LOVE AND WAR
Lydia
Despite Arngeir's suggestion to leave for Morthal immediately, the group didn't start their descent of the Throat of the World until noon the next day. Lydia didn't object as she preferred doing that over climbing down a treacherous mountain in the dead of night. If anymore trolls appear, it'd be nice to see them without too much strain.
Luckily nothing attacked them, nor did the harsh snowstorm that had slowed their progress during their initial ascent rear its ugly head. It was as if reaching High Hrothgar had been the group's—more specifically, Katjaa's—first trial; now that they had passed the test with flying colors, they would no longer be subjected to volatile monsters or horrible weather.
They reached Ivarstead an hour after the sun had gone down. The original plan had been to travel as far as they could on the first day before resting, but that changed when the group learned of the vacancies at the Vilemyr Inn. Apparently the village had recovered from its dragon attack rather well as they all had their own separate rooms. Katjaa thanked the innkeeper for his generosity and apologized for being so rude the first time they had met without mentioning that her anger had been dragon soul-induced. He was quick to forgive her, noting that the gold he had received from the Thalmor was the main reason.
The next morning began with a long breakfast. It wasn't as good as the food that she was used to dining on in Dragonsreach, but after two weeks of surviving off of the Greybeard's tasteless rations, it was almost a miracle to eat something warm that also had flavor. As they ate, the group went over their plans one more time: they were first going to make the four day journey to Whiterun, where they would purchase more supplies then hire a wagon to take them to Morthal. Kole was the most enthusiastic about returning to Whiterun, regardless of how brief the stop would be, much to Lydia's surprise. She had never seen the Harbinger so excited—or his equivalent to excitement—about anything for as long as she had known him.
Rimion made a point to comment on this in his usual joking manner, much to Kole's normal annoyance towards the Arch-Mage. Lydia nudged him in the side playfully; he responded by flashing a mischievous smile at her that made her feel warm inside.
How can he make me feel this way so easily? She certainly felt an attraction to Rimion, one that she knew was being poorly hidden—if at all—from the others. She'd had crushes on men before, like on Commander Caius, head of the Whiterun guard, who had been the first to recognize her combat skills. But what she felt for Rimion was something more, something… stronger. Lydia didn't know if she should act on her feelings as it was rare for a Nord to be attracted to an elf, but unheard for a Nord to be attracted to a High Elf that once belonged to the Aldmeri Dominion.
She pushed her inner turmoil aside in favor of focusing on the mission at hand, at least for now.
After doing as much shopping as they could at the small general store in Ivarstead, they headed off for Whiterun. Lydia thought that the trip was going to be uneventful unless a dragon found them, but almost instantly she and the others got a taste of Katjaa's Shouting in real combat. A group of highwaymen jumped them a few hours outside of the village, which they would later regret had they the ability to.
It was almost as if the legends from Lydia's childhood came to life in front of her eyes. Katjaa stepped forwarded and Shouted the bandits off their feet with a wave of energy that passed from her lips. Another Shout sent her zooming across the road, teleporting her to the men so fast that Lydia's blinking nearly caused her to miss it. All of them were dead before they could get up, before anyone else in the group could arm themselves.
Katjaa looked a little weary, an obvious sign that the Shouting still drained her energy, but she managed to stay on her feet. "And that's just from two weeks of training and meditating," she said, half-gloating as she began searching the highwaymen for any valuables.
No more bandits attacked the group for the duration of the trip. Nothing attacked them, but all of them were tense, expecting and prepared for the worse to come at them at any point. Lydia had her bow out most of the time, ready to nock it with a steel arrow at a moment's notice.
After four days of traveling, the walls of Whiterun were a welcome sight. Lydia had been prepared to see her city in ruins, a product of an ill-fated dragon attack, like Ivarstead had been two weeks ago. But everything looked in order, at least from the great distance they were from Whiterun.
