Arriving at the Falkreath camp she immediately headed towards the general's tent, pushing the flaps of the tent open. Surprisingly, he'd kept his orders brief and simply told her to head to Ralof for further instructions because he was in charge of this mission. She didn't know if the divines were mocking her on purpose but she wasn't enjoying it the least bit as she angrily made her way towards him.
Knowing she would have to take orders from Ralof made her uncomfortable. She was still hurt because of their last conversation and she was uncertain whether she was ready to see him again. Now that she knew he'd pitied her changed the way she thought of him, it made her blood boil in rage as she stomped her way towards him and the small group of Stormcloaks.
Ralof was the first to spot her, whatever he discussed with the Stormcloaks died on his lips as he refused to look anywhere else. She stopped in front of the small group and crossed her arms, silently regarding him. He was tense and cautious as he hesitated to speak, but after he inhaled deeply, he seemed ready.
"Dragonborn, you arrive," he stated the obvious. "Your skills will be needed."
She didn't have the nerve for smalltalk, not with him, she needed to know the plan how they would advance on the fort. "Just tell me what to do," she bluntly cut him off and his mouth turned down in a scowl.
He motioned with his head to follow him and the two walked closer to the shore, a bit farther from the other's. The waves gently hugged the shore as she silently watched the fort, unable to deny the happiness erupting in her belly. Despite the anger she was happy to see him unharmed and the fluttering belly made her frown deepen.
His voice was calm and collected when he informed, "There are a number of Stormcloaks trapped inside the fort. Our idea is for you to sneak inside and free them, and cause mayhem from the inside out."
It was a brilliant plan Minerva had to admit as she glanced at him for a second, but quickly averted her gaze back to the fort as she noticed he was watching her. Luckily she would enter the fort on her own, without Ralof or the rest of the group in tow.
"Once you reach the courtyard, you'll open the gate and we'll aid you in battle," he added.
The plan was set, she knew everything she needed, there was no need to delay. "Fine," she dismissed as she walked into the water, "See you soon."
"Minerva."
She was about to descend into the water but froze in place and looked at him over her shoulder, the water hugging her knees.
"Take care," he softly stated, his voice and the way he looked at her full with concern pulling at the strings of her heart. Her belly did a pleasant flip.
She didn't even acknowledge him, merely returned her focus to the front as she gently submerged into the water. Once she reached the fort all drenched, she waited a few minutes until she was somewhat dry before she proceeded.
She was as silent as possible as she approached the Imperial guarding the prisoners, and she took out her dagger on the unknowing fool. The death was quick and clean, not what he deserved, but she had no time to prolong his pain.
She looted the key from the fresh corpse and hurried to unlock the cells of the trapped Stormcloaks. One by one they took their armor and weapons until they were all ready to fight. She quickly explained their next course of action before they all headed out, killing every Imperial on their way to the courtyard. The battle had taken only a couple of hours after Ralof and his unit had stormed the courtyard, before the last Imperial fell and they roared in victory.
Her teeth chattered and her body started to shake now that the battle was finally over. She removed a strand of wet, bloody hair from her face as she willed her body to stop shaking, but to no avail. The shirt underneath her armor and trousers were wet, she needed to change into something dry. She probably had a spare shirt and leggings in her backpack somewhere in the camp. She needed to return to it quickly if she didn't want to freeze to death.
"Minerva!"
She cursed inwardly and shakily turned to find Ralof standing before her, breathing heavily. Blood dripped from his chin and was splattered across his face, but even when she looked closely she couldn't determine whether it was his own or from their enemies. He inspected her from head to toe, and his brows furrowed in concern and caution.
"Are you alright?" he asked.
Minerva nodded weakly and stated, "Y-y-yes, everything's f-fine." Her teeth chattered badly and she didn't feel her lips as she shook more and more.
Ralof's pursed his lips and removed the fur drapped over his shoulders, then covered her with it. The fur was large enough to cover her from head to toe and she could immediately feel the warmth coming from it. She blushed as he guided them to the nearby bench, then sat her down as he readjusted the fur around her, kneeling on one knee.
"Wait here," he softly ordered, looking at the fur warming her instead of her eyes, "I'll head over to the camp and get you spare clothes."
"R-Ralof."
He was about to leave but froze in place as he expectantly waited for her to speak. It took her a few heartbeats before she admitted, "I h-hate the c-cold."
