Chapter Six: Speaking Freely
Stormcloak Camp: The Reach, 2 Morning Star
Dusk was settling over the mountain as the Stormcloak soldiers divvied up the loot they had found at the site of the ambush earlier that day. The plan had been executed nearly to perfection, and already a courier was being readied to take the news back to Windhelm. The Dragonborn watched the men and women from her vantage near the cliff. It wasn't as if she were trying to be antisocial. Up until recently, Miri had mostly worked or traveled on her own. Military life was unfamiliar, and she needed to get her bearings in order to avoid a misstep in protocol if she were to earn the respect of the soldiers as she rose through their ranks.
Miri ran a hand down the coat of her mount, smoothing the hair and giving Frost a good scratch. He'd proven to be as amazing as Bryn had promised he would be, and hadn't once balked or shied even when surrounded by enemies or faced down by a dragon. His wounds had healed from their last encounter with one of the beasts as well as her own had, and the stallion's skin shivered as she rested her palm over the scars. Beside them, Vigilance raised his head, alerting them to the footsteps she heard in the moments following the war-hound's observation.
"You paint a fine picture," Ralof said as he approached, holding out a meaty bone for the dog and a bottle of mead for Miri. She gave him a genuine smile as Vigilance tore into his treat, and took a swig from the glass before passing it back.
"Filthy and smelling like horse? You need to get out more, Ralof," she teased.
"I won't deny you that," came his easy reply. "But a man can't help notice that a woman, bloodied from battle, steed and hound at her side, is a beautiful sight. A friend, however..." Ralof paused to drink, then handed it off again. "He might notice something else."
"And what might that be?"
"That you are tired. Of being the Dragonborn. Of being the Hero, the Savior."
Stunned, Miri stared at him, the bottle inches from her lips as she held it still. He was right. And he hadn't been the only one to make the observation. Farkas had said as much when she stopped through Whiterun on their way to the Reach. He had accompanied her to Markarth, but Miri had asked him to stay home while she finished the war for Ulfric.
"Shit," she muttered, taking a long drink of the smooth liquor. For Ulfric. But both Ralof and Farkas had been correct. She was ready to be done with it all. "I didn't come to Skyrim for all of this," confessed Miri. "But apparently the Gods had other plans."
"They often do. But tell me, if they hadn't interfered, and you had accomplished what you set out to do, where would you be now?"
It gave Miri a hard moment of pause. She'd never considered what would happen following the plans that had brought her to the Northern country in the first place. Would she still have joined the Stormcloaks? Returned to Cyrodill and rebuilt the home she had left behind? Become a hermit and live off the land? Or perhaps join Brynjolf in Riften?
The last thought brought a faint smile to her face and a light in her eyes. It had been good to see her old friend and lover again. Someone from her old life she could be sure to turn to if she ever needed him. Miri had enjoyed having that connection again, with the old flames of their affairs banked into a comfortable friendship.
"A true smile. There's a rare sight," observed Ralof.
"I ran into an old friend a few weeks ago."
"Mm-hmm. A friend."
Miri punched him lightly on the arm, then pulled at the bottle one more time.
"A friend, yes. Anything more is ancient history, and well behind us. He's the one who gave me Frost, actually."
"A fine horse for a fine woman. Not a gift to be given lightly. But you didn't answer my question."
"Because I don't have an answer."
"Fair enough."
They stood in silence, taking turns with the mead and watching the light fade from the sky. How far they had come from that day in Helgen as prisoners of the Empire, facing the executioner's block. Ralof had taken her under his wing, given her food, shelter and clothing when Miri was certain she had nothing. He was her first friend in Skyrim, and had pointed her in the direction of the life she now led. Dragonborn or no, she was certain things would have taken a different turn had she chosen to follow the Legionnaire out of the burning town instead of Ralof.
"I never wanted to do this," she finally said, sweeping a hand out to showcase the cook-fires dotted throughout the camp, the faces of Stormcloak soldiers peering into the flames. "Lead people. Have them look up to me. Depend on me."
"What did you want to do?" He couldn't see her very well in the dim light, but Miri knew that Ralof was watching as he waited for a response.
"What I had been doing up until Fate stepped in. Ranging. Hunting. I lived near my family, but it was a mostly solitary life once I was old enough to care for myself. I didn't want the burden of responsibility that they insisted I bear, and so I kept myself away as much as possible."
"I've seen you with the bow," was his quiet comment. "Wondered why you chose to wield a different weapon."
"I had to leave that life behind. But I miss it. Every day."
