When the two opened the doors they were confronted with a huge crowd that was jeering and booing rather loudly toward a stage to their right.
"Traitor!" A woman yelled before staggering back at the sight of the large Orsimer.
Though Ghorbash got a few startled glances most of the crowd remained focused on the captain of the guard and the man in his grasp. The Talos amulet around the man's neck stood out like a spotlight.
The Dovahkiin tugged gently on Ghorbash's arm and he leaned down so she could whisper in his ear: "Who do you think he is?"
"A fool for getting caught," he replied in an undertone.
The Dovahkiin gave him a sly smile that quickly slipped off her face when she heard a little girl give a cry.
"They can't hurt uncle Roggvir! Tell them he didn't do it!"
"Positions," the captain of the guard said from the stage. The scythe the headsman held glinted in the afternoon sunlight. Ghorbash admired how Roggvir didn't flinch.
"Svari," the man standing next to the girl said, "you need to go home. Go there and stay there till your mother comes."
Ghorbash frowned as the little girl ran away crying. Paleface children were so sensitive, an orc child would never sob like that.
"Lock the city gate," the captain said.
"Good thing we got in when we did," the Dovahkiin murmured.
"You should tell her that her uncle is scum that betrayed his High King! Best she know now Addvar," a woman said on Ghorbash's left.
"You're all heart, Vivienne," Addvar said.
"Roggvir. You helped Ulfric Stormcloak escape this city after he murdered High King Torygg. By opening that gate for Ulfric you betrayed the people of Solitude."
The Dovahkiin tugged on Ghorbash's arm again while the people shouted abuse at Roggvir.
"I'm going to get closer."
Ghorbash nodded and watched her slip toward the stage, admiring the way she seemed to become part of the scenery. She moved from the back of the crowd to the front without a single person seeming to take notice of her.
"There was no murder!" Roggvir yelled, trying to speak over the screams that called for his death, "Ulfric challenged Torygg! He beat the High King in fair combat!"
"Liar!" A High Elf called out.
"Such is our way!" Roggvir continued, "Such as the ancient custom of Skyrim, and of all Nords!"
The boos became louder than ever and Ghorbash attempted to locate his companion. He had only taken his eyes off her for a moment and she was already gone.
"Guard," the captain said, "prepare the prisoner."
How had he lost her? She was limping and her golden hair was sure to catch the light.
"I can prepare myself." Roggvir told the captain.
Again, Ghorbash felt a sense of respect for him.
"Very well, Roggvir. Bow your head." the captain commanded.
Was that her? It had to be, though a hood was pulled over her head and... no, the woman was much too tall.
"On this day..." Roggvir said, "I go to Sovngarde."
The scythe glinted again as the executioner raised it above his head, and then, with a wet thud, Roggvir was dead.
The Talos amulet slid across the stage, but before it could fall off a hand quickly grabbed it, the slight of palm going unnoticed by everyone but the orc. He had found the Dovahkiin.
He stayed in place as the crowd dispersed, ignoring the startled looks he received from those who had not seen him come in. From their looks he could guess he was the only orc in the city.
His companion found him and bumped her hip against his, sliding off the leather helmet she had placed on her head to cover up the blonde.
"Let's go to the inn, I want to clean up before I meet the General."
"He would perhaps like you better bloody," Ghorbash replied, the corner of his lip twitching up.
The Dovahkiin laughed loudly, attracting the attention of passersby. "Perhaps we should have saved the guts of that sabrecat so I could drape them across myself. I could tell them that I had just slaughtered a fleet of Stormcloaks."
"I would be your witness," he replied, causing her to laugh again.
"That's kind of you," she told him as he held open the door of the Winking Skeever.
The inn was more crowded than it typically would be in the afternoon, as many people had turned toward drink after the execution, and thus many people looked up at the newcomers as they entered.
The Dovahkiin nodded toward the crowd but made a beeline toward the counter.
"Welcome to the Winking Skeever, my friend!" the innkeeper said, purposely avoiding Ghorbash's eyes in favor of addressing the Dovahkiin, "Need anything just say the word."
"We'd like two rooms, sir," she told him, waving Ghorbash away when he reached for his coin purse.
The innkeeper's eyes flickered nervously toward Ghorbash, but he kept his smile.
"Ah! Would that I had two rooms! My inn is busy today, fair lady, I will rent you the last room I have, and I am sure your... friend here can rent room to sleep in the stables at Katla's farm."
