This is a story about Lydia and the Dragonborn (female). A major male character or two will be introduced in the next chapters. I have not yet decided whether I want romance in this fanfic or not.
It was the fifth of the Morning Star when Lydia heard the cry. She was alone, returning to Whiterun on foot—her steed had died in an unexpectedly difficult errand at Fort Greymoor. Lydia noted no sound but the crunch of the frosty grass and the rhythmic clanking of her freshly wetted blade in its sheath. Everything was all right; what mattered was that the bandits were dead. As Whiterun's stables came into sight, Lydia drew her blade to wipe the blood from it.
The cry began with a tremble in the earth, like the echo of a stone cast off a high summit, but the sound was from above. Then from the sky the voice thundered, uttering three syllables in an archaic tongue. Its volume carried a formidable power, but was calm. Even with such clarity, the syllables were incomprehensible to Lydia. She knew at once that the voice was directed somewhere else, yet in passing by, it evoked within her a chill colder than any northern wind. She averted her gaze to the stables and made for the Whiterun gate, forgetting her minor wounds.
"Did you hear that, Jervar—oh, there you are, Lydia!" Skulvar Sable-Hilt called upon noticing the warrior. "What in Talos's name… You did hear it too, right?"
"I… Yes, Skulvar," she replied, surprised at the hoarseness of her own voice. "So it wasn't just me. Strange. I'm sure there will be someone in Dragonsreach who knows what that was."
The large, ragged stable master brushed the snowflakes from his beard. "I hope so. Dragonsreach—that's right, you're returning to the Jarl from that fort. Back without the steed, are we?"
"Yes, I am truly sorry. The bandits were twice the number I expected, and while I was inside Greymoor they—"
"No, no. Don't be. You're bleeding all over, any fool can see you've been in a nasty fight. I ain't mad as long as you've got the coin to pay for the horse. Good thing I didn't send you out with a finer one."
Lydia smiled slightly. "You can expect the gold today. I'll head into the city now, thank you for what you do."
She continued up the snow-covered path. The loyal city gate was not yet open; Lydia must have been the first to arrive in Whiterun that morning. A few guards were situated idly atop a nearby rock, passing a half-empty bottle of mead among each other. The guards quickly collected themselves at the sight of Lydia, being accustomed to her early morning appearances. The gate produced a loud and rusty creak as one of the guards tugged the doors open wordlessly. Lydia murmured thanks and passed into the Plains District, which was still mostly asleep, save a couple guards and shadowed beggars.
The ascent to the Cloud District was a habitual journey for Lydia, especially in such busy times. Jarl Balgruuf was distressingly busy lately and needed errands done. Word in the Cloud District had reached Lydia that he was occupied with matters of war. It was not surprising—Lydia was not very familiar with the war's latest news, but anyone could see that the conflict between the Stormcloaks and Imperials had burst into flame like a great bonfire, and more kindling was being added by the day. Lydia wished to avoid any kind of involvement with this conflict; she intended to use her sword arm only for errands on the side. She was still a Nord at heart, but wanted to stay clear of the battlefield.
The steward, Proventus Avenicci, was standing in the doorway of Dragonsreach impatiently, taking care not to get snow on his fine quilted robes. His rat-like features always gave him a slight scowl, but Proventus spoke elegantly, and there was never a day when he did not have a few valuable words of advice hidden in that bald head of his.
"One moment, please," the steward said, gesturing towards the corner of the room just inside Dragonsreach, where Lydia could hear the echo of the Jarl's voice. Proventus shut the door tentatively and brought a skinny finger to his lips, whispering: "I'm glad you came on time for this. Head towards Farengar's quarters; I'll explain in just a moment. Quickly, come along."
Lydia did as she was told, not bothering to ask what she was on time for. She sensed a general air of importance which she did not desire to disrupt. She quietly followed the steward through familiar carpeted halls and slipped into the chamber of the Court Wizard Farengar, who was dozing off at his desk, his head resting over a pile of tomes and mysterious supplies. The room was clean and in good order, filled with shelves of curiosities that Lydia preferred not to meddle with.
