Chapter 14: A Slight Hitch

I had nearly left Dragonsreach by the time I remembered I needed to speak to Proventus about buying a house.

Mere steps from the great doors leading outside, I closed my eyes and breathed a deep, composing breath, before I turned back to attend to my second reason for being there. Lydia and Lucia were relying on me.

The way Farengar had played me resounded within me like a clear, mocking peal. He had given me no assistance, no answers, and despite the warmer welcome when I had arrived, by the end of our discussion he had reverted to his impatient, condescending self.

I pushed all he had said (and not said) aside with a mental shove. Farengar had given me no timeline in which to complete his task, so I did not have to rush out and retrieve the Dragonstone at once. Perhaps I could ignore the request entirely and conduct my own research into why I had understood what the dragon had said; I owed Farengar nothing.

I would have to decide later. Nearing Proventus, I swept into a brief curtsy. The Jarl was in session now, and I felt his attention settle on us with interest while I petitioned his steward.

Proventus was wary and stated the obvious - I was not my father - but gratefully - as I had hoped - Jarl Balgruuf intervened.

"Proventus, I am not opposed to her scheme," he mused from his throne. "I even see merit in it."

We turned to him. Proventus was clearly surprised that the Jarl had taken an interest in the negotiation. "My Jarl?"

He was watching me, his manner relaxed but his eyes sharp. "I see greatness in you, Celeste," he continued openly, idly, then glanced away, casually resting his arm on the side of his throne.

"Thank you, Jarl Balgruuf," I dipped my head as my heart fluttered. What, exactly, did he expect of me?

As though he could sense my discomfort, the corner of his mouth lifted and he turned his eyes toward the hearth. "Do not be afraid. It pleases me that Samuel's daughter might someday consider Whiterun to be her home; that is all."

"But of course," Proventus bowed, his voice steadier; moderate. "If the Jarl has no opposition, we can certainly do business. In fact, I know just the place," he held his hand up in realisation, then told me to wait while he collected the portfolio.

With a swiftness that made my head spin a little, matters were settled over the acquisition of a small, vacant cottage next to his daughter's shop. Within the hour, I had left Dragonsreach with a weighty envelope.

I met Lydia and Lucia in the Mare's common room and, still a little overwhelmed, shared the good news.

Lydia gaped. "You...already? It's ours?"

I nodded; pleased to see Lucia was not only clean but also wearing a new dress, thick stockings, and sturdy, sensible shoes. I tried to swallow my elation, but couldn't stop grinning after I slid the envelope across the table to Lydia. In it were several keys, papers for us to sign, and instructions on where to transfer the gold.

Lucia frowned, glancing between us cautiously. "What's happening?"

Lydia mustn't have told her what I had been out arranging. I flashed my smile Lydia's way. As she was to become the girl's guardian – no, mother, I would leave the honour to her.

"Once the money has been transferred, Proventus will update the deed," I explained, nodding toward the keys. "But he said we could move in right away. It's titled 'Breezehome', and is next to Warmaiden's."

Lydia opened the envelope and peered inside, glancing at me uncertainly. "We? So, he knows the house will be mine, and still agreed to it?"

I half shrugged, not wanting to mention the Jarl's intervention. "Proventus understands that you will live there. It's hardly his business," I rolled my eyes. "Your name will be on the legal documents, right next to mine."

Lydia sat back, apparently speechless, and her eyes widened.

But Lucia spoke up, this time a little sadly. "You bought a house?"

"Lydia has," I gave a pointed, prompting glance to the housecarl.

Lydia nodded, recovering smoothly as she turned to the little girl. "Celeste has secured me the home I thought I would never own. I didn't mention it earlier, in case nothing came of it," she admitted, then faltered, but the uncertainty was gone in a flash as her eyes brightened.

She reached into the envelope, and when she withdrew, a key was in her grasp. She wordlessly slid it sideways, leaving it in front of Lucia.

She stared at the key for a beat, then glanced up to Lydia expectantly. "I don't understand," she wavered, though the tears in her eyes and quiver to her bottom lip told me that she understood more than she was letting on, but didn't dare to hope.

