"Nid! Zu'u unslaad! Zu'u nis oblaan!" A sweep of the World-Eater's wings sent her flying back, barely being caught by Hakon One-Eye before she crashed into the cliff face beyond them. Ysmir tossed her hair out of her face, staring wide-eyed at the great black dragon as ribbons of light arched between him and Aetherius above them, almost as if he were unraveling, being unmade. He roared and flashed, rearing upward and unfurling the wings that had once shadowed her execution. Glowing red eyes met hers briefly before he exploded in a great burst of light, bones turning to ash and vapor as the spirits of Sovngarde cheered around her.
"A great victory, Dragonborn," Hakon said approvingly, putting the girl down and taking a step back as his sister Gormlaith launched herself at the smaller woman, laughing heartily.
"The wyrm is dead, and the day ours!" she exclaimed, arm around the Dragonborn's shoulders as she turned back to the rest, grinning like a mad thing.
Ysmir just stared at the spot where Alduin had died. "His soul…" she said softly, perplexed, "Why didn't I get his soul?"
"Ysmir?"
She jumped, turning to smile brightly at Jarl Balgruuf. "Yes?"
The tall man frowned slightly, "Are you alright?"
"Of course," she quickly reassured him, tucking a strand of bright red hair back under her circlet where it belonged, "Just...reminiscing."
The jarl smiled, obviously in high spirits, "I imagine there is much to reflect upon. The festivities are well under way, however, and people are wondering where their hero is."
Suppressing her dismay at the title, she summoned a grin. "I don't suppose they'd notice if I just stayed here?"
"I'm fairly certain you would be missed," he laughed, offering her his arm. As jarl, he was her official "escort" for the evening, although Nords were much more lax about such things than the people in Cyrodiil or—Aedra forbid—Alinor were. Ysmir could only thank her lucky stars that a legendary hero was not expected to dress as a lady, and had opted for a long, split tunic in emerald green with Nordic knotwork and wide, metallic copper sash from Radiant Raiment, her hair caught up in braids twining with a thin copper circlet. The last thing she wanted was to have to explain how someone that had supposedly grown up in a poor orphanage instinctively started acting like nobility when laced into the costume of one.
Taking his arm, they left the Great Porch where she had been avoiding the celebration of her defeat of Alduin a year ago. A whole year. One year since she had trapped a dragon on this very spot and gone to the Nordic Afterlife. A year since she had lost Ralof. Two since her near execution at Helgen. Three since her escape from the Thalmor that had reared her to be a tool of intrigue.
"What's so funny?" Balgruuf asked curiously as they descended the stairs into the main hall, watching her rueful expression as she scoffed, shaking her head.
"I just turned eighteen," she said after a moment of deliberation. "Doesn't all this—" she waved her arms at the party decorations adorning the walkways and massive wooden pillars with their knotwork reliefs "—seem a little ridiculous? I mean, what now? Most of Skyrim still thinks of me as a child, before they learn who they're talking to. Is this all that my life is going to be? I just…I don't know," she finished, frustrated.
There was a moment of silence as Balgruuf considered her words. "If you mean do people expect you to continue to be a hero, to be the subject of songs and stories, I suspect so. Why? Does it bother you?"
Ysmir shrugged, "I just hope they don't expect me to top saving the world, is all. They're bound to be disappointed."
The jarl laughed, throwing his head back and making his beard tremble, "Says the girl who just beat back the vampire menace. Speaking of which, where is your friend?"
"She needed some time," Ysmir said, not sure how much to explain about Serana. "It's been a long while since she spent any time with her family."
"Ah," Balgruuf said. Did he sound disappointed? Ysmir supposed she couldn't blame him; Serana was possibly one of the most beautiful people she had ever encountered, and had the bearing of a princess to boot, even if she did complain about the weather more often than not. She wouldn't have had anything to complain about tonight, however; the sky was perfectly clear and filled with stars, the aurora out in force, augmented now and then by bursts of Khajiit firecrackers and the occasional display by Farengar. The whole town was lit, bedecked at the higher places with the Court Wizard's mage lights, candles, and even a paper lantern from Morrowind here and there, sporting a captured torchbug or two. The rest of the city seemed to be making do with the normal torches and lanterns.