"Welcome, Dragonborn," said a helmeted guard once the group arrived at the city gates, two hours after sundown. "It is nice to see you again."
"Uh… you too," Katjaa replied, obviously unsure who the man under the helmet was. "Have there been any more dragons threatening the city?"
The guard shook his head. "There were a few distant roars, but no visual sightings. The closest reported sighting was in Ivarstead, but that's on the other side of the Throat of the World."
"Thank you," she said to him as he opened the gates for the group. They entered, tired and hungry from walking for almost twelve hours straight. Katjaa looked to Arenar. "Glad we didn't have to go through the effort of using your magic ring to get into the city."
"I like to use it as a last resort, whenever possible," he said. "I'm not much for controlling minds. It's definitely a power that should not be abused."
"So where are we going to stay?" Rimion asked. "There are plenty of inns to choose from. I'm fond of The Bannered Mare, but that's all the way in the marketplace."
"We could stay at my place," Katjaa suggested, pointing at a dingy little hut next to Warmaiden's, the smithy that belonged to Adrianne Avenicci, Proventus's daughter.
"That house has been vacant since I was a little girl," Lydia said. "I think a crazy woman lived there thirty some years ago, but she was tried and a hanged when it was discovered she was a murderer."
Katjaa looked at her curiously, as if thinking that Lydia had been joking. "You can't be serious."
"Just rumors I'd heard," Lydia said. "It could be that nobody wanted a house so small, considering every other house in the Housing District is twice its size, and has at least two floors."
"Imagine having to pay for something that dull and small," Rimion said. "That'd be enough to piss you off."
"We can go to Jorrvaskr," Kole offered. "Normally the beds there are reserved for the Companions, but exceptions can be made every now and then."
Nobody argued with that idea. Lydia could only think of two other places for the group to sleep for the night, excluding the several other, lesser-known inns in Whiterun. The guard barracks was one choice, and the closer of the two, but Commander Caius wouldn't like civilians being in there after hours. The other choice was Dragonsreach, where there would be plenty of beds and food. But Lydia didn't want to see her father, as she knew he would try to make her stay in the city, despite being Katjaa's housecarl.
"Jorrvaskr sounds nice," Lydia said.
The rest of the group nodded in approval, so they followed Kole to the home of the Companions. His pace was almost that of a run, as if he wanted nothing more than to be with his fellow warriors. Dog moved even faster than Kole, somehow knowing exactly where they were going.
Soon they were at the doors of Jorrvaskr. Lydia had only ever been inside the oldest hall in Whiterun once in her life, two months earlier. The day of her promotion to her current rank as guard captain, Kole had offered her a room in Jorrvaskr, and the chance to become a Companion. Word must have gone to her father about the proposal because he had suddenly appeared out of nowhere during her tour of Jorrvaskr. He immediately denied Lydia the opportunity to join their ranks without any explanation. Kole let her go without much of a fight, likely to avoid causing trouble with the Jarl.
To this day she had no idea what her father's problem had been with her becoming a Companion. It must have had something to do with the attack on Jorrvaskr that had resulted in the death of Kodlak Whitemane.
Kole pushed the double doors wide open to the immediate praise of the Companions dining in the center of the room. It was rather late for supper, but the intoxicating smell of cooked meat and strong ale made Lydia forget what time it was. She wanted to rush over to the table and join in on the feast, but she decided that would be rude.
A red-haired Nord that sat at the middle of the long dining table, next to an empty chair, had the biggest smile on her face. "You're back!" she shouted above the cheering of the other Companions.
Kole left the group and appeared by the Nord's side a moment later. He passionately kissed her, much to the entertainment of the Companions, and then said, "yes, Aela, I am back. Only for a day or so, I'm afraid." His hand moved over her stomach. "How is…"
"The baby is well," Aela said, pulling Kole back in for another kiss.
"A baby?" Rimion repeated in a whisper. "And Kole's the father? I bet they'll have the same scowl."
