Minerva didn't know where Jorleif was taking her, but they headed through an unknown part of the palace. She tried her best to memorize the hallways and stairs they took, and once they reached the end of the hallway Jorleif knocked gently on the wooden door before he entered, leaving Minerva to wait. She didn't know how to feel about the Jarl's invitation to have breakfast with him, but she was too hungry to give a damn about it. She needed food.
Jorleif returned and nodded that she could enter before he made his way back from where they came. Exhaling deeply, Minerva entered and found she was in the kitchens. There was a huge oven and numerous counters as the cook prepared the food. The Jarl already sat at the table, a mug in his hand and flask within his reach, numerous fruits served across the table.
"Dragonborn," he called, "Good morning. Have a seat."
There was one chair opposite of him and she closed the door behind her before she took the offered seat. A young woman appeared with a silver flask, putting the mug on the table next to Minerva before filling it. She immediately noticed the young woman was an Altmer.
Seeing the Altmer woman fill her mug turned her stomach unpleasantly, even though she'd done nothing to raise her suspicion. She averted her attention back to the Jarl, ignoring the woman completely. Thankfully, she quickly left.
"My Jarl," she said with a bow of her head, "Good morning."
Minerva glanced at her surroundings from time to time and found she was too distracted by the Altmer woman. As much as she wished to look anywhere but her, her eyes were drawn to her involuntarily.
"You look rested," Jarl Ulfric commented, pulling her focus to him.
Minerva nodded, "Yes, my Jarl. My strength is slowly coming back."
"No doubt you are eager to resume your quest to slay the World-Eater?" he questioned.
Minerva smirked, crossing her legs as she leaned back into the chair. "I am more eager to fight the Thalmor, honestly. But Alduin will pay sooner or later, for what that dragon did to me."
The Jarl smirked as well, raising his mug silently to that before he drank. Not long after, the cook appeared with the young woman, serving the freshly prepared food. Minerva glared at the woman all the while she made sure everything was at the correct place. The woman was young, probably barely into adulthood but Minerva knew the Thalmor didn't care about age. It made her wonder how the Jarl could sleep peacefully at night knowing an Altmer was working in the palace.
There was a fresh made loaf, stew, dried meat, cooked meat and cooked vegetables, as well as fresh. The food looked delicious and her stomach growled in response to the various scents.
"Is there anything else I can get you, my lady?" the Altmer woman asked and Minerva fidgeted in her seat, finding the food less and less inviting.
How she hated their voices, their posture and everything evolving around them and their 'superiority'. Even though the question was sincere and with no mean intentions, Minerva couldn't tame the rage threatening to claim her. Her closed fists were in her lap, shaking with suppressed rage, as she fought to stay calm with every ounce of her being.
"There is enough on the table," Jarl Ulfric spoke suddenly, pulling Minerva's mind out of the hate that threatened to swallow her. Her wide eyes were directed at him instead of the Altmer woman. Oddly, he was looking at Minerva.
The young woman bowed and left, along with the cook. With them gone the tension slowly evaporated and Minerva's heartbeat calmed by the second. A few heartbeats passed without them saying anything for which she was grateful. She needed a few moments to gather her thoughts and calm her nerves. When she exhaled sharply, she felt as though the earlier moment never happened.
Jarl Ulfric took the mug and raised it, stating, "May we drive the Empire out of Skyrim, and may you slay the World-Eater." His toast pulled her lips into a forced smile and their mugs clashed before they both took a generous sip.
Now with the Altmer gone, she felt a little bit more at ease and looked over the food displayed before her. Minerva didn't know which food to take first, everything looked delicious. The Jarl slowly filled his plate as she decided to take a slice of cooked boar meat, along with cooked vegetables. They ate in a comfortable silence, she spared him a few glances from time to time only to find him focused on the food.
"You will get used to them."