"There's no need to wake him just yet," Proventus remarked. "Here, settle into this chair if you please. I'll take that helmet for you."
She removed the steel helmet and stretched her sore neck, handing the helmet to Proventus. She was happy to take the weight off her legs, but helplessly confused. "Um…" she began. "Would you be so kind as to explain…"
"Oh, of course. Nothing grave, everything is fine. But Jarl Balgruuf is currently speaking with a new Thane of Whiterun."
Lydia recognized instantly her own significance in the matter. "A Thane," she gasped. "And that means—"
"Yes, the Thane will have the privilege of your services as housecarl. A fine privilege if I do say so myself."
She became lost in thought. Of course it was an exciting and significant piece of news, but was it for better or for worse? It was certainly a surprise on an already eventful day. Lydia searched her mind for questions, choosing which to ask first.
"Who is this Thane?" Lydia asked.
"You see, that's the odd part. This Thane isn't from Whiterun—in fact, the name slipped my mind. I haven't had a good look at him yet… Or her. I'm sorry but you will find that out soon enough."
"Okay… Then do you know what deed this new Thane has performed either?"
"I'm sorry again. I am of no help at the moment. If you have any other questions, I will try my hardest to answer."
Lydia came to a realization—the news had almost made her forget the cry, the extraordinary voice from above that she had heard outside the city.
"One more, sir. Did you hear that… That voice earlier? Do you know anything of it?"
"Ah. Now that is a question Farengar will surely be able to answer for you. Maybe let's wake him from his slumber—"
"Proventus! Bring Lydia here into the hall," Jarl Balgruuf's voice boomed throughout the hold.
"Oh well, Lydia, now is your time!" he teased, drawing back from the sleeping wizard. Lydia drew in a small breath before exiting the chamber, her footsteps echoing on the wood floor and she and the steward approached the throne. She was aware of the cold eyes of the Jarl, as well as the obviousness of her presence.
Jarl Balgruuf the Greater was as he usually appeared: clad in jewels and embroidered robes, sitting back in the throne with such comfort that it only enhanced his intimidating demeanor.
"I assign you Lydia as a personal housecarl," he said to the stranger standing before the throne. Lydia's spine shivered at the utterance of her own name, though she could not wholly understand why. However, years of involvement with the affairs of the Cloud District had given her the ability to become a mask when she needed to; any feelings boiling inside would remain as she wore her honor and duty like a suit of keenly forged steel. And this was the suit she donned as the Thane turned around.
"It is an honor, my Thane," Lydia said before even looking at her new superior, longing for a quick response to end the nervous introductions. When she finally looked upon the stranger, Lydia was struck by surprise.
Lydia was not expecting it to be a woman. She was also not expecting it to be such a small woman; she stood nearly a head's height above her Thane. The woman seemed as shaken from battle as Lydia, her cheek marked with a jagged cut that looked almost like the scratch of a claw. Her features were those of an Imperial, with eyes like two steel-gray lamps shining from beneath black brows and eyelashes. She looked stern and tired, but there was a certain elegance in the tatters of her cloak and the way the scratch curved along the contours of her face.
"I… It is also an honor for me. My name is Rena." Rena spoke slowly, her voice softer than Lydia had expected from her stern and authoritative appearance. Before she could say another word, the Jarl called the Thane's attention.
"There is more to give you, Thane of Whiterun," Balgruuf said with more than just a hint of superciliousness in his voice. "This axe, from my weaponry. Consider it a little gift—I think you will find it useful." He held the ornately crafted steel war axe in open palms, Rena giving a small respectful bow as she accepted the weapon with both hands. "Both of you are free to go now. Oh, just be sure to stop by Farengar's quarters. I have no doubt the events of today have confused you. Farengar will… Clear that up."
Lydia bowed modestly to the Jarl and turned towards her Thane, waiting for her words, which were simple enough:
"Would you show me the way?"