Lydia laughed softly, but behind it I caught a nervousness I hadn't seen in the woman before. "I was wondering," she began with a tilt of her head; the collection of braids brushed her shoulder; "if you would like to live there with me? We could look out for each other."

Lucia burst into tears, making both Lydia and I jump. Before either of us could attempt to comfort her, she darted out of her seat and threw her arms around Lydia's neck. The words "thank you" were discernible through her heavy sobs.

While Lydia laughed and hugged Lucia, I sat back and turned away, smiling as a tickle crept into my throat. This happiness - this hope - I was grateful to have been a part of it. I wanted to give them some privacy, but I couldn't leave until we'd signed the papers and delivered them back to Dragonsreach in exchange for the deed.

After Lucia composed herself we did just that, and before noon, we unlocked the snug little cottage and got to work. It was dusty with disuse, and near empty of furniture - but with a little light and love, they would make this house a home.

Lucia was bouncing with excitement. Lydia tasked her with opening all of the windows to circulate air while she and I worked on lighting the hearth.

"How did your meeting with Farengar go?" she asked idly - too idly - once the wood had taken hold.

I sighed, sitting back and staring at the flames. During the excitement of procuring Breezehome, I'd been able to put Farengar out of my mind.

"That bad?" Lydia laughed kindly.

"It was frustrating," we sat on the floor around the hearth as there was no other seating. "I told him everything, and he gave me little in return. He's asked me to retrieve an artefact, called the Dragonstone, before he will tell me any more."

Lydia's brows crossed. "A retrieval mission? That doesn't make any sense."

"I know," I agreed, exasperated. "But, according to Farengar, only one who can understand the dragon tongue might retrieve it. As though I wanted to be able to hear what the monster in Helgen was saying."

Lydia paused, but said nothing. She frowned with her eyes determinedly fixed on the embers as she prodded them.

"What is it?" I watched her suspiciously. "This means something to you?"

Lydia replaced the poking stick. "He's testing you," she admitted.

"Yes," I nodded, pushing on. "But for what? Why would I make something like this up?"

Lydia sighed, sitting back onto her knees as she faced me. She opened her mouth, but after a pause, and an uncertain blink, she merely sighed.

Now she was making me nervous. "Please," I asked quietly. "I don't understand any of this."

Lydia recovered and nodded. "I know. And it sounds like that's what Farengar is counting on. Where are you to find this Dragonstone?" she asked warily.

"Bleak Falls Barrow."

"What?" Lydia exploded, emerald eyes flashing.

"What's wrong with Bleak Falls Barrow?" I leaned back. "Isn't it just a dry old ruin?"

Lydia stood, shaking her head as she paced to the downstairs window and gripped the sill. With a deep breath, she tuned her eyes up to the sky.

Hastening to my feet, I joined her, glancing out, in case my answers were outside. There was a vacant plot of land, and Belethor's shop beyond.

I turned back, trying to meet Lydia's gaze instead. "If you know anything that might help me, just tell me," I pleaded.

She grit her teeth and turned back to me, full of anger, though I didn't feel as though it was directed at me. "He's testing to see if you're Dragonborn," she spat, throwing her hand up in annoyance as she turned back to the open window.

I paled. "That's...ridiculous," I stuttered.

The notion was; the test was not. Why I hadn't realised that was exactly what Farengar was insinuating? Perhaps because I had never considered the absurdity – my blood and soul were my own, not...a dragon's! I was a bard; I sang songs about ancient Dragonborn heroes; from dragon slayers who could drink in the power of the creatures they downed, to the Septim line dating back to Saint Alessia.

Lydia stared out, but seemed to look at nothing. "He's an idiot," she continued through a mouthful of clenched teeth. "Even if you are Dragonborn, he cannot expect you to survive the Barrow, given...who you are."

She turned back to the house and let out a frustrated breath of air.

I felt faint and followed her movements, resting my hand on the sill so I wouldn't fall. "Survive?" I swallowed; my throat thick.