She stopped chewing and lifted her eyes from the plate to him as he spoke suddenly, her mouth full and mood foul. She sat upright and met his gaze, chewing the remaining food in her mouth until she swallowed.
He took a gulp from his drink and slowly put the mug back, explaining, "It will take some time, but you will get used to the elves."
"I don't think so," she retorted, trying her best to sound respectful. "I don't plan to get used to them, nor do I want to."
She resumed eating although her appetite slowly started to dissipate. Talking about the Altmer in general unnerved her. She was aware that many Altmer had lived in Skyrim for generations and a lot of them also despised the Thalmor just as much, but it wasn't enough to trust them. As hard as she wanted to deny it, she couldn't erase the fact she hated every one of them.
Faralda, for example. That woman had been nothing but kind to her after their somewhat rough start, but whenever she was around her Minerva would feel the hairs on the back of her neck stand in alertness, despite knowing she could trust her. She'd met a lot of Altmer during her time in Vvardenfell, Cyrodiil and Skyrim, trusted even some of them, but that didn't stop her from expecting a dagger in her back.
Even Jarl Ulfric had suffered from the hands of the Thalmor. How could he have an Altmer in the Palace so close to him and sleep peacefully at night? She couldn't understand it.
He seemed to sense her distress because he started to explain further, "Many of them have lived in Skyrim for generations. We cannot put them in the same boat as the Thalmor."
Minerva knew that. She sat upright, releasing the food from her fingers a bit roughly into the plate. "I know that, Jarl Ulfric," she spoke, the respect she wanted to maintain slowly fading, "Still, I would be cautious to trust them. The Thalmor know how to get everyone on their side."
She felt slightly victorious for voicing her thoughts but she only wished the circumstances were different. The frown on his face deepened slightly as he released the food from his hands.
"Are you suggesting not to trust Eyla?" he inquired.
Minerva didn't want to know the woman's name, didn't have the desire to know it. It didn't erase the fact she was an Altmer and there was always a small chance she could be a Thalmor spy.
She thought and remained silent for a few heartbeats. It wasn't hers to tell him whether he needed to trust her or not, she didn't know the woman and she didn't know him, nor did she know how long she'd been at the palace. She couldn't see past the fact she was an Altmer working in the palace and that didn't sit well with her.
However, she needed to calm her nerves, it wasn't hers to tell him whom he needed to trust or not.
"No, my Jarl. I am merely stating to be careful. I do not intend to lecture you. I apologize if it seemed that way."
She resumed eating, very aware of his eyes resting on her as she bit into the piece of cooked meat, eyes on the plate. She hoped the discussion would end and they would both eat in peace, and find out why she was invited.
"Eyla's family has lived in Windhelm for generations," he explained calmly, "They were helping around the palace since I was a lad."
She took the flask a bit forcefully and poured the ale into her mug, her attention on the task as her mood turned bitter. Frustration clouded her mind and her tongue was faster than her brain.
"But that is how the Thalmor operate," she started, putting the flask back with a loud thud. The Jarl's frown deepened even more, her eyes moving to him as she added, "They promise mountains of gold and privileges to the ones who can't afford them, only to use them to their benefit."
"Earlier you said you wouldn't lecture me," he reminded her and she stopped eating, lifting her attention from the food to him. His eyes were inspecting her skeptically. He didn't look happy.
"I'm not," she said, then took a sip from her drink, looking at him past the mug before gently placing it down.
He exhaled, clearly irritated, as the vein on his forehead appeared. He resumed eating his food although his earlier calmness was gone. There was nothing calming about the way he ate the food as though he could release all the frustration on it.
It surprised her to find him so defensive of the woman, as though he could blindly trust her. Minerva couldn't share the same measure of trust towards an Altmer, not anytime soon. Her mood fouled and she lost her appetite completely, the frustration clouding the rational part of her mind.
Her tongue was faster than her brain again when she started, "No one can predict the Thalmor, sadly. They have cruel ways to get their way."
