The morning dawned just as cold and dreary as the night had dragged on. Raven had spent the night tossing and turning. What little sleep she'd achieved had been fleeting at that. The nights were always the hardest. They drudged up old memories, manipulating the comfort of the darkness into something sinister.
She could have told Brynjolf. She could have opened her mouth and spilled all her secrets, laying them out between the pair like a soldier's guts seeping from an open wound on the battle field. She could have. But she did not.
Instead their brief meal of dried meat and cheese passed in awkward silence. Both refusing to break it even with something as simple as a "morning." Neither even acknowledge the other with a formal nod.
Such was the remainder of their journey. The consistent clopping of the horses' hoofs and the dark clouds hanging over head, made the time pass at a grinding pace. It was enough to tempt Raven into closing her eyes, if just for a moment.
The landscape changed from cold and rainy and dark to cold and snowy and gray. No hint of the sun peeked its way through the cold coverage. No ray of light winked down at them to offer any kind of taste of warmth. Eventually the dull gray faded into a darker gray, signaling the approaching night.
"Lass," the quite word shot through the silence like a whip at her back, jolting her back into keen awareness. Brynjolf's voice was tense, forcing himself to speak through his teeth. He hated to break the silence first.
Raven glanced over her right shoulder to acknowledge she'd heard him. His mouth opened but then quickly shut, as if he'd thought better of whatever it was he had been going to say.
"We're here," Brynjolf stated, his eyes looking past her.
Snow had begun to fall from the gray sky above them. The snowflakes fluttered in tiny swirls all around as the soft wind carried them to their multiple destinations. It wouldn't be long before one of the guards with a team of horses came with a specially designed cart to clear off the small mountains and valleys of white which covered the road to the city.
For the time of year, the weather was mild. A small blessing from the gods.
Raven gave a small nod in response to Brynjolf's statement, words failing to rise from her dry throat.
Windhelm loomed above them like a stone beast of a mountain as they followed the road under its shadow. It was one of Skyrim's largest cities. Though why they had decided to build it in the gods-forsaken land of the North, Raven would never understand.
Lore claimed Ysgramor built it in honor of one of his sons. Or was it his only son?
Raven shook her head at the thought. As if any of that really mattered. Nordic history had been pounded into her from a young age. As she'd grown and branched out to learn about her mother's linage, she'd resented the Nord in her and what it represented.
With a swift dismount, Raven handed over the reins to Shadowmere to the young stable boy. His eyes widened as he took in the large, black beast with fiery eyes. She tossed him a few coins.
"There's more where that came from if you bring our belongings to the Candlehearth Hall," Raven said.
The boy nodded, his bright brown eyes so wide they appeared to fill half his face; the other half was his mouth hanging open in awe.
Without a look back, Raven set off. Brynjolf matched her quick pace across the long bridge leading into the city. The sooner she met with the High King, the sooner she would be away from him.
"State your business," a guard called out when the two were close enough.
"I've business with the High King and no others," Raven said with just enough bite and authority to ward off any questioning. Reaching into one of the folds of her armor, Raven withdrew the summoning from the King. It was the shorter of the two. One giving her clearance, the other explaining what would happen should she try to ignore the summons. Again.
"Forgive me," the guard handed the tattered letter with the High King's seal back to her with a shaking hand. "I- I did not realizeā¦" he motioned to another guard to open the gate.
Raven didn't bother to reassure him. In the beginning, she'd tried to play nice, to smile and tell them she wasn't as mean as the King claimed. But why pretend? The High King may make up his own version of her, but it didn't mean the real version was any better.
It wasn't as if she wanted to make friends with the guards. She just tired of seeing the fear in their eyes and hearing the whispers following her around like spiders in the dark corners of every room she entered.
Once they'd cleared the gate, it closed behind them with a resounding thud. The High King never allowed the gate to remain open after dark. He'd won his civil war but Skyrim was no safer for it. How could it be? Not just Nords called this land home as much as Ulfric Stormcloak wanted to believe.
"Wait for me at the inn," Raven instructed. She tossed her coin pouch to Brynjolf who caught it out of reflex. "I won't be long."
And she wouldn't be. All she was here to do was check in, take her orders, and the little money Ulfric was willing to part with.
Never let a High King in on your secrets; they rarely parted with any precious gold afterwards. Instead they paid in borrowed time.
Brynjolf nodded, his eyes not meeting hers. No doubt the words he had been going to say earlier were still stewing in his mind.
What had he been about to say? What thought had entered his mind important enough to break the mutinous silence between them?
