Minerva blinked her eyes open and the first thing she spotted was the vase on the nightstand. She couldn't see the rest of the room and decided to sit, though the effort pulled painfully at her muscles and bones. As she sat on the bed, she slowly started to recognize her surroundings, and found she was in her room at the palace in Windhelm. She squinted to adjust her vision to the dim light and quickly realized she was alone.
Slowly she placed her bare feet on the cold stone floor and wiggled her toes. Loose olive trousers hugged her legs, a huge shirt hung down her frame and it almost looked like a small dress. She pulled at the collar to look inside and found no breast band or bandages. Her memory of how she ended up here was missing, she remembered they'd liberated the fort and a dragon had attacked afterwards. What happened beyond that point was a mystery to her.
A flask on the desk near the wall caught her attention and she decided to pour herself a mug of whatever was inside the flask. Hopefully, it was water and not ale.
Standing up was difficult and she barely found enough strength to stand without holding on to the nearby nightstand. Her legs were shaking as she took a step in the direction of her destination. Without holding on to something, there was no way she could reach the desk. Perhaps she could crawl over to it?
Inhaling deeply, she decided to do just that. She swallowed her pride and slowly went on her knees. There was a slight numbness pulsing through her legs which made the crawling not as easy. Her arms did most of the job and it made her wonder why on Nirn she could use them without any effort, but her legs had barely any feeling in them. She was basically dragging her feet as she pulled herself forward using mostly the strength of her arms.
Somehow, she crawled to the desk and climbed up to sit on the chart next to it, groaning with the effort as she used what little strength remained in her hands. She breathed deeply as she sat, eying the flask which was in the middle of the desk. Her throat was sore, all she wished for was a mug of damned water.
She reached her shaky hand towards it, the flask almost within her grasp. However, her trembling fingers didn't wrap around the handle and instead they threw the flask over.
Fucking flask!
She ground her teeth in irritation as the flask bounced over the floor, the clatter louder than any beastly roar. The entire palace surely heard it.
As she suspected, the door to her room opened not long after and a startled guard entered with his weapon drawn.
"My lady?!" he gasped without moving from the doorframe, his face wide as though he'd seen a ghost.
Minerva swallowed the little moisture gathered in her mouth and smiled weakly as she requested, "Could you bring me a mug of water, please?" her voice and throat sore.
The guard nodded, exclaiming, "Of course! Right away!" and he hurried off to do as she requested.
A few moments of silence passed, leaving her to wonder what had happened after the liberation of the fort. The smile from before faded and her eyes rested on her stretched out legs and her feet, wiggling her toes again to find them reacting normally. So why couldn't she walk properly and why was she in Windhelm? Minerva needed answers.
The guard reappeared close to her and poured the water in the mug. She accepted it from him and took a generous sip, immediately feeling how the freshwater invigorated her.
"Are you well?" the guard asked, accepting the mug from her before refilling it.
Minerva nodded, her voice still sore but better as she watched the water pour from the flask into the mug, "I'm fine, though I feel like a giant hit me with his club and sent me flying."
The guard chuckled as he placed the filled mug and flask on the desk. Facing her, he informed, "I need to inform Jarl Ulfric that you're awake. Wait here."
The guard left and it made her wonder why the Jarl needed to know. Not knowing what had happened drove her mad and she hoped at least Jarl Ulfric would give an explanation.
The Jarl appeared a few moments later without the guard, looking as if he was fighting the sleep with all his might as he hurried to her. He stopped once he was close and took in her form. She noticed the braids near his temple were missing, leaving his hair a ruffled mess. The dark blue shirt he wore made his pale skin almost glow in the barely lit room. He looked different, as though he wasn't his own as he bent over to take the flask from the floor and placed it on the desk.
"You look like you can handle yourself," he commented, his attention moving from the flask at her.
Minerva readjusted in her seat and stretched her neck, feeling the relief wash over her after the bones cracked with the effort. She looked at him, admitting, "I've seen better days, but it would help if I knew how I ended up here. And what is wrong with my legs?"