He didn't say anything, but she realized her comment didn't sit quite well with him. The way his shoulders tensed and how his brows furrowed showed he became all the more frustrated.
It would be a good time to leave the conversation at that, but she couldn't leave the table without voicing the reason behind her irritation. She was a Nord and Nords spoke what was on their mind.
"Perhaps she's only waiting for the right time to poison your meal," she let the statement hang in the air. She couldn't tell whether he was angry, frustrated or both, but she couldn't clamp her mouth shut. "Perhaps even this meal is poisoned. She could get rid of both the Dragonborn and the leader of the rebellion. It would be a huge success-"
The slam of his open fist on the table enough for her to shut her mouth and knock over a flask. Her heart thudded wildly at his sudden outburst. Madness was written on his face and Minerva clamped her mouth shut, her courage suddenly vanished as she was under the Jarl's hateful gaze.
Utter silence filled the huge kitchen space. No one spoke for quite a while. From the way he looked at her, breathing heavily and angry, she expected anything to happen.
His voice was low and collected when he warned, "I know very well whom to trust, Dragonborn. Don't lecture me in my own damn palace, where I know all of the people since I was a lad."
She lowered her eyes to the now ruined food. He was right. The conversation went out of control and she was to blame for it.
"I know very well who the Thalmor are and how they operate," he said, "I know they have their eyes on me, but I also know whom I can trust."
It took a few seconds until he calmed, sighing heavily as he readjusted in his seat.
She opened her mouth to speak as she finally looked at him, but she didn't know what to say. Her appetite was gone, the tasty food now disarranged on the table and stained with ale. She tapped her lips clean with the napkin, deciding it would be best to leave.
"There is a reason why I have called you, Dragonborn."
Her eyes flew to his after his admission, only to find him staring at her. His features were tight, but he didn't look like he was angry anymore. She felt uncomfortable under his prying gaze but bravely refused to break it. Patiently and silently she waited for him to reveal the reason behind the invitation, and grew more anxious by the second the more he refused to speak.
His shoulders slumped with the sigh he heaved and he looked towards the kitchen, away from her.
He'd deliberately avoided her gaze when he admitted, "But perhaps it would be better if you leave," which took her by surprise.
Casting one last look at the disarranged food on the table, she stood from her seat and left without sparing him another glance. She was curious to know what exactly he'd had in mind and was disappointed everything had escalated that quickly. It hadn't been in her interest to anger or insult him. Whatever he'd had in mind would have to wait for another time, if and when he was willing to reveal the reason.
When the door closed behind her she tried to remember the way back to the great hall. Luckily, she'd found Nora on the way and the two women returned to Minerva's room in the Palace, but they didn't stay there for long.
The two agreed to take a walk through the city, the fresh air would do Minerva good and help her clear her thoughts, and while they were at it they would head to Sofie.
When they stepped into the great hall again, they were greeted by Jorleif who was oddly surprised to see Minerva.
"My lady?"
Jorleif called out to her hesitantly and Minerva gave him her undivided attention.
"Yes?"
"You returned quickly," he remarked, "I thought the Jarl had something important to speak to you about?"
Even Jorleif seemed well indulged into the matter which frustrated her even more. However, she suspected if it had been something of great importance the Jarl would have spoken to her about it, regardless of their argument.
"The matter was swiftly cleared, Jorleif," she answered instead, but that didn't seem to convince him.
Minerva had no desire to wait whatever would follow, so she headed for the palace gates, followed by Nora. The two stepped outside and Minerva followed Nora to the little girl, Sofie.
They passed the majority of the city but Minerva wasn't paying much attention to her surroundings. Instead she thought about the breakfast with the Jarl and just how quickly it escalated, thanks to her provocation. Clearly, they had both overreacted, but she went too far. She'd pushed his buttons on purpose and didn't know what she was expecting. He'd lost it because of her and she needed to apologize for her behaviour.
