TITLE: What is Hidden in Snow

CHAPTER: 4


"The word 'happiness' would lose its meaning if it were not balanced by sadness." -Carl Jung


"Vika take what you need from me. You don't have to hide anything. I know your strength and bravery. You've got nothing to prove to me."

With a long sigh, she removed her helmet and laid her head on Ralof's shoulder. He thought to himself, as he felt her relax, if someone has her hurt her, he will see to it. Even if it's the Jarl himself, he will see to it.

"Vika, look at me," he said gently holding her chin between his fingers and gazing into her eyes. "You don't look yourself. I'm worried about you and if you'll let me, I'll watch out for you."

"Ralof, there's nothing wrong with me that activity and fresh air won't cure. I've been indoors too long. That's all. We have a job to do for the Jarl. Shouldn't we be about it?" She said, straightening herself in the saddle and righting the weapons on her back.

For all her bravado, Ralof saw something more, something behind the eyes, her smile didn't change, and he couldn't let it go. She hadn't been far from his thoughts since Helgen. If she needed him… "Is it possible you're with child?"

"How dare you!" Vika jerked herself out of his reach, her horse responding by sidestepping away.

"I'll say it because we're friends, not out of disrespect."

"Everyone is certainly worried about me. I'm fine. I'm in love! I'm betrothed to Ulfric Stormcloak. I'm happy!"

By the Gods, she is a stubborn woman. "You didn't answer my question, Vika. If you're pregnant with the Jarl's child, you've no business out here fighting with my men and me. Now tell me the truth of it."

"Of course I'm not pregnant. It's ridiculous."

"You're not that naive, Vika. You're his woman. You know it's possible."

"I'm not his woman. You make me sound like a whore," she spat at him. "I'm his betrothed."

The nearby soldiers began to move away.

"This is Skyrim. We both know it often amounts to the same thing," his own anger flared at her stubbornness and a jealousy he didn't dare put a name to.

"Well, not always." The haughty tone in her answer implied her Imperial City upbringing. Replacing a helmet over her red hair Vika turned away. Ralof wasn't ready for that to happen and he grabbed her by the arm.

"Vika? Listen to me!"

"He never touches me! Satisfied?" Then she yanked the reins and turned her horse toward Fort Neugrad.

~o0o~

Ralof held his men behind a large hedgerow of winter scrub and rocks while he assessed the situation at the fort. A frontal attack on the fort was at best a suicide mission. He didn't have enough men for that anyway. As he observed the area from his hiding spot, for the first time he began to question Ulfric's tactics. The Jarl hadn't intended Vika to come with them. So how did he expect a handful of men to take down this fort? Stealth was the only way to enter this stone and timber fortified structure. And no one but the Dovahkiin had those kind of skills.

"There's an underground entrance, I'll slip in," she was saying behind him, as if reading his mind.

Although he found himself happily surprised they were thinking the same thing, he did not intend to allow her to risk her life this way. Ralof slid from his horse. Vika was already securing her armor and weapons.

"Not today," he said firmly, shaking his head. "I'll send a small squad of my men."

"Can they do what I can?" She said, yanking the strap over her chest tight.

He had to admit they couldn't. "Vika, your health..."

"There's nothing wrong with my health. I'm not some delicate mountain flower.

Unexpected emotions flooded through his veins when he realized by sending her alone into that fort might mean her death. No amount of magic could protect her from a whole army of Imperial soldiers. If she didn't come back, what would he say to her father? What would he do if he never saw her again?

"Ralof? Let go of my arms."

Without warning, he yanked on those forearms so hard their armor clanked together. His studded leather made a dull clunk against Nordic armor.

"You be careful in there, Vika. I'm not sure I'd care to live in a world without you in it."

Tempted by the upturned mouth and wide blue eyes. He briefly brought her fingers to his lips, then pushed her away. She stumbled a few steps backwards through the deep snow. Ralof stayed silent and simply gathered her horse's reins.

"We'll wait for the sound of battle and join you in the Keep," he said after a few seconds, without looking at her.

While they waited for her signal, Ralof had a long talk with Talos about her safety and the possibility of her coming out of that fort alive. The men kept their horses quiet and stayed hidden. A strengthening storm insured the safety of their cover. The falling snow shrouded them in a silent world of anxious prayers and regret.

Presently they heard the first screams and the sound of battle. The wind changed direction and now they could smell burning flesh. High on a battlement, Ralof saw the glow of a mage charging up spell, until he fell screaming his hands still locked in the creation of the fire spell. She must of used on of her shouts at him.

The sounds of men attempting to muster soldiers carried across the field. A few made it out the front gate only to be cut down by Ralof's best archers well hidden on the other side of the clearing.

At the right moment, Captain Ralof signaled his men to charge. As they ran toward the entrance, they watched a Fire Atronach clear the battlements of archers. Once inside, they spent the next hour in a sword fight with Imperial troops.

The wooden entrance to the inner bailey yielded to their threats. The screaming and shouting suddenly stopped when an interior wooden door banged open. Ralof's men stared open mouthed at the Dovahkiin standing alone, while blood dripped off the edge of her weapon. Ralof began to run and did not stop until he was standing in front of her.

