Chapter twenty one: Mistake
Ellayna wanted to drown in drink. She sat in the most distant table of the Bannered Mare that she could, her back to the fire-pit and ignoring everyone else in the spacious room. She stared into her nearly empty mug of ale, acutely aware that it was only midafternoon and she had already drunk three other mugs. In her mind, she replayed again and again the face Balgruuf wore as he gave Ulfric's axe back to Ellayna. He was a man who chose war and he knew this. Whiterun would be invaded. Ellayna would be forced to help. She would be forced to kill again.
Although she had bathed –at a very high cost which one of the girls here in the Bannered Mare demanded because it took so long to heat water and fill a tub– Ellayna still felt as though she had blood on her. Every time she had to take a life, she numbed a little bit. By the end of Ulfric's plans for her, she wondered if she would have any feeling left.
Someone touched her shoulder before she even knew he was there. It startled her that she had not noticed Farkas earlier and it did nothing to improve her dark mood. It could have been anyone who snuck up on her. She was ashamed she had not been more observant and not sure whether she wanted to see Farkas.
"Do you want to be alone?"
I never want to be alone. Never. I hate being alone. Could Ellayna say that? Probably not. Instead she offered a small, stiff smile. "No."
Farkas sat beside her rather than opposite her and gestured to one of the staff to bring him a drink. He sat there for a moment, looking at the thick hands he had placed on the table. Ellayna said nothing, leaning back in her chair with her chin tucked against her chest. Once the woman had brought Farkas a mug of mead, he cleared his throat quietly. "It's nice seeing you like that."
She understood what he meant. She no longer wore her glass armor, instead now clad in ankle length jade green skirts and a cream blouse. "Did you not like the armor?" She tried to tease him. It came out dry and quiet. She noted what he wore no armor either, just a mousey brown jerkin and dark breeches. The amount of laces on the front of the breeches would make them hard to undo. Immediately, Ellayna mentally scolded herself for that second thought. She and Farkas were no more.
"It's not really you," Farkas looked away instantly. Did he know her? Not now. They had not even known each other long before she left two years ago, but then she had felt like he knew her. He had been her safe place for a while. She no longer had a safe place.
"Why did you come here, Farkas?"
He took a mouthful of mead before he answered. "You should come to Kodlak's funeral."
"I wouldn't be welco–"
"Kodlak would have wanted you there," he interjected quietly, cutting through her weak words easily. He looked for something in the inside of his jerkin, then pulled out a letter, sealed with red wax. "Here."
Ellayna took it wordlessly. She stared at it, contemplating whether to break the seal.
"Kodlak said that there is a time and a place for that letter," Farkas admitted. "I don't know what he meant."
"I think I do." Kodlak was no fool. He would have guessed the conflict between the Stormcloaks and Whiterun was brewing. After the siege she would open the letter. Yes, after the dreaded siege.
"The funeral is tomorrow at midday," Farkas told her without prompting.
For a while they sat in silence. Farkas ordered food for the both of them without asking Ellayna whether she was hungry or not. She probably looked as bad as she felt. Food would do her good. They ate the baked river fish, fresh bread with sweet butter and apples cooked in honey and almond milk. If Ellayna had been in better spirits she may have enjoyed it, but nevertheless felt better for having something other than ale in her belly.
"Vil said Skjor plans to make you part of the pack," Farkas spoke low after he had finished off his plateful. "It doesn't make sense."
"He sees me for what I've become, not who I was. He can put aside that I was a whore for my ability to kill. He's as self-serving as they come, only wanting to tolerate me because I'm suddenly useful to him."
Farkas froze. That was more than she had said to him in one go since she returned to Whiterun. Did he startle because Ellayna was harsh or because the truth about Skjor was pointed out to him with words? "He hates the Silver-hand," Farkas nodded slowly. "It controls him."
Ellayna was watching him keenly now. He was more reserved than he had been before she left. He had never been outgoing as such or loud, but this was different. "You don't agree with it."
