Forging the Heart's Desire
Chapter 10
Where Alyssa thought she would be having the battle of her life, she was instead dying of boredom, sitting at the head of a large stone table as she listened to opposing men squabble about who got what and why they deserved it. The meeting was going swell. Her head in her hand, the Dragonborn huffed in agitation. There was nothing more frustrating than a bunch of grown men acting like babes fighting over a shiny toy.
But this was no toy. Skyrim's fate could be doomed by such incapable hands if this was the best the Empire had to offer. General Tullius was a brute with something to prove, and had little love for the country. Still, Alyssa Wulfe infinitely preferred the Empire to the Rebels of Windhelm. Ulfric Stormcloak was everything she had imagined him to be and worse; conceited, domineering and prejudiced. The so-called High King couldn't get over the fact that not only was the Dragonborn not a Nord, but a woman!
'Gods, let's just get this over with.' Alyssa thought, exasperated. She wanted to get this horrible meeting over so Balgruuf the Greater would allow her to use the Jarl's keep to lure and trap a dragon in order to get to Alduin's fortress. When Esbern had first told her the plan, she laughed. Out loud. He hadn't taken that well.
When it was proposed to the Jarl of Whiterun, she was sure he would have laughed, too. Instead, Balgruuf insisted that the Dragonborn stop the war temporarily so he wouldn't have to fear an under-handed attack from either side. So a meeting had to be held on the neutral ground of High Hrothgar so that a truce could be made. The Greybeard's were notified and the Breton sent to invite the heads of the fighting factions.
Whiterun's Jarl had been dancing the middle line of the civil war, not taking either side. Alyssa could somewhat respect that; she had no intention of joining in this infernal war- of course, she might damn well join Tullius's crusade if Ulfric didn't stop looking at her like that! She was tempted to give him a very rude hand gesture, but Sondhesa had taught her better than that. The Dragonborn could only imagine Ulfric's reaction if he knew she'd been raised by a Dark Elf.
Everyone seemed to hold her opinion in high regard, for whatever reason. Even Stormcloak asked her opinion. (No doubt trying to win her favor in the hopes of her joining his cause- ha!) She had never had to delegate before, but felt confident in her choices for the negotiations:
The Empire would receive Riften in exchange for the Stormcloaks getting Markarth. Also, the Rebels would pay restitution for a massacre on a dormant Legion posting. After more bickering and some interceding from Esbern, the terms were agreed upon. Alyssa couldn't have been happier to have it done and over with; in fact, the only thing that was more satisfying was when she was given the privilege of booting that Thalmor bitch Elenwen out into the cold at the beginning of the meeting. Galmor Stone-Fist and his precious high king had enjoyed that. Gods, why couldn't any of these fools stop fighting each other and see that Elenwen and her little flock of lackeys were the real threat? Alduin withstanding. Alyssa rubbed her eyes, irritated.
Ugh, she needed to get out of there.
Now all that was left was to head to Whiterun. Esbern pulled the Dragonborn aside as the others began to disperse. He told her of a dragon that could be called, Ohdahviing. She must prepare herself for the final showdown with Alduin the World-Eater, then leave for Dragonsreach.
"Dragonborn. I have no doubt you understand the seriousness of the battle you will face. That being said, I caution you not to rush into this. It is important that you… get affairs in order. Say your goodbyes, make peace with those that you must, and… take some time to enjoy yourself."
Alyssa was incredulous. It all seemed so real now. There was a good chance she wasn't coming back from where she was headed. Balimund immediately came to her mind. There was only one way she wanted to spend her last days, and that was with him. Still…
"And what of the souls that are lost in my absence? If I delay, won't I be condemning them?"
Esbern must have anticipated her, for he was ready with his answer. "Better to have lost a few souls and for you to come out triumphant, than to send you unready and risk all of Nirn."
The Dragonborn considered this, then nodded. It was true, as twisted as it was. Before she left for Whiterun, she wanted to be with Balimund. And it was time that she came clean with him. He deserved to know who she was. Who she really was. It may come as a shock to the Nord, but if she never returned, he would know it wasn't because she had deserted him.