The questions nagged at Raven until she reached the Palace of the Kings. The sight of the towering doors before her overshadowed any other concern she may have. Right now only one thing mattered: survival. Surviving the next few moments. Surviving the High King.
Raven threw back her hood, revealing her face to the guards.
No questions were asked before these doors opened. The guards knew her. The fear in their eyes confirmed this.
The palace, as it was called, was glorious. No other word could describe it. Within large hearths, warm fires raged all around, keeping the cold northern snow at bay. The furnishings were grand and elaborately carved, filling the expansive room. Thick tapestries hung from the walls depicting battle scenes of grandeur. Nordic heroes raised bloody axes into the air, moments away from striking down their foes. Raven could almost hear the battle cries rising around her.
"My Thane," his voice slithered through the great hall and wrapped around her in a cold, iron grip. "Come, come."
Stealing herself with a deep inhale of warm air, Raven approached the High King.
"Bring 'er here, lass!" Brynjolf shouted above the boisterous crowd as he flagged down the serving girl. He slurred his words, speaking with a thick tongue. "Ye're a pretty sight for sore eyes."
The girl giggled at his wink. Leaning over to fill up his mug, she batted her eyelashes his way.
"What's a sweet lass like you working at a hole like this?" Brynjolf smiled up at the blond Nord. She was young. Almost too young. She really shouldn't be here. She looked too pure.
"Waiting to meet a strong man like yourself," she smiled at him and squeezed his bicep.
It was too easy. Brynjolf preferred a challenge. But the only other option was the man serving behind the bar with a scowl on his face. It was doubtful men shared any secrets with him.
"Tell me," Brynjolf grabbed the lass's arm and pulled her into his lap. She smacked his arm with another high-pitched giggle but didn't protest even as the pitcher of ale sloshed about in her hand. "How long have ye been waitin'?"
"Oh you're a feign!"
"Rightly so!" It was the only true thing Brynjolf would say to the girl all evening.
The Palace of Kings was a dark labyrinth of hallways filled with closed doors. Since the end of the war, Ulfric had doubled the number of guards roaming the corridors. He claimed it was a show of power, but Raven knew better. He'd won the war but not the hearts of the people.
It'd taken longer than she'd thought it would to hear out his orders and repeat them back. She'd received the proper papers of passage and just enough coin to board the ship. The high King claimed she'd be compensated when the job was complete. No arguments.
Raven stole through the quiet palace, avoiding guards, intent on making it out one of the many windows without being seen. For the Guild Master, it was a piece of cake. A piece of sweet roll. Or a piece of apple pie. Gods she was hungry.
With a quick glance around, Raven slipped out the window and closed it behind her. A soft click as the latch slid back into place was the only sound in the deep night around her.
Raven entered the inn with a swirl of snow on her heels. The main floor was empty but for a serving girl wiping down tables. She glanced up at Raven with a dazed look in her eyes.
"Kitchen's closed," she called out in a voice just a notch too high for the sleeping inn.
Ignoring her, Raven made her way around the stone hearth built in the center of the hall to the far, dark corner where Brynjolf waited. A bowl of stew and a cup of ale greeted her while the thief glared at her with a cold stare.
"Report," Raven demanded after several bites of the now cold meal.
"Nothing ye don't already know, Guild Master," he sneered the title at her. His bulky arms were crossed over his wide chest. The red of his hair was enhanced by the light of the fire behind her.
Brynjolf never allowed his back to face an open area. It unsettled him. Raven understood this. She herself had the habit.
Except when she was with Brynjolf.
How long had it been since the two of them had gone on a job like this? How long had it been since she trusted the Nord with her back?
Too long.
It was an unwelcomed thought. Distracting herself with a gulp of ale to force down the stew, Raven struggled to bury the thought deep into a dark corner of her mind.
"I've received my orders," Raven replied in a cool tone. "We're to leave at dawn aboard The North Wind."
Brynjolf snorted as if it amused him.
Ignoring him, Raven continued. "Once we are at a sea, I'll fill you in on the specifics. Until then, get some rest."
She rose and turned from him before he could protest. There was much to do before they set sail. Raven would need to see to the horses and their belongings. She'd also need to speak to the Captain, size him up. The High King had chosen the ship and Captain personally. Any man the king trusted, she didn't.
Even more so now, Raven needed Brynjolf at her side.
I am so, so, SO very sorry! Life happened. And then kept happening. And it's still happening. But I've missed writing. I really am going to try and keep updating. Consistently and often. I promise I won't let another year go by before I update. To any of you out there who've reviewed and to those who didn't give up on me just yet, THANK YOU! Seriously.
Wow. I've really missed writing. Hope you enjoyed!