Lydia moved back to the hearth but turned to me suddenly, placing her hands on her hips. "You're not going in there alone. I'll come with you. Just -" she nodded around the cottage. "Give me a few days, to set things up here for Lucia."

I shook my head - and wished I hadn't at once - my head swam with stars.

"He said I had to retrieve the stone personally," I wavered, "and that he'd know if I didn't."

"And I'll make sure you're the first person to touch it," Lydia countered, her green gaze narrowing. "But you will need somebody with you, to make sure you reach the Dragonstone."

I bit my bottom lip. A silence fell between us.

Lucia thundered downstairs before I had mustered a response. "All the windows are open! The rooms up there are so big!" she said cheerily. She looked so hopeful, so happy, so different to the meek little urchin who had flinched when I had offered her a slice of pie the night before that I found myself welling up.

Lydia turned to Lucia with a wide smile, recovering instantly. "Great. The next job..." she considered. "Water, from the well, for a pot of tea. That might make it feel a bit more like home, even if we don't have any proper furniture," she wrinkled her nose.

"I'll do it! I saw a bucket out front!" Lucia spoke up eagerly, racing off. The front door clicked closed behind her before we could reply.

I glanced to Lydia and the air between us darkened. "I'm not taking you away from her - be it now, or in a few days," I told her with no room for negotiation. "And with that being the case, I see no reason to remain in Whiterun," I held my chin higher. "In fact, I would rather get it over with, and have my answers from Farengar sooner." Resolve settled within me, much in the same way my decision to journey to Cyrodiil had.

Lydia flashed me a worried, exasperated look, pursing her lips, but I wasn't done.

"As for whatever waits for me in Bleak Falls Barrow...well. There are mercenaries for hire in town, aren't there?" I proposed. If I didn't make myself be reasonable, logical, I would crumble.

Lydia looked torn; her eyes sad and her mouth turned down. "You will pay someone to watch your back?"

"Why not?" I supplied easily, glancing toward Belethor's shop through the window. "Belethor told me I would have access to my money granted some time today, or tomorrow," I reminded her. "As soon as I have it, I'll make for Bleak Falls Barrow."

–

"What do you mean, frozen?" I thundered.

Belethor held up his hands; a gesture I was becoming familiar with as he passed responsibility off to anyone but himself; the cost of an item being determined by its apparent rareness; credit being unavailable owing to the war.

And now...

"Nothing I can do about it, darling. It's all in the letter," he motioned toward the slip of paper again.

I grasped the note in both hands and read furiously as the waves of anger coursed through me. It was from my family's lawyer.

Dear Miss Passero,

I regret to inform you that an order has been given by the Imperial Legion to freeze your bank account on the basis of an incident which they say has yet to be resolved. Our advice would be to return to Solitude and settle the matter personally, after which we have no doubt that your funds shall be given the authorisation required to be released. Until that time, I am unable to provide any lines to the Passero estate in your, or your sister's names.

I crumpled to my knees; my head sank into my lap and I groaned. No. This was impossible. Everything I had planned counted on being able to access my money. I had used nearly half of Alvor and Sigrid's money and I needed to hire someone to accompany me to Bleak Falls Barrow.

"Hey, you don't look so great. I have potion that might settle your nerves?" Belethor offered. "Selling them for forty-eight gold apiece - a steal, considering what Arcadia charges for her muck-"

I ignored him. How could I have been so stupid? Of course the Legion had frozen my accounts after the events of Helgen. Despite of Hadvar's intentions, this was unequivocal proof that the Legion did want to locate me, or make me go to them.

Giselle will be furious.

Belethor continued to question me, asking if there was anything else he could help with in his smarmy tones. I made myself stand, and shook my head. Wordlessly, I left his shop; stared around the marketplace, not really seeing it; listless.

Hadvar is going to speak for you. A hint of warmth made my otherwise hollow chest flutter. So, once again, Hadvar was to be my lifeline, my hope. He will explain what happened to the Legion, and your account will be released.

Holding onto this thought, I trudged towards Breezehome, calculating how long it might be before I heard from him. He might not have reached Solitude yet. Once he did, he would need time to recover from his journey, then more time to report for duty. If he arrived in Solitude tonight, he might speak about the Helgen incident, and my involvement, tomorrow morning.

