So I've been playing Skyrim ever since I received it this past Christmas and my God; I adore Oblivion but this portion of the series is absolutely fantastic! So after a long period of trying to figure out which side to join, I eventually sided with the Imperials after hearing Elisif's account of Ulfric's killing of her husband. And so began the beginning of a pairing that's grown substantially overtime. Hope you guys enjoy. xx
The Dragonborn entered the Blue Palace, ignoring the Solitude guards that eyed him warily. Ever since he'd been mistakenly accused of assisting the Stormcloaks, not many were keen to trust him once more. Through the working of General Tulius and Jarl Elisif, they were able to prevent the entirety of Solitude from attacking the Dragonborn on sight. He'd thanked General Tulius by freeing the men that had been imprisoned in a Stormcloak fort. But now was the time to return the favor to Elisif, the future High Queen of Skyrim.
"There's something… personal… I was hoping you'd do for me."
The Dovahkiin gave a small jolt, one that went unnoticed by the Jarl. "What can I do for you, Jarl?"
She smiled faintly at him, her eyes searching for his through his helmet. "Falk told me what you did for us at Wolfskull Cave. He says you're someone we can trust. I would like you to take an item of his; a warhorn handed down from his father, and place it at the Shrine of Talos. "
He relaxed, his shoulders easing downwards. For a brief second he had thought she would ask of something else. Elisif tilted her gaze slightly, aware of the Dovahkiin's change in posture, but merely waited for his response.
"I would be honored to help," was his only reply.
The Jarl smiled, one more genuine than the previous. "Thank you. It would mean a lot to me."
And so he had left for the Shrine of Talos Falk had generously marked on his map prior to his departure. Though he had made the trip there safely, the journey back was not as simple, consisting of numerous encounters with wolves, a few trolls he was lucky enough to evade with the disposal of his iron armor, and a rather nasty bear controlled by a Spriggan. He still bore the wounds received from the bear, small in width, yet large in length scratch marks from where the bear had aggressively swiped at his exposed shoulder. The wounds had bled profusely, but slowed a considerable amount once he had fled the forest clearing. Had he not been in such a dire situation, the Dragonborn would have stood his ground and fought. The image of Elisif's state of horror upon receiving news of his death bothered him; he did not expect Elisif to mourn him deeply, but the thought of spending an eternity in Sovngarde without her was too much for him to bear.
A second day's journey led him to the gates of Solitude and to the door of the Blue Palace, where, inside, he was now ascending the steps to the Jarl's throne. He held a tight smile in place for her, but it dropped when he found the throne empty. He glanced at the tables where her steward and court wizard often sat, and was surprised to see they were not there. After a quick examine of the room, he realized it was empty. Only the guards at the door occupied the palace. He leaned over the balcony railing, calling to the guards.
"Where is everyone?"
One of the two guards answered, in an annoyed tone, "Didn't you see on your way here? It's the second of Sun's Dawn. Everyone in Solitude is out celebrating Mad Pelagius."
"And we get stuck with guard duty for the Jarl, who isn't even here," the second guard grumbled.
"Did she say where she'd gone," the Dragonborn inquired. He hadn't guessed Elisif was one for celebration.
"Said something about waiting for a warhorn. Only Azura would know what she meant by that, or where she went for that matter."
"She wasn't in her room?"
The addressed soldier shrugged, leaning on the wall. It was apparent he'd grown bored of the conversation. "Could be. There isn't any other way out of the palace except through Pelagius's wing, but we would've seen if she'd gone through there."
The Dragonborn nodded and moved away from the balcony. He knew exactly where she'd be. He silently left the throne area and slipped towards the hallway adjacent to the throne room. A pair of double doors stood closed at the end of the hallway. The Dragonborn stared intently at them, debating on approaching. A low whisper of "Lass yah nir" allowed the Dragonborn to see the bright glow of life behind the closed doors. He smiled grimly as the seated figure shot upwards seconds after he uttered the Shout. He closed his eyes, willing the effects of the Thu'um to fade, before approaching the doors. He gently pushed on one of the doors, cringing as both of them swung open. He forgot that the doors often acted in such a manner.
"I thought I'd felt someone searching for my Aura."
The Dragonborn chuckled quietly as he approached Elisif. Her back was to her company as she gazed out of the window of her bedroom and to the crowd of jubilant people outside the Palace.
