Chapter 20: Families

"I was hoping you would return to us, little dove."

I faltered, spying Kodlak Whiteman at the end of the hall, rising to his feet from the chair I had first sighted him in.

I couldn't make out his expression, but his tone was warm enough to give me hope that I would be accepted, by him at least. I had entered the upper halls half expecting to be cast straight out again for my unwillingness to join them prior, but had found Jorrvaskr startlingly empty.

His arm shifted; he motioned toward the chair the surly Vilkas had occupied during our first meeting.

"Will you take a seat?" he offered.

I hastened forward, lowering my eyes to hide my relief; my gratitude. "Thank you, Master Whitemane."

He said no more, and only once I was seated did he take his chair; a nod to some bygone chivalry. "I am nobody's Master, Celeste," he reminded, strangely forlorn. "Call me Kodlak, or Harbinger, if you like."

I eased my bow and pack off, wondering at his melancholy. Was this a bad time? Perhaps he was tired. "Apologies for the lateness of my return, Harbinger," I began carefully, hoping he might take that I had always meant to come back. "Am I keeping you up?"

The old warrior allowed a weary smile as he shook his head; he chuckled to the flagstones. "Not at all. I am writing. It is what I fall back to, when I find it difficult to rest."

"I am sorry to hear you can't sleep. But it is no wonder," I posed.

His eyes met mine, full of cautious incredulity, and I faltered. The silvery gaze lingered, asking me a hard question I couldn't answer.

I continued hurriedly, to make myself clear. "It's difficult in dark times to relax, and we have dragons in the skies and civil war at our heels," I conversed, glancing around the hallway nervously, searching for a time to ask what I had to ask. "Where is everybody? I never imagined Jorrvaskr could be so silent."

Kodlak's manner relaxed; he sat tall and groaned as he arched his neck. "Vilkas and Farkas are on a job together. Skjor and Aela are hunting, I believe. Torvar and Vignar retired to the Bannered Mare an hour ago, and the rest are abed," he nodded toward the dormitory, smiling in an endearing, fatherly manner. "Now, tell me," he returned his knowing, silvery gaze to mine. "What is it that coaxed you back into our company?" he queried smoothly.

I had been preparing for small talk to ease him into the subject, but it appeared he wanted to proceed. Perhaps he did want to retire soon. I should have been abed hours earlier too, but I had never felt more awake. I ducked; opened my mouth, but was uncertain of how to ask for his help.

"I've come from the Western watchtower," the words tumbled out before I realised where I was headed. "A dragon was killed, and I absorbed its soul."

"I see," Kodlak returned, peaceful and wholly unsurprised. He leaned back and he tilted his head thoughtfully, and I could have sworn he seemed relieved. "So it was you the Greybeards called for?"

I nodded, feeling oddly pleased by his calm acceptance. "Jarl Balgruuf said I should make for High Hrothgar at once. But..." I faltered. "I don't think I am ready to face them."

"And what will it take for you to believe yourself ready?" Kodlak asked as he gently closed his journal.

My eyes flickered to the book, wondering at a man of his age keeping a journal, then back to the Harbinger. "Strength," I swallowed and fidgeted. Shame flooded me; I must appear so meek, so afraid in his eyes. Thank the Gods none of the other Companions were here to witness my plea. "I am Dragonborn," I acknowledged quietly. "And dragons have returned to Skyrim. The Greybeards will expect a mighty dragon slayer, not a useless bard. I must learn to be a warrior, before I present myself to them."

Kodlak's brow wrinkled slightly, but whatever it was that worried him, he didn't voice it. "We can teach you to strike with steel," he spoke amiably. "But we cannot teach you to be strong."

I was unwilling to argue my point, for I felt it would send us in circles. "Will you accept me into your ranks, Harbinger? I would be more grateful than you can imagine for an opportunity to learn whatever I can be taught in the time that I have."

He smiled, and the knot in his brow was gone. "You wish to join the Companions?"

"I do," I sighed with relief, nodding for emphasis. "I mean to set out for High Hrothgar in a month. I don't expect I will be of much use on your contracts, but I was hoping you might accept a trade," I proposed hopefully. "My songs and stories each night, for arms training by day?"

"We will work something out," Kodlak neither agreed nor disagreed smoothly. "But Celeste, I need you to understand you are entering into an oath, before we drink on it."

I stilled. Had I missed something?

From the small shelf above his desk, Kodlak collected two pewter tankards in one hand, and a glass bottle of expensive mead in the other.

He offered me a mug and met my eyes. "Whether you venture to High Hrothgar in a month, or remain with us at your choosing, you may not join and leave the Companions when it suits you. Either you are a Companion, or you are not," he squared me. He tugged the diamond-like stopper from the bottle and tipped a few mouthfuls of glistening, syrupy liquid into my cup.

