Chapter 37: Mixed Messages

"As you have probably realised, we have been entertaining another one of General Tullius' representatives this morning," the Jarl continued; his tone somewhat dry.

He hadn't seemed to notice that his Thane and his visitor had both frozen in the act of sighting one another. Belatedly, I nodded by way of response to what the Jarl had said, but did not trust my voice to find the right words to speak as relief swept through me. A victorious song in my head buzzed and blurred all else, cheering he's alive, over and over again.

The fleeting surprise Hadvar had expressed when he had first seen me shifted quickly into warmth, and he smiled a smile that made first his, then my whole face light up.

"The Imperials have intercepted Stormcloak intelligence that suggests Ulfric plans to wage war on us, and soon," the Jarl intoned, his voice low and unimpressed, and justly insulted.

This captured enough of my attention that I did a double-take, tearing my eyes from Hadvar to glance to the Jarl. War on Whiterun? Was Stormcloak mad? Did he wish to make an enemy of every remaining Jarl in Skyrim?

"Ah, there it is. See?" the Jarl had been watching me, and shifted forward in his throne. "That is the face I wore when I first heard the news, too. Why, you are wondering, would Ulfric risk forcing my hand to choose a side when I have made my position clear?"

I frowned. "Is...Whiterun going to be attacked?" I asked quietly.

"Not if I can help it," the Jarl turned his attention back to Hadvar.

I did too, as nerves fuelled by a hollow indignation pooled in my belly.

"Quaestor, I would have you deliver a message to Stormcloak on my behalf, seeing as the General has kindly left you at my disposal until we can arrive at a resolution," the Jarl drawled.

Hadvar bowed his head respectfully. "I am at your service, my Jarl."

I sucked in a breath; my chest constricted in sensing what was to come. I had just gotten Hadvar back. The Jarl wasn't going to immediately send him away – was he?

"Good. You will take my axe to Windhelm, and tell-"

No. Hadvar couldn't go to Windhelm – if Ulfric or Giselle discovered a hint of who he was, he would be restrained and I might never see him again.

"You can't!" I blurted out on a desperate exhale, cutting the Jarl off.

Jarl Balgruuf paused, and all eyes turned to me.

I swallowed down my panic and rushed down the stairs before the Jarl's throne, to stand between him and Hadvar. "Sending an Imperial officer into Windhelm is tantamount to a suicide mission," I began, my eyes imploring.

"We may be on the eve of war, Miss Passero," the Jarl gave me a hard look. "The Legion are better equipped than my men to meet the Stormcloaks head on; both in this matter, and if Whiterun should be attacked," he sat back thoughtfully on his throne. "I do not believe that Ulfric truly wishes me to join with the Legion," he murmured. "But I do not respond idly to threats against my people. Sending an officer of the Empire in my name will make it clear that I will not play his game, for anything or anyone."

I shook my head again swiftly. "No – I understand. But, please, my Jarl. There is another reason you can't send...this Imperial officer."

In the silence that followed while the Jarl waited for me to continue, I glanced to our audience and tried to swallow the fear trying to choke me. The Jarl's people, and my comrades, all seemed to be in various stages of mute curiosity. Both Hrongar and Irileth looked as though they wanted to permanently silence me. Proventus seemed baffled – probably shocked that I had interrupted the Jarl. I couldn't see Farengar's eyes, as usual, but his face was trained in my direction and his arms were crossed; there was a hint of a curve to one side of his mouth, as though he was amused, or maybe snarling – it was difficult to tell without being able to see his eyes.

To the right of the Jarl's landing stood my shield-brothers and Lydia; my housecarl sending me a pleading look that I interpreted as her request that I tread very carefully. Farkas had his brows crossed; no doubt sensing my panic, but Vilkas seemed more relaxed. When I met his eyes, he gave me a supportive, barely discernible nod.

We are with you, was his unspoken message. Taking a step back so that I stood beside Hadvar, instead of in front of him, I reached down and clasped his hand securely in mine. I glanced up to him feeling wholly exposed, and my heart was appeased when I met his eyes. My anxious, uncertain emotions were brushed away by the calm, enduring look and the small smile that he gave me. Here was the courage that I had been seeking, and thus fortified, I turned back to the Jarl. His gaze was fixed on our joined hands.

