. As soon as I was inside, the gates were relocked behind me, and couldn't help but startle as the lock clanged and clicked.
It's all right; you're in, I thought with relief.
The guard had told me to go straight to Dragonsreach, but I wanted to lighten my load first. It would also give me an opportunity to speak to a shopkeeper, who might be able to arrange a line of credit for me and, with the right authorisation, allow me access to my accounts.
I glanced around Whiterun with interest, understanding at once why father hadn't minded traveling here. It was averypretty place. The road before me was cobbled, but worn smooth, leading over a small bridge spanning a brick-lined, crystal-clear stream of water. The road forked after the bridge. The left ascended to what seemed to be an expensive residential sector; large houses with pretty gardens, though none were half the size of Proudspire Manor. The wider main street that continued forward was lined with shops; a smithy to the right, an inn to the left, and beyond, a well in a courtyard, and an open-air marketplace.Charming.
The bustle of people going about their business echoed off the high walls, and I stepped out into the throng. Just below the bridge, I noticed a woman wearing a blacksmith's apron, speaking to an animated man wearing Legion armour. With the weight of Alvor's wares heavy on my mind and shoulders, I veered toward them. Spotting an expertly-made iron sign hanging from the shop that named itWarmaidens, I understood that this was theothersmithy Sigrid had spoken of. What was her name again - Aveny? Aveno? Neither sounded right.
She was an Imperial - tall, slim, bronzed and beautiful, despite the ash caked on her cheeks and through her hair. How had she become a blacksmith in a central Skyrim hold? Her confident poise spoke of something higher.
"It doesn't matter how much gold is on offer, Idolaf, I can't fill an order that size," the woman said matter-of-factly as I came within hearing range. "Why don't you ask up at the Skyforge-?" she continued.
The man in Imperial leathers – Idolaf – growled. "I'd sooner kneel before Ulfric Stormcloak," he crossed his arms stubbornly. "Our Empire needs every one of us right now, Adrianne – you can'tallpretend that we're not at war – youmustpick a side. Grey-Mane has chosen his."
"You know as well as I that Jarl Balgruuf wishes to remain neutral," the woman shook her head. "And picking a side has little to do with my answer. The war could be on our doorstep and I would be telling you the same," she insisted. "Can't draw blood from a stone."
Perhaps it isn't wise to step into the middle of this. I glanced away, inspecting the steel plate items hung up outside the shop. They were generic as well – perhaps to deter thieves, or perhaps there were simply no custom orders being filled these days. I lowered my pack and rolled my shoulders as I glanced over a display rack, which contained only two swords and six empty spaces.
Adrianne and Idolaf exchanged words for a little longer, and eventually the smith conceded that she would see what she could do.
Alvor could fill the rest of that contract,my mind prodded.
Keep out of it,I countered sternly.You have your task. Complete it before you go interfering in everyone else's business.
I warred with myself as the smith's footsteps drew closer.ShouldI mention Alvor? It was clear she was on the side of the Legion, whether their Jarl wanted to remain neutral or not. If this Adrianne was willing to work with Alvor's shop, they could meet the contractandbring much-needed funds to Hadvar's family.
Before I could angst any further over a decision, Adrianne stepped under the awning.
"Sorry to keep you waiting," she addressed me in a voice oozing confidence. "I'm Adrianne Avenicci, the smith here at Warmaidens. Looking for some armour? That one might need adjusting to fit your frame."
I smiled graciously at the woman. "Actually, I am selling, if you are interested. I carry leather and silverwork from a smith south of here in Riverwood, by the name of Alvor."
"Alvor," Adrianne's manner shifted slightly as she looked me up and down. "I know of him. Looking to expand his client base, is he?"
"Perhaps," I murmured carefully and shrugged, kneeling to unstrap the pack. "The war has caused so many unexpected expenses for hard-working families both inside and outside of the cities," I withdrew the necklaces; lay them carefully on Adrianne's workbench, before returning to the pack to extract a set of leather bracers and a few helmets.
"That is has," she muttered distractedly. I glanced up; her eyes were flitting over Alvor's work.
Good."There's more of course, back in Riverwood," I stood, resting my hands on my hips as I regarded the samples. "Iron and steel, weapons and shields. But I could only carry so much. Do you think you could move this along?"
Adrianne said nothing, picking up a pair of bracers. She traced the stitching and rivets with a long fingertip, then replaced it with a sigh. "Not the jewellery – you'll have better luck passing those on to Belethor, down by the markets," she advised. "But we can deal on the leather. I might actually have an immediate buyer for those."
"So I heard," my lips curled. Adrianne turned swiftly to see what I meant, and I flashed her a wry half smile. "Sorry. I couldn't help but overhear your conversation with the Legion officer."
Adrianne rolled her eyes and returned to vetting Alvor's work. "Well. Wewerecarrying on in the middle of the street. Sorry about that."
My smiled persisted. Here it was; a genuine opportunity to suggest they work together. "We might be able to help each other, actually."
Adrianne hesitated; her sharp eyes met mine. "This Alvor of yours might be willing to help me meet the Legion's contract?" she guessed. When I nodded, she added; "For what price?"