"The stables!" The Dovahkiin exclaimed, and Ghorbash tried not be touched that her surprise was genuine, "He is my companion, not my dog. No, he will sleep with me."
"With you!" the innkeeper yelped, scandalized.
"Yes," she said, back-tracking, "the room has a floor, does it not?"
He nodded shakily. "Yes, I suppose they do. That will be thirty septims."
"Thirty!" the Dovahkiin replied, "Why, I've never heard of such a thing! That would buy me three nights in Whiterun!"
"This is not Whiterun," the innkeeper responded snarkily, "This is the capital of Skyrim. Now, do you want the room or not?"
"The thirty will include four meals and two baths."
"No meals, no baths."
"Four meals, two baths."
"One meal, no baths"
"I'm afraid my companion is not very pleased with that proposal."
Ghorbash took the hint and bared his teeth, letting a growl rumble in his chest as the innkeeper looked at him.
"Three meals and one bath for 35, it's the best I can do."
The Dovahkiin made a face, but reached for her coin purse nonetheless.
After counting out thirty five coins for the greedy innkeep, the Dovahkiin and Ghorbash sat down at a table in the corner, ready to be served their first meal.
"We look like a couple of vagabonds," she whispered conspiratorially to Ghorbash, her lips quirked up in a mischievous manner.
"Every day that you are with me you shall look like a vagabond," he told her, watching as the smile fell off her face.
"That innkeeper had no right to do that," she said with a sneer, the hand resting on the table curling into a fist, "You did nothing to provoke him, and to say you should sleep in the stables! Why, I never met such a dog!"
Her rant was cut short by a young girl, about fourteen, arriving at the table with two bowls of vegetable stew. Despite the fact that Ghorbash could clearly see the table to the right was eating fresh salmon and fatty duck, the soup smelled so good that neither him nor the Dovahkiin complained.
"We thank you," his companion told the girl, her smile and words genuine.
The girl seemed a bit taken aback by her politeness, but she smiled back nonetheless.
"I will be right back with your bread and mead, my lady," she said, and even gave a nod to Ghorbash before hurrying back to the kitchen.
"Kill 'em with kindness," she told him, and her mischievous smile appeared again.
Her philosophy seemed to work, as when the serving girl came back it was with fine mead, fresh bread, and even some cheese.
"Thank you, dear," the Dovahkiin said, and slipped a coin in the girl's hand.
The girl curtsied to the Dovahkiin, gave a nervous smile to Ghorbash, and slipped away.
"Always tip," she told Ghorbash, using her spoon to stir the heat out of her soup, "She will tell others that we're rich and generous, and we will be treated better for it."
Ghorbash nodded before taking a sip of his mead. Imperial mead, soaked in juniper berries. He used to drink it all the time when he was in the army.
The two didn't talk while they ate, but Ghorbash discovered, to his delight, that the Dovahkiin didn't eat much, and was quite generous with her leftovers.
"I'll tell the serving girl to get the bath ready," she said while he finished her soup, "then we should sell some of this junk in the markets while they're still open. It should be ready by the time we get back. I'll go first, if you don't mind, seeing as I'm paying for it."
Ghorbash nodded, he was just glad that she was letting him use her old bathwater.
After he was finished the Dovahkiin informed the serving girl of their plans, and after another coin in her hand and a few murmured words the two set off into the marketplace.
"She told me to go to Bits and Pieces," the Dovahkiin said, "It should be that one over there."
She walked with a purpose toward the shop, Ghorbash just behind her, scanning the perimeter. When they entered the shop they went up to the counter to speak with the Redguard woman there.
"Beirand said that you got here just before the execution, must have been a lovely first sight," she said, speaking to the Dovahkiin and giving an uneasy glance to Ghorbash.
"Who is Beirand?" the Dovahkiin asked conversationally, leaning against the counter.
"Beirand's my husband," the woman said, her voice pleasantly low, " He works the forge up at Castle Dour. I barely see him nowadays, what with him filling orders for the army."
"Were you at the execution?" the Dovahkiin asked, unloading a few scrolls and some jewelry from her bag.
"No. That was an ugly affair. High King Torygg's death has turned the whole town on its head," she turned over the jewelry and made an appreciative face, "And between you and me? He wasn't even that good a king. All of those rambling speeches about the Empire this, and the Empire that..."