"Jarl Balgruuf, I...would like to introduce you to Hadvar, the Legion officer who saved my life at Helgen."

"Uh hah," the Jarl seemed to understand well enough, though he spoke in a rather unimpressed murmur. "You were at Helgen too, were you boy?"

"Aye, my Jarl," Hadvar replied softly, nodding once. "Though I would argue with Lady Dragonborn that we saved one another."

I scoffed, throwing him a suspicious look and recalling that he had said something similar to his family when we had first met. "I would have been roasted alive by that dragon had you not dragged me to my feet and into the keep."

Hadvar cast me a doubtful, sideways glance. "And I wouldn't have made it out of the keep alive, had it not been for you."

"By what logic?" I blinked, trying not to laugh. My spirits soared and I realised that I was enjoying this, our first conversation since we had parted, despite it being a little mad.

He grinned at me, and I couldn't stop myself from laughing a little as I continued, insisting, "I was a significant hinderance to you-"

"Celeste," the Jarl called out pointedly; the dry, unimpressed tone cutting through our mirth.

Oh, right – we were still standing before the Jarl. I turned back to Jarl Balgruuf, unable to suppress my flush of embarrassment. "Apologies, my Jarl. Who saved who in Helgen is not exactly the matter at hand," I murmured the last.

Thankfully, I caught amusement of a sort in the Jarl's eyes, though he still sounded incredibly droll when he spoke. "I take it by your...familiarity with the Quaestor, that you believe your enemies will capture him and use him against you."

My chest ached at the word enemies, but I nodded, grateful that the Jarl had seen into the heart of the matter. "Yes. Stormcloaks attacked Hadvar's garrison in the Pale after intercepting a letter that I had addressed to him there, directly after my sister had come for me at the Nightgate inn. I am certain that they were looking for him."

"What?" Hadvar hissed.

"I see," the Jarl sighed, his eyes flicking between us. I cast Hadvar an apologetic look; sorry that it had happened, and sorry that I couldn't explain all I had said properly right now. I had explained, in a letter of course, but it had been returned to me unopened when Hadvar hadn't been located.

"Might I propose an alternative, Jarl Balgruuf?" Vilkas spoke up from the side of the hall.

There was a rustle of cloth and leathers as all in the room turned to regard my shield-brother. His arms had been crossed, but he uncrossed them as he took a step forward and bowed his head to the Jarl.

"Vilkas," the Jarl addressed casually, giving him leave to lift his head and join in the discussion properly. "Are you about to offer one of the Companions to be my messenger bird?"

"In a sense," Vilkas tilted his head to one side. "It seems that we would all benefit by knowing more about Ulfric Stormcloak and Giselle Passero's plans right now, with regards to both the fate of Whiterun, and the nature of their interest in our Thane," he flashed me a quick glance. "These false Dragonborn rumours have caused problems for her since they arose, and each move they make only results in more questions, and deaths."

I sobered at his summation, admitting to myself glumly that it was true. Those men and women who had been at the Pale garrison; the Imperial scout I had given my letter to. Even the Stormcloak whose shield we had taken while escaping from the Nightgate. They had died because of my involvement in this war, however obscure it was.

"The purpose of this mission is to deliver a message to Stormcloak, for the good of every man, woman and child who calls Whiterun home," Irileth replied tersely. "Nothing more and nothing less."

"Correct," Vilkas agreed with the Dunmer swiftly. "And, if you want your message to be interpreted as a negotiation, and not a threat, would it not make sense for it to be delivered, not by an agent of the Imperial Legion he has waged war on, but by your trusted Thane?"

My heart skipped a beat as the room responded to Vilkas' proposal with murmurs, for he didn't need to be any more explicit. They understood that he meant for me to deliver Jarl Balgruuf's message. And, I understood at once what my shield-brother was doing; merely what he had promised to do for me, before they had left to free Kodlak's soul. I tilted my head at him and crossed my brows. I had vowed to take them to Ysgramor's tomb and free them, and he was securing me a path to my sister instead. Oh, Vilkas.