Ralof took a long pull at the mead, but when he tried to pass it back to Miri, she declined. Her head was already foggy with memories, suppressed emotions hovering just under the surface of her thoughts. He shrugged, then finished off the bottle in two quick gulps.
"It will be a few days before we hear back from Jarl Ulfric," he finally said, giving the horse a friendly pat and following her gaze across the horizon to the east. "Maybe we can take some time to catch some game while we wait."
Miri surprised both herself and Ralof by leaning over and giving him a chaste peck on the cheek. "I'd like that," was all she said. And the simple truth of it warmed her heart.
.oOo.
Windhelm, 10 Morning Star
The sounds of his footfalls echoed through the empty rooms of Hjerim as Ulfric inspected the home. Jorleif had employed a small army of servants to clean it up after the Dragonborn had left for the Hjaalmarch camp. She had spent the better part of her most recent visit tracking down the murderer who had been terrorizing the citizens of his city, a task Miri had taken upon herself without Ulfric having ever brought it up around her. She then further surprised him by purchasing the abandoned home outright when his Steward offered it to her.
It was a fine house, he decided, now that the remains of the man and his derangement had been cleared. It would suit her well. Plenty of room for an armory, and a bedroom that would rival her quarters in his palace.
He winced inwardly at his final thought. Ulfric didn't want her to leave. True, she was no more than a five minute walk away from his doorstep, but he had grown accustomed to having Miri as a semi-permanent house guest. It was foolish to think that she had bought the house as a means of distancing herself. She had a tendency to collect a lot of … things … on her travels, and though she owned a house in Whiterun, Miri had admitted that it wasn't really her home.
But she had chosen Hjerim as her own. A place to call home in Windhelm, though Ulfric knew that Miri had been offered, and refused, property and rank in other Holds. It was a good sign. A good start. The house would more than fit her station as his Thane, as the Dragonborn, and eventually, as his betrothed. And inspecting it had proven to be a pleasant distraction from the weight of war.
A few sparse furnishings had already been put in place, shelving and storage that he had insisted upon for her belongings that would be moved from the palace. She had paid Jorleif extra to decorate the house, but if he had known beforehand that Miri was planning to purchase Hjerim, Ulfric would have insisted that she take what she needed from him. Gods knew there was more than enough to spare in the palace.
"Hmm," he pondered, stroking his beard while an idea came to him.
"What is it, my Jarl?" the steward queried, coming up the stairs behind Ulfric with his parchment and quill. The man was efficiently taking inventory of all the house would be needing, and the Stormcloak leader held a hand out for the list. His blue eyes skimmed it, making a mental note of what was already on it, and what he thought needed to be added.
"See what we have to spare from the palace for these," Ulfric replied, handing the paper back to Jorleif.
"As you wish. Anything else?"
"Send for a tailor to expand her wardrobe. Dressing gowns, hunting gear, daily wear and the like. You should know her tastes by now." Absently, he brushed a hand over the fur trim of his overcoat, and added, "A cloak."
"It will be done."
"Stop being such a boot-licker, Jorleif," he scoffed. "There's nobody else about."
"My apologies, Ulfric," said his friend with a sigh. "Habits. There's plenty of room here for both an enchanter's table and an alchemy lab. I can check with Wuunferth to see what supplies she might need."
"Good idea."
"Thank you. And since we're speaking freely..." The Steward paused, shuffling nervously with his hands behind his back.
"We are. If you have something to say, I'd like to hear it."
"The girl. Miri. You intend to marry her, correct?" Ulfric nodded slowly. "She doesn't strike me as one who would readily agree just because you wear an Amulet of Mara for her. You'll have to woo her. Court her. Wedding her will take much more work than bedding her."
"That's proven to be a challenge in and of itself," the Jarl confessed, leaning against the window and staring out into the city.
"And yet there hasn't been a single woman in your chamber since the night she walked through the Palace doors." Jorleif was correct. Ulfric had been faithfully determined to have Miri and no other. Need, when the occasion arose, was taken care of.
"I've never courted a woman before."
"Then might I make a suggestion?" Ulfric shrugged at the Steward's question. He wouldn't admit it, but any help would be welcome. "There's an orphan girl. She sells flowers in the courtyard..."
A/N: Short & sweet, but a little ahead of schedule considering how much I have on my plate. As most of you can probably tell, I'm writing this with an AU Thieves Guild. We'll be seeing more of Brynjolf & Co. later down the road. There will be plenty of plot twisting and tweaking, and the party is definitely not over when the Civil War comes to an end! Thanks for all of the amazing responses I've been getting. Stay tuned! I'll have a new chapter up in a few weeks.