I couldn't say.WasI doing right, speaking for him in this way? "I shall leave that between the two of you, if you don't mind," I evaded. "I'm just the messenger."
Adrianne 'humphed' and switched back to the matter at hand. "I'll take it off your hands for 400 gold. Don't have much cashflow at present."
I frowned. "I'm under instructions to settle for no less than 600 for the leather. Oh well!" I pipped brightly. Sigrid had warned me of this; that the shop keepers would try to shortchange me, and I had to be prepared to leave at once if they did. She wanted 500 gold, and I was going to do my best to better their expected price. "Perhaps it was not meant to be," I reached out and began packing Alvor's wares away.
Adrianne made a disgruntled sound, and put a hand on my arm. "All right, all right. Perhaps I didn't look closely enough. Set them out again."
The system was an elaborate game, wasn't it? Playing my part, I obliged and stepped back.
"Would you take 450?" she frowned at an arm bracer seam, clearly trying to make me doubt its quality.
I tilted my head. "I don't think so," I shrugged. "But it's no bother. If the Legion are looking for leatherworkers, it won't be long until they find Alvor. His nephew is in the Legion, so he's sure to mention him when he gets back to Solitude."
She sighed this time. "You've Imperial in your blood, don't you girl?"
I raised my eyebrows knowingly and said nothing.
Adrianne rolled her eyes. "Play it your way. 550 for the lot – but," she stared me down, "I need you to use those speech-craft skills to convince Alvor to fill thirty-percent of the Empire's contract, okay?"
I grinned and offered her my hand. "I'm returning to Riverwood once I deliver a message to Dragonsreach. There shouldn't be any difficulties."
"Dragonsreach?" Adrianne shook my hand, her tone interested. "You couldn't domea favour, if you're bound there?"
I agreed; I liked this tall, canny woman who might be key to changing Hadvar's family's fortunes. She asked me to bring a sword to her father, who was a steward up at Dragonsreach, who would in turn present it to the Jarl as a gift. After I emptied my pack of Alvor's work and replaced the necklaces to sell later, Adrianne withdrew a box from under the workbench. With a few twists and turns of the complicated lock on its front, she withdrew several pouches of gold, relocked it, passed them to me, and then told me to wait while she brought out the sword.
She returned almost at once; it must have been just inside the door. She was quiet as she handed it over. It was a slender piece, made of dark steel and wound with sturdy leather around its hilt. The pommel had been shaped into a horse's head – the familiar sigil of Whiterun.
I made a show of looking down the blade; holding it up with both hands as though I knew what I was doing. I knew nothing of iron and steel, but it was a nice sword and the detail on the pommel spoke of dedication to her Hold, and loyalty to her Jarl.
"Strong lines for a strong arm," I waxed poetically, handing the sword back to Adrianne.
"Someday," she turned away, wrapping the sword in hide, "my steel might be as sought after as Eorlund Gray-Mane's. If the Jarl accepts this sword, that day may come sooner," she finished, subdued. "My father will find the right time to give it to him."
I praised the workmanship of the sword some more, intrigued. Over the course of two days, I had managed to meet two blacksmiths who wished not merely to shape steel and move it along. Alvor and Adrianne's styles would work well together, and given their interest in the artistic side of smithing, they might even become friends.
But I was getting ahead of myself. Relieved that I had achieved one of my two goals, I took the wrapped sword up in both arms and asked for directions to Dragonsreach. Adrianne suggested I take the faster route through the Cloud district – the residential sector I had noticed before – so I wouldn't be waylaid in the marketplace. Thanking her, I took my leave and promised we would talk again soon.
The Cloud district reminded me a little of home, in that the houses were neat and expensive. That was where the similarities ended; these were all thick wooden pillars and flaxen roof tiles, with criss-crossing beams carved in a variety of designs to decorate; from elegant knotwork to hideous faces. The street was clean and the gardens were in good repair; encircled by low, dry stone walls covered in plush mosses.
In the midst of the dwellings was the temple; devoted to the worship of Kynareth from the looks of the medallions hanging over the gateway. A pair of priestesses walked from the building and stepped onto the road ahead of me; their brown robes and yellow scarves fluttering in the breeze flowing between the tall buildings like a river through a valley.
The road curved again and at the end of it stood a magnificent tree; its bare boughs angled up, glowing white in the midday sun. It was clearly dead, though still quite a sight. I didn't wonder that the Jarl had not organised to have it removed.
The priestesses in front of me stopped; stared up at its empty branches. As I passed by, one of them sighed and murmured something about a dream she'd had, where theGildergreenhad been alive and flowering.
"But you were once man! Aye! And as man, you said, 'Let me show you the power of Talos Stormcrown, born of the North, where my breath is long winter. I breathe now, in royalty, and reshape this land which is mine!'"
My focus was swiftly drawn to the hoarse cry of a man who seemed to be ranting aboutTalos. I caught sight of him standing on a small knoll beyond the tree, his arms raised as he preached to nobody.
"I do this for you, Red Legions, for I love you."