Hadvar squeezed my hand urgently; I turned in a flash, looking up to him supportively. "It's all right," I whispered, squeezing back, feeling, very suddenly, remarkably calm. Now that I knew Hadvar had not been captured, I was not certain I needed to go to Windhelm so urgently, but if there was a window of opportunity available to me; if I could travel both there, and to Ysgramor's tomb, then I had to go now, before I presented myself to the Greybeards.

And if Whiterun goes to war, I questioned myself suddenly? Will you leave those you love to the mercy of the Stormcloaks, and hide away in High Hrothgar as though the battle is not taking place below you?

I grimaced at the prospect and tried to listen instead to what was being said. There was no certainty that Ulfric would besiege Whiterun.

"The Stormcloaks have already tried to capture Celeste," Jarl Balgruuf spoke audibly over the others, and the voices died down at his words. Once the hall was silent once more, the Jarl added, "What makes you think that if Miss Passero walks into Windhelm, they will not arrest her at once? Her very existence threatens to expose their lie."

Vilkas smiled knowingly. "She will not be alone," he offered simply. "They will not dare."

"This is absurd," Irileth spat out in frustration. It was clear from her outburst that she had been holding back her thoughts for some time. "The Dragonborn is possibly the least appropriately equipped person to deliver your message, and we are wasting valuable time discussing this, my Jarl," she turned back toward him pointedly.

Jarl Balgruuf was still staring at Vilkas; his eyes narrower than usual, but with his hand stroking his beard; speculating. "I am aware of the necessity for haste, Irileth," he droned. "And in this matter, I agree with you," he sat up straighter, shaking his head. "Celeste cannot take this message. Ulfric has become too impulsive, and we cannot hope to understand how he might respond if he is confronted by her."

He'll think I'm Giselle, I huffed morosely to myself.

"Then, send me, my Jarl," Hadvar spoke up gravely from my side. "I am not against your original proposal. I am equipped to confront Stormcloaks. Nobody else should bear that risk," he glanced at me, and added quietly. "They will not know who I am when they see me, and I will not stay long enough for them to realise it."

I wasn't so certain. I glanced over his features and thought that even though there was a sense of resolution about him, he seemed sadder than before. His eyes were back on the Jarl, but there was an air of defeat about him which reminded me of the mood he had been in as we had taken leave of his family and Riverwood, before I had absurdly burst into song on the bridge.

He's already thinking about good bye, I realised. Well, I was not ready to say good bye.

"My Jarl," my gaze was fixed on Hadvar, even though he wasn't looking at me, "I beg of you. Don't send the man I love to the home of my enemy."

Hadvar's head whipped to me; his eyes widened and searched me for the truth in what I had said. My heart raced for being so open, so forward about a feeling that I barely understood. Blood pumped noisily through my ears, but I maintained his gaze, so that he would know that I was sincere. The throne room was otherwise silent.

"I can do this," I added softly, to Hadvar mostly; my expression serious but my voice sonorous in the quiet hall. "They cannot hope to cage me. I am not as weak and useless as I once was," I said, a little louder. I turned to the Jarl, meeting his icy-blue eyes with what I hoped was a measure of calm confidence. "Stormcloak will hear your message should I deliver it."

The idea of standing before Ulfric Stormcloak sent cold fury through me which I tried to quench with a reminder that I didn't know how to shout all of the words he had used against the High King – yet.

But I realised suddenly that given a choice, I wanted to stand before him. I didn't want to hide in Whiterun, scared that the Stormcloaks were going to attack me the next time I set foot outside of the gates. I wanted to know why they were trying to capture me. I was worried about what the journey might unearth about my family, but for the sake of Whiterun, I could put that anxiety aside, to speak for the families and people I had gotten to know since I had arrived in Whiterun, who had remained home because they weren't equipped to stand up to Jarls or soldiers, or dragons.

I smiled, the awareness making me bold, and yet again, calmer. "If I go to Windhelm it will announce to Ulfric Stormcloak, and the whole of Skyrim that I, the true Dragonborn, stand not with the Empire, or the Stormcloaks, but with Whiterun," I took a step toward the Jarl, though kept a firm hold of Hadvar's hand. My chest swelled as I continued; "The time for hiding underneath your wing is at its end. Soon, I will ascend the seven-thousand steps to meet my destiny and nobody will shelter me then. But before I leave you all, send me to Windhelm; let me be your Thane, and the Dragonborn that Skyrim needs today."