Lydia stifled a laugh, but she was in a similar state of disbelief. I've always heard the Companions were quite welcoming of all races, unlike most of Skyrim, even though it was once only made up of Nords. I bet they would accept a Nord and a High Elf couple. She looked to Rimion, wondering if any part of him felt the same way that she did.
Kole broke off the kiss and turned his head to the group. For a second, Lydia didn't recognize him. He had the widest grin on his face; nothing like the weak smile he would force when making a joke directed at Rimion. His gray eyes were filled with joy instead of their normal neutrality. It was an odd sight, to see Kole… happy.
"Come on, my friends," he yelled across the hall. Even his voice was lighter and more relaxed. And his use of the word friends was odd to hear coming from his mouth, but it was said with so much feeling that Lydia wondered if that is really what he considered the group—his friends. Maybe not Rimion, but you never know.
The group scattered, finding any open places available at the table. Lydia dug into a roasted chicken with little concern for proper dining manners, but a quick glance around the table revealed that everyone at this way. She listened to the stories being told by some of the Companions. Most were of their victories in battles, other were about victories in the bedroom. She laughed alongside them, as if she had been a Companion all her life. They accepted her as one of their own, and did the same for every other member of the group. Rimion, who sat three seats down from Lydia, likely wasn't use to so much kindness and respect in this northern Tamriel country, but he basked in it.
Lydia lost track of the time, but eventually the Companions began shuffling off in a drunken state to what she remembered as the living quarters. Even Kole and Aela, who had spent most of the supper whispering back-and-forth with each other, eventually disappeared into the lower floor of Jorrvaskr. Gee, I wonder what they'll be doing.
Rimion walked over to Lydia as the last of the Companions left the table. "Let me help you to a bed," he said, wrapping his arm around Lydia's. "You've had quite a few glasses of ale. We wouldn't want you getting lost or falling down the stairs."
"I haven't had that much," Lydia assured him in a slightly slurred voice. She accepted his arm anyway and started for the living quarters. The two of them descended the stairs slowly, though that didn't stop Lydia from stumbling into the door. "Okay, maybe I did have a little too to drink."
Rimion led her through the dark hallway. He stopped at the first room and poked his head in. "Looks like there's only one empty bed left. You should have it."
"Oh, if you insist," she said, tired and ready to fall asleep.
He directed her over to the bed, trying to move as quietly as possible; Lydia, still in her chainmail armor and drunker than she could ever remembering being, stomped towards it loudly. A few curses were muttered in their direction, but they sounded half-hearted, as if they were used to loud drunks. We are in Skyrim, after all.
Lydia almost fell straight into the bed, but first Rimion helped her remove her numerous weapons and her armor. "Thanks," she said to him, collapsing onto the surprisingly comfortable mattress.
Rimion waved it off. "Try to get a good night of sleep. I'm gonna try to find a place for myself."
He began to walk away, but Lydia grabbed his wrist. "Come down here," she demanded. He kneeled beside her bed. She could sense he was smiling, but that was nothing new when she was talking to him. She gave him a peck on the cheek, his stubbly cheek tickling her face as she did so. "Now you may go."
"I'd rather stay," he said wistfully.
"You can if you want to," Lydia told him, hoping he would understand what she meant.
"I don't think that's a good idea," Rimion said with a great amount of reluctance in his voice. "I wouldn't want to take advantage of you, and I doubt your father would approve."
"To Oblivion with what my father thinks. If I did everything he wanted, I'd have never gotten to know you as well as I do now."
"That may be true, but you're still asking me to stay with you tonight with a lot of alcohol in your blood," Rimion reminded her. "It wouldn't be right to… you know… without having sober Lydia's consent.
"Sober Lydia's been wanting this as long as the drunken one has."
Rimion was quiet for a while. Lydia wanted to take that as a sign that he was reconsidering, but even in her less than stable state of mind, she had a feeling that he wouldn't.