I glanced away just as hurriedly with a flush. Why hadn't the Jarl at least movedhimalong? If the Thalmor knew about this, they would see him executed.
Beyond the raving man was what looked like an upturned ship, and I did a double take. Glancing over the curve of the large, long building, I recognised it as the home of the Companions of Whiterun. It had been said that, long ago, before Whiterun had been established, the Companions had moved the ship that had carried them from Atmora to this place and turned it into their shelter. It was strange to see it with my own eyes; I had thought the story too romanticised to be completely true.
Dragging my eyes away from the overturned ship - well, the Companions' home - I ascended the stairs before Dragonsreach and tried to dash all I had seen and heard from my mind. I needed to focus.
Dragonsreach loomed above me like a mountain. It was built in a similar fashion to all of the other buildings of the city – or perhaps all of the other buildings had been constructed in sympathy to this one. At the top of the stairs was a tall, open concourse forming a bridge over a deep moat. There were carved wooden pillars either side, arching up like ribs of some great creature arranged in front of the main doors. The carvings were so weathered that the faces depicted at the joins were barely discernible as faces at all. Beside the walkway, Dragonsreach was encircled by pillars sharpened at their tips. They looked like recent additions; the exposed wood was still fresh. They were certainly serious about security here, weren't they? Was this extra fence on account of the Stormcloak rebellion?
My boots clopped against the boards and the sound echoed off the stone wall beyond. I nodded greetings to the Whiterun guards I passed. Some nodded in response; others muttered brief hellos, and some said nothing at all; their helmets following me as I moved on.
I was fairly confident they wouldn't stop me. The Jarl would be in session at this time of day, and the door to a Jarl's house was always open. Besides, carrying Adrianne's sword made me look more the messenger, and they were allowedeverywhere.
The front doors to Dragonsreach were tall and carved, open just a crack. I pushed my shoulder into the gap to widen it, and one of the nearby Whiterun guards jangled to my side to help. Thanking him with a nervous smile, I stepped into the darkened interior and my footsteps were muffled by a fine, woollen rug travelling the length of the long, dark hall.
I looked up, and kept looking, until I felt as though I would fall over backwards if I kept trying to see where the ceiling stopped. Dragonsreach wasimmenselytall, and the vaulted ceiling disappeared into shadow before I could make out its top.
"I know those eyes."
Closing my mouth with a snap - I had been gaping - I turned. There was a bored-looking Nord woman in her thirties lounging beside the entrance, wearing generic steel armour over furs tufting out around its edges. Her black hair was swept into a braid on one side of her face, feathering around her cheek on the other.
"Are you lost, little one?" the corner of her mouth tilted. Her accent was not as pronounced as a midlander; the lilt only there in a trace. She seemed bored, from the dullness I found in her emerald eyes.A housecarl, I deduced. Mercenaries wouldn't hang about the Jarl's home.
I shook my head resolutely. "I'm bringing this to Adrianne Avenicci's father," I flushed, realising I hadn't asked for his name. "And I have a message from the people of Riverwood, for the Jarl."
"Ah, a busy bee," she smirked, waving further into the great hall. "Proventus is your man – he's with the Jarl, you can't miss him – the anxious fellow wearing the dark blue robes. And," she turned back; her eyes flickering over me in an oddly familiar manner. "Don't let Irileth scare you off," she tilted her head in amusem*nt. "She's a mite jumpy today. The Guard keep bringing in reports of dragon sightings from the mountains."
My heart leapt into my mouth. Was I too late? Had the dragon already razed Riverwood?
Faltering, I glanced toward the Jarl's throne, where he took court. There were figures at the end - I could tell from this distance only by the long shadows they cast. The hearth before the throne reflected a myriad of warm oranges and yellows about the hall between us.
I turned back to the forthcoming woman. "Do you know anything of the dragon reports?" I asked carefully.
She winced a little. "Nothing of Riverwood, if that's what concerns you," she drawled. "Beyond the watchtower, all accounts of thisdragonseem to focus on Helgen."
My relief shuddered out of me as a sigh and I nodded my thanks. If Riverwood had been attacked, therewouldhave been a report of it by now. But if the dragonhadbeen sighted, perhaps it had spoken to the guards - perhaps they were jumpy because it had told them what it was going to do.
"Did...the dragon...say anything?" I asked carefully.
"Sayanything?" the woman cast me a wry look.
"I mean," I fumbled for recovery, lifting my chin, "in the reports. Did the Guard say anything about what the dragon wanted?"
The look the woman gave me - caught between confusion and amusem*nt - made me flush at the clumsiness of my words.
"No. Those reporting mentioned nothing of conversations with dragons," the dryness in her tone made my flush double. "You'd better go deliver your message, little one."
"Thank you," I muttered, turning away as I clutched Adrianne's sword to my chest.
You'd better do better than that with the Jarl.
I felt the woman's eyes following me as I walked away. My heart thudded, keeping time with my steps as I hastened toward the Jarl's throne.