His brows furrowed to her question, suspicion tightening his features. "You don't feel them?" he inquired, looking and sounding worried.
Minerva explained, "Barely, and I had a hard time walking."
The Jarl crouched before her and took her ankle in his hands. The action surprised her and she blushed as she felt his fingers pressing into her skin through the linens. He moved up to her calf, squeezing the muscle gently before moving to her knee.
"Do you feel that?" he asked, looking genuinely concerned about her.
She nodded, "Yes."
He retrieved his hands and stood before her, looking as clueless as herself. The earlier display made her wonder in what world she woke up to to find Jarl Ulfric so careful and concerned. She shook her head a little.
"What happened?" she inquired and watched as he took another chair to take a seat in front of her.
"Galmar and the rest of you liberated Falkreath," he started. Minerva could remember they'd won, but anything beyond the dragon attack vanished.
"What happened after the dragon attack?"
He looked grave when he admitted bluntly, "You died. The dragon killed you," and it brought more questions than answers.
Her brows furrowed as she looked around, deep in thought, wondering if there was something different in the room. She couldn't shake the feeling that there was something different, that something had changed. Perhaps she was truly dead?
"Am I in Sovngarde?" she wondered carefully, looking at the Jarl. But if she was in Sovngarde then that meant he was dead as well.
Her question pulled a chuckle out of him as a lazy smile stretched his lips. "No, this isn't Sovngarde," he inserted, the amusement loud in his voice.
She couldn't believe him wholeheartedly and wanted to ask more but the door opened. The guard from before stepped in, followed by a person Minerva couldn't really believe to be here.
"Here is the mage," the guard announced and the Jarl freed the chair in front of her.
Said mage took his place and smiled, and Minerva was even more confused.
"It's good to have you back, Arch-Mage."
"I'm surprised to see you here, Colette," Minerva admitted, the confusion ringing loudly in her voice. She briefly glanced at Jarl Ulfric to find him casually leaned against the wall near the window, his arms crossed.
The smirk was loud in Colette's voice when she spoke, "Well, not everyone is capable enough to make sure you don't die. How are you feeling?"
"Tired, but I've been worse. Although I don't remember anything beyond the battle," she admitted.
Colette clicked her tongue, her features tightening, "Yes, you were in a pretty bad shape when I got here."
"How is it I am still alive, then?" Minerva wondered with her brows raised.
Colette seemed offended by the question and leaned forward, the irritation loud in her voice when she reminded, "There is a restoration spell that can bring you back to life. Haven't you paid any attention to my lessons?!"
Minerva remembered Colette telling them the basics of the spell, but she'd refrained to teach them thoroughly. She would have to learn it.
"Of course," Minerva admitted with a smile, but it did nothing to lift Colette's mood..
Colette was talking and mumbling as she crouched in front of her and inspected Minerva's legs, asking questions of her well-being and strength which Minerva answered short and simple.
After a moment the mage stood and nodded with a satisfied grin on her face, the earlier irritation gone. "You'll be able to walk in no time. Make a few careful steps and you'll be just fine."
Minerva nodded to that and decided to ask for her friends at the College. "How's everybody else?"
Colette waved her hand, "Onmund and Brelyna are teaching the new students what they know and J'zargo is still perfecting his scrolls. Tolfdir is fine, always misplacing his alembic and asking the students to find it. The other's are good. Other than the increasing numbers of new students, there isn't much going on, really."
Thinking about J'zargo and the scroll made her chuckle; she remembered the time she'd used the scroll on a draugr and it had exploded right in her face. It had killed the draugr, but it almost injured her.
"His scroll almost got me killed, you know," Minerva admitted with a smirk.
Colette rolled her eyes and groaned, "I swear he's going to burn himself alive, one day. I just wish he'd stop and move onto something else."
Minerva laughed lightly at that and caught the grin stretching on Colette. As much as she showed her grumpy attitude, Minerva knew the restoration mage couldn't live without them. Colette was like a scolding mother to all of them and it was the reason why they loved her.