A minute passed before he leaned over and lightly kissed her forehead. "See you in the morning." He left the room without saying anything else. Lydia thought about going after him, but she was afraid that, without the support he had given her to get into the bed, she would simply fall over and pass out on the floor. So instead she rested her head on her pillow and let her drowsiness take her.
The next day was busy for everyone in the group. Katjaa went to buy some more food for the trip to Morthal; Arenar volunteered to take care of finding a wagon; Kole, accompanied by Dog, decided to gather any information he could about Ustengrav from the older Nords of the city; Rimion shopped around for potions and fresh ingredients to make his own. Lydia wanted to go with the Arch-Mage, but she was chosen to speak to the Jarl and learn about anything they would need to know about Morthal. She understood that, out of anyone in the group, she was the wisest choice to do such a task, but that didn't mean she enjoyed it.
Before they all left Jorrvaskr, Lydia managed to pull Rimion aside. "I wanted to apologize for… trying to seduce you last night. I don't normally offer up sex so readily."
That was an overstatement. Lydia had never laid with another. Her maidenhood was about the only innocent thing about her. No one had ever seemed to be the right person to give it to. But Rimion... felt right. More than right.
"No need to apologize," Rimion said. "I was rather flattered. Had I not been speaking to Drunken Lydia, I would have likely taken you up on that offer." He looked down at his feet. "I've… never been with a human. Many members of my race can say the same thing, but not with the disappointment I feel."
"Perhaps we could fix that later," Lydia whispered, taking her hand into his, having no idea where this lustful side of herself came from.
Rimion chuckled nervously, but he didn't let go of her hand. "I'd like that. If anyone was going to be my first—first human, that is—I'd like that person to be you."
Lydia would have liked to stand there for the rest of the day, but the group wanted to leave for Morthal by tomorrow morning at the latest, and they both had assignments that need to be taken care of. She kissed him, this time on the lips; the warm feeling she felt when he smiled at her burned with more intensity than it ever had before. "I'll see you later," she said when she finally pulled away from him.
"I can't wait," he said.
Lydia walked with a spring in her step until she reached the doors to Dragonsreach. It was then that she remembered Rimion thinking that her father wouldn't approve of the relationship. I don't see why he wouldn't. Rimion is his closest elven friend, ever since he saved Nelkir. Father didn't even care that he was once a Justiciar. Still, she decided that, for the sake of a good visit, she would keep the relationship she had with Rimion to herself.
She entered the largest hall of Whiterun, noticing that it was no longer as packed as it had been when her father had the gates closed to everyone entering or leaving the city. Her father was sitting in his throne, with Proventus on one side and Irileth on the other. He was in a deep conversation with both of them, only noticing Lydia approaching when she was passing the firepit that separated the two dining tables.
"Lydia! I didn't expect you back so soon!" He rose from his throne and gave Lydia a tight hug. She wished she had her armor on as he almost made it impossible to breath. Thankfully it didn't last long. "Has your business with the Dragonborn already concluded?"
"No, Father. In fact, it's hardly begun."
Her father frowned. "Oh? Well, what has brought you back here?" He returned to his throne then directed Lydia to answer.
"The Greybeards have given Katjaa a task of retrieving an ancient relic from a tomb north of Morthal," Lydia explained. "We decided to stop here to resupply and gather any information about both the tomb and Morthal, before taking a wagon the rest of the trip."
"Morthal?" Her father rubbed his chin, likely trying to think of what the relic might be. He just might figure it out. Father has always been infatuated with Greybeards and their history; he even attempted the pilgrimage to High Hrothgar once, though he was not permitted in. "Ancient relic… if memory serves me correctly, the founder of the Greybeards was buried north of Morthal. Jurgen Windcaller, I believe."
Lydia nodded. "That is what the Greybeards said."
"My daughter has heard the voice of the Greybeards and lived to tell the tale." Her father looked to Proventus and Irileth with a smile on his face. "Can you believe that?"