Her admission pulled his lips up in a warm smile and suddenly she felt as though the world was a better place. The anger and hurt diminished, she was still in pain because of his words, because of the fact he pitied her for what she'd gone through, but she was also happy to be close to him again. She imagined how it would feel like not to see him for a few months and found she would miss him more than she liked to admit.
He opened his mouth to speak, but the roar of a dragon interrupted him. His face froze in horror and Minerva looked up at the sky.
"Dragon!" someone shouted.
It swiftly passed from one end of the fort to another and she caught a glimpse of its orange scale. She didn't need to think twice to know what kind of dragon it was.
She'd witnessed the Revered dragon once from a safe distance, but refrained from attacking it. Revered dragon's were strong and agile, and she doubted she could kill one on her own yet. She pushed the fur from her shoulders and readied her fire magic, Ralof took out the quiver and bow as he shouted orders to the rest of the Stormcloaks.
"Take your bows! Bring it down!" he yelled just as the revered dragon flew towards them. The arrows bounced off of its scales, few hit the dragons wings but it wasn't enough to bring it down.
Few managed to jump into cover as the dragon breathed ice, but some weren't as lucky and the dragons shout turned them to ice.
"Sound the horn!" Ralof yelled and a Stormcloak hurriedly did so. Minerva knew Galmar would hear it and head with the rest of the Stormcloaks to their location, to help bring the dragon down. She would take over after that.
She threw the fire magic at it once it was close enough, but it didn't seem to damage it, it only served to peel the dragons attention from the other's at her. It flew towards her, confident and ready, and she barely managed to avoid the frost breath it used, freezing a couple more Stormcloaks in the process as she dodged.
The dragon barely showed any signs of pain while it directed its soulless eyes at her, hovering over the fort close enough yet too far away for the arrows to find their mark.
"Los bo wah krif zey, Dovahkiin?"
Are you going to fight me, Dragonborn?
Minerva ground her teeth in irritation as she shot a mightier storm spell at it. The dragon roared, the stormspell strong enough to cripple the beast and hinder its flight for a heartbeat which forced it to land roughly. The ground trembled with the sheer force of its landing and she almost stumbled. The dragon shook its wings but refrained from ascending again.
"Sahlag. Zu'u fent krii sahrot Dovahkiin!"
Pitiful. I shall kill the mighty Dragonborn!
The dragon used its ice breath and she summoned a strong ward to block the beasts power. To make things worse, it came closer without interrupting its shout and with each step towards her she felt the increasing power colliding with the ward. Her arms started to shake, she could barely block the immense power. Someone ran at the dragon from the side, Minerva noticed, and witnessed them bury their weapon into the dragons wing, an ax as she could recognize, causing a deep wound.
The dragon roared in pain and the shout was interrupted which gave her an crucial opening. She conjured a bound sword as she was running towards it, using the chance while the dragon violently flapped its wings and smashed its tail against the ground, hitting few Stormcloaks in the process. Some managed to get close and they all cut their weapons into its scales.
She was about to jump on its throat then climb up its neck to reach its head, but the dragon recovered sooner than she thought it would and its eyes zeroed in on her. Its movements were fast and there was nothing Minerva could do; it buried its fangs into the left side of her body, her hips and ribs, her hands up in the air holding the weapon and ready to strike. The pain was something she never experienced before. The dragon chewed her between its fangs, she could feel its jaw moving and tearing her muscles and bones apart as it shook its head.
With the adrenaline pumping through her body, she somehow managed to bury the bound sword into its head and the dragon finally spat her out, roaring in pain. After several painful turns she came to a stop facedown and everything around her went numb. Muffled screams and roars disoriented her and she tried to get up, but the pain was crippling. Everything below her waist was numb and she feared to roll on her back to inspect the wounds. She tried to summon her healing magic, but her mind had been drifting on and off into unconsciousness, her body too injured for her mind to focus.
"MINERVA!"
Somewhere she heard Ralof yell her name and she strained her foggy and bloody vision to see. Ralof managed to plant his axe into the dragons neck, but it only served to earn the dragons wrath. It kicked him and he flew several feet back. The dragon hit the soldier's advancing with its wings, effectively throwing them away several feet.
"Ahrk ful faal Dovahkiin lost mahlaan."
And so the Dragonborn has fallen.