He deserved her apology after he'd taken care of her in the early morning hours. He'd chosen to be there with her after all, she couldn't forget that. She clearly remembered how gentle he was, how patient and calm, not once moving from her side. He'd smelled of smoke and wood, she remembered, and inhaled as though she hoped to catch the same scent again.
She wondered whether he was a completely different person when alone and wondered if she would ever know.
"There."
They came to a stop and Nora nudged her shoulder, successfully pulling her attention to the present. Minerva looked at what Nora was pointing at; a small girl dressed in layers of cloth that barely resembled a dress, holding a basket of flowers, calling for the bypassing people to buy them.
Her heart contorted. She remembered Lucia, how she'd begged near the great tree in Whiterun with the people ignoring her as best they could. But Lucia had luck, the innkeeper had invited her to stay during the night for free. This girl, Sofie, had no such luck.
Nora told Minerva to wait and the Nord woman approached the child. Sofie's face lit up as she saw her and the two fell in a conversation. Nora then pointed with her thumb over her shoulder at Minerva, Sofie gave her a reluctant once over before she nodded. Minerva approached with a smile even though all she wanted was to cry as she looked at the tattered, dirty clothes and thin shoes that could in no way block the cold.
"Hello Sofie," said Minerva as she crouched before the girl. "I'm Minerva, pleased to meet you."
"Hello, pretty lady," Sofie greeted back, falling into a curtsy.
Minerva kept her eyes on the child's face, noticing the dirt and few bruises on her forehead. She took her tiny, cold hand in hers and the girl visibly tensed but refrained from pulling the hand back. "Tell me, why are you out here? Where are your parents?"
Sofie kept her eyes to the ground as she spoke, her voice so small Minerva could barely hear it over the wind. "They're… dead. My mama died when I was little, I don't remember her very well. My father was a Stormcloak soldier. One day, he left and… he didn't come back."
The smile was wiped from Minerva's face, her throat suddenly too tight to speak. This girl was homeless because her father had left her behind to fight for the rebellion. She could imagine all the children that had lost their parents because of the war, and knew that was the price of war. But to see it first-hand made her furious.
Minerva's mind was already set and there was no one, no man or deity, that could change her mind or talk her out of it.
Smiling, Minerva spoke, "If you would like, I have a place for you to stay," and there was a light sparkling in the girls eyes, though she remained hesitant.
"Where is it, pretty lady?" she asked, the joy suppressed behind the cautious sparkle in her eyes standing out more and more.
"I have a room at the palace of the Kings," Minerva explained, "I want you to stay there with me."
"Really?!" The gleam of hope in Sofie's eyes banished every little ounce of doubt Minerva felt. She would come with her, and if the Jarl had any objections she would return to Whiterun with the girl and leave the palace. She didn't know if the Jarl would even care, but she couldn't just turn away from Sofie and leave her to beg for the rest of her days.
"Minerva…" Nora called cautiously, "What will the Jarl say of this?"
Sofie didn't hear her, she was too happy to pay any attention to them. The girl was humming softly and Minerva averted her focus back to Nora.
She tried to sound as calm as possible, even though the determination burned brightly in her heart. "There is nothing he could say to change my mind. If he throws her out, I'm going too. Simple."
The three headed back to the palace, Minerva gently held Sofie's hand all the way back, feeling her small, cold fingers made her all the more determined to help the girl. Once they reached the gates, Minerva crouched before Sofie, earning her full attention.
"Sofie," Minerva started softly, "You'll politely greet the Jarl, then I'll take you with me. It will be your new home for the time being."
Sofie smiled, but the smile quickly died and Minerva feared she'd said something that insulted the girl. But Sofie was quick to explain as she lowered her gaze, "You mean until there is a family that could adopt me?"
The sadness in her voice tore at Minerva's soul and she was quick to dispel her fears. "Not really. I have a girl who would love to have a sister."