Ghorbash gave an airy huff of laughter, and the shopkeeper actually smiled at him.
"Don't worry," the Dovahkiin said, winking conspiratorially, "we won't tell."
The shopkeeper laughed.
"This is great stuff, but you might want to sell these scrolls somewhere else, I'm afraid I don't know to much about magic, I might underprice them."
The Dovahkiin shrugged. "I'd rather have a one-stop shop. Will you buy this sabrecat skin and meat?"
"No meat," the shopkeeper said quickly, before Ghorbash could pull it out of his bag, "You'll want to sell that in the marketplace. I'll take a look at that skin though."
Ghorbash nodded and pulled out the skin, laying it on the counter.
"By the divines," she murmured before looking up at them, "I've never seen anything skinned so well."
"Because you have never seen orc work," he said proudly.
"I'll pay you twenty five septims just for this skin, 350 for the rest."
The Dovahkiin looked to Ghorbash for confirmation. Surprised that she would consult him, Ghorbash nodded.
"Excellent," she said with a smile, "We'll take the 350."
The woman nodded and unlocked a chest behind the counter. After counting out the right amount she swept the items the Dovahkiin brought her into her arms and put them behind the counter. The Dovahkiin looked at her own coin purse in appreciation.
"Thank you," she told the shopkeeper, "Have a good day."
The shopkeeper nodded. "Come back to Bits and Pieces anytime. My name is Sayma if you need anything else."
The Dovahkiin thanked her again, and after saying goodbye her and Ghorbash were back outside.
"I'll give you your share when we get back to the hotel. I just didn't want to fool with splitting it up in the shop."
"Hotel?"
"Sorry, I mean inn."
Ghorbash nodded, too surprised that she was planning on splitting the gold to actually say anything.
After a small bit of haggling over the sabrecat meat the two made their way back to the inn to take a bath.
The inn was a bit more crowded now that it was later, and Ghorbash and the Dovahkiin had to weave through the tables to follow the serving girl up to their room.
"What's your name?" the Dovahkiin asked the girl as they climbed the stairs.
"Minette Vinius, my lady. May I enquire yours?"
"I am called Dovahkiin," she told her, watching Minette's eyes widen.
Minette didn't say anything for the rest of the walk, and left quickly after showing them their room.
Ghorbash looked appreciatively at the steaming bath in the large copper tub, anticipating when he would get in it. He hoped that the Dovahkiin would not take so long that the bathwater would cool.
He opened his mouth to ask if he should leave, but the Dovahkiin preemptively answered the question by starting to unabashedly strip down in front of him.
"Could you go ahead and wipe down my armor while I'm in the bath?" she asked him, shucking off her boots and gauntlets, "I'll do the same to yours while you bathe."
Ghorbash nodded, collecting her clothing and retrieving her helmet from her pack.
With the jingle of a few buckles and a grunt the Dovahkiin took off the rest of her armor, baring herself completely, her fingers skimming the water to test it.
She was milky white underneath her armor, pale as the snow the Nords thrived in. A few moles stood out on her pale skin, and she looked far to soft to be a warrior, like porcelain. He looked away quickly from her pebbled pink nipples and the soft, downy hair between her legs to gaze at her thigh.
"Let me see that wound, I do not want it to spoil."
The Dovahkiin complied, limping over to his side.
Gently, he unwrapped the bandages and examined the cut.
"You heal well," he told her as he gently prodded her thigh, "You should be healed in a few days. Wash, and I will paste it after."
"Thank you," she told him, and walked back to the bath, slowly getting in, hissing through her teeth as the hot water hit the gouge in her leg. She was so small that the water went up to her neck.
She sighed in pleasure as the water loosened her muscles, and Ghorbash scrubbed her armor clean with a rag and pitcher of water he had found on the side table. She stayed still in the water, her eyes closed and breathing even, and Ghorbash wondered if she had fallen asleep.
After about ten minutes, however, she opened her eyes and reached for the bar of soap.
A strange sense of peace came over him as he watched her bathe. She was humming a tune he had never heard before, and the gentle splash of water made good accompaniment to her voice.
After she had finished scrubbing her skin and washing her hair she got out of the bath, toweling herself off.
"Let that air," he told her, "I will wrap it when I'm done."
The Dovahkiin nodded, taking a seat beside him on the bed, still naked and wet. She looked small, so small next to him, like a little bird in a rainstorm.