She was covered in gore and ash. Eyes glazed over, she stood frozen like a statue of some warrior goddess.

"Vika? Vika, it's over." Then he made the mistake of touching her. "The Imperials are dead. Dead! Dead!" She screamed into his face. "Is this what you wanted?"

Ralof signaled his men to secure the fort. Retrieving a skin of water and he tried to make her drink. She fought him until he took her weapons away from her.

"Give those back to me. Do you know who I am?" Her eyes roll backwards and she swayed on her feet.

Ralof caught her in his arms, "Vika, be still. Please." It was when she finally sat down and stopped fighting that he noticed the arrows protruding from her left thigh and her right shoulder. Blood oozed from the arrow shaft in the thigh wound.

Ralof thanked Talos when he saw the arrow hadn't penetrated her neck. The steel arrow had only grazed the skin on her shoulder and lodged in the armor. Finally, the fight went out of her and she didn't protest when he lifted her limp body from the filthy ground.

While his men secured the gate and the secret entrance, Ralof carried Vika inside the fort. He laid her down on a pile of furs next to the blacksmith's shop. He's already steeling himself for what is to come. There is no healer with them. In this condition, she is unable to cast a healing spell on herself. Even if she could, the arrow had bitten deep into her leg muscle. There was no magic in what they would have to do to help her.

After the dead were piled in the deep snow. The weapons collected and packed. Food organized and the entrances locked. One by one, the men joined him in the blacksmith's work area. One of the soldiers brought water and a few clean pieces of linen he'd managed to scrounge. Another sharpened his steel knife, its blade hissed rhythmically across the whetstone.

"Cap'n, found this in a chest. It'll help ease her while we work."

"Thanks Bjorn. Ralof accepted the small bottle of healing potion from the soldier. Help me sit her up."

The big silent man gently lifted Vika from the ground and supported her while Ralof tried to rouse her enough to get her to swallow some of the potion.

"Sweeting? Can you open your eyes for me? I need you to swallow some of this potion. Vika?"

"She's a brave girl, Cap'n. Don't worry. We'll pull her through this. I mixed the potion with some good Nord mead to help dull her mind."

Then she woke long enough to drink the concoction and slipped away again. Bjorn tapped Ralof.

"Now's the time."

Ralof slipped a leather thong between her teeth. The other men held her down while Bjorn examined the arrow. They all knew it was a barbed steel arrow, which meant Bjorn would have to push it through her thigh to cut off the arrowhead. Only then could he remove the shaft. Even a seasoned soldier would scream through this kind of pain. Ralof's stomach clenched at the thought of his dear friend experiencing this level of agony. He shut his mind to the possibility of her being maimed.

Ralof cradled her head in his lap and with one hand under her head to keep it from banging it against the cold stone floor and clasped the hand closest to him. With a nod, Bjorn held her thigh still with one hand and with steady pressure pushed the arrow through and out the back of her leg. The bloody arrow carried a gout of blood and tissue with it.

Vika's eyes flew open and before anyone could stop her, she shot to a sitting position.

"Hold her, damn you!"

Ralof wrapped himself around her and held her to keep her from moving. She screamed against his chest.

"Be still, ástin mín. Hang on to me. Don't let go. Hold on."

After cutting off the arrowhead the big man doused both ends of the shaft with wine. Then in one quick movement, Bjorn pulled the shaft back through her leg.

She screamed again and sank her teeth into Ralof's shoulder. He bit down on his own pain and continued talking to her. "Vika, listen to me. My brave beautiful, girl — I love you — I do — Talos, I love you." Oblivious to those around him, Ralof rocked her and tried to soothe her.

With the help of the other men, Bjorn washed out the wound with wine again and bound the wound with clean linen. He let Vika relax for a moment. She was still clutching Captain Ralof but her breathing had slowed and she had the pain under control. The soldiers nodded to one another, marveling at her courage.

By the time Bjorn finished packing the wound with a thick paste of spider webs and honey, she was conscious again.

"I—I have to get back to Windhelm. Ulfric will wonder…"

"Hush, Lass. You'll not be ruining my good work by moving around. You need to be still for at least the night."

Ralof nodded in agreement. "I'll send a runner back to Windhelm. First thing in the morning, we'll head back." He thought for a moment and changed his mind. "No. I'll tell the runner to have Ulfric send a wagon for you."

After he got Vika settled by the fire, he headed out to walk the perimeter with his lieutenant. The snow had finally stopped and the world was wrapped in a sparkling veil of ice and snow. They watched as Ulfric's banner was hoisted over the fort. Ralof pulled his cloak around himself.

"Captain Ralof, if you'll pardon me saying so. I heard what you said to the Dragonborn. She's a difficult woman not to love, but you don't need that kind of trouble from Ulfric Stormcloak."

"I know, Bjorn. I know. And I'll not seek it. Have no fear of that. Come, let's get inside before the men drink all the ale."


Icelandic: ástin mín Translation: My Love