A slow cheer went up as people noticed them descend the stairway from Dragonsreach, starting in the Gildergreen square and moving down to the market district. There were tables set up there, rather than the usual stalls, filled with citizens from every hold in Skyrim, come here just for the occasion. She supposed she would have to visit all the holds eventually if they decided to make this anniversary celebration an actual holiday. It was certainly starting to look as if they might. Well, it wasn't every day the end of the world was averted—unless you really paid attention, anyway. Most people seemed to have no idea how many plots were perpetually in motion to change, destroy, or take over the world, or at least a country or two. Thankfully, most never got to the point where they needed to be stopped. Incompetence stopped more schemes than all the heroes combined ever would.
Balgruuf halted at the last tier, smiling and waving to the newly scrubbed and well-dressed populace. "Would you like to make a speech?" he asked, loudly enough that several people nearest them heard and made encouraging sounds.
Ysmir rolled her eyes. "I'd rather fight a dragon," she replied, earning a laugh. The sun had barely set, but apparently several people had already started on the mead. She really shouldn't be surprised; these were Nords, after all.
Well, she might as well try to have some fun. She spotted Kodlak and Skjor on the bench across from Jorrvaskr the same time the jarl did, and he gave her an encouraging nod and released her arm, allowing her to scamper down the steps in a deliberately lighthearted way to her friends. Where Skjor was Aela could usually be found nearby, although the woman wasn't really one for parties, and Kodlak seemed to have taken a grandfatherly interest in her that she wasn't sure how to react to, but found oddly pleasant.
"We-ell! If it isn't the little bookwyrm," Skjor crowed as she approached. She stuck her tongue out at him, and he grinned puerilely. Ysmir raised an eyebrow, realizing the normally insouciant, serious warrior was already frolicking in Sanguine's territory. "Kodlak, did I ever tell you how I met the Dragonborn?"
"Several times," the Harbinger said, amused.
"She was on a book run for the College," Skjor went on as if his friend hadn't even spoken, slurring his words slightly. "A mage looking for books. And she found me instead! Can you believe it?"
"Boggles the mind," the older man said, hiding his grin behind his tankard as it grew too obvious to be concealed by his beard any longer. "How much of that have you had?" he asked, nodding to the large bottle in Skjor's hand.
"Thish?" the man asked, looking at it, "I…not a lot. New meadery outside Whiterun, Ysmir. Ish good stuff. Not quite got their recipes down, but it gives it extra kick! Like a horse! A big one! Like the one that blond man kept toting you around on! That big!"
Ysmir looked down, smoothing her tunic. "Ralof, Skjor. His name was Ralof."
"Ralof! Good man! True Nord! Whatever happen to him?" the Companion asked, looking around as if he expected her comrades to magically appear out of the crowd if he could just focus long enough.
"And here's the twins," Kodlak announced quickly, seeing her expression fall. "Vilkas, Farkas, you remember Ysmir?"
"Hard to forget," Farkas laughed, giving her a friendly wave. Vilkas gazed at her impassively for a moment before turning to Skjor, ignoring her. Ysmir bristled, wondering what his problem was.
"Skjor, the night's hardly begun and you're already about to fall over," he stated, irritated.
"No I'm not!" Skjor protested, trying to stand and failing. Vilkas caught him with a sigh, sounding very put-upon.
"Aela was hoping we could all go for a run later, but I don't suppose you'll be up for it now," the smaller twin stated, turning to half-carry his Shield Brother back into the mead hall.
"I'm up for—hic—anything! Bring it on!" the inebriated man declared, waving the bottle for emphasis and hitting Vilkas in the head as several people around them ducked. Ysmir sourly wondered if the hollow sound came from his head or the bottle.
"Sorry about my brother," Farkas said, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. "He takes some time to get used to people."