He felt almost ashamed to bare himself before her, but he did it anyway, not to be intimidated by a child. He felt large and clumsy next to her small frame, his scarred and mottled green skin ugly next to her soft, pale flesh. Regardless, he was still naked, and he did not miss her raised eyebrows at the sight of his cock; his time in the army informed him it was quite a bit bigger than a paleface's.
A tempting part of him wanted to acknowledge her appraising look, to jeer and ask her if her tight little cunt could handle being stuck by an Orc, but she did not deserve his crudeness, so he simply looked away and entered the tub.
The water was still comfortably warm when he sank down in it, and though there was a little bit of grime in it it was still relatively clear. He had the worst of it, and the blood of the sabrecat finally floated off in the water.
Though the copper tub had dwarfed her, it only came up just below his shoulder blades, and he had to hunch in the water to wash off his chest.
She kept humming as she washed the dried blood off his steel armor, her wet hair dripping on her shoulder as she worked.
Every once in a while, when he knew she wasn't looking, he would stare at her, his eyes drinking in the figure she painted. He felt, all at once, a sense of contentment and of longing, an outsider looking in through a window, to admire from afar.
He took less time than the Dovahkiin had, not stopping to relax and getting out as soon as he finished scrubbing himself clean.
"I'm not done with your armor yet," she told him, dipping the rag back in the pitcher.
Ghorbash shrugged. "I will tend your leg then."
It was quite the bizarre experience, both of them sitting, naked as the day they were born, as though this was a common occurrence.
As she cleaned his armor he smeared the wheat paste on her leg, watching, mesmerized as the flesh twitched and her chest heaved. She finished with his armor as he rummaged in his pack for bandages, but he didn't put it back on, sitting peacefully as he wound the bandages around her thigh.
"You are done," he told her, breaking the silence. She nodded and rose from the bed, putting her armor back on, after a small pause he did the same.
"It's just now starting to get dark," she told him, looking at the light coming in through the curtains, "We should see the general before we eat."
Ghorbash said nothing but nodded in assent.
The inn was more crowded than before, but Ghorbash did not shrink at the looks of astonishment and disgust he received from some of the patrons, instead focusing on the babbling that was coming out of his companion's mouth.
"I hope I'm not arrested, the last time me and General Tullius met was at Helgan, and I was maybe sorta about to be beheaded before that dragon showed up. Oh, don't worry," she told Ghorbash as he shot her an incredulous look, "I didn't actually do anything wrong, I just happened to be in the same place as the Stormcloaks at the wrong time."
"Was Ulfric Stormcloak not at Helgen?" he asked as he opened the inn door and they walked into the dusk.
"Yeah," she answered as though it was no big deal, "He was gagged most of the time, but he did kinda help me escape, before I teamed up with Hadvar, that is. Speaking of Hadvar, I hope he's sent a recommendation for me by now."
"How can you speak of this so casually?" he asked as they climbed the ramp by the apothecary.
"Oh, believe me, I freaked the fuck out when it was happening, but after about 48 hours it was out of my system."
"What should I do if you are arrested?" Ghorbash asked, "Kill them?"
For a moment, the Dovahkiin looked strangely touched, but she shook her head.
"No, just let them arrest me. If I can break out of Cidhna mine I can break out of whatever dinky prison they have here. Just wait by the stables and I'll meet you there."
Ghorbash nodded, staring uneasily at the two Imperial guards that stood on either side of the door to Castle Dour.
He was afraid they would not let them in, but the guard on the left gave a little bow to the Dovahkiin and opened the door, saying, "Dragonborn."
The Dovahkiin gave a curt nod and walked in like royalty, her walk both strong and graceful. Ghorbash felt like an awkward hulking brute as he trailed along behind her.
"You knew this would happen when you told the girl your name," he said quietly, realizing that even her most casual action was a deliberate move to get what she wanted.
The Dovahkiin only smiled wickedly over her shoulder before walking into the main chamber as though she belonged there.
The main chamber held two people arguing fiercely over a table with a map of Skyrim laid upon it. When the Dovahkiin entered the two looked up in agitation.
"Are my men now giving free reign to anyone who wanders into the castle?" a man with impressive gold plated armor asked.
He was older, with gray hair and wrinkles lining his skin, but with a strong, proud face, consisting of tanned skin and high cheekbones. Ghorbash decided this must be General Tullius.
