The Will to Power

by xcaliber234

With his destiny fulfilled, Darion Octavias, The Dragonborn, has spent his days roaming Skyrim. However something is awakening within him. Not a desire for riches or for fame, but for what the Dragons are meant to do. Dominate. But his hunger is great, and there is only one thing that will satisfy it. Following in the footsteps of Tiber Septim, and conquering all of Tamriel.

4. Duty

Chapter 4: Duty

"We are already sealing the gates as best as we can," Hrongar spoke, pointing to the spot on a map of the city. The war council had gathered around a table on the upper level of the palace. The council sat around the table, most of them standing for a view of the map. They included Jarl Balgruuf, his brother Hrongar, Irileth, Caius the commander of the Whiterun Guard and Proventus Avenicci. "We've begun evacuating whatever people live outside the walls, mostly famers and the workers from the meadery."

"How long will it take to get them inside the walls?" Jarl Balgruuf asked.

"I sent some of my men to assist them," Caius spoke. "Evacuations are going slowly, most of the farmers trying to save what crops they can, I can send more down there and get them moving."

"No," the Jarl waved away the idea. "We will need more of that food for when the Stormcloaks arrive."

"I have spoken to other merchants in town" Proventus added. "They have agreed to our levies, and have been promised suitable amounts of compensation for when the siege is over." Caius scoffed at this.

"If we make out alive to pay them," he mumbled spitefully, though everyone ignored him.

"Have we had any word from the Companions yet?" Balgruuf asked, sounding hopeful, only receiving silence from his council.

"Our messengers have all been turned away from Jorrvaskr my lord," Proventus informed him. "They say that they refuse to take part in a fight that is not theirs."

"Do they realise that they will burn with a rest of the city if they do not?" Caius asked.

"No such thing," Hrongar stated. "If the men and women in Ulfric's army dare call themselves true Nords, not one of them will touch the mead hall of the Companions." The council fell silent in that moment. For at least two weeks they had been preparing for the oncoming battle, sending out riders to hire any travelling sell swords they came across, gathering and preserving as much food as they could, preparing the defences and taking stock on armaments. There was little more that could be done.

"Well then," Balgruuf said, sitting back into his chair, his eyes idly scanning over the map, as if missing something. "I suppose all we can do now is wait for the enemy to arrive and pray that the gods are with us."

"What of the Dragonborn? Is there truly no sign of him?" Hrongar asked, receiving only silence as he had many times before when he had asked that same question. "What of his housecarl? Lydia, where is she?" It was Balgruuf that answered this time.

"I have left her in charge of overseeing her own patrol through the city streets. She is to report anything she comes across to Caius' men."

"But she was to represent the Dragonborn on this council," Hrongar argued. "She was to speak for him, giver her knowledge and counsel. Her experience with the Dragonborn could be invaluable!"

"I have already spoken to her," Commander Caius spoke. "And trust me, there is nothing that she can contribute to this council besides serving as another soldier."

"And we are to make that judgement based on your opinion?" Hrongar argued. "You are barely in command of your own men, let alone worthy enough to judge a capable warrior like the Housecarl!" The Jarl rose from his chair, and all went silent. The dark bags under his eyes only added to the stare he gave his brother.

"My decision has been made, Lydia will continue the duty given to her until the Stormcloaks arrive." He began to walk away towards his chambers, Irileth following close behind him. "Maybe then we will see if she is a warrior truly worthy of protecting the Dragonborn." The council fell into silence, their thoughts directed at the Dragonborn. Balgruuf, Irileth and Proventus had all listened to him speak of how he would always be ready to defend the city, how he imagined the looks on the faces of Stormcloak soldiers when they saw the Dragonborn defending the walls of Whiterun. And yet now he was gone, replaced instead by the memory of a man who was nowhere to be seen.

"Jarl Balgruuf!" a cry echoed from the lower levels of the palace. The council turned to find a guardsman, removing his helm as he ran up the stairs, past the table and knelt before the Jarl, who only stopped where he he stood. "My lord, Stormcloak cavalry, less than an hours ride from the outskirts of the city!"

