This is the first chapter of our lore-friendly Thorki Skyrim AU. We were looking around and were amazed that this combo hadn't been used. Because we love them both so much, we decided to give it a go.
We hope you enjoy, leave us a review! :) x
Chapter 1
As soon as the great city gates opened to reveal the bustling streets of Whiterun, he knew he was home. Well, as much as he would ever be. This place had become more familiar to him in the past week or so. He was beginning to recognise faces. But to them, he was just another traveller, a pilgrim. It didn't matter. Soon he would be compelled to leave and find a calling elsewhere.
He started down the cobbled street, passing Warmaiden's and the Drunken Huntsman. A few drunkards called out to him as he passed, but the warrior had no time for frivolities, for now he needed to rest.
"Perhaps another night," he thought. The few souls still about the marketplace were readying to leave for home, back to their firelit houses and straw beds. A comfort that he didn't have. They would never have to leave them behind in an endless search for revenge.
As the door of the Bannered Mare shut behind him, he was enveloped in the glow of the warm hearth and the aura of the lost warriors drowning their sorrows in mead wishing that they would come faster to a glorious end, for they longed for the halls of Sovngarde.
He drifted past Hulda, keeping in the shadows of the oaken beams. He spares a glance for Hulda; she knew him enough not to question what he had done, or why he was here. For this she deserved recognition.
In the corner he spies Uthgerd the Unbroken. Even he knew her story, as everyone in Whiterun did. Her past could not be changed, but all were welcome in the Bannered Mare. They acknowledged each other silently: a mutual understanding of each other's isolation.
He ghosted up the dim stairwell, the steps creaking under his footfalls. The sound made him wince. He had got used to silence after spending two nightmarish days deep in the bowels of the earth. He made straight for the bed after closing the door to the inn room. The only thing on his agenda tonight was sleep.
He awoke feeling rested. Down the creaky stairs once more. The fire was still smouldering in the hearth, and the last few drunkards were stumbling out of the door, still revelling in the previous night's joys. He trudged sleepily up to Hulda who was still behind the bar.
"You look as though you're preparing for something big," she remarked.
"I'm due for an audience with the Jarl at 8:30," he replied.
"Well then," laughed Hulda, "You should probably get going. Wait any longer and you'll be late. It's 8:25 already."
She turned her back on him then, finishing up the washing of last night's tankards. She drew a breath readied to speak again, only to see the door swinging shut behind the warrior.
He stormed up the steps that lead to Dragonsreach, ignoring the disdainful stare from that pretentious fool Nazeem.
'The Jarl better have reward enough for me after all I've done for him,' he thought sourly.
The doors to Dragonsreach. A bridge to another realm, one of wealth and good living. One that was no longer his to know. With no great effort he opened the intricately carved doors as prepared to make himself known to the royalty of Whiterun.