I accepted readily, embarrassed. "I won't use you and your people," I flushed, ashamed at how Kodlak had – perhaps unknowingly – exposed a nerve. "You are a family," I continued; stared into my mug and frowned at the dark liquid. "You protect one another," I added in quiet resolution.

The last time I had taken mead, albeit only a little, I had been sitting beside Ataf in the Winking Skeever, laughing over another of Jorn's elaborate tales. It had been the night before the High King had been murdered.

"You can never leave your family," the words felt mechanical to my ears and heart, and left me feeling empty. But they can leave you. Perhaps this wasn't such a good idea. Perhaps I should have been making for the seclusion of High Hrothgar at once, to apprentice myself to the monks.

Chink.

Kodlak's tankard met mine; a subtle accord. I glanced up to him in sadness, wondering if he somehow knew how I had used my friend at the college so poorly, or how little love there was between my sister and I - the only family I had left. Just because I didn't have a family didn't mean I couldn't understand the value of one.

He raised his mug in a toast. "Indeed we cannot leave them; for they will forever remain in our hearts and minds, for as long as we live and breathe."

I huffed, subdued, but raised the tankard and took a small sip. The mead was sweet and room temperature, like liquid light. It curled over my tongue and down my throat, reminding me, just a little, of the soul of the dragon.

Don't lose focus, I told myself sternly.

The drink was surprisingly strong; I cleared my throat to ease the burning after-effects and placed my mug on Kodlak's table. "I fear you and I could wax poetic on this topic until the sun rises, Harbinger. I understand what you are telling me."

"Yes, I believe we do understand each other," his eyes twinkled as he lowered his tankard. "I am pleased you changed your mind and came back to Jorrvaskr. I think we will all learn from one another, and that you will come to regard your shield-siblings as family over time, as they will you."

I was more uncertain. "Perhaps with a few exceptions," I voiced warily. I had not forgotten about Aela and Skjor; how unwelcome they had made me feel. I was relieved they weren't here now to argue against my arrangement, and was not looking forward to their reactions when they learned I had joined the Companions.

"I will talk to them," he seemed to understand, and leaned back in his seat comfortably.

I smiled my gratitude. "Vilkas said you might, last time."

"Yes. I must not give up on them," Kodlak mused in an undertone, then fell silent.

I rose; there was nothing else to say. I lowered my eyes to the - my Harbinger. "Thank you - for understanding. I hope we can...talk more during my time here. I'll return in the morning, after an appointment with the Jarl."

When I raised my eyes, Kodlak's bore a trace of regret. He blinked and the hint was gone.

"Good night, Celeste. You will not stay in the dormitory?"

I shook my head. "I don't want to disturb the others. And my friend, Lydia, will be worried about me."

I had no intention of residing in Jorrvaskr, tonight or any other night, but I didn't want to offend Kodlak. I would make my bed in Breezehome, even if my arrangement with the Companions occupied most of my waking hours; this I had already decided.

And besides, right now, I felt too alert to rest.

"Ah. Yes, we must not disappoint our friends. Until tomorrow, then," he bade me farewell, his tone flat and impossible to decipher.

He turned to face the table, and I caught the sound of pages turning, then a pen scratching paper. "And Celeste?" he added, over his shoulder.

I faced him, but he did not turn back to face me. I could even still hear his pen writing in his journal as he spoke.

"While as citizens of Whiterun, the Circle and I have accepted the Jarl's position of neutrality," he warned, "you might consider changing your colours before you return. Several of your shield-siblings are...not so impartial."

"Oh," my eyes widened as I glanced down to my Legion armour. "It's just – this is the only armour I have," I stammered. Kodlak sighed, and I righted myself, nodding even though he couldn't see it. "I will find something less conspicuous, Harbinger."

"I'm sorry to ask," his words were another sigh in themselves, and he turned back now, to catch my eye. "I would not want you to be confronted by them on your first day over such a trifle."

With a short, apologetic smile, he turned away to write some more.

I left him to his writing, and the Companions to their rest. Stepping out into the freezing, clear night, I held my arms against the chill. All was silent but for the rhythmic hoot of a far-off owl and the howl of a stiff breeze carrying snowflakes over Whiterun's fortifications. The resident Talos worshipper was nowhere to be seen.

My eyes travelled up. Masser was about to set; Secunda already dipped below the horizon. An aurora swirled lazily in hues of pink and green, giving the Gildergreen new life as it coalesced over its bleached boughs, making them vivid.