"I don't like the Silver-hand in any way, but Skjor's become…"
"Obsessive," Ellayna offered the word with a snort. "I'm used to dealing with men like that." Ulfric was certainly no saint when it came to that.
What compelled Ellayna to place her empty hand on the table, she didn't know. All she understood was that she wanted to see whether or not Farkas would take it in his own hand.
"Why are you in Whiterun?" Farkas asked the questions he had been burning to since he sat down beside her. "Why now?"
"Ulfric wanted me to," she laughed without humor. "I do everything he wants these days. I'm not free, Farkas. I am the Dovahkiin and that is the only part of me that matters to anyone. It's like being a prostitute again; but instead of selling my body, I've sold my talents and magic to Ulfric and his Stormcloaks."
"I'm sorry."
"You didn't do anything."
He nodded, eyes on her hand. "I'm sorry for saying sorry."
She closed her eyes. "Ah, Farkas." Suddenly she smiled. "You haven't called me puppy or pup once."
Farkas chuckled. "It didn't seem right."
Ellayna stayed there with her eyes closed for a few minutes, relaxed. The food had dulled the effects of the ale and she could hear melodic singing behind her in the main part of the tavern. She could hear Farkas move, picking up his mug then placing it down a few seconds later. Then she felt Farkas' hand in hers. There was uncertainly in the act and his hand felt stiff in hers. Ellayna opened her eyes, watching him, knowing that she should pull away from the touch. She would leave Whiterun again and return with an army at her back. She would aid in the sacking of his home.
"I'm going to get some air," she told him tersely, removing her hand from his and standing. She slipped Kodlak's letting into her small room before going outside. Not waiting to see if Farkas would follow, she left the table and exited the Bannered Mare, stepping out into the cooling air. Afternoon was becoming evening and the sun was setting behind distant mountains, streaking the sky with gold and dark grey. Goosebumps formed on her skin in an almost pleasant way, cooling her hot body down. She became aware of Farkas standing beside her. "I regret it sometimes," she said quietly.
"What?" He asked in genuine ignorance.
"Leaving. I wonder what it would have been like to stay."
He nodded slowly, almost surprised.
"I shouldn't have come back, though. I've made so many enemies," she laughed. "It doesn't matter what my occupation is, there's always someone who wants to kill me."
"There's nobody right now," he told her. It was almost like a promise. "Not right here." She felt his hand gently touch her shoulder. She felt the urge to melt into him, lean all of her weight on him, and forget the burdens she carried. A moment later, she did just that and was held tightly by Farkas' familiar arms. Him kissing the side of her head made her lean back and press her mouth to his. Her hand went to the back of his neck as the kiss deepened. When they broke apart, he pressed another kiss to her forehead. She made her decision and mumbled in a low tone, breathing heavily, "We should go back my chambers." He agreed with a hum.
They were completely unheeded as they went through the inn. Ellayna made sure to bolt her door behind them, a task made difficult by Farkas' lips on her neck and hand going up her blouse.
Ellayna slowly became aware of herself and of her surroundings. She lay on her back, Farkas on his side beside her. One of his hands was on her belly. His skin was hot against hers and she could hear his slow breathing. It was not yet dawn, as there was no rays of sunlight filtering in through the shutters. She was too warm and oddly comfortable, the woolen blanket covering them heavy against her. Everything about last night had been comforting and pleasant. Farkas was so familiar it was almost like going home.
Another part of her knew it to be a mistake. He deserved better than a false hope that she was staying when she would always leave. Ellayna pushed herself upright, panicky all of a sudden. Of course she had made that mistake. She was constantly making mistakes. Farkas' hand being pushed away woke him and he murmured inaudibly in confusion. Ellayna stumbled naked out of the bed, trying to find her clothes in the dark.
"Puppy?" He asked quietly.
"I'm not your puppy," she retorted, louder than intended.
