Chapter 21

Bo still had unfinished business with the Stormcloaks. He had not given the axe to Jarl Balgruuf and it weighed heavily on his mind. On top of the pressure from both the Greybeards and Ulfric, everyone in Breezehome were treating him differently than before his terrible nightmare, save for maybe Jane; who even then treated him with an increased tenderness.

He did not speak of what had happened that night, Bo didn't want to think about it let alone talk about what was haunting him, but Nazgurat had surprised him. The morning after his break down Nazgurat had approached him after Bo was finally able to get out of bed and leave the room.

"Bo…" he started, his voice gruff, yet it sounded softer than usual. "Bo I am sorry for allowing myself to get… so angry at you." Jane stood nearby, and Lynne joined her, watching quietly as the older Orsimer struggled to speak.

"I know that these are dark days for you, and I don't want to cause anymore strain, especially between us. We are brothers, kin…" Nazgurat looked down at the floor, and Bo stared at him with a mixture of expressions. "Forgive me Bo, seeing you suffer like that…nearly killed me."

"Nazgurat…" Bo whispered, and then the two Orsimer embraced each other, and Bo wept. Jane and Lynne watched them, barely containing their own tears, and were overjoyed to see such a bond between the two. Then the Orcs stood back, and they could see Nazgurat barely contained his own tears. It helped Bo immensely, his kin's words; he was like a father to him.

The rest of the day passed quickly, the men discussed options for what Bo should do regarding his Stormcloak duties, while Jane accompanied Lynne when she went to the alchemical shop to purchase ingredients.

"What is that plant for?" Jane had asked curiously, pointing to a dark looking flower.

"Uh…healing, mostly. I don't use it very often," Lynne lied, knowing that Jane wouldn't know any better, and wouldn't be able to tell a healing ingredient from a poison. Jane easily accepted the lie, and they moved on.

The next day Ahmon and Nazgurat dealt with the other materials they would need for their trip, and Bo finally forced himself to go back to Dragonsreach and present Balgruuf with the axe. He was so nervous his hands were slick with sweat, and he nearly dropped the axe while fumbling with the wooden doors into the palace, cursing himself for letting his emotions get the best of him. With a jolt of realization, he came to into knowledge that the uprising of his emotional side had been steadily increasing since he met Jane, and he felt confused as to whether or not he thought it was a good thing.

His thoughts were interrupted by Irileth calling his name, her face a sullen frown as she tried to get the Orsimer's attention.

"What do you need, Dragonborn?" She repeated, her red eyes narrowing at him.

"Uh, I wish to speak with the Jarl, if that is alright." Bo stuttered. He gripped the axe so tightly his knuckles turned white.

"Bo Gro Graul," Balgruuf called out, nodding at the skittish Orc. He sat on his throne, and had been discussing city business with his steward when Bo arrived. "What can I do for you?"

"Jarl Balgruuf," Bo greeted quickly, bowing his head, "I wish…to offer you this axe. It is a…gift from Ulfric."

Balgruuf studied the axe, his face unreadable. Then there was a flurry of responses, and none of them were very positive.

"He did not!" Balgruuf exclaimed, looking up at Bo with anger in his eyes. "

And much arguing ensued.

Exhausted, and very disappointed with everything that had happened in Dragonsreach, Bo hastily made his way out of the building and nearly ran all the way back to Breezehome; with the cursed axe in hand.

"Take that foolish gift back to your leader," Balgruuf had declared finally, "We will not back down, and we will fight your blasphemous group if we must!"

Bo had felt ashamed, after he had won the Jarl's affection and was even granted title of Thane, it weighed heavily on his heart that the Stormcloaks would undoubtedly crush the kind man. Ulfric, ruthless as he was, wouldn't let Whiterun go so easily.

So with his heart heavy, Bo entered his home, and couldn't suppress a grin though his thoughts were bleak; when Jane bounded down the stairs to greet him.

"You're back," she called, throwing her arms around him. Bo wrapped his arms around her waist and held her close, breathing in her soapy, flowery scent. He sighed, running a hand through her hair.

"But wait…" she noticed the axe he had laid against the wall beside the door, and frowned, looking up at him.

"He did not accept it?"

"No, not at all." Bo replied, burying his face into the crook of her neck and letting out a deep breath.

"So what does that mean?"

"It means…it means the Stormcloaks will wage war on Whiterun."

"Oh."

Jane let go of the Orsimer and stood back, allowing him to remove his boots. She walked over to the cupboard and produced a bowl, spooning a hearty serving of thick, mouth-watering stew for Bo, who hadn't eaten all day.

"Mmm." Bo sat down at the bench and accepted the bowl from Jane's pale hands, his own green toned and rough hands covering hers completely when he took the bowl from her.

"So…" Jane started, sitting down beside Bo and turning slightly so she faced him. She leaned one arm against the table and tucked a fallen strand of his soft brown hair behind his pointed ear, stroking it gently. Bo growled softly, enjoying her touch, while wolfing down his stew.

"So," he replied in between mouthfuls.

"Do you have any ideas yet?"

"No, I don't have a clue." Bo made to stand up and get himself a second serving when Jane quickly took his bowl out from his grasp and served him instead.

"We'll think of something," she replied confidently, placing the stew in front of him.

"I don't know…"

"Bo! You're back." Ahmon's footsteps thumped down the stairs as he came over to the couple, gently slapping Bo's back.

"Ahmon," Bo grunted, smiling at the happy Nord.

"I think I can offer a solution, friend." Ahmon sat him self on the other side of Bo, rubbing his hands together enthusiastically.

"Oh?"

"Indeed. You see…it's about time I did something for this country besides delivering potatoes and leeks. How about you let me take the axe back to Windhelm? It's just an axe, after all, and Ulfric will understand when I explain your…situation. The urgency is clear."

Bo mulled over Ahmon's words, slowly chewing on a chunk of beef while he processed all that had been spoken.

"I…" Bo replied after a while. "I don't see any harm. He only needs to be shown the axe, and he will know how to move next."

"Are you sure Ahmon?" Jane asked, looking over at the excited Nord. "You would not be going to High Hrothgar with us."

"I thought about it a lot, and I think that's what I would like to do. It's a push in the right direction, and I'll ask to prove my worth once I'm there. I can even keep you informed when you're off saving the world." Ahmon chuckled, playfully elbowing the Orsimer's arm.

"If you really want to, then I am eternally grateful Ahmon." Bo looked over at his young friend, and truly appreciated all that Ahmon was willing to do. The young Nord nodded, clapping Bo on the shoulder, and then excused him self; and left Breezehome. He sought out the sweetheart he had seen the night he had arrived in Whiterun with his companions, and for one last time he reveled in her warmth and comfort; happy to be spending his last night with her.