The injured dragon spoke. Minerva fisted her hand as she felt the life slowly leave her body. The dragon fought off the Stormcloaks, using its shout to freeze them or burn them alive. Her vision darkened, her heartbeat slowing as the sounds around her muffled to the point she couldn't comprehend anything. Barely she could make out the change in the dragon's roar, as though it was feeling immense pain until it subsided, followed by a huge tremor. The last thing she felt was the dragons soul passing through her body, but even the surge of power wasn't enough to bring her back. She embraced Sovngarde.
####
It took Ralof a while until the dizziness subsided completely. His eyes fell on the dragon, with general Stone-Fist on its head, cleaving his ax into its skull. It took seconds until the dragon fell limp before them, its skull torn open and bloody, and its skin started to burn off of its bones. As he expected it, the Dragonborn absorbed its soul but he couldn't see her anywhere. Ralof picked himself up, the hit the dragon landed earlier bruising him entirely, every bone and muscle hurt as he stood on his feet, slowly dragging himself to where the soul went.
He came closer and panic made his heart race as he saw Minerva lying on the ground, unmoving. He hurried as fast as he could, ignoring the pain and his protesting legs, and fell on his knees softly calling her name. She didn't react. He noticed the blood around and under her, noticed her torn armor and horror clenched his gut.
"Minerva," he called again, not wanting to trust his own eyes. Gently he turned her over and noticed her pale and blue lips, touched her cheek and felt her cold skin.
"By the nine…" he whispered. "This can't be true." He removed the hair from her face and a cold realization settled in his gut. She was dead.
"Minerva!" Ralof shook her by her shoulders as Galmar stopped next to him, the ax in his hand dripping with the fresh blood; while the dragon had been occupied with the rest of the Stormcloaks, he managed to climb up the beasts back and cleave its skull open. It had been pure luck for the dragon to be that occupied not to have noticed him, he knew so, but it came with a huge price.
Galmar, filled with grief, placed a hand on Ralof's shoulder. There was no use, the Dragonborn was dead and no potion in the world could bring her back. Ralof sat back and pulled his knees to his chest, gnawing his lower lip between his teeth until he tasted blood. Nothing hurt him more than the fact he didn't apologize for his stupid words, and the grim truth was he would never be able to do so.
"By the gods, we're doomed," Ralof spoke to himself. He'd lost Minerva and that caused a wound which would never heal again, but they had also lost the Dragonborn. The only chance of slaying Alduin now died in front of their eyes and there was nothing or no one that could kill the World-Eater.
Galmar looked around the camp, the survivors helped the injured and poured healing potions down their throat, healers healed whatever could be treated. Many had died because of the dragon but he would count the dead later. He knew exactly what Ralof was referring to. Dread loomed over him as he tried to come up with a viable solution, one that could undo the Dragonborn's current state which would also give them a chance for survival. Frantically he looked around and his eyes rested on the dragons bones.
Were the situation different and the Dragonborn still alive, he would have bragged about killing a dragon in front of the Dragonborn until his end days. But his pride was shadowed by a grim situation; one he needed to find a solution for because he didn't dare face Ulfric's wrath. He knew Ulfric respected the Dragonborn greatly even though Galmar thought little of her, but Ulfric's respect for her was deeply seeded by his deceased father. Ulfric had listened stories about the Dragonborn in awe when he'd been a child and it was one of the reasons he thought highly of her and her destiny. Her death would surely shock him, Galmar had no doubt of it, but even more shocking was the imminent threat of the World-Eater.
There had to be a way to bring her back. Galmar instantly thought of necromancy and the fool Corrium who'd practiced the forbidden arts. He knew Ulfric would skin him alive for suggesting such a rigorous thing but Galmar had an idea, and once he'd set his mind to something no one could stop him, not even Ulfric. The College of Winterhold probably practiced the forbidden arts behind the curtains and since the Dragonborn wielded magic, he wondered whether she'd gone to the College. Even if that weren't the case, perhaps there was someone who could help them.
"Ralof," he called, and even though Ralof didn't look up he knew he had his attention, "Do you think the Dragonborn had any relations to the College of Winterhold?"
Something clicked in his mind and he cursed his own stupidity. He'd been too trapped in his grief to think and he slowly stood up to face general Stone-Fist. "Yes, she did. She's also told me of a master restoration mage in the College." He watched the general think, his brows furrowed and face tight, and cautiously he asked, "Do you think they could… bring her back?"
Galmar exhaled sharply, "We have to use every option, even if it involves necromancy. She's the Dragonborn, no one can kill the World-Eater but her. I will gather a group of Stormcloaks. We'll take her to Windhelm. You should head to the College."