"They must have rode ahead of the army, they'll try to kill off what forces we have remaining outside the walls!" Caius exclaimed. "I will have them return immediately," he said, saluting before beginning to march out of the palace.

"No," Hrongar said, stopping the guard captain. "we still have people still evacuating outside the walls, they'll be slaughtered like cattle if the we pull back the guards!"

"We must look to the greater good of the city, Thane Hrongar," Caius argued. "The fewer men we have defending the walls, the greater our chances of being overrun."

"What was the point of appointing you Captain of the watch if you will not protect the people under your charge?" Irileth questioned. "The men will remain outside the walls, and do their best to speed the evacuations."

"I do not take orders from you, elf, and last time I checked, the only one who could have turned the tide of this battle for us abandoned-"

"Enough!" Balgruuf shouted, silencing the whole of the council, his back still to them. A sling silence drew out over that, the councils waiting on the Jarl's word. "Caius…" he spoke, and the Imperial snapped to attention. "How long would it take to bring your men back into the city?" Most of the other council members sighed at that, shaking their heads, some hating the idea of the Jarl siding with Caius, others thinking about how many innocent lives they were about to lose.

The hearth crackled faintly, it's light sending shadows dancing around the room. Though the fire burned, Lydia could not feel it's warmth, could not feel the heat. Though she sat there, in a wooden chair just opposite the small flame, she did not see it's embers or it's light. All she saw was Darion, and the smile he gave her before riding off to wherever it was he had left for.

'I know you'll make me proud,' he had said. How could she possibly make him proud? She wasn't like him, she was not a hero, she was not Dragonborn. She was Lydia. No title to represent her deeds, nor an ancient and proud clan name from which to draw strength. She was the Housecarl, she was barely mentioned in tales or songs of Darion's triumphs, and even when she was it was only to add the mystery and rumour of romance between her and her Thane. She was no one, and because of that she had been tossed aside by the Jarl's war council, left to patrol the streets like a common guard.

'It's only been two weeks since you've been gone, and already I feel as weak as I was before I met you.' she spoke to herself. Before she had met Darion she had been nothing, a skilled warrior for certain, recognised by the Jarl's own Housecarl. But despite all that she was still nobody, and for the longest of time she had accepted that, and was prepared to die a nobody. And then he came into her life. With his lack of responsibility, short temper, quick wit and his promise of glory. Though he had been unwelcoming at first, even distant at times, he quickly recognised her potential, and the fact that she could be somebody. And for the first time in her life, Lydia had felt like she belonged. Though she would only be recognised as the Housecarl, as the Shield-Maiden of the Dragonborn, as long as she could fight by his side she was happy, as long as she had somewhere and someone to turn to, she was content.

And now all that was gone. She had no idea where he was, whether he was alive or dead, whether he was laying on the beach of some barbary coast, drinking with women or whether he was stranded and calling for help that would never come. Regardless, she had failed. As she sat their, contemplating and thinking her way into a pit of despair and misery, a knock sounded from the door. She did not answer, and the knocking continued until the door began to slowly open. As it did, the light of the late afternoon entered the small abode, casting the man who stood in the doorway in shadow. For a moment Lydia thought it was Darion, but only became sadder when her eyes adjusted to see the tall armoured figure of Leandros.

"So," he said as he entered the house. "The Housecarl Lydia sits in the dark, giving up hope as Whiterun enters it's darkest hour."

"I'm not giving up," Lydia snapped back, but she barely had the anger to make it sound convincing. "I'm accepting reality."

"And what reality is that?"

"The one where I have failed, the one where my Thane is no where to be seen."

"So you are giving up." Leandros stated, sighing and crossing his arms. "You're pathetic." The insult came as a surprise to Lydia, and she looked up at him. "To think that Dragonborn put up with your nonsense all this time. He must be glad to be rid of you."

