A/N Once again, a very early chapter! I'm going to be pretty busy during this Thanksgiving time, so I figured I should work to get this chapter out early. I was going to publish it last night, but my sister offered to edit a few things (and she did a very good job). Anyway, enjoy the chapter!
. . .
The stones under Vara's feet seemed to blur and shift as she slowly made her way up the stairs that led to Dragonsreach. She had been traveling almost nonstop for the past three days in an effort to reach the safety of Whiterun as quickly as she could. She healed herself as much as she could, but her escape had severally weakened her. It was a miracle she was still standing at this point. The safety that Whiterun offered wasn't the only reason that she had pushed so hard to reach the city, however. In truth, she was trying her best to keep her mind focused on anything other than what she had read in the dossier. So far, her plan had worked, even if she was on the verge of collapse.
"Hold there," a gruff voice ordered, causing Vara to tiredly look up from the ground and meet the soldier's eyes. "Dragonsreach is closed, citizen. If you need to see the Jarl, you should return in the morning."
"Jarl Balgruuf will see me," Vara stated, exhaustion permeating her voice.
"I'm sorry, citizen, but the Jarl is not taking visitors."
Vara let out a sigh, but stood up straighter and forced some authority to seep into her voice. "Soldier, I am a Thane of Whiterun and the Dragonborn of Skyrim. The Jarl will see me." The man's eyes widened, and he lurched into action, stammering an apology as he opened the great door for her. Vara only waved the apology away with a slight shake of her head and stepped inside.
The hall was warm, the kind of warm that can only be felt after days of walking in Skyrim's harsh climate. Even well into spring, the land had barely thawed. As expected, Jarl Balgruuf wasn't sitting on his throne, but his housecarl, the dark elf Irileth, maintained her usual watch over the hall. Vara approached slowly, her feet unwilling to move any faster.
"Dragonborn," Irileth greeted. "We were wondering when you would return. The Jarl is in his chambers, but I doubt he's sleeping, even if he should." The housecarl paused and narrowed her eyes, looking Vara over. "You don't look so good, Dragonborn. Do you need me to take you to him?"
Vara shook her head. "I'm fine, and I can find the way, thank you." Irileth nodded but didn't look convinced. As Vara walked past her, she could feel the housecarl's concerned eyes on her until Vara turned the corner, blocking her from view. A few minutes later, she knocked on the door to the Jarl's room. A shuffling sound came from within, shortly followed by a call to enter.
Vara stepped inside, closing the door behind her. "My jarl." she said, bowing ever so slightly, her injuries and the strange pounding in her head preventing her from doing much more.
Balgruuf looked up from the papers that were scattered across the desk in front of him, his features surprised. "Dragonborn! You've returned!" Vara's face contorted in what she hoped was a smile. "Did you find the information you needed?"
"Somewhat. The Thalmor don't know any more about the return of the dragons than we do, but I did find information about a man who might." Her speech seemed to have slowed as well.
Balgruuf looked at Vara more closely, taking in her tattered armor, neglected cuts, and fatigue. "Well, I hope that information was worth it. Are you all right, Varaduilwe?"
Vara quickly leaned against the desk for support but smiled anyway, pushing aside the pain that hovered at the edge of her conscious like an irritating fly. "I'm fine, my jarl," she insisted. However, as she pushed herself off of the desk to move towards the jarl, the world began to spin around her. She dimly heard her body hit the ground, heard Balgruuf call her name, and then the world turned to black.
. . .
Loud knocking roused Ulfric from his restless sleep. He blinked several times in the darkness and waited for his heart to slow. He had been dreaming once again, and his dreams were never pleasant. After a few moments, he felt composed enough to stand and open the door. A courier stood on the other side, drenched to the bone and looking as if he had slept even less than Ulfric recently.
"My jarl," the man said, bowing, "I delivered a report to General Stonefist, and he told me to take it directly to you." The courier fished a thick envelope out of his pack and handed it over. "I was told to inform you it is a report of the Dragonborn."