I smiled, shaking my head as the incredulity of the last few hours spilled over me. Thane of Whiterun, confirmed Dragonborn, and joined the Companions, I mused. It was slightly ridiculous when I put it like that.

I sat on the bench seat where I had met Lucia, suddenly reluctant to make directly for Breezehome. Lydia would doubtless be asleep anyway.

I felt oddly contented. But why wouldn't I, I reasoned? I had survived, and actually gotten my way. And now, at the end of the month, I would be approaching the Greybeards with at least a little skill in defending myself.

Lifting my boots up onto the seat and tucking my coat over my legs, I rest my chin on my knees and lingered, watching the colours twist and swim above me across a velvet sky sprinkled with glittering stars. I was alone; the only person in Whiterun, perhaps all of Skyrim, witnessing the display.

I sighed, and was surprised to feel a longing ache on the exhale. A desire to watch the night's sky with somebody overwhelmed me; contentedness shifted seamlessly into loneliness. The skies were so vast; I was so small, and I shuddered, hugging my coat around my legs and closing my eyes as I nestled my face into my coat.

"Hadvar," his name left me in a whisper.

Was it possible that Hadvar was awake at his garrison in the Pale, surrounded by snow and unable to sleep as well? Possible that he was staring up at the same sky, wondering about me?

Highly unlikely, I mocked, rolling my eyes at such romanticism. I hope he is not. I hope he is abed, warm and contented, and safe.

Remembering Hadvar reminded me of his letter, which reminded me that I needed to reply to him, and soon. I had been the one to suggest we write to one another, and he had mentioned how he longed to hear of Riverwood and the world outside the war.

Pleased to have found something to occupy my meandering thoughts with, I searched through my pack. I was sure I'd picked up a journal or two during the Bleak Falls Barrow expedition. I could use some of the blank pages within to, at the very least, draft my reply.

I cheered quietly when I located what I was searching for; withdrew the pencil from the spine swiftly and flipped pages until I found a blank one, dismissing the ramblings of the journal's original owner.

Poised to write, I blanked and stared at the emptiness. The cool breeze fluttered the open pages and they whispered against one another.

Where do I begin? The address to the Jarl? Bleak Falls Barrow? Or...

I paled, realising that I would need to tell him, before word arrived by any other means, that I was Dragonborn.

There wasn't any way – or really, any reason – to hide it from him. So many had witnessed what had happened at the Western watchtower that it would not be secret for very long.

What will he make of this?

There is no way to tell, I scolded. Just tell him.

I made myself write.

Dear Hadvar, I scrawled.

So much has happened since we parted. You wrote that you wished to hear of home, so perhaps I should start with news from Riverwood...

The aurora lit up my handiwork as I wrote and wrote, committing my thoughts as they rose. I could not tell him everything, for it would take me as long to write as it had to experience the events to give him a detailed account.

The tale poured out of me; days past edited into pages of exposition, summarising the people I had met and worked with, his family's contract with Warmaiden's, the Thane business, and discovering that I was Dragonborn. I confessed I had no idea of the expectations surrounding such a role, but I hoped to gain some physical strength with the Companions in the coming month, in preparation for the journey to High Hrothgar.

I sat back and stretched. My eyes felt scratchy, and I shook my head in disbelief at all I had detailed. Perhaps he would believe me? Maybe he'd think I had gone mad? Whatever his reaction, accounts of what had occurred at the Western watchtower would spread soon enough, and then he might make up his own mind.

With the events outlined, my writing grew more legible as I continued, asking him how he was, and how the war progressed. I truly wasn't certain what I could write him that wouldn't violating some Imperial order, or expose my bereft feelings.

I glanced up to the heavens and blearily blinked at a sky turned mauve; the aurora had faded, and dawn was nigh. Whiterun would wake soon.

But now I had begun writing to Hadvar I wanted to finish.

Thank you for speaking to the General. Financially, my friends, including your generous family, have been meeting my needs. I'll be forever in their debt for their remarkable kindness. I am also performing, to earn my keep with the Companions, and I plan to sell the bits and pieces I've collected over the past few days to bolster my funds.

I cannot imagine why the Legion have frozen my accounts, but am in no position to return to Solitude and settle the matter. It mustn't be imperative that I do so, or I would have received a summons from the General myself.

Whiterun has been a surprise. I've been moving through it, observing it constantly, and can appreciate it for its beauty. I am writing in a calm, cool pre-dawn from a bench seat, bundled up beside a grand, stark white tree I have heard the Priestesses of Kynareth call the 'Gildergreen'. I could retire to Breezehome, where Lydia has assured me I will always have a bed, or to the Companions dormitory, where I have a second, but I want to finish your letter, and after all that has occurred, I am grateful for the moment of peaceful reflection.