"Of course, my Thane. Follow me please."
Lydia's confidence was reassured by her knowledge of Dragonsreach, and Whiterun as a whole. She had been born in Whiterun, and never travelled far; she knew the city almost as well as the Jarl did. There was no part of Whiterun that was a secret to her. Of course the same could not be said for her Thane—Lydia found some petty solace in this fact, which kept her calm enough.
"It is right to the left," she said, stepping aside for her Thane to enter the wizard's chamber first. This time Farengar was awake, but the swelling around his eyes and ruffled robes made it clear that he had not been awake for long. Farengar was not an old man, but he seemed to have aged in his weariness. It was the fatigue of a man in the middle of intense studies, a man with a temporary obsession.
"Greetings, Thane of Whiterun," Farengar welcomed Rena. "Well, we should not waste time. You both want to know about that voice, correct?" The wizard did not wait for an answer. "You, Thane. Dragonborn. I'm sure you have been addressed with that title a couple times already. Would you pronounce the words for us, the words from that clamor we all heard this morning?" For a brief moment, silence filled the chamber.
"Do-vah-kiin." The sounds came from Rena's lips as barely a whisper. Dovahkiin. Those were the syllables, the ancient words that Lydia could not identify. In a strange way, the words in her Thane's whisper made Lydia feel the same chill that she had felt at the sound of them booming from the sky.
Excitement began to show in Farengar's tired eyes. "Of course. You can guess what that means, can't you, Dovahkiin."
Rena glanced solemnly at the floor. "The voice… It called me, didn't it? After I… Shouted. Someone wants me. You know who it is—I do not."
"You are correct, Dragonborn. I will stop teasing you and get to the point. What you heard was a summons from the Greybeards. All you need to know about the Greybeards is that they live at High Hrothgar, high on the Throat of the World, the mountain by Ivarstead. It is in their interest to aid you in your learning of the Thu'um—the shout. The rest will be clear once you arrive at High Hrothgar. But you and Lydia should get ready as soon as can be. You do not want to keep the Greybeards waiting."
"Thank you, Farengar. We will make preparations."
Lydia allowed her Thane to exit before grabbing the steel helmet and following her outside of Dragonsreach. She found herself with more questions newly risen than Farengar had answered. Lydia knew at least that her Thane had earned the title by slaying the dragon at the Western Watchtower. Lydia had received some limited information on that event, but there had been nothing to prove that the dragon Mirmulnir was more than a rumor from the Whiterun streets. Her mind had not drawn the connection. It seemed that the rest of her questions could be answered in a conversation with Rena, but only if she would condescend to converse with her housecarl.
Lydia could not draw very much information about Rena's character from their first interactions. She did not know what to expect of her, especially with the way that the relationship between a Thane and his housecarl varies infinitely based on the identity of the two. Some Thanes would treat their housecarls as their most trusted friends and advisors, some as a mere servants, some only mules for the transportation of valuables. A Thane might take a housecarl to bed for more "personal" services—Lydia was glad that her chance of getting into that sort of situation was very slim.
Lydia did not know where her Thane was going, but she followed her footsteps in silence as they descended through each district in the thickening snow. Not a word was spoken between the two, but the city was growing noisy enough with the sun's ascent in the ivory sky that the silence was kept from becoming uncomfortable. In fact, the bitter cold was all that made Lydia uncomfortable at that moment—she was born a Nord, but the winter had been strangely cold. Lydia wondered how well Rena was adjusting to the harsh winds of Skyrim, if she was from Cyrodiil. If her Thane had any complaint, she kept it well hidden as any warrior would.
They soon reached the city gate, now held open with iron chains as the city was wide awake. A group of travelling Khajiits had halted their caravan while Lydia and Rena were in Dragonsreach, and they were raising a crude camp which hugged the city wall at a point where it was unguarded. One could not deny that the cat-men looked pitiful as they tried to secure their tents in the snow, their fur covered in snowflakes. Lydia still did not trust the Khajiit, and thought it best to keep them out of the city.