"Aye!"
Galmar nodded and gave his shoulder a strong pat, dismissing Ralof with a sharp, "Godspeed, Ralof. Talos guide you."
Ralof nodded and whistled as hard as he could and seconds later a steed trotted to him. Galmar called for a few Stormcloaks and they all gently lifted her onto a wooden board, before securing her with cloths and ropes. Ralof gave her a quick, worried once over before he yanked the reign, hope rising in his chest that the mages at the college could work wonders.
####
Few hours later...
"Open the gates!" Galmar yelled at the nearby Stormcloaks who were guarding the entrance to the Palace of the Kings. They hurried and did as their general commanded, confusingly eying the person transported on the board but not daring to ask anything. They carried her gently through the door as Galmar entered first, spotting Ulfric sitting on the throne seemingly occupied with a group of people. When Ulfric's eyes landed on him then on the board, then back on him, Galmar felt as though he would vomit.
The Stormcloaks carried Minerva to the left, up to Wuunferth's residence, even though the old mage probably couldn't help Galmar guessed she would be safest there until Ralof arrived, hopefully with the College mages. Ulfric was already up on his feet, stalking down the stairs. Galmar leaned both his hands on the pommel of the sword secured to his belt and stood as tall as he could, towering an inch or so over the soon-to-be High King.
"What's going on?" Ulfric asked, sounding and looking alert.
Galmar steeled his nerves and decided to start at the beginning, "We captured Fort Neugrad without any loss. The Imperials didn't expect our attack and they were dead before they even knew what happened." He exhaled deeply as he continued, "But then a dragon swooped down on us and we had no time react; it killed a dozen of our soldiers, at least. It was strong, even the Dragonborn had her trouble fighting it."
"Who's on that board, Galmar?!" The Jarl's voice grew impatient, his nostrils flared and there was madness swirling in his eyes. Galmar knew he suspected who was on it, but still wanted to hear it loud and clear.
There was no point in delaying the truth to him. "The Dragonborn didn't see the dragon move and the beast managed to bury its fangs into her. She's dead, Ulfric."
Ulfric stormed past Galmar towards the stairs, with Galmar quickly following. When they arrived they found Minerva already transfered from the wooden board to the bed with the Stormcloaks gathered around, both Ulfric and Galmar stopped near the foot of the bed. Looking at the dead Dragonborn filled him with dread, but he couldn't understand why the gods chose such a fragile, cowardly woman to be Dragonborn.
Galmar always expected the legendary warrior to be a pure blooded Nord, a strong man or woman who would die in battle with a smile on their faces, who would courageously face the World-Eater. He considered her a coward because she'd avoided her destiny instead of embracing it. She'd ran from her fears instead of battling them head on. She irritated him beyond explanation, there were so many times he'd wanted to bury his ax into her skull, but she was still Dragonborn and without her Alduin would destroy the world. The fact they all depended on her made him almost tear his hair out in frustration.
There was no telling when Ralof might return and whether the mages from the College would willingly help them. Even if they did arrive with Ralof, he doubted there was anything to be done. Death was an irreversible state and unless the master mage wielded necromancy, he couldn't believe anything could bring the Dragonborn back.
"Leave," Ulfric ordered, and slowly one by one of the Stormcloaks left until it was only Galmar and him left. The Jarl turned to face him then, and Galmar knew his long time friend was lost. But he wasn't the only one.
"She had a greater destiny than this," Ulfric sighed as he ran a hand down his face.
Silence settled in after the statement. There was nothing each of them could say what the other didn't know already. The Dragonborn was dead, the World-Eater on their tails, it was only a matter of time until the dragon would start destroying their world. Everyone would die, but somehow Galmar couldn't quite accept the scenario. Not until the Ralof arrived.
"There's still hope," Galmar spoke into the room as he looked at the Dragonborn. Such a small woman carried the fate of men on her shoulders. He inhaled, adding, "Ralof went to the College of Winterhold to ask for help."
"And what will the mages do?!" Ulfric inquired harshly as though Galmar said the most hideous thing, but that didn't surprise him. "I won't let them use Necromancy in my Palace!" he declared confidently.
"But if it is the only way…" Galmar silenced at the sharp look he received from the Jarl, but decided to continue nonetheless, "You've seen Alduin yourself, Ulfric. With the Dragonborn dead, there is no one to stop him. If necromancy is to bring her back, who are we to doom the world by refusing it?"