"Oh well, since you're in good health, there is no reason for me to stay," informed Colette.
"You're leaving?"
"Yes, I'll head back to the College, tell everyone you're good." Colette looked at Jarl Ulfric, "Thank you for your hospitality."
The Jarl nodded once to that and Colette looked back at Minerva. "Thank you for everything, Colette," she expressed, smiling.
The mage nodded and headed for the door, waving her hand at her. Silence filled the room once she left and Minerva realized only now the fire burned brightly in the hearth. She thought about what Colette had said, about her taking a few careful steps, and wondered whether she needed a little bit of training for her legs to regain their strength.
Without thinking too much she exhaled deeply and stood from the chair, holding onto the edge of the desk tightly. She felt as though she could stand effortlessly but didn't dare take another step yet, not until she was completely certain of her strength.
The Jarl moved from his spot and came to stand next to her, eying her legs. He didn't voice a word and didn't intervene as she decided to take a tentative step along the desk, still using it as leverage, and he followed. Usually she would be unnerved by him by now, but somehow she was grateful to have someone close as she was trying to regain her strength. It gave her a measure of security.
She came to the end of the desk and contemplated whether to continue on her own, to try and see how much strength returned by now. Hesitantly she progressed further and with each successful step she grew bolder and more confident in her strength. Jarl Ulfric was silently following her as she headed towards the door.
There was a carpet at the center of the room and she stumbled on its edge just as she was about to take another step. She recovered immediately, but the Jarl caught her hand and rested his other on her waist to steady her.
It was strange to be so close to him, feeling his hand on hers sent a bolt of nervousness up her arm. She inhaled and exhaled deeply as she concentrated to make another step. However, it became harder to think the more she became aware of him. The more she tried to block him out, the more she noticed he smelled of wood and steel, and how warm he was.
"I'm fine," she assured him, hoping he would let go of her hand. He did remove his hand from her waist but he refrained from letting hers go.
She focused on standing on her own, trying her best to ignore his gentle grip. There was no need for him to hold her anymore, she grew confident in her strength and knew she could stand on her own. Hesitantly she slid her hand out of his, holding her breath as she did so. Thankfully, he said nothing. Standing so close to him felt surreal, she somehow needed to get away from him.
"I have sent a guard for Nora," he spoke suddenly and calmly, "She should arrive shortly."
"May I ask," she started, her eyes lowered to his chest, "Why did you appoint her to keep an eye on my things?" The question rested on her mind since she'd met Nora for the first time and she wished to know the motive behind the idea.
"Are you not happy with her?" the Jarl wondered cautiously and she looked at him.
"No, it's not that," she calmly retorted and found his features relaxing a bit, "I just think I'm not that important to have someone clean after me."
"She doesn't clean after you," he calmly corrected and his gaze softened, "She is there in case you need assistance, to help you with whatever you need help with. Sometimes, it is good to have a helping hand."
She already suspected his intentions were sincere, even if she couldn't wholeheartedly believe it, but now that she heard it she felt bad for questioning his help, or doubting his sincerity.
"I was only wondering, my Jarl. I apologize," she said, somehow unable to break his gaze.
"You apologize for a lot of things," he remarked.
She was aware of how her glossy eyes locked on his, unashamed she took in his complexion as she became too enraptured to move or blink. Suddenly his presence wasn't as smothering as it used to be moments ago, rather it calmed her enough so that she grew comfortable around him. Too comfortable, she admitted as she inhaled deeply and her mind started to spin.
For a second, her mind threatened to slip into unconsciousness and she lost the strength in her legs, but the shock of it was enough to startle her awake. It was a mere second, but it was enough for both of them to react. Her hand flew instinctively to his chest to steady herself, grabbing a handful of his shirt as his hands came to her waist to prevent her fall. It took her a second to realize what happened, where her hand exactly was, and when it did pure embarrassment engulfed her as she stared up at him. She was holding onto him tightly as his fingers dug almost painfully into her waist.