I stalled. The letter was certainly long enough, but I found myself writing again.

Despite everything, I am contented for what I do have. All I lack is your presence; to share this serenity, to watch the sun rise over the faraway mountains. It is due at any moment. The sky shifted through indigo to mauve while I wrote, and is now blushing pink with only the brightest stars still stubbornly scattered high above.

My lips curled in amusement as I imagined Hadvar reading this and laughing at me. I was dragging the letter out, as though by continuing I could somehow will him here. He had more important things to do with his time than read my description of the sky. I signed off:

Write again when you are able to, and be safe.

Celeste

I tucked the pencil back into the spine and tore out the finished papers, folding them at once. If I re-read it, I would throw it away and vow to write again more coherently; a cycle which would ensure no reply was ever sent.

Tucking the letter into my coat pocket, I sat back and watched the sun rise before I shouldered my belongings and made my way to Breezehome along eerily empty streets which, I assured myself, would not be empty for long.

–

There was something comforting about stepping into Breezehome. Quietly closing and relocking the door behind me, I shed my burdens and warmed my hands over the still-glowing embers of the hearth.

I didn't want to wake Lydia or Lucia, but I also didn't want to creep about the house unannounced, so I decided to make myself useful until they naturally awoke. I put some wood onto the fire and prodded it until the logs caught alight, then set about making breakfast.

I smiled as I found everything I needed, neatly positioned on the side benches. The little cottage had changed much in the past days. When I had left, it had been empty and dusty, but now? The cupboards were stocked and tables and benches were pressed against the walls, making the most of the cosy space.

I collected some eggs, herbs, salt, bread and tomatoes, and got to work. It wasn't long before quiet footsteps descended the stairs.

"Good morning," I whispered to Lydia. She peered around the staircase with a crease in her brow - before she spotted me and her eyes lit up.

"You're back!" she hurried forward. She was wearing a knee-length tunic and her legs and feet were bare; her black hair flew unkempt around her face, and she held a sword in her right hand.

My eyes flickered to the weapon and I arched an eyebrow. "You slept with your sword?"

"Huh?" Lydia looked down as though wondering how it had gotten there. "Oh," she placed it on the nearest table. "No, I heard something down here, and assumed we were being robbed."

My eyes widened - I had been very stupid letting myself into her home, given the hour and that I had not been expected.

Lydia burst out laughing and tried to muffle the sound with her hand.

I turned back to stir the scrambled eggs. "Sorry about that," I flushed. "Wasn't thinking."

"Don't worry about it," recovered, she waved her hand in nonchalance and joined me, leaning over the pot. "That looks great. I dare say the smell will rouse Lucia soon."

"How is she?" I mused, scraping at the base of the pot and turning the yellow mass.

"She's adjusting," her arm landed over my shoulder, and she jostled me affectionately. "And she will be relieved to see you are safe. As I am."

I smiled up at her. "I am glad to be back," I admitted.

"Can I help?" she stepped back.

I shook my head with a small smile; breakfast was truly the least I could do. "It's nearly ready. Take a seat."

Instead, she retrieved a kettle. "So, tell me everything?" she began conversationally.

Overwhelmed by the task ahead, my eyes widened. "Where do I begin?" I sighed.

"The Barrow?" she set the kettle over the hearth; her green gaze met mine in confusion.

The eggs were done, so I took them off. I smirked, pleased that I'd written to Hadvar, for it had helped me organise my thoughts and somewhat separate myself from all that had occurred. "All right," I adopted the role of bard, slipping into the drama as though it was a favourite tunic. "What would you say if I told you that the Barrow was perhaps the least exciting part of my story?"

Lydia's eyes swerved back to me, vaguely astonished. "I never thought anybody could describe Bleak Falls Barrow as exciting," she intoned carefully. "Least of all you, Celeste. What has happened?" the last was delivered warily.

"Hindsight," I acknowledged. I divided the eggs onto three plates; the bread had already been sliced and laid. "Should we wake Lucia so her eggs don't go cold?"

"Perhaps we should speak first," Lydia hazarded, then moved to the table and motioned for me to sit.

"It's probably for the best, I wouldn't want to startle her," I grinned, obscurely enjoying stringing Lydia along. I sat and lifted my fork, and tapped it against my lip as I considered aloud. "Where to begin..."

I sat up a little taller; a little brighter. "Oh, this will interest you. Jarl Balgruuf has made me Thane of Whiterun."

"He what?" she baulked.

"Shh!" I laughed, waving to coax her to sit. "You will wake Lucia."

She sat, and whispered furiously, "When did this happen?"