"How dare you!" Lydia shouted, finding her anger this time as she stood from her seat, causing it to fall back. "You can't just come in here, criticising me for doing nothing! You and your drunken crowd are the ones who refuse to do anything. You're all just sitting there in Jorrvaskr, drinking and brawling when the city needs you, when it's looking to you to help them!" She let herself catch her breath, her eyes glaring daggers at the Harbinger. "I may be weak, but I'm accepting my weakness, whilst you have the power to act and yet you refuse to." he sighed, moving further into the house.

"Did you read the letter that Darion sent you to give me?" he asked.

"Never, it was sealed, and to do so would be a breach of my Thane's trust."

"And has he told you about his plans for Tamriel?" The question came at a great surprise to Lydia.

"He has spoken of it," she said, suddenly going quiet.

"And how do you feel about it? What do you think about his plans for domination?" She remained quiet this time. How did she feel about it? At first his words had been a mixture of ramblings and over excited ideas. He had spoken of it many times during their travels from the Reach, to High Hrothgar and back to Whiterun. He would speak long and endlessly about his dreams and goals. How he intended to bring an end to the racism of Nords like Ulfric or the zealous beliefs of the Thalmor. His dreams sounded great in retrospect, but that was all they were, dreams. He was not of noble birth and held no lands save Breezehome. He had no army, no allies nor any funding for campaigns. The list continued, and with each entry the dream of a united Tamriel became evermore distant.

"I think he had the right idea," Leandros continued. "I think that if history could repeat itself, and a Dragonborn became the one to unite Tamriel, I think that I would follow that man into Oblivion." He looked to Lydia now. "Which was half of the reason he had wrote his letter to me." Lydia looked back at him at hearing that, unsure of what he meant. "The letter he sent spoke of a contract, and a detailed explanation of his plans for Tamriel. He said that whilst he will wait until meeting me to go over his plans, he has paid for the contract of us to defend Whiterun alongside him."

"Then why are you still here?" Lydia asked, "Why refuse the jarl's pleas for aid?"

"Because the contract was written in a way that we may only join the battle at his side, or that of another, namely you."

"Me?" She did not believe a word that he said, and Leandros could tell that. His hand dove into his pocket, pulling out a folded letter that he proceeded to unfold and read.

"And should my absence from Whiterun be noted, the earlier discussed terms of this contract are hereby transferred to my Housecarl Lydia, who will serve as my personal proxy for the battle. You will take your orders from her, and will join the battle only when she does. And above all else," he stopped for a moment, looking at Lydia, smiling at her. "Protect her with your lives. Signed, Darion Octavius, Thane of Whiterun, and Dragonborn." He folded the letter, returning it to his pocket. Lydia continued to sit in silence as a single tear rolled down her cheek. "Now," Leandros continued to speak. "I've received word from amongst the Jarl's men. The Stormcloaks are sending a raiding party. There are still people being evacuated outside the walls, and Jarl is drawing back his soldiers, rather than having them stay and protect the people." He placed a fist over his heart. "My brothers and sisters are at your disposal, Lydia. They gather outside for you as we speak. Should you find yourself free from the shackles of your sorrow, we'll be ready to ride with you into the depths of Oblivion should that day come. And should you need more convincing that those were your Thane's words," he clapped his hands twice, and in walked a tall, muscle bound Nord in steel armour. Lydia knew him to be Farkas, one of Leandros' Shield-Brothers. In his hands he carried a chest, that he slowly placed on the ground in front of her before nodding and walking out silently.

"What is this?" she asked, looking to Leandros.

"From the sounds of it," he said as he began to walk out. "I think it's a gift." And with that he left, closing the door behind him, leaving Lydia staring at the box as if something were to jump out and attack her. She sat that way for at least a few minutes before finally finding the strength to stand up and walk towards it. She ran her hands over the wooden surface and gasped. This was the same chest that she had taken to Eorland the day Darion had left. Slowly she knelt down, her fingers lifting the lid. As light flooded into the box, she saw jagged shapes covered by a grey sheet. On top of the sheet was a piece of parchment, sealed and signed with her name. She reached in, grabbing the parchment before standing again to open and read it. She gasped again as she saw her Thane's handwriting.