The heat from the hearth pushed against me like a hand as I approached the cluster of people at the end of the hall. Tables lined the walk, though were entirely empty of both people and food; lunch must have finished already. I hesitated as the delicious smell of roasted potatoes and chicken wafted toward me; glancing to my left, I spied a bustling kitchen. I thought longingly of the pie Sigrid had given me and wished that I'd thought to eat before I'd come up to Dragonsreach; food might have steadied me. If I was honest, the group at the far end of the hall seemed so engrossed in their discussion that they probably wouldn't care if I sat at one of the long, empty tables and ate it now.
Stop stalling,I commanded.
I pushed on. There were four figures at the end of the hall. Jarl Balgruuf was easy to recognise; tall and strong and thoughtful, reclining in his throne as his piercing blue eyes focused on the man before him; a tall Imperial with little hair on his head, wearing dark blue robes and talking earnestly. This must have been Adrianne's father, I reasoned. Beside the Jarl stood a man cloaked in robes the colour of ash. His hood was raised, casting most of his face in shadow so only the tip of his nose and the grim curl of his mouth caught the hearth light – the court mage, I assumed. My eyes drifted to the fourth of the party, and I startled back. The Dunmer woman in leather armour had her red eyes set on me in a glare, and her hand was resting menacingly on the hilt of her sword. She was like a coiled snake, about to strike.
Irileth, the woman by the doorway had called her. This must have been Irileth. Swallowing my fear, I planted a calm, eager expression on my face and met her gaze. Mercifully, my bard's training took control of my outward appearance.
While the three men ignored my approach, the Dunmer stepped toward me, her judging eyes lingering over my parcel. "You approach Jarl Balgruuf with arms?" she questioned sharply.
I held the parcel down and out, praying that by doing so she would catch a glimpse of my father's ring. "This is for Lord Avenicci," I lowered my eyes respectfully. I wasn't sure if he had a title or not, so adding one couldn't hurt. "It's from his daughter. I approach the Jarl with my own two arms in earnest, on behalf of his people in Riverwood."
Irileth puffed air through of her nose; what passed for amusem*nt, I supposed. "Plucky. Proventus and the Jarl are busy, but you can leave the sword with me, and tell me your message. I'll see they are both delivered."
I bit my bottom lip, wondering how I might draw the Jarl's attention to me. "As you wish," I glanced hastily toward the throne, then back to Irileth, modulating my tone so that she might not tell that I had raised it. "I was in Helgen when the dragon razed the village-"
"Did you say,in Helgen?"
I reigned back my smirk; I had caught one of them, at least.
Irileth turned back to the men by the throne. All three were staring at me, now, though Jarl Balgruuf seemed unfazed by what I had said.
It had been the court mage who had spoken. I glanced toward him, wishing I could see his eyes through the shadows of his hood.
"I was," I spoke, hazarding a step forward. Irileth didn't stop me; merely crossed her arms and sighed impatiently.
I took this as a sign that I could continue. "I saw the wyrm with my own eyes as it landed on a watchtower and rained fireballs from the sky."
Silence met my words, and finally Jarl Balgruuf sat up a little straighter. "Do I...know you? Come here, girl, into the light."
Thank you,I mentally sighed with relief. "At once, my Lord," I hastened to the lowest step, stopping beside Adrianne's father, and dipped into a curtsy; no mean feat, given the sword still in my arms. "I am Celeste Passero."
"You may rise, Celeste Passero," the Jarl murmured easily.
When I glanced up, he was motioning for me to come closer. Hastily turning toward Proventus, I wordlessly offloaded the parcel into his arms.
"What-?"
"You're Samuel's daughter, are you?" Jarl Balgruuf asked.
"Yes, that's right," I stopped on the top step before him. I glanced upward hastily; a dragon's skull, rumoured to be anactualskull of a dragon and not simply a work of art, glared down at me.
I averted my eyes from the hollow-eyed skull, back to the Jarl. His eyes flickered over father's ring before they lifted and searched mine.
"You have his eyes," he muttered in quiet astonishment.
"So I am told," I conceded.
He sat back as though he hadn't expected this, but resettled swiftly, resting his chin thoughtfully on his hand. "I was very sorry to hear about what happened to your father, Miss Passero. I trusted him as though he were my Thane. I can see his manner about you, now I know he's there," he changed the tone of conversation swiftly, shaking his head a little as he sat straighter. "Tell me what you saw in Helgen. I have heard too many versions for my liking."
"As you wish," I spoke quietly. I took a measured breath to ease my racing heart; his kind words about my father threatening my calm. "Ulfric Stormcloak was caught and being led to his execution, overseen by General Tullius of the Legion," I laid out the facts for him; the Jarl did not appreciate wordy displays. "The dragon landed on the watchtower and screamed at the sky. Clouds formed and turned scarlet, and began raining molten balls of rock down on everyone, regardless of the colours they wore."
The court mage shifted in the corner of my vision. When the Jarl's eyes flickered to him, I also turned to check his response.
"Speak your mind, Farengar," the Jarl prompted.
The court magelifted his head, though not high enough for me to see his eyes. "Did it notbreathethis fire you speak of?" his accent was strong - he must have hailed fromthe farnorth before hecameinto the service of the Jarl.