"I've placed the horn at the shrine."
"Falk said I could count on you."
Her faint reflection in the glass windows revealed her smile. She turned her back on the celebration below and faced the Dovahkiin. "Thank you."
The Dragonborn bowed his head, keeping his eyes on hers. "My Jarl, is there anything else you need?"
Elisif began to speak; a smile playing on her lips, then hesitated. She quickly turned back to the window in hopes of masking the blush she felt rise towards her cheeks. The Dovahkiin's eyes held more than power; the gentleness in his gaze alarmed her, which had prompted her to turn away. He reminded her far too much of a song she secretly coveted.
"There is room in my court for a new Thane. It's an honorary title, mainly, but there are a few perks someone like you can make use of."
"To be a Thane in your court would be an honor."
"I could only grant the title to someone who is known throughout my Hold, and who owns at least one piece of property in my city."
"The people know me, my Jarl. You know this."
Elisif frowned, facing her visitor.
"And the property?"
The Dragonborn smiled, tugging a coin purse from his belt. "Of course."
He handed the bag to Elisif, who took it from him with shaking hands. She weighed it decisively, and placed it on the nearby end table. When she turned, her eyes landed on the Dragonborn's shoulder and the scabbing wounds.
"What happened to you?!"
He brought a hand self-consciously to the scars, lightly tracing them.
"It's only a scratch."
Elisif shook her head, taking his arm and sitting him on a chair nearby. She fumbled through the bed's end table and pulled a rag out from it. She approached her wardrobe, determined to ignore the hanging silence as she removed a bottle of wine from her wardrobe and placed on the table next to the Dragonborn. As she soaked the cloth in the bottle's contents, Elisif made to speak, but no words formed. What was she to say?
Before she could decide, the Dragonborn spoke out words she was not sure even he had control over.
"Why did Ulfric kill your husband?"
Elisif's fingers twitched, struggling to keep her voice steady. "Because that's what traitorous cowards do when they desire power."
She dabbed the alcohol-soaked cloth as gently as she could on the Dragonborn's wounds, anger she'd thought long buried beginning to resurrect like one of Alduin's dragons.
"Ulfric coveted the High King's throne. He thought he deserved it more than Torygg. And so he came before my husband and he… he shouted. With that terrible voice. When Ulfric unleashed such fury, my husband, he… he simply ceased to be." She quickly wiped away a threatening tear, though more quickly accumulated at the Dovahkiin's touch as he slowly turned towards her, taking her hand in his.
"Do you still mourn for Torygg," he asked. Elisif's eyes flickered dangerously, bordering on anger and sorrow. She pulled her hand away from the Dragonborn's, and chose her words carefully as she responded.
"No. No, I do not mourn Torygg's death any more than you might. What I truly mourn for is the division of Skyrim. It pains me to see the state of the land, the turmoil it suffers through. I pray to Talos every night that I will be able to help the people."
Elisif applied slight pressure to the cloth, resulting in an involuntary cringe from the Dragonborn. She apologized quietly, removing the crusted blood that stained the Dovahkiin's skin before letting the cloth drop onto the table.
"I think that will have to do for now. You can see Angela for additional remedies, if you must."
The Dragonborn gazed at her as she left his side and stood by the window overlooking the city. He hesitated, before pushing away from the chair. Elisif flinched at the scrape of the chair but refused to face him.
"I did not mean to upset you." The Dragonborn approached her, looking over her shoulder through the window. He could see children chasing each other, playing Tag, and numerous adults guzzling ale and laughing amongst themselves.
He shifted his gaze to the back of Elisif's head, sensing her distress. He reached out, his hand wavering inches from her. Elisif closed her eyes, turning her head slightly towards the Dovahkiin. He gently brushed the hair from her shoulders and away from her neck; at this she tensed. She felt him pause, and focused on breathing, struggling to relax.
She felt his touch once more, his fingers dancing lightly along her neck, followed by cold lips pressing gently against her warm skin. A slight shiver coursed through her body as the Dovahkiin's touch instantly calmed her. She no longer felt the weight of Skyrim's fate, nor troubled by the chaos that was slowly descending throughout her people. Like the people outside, she banished her sorrows for the moment. She faced the Dragonborn, the faint sounds of the song floating from the crowd outside. A song that told of a legend they all knew and loved.
Our hero, our hero, claims a warrior's heart.