Ysmir shrugged, pretending it didn't bother her. "Well, last time he saw me he thought I was a mage experimenting on a captive…Skjor, so I suppose there might be room for some lingering animosity."
"He doesn't need to be such an ass about it," Farkas said frankly, surprising her with his bluntness before he was all smiles once more. "I'll go get us some mead. Unless you'd prefer ale?"
"Do you think they'd have any brandy up there?" she asked hopefully, earning an approving look from both men and a laugh from Kodlak.
"Whoever says mages are milk-drinkers obviously never met you," he said merrily, patting the bench where Skjor had lately sat. There were droplets of mead spattered about the surface, but where his rump had actually touched the bench was clean, and more than large enough for a slight eighteen year old. "So, Ysmir, I was wondering; what is the great Dragonborn going to do now?" he asked her, tone still pleasant but with that discerning gleam in his eyes. "Alduin is gone, the vampires are scattering to the four winds…What's next for you? Are you planning to return to the College?"
"No," Ysmir replied, suppressing a shudder at the thought of Ancano. "I learned what I went there to learn. I suppose…I might just focus on my house, for now. I've never just had a place of my own before. I think I went a little overboard, though. I don't know what I'm going to fill all those rooms with, unless I just shove a bunch of chests and armor mannequins in there," she finished sheepishly.
"Have you a steward?" he asked, interested.
"Lydia," she replied, nodding. "She's taking her new job to heart, too, talking about getting a cow and a couple of chickens. I'm working on a garden, but I've never had to grow things myself before. I went in there the other day to find all my plants demolished or devoured by a rabbit!"
"A fence might be in order," he suggested, amused. "Perhaps a dog."
She shrugged, thoughts whirling, "Perhaps…Though this one ate some of my alchemy ingredients, too, so I don't think I'll be seeing it again."
"You seem a bit young to be settling down," Farkas put in, having come back just in time to hear this last bit, carrying their drinks in one hand and a platter piled with more food than she could eat in a day in the other. He handed Kodlak a bottle and Ysmir a small cup, which to her surprise was actually filled with brandy. "Especially for an adventuring type."
"What fun are adventures when you don't have a place to come back to?" she asked with forced joviality, holding a flames spell to warm her hand then carefully applying it to the glass, sniffing delicately.
"I get that," he nodded, taking a large bite out of a chicken leg. "Got a man?"
"Had one," she replied, wishing everything tonight wasn't reminding her that she was alone once more. But she wasn't, she reminded herself, taking a sip. She still had Hadvar, whenever he felt like writing back from the Legion, and Lydia, and Marcurio and Serana. And Brelyna and her friends from the College of Winterhold. And Inigo if she could ever convince him he didn't need to go back to prison every time she wanted to be alone for awhile. "Alduin ate him."
Farkas paused for a moment, mouth full of chicken. Swallowing hugely, he managed to reply "Oh," looking about as awkward as a six foot something werewolf could get.
"Dragonborn," Proventus cut in formally, giving her a little bow, "Forgive the intrusion, but some of the citizens are requesting a demonstration of that Shouting thing you do."
"Do they want me to call Odahviing to sit on the roof, too, because I can do that," she replied, irritated and not knowing why.
"Er…no, I think breathing fire into the sky will suffice," he replied, returning her good humor with his nervous tone. He actually tugged on the high neck of his Imperial style tunic.
"All right," she said, shaking her head. "Duty calls," she told the Harbinger and Companion.
"We can talk more later," Kodlak assured her with a fatherly pat on the shoulder.
Ysmir smiled, "Looking forward to it," she sassed, hopping up and following Dragonsreach's steward.
"She's pretty," Farkas noted, watching her walk away.
Kodlak eyed him doubtfully, "She's been through a lot, lad. I'm sure I'm not the only to notice this celebration is more painful than joyful for her."
Farkas raised his eyebrows, "I just said she was pretty."
The Harbinger groaned, rubbing his eyes as dragon fire arched across the sky, coming from the petite form of the Dragonborn high up on the stairs. This was bidding fair to be a long night.