I shook my head resolutely. "Not at first," I explained. "Firstthere werefireballs from the clouds.Thenit breathed fire, but only when it saidYol Toor Shul."
I suppressed my shudder as thewordsfire inferno sunechoed through me.
Farengar snorted in disbelief. "Who told you those words?" he asked rudely.
I crossed my brows at him. "Nobody told me anything. It heard it, plain as day, from the dragon's mouth-"
"Impossible," the court mage turned to Jarl Balgruuf dismissively. "Dragon shouts are indecipherable to the ears of both man and mer. The only exceptionwould be the Greybeards themselves, or-"
Balgruuf held up his handfor Farengarto pause, and the court mage complied at once.
My mind reeled and raced in the heavy silence. Had I been...alonein hearing what the dragon had said? And - moments ago, hadn't thehousecarl atthe entrance been unimpressed, sarcastic even,when I had asked about what the dragon hadsaid?
"Continueif you will, Miss Passero,"the Jarl commanded evenly with a hint of intrigue. "But if you are making up stories, Farengar will know."
"I...on my father's honour, I am telling you the truth, my Lord. Have none of...?" I faltered, paled;looked helplesslybetween Farengar and the Jarl. "The other reports," I fumbled swiftly; cleared my throat. "In the other reports,has no onementionedthat the dragon spoke?"
"None," Farengar confirmed bluntly.
I flinched. "Okay..." I accepted quietly.I gripped the front of my dress; a doomed effort to keep calmas Isearched the shadows of his hood. "Was I not supposed to understand it?"
"Certainlynot-"
"That depends,"Jarl Balgruuf cut the open-mouthed Farengar off with a calm rumble, flashing the mage a hard glance. "Undercertain...circ*mstances, others havebeen able to understand and speak the language of the dragons," he drawled. He and his mage shared a weighty glance.
Their gravityscared me, and I searched for a way to draw our conversation back to its intended course.
"I'm not going to pretend to understand how it's possible that I did," I admitted."And- Helgen is not why I am here."
Jarl Balgruufleaned back more comfortably on his throne, as though the silent look he had shared with Farengar had settled some matter between them. "Then you had best tell me your real message. What you didn't mean to tell me has created stir enough," he motioned for me to proceed.
I nodded, relieved. "I'm here on behalf of the people of Riverwood.A family therefed, clothed and sheltered me, after Helgen. But before I reached Riverwood that fateful day, I saw the dragon soar over the mountains above the village," I tried desperately not to mince my words, but it was more difficult in the wake of their knowing looks. I yearned to spin a fantastic tale; to distance myself from what I'd experienced.
Takinga steadying pause,I lowered mytone in an effort toquiet my muse. I couldn't detach fromthisstory; it had really happened. Alvor, Sigrid and Dorthe werecounting on me to get thisright.
"My contract prevents me from staying and protecting them myself."
And -Hadvarwas relying on me to take care of them.
"They are a village of good, hard-working people, my Lord," I swallowedthe lump in my throat andpressed on. "Their homes are wood and their roofs are thatch. Should the dragon descend, they will not stand-" my breath hitched. I paused, blinking back swift tears.
No weeping,I commanded.They're alive yet.
"What would you have me do, Miss Passero?" the Jarl asked in amindfulrumble. "If the Imperial Legion were no match for this wyrm, whatchance will my men stand against it?"
Another deep breath and I felt calmer; liftedmy chin. "The Legion didn't know about the dragon. We do. Your men will be far better equipped to meet a dragon than themen, women and children of Riverwood will on their own," I posed.
"So, youdowant me to send soldiers," he grimaced, castinga knowing glanceProventus' way. "And it will not be long before the other towns are asking for assistance, too," heturnedto his court mage emphatically.
"I assure you my Jarl, I amworkingon it," Farengar inclined his head.
On what?
The Jarl shook his head and sat forward; his frustrated eyes settled on me again. "All right, Miss Passero. I'll send a legion to join those who patrol the region,on the condition that you remain in Whiterun to relate the whole of your tale to Farengar. In particular-" he added, speaking up as Farengar tried tobutt in, "these words that you heard the dragon speak."
His eyes were hard and piercing, and a force within me growled; impatient and offended. Ishoved it down; gripping my dress tighter; my hands shook.He is sending aide to Riverwood.
"Thank you," I curtsied graciously. "Of course, I am happy to remain in Whiterun for as long as I might be of service, my Lord," I agreed politely.
Write a letter to Alvor and Sigrid. Icouldn't outright refuse a Jarl's request when he had bent to mine. Theywould understand.
"Excellent," he sounded brighter, friendlier, and when I rose, his eyesshone mischievously. It was a look that strangely suited hisweathered, aging face, and I felt brighter all at once.
The corner of my mouthlifted, and I turned hastily to the court mage. "Do you want to talk about itnow?" I asked directly.
Farengar shook his head. "I have somereading to do this afternoon. Call on me first thing in the morning. My office is through there," he motioned toward the right of the hall.
Turning, I squinted andmade out the form of a desk in the gloom beyond an open archway.