"Last night," I let out another long, overwhelmed sigh. "Right before a dragon attacked the Western watchtower."

"A what?"

"Don't worry - I took care of it," I speared a bit of egg.

"Celeste Passero!" Lydia hissed, doing her best not to yell. "What are you talking about?"

"Sorry," I tried to withhold my amusement and failed, and lowered my tone as my chest shook and eyes watered. "I'll tell you, I promise," I sat straighter to direct the cheekiness into my storytelling instead. "Let me begin with Bleak Falls Barrow."

–

I had just finished telling Lydia about Bleak Falls Barrow and the word wall when Lucia joined us, roused by the smell of breakfast after all; a welcome intermission. Once she had settled between Lydia and I with a plate of eggs, toasted bread, roasted tomato and a cup of milk, Lydia asked that I go on in a more cautious tone.

I reasoned it was her way of warning me not to say anything that might scare her soon-to-be daughter, so I settled on telling them the part where Jarl Balgruuf had made me his Thane the night before.

"Oh, Samuel," Lydia whispered as she closed her eyes.

"Lydia?" I frowned.

A sad smile graced her lips, and she looked up to explain. "The Jarl wanted your father to be Thane of Whiterun."

"The Jarl told me so when I first met him," I affirmed, trying to exude unaffectedness and reminding myself that despite her emotion, there was nothing between them - not that it exactly mattered now, and besides, I liked and trusted Lydia. "Do you think that is why he asked me?"

Her smile brightened as she shook her head. "Of course not. That is not Jarl Balgruuf's way. He would never appoint an unworthy Thane, no matter who her father was."

A kind of relief swept over me; for all the Jarl's talk of perceived greatness, I had reasoned the title down to my father's memory and being suspected Dragonborn.

"He has asked me to return to him at eight, to be assigned a housecarl and fitted for some armour-"

Lydia spluttered her tea, startling both myself and Lucia.

"Are you all right?" Lucia asked worriedly as she pat Lydia cautiously on the back.

Lydia nodded, coughing as she darted out of her seat. "I have to go!" she raced for the stairs.

"Where?" I called with an uncertain half-laugh.

She called out over her thundering footfalls; "Where do you think?"

Lucia and I looked to one another - as though the other might answer for her comedic haste. When neither of us could account for it, and the only sound was Lydia crashing and bashing around upstairs, I nodded to the little girl's food.

"All right, eat up. If Lydia's too busy to hear the rest, I'll just have to tell you about the dragon-"

"Dragon?" Lucia whispered, paling as he eyes widened.

I glanced away, worried I had scared her. "Though - perhaps we should wait for your – for Lydia," I corrected, just in time.

"You saw a dragon?" Lucia persisted; her small hand fell to my arm urgently.

I checked her swiftly; I'd mistaken excitement for fear - her eyes shone with anticipation.

Feeling easier, I nodded and smiled secretively. "Two, actually."

"You have not!" she giggled, releasing my arm. "Now you're making fun of me."

"I'm not, as mad as it sounds," I countered with a laugh of my own. "I was in Helgen when the dragon attacked there, and I was at the Western watchtower last night, when another arrived."

She cast me an askew glance, as though she wanted to believe me, but was still expecting some sort of trick. "And...you're Dragonborn?" she asked uncertainly.

"It seems so."

"Did you...slay the dragon?" she asked cautiously.

"No," I sighed, sitting back in my seat. "I am not a dragon slayer. I can't even lift a greatsword," I met her wide-eyed gaze with a wry smile. "I'm possibly the most useless Dragonborn in the history of Tamriel."

Lucia giggled again, and I marvelled at the change in the quiet, meek little girl. I was so pleased that she and Lydia were doing so well together.

"You're not useless," she posed after she had stopped laughing. "You're kind and brave, and you saved me," she added reasonably, turning back to her breakfast and scooping up the last morsel of her egg on her fork carefully. "Maybe you're the kind of Dragonborn that people need right now?"

The ease in which she said it made me flush, and before I had figured out how to reply, we were interrupted by a clatter of boots.

Lydia glanced around wildly, then her eyes widened in victory. She leapt at a side table, grabbing hold of her sword and sheathing it hurriedly.

"Lydia, what's going on?" I asked with a laugh, still somewhat unnerved. "Finish your breakfast. We can go up to Dragonsreach together."

She glanced toward me and shook her head, her mouth set in a straight line. "I will see you up there. He is not going to assign you Hrongar, or any of those other ice-for-brains on my watch."

I frowned, wondering if she meant what I thought she did? I watched on as she rushed over and planted a small kiss on the top of Lucia's head, then smoothed down the girl's hair as she leaned up. "I'll be back for lunch. If you need anything-"

"I know where to find you," Lucia finished musically, casting an easy smile over her shoulder.