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Ysmir woke the next morning a bit after dawn, head pounding with a hangover that took two Cure Poison potions to fix. Lydia wasn't back from her night yet, but her Thane strongly suspected that if she snuck into Hrongar's room, she'd find her wayward housecarl. Oh, well. At least one of them had a good time the night before. Laying back on the bed, she gazed out the window above her, where Masser peeked back at her over the bottom right corner of the sill, and a few stars still twinkled in the lavender sky. The entirety of Skyrim had celebrated her defeat of Alduin last night, so why did she feel as if there was nothing to celebrate? Perhaps it was time to have another visit with Paarthurnax. He always seemed to be able to talk her out of these melancholy spells. That, or a good adventure. Rolling out of bed, Ysmir dressed and decided to go for a walk. Maybe something would attack the city.
Whiterun was essentially deserted. Even the market stalls weren't running or, indeed, even in evidence, as the tables from last night were still set up, strewn with food and sticky with drink. Pigeons and starlings flew up from their morning feasting to hide from her on the roof of the inn, and a cat sharpened its claws where the guard usually stood. The wan morning light made everything look just a tad faded and unreal, bringing a tawdriness to decorations that had seemed cheerful and magical the night before. A flash of green caught her eye, and she turned just in time to see a small form duck under the table, hiding. Crouching to peer through the forest of chair legs and benches, Ysmir frowned at the small girl who sat on the dirty cobbles, gnawing on a piece of stale pastry from the night before. Her green tunic was threadbare and ripped in several places, the hem of her once cream underdress so caked with dirt and filth it was stiff.
"What are you doing under there?" she called.
The girl flinched, obviously not used to people caring enough to even look under a table. Timidly, as if she thought she might be about to be cuffed, she stood, trying vainly to brush dirt from her dress. Tiny, thin, and filthy enough that Ysmir could smell her from where she stood, the girl simply looked down, examining the cobbles as if her life depended on it.
"What are you doing out here?" Ysmir asked the first thing that came to mind, even though the answer was fairly obvious.
"I…it's…it's all going to go to waste!" the girl burst out, her clasped hands tightening until her knuckles turned white. They were scraped up and a bit cleaner than the rest of her, but raw and cracked as if she immersed them in harsh soap fairly often. "I didn't think anyone would mind, or miss it."
The Dragonborn shook her head, sickened. "They won't, but shouldn't someone be missing you?"
"Brenuin's sleeping," she answered.
"Er…" That threw her a little bit. The town drunkard and beggar was a Redguard, while this girl was clearly an Imperial through and through. Memory struck like a thorn, and she winced. "You're his apprentice."
"Sort of. He's the only one that's been nice to me since... since mama...since she died. My aunt and uncle took over our farm and threw me out. Said I wasn't good for anything. I wound up here, but... I…I don't know what to do. I miss her so much..." a few tears leaked out to roll down her cheeks, quickly wiped away as if she were afraid they would offend somebody, leaving smudges in the dirt.
"So you beg," Ysmir supplied, feeling nauseous. "How long has this been going on?"
"I'm not sure," the child admitted faintly. "I don't just beg. I try to make myself useful. Hulda lets me eat in the inn some nights if I help out with the dishes."
Ysmir took a deep breath, fighting down anger at the whole town. "What's your name?" she finally asked.
"Lucia," the girl replied, sounding surprised as she looked up, her eyes going round as septims when she saw Ysmir. "You! I know you! I saw you breath fire last night!"
The Dragonborn cracked a smile at that. "That I did. Lucia, why hasn't anyone taken you to the Orphanage?"
Big eyes filled with fear and tears at the question. "I don't want to go there!" she replied. "The headmistress is a Hagraven, and she doesn't let you get adopted and eats you if you make too much trouble!"
"They've…recently had an administration change," Ysmir assured her, wincing a little as young voices happily cheering the death she had just wrought played through her mind. "It's not like that anymore."