"I can barely contain my excitement," Proventus said, covering his mouth as he yawned.
Lydia glared at her father's advisor before returning her attention to the Jarl. "I was hoping that you could tell me everything you know about Morthal. We don't want to risk entering the city and revealing Katjaa as the Dragonborn if, for instance, the city is known for housing the Thalmor."
"I actually don't know that much about Morthal," her father said, "other than that it is only half the size of Whiterun. With the death of the High King, the holds aren't interacting as well as they normally do. All the Jarls and Jarlessas are squabbling for a chance to become the new ruler of Skyrim."
"What of you, Father?" Lydia asked. "Do you not wish to be made the new High King?"
Jarl Balgruuf shook his head. "There are very few things that I want more. Whiterun would make a great capital of Skyrim, what with it being in the heart of this country. But, the Empire has put their full support in making Elsif the Fair the High Queen, as she is the widow of Torygg. Though I feel I would do a better job, since she is a young and inexperienced ruler, I will support the Empire in any capacity that I can."
"Ulfric Stormcloak won't like that," Proventus said.
"Aye, that is true," Jarl Balgruuf said in agreement. "The allies of Windhelm put their support into Ulfric, despite wanting to become the rulers themselves. I imagine it is mainly through the fear of being killed, like he did to young Torygg; no other Jarl has proved they have the tenacity to rule Skyrim."
Irileth cleared her throat. "And no other Jarl governs a more divided city than that Stormcloak bastard. He's more xenophobic than any other Nord I've ever heard of."
The doors of Dragonsreach opened with a loud bang. Lydia turned around to see who had entered. The Nord was equipped with heavy armor covered in the same blue material that the Stormcloaks were known for. Lydia feared for a second that Ulfric had somehow heard her father's words and would now Shout him into the ground, like he did to Torygg. But this man was much younger than Ulfric and had short, rust-colored hair that matched his curly beard. His eyes were that of an animal: savage and ready to kill its prey. In his hands he carried a large double-edged axe, but a mace hung from his waist.
The man passed by Lydia without acknowledging her and, much to her surprise, knelt in front of her father. He raised the axe up and presented it to the Jarl. "This is a gift from Ulfric Stormcloak. I believe you know what it represents." His voice was gruff; Lydia thought the sound of a rockslide was a good comparison.
"That I do," Jarl Balgruuf said without any pleasure in his tone.
"I would advise accepting it," the man said. "Ulfric believes you are a true son of Skyrim, and would be an important ally against the Empire."
The Jarl chuckled lightly, which, if Lydia knew her father, meant that he was amused by this man's impeccable timing. "Ulfric obviously doesn't know me as much as he thinks he does. I might be Jarl, but I am loyal to my Emperor. Take the axe back to him."
The man laughed coldly. "You think these walls that surround your city will protect it from the might of the Stormcloak army?"
"These walls are old, but they will stand up against everything that Ulfric wants to throw at them," Jarl Balgruuf told the Stormcloak confidently. "Both are true for me as well."
The Stormcloak stood up straight, a vicious grin on his face. "I told Ulfric this was a fool's errand, that there was no chance that you'd have the backbone to fight against the Empire that holds us all back, but he wouldn't listen. I can't wait to prove him wrong."
"What is your name?" Jarl Balgruuf asked.
"I am Dmitri the Cold-Blooded," said the Stormcloak, almost sounding defiant as he did so.
"Well, Dmitri, make sure you tell Ulfric that the Empire is ready to fight for Whiterun." Lydia thought it wasn't tactically a good decision for her father to warn the enemy, but it was imposing, to say the least.
"I will." Dmitri turned around and headed back towards the doors of Dragonsreach, sneering at Lydia as he passed her. She puffed up out her chest to look menacing, but because she wasn't in her armor or carrying her sword, it likely didn't achieve the desired effect. Dmitri only opened one door this time, but he didn't close it. He's acting like a child.