Lydia,

If this letter is reaching you then it probably means that I have died, or I'm absent at this time, preferably the latter. If I have died however, there is so much that I wish I could have told you, how I our time fighting side by side has been blessing from the Divines. If I have left you alone in the world I apologise greatly for that, but know that wherever I am, no matter how much you may blame yourself, it is not your fault. If I have passed from this world, Breezehome, all that I own and the contents of this chest belong to you now, they are my gift to you for your tireless dedication and loyalty to me. As much as it pains me not to present it to you in person, I know that you will do great things with it all the same. You are my most trusted and most loyal friend, and I count you as one of the few people in this world that I can truly rely on. My gift to you is the culmination of our travels together, and I would like to think of it as the embodiment of my trust in you. No matter how you use it, I know you will make me proud and you will live your life to it's greatest potential.

Your friend, Darion.

At reaching the end of the letter, Lydia could not help but notice the tear stains that now dotted the parchment. She smiled, holding the letter to her chest, hoping that wherever he was in the world, he could feel her gratitude. Her eyes now moved to the sheet that lay over the other contents of the chest. Slowly her hand made for the sheet. She stopped for a moment, unsure whether to continue, but she swallowed her doubts and snatched the sheet from the chest. When she saw what lay beneath, her mouth fell open.

"Thank you Darion," she said, and for the first time in what felt like forever for her, she smiled.

"Do you think she will come?" Aela asked as she and the other Companions sat around outside the house. "She's taking quite a while."

"Perhaps she will, perhaps she won't. But we will wait here regardless." Leandros said, his arms crossed.

"Why?" Ria asked, who sat beside Athis.

"Because I have faith," Leandros told her. "If she's half the woman I think her to be, she'll do what's right." The Companions were left waiting for a while after he said that, but they did not question their Harbinger. Though his title traditionally made him an advisor for the Companions rather than a leader, the warrior band were ready to follow his every lead and word. Soon they heard the hinges of house creak, and those who sat stood up quickly, all their eyes cast upon the door. At first they her face, her hair that had once flown freely tied back into a pony tail. It was after only after that they saw her armour. She adorned a myriad of chain mail, leather straps and what looked like bone. From her shoulders down, nearly every inch of her body, save for her elbows which remained exposed, were covered in plates ofDragonbone. On her back hung a shield at lest half her size and at least three inches thick. Under her arm she held a terrifying horned helmet, a mixture of steel and bone, with the mouth area covered by a thin leather mask. And strapped to her waist was a sword of matching style, even though it remained it it's scabbard the Compaions could almost sense how sharp it was. Leandros smiled, approaching the woman that stood before him.

"Glad to see Eorland got your measurements right," he said. "Now, what would you have the Companions do?" Lydia looked at the crowd of warrior who stood before her, eagerly awaiting her command. She pondered forShe grabbed her helmet, holding it in both hands before sliding it over her head. The only thing left of the Housecarl were the brown eyes that now burned with confidence from within the helmet.

"Follow me," she said. "It's time we let the Stormcloaks know who they're about to pick a fight with."

"Run!" a man called.

"Where are the guards?" A woman cried.

"Mama! Where are you mama!" A child wailed. All of these shouts, each time a different man woman or child, each time the sight of blue banners, and at least fifty riders getting closer and closer. At least a hundred people, mostly consisting of farmers, many of whom carried their tools with them as weapons, ran for the city and the safety of it's walls. Among them were carts being pulled by the people or the mules, filled with the food and belongings that they brought with them. Some mothers and fathers discarded their carts to pick up their children and run with them in their arms. A young woman tried to hush the babe in her arms that cried out in distress. It didn't matter how fast they ran, it seemed as if the Stormcloaks edged further and further towards them, as if they were trying to outrun the coming of the night by travelling west after the sun.

