To say Edna was surprised to see Irileth, of all people, stepping forward to her rescue was an understatement if there ever was one.
Her dealings with Irileth— and Whiterun as a whole, really— had ceased almost completely shortly after they've taken down the dragon near the watchtower six months previous.
The Dunmer had not seemed to like her back then, and Edna knew for a fact that the woman hated being away from her charge and her duties more than most housecarls. The Nord vaguely wondered how they've convinced her to accept a job in Solitude, of all places, and who had the misfortune of dealing with her anger after that briefing.
There was also the disturbing matter of how the Jarl had known about Edna's execution in the first place. Yes, he knew about Edna being Dragonborn, he had heard the calling and he had a dozen soldiers who probably reported back about how she'd absorbed a dragon's soul, but there was no way that he had kept track of her activities over such a vast extent of time and distance.
Oblivion, but not even Edna herself was exactly certain about what she'd been doing since she'd fled Whiterun.
She'd fallen in with the Brotherhood after doing something stupid, though that was never, ever her intention. She'd often wondered if she would have probably been better off just answering to the damned monks' call and been done with it, but there was little option to go back after she'd sliced the throat of one or another for Astrid. It was much too late for such things.
She should have really known to make a run for it after the crazy jester had made his appearance, but Edna had never been good at knowing when to stop.
"Do-vah-kiin!"
The Shout carried loudly, causing building to shake and ricocheting painfully inside her head long after it died down, and the woman really wished she could just tell the Greybeards to shut it.
She also wanted to know how news of her execution had reached High Hrothgar, damn it, since being popular really was the worst thing to be in her profession.
Well, former profession, most likely— unless they planned on letting her go, which would just be stupid.
It was becoming more and more clear she wasn't cut out for that kind of job anyway, no matter what the Night Mother said.
If the Imperials did let her go, chances were the Brotherhood would just wash their hands of her to not have to deal with having such a disgrace in their ranks.
Maybe. Possibly. Hopefully.
'Not likely.'—her realistic side deadpanned.
Still, stranger thing had happened, as the events of the day so far could attest.
"Are you serious?"
The Captain sputtered in time with the starting of shouting and panicking amongst the crowd.
The guards rushed to intervene before anyone could reach the executioner's platform, but Edna doubted that there was much even ten or so guards could do against such a large number of rowdy people. Not for long, anyway.
The confusion at the abrupt interruption of the execution had quickly turned into anger and dismay, and voices rose making demands for her life as well as for her to be let go.
"That's the Dragonborn, y'all idiots, do you want to die?" A particularly shrill voice asked, and Edna wasn't entirely sure it came from a female, followed immediately by an equally loud: "Shut it, milk-drinker, the Dragonborn ain't no murderous slip of a wench."
There was a roar of approval, followed by even louder demands that the murderous wench and the dark-skinned liar be skinned for daring to try fool them.
Edna winced.
She started to wish she hadn't dodged that axe.
Perhaps it wasn't too late to reschedule that appointment. Ahtar certainly looked like he would prefer it like that, while Captain Aldis only seemed to grow more alarmed by the minute. His throat worked furiously as he barked orders for his men to keep everyone away from the prisoner. Next, he dropped rather jerkily to his knees and ordered Ahtar to help him with Edna's cuffs so that they would be able to move her, which the executioner did with so little regard to her bruised hands the skin broke in several places and— oh, wasn't her day just going unbelievably well?
"Captain Aldis, sir-" A guardsman called to the man's back, apprehension and gruffness in his voice, but whatever he wanted to say was cut off as someone finally broke through the formation with an enraged cry.
The same guard managed to catch the man just before he could reach the three people in the middle of the platform, placing a heavy hand on the angry civilian's neck and forcing him to his knees. Using considerable force, the guard held the man down but a few paces' worth of distance from Edna.
Her eyes snapped forward in time with his, and Edna had to fight down her disbelief as she stared back into a pair of burning eyes she remembered too well. Asgeir, she thought his name was.
The groom.
Well, damn, she guessed he really did want her dead, not that she could blame him. She wished she could let him know that it had only been business— killing his wife— but not even she was ignorant enough to think that that would help her case.
The sound of the cuffs snapping open and the shove Aldis so helpfully provided managed to distract her from the pure fury and hate in Asgeir's gaze, but she found herself looking back at him as they pulled her away and more guards came from Castle Dour to deal with the public unrest her hasty departure had only made worse. In spite of her growing unease, Edna kept Asgeir's gaze.
Strange that she would feel compelled to do that, considering that all she really wanted was to erase the picture of him from her mind and get as far away from the man as possible.
There was a strange knot in her stomach when he looked at her with such raw pain and hatred, and had she not thought herself incapable of guilt, Edna could have sworn-
Well… She had killed the man's wife on their wedding day, Edna didn't know what exactly it was she was feeling, but she found it prudent to stay away from him either way.
Aldis and Ahtar's rough handling suddenly stopped being so annoying, if only because it meant they were putting distance between her and Asgeir.
All she wanted in that moment was to get out of there, so of course, that was when the dragon landed in the middle of the market.
She just loved her life.
…
…
…
"Dragon! Divines have mercy!"
At first, Asgeir though that he heard it wrong, but ripping his eyes from the retreating form of the assassin he saw the huge blur of movement in the corner of his eye grow and take the shape of a fierce beast, wings expanded in an impressive show of colour.
The dragon's call was piercing and clear— a challenge spoken in an ancient tongue.
The guard holding him let go of him as he rushed forward with the rest of the guardsmen to cut the beast down, but there were cries of pain before they could even reach it as fire burst from the monster's mouth, melting metal and burning flesh alike.
Asgeir got to his feet shakily, the earth shaking in turn as the dragon took to flight again, its roar a thing of primal power.
"Do-vah-kiin!" It challenged. "Bo, krif zey! I long to test your Thuum!"
The flames devoured market stalls and sent people running towards the safety of the nearest stone building.
There was an unnatural silence as the long, strong body of the dragon rose higher and higher, and the guards on the ground still standing readied their shields and arrows.
The descend that time was even faster, the destruction even greater as flames scorched everything and everyone unfortunate enough to be in the market, and Asgeir had time only to press himself against the nearest stone pillar to ensure that the same fate did not befall him.
Orders were shouted for people to fall back, and amongst them, Irileth's voice snapped at the captain, arguing about something Asgeir could not make out over the sound of his own blood rushing to his ears. Whatever the Dunmer had said, though, Aldis gave a reluctant nod of his head and Asgeir watched in disbelief as the man let go of the woman he'd been trying to drag away only moments ago.
The assassin took an unsure step forward and wordlessly took the bow Irileth offered.
She moved away, towards the dragon, and took in what looked like a deep, steading breath.
There was a shift around her, as if she was drawing power from some unknown source, and when she let out the air in her lungs, he understood why.
"Yol Toor!"
He watched in disbelief as the woman breathed fire— just like…just like...
"…a dragon."
Gods almighty, but he had been a fool to believe making her pay for what she did to Vittoria was going to be easy.
Gods help him, the roaring flames seemed to mock, for ever thinking that things could be easy.
Thank you for reading and don't hesitate to tell me what you think of the story so far!
A.