Ulfric heaved a sigh and Galmar knew he was starting to talk some sense into him. He wasn't fond of necromancy either, but if it was the only option then Galmar would surely take it. There was too much at stake.
"Over here!"
Jorleif appeared in the room with Ralof in tow, followed by three mages. A woman was followed by two younger mages, a Nord and a Dunmer, and they all stopped close to the bed. Jorleif returned to the palace hall as the three mages gathered around the bed.
Ralof, out of breath, looked at Jarl Ulfric and explained, "This is the master restoration mage, Colette, from the College of Winterhold. These two are her students. They assured they could help."
Colette was already examining Minerva and barely lifted her attention to the Jarl, greeting him with a half polite, "Hello," before averting her attention back to Minerva. The more she inspected the Arch-Mage, the more Colette's brows furrowed.
"Oh Minerva, what have you gotten yourself into?" she muttered worriedly.
Onmund looked over Colette's shoulder at Minerva's dead body, dread filling his gut as he wondered softly, "Is there anything at all that we can do?"
The question provoked a snort from the master mage, "You will be surprised just how powerful the restoration school is. This is a once in a lifetime chance to witness the mastery of restoration magic, so gather around!" Colette enthusiastically stated.
Colette cleared her throat and faced both her students, "Now you both know that to heal something we need to feel it directly, with no obstacle between our healing magic and the wound, yes? So we need to remove as much armor as possible to be able to see what we heal. Brelyna and Onmund, would you be so kind?"
The two younger mages slowly started to remove pieces of Minerva's armor, both tentatively pulling the pieces of cloth and leather apart to reveal more of her wounded torso. Only then did Ralof realize how much damage the dragon did with its fangs and he swallowed nervously.
Colette was rather displeased with the rest of them in the room curiously watching whatever was happening, and couldn't help but comment, "What a lovely audience." The comment provoked Galmar and he made sure to shut the mages mouth.
"Mages with forbidden magic cannot be trusted! We need to be ready to intervene in case the spell doesn't work!"
Colette faced Galmar with a lazy smile on her face as she placed both hand on her hips. She was happy to prove him wrong, "I am very sorry to disappoint you, but no necromancy will be used. I do not practice the forbidden arts, nor do my students. There is a wonderful spell that works without gathering the limbs of corpses. Remember that, general. Not every mage is a necromancer."
"Still, the situation is delicate," Ulfric inserted, pulling Colette's attention to him, "We need to oversee it."
Colette raised her hands in defeat. "Be my guest, I don't have anything to hide," she stated and turned back to find the majority of the wounds clear of the armor.
Colette rolled up her sleeves and summoned her magic, explaining, "Now we try to heal every wound, both internal and external."
The older mage moved her hands over the Dragonborn's body, glowing in a dim warm light, her eyes closed. She focused on healing every injury as she moved her hands closer towards her stomach. The mages brows furrowed as she increased the magic. "This is bad," she muttered. She lifted her one hand towards the two mages as she demanded, "Give me a magic potion."
Onmund drew a potion from his belt and handed it to her, and she emptied it with one huge gulp. The light from her hands increased as she used a stronger healing spell. It felt like forever before she moved on, healing every bit of torn flesh and broken bones on her way.
The blood remained the only proof of what had transpired, her skin was healed but there was no sing she was alive. Ralof's brows furrowed and asked for an explanation.
"Did the spell work?" Ralof wondered.
Colette wiped her forehead with the back of her hand and averted her focus at him, willingly explaining, "This was only the start. I need to heal her first before I can cast the spell."
Colette inspected the Arch-Mage carefully, making sure every little injury was taken care of before she nodded, satisfied with her work. "Alright," she exhaled, looking at both her students who were standing on the other side of the bed. "You have to make sure every injury is healed, otherwise there might be complications with the spell and the healing process afterwards. The spell I am going to use is called 'Bestow life' and it is a very dangerous spell. It can bring someone who's died back to life, but it needs to be used with caution.
"Only mages with a extensive amount of magic power can use it, otherwise the spell will drain your life energy instead, and become a threat to you. Never, and I repeat, never, use the spell if you're not one hundred percent certain you can withstand it."
She took the nearby chair and sat next to the bed, placing one hand above Minerva's heart and one over her forehead and eyes. "The books of old say it takes two days for the soul to leave the body. How long is she dead?"
The question was directed at no one in particular, but it was Galmar who answered, "Little less than a day."