"Proventus, go fetch the letter I wrote out to General Tullius," her father said. Proventus left for the back rooms at once.
Lydia watched the steward for a moment then addressed her father. "How do you know the Empire is going to stand with you?"
"Because an Imperial soldier arrived last night with a similar request that Dmitri just gave me, only hers was from General Tullius," her father said. "I told her I would consider what I would do and give her my answer sometime today. I wrote out a letter not too long after she left, explaining to Tullius the terms of an alliance between us. I was only waiting for a good reason to arise for me to hand her the letter."
Proventus returned with an envelope in hand. "Here you go, my Jarl."
Jarl Balgruuf accepted it. "Lydia, if you would not mind, could you go to The Bannered Mare and deliver this to the Imperial? You'll know her when you see her."
"Of course, Father." If it will keep you from begging me to stay here. Lydia took the envelope from him and started towards the exit. She left through the door that Dmitri left open, closing it behind her. She walked to the marketplace, not surprised to see Katjaa at one of the stalls, buying food for the trip to Morthal. What did surprise Lydia was seeing Arenar shopping with her. They both looked happy to be with one another. Maybe the relationship between Rimion and I isn't the only one that's blossoming.
Lydia slipped into The Bannered Mare without either member of the group seeing her. There's no reason for them to know I am helping start a civil war. The inn wasn't very full, so it didn't much time before Lydia spotted the Imperial, sitting alone at a table reading a paper, even though her father's description of the relatively young woman hadn't been much of one. She wore the normal light armor of an Imperial troop; a leather cap covered her blond-haired head. She had dark hazel eyes that seemed quite interested in whatever she was reading. A sheathed longsword was attached to her belt.
Though she knew this woman had to be the one that had talked to her father, Lydia decided it would be better not to have assumed. "Are you the Imperial sent by General Tullius to speak with the Jarl?" she asked the woman.
The woman stared up at Lydia suspiciously. "I am, but I hope there is good reason you have been made aware of such classified information."
"Jarl Balgruuf is my father."
Some of the suspicion in her eyes died down, but some remained. "Well… I wouldn't call that a good reason, but it is better than you being a spy." She extended her hand. "Name's Elisa Tullius—I'm his niece, not daughter."
"I am Lydia." Lydia took the empty seat across from Elisa.
Elisa raised a brow. "It is just Lydia? Is 'the Greater' not a surname?"
"My father earned that title during the war against the Aldmeri Dominion," Lydia explained. It felt odd to her to do so, as no one had ever assumed her name was 'Lydia the Greater'. "I have to earn my own title."
"Ah, I see," Elisa said. "Forgive me for my ignorance, if you would. I've only been in your country for a couple of months, and I am yet to learn most of its traditions."
"It's no problem." Lydia reached into her pocket and placed the envelope in front of Elisa. "This is the reason I am here. My father has decided to accept your uncle's offer."
Elisa slid the letter into the bag on her back. "That is excellent news."
"Please be swift in delivering that to the general," Lydia requested. "There was a Stormcloak representative that just spoke with my father. When my father denied allying himself with Ulfric, the Stormcloak all but promised that their army is going to attack the city."
"Then I will leave right away," Elisa said. She stood up and headed for the door. "It was an honor to meet you, Lydia. And I am glad your father chose to remain loyal to the Empire, as the alternative was… not preferable."
"The honor is mine," Lydia said. She watched Elisa leave the inn, wondering what she meant about 'the alternative'. She looked back at the table, realizing that the Imperial had left the paper she had been reading. Lydia wasn't the type that would normally snoop, but curiosity got the best of her.
The writing on the letter was atrocious; most of it was unreadable to Lydia. She guessed that Elisa had to have read this handwriting before to be able to understand it. Maybe this was written by General Tullius?
There were two words that Lydia was able to distinguish from the scribble on the paper, though once she did, she wish she hadn't. The first word that she could make out was 'Jarl'.
The second was 'assassinate'.