A young boy, no older than seven, tripped on a rock and fell to the ground with a cry. As he lay there, his hands went for his ankle, tears streaming down his eyes as he noticed the unnatural angle his foot now sat in. A man from the crowd, too young to be his father, ran to the boys aid, scooping him off the ground. As he turned back to the crowd however, all he could hear were the thundering of hooves, and calls of men and women. A line of calvary rode past them, lead by a woman in a magnificent suit of armour. The man could not help but stare at them, and recognise them as the Companions as they rode past. Along with several others from the crowd, the man cheered them as they rode towards the threat, but quickly turned back and ran with the boy.

Lydia held up her hand, signalling the Companions to stop, and the warriors brought their horses to a halt at either side of her, forming a line of beasts and mounted riders. She looked on at the horde approaching them, that roared in excitement at the arrival of a challenge. Many of the Stormcloaks carried shields and spears, others with swords, axes maces and even a few great swords were hefted by the mightier among them. There numbers were far greater, there was no doubt about that, overshadowing the mere nine riders of Whiterun.

"Well we didn't get dressed up for nothing." Torvar, said, receiving a laugh from his brothers and sisters. Leandros, who rode beside Lydia, wearing his bear shaped helmet, looked over to the Housecarl.

"We're ready when you are, Lydia, just give the word." Before she could open up her mouth to reply, the sound of shouting and the stride of another horse approaching caught her attention.

"Housecarl Lydia!" the voice said, and a new rider rode in front of the line of Companions. He was a Whiterun guardsmen, his helm hiding his face. "Housecarl Lydia!" he called again, unable to recognise her from among the throng of mounted warriors. Lydia urged her horse forward, identifying herself. The guardsmen was surprised to see it was the most armoured of all the riders that was the Housecarl. "Housecarl, Commander Caius orders you to bring the Companions back into Whiterun, he says that-"

"You can kindly tell the commander that if I do these people behind us will die," she cut him off. "We'll hold the Stormcloak cavalry for as long as we have to until every man woman and child is safely behind the wall, either the people make it inside, or none of us will." She looked to the guardsman now, her eyes narrowed within her helmet, as if addressing Caius himself. "Ensure that the Commander is made very much aware of that." The guard would have argued, but her stood now before a woman that not only fought alongside the Dragonborn, but also at that moment commanded the respect of some of the greatest warriors in Skyrim.

"Gods preserve you Housecarl," he said, before urging his horse into a gallop as he rode back towards the city. Once he had gone, Leandros urged his horse forward also, standing by her side.

"That ought to give Caius something to think about," he said with a smile. Lydia smiled also, though it dropped quickly as she turned to look to him.

"Are you with me?" she asked. Leandros looked to her now, the cold seriousness of battle that made him the Harbinger etched onto his face.

"To the death." he said. Lydia nodded her thanks before reaching for her sword, drawing it from it's scabbard. It was heavier than she had thought it to be, and she wondered as to how Darion had become so fast in using his own blade. But it was looked just as deadly as it was beautiful, and she had faith in Eorland's craftsmanship. As she drew her blade, she heard the Companions draw their own weapons ranging from swords, axes, great swords and bows. To her side Leandros drew his own blade, a glass sword, it's blade was ruby red whilst it's hilt a dark gold. As he drew it, the blade ignited, and orange flames began to lick at the air surrounding the blade. Lydia almost fell from her horse in fright. But she held herself composed, raising her own sword about her head before pointing towards the enemy.

The Companions started at a walk, then a trot, then broke out into a full gallop towards their foes. Even with their speed picking up, Lydia could feel time around her slow for a second. It was like something out of the great tales, the ones about heroes courageously charging unthinkable odds with dauntless resolve. For a moment she felt excited, proud to take her place among such deeds, but she quickly pushed the thought to the side, there was a fight to be had.

"For Whiterun!" she shouted.

"For Whiterun!" the Companions chorused, sending a chill down her spine. The Stormcloaks drew closer, and closer, Lydia even being able to see the fear on their faces as they realised that they rode to war against the might of Jorrvaskr. As the lines drew nearer, an arrow flew from the Companions line, embedding itself in the head of a Stormcloak mount, who fell to the ground, throwing it's rider, and causing many of it's brethren to panic and trip over his horse. At lest two more arrows found their way into the Stormcloak lines before the two sides clashed. Horses screamed alongside men, swords rang or thudded on shields, and blood soaked into soil.