And then what? Certainly they would not need to speak for days about it. Assuming all was resolved by tomorrow evening, Hadvar's letter detailing the outcome might arrive in Riverwood the day after.

I stilled in the middle of the street, closing my eyes with a pang as I realised; I would have to return to Hadvar's family to await his letter before I could do anything else. Which meant I would have to repay the funds I had borrowed under the presumption I'd be able to replace it before I returned.

I needed money, and fast.

Turning back to the marketplace, I resolved to sell the few potions I had, and the spell tome. They wouldn't be worth 236 gold, but they would be a start.

As I walked, the offer of a contract with the Companions pressed against me. You'll be well paid, Vilkas had called out.

I shook my head roughly; I could not accept a contract with the Companions, only to leave them the moment I had the money to repay Alvor and Sigrid. It wasn't the way a residency worked. And it would be impertinent to seek out a second night's performance, after refusing to consider their more permanent, generous offer. I did not want to damage my reputation as a bard, regardless of what lay in my future.

I sold the potions to the local apothecary, bringing my goal down to 206. But Arcadia had no interest in the spell book, and suggested I take it to Farengar; he would be the only person in Whiterun who might be interested in buying such a thing.

"Or Belethor," she gave me an apologetic half-shrug. "He'll try sell anything on for a profit. Though, he'll not give you as much as Farengar would for it."

Thanking her, I left, and decided to keep the spell book on me for the time being.

As the sun set on my second evening in Whiterun, I slunk back to Breezehome. Lydia told me there would always be a bed for me there, and I took her up on the offer, feigning happiness, humour and delight as she and Lucia told me of their plans for the small, cozy abode.

Once Lucia had gone to bed – Lydia had arranged bedrolls while I'd been otherwise occupied – Lydia turned on me, her eyes hard.

"What happened?" she demanded.

I huffed across the hearth, frustrated that I wasn't able to mask my emotions. I needed help, but I didn't want her to leave Lucia to accompany me to Bleak Falls Barrow. If she died, Lucia would have nobody for a second time. But I could see no alternative; either I had to take her up on her offer, or ignore Farengar's request for the time being.

"You're not going to believe this," I began.

In the end, I told her the whole of my story. It was a bit of a round-about journey, but she asked questions throughout, and though tired and defeated, I answered everything. I let her read the letter from my lawyer, told her about the money I owed Alvor and Sigrid, and explained about the letter I was waiting on from Hadvar. I told her about the night the High King had been killed, all about my parent's murders, my capture at the border, and the incident at Helgen.

When I was done, Lydia stood and stepped past me. My eyes followed her, but I remained where I lay; on my back, beside the hearth fire.

She dug around in her pack for a while, then returned and held out a coin pouch. I simply stared at it, overwhelmed by defeat.

"No protesting," she warned sternly.

"I'm not taking your money, Lydia," I sighed.

"Yes, you are," she knelt beside me, placing the coin pouch resolutely on the flat of my tummy. "This will solve your problem," she explained simply. "There's about 600 septims in there. That'll be enough to repay Alvor and Sigrid, and buy someone to take you through Bleak Falls Barrow. If you barter with the mercenary, maybe promise them a share of any loot, you might even be able to buy yourself some armour with what's left."

Sitting up to face her, I crossed my legs and stared at the pouch in my lap. "You don't have to do this," I frowned at it. "I will find a way, I just need-"

"Time?" Lydia cut in stubbornly, crossing her arms. "Which is exactly what you don't have. Look, consider it a reward, if you like, for the part you played in securing Breezehome - beautifully, I might add."

"No way," I glanced up, wrinkling my nose at her. "If I do take it, consider it a loan. I will regain access to my account, and you will have your money back."

"If that helps you accept it now, then we have a deal," Lydia held out her hand.

My chest swelled as I stared at her outstretched hand - she really had just solved my problem. She was essentially investing in me, perhaps out of respect for my father, but still. Lydia made me feel capable of what Farengar had made me believe I would fail at. If nothing else, I would go to Bleak Falls Barrow and return with the Dragonstone to make Lydia proud.