Sofie slowly lifted her eyes from the ground to look at her; her glistening eyes and her trembling lip made it hard for Minerva to keep her own tears at bay. She threw her arms around Minerva's neck, holding on to her tightly as she sniffed.
Minerva shut her eyes and held the girl in a loving embrace before she broke the hug, looking back with the brightest smile Minerva had ever seen.
"Thank you! I promise I'll be good!"
Minerva stood and looked at Nora, she was smiling but there was a shadow of doubt on her face, as though she was afraid of the Jarl's reaction. Minerva shared no such fears; if he was to yell at her and throw her out, then so be it. She wouldn't leave the girl no matter what.
The three stepped inside and Minerva immediately spotted the Jarl sitting on the throne, with Jorleif close. She hadn't seen him since the incident earlier and knew she needed to apologize, but first she needed to clear the matter evolving around Sofie. The girl had lost her father because of the rebellion the Jarl himself had instigated; the least he could do was allow her to stay.
Jorleif was the first to spot them but when the Jarl lifted his eyes from the parchment in hand to them, she had no idea how to identify that look. His eyes repeatedly flew from her to Sofie and back, but his expression remained unchanged. They stopped close to the throne and Sofie fell into a curtsy with Minerva standing right behind her, her hands on Sofie's shoulders.
"My Jarl," she greeted with a bow of her head, then explained further, "This is Sofie. The girl has nowhere to go, and thus I humbly ask you for her to stay in my room until I find further accommodation for her."
Out of respect she asked for his permission, but her piercing gaze showed the matter was not debatable. Sofie would stay here with her, or Minerva would show him the finger and leave the palace. The outcome was up to him.
The Jarl's undivided attention was solely on her, searching her face for any further explanation. When he found none, he wondered, "And who is this girl, exactly?" sounding as unhappy as he looked.
Sofie's voice was barely heard through the huge hall, her eyes lowered to the floor when she explained, "My father was Uric Raven-Blood, my Jarl," and Minerva watched the Jarl's features paling visibly.
Without arguing the matter any further, he gave a firm nod and clarified, "You may stay in the room with the Dragonborn, child."
Sofie's eyes were wide as she looked up to Minerva with a huge grin on her face, Minerva met her grin with a smile but in the back of her mind, she couldn't help but wonder why the Jarl suddenly changed his mind. Seconds earlier, he'd looked insulted and she thought he would throw them both out. There had to be more to this as Minerva looked at the Jarl from underneath her brows.
He was avoiding her gaze as he focused on the parchment, dismissing them with a loud, "You're dismissed," and the women guided Sofie to where she would stay.
When Sofie stepped inside the spacious room, she looked in awe. "Wow, that's where I'll stay?!"
"Do you like it?" asked Minerva as she placed the fur cloak and cape on the desk, forgotten.
"Of course!" Sofie nodded hastily, the smile never leaving her face.
They spent the rest of the evening talking and getting to know each other, Nora left eventually leaving the two alone. Minerva had asked Jorleif to arrange a bath for the girl and he helped without hesitation. She combed Sofie's hair and Minerva chose a comfortable, cotton shirt the girl could sleep in. The two snuggled on the bed and Sofie was asleep quickly. However, Minerva had no such luck and after she placed a gentle kiss on Sofie's head she headed outside the room.
She'd left a sleeping, softly snoring Sofie behind and made her way towards the palace hall. Jorleif was there and Minerva inquired whether there was a study in the palace. Jorleif nodded and escorted her to the study, leaving her in front of the door after they arrived. Quietly she opened the door and stepped inside, and found that a lone candle was burning in the corner. A figure was hunched over the table reading something, and when she recognized it was the Jarl of Windhelm himself, she contemplated whether to leave.
This would be a good opportunity to apologize for her behaviour, but since Jorleif didn't know the Jarl was here she guessed he wished to be alone. However, she wouldn't disturb him and she turned for the door.