Lydia had raised her shield barely in time to deflect a spear tip, snapping the weapon in two. Before the Stormcloak had time to realise what had just happened, Lydia lowered her shield, plunging her sword into the man's chest. After that it became a blur of blades and blood. In the space of a few minutes she cut a man's head clean of his body, cut through a man's shield taking his arm and had stabbed half a dozen different soldiers in the chest. In the confusion she turned, her horse, trying to find Leandros, but found herself staring at the other Companions as they fought. It was as if they were the very spirit of combat taken form. Every movement they made, be it with their blade or their footing was made with the utmost precision and skill. She watched as Vilkas, Farkas' brother, leaped from his horse, sending three other men down with him in panicking throng of horses. Even stared down with three different opponents the Companion did not relent. He stepped forward, stabbing one, before raising his shield to stop a blow from another. In one motion he wrenched his sword free of the first man, cutting the throat of a third before moving on to the man whose blow he had blocked.

She continued to watch as Aela, known throughout Whiterun as 'The Huntress,' leaped from her horse, bow in one hand, dagger in the other. She flew through the air as if guided by Kyne, leaping from horse to horse, cutting the throats of their riders as she leaped across the battle filed. When Lydia finally caught sight of Leandros, he was already dismounted, surrounded by half a dozen Stormcloaks. Lydia began hacking her way through, desperate to get to him. He waved his sword above his head, letting the flames erupting from it give off a terrifying display. Whilst the Stormcloaks were too busy thinking about whether to strike or not, Leandros charged from his position, bashing his shield against the skull of one, killing him instantly before turning to slash another across the chest, all the while his sword leaving a blazing trail no matter where it was swung. By the time he ended his swathe of destruction, at least twice the amount of men who had surrounded him prior now laid dead. The Harbinger noticed the Housecarl, fighting her way through the mass of soldiers, and raised his sword in a salute, which Lydia returned in kind.

Soon a horn sounded from amongst the Stormcloaks, and one by one the remaining riders began to break and run from the storm of steel and death that was the Companions. As they ran, Lydia tried to urge her horse forward, but Leandros stepped in front of the beast with his arms raised, stopping it in it's tracks.

"What are you doing?" Lydia protested. "We've almost won this!"

"We've already won," Leandros stated, "Let them return to their master, they're worth more to us alive than dead."

"How could that possibly be true? The more of them we leave alive, the more of them we will be repelling from the walls!" Lydia argued.

"True, but they will return with stories of their defeat, stories of how a handful of riders sent an entire cavalry unit packing." Leandros lowered his arms. "The Stormcloak army will know now that to march on Whiterun, is to march on Jorrvaskr." He looked amongst his brothers and sisters. None of them had died, he thanked the gods for that, but many of them were wounded. Athis had taken a spear to the gut, Torvar was missing his entire left hand and Njada had taken an arrow in knee. They would need to be taken back into the city for healing, and to see whether they could save Torvar's hand. Lydia had followed Leandros' gaze. She had been too caught up in the heat of battle that she had neglected to notice the pain that many of them were in.

"We will return to Whiterun," she ordered. "As slowly as we need to." Leandros bowed his head and made for his horse.

When the Companions returned to Whiterun, the wounded wavering on their saddles, they were met with cheering, shouts of praise and respect, many coming from the evacuees but also many of the guards and soldiers that had seen the battle for themselves. Lydia had taken off her helm, resting it on her saddle as they made their way through the gates of the city, which were quickly sealed when the last of the riders made it through.

"Hail Companions!" one man shouted.

"Divines bless you! cried another.

"Glory to the Housecarl!" others cheered. As the warriors dismounted, the wounded being helped down before being delivered into the arms of various healers, they found themselves almost overwhelmed with the amount of people who gathered in the streets to see them. Receiving pats on the back or more cheers, the Companions lead their horses up the street and into the city. When they reached the end of the Wind District, they left their horses, and began to climb the stairs towards the palace. Before long however, Lydia could see the figures of the Jarl, his retinue, as well as Commander Caius approaching, all of them flanked by soldiers. As they approached, the soldiers made way for the Commander, who marched his way furiously down the stairs ahead of the Jarl. He met Lydia half way, at a small bridge flanked either side by a pool of water. When he stood before the Companions, with Lydia at their head, all went silent in the district below.