He was dumbfounded and his response to her cruelty only deepened her guilt.
"This shouldn't have happened," she tried to explain, finding her blouse first. She fumbled with the ties, frustration making her fingers clumsy. "It was a mistake."
"I don't think it was," Farkas mumbled, eyes not leaving her face. He was still sitting in the bed, the blanket covering his lap.
Being the Dovahkiin was more dangerous than Ellayna had imaged and she wanted none of that to spill over and cause harm Farkas. She was not in control of her own life and her death would cause him grief. The Stormcloaks would attack Whiterun. She would never be able to stay in one place. They were four good reasons why it would never work with Farkas. He would only get hurt. "I'm sorry," she hissed through her teeth, trying not to let her emotion seep into her voice. She pulled on her skirts, saying tersely, "I want you gone from here when I get back."
"Ellayna," Farkas sat forward. He made a brief attempt to take her hand but she snatched it away. "Please, calm down. I've missed you. I love you."
"And I don't love you," she impulsively snapped. She paused, registering what she said, and kept a mask of annoyance over her horror at what she had said. He was devastated. She turned on her heel and left him there, not even wearing any shoes as she stormed from the chamber and then from the inn. Her toes were frozen against the cobblestone ground and she hugged herself as she did a lap around Whiterun. More than one guard asked her what was wrong and she only glared in reply. She was close to tears by the time she got back to the Bannered Mare. She probably would have begun to sob if Farkas was still in her chambers when she returned. Her bed was empty and his clothing was gone. Closing the door behind herself, she blinked away her tears and lay down on the bed pallet, finding it still warm from where Farkas had been.
At midday, she did attend Kodlak's funeral. Wearing her glass armor and her bow over her shoulders, she lingered in the background. She stood behind everyone else and watched Skjor light the funeral pyre which sat on the forge below the giant stone hawk. Ellayna couldn't keep her thought on what was being said about Kodlak. She did not shed tears over him, instead just felt a deep hollowness inside her chest. He had been a good man, not one who should have had his throat cut by brutes.
Farkas looked fleetingly back at Ellayna more than once. He stood beside Vilkas, expression grim. She wondered if he told his brother about what happened last night. It would only make Vilkas loathe Ellayna more.
She did not linger after the funeral. It occurred to her that this was the right time to leave and begin her journey back to Ulfric. Something in her told her not to. She had to wait. It didn't take long to realize why; Skjor offered her the chance to help gain vengeance for Kodlak's death. She wanted more than anything to take it. She decided to go when he said but not for why he offered it to her. Something was more important than vengeance.
When the time came over a day later at dusk, Ellayna strode into the Underforge. She tried not to be offended by the surprised looks she got from all four of the Circle members. Farkas looked more wistful compared to Vilkas' anger. By the look on his face, Farkas had told his brother. Skjor and Aela were just plain shocked.
"I didn't think you'd come, Dragonborn," Skjor nodded approvingly. "You have courage."
"I'm not here for what you think I am," Ellayna told them matter-of-factly. "I have come to warn you."
"Warn us?" Aela nearly laughed.
"Ulfric has plans for Whiterun and Balgruuf has made them certain," Ellayna hardened her tone. "You'll know when the time comes and you have to protect the civilians. I can make it so no one attacks Jorrvaskr if you make it a refuge for terrified citizens."
They all stayed still, considering what this news meant to them and to Whiterun. Vilkas spoke with a very low voice, "Ulfric can't win, can he?"
"He can and he will," Ellayna told him. "I suggest you put aside thoughts of revenge until then."
"Will you join us after this?" Skjor asked. He seemed set on giving her the beast blood.
"I've yet to decide," she nodded once, stepping backward. With nothing more to say, she left them. Some of the weigh she carried was lifted, knowing that there was a possibility fewer would die than was necessary. She suffered internally about what she had said to Farkas, and that was a feeling that did not leave her as she traveled and even as she returned Ulfric's axe to him.