Laughing at the trust we had inspired in one another, and swallowing back tears, I ignored her hand and hugged her instead. Words formed in my mind and scattered when I tried to speak them - but perhaps no words were adequate.

She laughed, hugging back, and then I laughed again, and then we were both laughing; a relief in the wake of my terrible, winding tale, and despite the anxiety of the upcoming journey to Bleak Falls Barrow, and what I might discover there.

–

After a surprisingly restful sleep around the hearth in Breezehome, I had a simple, pleasant breakfast with Lydia and Lucia, then left for Riverwood.

I had toyed with hiring one of the Companions to accompany me, but Lydia had informed me they didn't work that way; they would insist on leaving me behind, and carry out the contract on their own. She had told me there were only two mercenaries in Whiterun; Uthgerd, the fierce woman being wooed by Mikael that evening in the Mare, and a mer named Janessa, who charged double whenever a job took her underground. I would never be able to afford her.

And so I set out for Riverwood by myself, praying to the Divines that there would be a mercenary for hire at the inn there.

I had worried about being tied to one place, but I felt oddly conflicted when I left Whiterun, and consoled myself with the thought of seeing Alvor, Sigrid and Dorthe in a few hours. It was silly of me to feel a connection to a town I barely knew, but in three days, I had made friends and faced enemies, talked and performed, laughed and raged, and discovered so much about it, its people, and myself. I had even signed my name to a house!

Traversing the outer roads of Whiterun, I hummed King Farangel's Beer Ballad; a silly, simple little tune set in Wayrest. How had Giselle taken the news of our account being frozen? I couldn't help but chuckle at the thought of her reaction. She would be fine, of course - she had our grandparents to provide for her, until the matter was settled. But the look on her face would have been almost worth the inconvenience.

My pack was extremely light; I carried only gold and the three necklaces I was yet to sell for Alvor. I still meant to, but they had fallen to the bottom of an increasingly lengthening priority list. I had left the practise lute with Lydia, knowing that a day or two without playing would weaken my calluses again, but couldn't justify taking the blasted thing where I was going.

And what of that; where you're going? To undertake Farengar's test to determine if you are dragonborn or not?

I huffed again at the notion. It didn't weigh on me if I was honest; too ridiculous to consider in light of all that had happened in the past month. No wonder Farengar had been giving me such pointed, disbelieving looks, if that's what he believed was going on. A young, weak bard made the champion of Akatosh, and a legendary dragon-slayer? He had told me that he hadn't slept much the night before; he'd probably been wrestling with his faith, wondering why the Divines would, in this regard, have a sense of humour generally attributed to a Daedric Prince.

The walk to Riverwood was quiet and uneventful; a mirror of my journey to Whiterun several days earlier. Again, I avoided the main road whenever I neared any structures or ruins. Before midday, I stepped onto the bridge and slowed, glancing over the river and the sweet town nestled around it.

Age of Aggression surfaced and I smiled as I leant on the bridge. A chilled spray from below brushed my cheeks, cooling my flush as I remembered the joyful, intense moment Hadvar and I had shared here. I watched the crystal blue river as it surged and foamed under the bridge, lit up by the shimmer of tiny fish and larger salmon as the sun light caught their scales.

Where was Hadvar at that very moment? Had he reached Solitude? Had he been reassigned; spoken for me? Had he been successful – was my name already cleared?

I pushed off the bridge, shaking my head at myself. It was pointless to speculate. I settled on a final, not-so-useless thought as I continued on to Riverwood; Hadvar would have much preferred to be where I was right now. And if I was honest, I would have liked to be coming back to him, too.

I made for the inn, deciding to secure my unknowing companion in case they cost more than I expected. They alone would need to combat any foes that stood in our way within Bleak Falls Barrow, and I was prepared to pay whatever they asked for their services.

A/n: Thanks so much for the reviews, again - utterly relieved that this isn't a long, dreary, boring tale for others. I'm enjoying writing it so much and it's wonderful to think that others are looking forward to where Celeste will go next!