"Right," Lydia nodded to her, then to me, and her expression hardened. "And I'll see you at eight," she added with a fierce determination.

–

After Lucia had finished breakfast, we tidied up, then insisted on helping me carry my belongings to the room she and Lydia had set aside for me to call my own. The little girl dragged me up the stairs and spoke proudly of how they had readied it with 'everything I could ever need'.

It was a small, cosy bedroom with a snug single bed dressed in green against a wall that rose at an angle toward the centre; following the roof, I supposed. At the bed's end was a wooden chest; a low dresser pressed against another wall, and behind me stood a stout, empty book case. A simple, thick rug lay across the middle of the polished wooden floor. Warmth rushed through my heart while I took it in. Despite being an orphan with no access to my money, it seemed I had found a home. Perhaps I belonged in Whiterun.

Lucia left me to inspect my room, merrily advising me that she had promised to help Mila and her mama look after their stall.

After watching her go, I stepped into the room - my room - and started to unpack with renewed energy. Breakfast and pleasant company had revitalised me, and as I withdrew each item and laid it on the floor, to sort properly, I wondered if the dragon's soul had done something to me, to make me feel so tireless.

In part, the thought terrified me, so I pushed it aside and frowned at my modest haul. There were a handful of gemstones which I could sell to pay Lydia back her loan and keep me comfortable for a few weeks. I still had one of the daggers Faendal had passed me, and the shorter bow. I bit my lip as I considered selling it, then decided to set it aside, in case Faendal wanted it back some day.

I carefully separated out the three fine, silver pendants from the haul that were Alvor's, and took a moment to admire their beauty. I ran my hands over the round stone set into the centre of one. The pale, perfectly-smooth creamy-coloured pebble had been set into the very centre of the piece. The other pendant was of a similar design, though contained a darker brown river rock, also smoothed and perfectly round. The third necklace was entirely silver and flattened like a coin, and the face had been etched with tiny, beautiful swirls that reminded me of waves rolling onto the shore. There was something altogether wistful and yearning about all three pieces. I placed each carefully atop the empty bookshelf.

I would find a buyer for them; someone who would pay what they were worth and appreciate them. And, if I found myself with money to spare, or was able to convince the General to release my account, I would buy them myself, as a memento of my time with Hadvar's family.

Apart from a few empty potion bottles, the rest of my loot consisted of some old, tarnished jewellery and a few books. I pawed over the titles as I stacked them on the shelf, huffing when I realised I still had the spell tome in my possession. I really had to get around to selling it, as it would be of no use to me. I flung it into my pack when I remembered that the town alchemist had said Farengar might buy it.

With my small collection of books organised, I split the rest into what I would sell straight away and what I would keep to sell later if required. I tugged open the dresser to stow the latter.

It was stocked full of fresh, clean clothing.

I frowned, wondering if by some strange error, Lucia had shown me to Lydia's room.

I picked up one of the garments; a light grey dress. Holding it at arms length, my frown deepened. It was too small for Lydia, and much too large for Lucia. The realisation pounced, and I lowered my arms with a sigh. These were for me.

"Lydia," I scolded the wall, exasperated.

I replaced the grey dress carefully, opening the bottom drawer instead. In here were a pair of shoes, a pair of boots, again too small for Lydia and too large for Lucia.

Shaking my head at the woman – I would pay her for these – I stowed my loot next to the footwear, and then bundled the to-sell pile back into my pack.

Next, I undressed. I would heed Kodlak's warning against riling up the Stormcloak supporters amongst them. I clothed myself in what I hoped were suitable training garments; thick leggings, a long-sleeved, light-blue tunic, and a deep brown vest. I kept the Legion sword belt, arm bracers and boots, as they were now well and truly worn in and simple enough on their own that they would not be recognised without the cuirass and kilt of the Imperial army.

You're addressing the Jarl first, I reminded myself with a curse. The clothing was too common for court.

The clothing is too common for court in Solitude, I insisted as I untucked my necklace and peered down, ensuring father's ring was front and centre. Whiterun is different.

On impulse, I grabbed one of Alvor's necklaces; the one with the beautiful creamy stone in its centre, and fastened it around my neck. Better. I adjusted the vest, tightening the laces down the front as though it were a corset. I could loosen it after my audience.

Last, I worked on detangling my hair and tried to remember which hair styles, from my lessons at college, gave the impression of reliability and patriotism.

Then I laughed at myself. Neither the Jarl, nor the Companions, would care how I wore my hair. I was not appearing before them as a bard, but a Thane and colleague. I simply needed to try and be myself.