She turned to leave, when Delphine called out to her. "Dragonborn. We need to discuss Paarthurnax."
The smith and his apprentice were toiling away at the forge, much like they had before the appearance of the Breton woman. Asbjorn wiped his brow and carefully set aside the new armor. "How goes it, Balimund? Finished the blade yet?"
The Forge Master didn't seem to hear him. He was at the work bench, almost secretive in his ministrations. Curious, the apprentice came around to see Balimund's progress on- a ring? Asbjorn hadn't known him to bother with jewelry before. Items that bashed and crushed and sliced and pulverized, absolutely. But tiny, intricate adornments? Never before. After all, if people in Riften wanted jewelry, they went to Madesi.
"Balimund?" Asbjorn addressed him a little louder.
The smith's head whipped up. "Oh, ah… what do you need, Asbjorn?"
"What is that you're working on?" The apprentice leaned forward, attempting to get a better look at the silver band. He saw a flash of diamond before Balimund secured it out of sight. He looked up at his master, more curious than ever. "May I see it?"
"It's not done."
"Who's it for?" It had been an innocent question, but it didn't keep Balimund from looking away sheepishly. When he didn't answer, the Fire-Tamer's confusion grew. He laughed a little. "What is the big deal? If you're afraid it doesn't look right, I won't judge you for it. I've never seen you make rings. I'm sure it looks fine. If not, maybe we can figure it out together?"
Balimund shook his head and sighed. "I just… I have to do this on my own."
Asbjorn looked incredulous. "What on Nirn for? You're acting as if-" Whatever the apprentice was about to say died on his lips as a new idea came to him. His eyebrows flew up.
Balimund looked uncomfortable as The Fire-Tamer's eyes searched him for some sort of clue. A smile slowly appeared on Asbjorn's face, realization hitting him. The smith knew he'd been found out.
"Balimund… is that some sort of Band of Matrimony?"
Resigned, Balimund pulled the ring back into view. He held it up for Asbjorn to inspect, who took it carefully. The band was made of silver as he had suspected. It was delicate and small, with a flawless diamond resting within the band. It was fairly well done. The smith rubbed the back of his head anxiously.
"… In High Rock, a ring is given before the wedding takes place. It is given as a token and as a declaration." Balimund looked squarely at Asbjorn, waiting for some joke or for him to laugh at him. Instead, the apprentice smiled warmly at his master, clapping him on the back. "She'll love it, Balimund. Congratulations!"
"You don't think I am insane? That it is far too soon to be giving her something like this?"
Asbjorn finally did laugh. "If that night all those weeks ago stood for anything, it was only a matter of time." The smith sighed at being reminded of the night he still couldn't quite remember where he had apparently carried a maniacally giggling Alyssa to the altar. Thank the Gods for the priest's good sense to deny them.
Growing serious, the apprentice handed the ring back. "Any word from her?" The smith was about to answer when a Stormcloak soldier interrupted them.
"Balimund of the Scorched Hammer? The High King Ulfric Stormcloak is in need of your services." The soldier motioned them inside. The two men exchanged glances before following, Balimund pocketing the ring.
The Stormcloak courier wasted no time in relaying his message to the smith. "King Ulfric has requested that you depart for Solitude in time for the King Olaf Festival." Here the soldier handed Balimund a letter with the details. He read as the Nord continued on. "He wishes for you to observe General Tullius and Jarl Elisif the Fair at the festival. You are not to engage them, merely watch and report."
"What does he hope to gain from this?" Asbjorn asked, his brows furrowed.
The courier shrugged. "He did not say, but did say that your efforts will be rewarded. He is also paying for your carriage and room at the local inn." Here he handed Balimund a sack of gold. "By the way, he sends a warning: the Imperials have gained this hold. Be on your guard." Both men exclaimed. "What? How?"