"You need rest," he stated, and she couldn't agree more with him.
She let go of his shirt and he reluctantly withdrew his hands from her waist but didn't move from the spot. Her distant eyes were glued to the wrinkles of his shirt and although she appeared calm there was a storm raging inside of her. She was nervous and edgy, wanted nothing but to get away from him and his suddenly calming warmth.
Luckily, the doors opened and the guard from before stepped inside with Nora in tow. Nora immediately headed to Minerva, looking her over as though she tried to find whether she was hurt.
Minerva didn't look up, didn't dare risk facing the Jarl again; the earlier moment was weird enough, she didn't need to make it any weirder.
"See that the Dragonborn has everything she needs," the Jarl stated and she couldn't help but look at him.
A bolt shot through her heart as she found him looking at her with a dreamy look to his eyes, looking her over quickly before he departed. Her heart thundered until he finally closed the door and once alone with Nora, she calmed a little.
They headed to the vanity, Minerva took in her reflection and found the unpleasant changes in her face. Her cheeks weren't as round as she remembered, her under eyes were dark and it wasn't because of the poorly removed charcoal she'd put on more than a week ago. Her lips were pale and dry, same as the rest of her face and body.
She watched Nora place a kettle above the fireplace before she returned to the vanity, dragging a chair behind her to take a seat. The Nord woman took a comb and gently started to brush her black, wavy hair. Some strands she needed to pull apart with her fingers before she could brush them.
"The mage promised you would recover quickly, once you woke up." Nora admitted, "We've all been on edge waiting for you to open your eyes."
It was hard for her to think of Galmar and Ulfric worried about her well being. The general had probably hoped for her death and Jarl Ulfric didn't seem like a man worried about the lives of his warriors. Now that she thought of it however, it made her wonder how Colette had arrived at the palace in the first place. Someone had to have gotten to the College and asked for the restoration mage specifically, someone who knew Minerva had been at the College.
Perhaps Nora knew. "Do you know who brought the mage here?" she asked.
Nora furrowed her brows as she searched her memory. She exhaled deeply, her attention on Minerva's hair as she combed it. "It was a man, a rather handsome one. His name… divines, I can't remember it. Was it Rolf? Rolaf?"
"Ralof?" Minerva wondered with her brows furrowed, looking at Nora's reflection in the mirror.
Nora clicked her tongue, her face softening, "Ah, yes! Ralof! I saw him leading the mage to you once they had arrived."
She didn't know how to feel about the revelation. Seeing him back at the Falkreath camp made her happier than she liked to admit, but the thing's he'd said still hovered above her head like a black, rainy cloud. If the dragon hadn't arrived when it did they would probably be on better terms now. Also, the fact she hadn't allowed him to explain what exactly he'd meant rested heavily on her soul. She lashed out on him without giving him the chance to speak. Perhaps he needed to forgive her instead the other way around?
However, knowing he'd been responsible for bringing Colette to the palace made her uncomfortable. It was thanks to his effort she was still alive, yet she felt as though she didn't deserve his help.
Nora checked on the water in the kettle and found it warm enough to pour it into the basin near the vanity. She took a clean cloth and drenched it with water as Minerva removed her shirt. Nora was gentle as she ran the wet cloth over her back and underarms, and Minerva took another to clean her chest and stomach. She also used the cloth to clean her face of the charcoal.
Nora retrieved a fresh pair of clothes and helped her change into the leather grieves and leather vest. Once she was dressed, she helped her braid her hair from the top.
"You have very beautiful hair, my lady," Nora admired.
Nora hadn't been the first to admire her hair, Minerva inhaled deeply as she thought of the past, a strange melancholy twisting her gut uncomfortably. There had been a time she hated her hair because many Altmer women had expressed their admiration for it. Many times she wished to cut it, but somehow never came to do so. It was as though something had prevented her from doing so and after all the years she became used to it. She considered it a part of her, of who she was, and without it she felt as though she wouldn't be her own.