Lucia shook her head. "I don't want to go there," she repeated stubbornly. "Proventus tries to catch me to send me there, but I hide. I'm good at hiding."
"Really?" Ysmir asked, amused. She could see it though. Despite being an Imperial in Nord country, the girl had a way of fading in with the background that any spymaster would have approved of. "I bet you're good at hide-and-seek."
Lucia nodded, a small smile playing across her face that quickly vanished with the sound of heavy footsteps. Ysmir turned to glance up the stairs to the Gildergreen square, where Farkas was trudging down, looking remarkably fresh for a Nord after a night of celebration. The Dragonborn gave him a disbelieving look. "Shouldn't you be hungover?"
He grinned. "Nah. I'm pretty good at drinking. I've had enough practice to know when to stop."
Ysmir chuckled, giving him an odd look before turning back to the child and blinking. Lucia was gone, without her hearing the girl move off. A quick look under the table proved that she hadn't just ducked under there, either. Ysmir couldn't help but be impressed.
"So I was wondering…" Farkas started, and she turned back guardedly, wondering what he was thinking and hoping it wasn't what she half feared it was. She'd had her fill of those offers the night before. "Skjor said you're pretty good at not hitting your friends with lightning or whatever, and that you tend to get into some pretty interesting situations. I was wondering if you would ever consider having me along, if you needed to kill a dragon or something."
"Why?" she asked frankly, arching an eyebrow.
The sheepish grin that crossed his face took her by surprise. "I'm not too bright," he admitted, flummoxing her, "but I'm strong, and I'm good in a fight. Skjor says I have the strength of Ysgramor, and my brother has his smarts. Only, Vil keeps getting sent on these interesting, difficult missions, while I'm stuck taking one of the whelps bandit hunting. He's getting all the good stories."
A slow smile spread across her face as she saw what he was getting at. "You want my help making your own stories," she stated.
"That's the idea," he replied with a grin. "Just…don't turn me into anything? And if we could avoid spider dens, that'd be great."
"You're afraid of spiders?" she chuckled, now thoroughly amused.
"They're…crawly. They just have too many legs, alright?" he flustered, blushing and shuddering. "And eyes. Way too many eyes."
Ysmir laughed, good humor completely restored. "All right, Farkas, you're on. Next time I'm called on to take care of a dragon, I'll send a courier for you, all right?"
"Sounds good," he said with a grin. "Are you planning something with Lucia?"
She paused, "What do you mean?"
He shrugged. "Well, she needs someplace to go, and I heard you tell Kodlak you had all this extra room…I just kinda assumed you'd decided to take her in."
She shifted uncomfortably. "I'm a little young for children."
The booming laugh he gave in response startled a flock of pigeons into the air and made her jump half a foot. "Too young! You slayed a god at seventeen, and you're too young for something?"
"Good point," she conceded, smirking. "I'll talk to you later, Farkas," she said, heading to the inn. If anyone was going to be up, it would be Hulda. She hoped all the rooms weren't full. Pausing by the pile of food the girl had been plundering, she left a couple of gold pieces. If Lucia was anything like most of the street kids she'd met, she was likely watching, and she'd be right back as soon as the coast was clear.
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"My Thane, may I ask what you're doing?" Lydia asked, watching Ysmir try to figure out how all the pieces of the little bed Alvor had given her went together. Dorthe had long outgrown it, so he'd been happy to haul it out of storage for her. She just hadn't expected it to be in pieces.
"I built a house, you'd think I'd be able to figure this out!" she cried, frustrated. Never mind that she'd bought all her furniture ready-made by an actual carpenter because she'd had just this issue before. Furniture instructions should not be harder than breaking into a Dwemer lock-box!
"Yes, my Thane," Lydia agreed, picking up a leg and somehow fitting it onto one of the medium sized pieces of wood. And people called Ysmir the mage. "However, that does not tell me why we are building a child's bed."
"For a child, of course," Ysmir replied, peering keenly at what her housecarl was doing as she tried to figure out the rhyme or reason behind her actions.