The Jarl had sat back while I had been making my entreaty, and his eyes flickered over me as he frowned thoughtfully. There was a long pause after my pretty speech, during which the Jarl glanced at Vilkas, Lydia and Farkas, and then to Hadvar. His eyes came to rest on me. He sighed, and nodded; his mouth forming a grim line.

"Divines, give me strength," Irileth muttered under her breath.

Jarl Balgruuf shot her a quick, warning look before leaning forward on this throne and motioning toward me. "She is right, Irileth," he seemed to be reasoning with his housecarl, or perhaps still trying to convince himself that this was the right course. "Celeste will be leaving us soon, whether we acknowledge that time of change or not. However," he fixed his gaze on me, "if you are to do this thing for me, I cannot simply hand you to the wolves."

I bit my tongue to keep from laughing his unknowingly inappropriate analogy, wondering if I had heard Vilkas cough, or had just imagined it. I faced forward and remained still, my eyes shining with victory as the Jarl continued.

"I cannot have you marching up to the Palace of the Kings making demands. We must be smart about how we approach this," he mused.

Perhaps he had just been clearing his throat; Vilkas spoke up next. "I am with her," he intoned.

"As am I," Farkas added straight away.

"And I," Lydia continued.

I looked toward them as Lydia stepped forward to stand beside my shield-brothers; a look of wilful determination on her face. I smiled gratefully at all three of them.

"And I," Hadvar added, stepping up to meet me. He shifted his hand so our fingers were twined, but when I turned to see what he was doing, his eyes were on the Jarl; resolved and awaiting orders.

I shook my head. "But – you can't – I'm doing this for-" I whispered urgently.

"You cannot expect me to stay behind while the woman I love carries out a duty that would have been mine," his head shifted; his eyes found mine. His voice quavered with restraint as it lowered to a whisper; "had she loved me less."

I swallowed my words, unable to form an argument and with what I had been about to say forgotten. He loves me.

"I'm coming with you," Hadvar murmured stubbornly, shoving my shoulder with his lightly.

I couldn't mask my smile as I turned back to face the Jarl.

The audience did not continue for much longer. Sufficed to say, Irileth looked as though she wanted to murder somebody while Jarl Balgruuf assented that those who had spoken up would accompany me, and then outlined some conditions of his own.

I was to make directly for Windhelm, sticking to the main, public roads. No distractions or short cuts. I was to be accompanied by Vilkas, Farkas, Lydia or Hadvar, preferably all four, at all times. My entourage, who he rather embarrassingly referred to my friends as, were to be dressed in the armour of Whiterun guards, so as not to attract unwanted attention, and to make it explicitly clear to any who sighted us who our orders had come from.

Finally, Jarl Balgruuf asked me to come to him, and then stood to walk around to the back of his throne.

I let go of Hadvar's hand to comply, contented to do so in knowing that we would be spending a day or two, at least, in each other's company. By the time I had reached the landing, the Jarl had returned to stand in front his throne with an axe clasped before him.

"Take this to Stormcloak," he bade, holding the weapon out to me.

I glanced from it to him, grasping the axe with both hands; willing myself to be strong enough to hold it. It was heavy, but I could bear the weight for now.

"Tell him," the Jarl's eyes drifted to the axe in my arms, then he adopted a thoughtful, faraway expression. He spoke up in a more regretful tone. "Tell him to take my axe and lower his sword, for Skyrim's sake. If he will do this for our peoples, then I will stand by him at the moot."

I bit my tongue so I wouldn't snap. Stand with that traitor, that murderer? I merely nodded, as was expected, though my lips were pursed tight and my blood boiled at the possibility that, should Ulfric comply to Balgruuf's request, he might become High King after all.

"And if he will not accept my axe," the Jarl sighed, glancing up to meet my eyes. His look was hard, and his words were harder. "Then return it, for I will have need of it in the days to come."