Ulfric's eyes widened ever so slightly. News of Vara! "Thank you. Please, feel free to rest at the Inn; you may tell the owner that I will pay for your stay." The man bowed again and thanked Ulfric before turning away and walking back down the hall, leaving small puddles in his wake.
Ulfric stepped back into his room and closed the door absentmindedly, his attention already absorbed by the packet of parchment in his hands. The fire in his room had dimmed somewhat, but it was bright enough for him to read by. He sat in front of the fireplace and tore open the letter, immediately beginning to read the first page.
For the next half hour, Ulfric read and reread the report. Finally, he leaned against the stone of his fireplace, closing his eyes and letting out a long sigh. Vara was alive. According to this report, the Dragonborn had been sighted leaving the Thalmor Embassy three days ago, and it was suspected that she was the one responsible for setting fire to the place during one of the many parties that Elenwen hosted.
Ulfric was glad for even that small piece of information. He was sure that if anyone could cause a stir in the ranks of the Thalmor, it was Vara. Unfortunately, the nagging feeling in Ulfric's gut told him that Vara didn't just happen to be strolling by the Embassy and decided to set it on fire. No, it was far more likely that she had been captured and taken there. And capture by the Thalmor meant torture.
A small part of him worried about what information Vara may have revealed about the Stormcloak movements and plans. She knew more than most did about his plans, although those plans had changed quite a bit since she had left. However, what worried him more was the shape that Vara was in now. The Thalmor were cruel and sadistic, and if she had found herself in their clutches, they had likely treated her even worse than they treated most prisoners. He had heard the way that the Thalmor assassin had spoken of her, calling her a half-breed. The Thalmor themselves likely held even more vehement opinions. Ulfric's mind flew to his dreams, his memories. If what she had endured was even half as bad as that...
But she was alive. Ulfric had to hold onto that thought. For the past few weeks, there had been nothing but silence in regards to Vara, and he had feared the worst. Now, however, he had hope. If she was alive, she might be able to return to Windhelm soon, return to him. And so Ulfric bowed his head and sent an earnest prayer of thanks to the gods for her safety.
. . .
When Vara woke, a familiar healing light was swirling around her. She blinked a few times to clear her vision and saw a woman through the golden light. Slowly, she sat up and waved the woman, who Vara recognized as a priestess of Kynareth, away. The woman backed up, an irritated look in her eyes. "Thank you, priestess, but I'll be okay. Please, I'm sure there are people at the temple who need you more urgently than I do," she said. The woman turned and spoke to someone out of Vara's field of vision, but her senses were still too dulled to make out the words. After a few moments, the woman walked away and someone else stepped into Vara's line of sight.
"Dragonborn, it's good to see you awake," Jarl Balgruuf said with a chuckle. "I've had the priestess healing you; it's a few hours after dawn now. Your wounds are... severe."
Vara waved a dismissive hand, although the movement aggravated the wound in her shoulder. "I'll be fine, my Jarl. Really. You shouldn't have dragged a priestess away from people who need healing," she scolded, although her exhausted voice held no heat.
"I'm the Jarl of this city; I'll do as I please. Besides, you seemed to need healing more than most of the people in the temple," Balgruuf chuckled, then grew serious. "Your body is covered in scars, Varaduilwe, and they all seem quite recent. What did those monsters do to you?"
Vara looked away. "What does it look like?" she asked, her voice bitter. Then she shook her head and her voice grew soft. "They tortured me, mentally and physically. They healed me after each session, but I think the weapons were enchanted to leave behind scars, even with healing."
Balgruuf bowed his head. "I'm sorry you had to suffer through that, Dragonborn. I'm just glad that your mission wasn't a complete failure." Vara nodded, and the Jarl fell silent for a few moments. Eventually, he pulled something from one of the pockets of his robe and pressed it into Vara's hands. Even before she looked down, Vara knew what it was. Ulfric's amulet.