I braided it, as that was how I preferred to wear it, but loosely so it wouldn't pull, then grabbed my pack and bow, coat and scarf, and left Breezehome. I stopped on the doorstep to put on my coat and scarf, and glanced up to face a bright blue sky. I took in a breath of air; cool with a trace of smoke, probably from Adrianne's, next door. The smell reminded me of Alvor's forge and I smiled as I remembered that Hadvar's family would be visiting Adrianne; today, maybe tomorrow. I was looking forward to seeing them again.

Hadvar's letter was still in my coat pocket, and with some time to spare, I saw to it first.

With a spring to my step, I made enquiries to the nearest Whiterun guard about a courier. The guard eyed me speculatively, for he wasn't wearing a helmet, but it wasn't until he addressed me as Lady Dragonborn that I realised he wasn't trying to determine if there was a bounty on my head or not.

He told me letters arrived with and were sent by the morning coach, which was preparing to leave beside the stables. I made myself keep smiling as I thanked him.

As I exited Whiterun, I was greeted by other guards; calls of hullos and hails to – there was that name again, Lady Dragonborn.

I bore it with return waves and greetings while my cheeks flamed and my heart thudded. Each salutation made me wonder if I should keep walking, all the way to High Hrothgar. Whether I felt I was ready or not, these people – and once word spread, all people – would be relying on me to stop the dragons.

I warred with my guilt, reasoning that I was no good to them dead, and surely there wasn't that many dragons in Skyrim right now that required - whatever I was supposed to do - immediately. Was there?

The stiff breeze buffeted my coat, flapping it against my legs, and I searched for the coach, still half-absorbed in my thoughts.

"We are our own women now, Celeste."

My heart flopped as my sister's words snaked through me; the coolness to her tone was like a spear of ice.

That we are, I replied silently. Should I write her a letter some time; ask how she was faring? I didn't bother pretending that she wondered about my fate.

Giselle's words reminded me that despite all else, I was master of my own destiny, and, as the Jarl had told me the night before, I had to follow my instincts. Being accepted into the Companions was a shining beacon, which assured me I had chosen the correct path.

After making some small talk with the coachman, I passed him my letter and some gold, and then made my way back up to Dragonsreach. How long would my letter take to reach him? What would he make of my news?

And how long, I wondered with a sigh, until I would hear from him again?

–

The morning passed quickly once I arrived at Dragonsreach. There was no ceremony to attend to, as I had already accepted the role. Lydia stood by the Jarl on his throne, smiling as I approached.

I grinned at her; clearly she had been successful in her petition.

She was made my housecarl; a role which I knew would be ornamental between us, for I would never forget that I was a guest in her house and owed her a significant portion of what would be perceived as my success.

I was then taken, with Lydia shadowing my every step, to be measured for armour. It was quite similar to being fitted for a new dress; I stood straight and still on a small stool while a man held a piece of string with knots in it against my arms, legs, shoulders – everywhere – then noted down digits on a nearby piece of parchment. I was asked for material and colour preferences, and Lydia gratefully stepped forward, questioning the man and prompting me subtly, in a way that enabled me to answer with some understanding of what I was saying.

I was eager for the measuring session to be over, for I wanted to go to Jorrvaskr and begin my training. As he measured more and took even more notes, I wondered who the Jarl might commission to make it. Adrianne? Or this Eorlund Grey-Mane that I had heard so much about? Or perhaps he would ask neither, and send my measurements away to a smith elsewhere to fulfil.

Finally, it was over. Lydia and I departed Dragonsreach. The sun shone high in the sky, and the moment we stepped into the light I reached up and hugged her tightly; excited.

She laughed, somewhat startled, and I pulled back to grin at her, running off and waving over my shoulder. "I'll see you at home, later!" I called behind me.

"Whatever you wish, my Thane!" she called back, filled with cheer and amusement.

I laughed, relieved that the official duties were over for the day, and kept running. I bound down the last few stairs, skirted around the rambling Talos worshipper, and leapt up the stairs to Jorrvaskr.

I skidded to a halt when I saw who was stood before the doors; arms crossed and glaring at me.

"You're late," Aela snipped; her shining eyes as hard and accusing as I remembered.

I pointed to Dragonsreach as a weak excuse. "I had business-"

"We have business," Aela cut over me, uncrossing her arms and motioning for me to follow. "I expect you to be here at sunup tomorrow to make up for today's delay, whelp," she walked not into Jorrvaskr, but around it.

I stepped into her shadow, lowering my eyes as panic set in. Why would Kodlak have assigned Aela to be my first teacher?