I nodded, my fury admonished by the Jarl's weighty regret as I understood that if Ulfric would not stand down, Whiterun would be attacked by his army. Better for Balgruuf to stand by him at a meeting that assured him of nothing, than to bring the Stormcloaks down on the city.

"It will be done, my Jarl," I managed quietly. "For our people, I will use all I have at my disposal to try and make him see sense."

–

Within the hour we departed Dragonsreach. Hadvar delegated what needed to be arranged; Farkas was to assemble provisions, Lydia was to retrieve guard armour from the barracks, and Vilkas was to organise horses. A plan was proposed; we would meet at the stables within a half hour, ride east adjacent to the White river, and camp for the night at the junction where the White met Darkwater. Tomorrow we would ride north for Windhelm and deliver the Jarl's message before the sun set.

Nobody seemed to mind the plan, or deferring to Hadvar, and our party split up to prepare for the journey to Windhelm.

"What am I to do?" I asked as the others left to see to their tasks.

Hadvar turned and hesitated; the efficient, hardened edge to his eyes softened.

He opened his mouth, somewhat tentatively, and placed a gentle hand on my arm. "I am reluctant to let you out of my sights for a second. But, you should change out of that armour," he proposed; the least definitive suggestion he had made. "You're approaching Windhelm on behalf of your Jarl, not the Companions. Do you have anything else?"

I heard what he said, but the hand on my arm and soft lilting accent did wonders to distract me. I stared, muted as my thoughts cheered:

He's here.

He's alive.

You're travelling to Windhelm together.

You both just declared your love for each other in front of the Jarl.

"Celeste?" Hadvar prompted quietly.

I shook myself in an attempt to regain focus. Armour. Right. I had my Legion armour, which obviously wouldn't do, and...

I winced. There was always the ceremonial armour the Jarl had commissioned for me, with the Whiterun horse blazing on its breast. I was venturing out as a representative of Whiterun, wasn't I? But, I had my doubts the thin leather and jewellery-like fastenings would stop a purposefully thrown spoon, let alone a blade. I didn't want to wear it and be a nervous wreck about whether or not it would do its job. No, it would not do either.

I shook my head as I grappled to keep hold of Jarl Balgruuf's axe. "Nothing...suitable," I answered regretfully.

"Never mind - we'll work something out," he offered a warm smile, then glanced toward the axe. "Can I help you with that?"

"Oh. Thank you," I handed it over.

He strapped it to his weapons belt, nonchalant, as though it was weightless, and it swung to rest beside his sword. Hadvar motioned toward the stairs leading down from Dragonsreach, and the same hand rested on the small of my back when I turned to precede him.

"I know," he resolved happily. "We'll go by Adrianne's. Uncle Alvor's last letter made it sound like they are becoming such good friends that I would like to meet her. She's bound to have some armour that will suit our needs, given the amount she's been commissioned to make-"

As we clopped down the steep stairs, I listened to his casual talk in wonder, lost for words. That morning – no more than a few hours ago – I hadn't known whether he was alive, and had felt guilt at the thought of him suffering while I took the twins to Ysgramor's tomb. And now he was here, whole and completely fine, with his hand on my back, guiding me toward Warmaidens and chatting about his family.

A lump swelled in my throat and thick, confused tears sprang to my eyes. He'd been writing to Alvor and Sigrid. Of course he had, they were his family. But, it meant that I could have asked them about him after all. I had been panicking over him because I had been too afraid to ask anybody who might know of his fate, in case they made my worst imaginings real.

Why hadn't he told me he was alive? Where had he been, if not the Pale?

"Wait – please," I cut him off, stopped half way around the Gildergreen. The resident Talos worshipper cried out unintelligibly from in front of his tent, but with my mind full of conflict it was a simple matter to tune him out.

Hadvar's ease shifted into concern when he realised that I was in distress. "What's wrong?" glancing either side of us swiftly, he grasped my hand and urged me to sit on the nearest bench under the whitened tree.

I did as he bade, and once I had settled he knelt on the cobbles before me; his hand clasping both of mine resolutely. Again, I could only stare, caught between tears in the face of his earnest kindness, and a desperate plea for answers. It simply did not make sense that he had not told me he had survived, if he loved me. I was fully aware that we did not have time for the conversation we needed to have - our actions would determine which side Whiterun chose in the war - but I had to know what had happened - or what I had done wrong.