"Feel free to use the study as you wish," came his calm remark. She barely recognized his voice. "You do not disturb me."
Although she rather wanted to leave, she found it would be thoughtless to do so after his invitation. Sighing softly, she stepped into the study and pulled the door close, wordlessly heading to the closest bookshelf. With her back to him, she inspected the books. Nothing particular caught her attention until she found the book An Accounting of the Scrolls and decided to read it. She took her seat near the windows, far enough from the Jarl, and she focused on the words in the book. It was interesting and its content helped her shut out her surroundings.
It wasn't until the Jarl stood up after what felt like half an hour that she tore her attention from the book. He'd moved to the display case, grabbed a flask and poured himself whatever was inside into a mug. He'd kept his back to her as he did so, saying, "Ale?" and she understood he was offering her a mug of ale. Maybe it would loosen them up a little?
She shot the book close and abandoned it on the desk as she stood up, erasing the space between them before she took the offered goblet. Oddly, he'd poured his drink into a simple mug, whereas hers was in a beautiful silver goblet. "Thank you," she thanked.
They both took a sip from their drink as they gazed out the windows, watching the snow storm raging outside. The fire in the hearth burned brightly and warmed the entire room. A few torches and candles were lit around the walls and tables, but it wasn't enough to illuminate the room completely. It was a comfortable atmosphere to read she thought, calming and serene. It had a positive effect on her mood and she wasn't as anxious around him.
"She seemed familiar to me," he spoke suddenly, "I couldn't place where I've seen her face before, but when she mentioned her father's name, I could practically see him."
Minerva slowly averted her gaze to the Jarl standing next to her, admiring the color and shape of hair as she listened. He took another sip from his mug before adding, "Uric was one of the best soldier's I've worked with."
"You knew him?" she inquired, intrigued to know where he'd met Sofie's father.
"He died in my arms," he stated grimly and Minerva winced inwardly. "The Imperials ambushed us at Darkwater Crossing. We had put up a fight, but their numbers increased until we were outnumbered. Few of my soldier's had died, including Uric, before I had ordered them to put their weapons down. They took us to our execution, and you've seen the rest." He took another sip; the hand holding the mug was shaking as he recalled the memory, drinking the mug empty. His gaze fixed on the window as though he was reliving the scene.
He continued, "He's told me of his daughter the night before, and I promised him he would see her again. What a terrible liar I am." He looked at her then and the nearby candle casted disturbing shadows over his solemn features. "Where did you find her?"
"Nora found her. She's told me of a girl selling flowers near the harbor. I've asked her to bring me to her."
The Jarl nodded to her answer as he took the flask and poured the last drops of ale into his mug.
When he drank the mug empty he abandoned it on the windowsill, wiping his mouth clean with the back of his hand. Unabashed she stared at him, noticing just how troubled he seemed, as though he'd blamed himself for Sofie's fate. Uric had probably been a good friend to him.
Minerva softly stated, "It wasn't your fault," but he didn't react to her statement, simply continued to look out the window, his jaw working and temple pulsing.
Silence fell in the room and she had the urge to change the course of the conversation, hoping somehow to relieve the tension in the room. "She won't stay in the palace for long. As soon as I find a suitable home for purchase, she will come with me," she admitted, and found the tension seemed to evaporate.
Ulfric kept his gaze forward when he asked, "Are you to adopt her?"
Her answer was a firm and simple, "Yes."
A few heartbeats passed in silence before he moved, slowly and suddenly, taking a small neatly rolled parchment out from the pocket of his shirt, secured with a wax seal of Windhelm.
Minerva hesitantly accepted it from him as he stated, "You won't have to look long for a property," confusing her even more.
She broke the seal and unrolled the parchment; her eyes widened when she read 'Ownership deed' and further read that Hjerim now belonged to her.
Surprise widened her features as she looked at him, but she quickly rolled the parchment and handed it back to him, stating, "I cannot accept this."