Aela led me silently to a training yard behind the mead hall. Several dummies were tied to stakes hammered into the earth against the far wall, and a series of archery targets were propped either side of them. A hard-packed, dusty sort of courtyard stood between those and an open verandah, on which several tables, chairs and bottles of mead were strewn about. It was empty of people.

She's going to kill me; I glanced to her fearfully.

"Where's everybody else?" I asked, trying to swallow my dread. She's not going to kill you. Grow up.

"Working," Aela's short reply carried accusation, as though she felt it was where she, and I, should also be. "All right. Show me what you've got."

It took me a moment to realise that she meant for me to draw my bow. I unloaded my pack and drew the longbow from my shoulder, biting my bottom lip as I realised; "I don't have any arrows..."

I flushed as Aela 'tsked' and strode to one of the targets and retrieved a couple of arrows with a sharp tug.

I half expected her to throw them at me, but the Companion held out her hand instead. "Take them," she ordered, when I didn't straight away.

"Sorry," I muttered, fumbling with the arrows and searching for somewhere to put them. There was nowhere; I placed them all on the ground beside my feet, save for one which I kept to seat in my bow.

I hazarded as many glances as I could bare to the fearsome, flame-haired warrior-woman as I adjusted my stance as Faendal had shown me, and placed the arrow. She watched me like a hawk, her eyes predatory and impatient, but she said nothing.

Had Kodlak spoken to her? Clearly yes, otherwise she wouldn't be here at all.

With an exhale, I raised the bow and looked down the arrow, trying to keep the centre of a target in my sights. I prayed to the Divines that I had gained muscle enough in the past few days, somehow, so that I might be able to extend it properly. I inhaled, and drew back the bowstring.

The further back I drew, the more my arm shook, and eventually I had to stop short. I closed my eyes in an attempt to locate some hidden reserve, but I could draw it no further, and it was not enough. There was no way this would be enough.

"Get on with it," was her reply. "You have wasted enough of my time already."

Opening my eyes, I exhaled and released. It flopped out of the bow, skidded across the ground and stopped about an inch short of the base of the target.

I turned hurriedly to Aela, unwilling to await her wrath.

"I have no strength," I admitted dolefully.

Aela looked as though she might pounce on and tear me to shreds, then her eyes flickered away, to the target. "You are weak. Weaker than most children half your age."

I nodded, for I knew it was true. "That's why I'm here," I told her quietly.

"What was that, whelp?" she barked.

"That is why I am here," I repeated louder, stooping down to grab another arrow. I placed it, flashing her another glance. "I need your help," I managed through a clenched jaw; to Kodlak I could plea, but the idea of begging and scraping to this disagreeable woman sickened me.

There was only more silence from Aela, and I used the time to reposition my feet. I stared at the target as I raised the bow with another shaky exhale.

"Your feet are too far apart," Aela snapped.

I startled; I had been about to draw; and the arrow fell out of my bow with a clatter. I turned to her, confused, but expectant.

She uncrossed her arms, stepped closer and nodded to the ground. "Your feet. It's the stance for a man twice your size. No wonder you're unstable," she made her point by prodding the back of my knee with the toes of her boot.

I stumbled as my leg gave way, and flushed as I quickly righted myself. "Faendal told me to stand this way-"

"And I'm telling you to stand like this," Aela cut in again, grabbing my bow to demonstrate. Strips of armour strained around arms and legs and a torso that was pure muscle as she stood, drew, and then glanced at me. "Are you paying attention?"

I nodded silently, mirroring the warrior's pose and checking my feet against hers.

She handed me back my bow. "Now, fire."

I placed the arrow hastily; exhaled, raised, inhaled, drew back.

Somehow it seemed my arm had doubled its strength, and I laughed when the bow extended completely.

"Remember your breathing!"

"Oh, right!" I replied gleefully; Aela's rough command was not enough to topple my mirth. I inhaled again, stared down the shaft, and aimed at the target.

And I fired. The arrow flew over the wall and out of Whiterun. I laughed as I watched it soar; triumphant.

"Again," Aela ordered, cutting over my elation. "Elbows steady when you loose."

I grabbed for another arrow, heartened that I had overcome my primary obstacle; being able to actually draw a bowstring all the way back.

"Why are you so excited?" she asked me in frustration. "You can barely draw the lightest bow I have ever held, your aim is terrible, and you wouldn't last three seconds against a moving target."

I ignored her and repositioned my feet. I can do this, I encouraged; no such words would come from my teacher. I must do this.

I inhaled, aimed, exhaled, and fired again.

A/n: thanks so much for the reviews! I hope this chapter isn't too boring - there was a bit of housekeeping that had to be completed before she could sink her teeth into her training.