"It seems that a temporary truce has been issued by the Dragonborn in order to stop Alduin. Not sure how that is supposed to help, but negotiations resulted in an exchange of holds. The Imperials are hot on my feet as we speak. I must go before they learn I am not a guard here."
He saluted, then left. The two men exchanged looks again. As much as a relief it was to know that the war was on hold, having the enemy in their city was dangerous. Still, if it helped the Dragonborn stop the World-Eater…
Balimund read the letter a second time, then laid it and the gold on the table, eyeing both warily. It all couldn't have come at a worst time. The festival was in four days. He had hoped to take Alyssa somewhere pleasant and present her with the ring. She had yet to return and with this new order, he may not get to see her for some time.
Both men exited solemnly. Balimund looked up to see if the courier had been right about the quick arrival of Legion soldiers. Instead, he was gifted with the sight of a familiar and well-missed Breton standing ten feet away.
Alyssa smiled at the sight of the sooty, handsome Nord. Mara, she had missed him. She dropped her heavy pack and rushed towards him eagerly, any etiquette forgotten.
He picked her up off the ground, hugging her tightly. He buried his face into her neck, inhaling deeply. Vanilla icing and lilacs. "Gods, I have missed you." He pulled back and kissed her tenderly. What he wouldn't give to be able to stop time at this exact moment. No war, no dragons. Just the two of them together.
Separating for air, the Nord set Alyssa back on the ground, but refused to let her go. She smiled up at him before addressing the apprentice. "Hello, Asbjorn."
The Fire-Tamer was not going to cry, no matter how much the soot in his eye was bothering him. He hurriedly rubbed at the offending eye and quietly returned the greeting. "Hello, Alyssa. Glad to see you're back in one piece. Svana's been worried about you. I'll fetch her; she'll want to see you for herself." Asbjorn left, getting a little choked up from… the fumes.
"Everything go alright?"
She turned back to answer Balimund. In truth, it had been a nightmare. Not only was she expected to take on Alduin, but the Blades had asked her to murder Paarthurnax! They called it 'justice', but the ancient dragon had been nothing but kind to her, and helped Alyssa not only master a few thu'ums, but also made her feel as much a part of his world as he was in hers. Delphine and Esbern threatened to no longer help her if she refused to 'do the right thing'. To Oblivion with them! The Graybeards sympathized, and commended her for her choice.
"It went as well as it could have." In this moment, none of it mattered. She was home! And Balimund… "… I've missed you, too."
Here the Forge Master gave her another gentle squeeze. He was tempted to hoist her over his shoulder and carry her to the Temple of Mara that very second. He couldn't stand the thought of another minute passing without her being his wife. Life was too short to wait. Still, he wanted to do this right. He had read about Breton marriage customs from a pamphlet one of the priests had supplied him with. He was going to ask her to be his in a way she would understand and enjoy.
Realization dawned on him. The festival! He could take her to the King Olaf burning. He had heard it was a very popular event, with food, wine, and music. She would love it. He would carry out his mission first, then when they could be alone, he would ask her to make him the happiest man on Nirn.
"I know you've probably had your fill of travel, but there is a festival in Solitude I am attending. Would you honor me with your company?" He asked warmly.
Her smile faltered for a split second. "The King Olaf Festival?"
"Aye. If you would like to. I hear it is very entertaining."
Alyssa bit her bottom lip. She knew all about the festival. She had saved it. In fact, they had increased the number of times it was held in a season because of the success of its return. It was also quite conveniently right next to her house. Her other house. One of them.
She really needed to tell Balimund about herself. There was so much he didn't know, it wasn't right. The festival would provide a light and jolly atmosphere; perfect for dropping a thunderbolt in the form of 'I am the Dragonborn'. She forced her smile to return.
"I would love to. When do we leave?"
"We'll leave in two days. We'll arrive the day of the festival. We can tour the city while we wait for the evening's events."
She stood on her toes to give the Nord a long, slow kiss. Neither realized they had shared the same thought in that moment:
It will be perfect.