"I thought you were dead," I wavered; the lump in my throat made my voice crack. "Why did you not write? A single letter could have eased a weight of grief from my heart."

Hadvar's confusion deepened the furrow on his brow. Drawing back, he frowned. "Didn't...?" his voice was rough as well, and he cleared his throat and tried again. "But, I did write to you," he claimed thickly.

A prickle of unease crept along the back of my neck in the face of his bemusement, and I shook my head. "The last letter I received was the one warning of the false Dragonborn," I told him, slowly and clearly. The one that you signed with all your love.

His eyes widened then he glanced either side of us again, agitated. What was he searching for? I checked, but only found the usual Whiterun folk walking by, on their usual Whiterun business, completely disinterested in our world.

He sighed, loud and overwhelmed, and raked the Legion helmet off his head. It idly fell onto the worn, cold stones of the courtyard beside him. "You haven't received a word from me since then?" he managed through his teeth.

I shook my head again as fear clutched my throat. Hadvar had written to me? But that meant...

The stormy grey flashed, brimming with suppressed, building fury; as fierce as a sabrecat being backed into a corner. "You thought I was still in the Pale when the garrison was attacked?" he confirmed in a low voice.

I nodded.

"Shor's balls," he raised his hand to his forehead, closed his eyes and rubbed a temple as though he had a headache. He said nothing, and I said nothing as we both came to terms with what our revelations implied. There had been a chance that the attack on the Pale had been unrelated to my letter to Hadvar. Perhaps it still was. But there could be no denying that somebody was interested in us, with all of Hadvar's letters gone missing.

"I have nothing to offer but my word," Hadvar eventually broke the silence in a grave tone, meeting me with a sincerity that made my chest flip. "I did write to you, Celeste - at every opportunity," he vowed. "I knew there would be no reply, yet still I wrote. I was selfish – but the idea of reaching out to you helped ease my loneliness."

"Loneliness?"

He nodded. "I was promoted to Quaestor after Korvanjund – which removed me from infantry duty, to work special assignments with the upper hierarchy..." he reconsidered, shaking his head. "It meant I was always on the move, so I had no return address to give you. And, you were – are," he corrected; his eyes widened, "so much, to so many, who each demand a claim on you, so even when I was in one place for a few days, I didn't dare hope for a response to reach me. But - you didn't receive any of them?" Hadvar stressed.

"None," I confirmed, for what felt like the tenth time. Frustration sparked within me, and I frowned. "They must have been intercepted. Did you write of anything that our enemies want to know?"

"No, never - but I can think of plenty of people who are desperate for any intelligence to give them an edge in this damned war. Desperate people do desperate things," Hadvar cursed.

My mood darkened as Hadvar's summation honed my confusion into an arrow pointing directly at my sister. After she failed to retrieve me at the Nightgate and Hadvar in the Pale, would she have become that desperate? Would she have organised to snatch his letters before they reached me? And to what end – did they still want to retrieve me that badly? Why?

I had no answers, but soon, I would. Well, I thought petulantly, you are going to her. You are both getting what you want.

Giselle, I cursed, looking up to the Gildergreen and the skies beyond, though I didn't really see either. What do you want from me, I questioned the heavens? The clouds above were scattered and puffy, lying low and lined with dark shadows that, if they were to assemble their forces, might have brought snow.

"I'm sorry," Hadvar murmured; guiding me down from the clouds. His hand brushed my chin, and my eyes lowered, finding his. Grounded, my resentment eased.

"I will apologise to you for the rest of my days for causing you a single second of torment," his fingertips drifted down and his hand covered mine, folded on my lap. "I wish I had realised," he stared for a second, brushing my knuckles gently, then glanced up; his throat bobbing as he swallowed. "I would have sent word by some other means."

His thick distress caught in my throat, and I bit my bottom lip to stave off tears on the brink of falling. I could not be mad at Giselle, who was not here to rage at, with Hadvar knelt before me in despair.

Be grateful, I urged. He's here, now. With you.