As she gazed at it, the memories of Ulfric rushed to the surface of her mind, as well as the contents of the dossier that she had read. The one that had turned her world upside down. Before she could stop them, several tears rolled down her cheeks.
"Varaduilwe?" The jarl's voice was soft and concerned. "What is it?"
Vara took a deep breath, wiping away her tears. For a few moments, she debated whether or not to tell Balgruuf about the contents of the dossier. She trusted the man, but this was something close to her heart, something too painful to think about, much less speak of. And yet, she felt like she should.
"I found a dossier with my name on it in the Embassy when I was looking for the information about the dragons. It said that," she took a deep breath, steadying her nerves. "It said that my father used to be a spy for the Thalmor. He was sent to Windhelm to infiltrate the Stormcloak family and establish a relationship of trust with them so that he could spy on them." Now that Vara had started, the words came tumbling out. "He met my mother a month after he arrived in Windhelm. He had injured himself hunting, and she nursed him back to health. They fell in love during that time, and he defected. They both moved out of Windhelm and into the woods so that they would be safe from the Thalmor. Eventually, though, the Thalmor caught up to them and murdered them. I was away on a hunting trip, and when I returned, the house was in flames.
"For the past three years, I believed that my parents were murdered for their love of Talos and each other, and I was wrong. I thought that my father was an honorable man, a refugee from the Summerset Isles, a man who wanted nothing more than to flee the tyranny of the Thalmor. But I was wrong. My father worked for them for years, decades! He aided their cruelty, their twisted plots! Without my mother, he would have continued to do so; he would have spied on the Stormcloak family, maybe even assassinated them!" The tears came in angry torrents now, and she looked away from Balgruuf.
A heavy silence fell over them, and Vara found herself unable to meet Balgruuf's eyes. Gods above! She had been living a lie her entire life, and now that she knew the truth she didn't know what she would do. She didn't even know what, who, she was. The daughter of a spy? The daughter of a traitor? Or the daughter of elf who had been blinded by tradition? She didn't know.
Finally, Jarl Balgruuf reached out to Vara and covered her hand with his. "I am not gifted with foresight, nor do I know what may have happened, but I do know the man that your father became. He loved you and your mother; that much is obvious in your actions. You are a strong woman, and that strength is a reflection of the strength of your parents. A coward could not have raised a woman with a spirit such as yours. Your father made mistakes, but I believe he was a good man."
"Thank you, my Jarl. I'm sorry for burdening you with this, I know that my life is not a primary concern," Vara said, her voice soft.
"Look at me, Dragonborn," Balgruuf ordered, and Vara obeyed. "You are the Thane of Whiterun. That makes you my concern," he reassured, a gentle smile on his weathered face. "You are not alone in this world, Dragonborn." He paused for a moment, considering his words. "In that spirit, I believe you should send a letter to Ulfric Stormcloak. I'm sure he's worried about you."
Vara nodded. "I will, but I need to leave the city by tomorrow morning to return to High Hrothgar."
Balgruuf looked like he wanted to argue, but he nodded. "Very well. You will ride a carriage to Ivarstead though. You are far from healed, and I don't need the Dragonborn dying before even reaching the Seven Thousand Steps."
Vara smiled a tear-stained smile. "Thank you, my Jarl."
Balgruuf stood. "Of course. I'll send someone to get you some food and a quill and ink. As soon as you finish the letter, give it to the guard outside of the room, and he will ensure that it is delivered with haste." Vara nodded, and Balgruuf left the room, closing the door carefully behind him.
. . .
Evening found Ulfric in the courtyard training. After the news of Vara had arrived the night before, he hadn't been able to sleep, which had led to his mind wandering through a million situations, things that could happen when Vara arrived back home. Unfortunately, sometime in the early hours of the morning, before the sun had begun to shed her light across the earth, a thought had wormed its way into his thoughts. What if she never came back?