"Irileth, a word," Balgruuf murmured.
When I turned back, Iunderstood that our audience was over. The Jarlwas on his feet, and on the move, motioning forthe Dunmer to follow him.
"But," I stammered, though evidently not loud enough for either to hear me.Glancing betweenthe retreating form of the Jarl and his housecarl, to the court mage, I managed; "What do I do now?"
Farengar smiled secretively. "I suggest you secure accommodation for the night. There are several inns in town that might suit you, Miss Passero. Now if you will excuse me – I havebooks to consult before our little chat," he departed for his office.
When I remembered that I had money in my pack - from the deal with Adrianne Avenicci - the constriction in my chest eased. I could pay Alvor and Sigridback whatever I had to use. "Yes, of course," I murmured in farewell. "Until tomorrow, then."
"I look forward to it," hecalled over his shoulder.
He disappeared into the adjoining chamber; after a pause, a warm glow flickered across his desk. I crossed my brows as the shadows in his room lengthened, but before I could wonder for too long about what he expected of me, someone settled by my side.
It wasAdrianne's father; the wrapped sword still in his arms.
He sighed, and his eyes were on Farengar's office as well. "Celeste?" he confirmed with a small, regretful shake to his head. "Samuel spoke of you, and your sister,when he waswith us. I recall that he missed you keenly."
My smile was bittersweet as I imagined father sitting with Proventus in the hall, both discussing their daughters. "I miss him every day."
"Very good," Proventus didn't really seem to be listening. Heheld out the parcel in his arms. "And this –it is from Adrianne, yes?" he confirmed.
I nodded, wishing I could shake the melancholy as swiftly as he seemed able to. "She asked if you might pass it to the Jarl, on her behalf."
Hehmmed, but chose not to elaborate; his eyes adopting a faraway glaze.
Clearing my throat, Itook a step toward the exit. "I suppose I should be going."
"Try the Bannered Mare, dear," Proventus called idly as I retreated. "Your father stayed there, if I remember correctly."
I thanked himwithout stopping. A strange weight settled aboutmy shoulders. I had achieved what I had set out to do, but I felt flat, and my task seemed far from over. Perhaps it wouldn't feel complete until I was back in Riverwood?
I was about to step out of the great doors of Dragonsreach when a slender hand fell to my arm from the shadows.
"You're Thane Passero's daughter?"
I turned to face the woman who had spoken to me in the entryway earlier. Her slim fingers closedabout my wristurgently, and her green eyes were wide and bright with tears.
Itwisted my arm gently so she would release me. "I am. Did you know him?"
Shenodded, letting go as a smile lifted her entire face and she laughed, shaking away her tears as she held thehand out to me instead. "IknewI recognised those eyes. I'm Lydia," she introduced.
"It's always nice to meet one of father's colleagues," I shook her hand dutifully. "How did you know him?" I asked bluntly. Rather unfairly, suspicion wound its way into my tone. This woman, this Lydia was younger than my mother andverypretty, despite looking like a sellsword. If she had been close enough to father to notice his eyes then maybe-
Lydia laughed again, letting go of my handas she threwher head back. "Oh, don't look at me like that," she shook her head in amusem*nt. "I was assigned to be his housecarl,each time he came toWhiterun," she owned. "Since he brought none with him," she added with a half-shrug.
"Oh,"my eyes widened. Why had I assumed the worst? "I'm – sorry. I didn'tmean-"
"Yes you did," Lydia cast me a knowing, sidewayssmirk. "ButI forgive you. Hewasa very good-looking man, and had henotbeen married Iwouldhave-"
"Lydia!" I hushed, scandalised, glancing around swiftly to besure nobody had heard. "You're talking about mylate father!" I reeled.
Lydia clapped a hand on my shoulder in acomradely fashion, andIjumped. "And we shall meet him when Sovngarde takes us," she sighed, calming. "I mean no disrespect. I am..." shehesitated,considering."I'm truly sorry for your loss. I do not manage grief well, I'm afraid."
"It'sall right," I replied graciously. I could hardly give lessons in grief management myself. "It was nice to meet you, Lydia, but I must be going. I need to secure accommodation for the night," Iglanced toward the door; took a step away.
"Of course. If you're bound for the Bannered Mare, watch out for Mikael."
The dryness in Lydia's tone made me take pause. I turned back, andwaited for the woman to explain.
With a glance at the empty hall around her, Lydia shrugged and stepped beside me. "Come on. I'll take you. The sight of memightscare him off."
She pushed open the doors.I blinked and shielded my eyes with an arm as the afternoon sunlightwashedover us.
"Who's Mikael?" I asked carefully as I fell into step beside her. An uncomfortable itch crept under my skin and I tried to shrug it off. I had heard that he had taken up position in Whiterun, but surely she couldn't mean thesameMikael...
Lydia's distaste was evident. "He's the Mare's resident bard," shedrawled, unimpressed. "Blonde git, fond of the lute, thinks himselfquitethe ladies man. More of a public nuisance if you ask me," she grated.