My fingers ghosted his cheek in wonderment, and he stilled. "Peace, Hadvar. It's all right now," I breathed a laugh at his response; my eyes shining with unspent tears as my frustration scattered. "You're alive," my relief swelled, and I couldn't suppress a giddy smile as I sprang forward and threw my arms around his neck.

Hadvar wrapped his arms around me at once. The tight embrace came on so swiftly that I had the thought he had been ready to hold me at a word. He buried his head in my shoulder, breathing a weighty sigh of contentment that fluttered over my neck.

This made his presence real for me. I echoed his with a joyous sigh of my own, speckled with traces of delighted, incredulous laughter.

He's here, was all I could crow. He's holding me. He did write to me. He does love me.

The cold winds and people of Whiterun whipped around us, but we remained as we were, overtaken by the contentment, the luxury of being in each other's arms.

"Did you mean what you said in front of the Jarl before?" I asked softly. Not that I doubted his word, but I wanted to hear him say it again, to me and only me while we had this precious moment to ourselves.

Hadvar shifted a little, then his lips brushed the shell of my ear.

"Did I mean it when I said I love you?" he murmured.

Somehow, I bit back my gasp when his words, his warm breath, swept over me. He was my aurora, dizzyingly bright and achingly beautiful, chasing away the shadows of my night. All I could reply with was a nod.

He huffed in warm amusement and withdrew, just far enough to meet my gaze.

I stared back, searching his fond, relaxed expression, and a certainty settled in me. How could this have happened? How could we feel such devotion toward one another so swiftly? This kind of love had only ever been the subject of overly-mushy songs they had made us practise at college to use in romantic programmes.

His smile reached his eyes, making them dance. "From the day we met I have loved you," he shook his head, perhaps wondering, as I, that it had happened so fast. "I couldn't stop myself, no matter how I tried to argue that you were too good for me," he grinned, ducking. "I was so relieved when you said you'd come to Riverwood with me," he chuckled. "It was my chance to show you that there is more to me than a soldier's uniform and a list."

His happiness was infectious as ever, and it gave me hope for the future - our future. I brought a hand to his cheek, urging him to look at me again.

"I've missed you so much," I confessed; my fingers brushed through the thick auburn hair behind his ear. "And – I felt it too, on that first day that we met. I didn't know what it was..." I rolled my eyes. "But. I've never...loved anyone before," I arched a small, hesitant smile.

Hadvar closed his eyes, and he trembled as I toyed with the hair at the back of his neck. "Mm," he hummed, then swallowed thickly and leant into my touch. "I was going to say something, but..." he mumbled.

I laughed and withdrew, standing. The air had been cleared, and all was well between us. I would take him through the Cloud district to Adrianne's, and we could talk more of this later, if we felt the need. "My apologies for being such a distraction, Quaestor Reidarsson," I teased.

He fell into step behind me, playfully grasping my waist. I stifled a giggle and stopped, arching an eyebrow at him over my shoulder as I lifted my hands to cover his.

He leaned over the same shoulder and spoke assertively; "You are quite, but I'll let it pass this once, Lady Dragonborn. Now," he sighed; his hold relaxed and he lowered his head. "Where were we?" his words brushed my neck.

My cheeks flamed and I couldn't suppress my giggle as the stubble on his chin tickled me. He pushed his nose against me so I would turn my head, then pressed his mouth, hot and purposeful, to the skin under my ear.

My mind blanked; my eyes fluttered closed; my fingers tightened around his hands. "Um," I managed around a swallow.

"Oh, that's right," he stood, released me, stepped forward and flashed me a lopsided, cheeky smile. "Let's get you out of that armour."

A/n: thanks again for the reviews last chapter - glad you're enjoying! Msyendor I love your imaginings - very evocative. originalmagicalartist, thanks again for your kind words. I haven't played Skyrim in oh...coming up on 3 years now! I managed to sink soooooo many hours into it then that I think the quests I enjoyed (or wanted to fix) and the characters I liked the most were branded onto my mind to try and make something of later. The characters are what drive the story for me, so I enjoy developing them and just letting them do their thing. If I find myself drawing a blank regarding any plot particulars, I consult UESP, reddit, etc.