"Do you have some reason to be here, citizen?" the General continued, looking at the Dovahkiin. Apparently Ghorbash had been written off as a bodyguard or servant, but to be fair, he kind of was.
"I believe we've already met," she answered, a hint of a smile playing at the corner of her mouth.
"Have we?" the General asked, his head cocked to the side, before recognition lit up his eyes, "Oh. Of course. You were at Helgen! One of the prisoners if I recall correctly."
The woman in imperial garb looked up sharply at this information, her eyes sticking to the Dovahkiin like needles.
"I was set free," the Dovahkiin answered calmly, as though they were talking about the weather, "I could have gone anywhere. I came here to fight for the Empire."
The General chewed on the inside of his cheek a moment before nodding.
"I suppose that's true. Fine. Why don't you have a chat with Legate Rikke. I suspect we might have use for someone resourceful like you, not many survived Helgen. Besides," he said with a sly smile to match the Dovahkiin's own, "I'm sure your being imprisoned was all a terrible misunderstanding."
The two nodded at each other in a mutual respect before Tullius turned back to the map and the Dovahkiin turned to Legate Rikke.
"You survived Helgen?" she asked, eyebrows raised, "General Tullius told me what happened, not many made it out alive."
"Not many have the luck that seems to follow me around," the Dovahkiin said with a grin.
Rikke made an impressed face.
"I've got a good feeling about you," she told the Dovahkiin, "and I don't often get good feelings about anything. A warrior knows to trust her gut..."
She looked appraisingly and the Dovahkiin, and for the first time, acknowledged Ghorbash as well, looking him up and down as though he were a prize hog.
"I'm not going to go through the normal process with you," she told them, "I've got a little test lined up. Pass that, and we'll talk about you joining the Legion."
"I can handle anything you throw at me," the Dovahkiin said with a smile that cut like a knife.
"Is that confidence, or bravado?" Rikke asked, brow arched, "Confidence I can use, bravado gets soldiers killed. We'll soon find out. I'm sending you to clear out Fort Hraagstad. If you survive, you'll pass. If you die, then I'll have no further use of your corpse."
The Dovahkiin didn't seem daunted by this callus statement, picking up one of the flags on the table and turning it over in her hands.
"What's at Fort Hraagstad?"
"The ancients built many of the fortresses that dot the landscape of Skyrim," Rikke explained, frowning at the commandeered flag, "Sadly, most have fallen into disrepair, and nearly all have been overrun with bandits or other vagabonds. Fort Hraagstad is one of the few that remains mostly intact. We're going to install a garrison there, but first, you're going to clean out the bandits that have moved in."
"Consider that fort already yours," the Dovahkiin said, putting the flag back in the wrong position.
"Good, that's what I want to hear," Rikke said, so pleased she didn't comment on the flag, "Now go make it happen soldier."
With a nod at Rikke and a wink at Tullius the Dovahkiin took her leave, Ghorbash trailing faithfully behind her.
"We'll leave in the morning," she told him over her shoulder as they trekked down the ramp of Castle Dour, "I never travel at night, not if I can help it."
Her skin was purple in the dusk, and the moonlight made her hair look more brown than blonde. Her eyes sparkled like stars in the darkness, and Ghorbash was suddenly glad for her policy.
They took their supper at the winking skeever, complete with the finest wine and the fattest goose, which Ghorbash suspected had something to do with the fact that she was Dragonborn, and went over logistics of the next day, plotting out the route on their map in the corner of the tavern.
When they reached their room the Dovahkiin looked surprised to see Ghorbash roll up his pack like a pillow and lie down on the floor.
"What are you doing?"
He looked at her in confusion.
"There is only one bed, you told the barkeeper I sleep on the floor."
Giving a laugh that was more incredulous than humorous, the Dovahkiin swept her hair out of her face.
"I didn't actually mean that. I'm sorry, I should have told you. I only said that so he would get off my back. I was thinking we'd share the bed, it's certainly big enough."
Ghorbash looked dubiously at her. One the one hand, if a serving girl walked into their room and saw them sleeping together they would have trouble, but on the other hand he had already slept on the floor the previous night, and he wasn't as young as he used to be.
His aching bones relented, and he settled down on the bed, lying wide awake as the Dovahkiin buried her nose in his shoulder and slept.