Slowly he turned to face her and Minerva swallowed nervously. He'd looked insulted, as though she called him the worst names known to humanity. She tried to calm her heartbeat, but the way he looked made her wary of him.
"Are you denying the wish of a Jarl?"
Minerva was caught off guard with his sudden change and didn't know how to react to his authoritative stance. When she answered a low, "No, my Jarl," he huffed.
"Then take the deed. You and Sofie deserve a home in Windhelm. The people of Windhelm are honored to count you as one of her citizens."
Something clicked in her mind, pieces falling together. She couldn't help but wonder, "Is that why you invited me to breakfast this morning?"
The Jarl nodded and answered a simple, "Aye," and Minerva couldn't help but feel bad about her behaviour. Now was a good time to apologize.
Inhaling sharply, she confessed, "I have to apologize for my behaviour, my Jarl," as she lowered her gaze to his chest, "I overstepped my boundaries. I shouldn't have spoken as I have."
He said nothing and it made her nervous. She gathered her courage and moved her eyes up to find him watching her. As the seconds passed, she felt as though he was waiting for her to say something.
Minerva wasn't ashamed of staring at the Jarl of Windhelm, the Bear of Markarth, right in his eyes.
She decided to confess something, "During my time on the Summerset Isles, I learned to understand the elves through their gestures and through the look in their eyes." She took a deep breath, hating how the memory circulated the fear inside of her. "I didn't understand their language, I didn't even care to learn. But I could figure out what they wanted when they looked at me a certain way."
He was watching her silently, absorbing every of her words but she was getting away from her point, from what she wanted to tell him. "I learned that the eyes of both Man and Mer reflected more than they liked to admit. It has helped me through a lot of situations unscathed."
"What do you see in mine?" he asked calmly, his voice soft and barely recognizable.
Suddenly, everything vanished around her as she freely stared right back at him. Her heartbeat elevated, her mouth suddenly dry as she caught his eyes wandered freely over her face. There was a dreamy look on him and she wondered what he was thinking about.
"I'm not certain," she admitted, and found his brows furrow a bit. She'd kept her voice low when she admitted, "Sometimes, there is a spark in them, bright enough to ignite the courage within everyone. But sometimes, that spark is missing… as though you're losing faith."
He seemed lost for a second, but he recovered quickly and wondered, "What makes you think I lost faith?" sounding a bit harsher than he did before, but there was no anger behind his words. It was pure curiosity, and since he wished to know she decided to be honest with him.
"Even the most courageous men are haunted by a darkness that threatens to swallow them. And I think you have been through it all… my Jarl."
She couldn't even imagine the loss and agony and fear he'd faced throughout his life. He was a brave man, Minerva had no doubt of it, but she couldn't help but feel as though he'd seen and been through the worst.
He looked as though he was thinking about her statement, the wheels were turning behind his eyes. But the way his face tensed if only a little, as though he was suppressing his frustration, made her courage start to falter. His presence suddenly wasn't as calming as it had been mere seconds ago, instead it started to choke her. What if she said the wrong things, she started to wonder. Thinking she might have insulted him in some way made her heart race in panic.
She decided to head back to her room and check on Sofie; she needed to get away from him.
"Excuse me, my Jarl," she spoke, voice trembling, "I'll need to get back and check on Sofie."
She moved past him and was very aware of his eyes following her every step; it was as though a wraith had decided to haunt her until she finally exited the room and closed the door behind her. She exhaled deeply, trying to clear the fog from her mind before she hurried back to her room, looking past her shoulder every few steps in distress he might follow her.
The anxiety left her the moment she quietly stepped into her room, relieved she found Sofie still sleeping soundly. She removed her boots and placed them aside before she slowly climbed into the bed. Sofie readjusted but kept sleeping, and Minerva made herself comfortable as well, resting her head on the soft pillow. It had been a long day with a lot to process, and she fell asleep quickly with the Jarl of Windhelm crossing her mind.