Sansa Stark had never been one to be brave as it were. None of the maidens in her stories were brave, but when she opened the door to her room, she felt brave. Her rooms looked much like they had before, except for a few shredded pillows that used to be whole. She looked at the figure reclining on the windowsill, its tail flopping rhythmically against the wall. It held the helmet from its armor in its hands, rolling it over and over. It actually seemed to be upset, mourning almost.
Strangest of all, it was singing.
"Dragonborn, Dragonborn
By her honor is sworn
To keep evil forever at bay
And the fiercest foes route
When they hear triumph's shout
Dragonborn, for your blessing we pray"
"Is that your god?" Sansa asked, immediately wishing she could stuff the words back into her mouth. The cat creature quieted, staring at the helmet. Sansa was just about to say something when it spoke.
Its voice was nothing like she had expected. It was smooth, sad almost. Definitely female. Nothing like the proud voice it had used in the throne room. "No little one, the Dragonborn is no god. The Dragonborn walks among the races of Nirn, bringing victory to those he meets. The Dragonborn is a great warrior, fearless in battle and wielder of the Thu'um. There is no foe he cannot best, no treasure he cannot claim. I have the misfortune to be the Dragonborn." She turned her head, and Sansa saw her eyes flash in the dark. "You may call me Kirah."
Sansa fumbled for some response. "S-Sansa. Sansa of House Stark."
Kirah stepped off of the windowsill, landing lightly on her feet. She tossed her helmet on the table, letting it rest against her swords and bow. The majority of her armor was piled in a chair, only her under-tunic and breaches remained. She smiled, barring fangs as sharp as knives. "Well, Sansa of House Stark, how about we get comfortable, and you can tell me everything I want to know." Sansa watched her stalk over to the hearth, stack wood up, and then she shrieked when Kirah's palm leapt with fire. Kirah's ears pinned back, and she glared at the girl. "It will not hurt you, I thought you might be cold." She let the spell jump from her palm to the wood, and soon a fire was crackling merrily.
Sansa tried to regain her breath. "What was that?"
Kirah dusted some soot off of her paws. "Magic, but this one would hazard that you have never seen such before." Kirah settled herself down on an intact pillow, gesturing for Sansa to join her. Sansa did, sitting across from the Khajiit. As she did, her sleeve brushed p her arm, revealing mottled black and blue bruises. Kirah hissed at that. Sansa gave a whimper as her arm was suddenly caught in the other's vice-like grip. "Who did this to you?"
Sansa scrambled for a lie. "I fell, onto a chair."
A snort. "This one knows falling, this is not falling. The truth, if you would."
"The king," Sansa spoke in a whisper, unwilling to speak that horrible boy's name. "He has the Kingsguard beat me. My brother is against him in a war, and he punishes me for his victories."
Kirah blinked, once, then twice. Things were more desperate than she imagined. She drew in a breath, tapping into the magic that was just beyond her mind. She let it flow through, wrapping her hand in golden light that laughingly went from her to Sansa. The patient felt the warm glow, and she felt like she had just eaten a warm bowl of soup as the warmth moved throughout her body, healing bruises and scrapes and cuts. The light faded, and Sansa for once could say she felt good. She examined her healed arm, surprise in her voice. "Was that more magic?"
A nod. "A healing spell." Kirah sounded winded for a moment. "It cannot fix broken bones, but it can heal what you had."
Sansa looked over at this, this creature that was to be her 'pet'. "Thank you."
Kirah bared her fangs in another smile. "It was noting, kit." Her paw reached over to a table, bringing back a bottle of wine, shortly followed by two cups, a black of cheese and some grapes. "Now, tell me everything you know."