Thinking about it made her gloomy and instead she focused on Nora's gentle fingers threading her hair into a braid.
Nora didn't react to it and a comfortable silence fell between them. In the mirror she could see the flowers in the vase almost glowing in the barely lit room. They were freshly cut, same as always. She decided to find out where the Nord woman retrieved the flowers.
"You always find such beautiful flowers," she commented.
The Nord woman seemed eager to elaborate as her lips stretched into a smile, "I'm glad you like them. I'm not gathering them myself, though. I buy them from a girl."
"A girl is selling flowers?" Minerva couldn't help but wonder.
"Aye, she's gathering them just out of the snowy terrain of Eastmarch. Then returns and sells them near the harbor, mostly every day."
"Why would she do that?"
Nora sighed, "I don't know, but I think she's homeless. Her clothes look tattered and dirty, as though no one takes the time to clean it."
The revelation made her heart ache but it also gave her an idea.
"Could you bring me to her?" Minerva wondered, watching as Nora tied the braid with a black ribbon.
She hummed, "Sure, I can bring you to her."
Minerva made a sound of agreement and Nora stood up to place wood into the fire, before the two sat in front of the hearth. They didn't speak for a while, Minerva was consumed by the flames devouring the wood and blankly stared at it. Her mind was empty, she couldn't think of anything without having to fear a skull splitting headache so she instead focused on the fire.
A lot had happened and she needed time to regain her strength before she could resume her quest. She wondered about the others, about Lydia and Delphine and Lucia, and decided to write them a letter as soon as she got the chance to.
"May I ask you something?" Nora inquired carefully, and Minerva raised an eyebrow as she looked at her, surprised.
"Of course."
Nora readjusted in her seat, her hands in her lap, she seemed clearly uncomfortable and Minerva wondered why. Surely the question couldn't be that embarrassing?
"I've heard things," she stared carefully, her eyes on Minerva's face searching for any reaction, "That the Thalmor harmed you. Is that true?"
A bolt of uneasiness shot through her and she averted her focus to the flames. As uncomfortable the subject made her, Minerva knew the Nord woman had no cruel intentions. It was pure curiosity, to ask about something as difficult as this, and Minerva inhaled deeply to steel her nerves.
"Yes," she answered, and partly hoped the repartee would end there but also knew it was just the beginning.
"How?" came the simple question. Minerva looked back at her, silently waiting to hear what made her that curious. "I mean I heard they have tortured you, but I haven't seen any scars."
So she'd been looking at her body to find any evidence of her misery. As though she needed a scar to prove her past life wasn't a lie.
Minerva smiled bitterly as she tapped her finger at her temple, grimly stating, "Because the damage is here," indicating that the damage inflicted was mostly to her mind.
From the blank look in Nora's eyes however, she knew the Nord woman couldn't exactly picture what Minerva wanted to state. She decided to give her a slice of the truth.
"The elves didn't use violence as their main source of torture. In fact, I have never received a single beating from them through all the years. But they made me do disgusting things, have used the power of illusion to play with my mind.
"I was a child when I was forced to watch them have intercourse with each other so I could learn to satisfy their needs, so they could live out their fantasies and do whatever disgusting thing came to their mind."
The rage was bubbling. The anger, the hate, the fear, the misery, everything threatened to overflow. It was very hard for her to remain calm and unveil more about what the Thalmor had done to her.
"They've starved me, drowned me, isolated me for days, but they never hurt me physically. And that, my dear Nora, is why I don't have any scars."
Nora looked like she would cry any minute, but held it back with all her might. Minerva held her gaze for a few heartbeats before averting it to the flames, feeling the lump in her throat grow.
With time it became easier to remember these things without turning into a crying mess. It took a lot of willpower and strength to resist the urge to pity herself and cry, but Minerva decided long ago not to be hindered by her past. She wouldn't let the Altmer who'd tortured her define who she was, she would define herself new and make her actions speak for herself.