Colette nodded that she understood before she spoke, "It is important to use the spell in the first two days of death, otherwise the soul has already departed. It will have no effect. Now, please silence all of you. I need to concentrate." She closed her eyes and leaned her head slightly back, her mouth moving as she muttered intangible things. The light from her hands grew brighter and brighter until they were forced to shield their eyes from the blinding flash erupting from the mages hands.
Distorted noises filled the room around them, as if the magic was twisting time and space around it. It lasted for a few seconds then it subsided completely, along with the blinding light. Everyone waited with their breath held for anything to happen, but the Dragonborn remained still on the bed.
"Did the spell work?" Onmund nervously asked.
No answer came from Colette. He noticed something was off and walked around the bed to stand next to her. Onmund noticed her hung head and limp posture and hurried to her just as she was unable to sit upright anymore. She threatened to fall from the chair but Onmund caught her. Brelyna was next to them in a second.
Thankfully, the master mage opened her eyes and seemed to react to her surroundings. They sat her up and helped her sit, none of them leaving her side.
"Are you alright?" Brelyna asked.
Colette nodded, looking drained and very tired, "I told you it is a dangerous spell. But it worked."
"Is she alive?!" Ralof asked, too eager to hear of the outcome.
Colette sighed and stood on her feet, then went back to the bed to take Minerva's hand. Her thumb pressed against her pulse point, her face drawn tight, until a smile erupted on her face. "See for yourself," Colette stated, holding Minerva's hand out to Ralof.
Ralof approached and gently took her now warm hand into his, holding his breath as he searched for the pulse. Relief washed over him as he felt the steady beat under his thumb.
He looked at both Galmar and Ulfric, declaring, "She's alive!"
Galmar was at a loss of words, same as Ulfric. He wasn't entirely sure what exactly happened but according to them the Dragonborn was alive, without the use of necromancy. The realization washed a heavy weight from his shoulders and he exhaled deeply.
Ralof was beyond happy as he gently placed back her hand on the bed, knowing she would be alive and well was everything he needed to hear. He wanted to kiss her and whisper sweet promises into her ear until she woke up, and barely resisted the urge to lean down and place a small kiss to her forehead.
Colette appeared next to him and Ralof stepped away, to grant the mage enough space. Colette carefully looked over Minerva as she explained, "Her body has recovered from the wounds, her heart beats and her organs are working properly, but her mind must process it. This can take a day, a week, or even a month. Now it's up to her and how strong she is that will determine how long she'll take to recover."
That didn't sit quite well with Ralof, but there was nothing he could do. His hands were bound and the only thing he could do was sit and wait until she awoke. He ran a hand down his face, finding comfort in the steady rise and fall of her stomach.
"We'll need a few buckets of fresh, warm water so we can clean her," Colette asked, her attention on the Jarl of Windhelm, "We don't know how long she will take to wake up."
"It will be arranged," Ulfric promised and ordered a guard to tell Jorleif. He turned to Colette, "If there is anything further you need, talk to my steward."
"Thank you," Colette thanked.
The men left the room and returned to the great hall, Onmund stayed behind in case they needed his help. Once they stopped by the table in the hall, they all turned to Jarl Ulfric.
"What's our next move?" asked Galmar, "Our people are ready to take the Reach. Just give the word."
Ulfric ran a hand down his face as he exhaled deeply, leaning both hands on his waist. "Hold our position in Falkreath for the moment, give them time to regroup. How many have we lost to the dragon attack?"
"Too many," Galmar stated gravely, to which Ulfric sighed. "I'll head to Falkreath and make preparations, hold our position there. Ralof, you'll return with me, yes?"
Ralof wanted nothing more but to reject and stay in Windhelm, to witness Minerva's awakening, but these were times of war and winning against the Empire took priority. So he heavy heartedly nodded to Galmar's unspoken order. They both received a blessing from the Jarl before they left. Once they stepped out into the harsh weather, Ralof looked up at the sky and felt snowflakes melt on his skin, his thoughts drifting back to Minerva. The hardest was to leave behind the person he cared for and wonder whether he would ever see her again. He couldn't know what the divines had in store for him, what cruel or joyous fate he would face. What he knew for certain was how she made his heart race and he would make sure to tell her once she woke up.
Galmar cleared his throat and Ralof took a deep breath, to steady his nerves. He walked with Galmar to the gates before they took the horses, galloping off towards Falkreath. He prayed to every divine to watch over her even though he knew she was safe within the palace walls.