I groaned, lowering my head into my hands as we walked the concourse over the moat. Itwasthe same Mikael.
The Mikael who had tried to woo every female student at the Bard's college. The very man whose behaviour hadsteeledthe rest of us against pursuing romantic interestswithin the college,to remain professional towards one another.
The Mikael who had stolen my first kiss, before I had understood what he was made of.I hadbarely turned sixteen when I had entered the college, and despite it being widely known that the men of Solitude were not at liberty to court my sister or I until we had graduated, he had pursued me.
"Ah,I see. You already know him," Lydia resolved quietly.
I nodded, though couldn't bring myself touncover my face.
"Did he-?"
I shook my headswiftly; if she didn't ask, I wouldn't have to imagine it. An ironic laugh bubbled out of me. "He...tried. I figured out pretty quickly that he thought me only a challenge to be conquered."
Lydia made a disgruntled sound.
Relieved that Lydia had warned me of the roguish bard's residency, I decided that I didn't wish to navigate around him if I could help it. If he was still on his personal quest to bed as many women in Skyrim as possible, hemightwant toreminiscewith me. I stopped and turned to Lydia, pleading, "There are other inns, right?"
She nodded, though didn'tseemall that pleased. "The Drunken Huntsman. But its full with permanent residents," she cast me a supportive look. "The Mare is not so bad. Don't worry, little one."
"I'm not worried," I flushed. We continued on our way, descending the steep stairs toward the bleached-white Gildergreen. "I'm annoyed," I resolved.
And truthfully, I was. Annoyed that I had agreed to remain in Whiterun; annoyed that the court mage had notinterviewedme straight away about Helgen so I might leave; annoyed that the Jarl had not offered to accommodate me in Dragonsreach; annoyed that I would need tonavigate my wayaround Mikael over the course of the night. I tried to shakeitoff, and wished that I couldgoback to Riverwood instead.
"Rightfully so," Lydia mused thoughtfully.
I glanced to her. She was staring at theCompanion's home; the top wasvisible over the wall from the stairs.
"Remind me; are you the daughter who is the bard, or the mage?"she asked idly. Her eyes remainedon theoverturned ship.
"The bard," Isuppliedsuspiciously.
Lydia turned to me then, all smiles. "Then youmighthaveanother option," she motioned toward theship. "The Companions don't like magic, but they might let a wandering bard entertain them for the night in exchange for food and board?"
I frowned at the building, considering. "But, my lute was destroyed..."
Lydia clapped me on the shoulder; again, I startled at theoverly-familiar gesture. "You have your voice.From what Samuel told me, itis all the instrument you need."
I glanced at her; taken back by such...faith in my abilities, from a woman I had just met. What had father told Lydia?
She grinned at me; gave a little sideways nod. "What do you think? Want to plead your case to Jorrvaskr before resorting to the Mare and Mikael's lecherous ways?"
"Towhere?"
"Jorrvaskr. That's what they call – it doesn't matter," Lydia waved at the upturned boat.
A smile played on my lips as weresumed walking around the great white tree. The raving man was still standing above it, still shouting about Talos. Lydia completely ignored him, so I did the same, focussing instead on where I had heard the name of the Companions' hall before. I recalled swiftly - of course -Jorrvaskr. It had been the name of the ship that had carried Jeek of the River and his men to take Saarthal, before they had journeyed south to settle by the Skyforge.
"I would feelmuchbetter knowing you were being kept watch over by Kodlak Whitemane than the likes ofHulda, Mikael or no," Lydia muttered.
"Who – what? Lydia, I'm nineteen, I don't needwatching over-"
"Sorry, I didn't mean it like that," Lydia flashed me an apologetic glance and stopped half way up the stairsthat ledto the ship –Jorrvaskr. "Old habits," she added with a sigh. "I can go back to Dragonsreach, if you'd prefer?" she offered with a sideways glance.
I lifted my eyebrows at her and shook my head. "You may do whatever you wish. You're not my housecarl," I reminded her with a poke to her arm. Itwassolid. "But, as for tonight," I turned back with a sigh to Jorrvaskr; glanced over the cracked wooden beams of the roof - ship. "Perhaps itwouldbe best to talk to this Kodlak abouta show in exchange for a bed."
I wouldn't have to dip into Sigrid and Alvor's funds, if the Companions took me in for a night.
"There's hours until nightfall, anyway," Icontinued, waving toward the sky;it was only mid-afternoon. "If this doesn't work, I can resort to the Bannered Mare. It's only for one night, after all."
"As you like," Lydia gave a bow and fell into step behind me when Icontinued up the stairs.
The double-doors looked ancient; heavily carved and linedindark iron, with stainthick in the creases.I reached towarda curling, wrought-iron handle,and the sound of acrashand athudsounded from within. I stilled, glancing up; my breath hitched.More soundsof struggle came.And - wait -cheering? I quirkedabrow. What was going on?
Pushing the door open and peering inside, Ispotteda Nord woman and Dunmer man brawling in the large, open hall. Nobody seemedinterested in stopping them.Several of the onlookers were, in fact, egging the pair on; the source of the cheers.