He had told her before she left that she shouldn't come back until she was certain that she could stay. Those words had been said in anger, and Ulfric regretted them because he knew that Vara would take them seriously. She had always followed his orders to the letter, out of respect at first and then out of love, and Ulfric doubted that this order would be any different, regardless of the circumstances in which it had been given. She wouldn't return until she could stay, and it might be that she would never be able to stay with him.
She was the Dragonborn, chosen by the gods. She had a destiny to fulfill, and she wouldn't be able to avoid it; she had proven that already. It was her duty to protect Skyrim from the tyranny of the dragons and prevent a second dragon age from coming. The first Dragon War had been long and bloody, and that was when there were hundreds of Nords fighting against the dragons, and several warriors gifted with the Voice. Now, it was just Vara. Unless she found a way to destroy the dragons from the inside out or eliminate their leader, she may never be able to stop fighting, and that thought terrified Ulfric.
He loved Vara. He did. He had been prepared to marry her before she had revealed her identity to him, and in the past few weeks, he had come to the conclusion that his feelings for her hadn't faltered. She had lied to him, yes, but he knew that she had done it to protect him and protect their relationship. She had told him that she didn't want him to see her differently, to see her as something that she wasn't. And he didn't, because the Vara he knew was already worthy to be looked up to as a hero, as a woman who could lead Skyrim to victory. She was brave, selfless, and honorable. She had deserved respect long before she was the Dragonborn. He loved her, but she didn't know it.
When she had told him the truth of her identity, there had been a look of deep sadness and acceptance in her eyes, as if Vara knew that she was losing something that she could never get back. She believed that she had forfeited her right to his love with her lies, and in the moment, he had felt the same way. Now, however, he knew that he needed Vara by his side, but she didn't. She still believed that he hated her. Why would she return to a place she felt she was not wanted?
Ulfric swung his sword, channeling his self-loathing and anger into the strike. The blade sliced through the wood at the center of the straw dummy that he had mostly destroyed already. It teetered for a moment before the upper half of the chest and head crashed to the ground, sending up a cloud of straw. For several moments, Ulfric simply stared at it, his eyes not truly seeing. Eventually, however, he blinked several times to clear his head and sheathed his sword. He was turning towards a different dummy when a voice stopped him.
"Ulfric," Galmar called from across the courtyard, motioning towards him. Ulfric glanced once more at the demolished target before walking over to his old friend, wiping sweat from his brow as he did.
"Do you have more information about the Embassy fires?" he asked. Ulfric had told Galmar to gather as many reports as he could find about the fire and Vara's involvement.
Galmar shook his head. "I'm afraid not. However, I do have more information about Oaken-Song." Ulfric's eyes lit up and he nodded for the general to continue. "She arrived in Whiterun late last night and headed up to Dragonsreach to speak to the jarl. As of this morning, she was still in the keep. The report says that she may be injured, as a healer was seen entering Dragonsreach, however, the Jarl won't let anyone in to see her."
For a moment, Ulfric debated his options. He wanted more than anything to see Vara, to confirm with his own eyes that she was safe, and yet, he knew that if they were to cross paths now, nothing good would come from it, because in the end, she still had a destiny to fulfill, and he still had a war to win. They were on different paths for now, and all he could do was pray that those paths would merge once again soon.
"Thank you for the information, old friend. Tell our informants to keep an ear out for any other news of the Dragonborn. Gather the council. We need to plan our next move." Galmar nodded, and Ulfric watched him walk away, his heart heavy. After a moment, he bowed his head and sent another prayer to the gods, begging them to watch over Vara as she did their work. Then, he straightened his shoulders and followed after Galmar. He had an army to lead, with or without Vara by his side.
. . .
A/N I hope you enjoyed the chapter! The next chapter is going to be a bit different than the ones that I usually write (a considerable amount of time may end up passing during it) and it may take me awhile to decide how I want to say things. However, it may be that my muse decides to visit me. We'll see. As always, I really do look forward to hearing from you, and I wish you all a happy Thanksgiving time (for my American friends)!