Therefore, Lydia was surprised when her Thane stopped walking abruptly and turned towards the tents. A pale-furred Khajiit caught sight of Rena and ceased his labor.
"Hello friend," he said to Rena in a quiet, deceitful voice. "If you're looking to buy, this one cannot help you today." His Eyes squinted in the cold wind. "We have work we must finish."
"Please, Ri'saad," Rena responded. "There is no need to bargain this time. Just a few potions of healing, for the usual price. Here, I have the coin." She drew a coin purse from her satchel and held it before her.
"Oh alright. This one has trouble refusing. I will bring them now." The Khajiit ambled to his cart, lifting the lid of a chest within it and peering at the contents. He reached a clawed hand into the chest and pulled out five bottles of a bright red healing solution. He dropped them into Rena's satchel before holding out his hand to accept the coin. "Thank you again. May your road lead you to warm sands."
Lydia stood silently and watched the purchase. She knew better than to ask her Thane why she was dealing with such people as the Khajiit. Soon, her Thane was on her way back into the Plains District. This time, the two arrived at The Bannered Mare. It was a popular tavern in Whiterun, but Lydia did not frequent taverns. Lydia was slightly vexed at the manner in which Rena walked about without speaking a word of her purpose or destination. Lydia was a housecarl, however, and she knew there were many things she would be expected to tolerate.
The bannered mare was especially crowded that day; Lydia could barely hear Hulda's words of welcome over the drunken townsfolk chattering about the fire, as well as the bard Mikael playing Whiterun's favorite tune: Ragnar the Red. The commotion faded slightly as Lydia followed Rena into the dimly lit hall. Rena led her to the door at the very end; this was where it was quietest. It was not until she gently pushed the door shut that Rena spoke.
"I'm sorry for all this."
She hung her cloak on a hook by the door and slung her satchel off her shoulder, emptying some of its contents into the bedside table: the five potions from the Khajiit, a few rolls of parchment paper and a few pieces of charcoal, a plainly made silver ring, and an amulet of Mara.
"Farengar left you confused, I am guessing. That is fine, since I can probably tell you what you wanted to know. But first…"
She shut the drawer of the table and her eyes met Lydia's. "What is your job exactly, as housecarl?"
The question could not have been an easier one to answer. "As housecarl, I am sworn to protect you and all that you own, with my life."
"That is all?"
"Any other agreements are for you to decide, my Thane."
"I see." Her stare was still piercing, but Lydia had come to the conclusion that there was no message that Rena was attempting to convey to her. At that point, it was becoming clear that her Thane was lost in thought.
"I suppose it is my turn to give you answers then," she began. "Nothing is clear for me either, but something happened at the Western Watchtower that gave me a new identity among the guards." She sighed, and at that moment Lydia almost felt equal with her Thane in their disorientation. "When I killed that dragon," Rena continued, "When I killed Mirmulnir… I felt something transfer from the dragon to me. It was like an incomplete part of me became complete, with what the dragon left for me—I cannot explain. Then I heard the name "Dragonborn" from one of the guards. They had noticed what happened. They asked me to shout. I…"
Her words ceased abruptly, and started again on a darker tone. "It feels difficult to keep talking."
"You do not have to continue," Lydia interrupted in spite of herself, "if you don't want to, that is. I already understand a little more. I would not demand anything of you, Thane."
"It's fine," she replied. "It's just…" Her voice grew even quieter until the muffled sound of the lute from the main room was dominant. Then Rena's gray eyes glittered strangely with what might have been fear. "You know how Ulfric killed the High King."
Lydia knew her silence would speak a better message than her words. She knew then that she was housecarl to the Dragonborn, the one whose tale would be in songs for millennia—even if the Dragonborn did not know this herself, Lydia knew. She had known at first glance.
"But we need to rest soon," her Thane announced. If there had been a hint of a shudder in her voice, it was gone. "Will you accompany me tomorrow on the journey to answer my summons?"
"Yes, Dragonborn." She said.