Lydia stuck her head in over the top of mine and snorted in distaste. "Perhaps the Mare is not so vulgar an option."
I shushed her, praying that she'd not been overheard; I did not want them to turn onus,particularlyif I was to attempt to find work here. "Brawls are common enough in taverns, too. This is just another potential job," I convinced her; convinced myself.
Lydia grumbled a reply but whatever she said was lost to thecrackof shattering wood. The Nord had thrown the Dunmer onto a side table and hit him in the stomach; a strike that had splintered the wood beneath him.
"Allrightallright - yield! I yield, Njada!"the mer gasped for air, then coughed, doubling over and grasping his stomach in what looked like severe agony.
"Milk drinker," the Nord's lips curled back and she bared her teeth; snarled at him. She wasfierce, all hide armour and war paint, with the whitest-blonde hair I'd ever seen and lithe arms rippling with muscles as she cracked her knuckles. "Now give me my money," she demanded.
Lydia'slight touch tomy arm brought my attention back tothetask at hand.Iglancedaway from the pair, rallying my courageas I approachedthe nearest onlooker.
She was an Imperial woman in her twenties with kind eyes and hair as dark as mine, but cut short, fastened at her temples in Nordplaits.
"Excuse me," I hushed, not wanting to draw the attention of theentireroom. "Could you direct me to Kodlak Whitemane?"
Sheturned to me, and her grin falteredasher eyes met mine. "You...?" she looked me up and down uncertainly,thenher eyes flickered to Lydia in confusion. "...want to speak to Kodlak? Do you mean to join us?"
The woman's questiondiddraw the attention of a few of the other Companions, but they didn't interrupt. On the other side of the room, Njada raised her voice, and some of the pairs of eyes left me.
"Ah, no," I swallowed my fear and held my chin up higher,rallying a smile. "I am seeking employment for the night, andwishto offer my services as a bard."
"Oh!" the Imperial laughedheartily. "I see. That'dbea nice change - a while since we've had a bard in here," she turned and waved toward a set of stairs that led to a lower level. "Down there, through the doors, and all the way to your right."
"Thank you," I bobbed, hastening away. I was curious about the elaborate carvings and expensive-looking wall hangings within Jorrvaskr, but I didn'tlinger; I could do that tonight, if they agreed to my terms, while I performed. Ididglance over the other Companions, while I had a brief opportunity to, though. Most of them were more interested in Njada and the Dunmer's conflict than my arrival, though a stern-looking older man on the sidelines with a shock of grey hairwatchedus;his arms crossed and his narrowed eyes following Lydia as we moved along.
I averted my eyes and bit my bottom lip, uncertain of whyLydia'spresence might cause trouble. Were housecarls not allowed in Jorrvaskr?Did I really want to find out?She was only here on my account.
From the landing, I turned to her hurriedly, checking with a quick glanceifthe old man was still watching her. He was.
"I should take it from here, Lydia," I smiled, not wanting to cause her alarm, or she mightneverleave me. "I am well equiped to handle negotiations on my own. Unless that is - you want to singwithme?" I quirked an eyebrow. "Can...you sing?"
Lydia had looked concerned to begin with,but laughedat the close. "They would pay me not to. All right, little one. I understand," she smiled in good-humour. "You come up to Dragonsreach and find me ifanyone gives youtrouble, all right?"
I nodded,half turning,intentondescending. "I will. Thank you. Father would have..."
I paused, wishing I hadn't said anything the moment the words left my mouth.Lydia's smilefell.
I sighed and turned away,glancing down the stairs. "He would be pleased to know that someone was looking out for me," I finished quietly.
"It's no trouble," she dismissed evenly. Her boots tapped against the floor boards as she stepped away. "Not like I have anythingelseto do," she addedina mutter.
I glanced after her. Had she meant for me to hear that?
Shecrossed the hall andleft Jorrvaskr, without hesitation. I frowned after her. Lydia had taken it upon herself to see me to Jorrvaskr, out of what? Respect for my father? Or boredom?
While Iwondered over the woman, my eyes drifted to the hard-eyed old man who'd been watching her. His eyeswereon the door she had left through. Hesmirked, then relaxed, then started talking to the man on his left; a fearsome-looking bald warrior in heavy steel armour. The pair shared a laugh.
My heart fluttered anxiously at the prospect ofsleepinghere.
It's one night, I reminded myself with a dismissive shake to my head. I descended the stairs, and the walls either side somewhatdulledthe noise from above.Sing, sleep, wake and return to Dragonsreach. Pester Farengar until he asks what he needs to know. Go back to Riverwood. Simple.
At the bottom of the stairs, I checked myself briefly. My hair was a mess of knotted braid, and I untangled it hastily, easing my fingers through the larger snarls to make it presentable. With a quick pinch to my cheeks, and a small bite to my bottom lip, I smoothed my dress down and pushed open the door. I was ridiculous; somehow, I was more nervous about approaching Kodlak than I had beenabout going tothe Jarl of Whiterun!
But nervesaregood, I reminded myself.I could use themto turn on the charm, and be the bard that I had trained to be.