"Are we having guests?" Lydia asked patiently.
"No, I've decided to adopt the little beggar girl in Whiterun."
Lydia dropped the half a bedframe she was holding, staring at the Dragonborn in disbelief. "You are adopting a child?"
"Yes."
There was a long moment where Lydia obviously struggled to come up with a better way of saying what she wanted before she gave up. "Ysmir, do you know anything about children?"
"They are tiny human beings?" Ysmir ventured, making it almost sound like a question.
Lydia groaned. "Children are not like dogs, Ysmir. They need new clothing as they outgrow their old, they need to be taught reading and writing and arithmetic, they need discipline and attention and protection. Are you sure you're ready for this?"
"Not at all," the Dragonborn admitted. "Help me?"
Sighing when she realized Ysmir was not about to be dissuaded, Lydia picked the bedframe back up and continued to piece it together, quietly resigning herself to becoming a vassal of Sheogorath.
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Lucia watched the people of Whiterun pass her by, sitting quietly under the Gildergreen. She felt better than she had in a long time. Hulda had suddenly allowed her to sleep in a trundle in the kitchen, and when the guests left today, she would even get to use one of the real beds! She hadn't slept in a real bed since her aunt had kicked her out! It was nice sleeping in the kitchen, though, with the fire always going so that it was never dark. She hated the dark. When she had made her way to Whiterun from her parent's farm, it had been so dark at night. She'd had no torch or campfire, so she'd had to huddle under rocks or in thickets, wondering what was waiting in the inky blackness beyond her.
The little girl shuddered. Well, at least in the city there were always torches, even if Hulda decided she had to start sleeping behind the inn again.
A shadow fell over her and didn't pass on, as the others had. Opening eyes she didn't remember closing, she grinned to see the pretty Dragonborn standing there, looking strangely nervous. "Hello again," Lucia greeted her with a smile. She looked like she wanted to say something. Perhaps after, she might give Lucia a gold piece. "Thank you for helping me before," she added, remembering the septims that had been sitting on the table. If she could save just a few more, she could go into Belethor's and get a pair of shoes that didn't pinch her feet so badly. "You're the best!"
"Lucia…" the woman said, shifting a bit. "I wanted to ask you something."
"All right," the girl replied, beginning to get nervous. Why was the Dragonborn acting so strange?
"You don't want to go to the Orphanage, and I don't blame you…I'm not taking you there!" she quickly reassured her as the child's eyes began to grow wide in panic. "I just…look, I'm really young—one of the first things people say when they meet me is 'but you're just a child!' or something equally obnoxious. Anyway, I'm also kinda rich, what with all the dragon slaying and people really wanting me to like them and…I'm bad at this," Ysmir ran a hand through her hair, looking like she'd wished she could start the last few minutes over. "What I'm trying to say is that I have a house, and I want you to come live there. I might not be the best mother, and you'd sort of have to bear with me as I figured this out but…well, would you want to?" Her hopeful look turned to one of dismay when she noticed the tears in the child's eyes. "Oh, Mara, please don't cry! It won't be just me, I promise. There's Lydia, too, and she had lots of brothers and sisters to take care of. And I could get a bard or something!"
"You…you want me?" Lucia gasped out, amazed. "I wouldn't be a bother or anything? You would want me to live with you?"
Ysmir stopped babbling, lips parting slightly in surprise before she nodded silently.
Fat tears poured down the little girl's face as she smiled brightly, getting slowly off the bench and stopping before the Dragonborn. "I want to hug you," she confessed, "but I'd get you all grubby."
Rather than reply, Ysmir knelt, pulling the child into her arms without hesitation. Lucia gasped, throwing her arms around her. "You're sure?" the girl asked hesitantly, still hardly daring to believe it.
"I'm sure…daughter."
Lucia smiled, closing teary eyes and finally feeling like things were going to be all right. "I love you, Momma."
~Fin~
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This was written in response to the Legends of Skyrim New Year constest-last year. ^^; It actually won! I'm very proud.