"I ordered you to return to the city," he began. "And you have the nerve to march back in here like conquering heroes? You're all nothing but reckless fools, the lot of you!" A few members in the crowd had the courage to boo at the commander, throwing curses and insults at the ageing Imperial.

"Commander I-" Lydia began but was cut off by a raised hand from him.

"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't have you thrown into the dungeons for disloyalty." Silence followed, a long and unsettling silence. As it went on, Lydia simply shrugged, before throwing her armoured fist into the Commander's face. The crowd cheered as the man fell into the water with a loud splash, their cheers made louder by many of the guards.

"Shove your disloyalty up your arse, Commander," Lydia spat. "Unlike you, we just rode out there and saved lives, whilst you were prepared to watch them get run down by those cowards who dare call themselves Nords." Her eyes flicked to the Jarl, who now approached the scene, surprised to see Caius in the water holding a bleeding nose. "Jarl Balgruuf," Lydia said as she knelt to the ground. "I understand that I went against your wishes, but I-"

"You bloody fool," the Jarl said, and a murmur went through the crowd. "You honestly think I care about that?" He moved towards her, placing a hand on her shoulder. "You saved my people, and for that you have my deepest gratitude." he said, bowing his head to her, and a cheer went up from among the crowd. Lydia looked from the crowd, back to the Jarl, meeting his blue eyes. "Darion would be proud of you," he said with a smile.

"Thank you my Lord." she said, standing up with the Jarl, who walked past her to face the crowd.

"Though we have struck a blow against the false king, Ulfric Stormcloak," he began. "We must not forget that the times to come will be harsh ones. We must work together, regardless our names or our heritage, if we are to stand triumphant against this darkness." Many of the crowd murmured in agreement, besides a few members of the Grey-Mane and Battle-Born clans. "From this day, I declare that Lydia, Housecarl to the Dragonborn, will take command of our forces. Her fire and spirit will burn bright in the darkness, and when dawn breaks on Whiterun, it will be her who leads the songs of triumph as we revel in our victory!" A great roar erupted from the crowd, cheering from everyone from the beggars, to the soldiers, all the way to the Companions who stood at the front of the crowd. The Jarl looked once more at Caius, who had only now began to climb out of the pool. "Caius," the Jarl spoke, "Consider your command temporarily suspended," he said plainly, before climbing up the steps towards his palace. Lydia wanted to look to Caius and smile at him for her own pleasure, but a new sound from the crowd stopped her.

"Housecarl! Housecarl! Housecarl!" they chanted. The feeling was nothing like Lydia had ever felt, and she wondered for a moment, if this was the kind of feeling Darion had when he returned from slaying his first dragon. Slowly however, at the insistence of the Companions, the cheer changed, it was not Housecarl they cheered now, but something new, something that the Companions cheered the loudest.

"Dragonhide! Dragonhide! Dragonhide!" Lydia looked to Leandros, who smiled at her, as he lead the cheer from amongst the ranks of the Companions.

'Lydia Dragonhide,' she thought to herself. 'I could get used to that.'

Now I know that I am not the best at writing battle scenes, but hey, that's just a small skirmish, imagine how it will get when the real battle begins.
And before you start on about it I know, I know, I made an arrow in the knee joke, please don't kill me for it! I know that it is annoying, but I promise that it will all make sense soon, this was the easiest way to set up a what I like to think will be a valuable part of the story.
University is about to start for me, literally two days away now, so my upload speed will be greatly reduced, the only reason I put up the first three chapters almost daily was because I had nothing else to do with my time. However be sure to leave me reviews, be they positive or negative, the more of those I see, the more I know people like the story and the more it will make me want to make time to write.

Auf Wiedersehen!

- xcaliber234