The commanders had insisted that they go out for the night.
More specifically, every legionnaire not actively performing another duty was ordered to make an appearance at the Burning. To do so would show respect from the Imperials for a long held and beloved Nord tradition. Word had apparently even come down from Rikke herself that the burning of a false king was too poignant to overlook as the war dragged on. She and General Tullius were going to use the ceremony to make an announcement about the civil war as well, which Hadvar had to assume was mainly for morale.
Ever since the Dragonborn's peace summit, the soldiers' reassurances that the war would end soon, that the Stormcloaks were weakening, that the Legion remained strong, had dwindled to petty and rote recitations. The rebels had gained control of Markarth, even if they had sacrificed Winterhold and Dawnstar in the trade, and watching the blue clothed traitors patrol the city walls as he left the stone city had made Hadvar's heart burn with fresh hate. They were forbidden from engaging with the enemy, even as they learned of Stormcloak camps nearby, of potential plots, of troop movements. The most they were permitted to do was record what they knew and pray that the truce would end in time to make a difference.
And Hadvar knew the truce would end. Ulfric would never give up on his mad grab for power now, not after the Dragonborn had acknowledged his side as a strong enough opponent that she needed to hold a formal meeting for a ceasefire just to deal with the dragons.
There were moments, if he dwelled too long, that he wanted to find Aneira and ask her what in Oblivion was she thinking. And apparently Hadvar wasn't the only one in the Legion who felt that way, if the grumbles and murmurs of the other soldiers were anything to go by. But then there were far more moments when Hadvar wanted to find Aneira and hold her against him and ask her what she was thinking, was she okay, wasn't there anything he could do to help her-
Shaking his head, Hadvar mused that all these conflicting thoughts and tensions were exactly why the officers thought he and everyone else needed something to take their mind off the way the days of waiting crawled by, even if only for an evening of last minute revelry.
That was how he found himself walking toward the Bard's college his third night in Solitude, dressed in his full lightweight uniform with the exception of his helmet. Thanks to the miraculous recovery of an old Nordic Edda by some bard, the Burning of King Olaf had been hastily announced two days prior. Hadvar could almost resent the discovery, an incredible part of his people's heritage or not, since it meant he wasn't indulging in some much-needed rest.
But Hadvar was an auxiliary in the Imperial legion, and since his return to duty from Helgen he'd been more dedicated to his work than ever before. It was all he could do, considering they hadn't questioned him too carefully when he reported in over two weeks late apparently unharmed and without a Dragonborn to introduce to the General.
So, he walked up the steps to take the meat pie from Sorex with a smile, a thank you, and a promise to buy more later. He broke it apart to eat with the other citizens, some known and some strangers, and accepted the spiced wine that made the festival so popular. The dark liquid burned as pleasantly as it always did, even if Hadvar suspected his smiles didn't reach his eyes and his small talk was bland. It was made clear that he only needed to stay until Rikke and Tullius made their announcement, and then the soldiers could slip away without a fuss.
Just his luck, the College seemed eager to get to the main event as the members walked in an elegant line to stand along the rim of the small arena. Olaf's effigy had been up since dawn that day, the dried straw and rope ready to ignite at the first lick from a torch.
An Altmer male stepped forward to make his grand welcome to the festival. He gestured theatrically toward the far-left side of the arena, voice ringing out as he praised the newest member of the college for her dedication and hard work. Hadvar glanced over casually, only to furrow his brow to see Rikke and Tullius standing just behind the center of the curve, flanking the individual standing with her hands clasped behind her back.
Hadvar couldn't see much by the light of the torch the High Elf was holding on the other side of the effigy, squinting at the woman between his superiors until the elf called out for Rikke and Tullius to step forward. His eyes moved back to the general and legate, distinguishable only because of Tullius's unique armor and Rikke's gleaming steel as they moved to stand beside the woman at the rim.
"This night marks more than a celebration of the denouncement of false kings," Tullius began in a strong voice, turning carefully to face the crowds. "Just as this woman is more than a new member of the Bard's College." His general tilted his head back, bring up his right hand to gesture to the figure. "She is the Dragonborn, Aneira Grey-Dawn."
A stone dropped straight into Hadvar's stomach, throat squeezing painfully as the woman raised her chin to gaze out among the people. The darkness kept her features blurred, kept him from recognizing her.
I can't make out her face, he thought dizzily, barely listening as Tullius continued.
"She is a loyal citizen of Skyrim and the Empire, and she has fought against the dragon menace in Skyrim since it began." Tullius lowered his hand, and Hadvar watched in a daze as Rikke stepped forward.
"The Dragonborn is a savior of the people!" Rikke's voice rang out, filled with a passion that Tullius had notably lacked in comparison. "She has vanquished the World-Eater! Alduin is no more!"
The crowd erupted into cheers and applause, crying out "Dragonborn!" until Rikke raised her hands for silence.
"And now, the Dragonborn has pledged to serve Skyrim and the Empire once again!" Rikke leaned back, taking a deep breath. Hadvar felt the hair on the back of his neck rise in anticipation. "She has pledged herself to the Imperial Legion, and promised her support against the rebellion!"
Impossibly, the screams from the crowd grew louder still, and Hadvar felt himself gasp shakily as he stared at Aneira.
Your face, he thought with a touch of desperation, let me see your face. Step into the light, step-
The effigy to his right burst into flame, orange and yellow fire running the length of the straw figure in a matter of seconds. Hadvar jerked, eyes blinking rapidly to adjust to the sudden change in the light even as he tried to look at the lady again.
Shapes and colors coalesced until he saw her, garbed in dark red and illuminated by the pyre. Her hair was drawn back, and her eyes stared out among the revelers without shame or embarrassment. Aneira was smiling softly at the crowd, and eventually Hadvar realized that she would be able to see him as well.
He couldn't make out the deep blue of her eyes from so far away, but Hadvar still felt the moment they met his.
And he couldn't have looked away, not even if another dragon wanted to land on the towers above them.