She could still feel Nora's gaze on her profile, but refrained from looking at her. She needed to calm her heartbeat, first.
"You are a strong woman." Nora's words pulled Minerva's lips into a small smile. "The strongest I know. To live such a life but not to be crushed by it… you have the willpower and strength of a dragon."
Minerva exhaled shakily and looked at Nora, the small smile still present. "I try," she admitted, the smile saddening more and more.
Nora pulled the chair closer to Minerva and faced her, taking Minerva's one hand in both of hers. Her grip was strong yet it didn't hurt as Nora's glossy eyes found Minerva's.
"The divines were with you through everything, they gave you strength and courage. I respect you for what you've survived, as I'm certain everyone else will. Everyone can only hope to have a fraction of the courage and strength you've gathered throughout your bloody journey."
Minerva watched her hand safely held between Nora's and the words lifted the barrage holding back her feelings. The tears and emotions overflowed her and Minerva was pulled into a heartwarming embrace. She cried into Nora's shoulder, silently, feeling as though a thousand bricks were lifted off her shoulders.
Minerva remembered the last time she'd cried on her mother's shoulder, the thought sending another wave of tears cascading down her cheeks. How she wished to see her parents again, to talk to them and see them age together. Everything had been taken from her, her childhood and family and friends. That village had been her entire world until it was burned to ashes, leaving nothing but distant, painful memories.
It felt good to cry on someone's shoulder and not alone in the woods. With each tear she felt as though she gathered new strength.
After a while she calmed enough to break the hug and wiped the tears away. With her head lowered, she admitted a little ashamed, "I only just realized how much I needed this," before looking up at Nora. "Thank you."
"I told you once I will help anyway I can," Nora reminded, her cheeks wet and voice shaking, "You can count on me."
The two women sat by the fireplace until sunrise, Nora wanted to leave eventually but Minerva offered her bed for her to sleep in. After a minor discussion the Nord woman accepted and Minerva left the room, heading towards the great hall, unable to sleep.
She'd calmed enough to return to the world again, only to find the hall empty, except for Jorleif. He was sitting at the grant table, eating fruits and sweetroll's, his attention glued to one of the parchments strewn before him. When he heard her footsteps he looked up and a beaming smile greeted her as he stood from his seat.
"Lady Dragonborn, it is a relief to see you in perfect health," he greeted, then fell into a curtsy. Minerva's smile stretched as she fell into a curtsy as well. Jorleif's shiny mood could banish even the greatest darkness.
"Good morning, Jorleif. I hope you are well?"
Jorleif nodded, "I can't complain, my lady. The city is much more at ease after the butcher has been slain. Though other problems seem to wait at our doorstep."
Minerva crossed her arms, intrigued by his revelation. "What do you mean, if I may ask?"
Jorleif sighed and it seemed for a second he would not tell her of it. He rubbed his hands together, hesitant to speak about it, but Minerva was glad when he decided to inform her. "Bah, to hell with it. The Dunmer are unhappy with their current state in the Grey Quarters. The guards have caught sight of secret gatherings, they fear a riot."
Minerva's brows furrowed, a riot was the last thing the Jarl needed in his city. If he had to quell the riot while he waged war, she couldn't even imagine the problems he would run into. She'd heard of the Dunmer and their problems, and while she didn't think that ignoring them would solve the problems, it was only a matter of time until such a thing were to happen if he remained ignorant.
Minerva promised Jorleif to look into it and the Jarl's steward thanked her wholeheartedly, but when her stomach groaned again she couldn't delay her request any longer. "Jorleif, is there a chance I could have something to eat? I'm starving."
The stewards' eyes widened before he nodded, "Of course my lady! Breakfast will be ready soon!"
She sighed and couldn't stop the smile from showing. "Thank you Jorleif."
A guard came to him and whispered something to Jorleif. Minerva was curious and when the guard left, Jorleif gave her his undivided attention when he informed, "Actually, the Jarl just invited you to have breakfast with him. Please, let me escort you."