Chapter 32: To Be Seen
Our return to Whiterun heralded a sorrowful event, and another that I had not anticipated. If I had been thinking about anything other than the Companions for the past month, perhaps I might have seen it coming.
When Vilkas and I trudged through the gates of Whiterun about an hour before dawn, Farkas was waiting. He'd sensed our approach, and come to meet us.
It was a sweet gesture from the enormous man, who embraced us both in bone-crushing hugs. His arms and shoulders were tense, and his gruff voice seemed strained. I didn't need heightened senses to see he was grieving, and he'd been worried about us.
Aela hadn't left him to manage the Companions alone. We entered Jorrvaskr, and there she was, rising to her feet when we stepped into the mead hall. She seemed composed, subdued. Occasionally she would stare at me, her expression blank, as though wondering what manner of creature I was, or perhaps why I'd not been told to go to bed so they could talk. Even her words carried less of a snarl.
The first order of business was Kodlak and Ria's funerals. Aela and Farkas had prepared for both, but they'd been awaiting our return before holding them, and seemed to be hesitant to do anything without Vilkas' approval. It seemed not only had they accepted him as Harbinger of the Companions already, but in whatever hierarchy werewolves adhered to, Vilkas was the new alpha.
"Everybody needs closure," Aela addressed Vilkas. "The funerals will provide it."
"Not for Kodlak," Vilkas reminded steadily, a hint of accusation to his tone.
"No," she agreed, her eyes narrowed. Her tone was remarkably even. "We will find him his peace, once Eorland has repaired Wuuthrad. We can do no more to carry out his wishes until that time comes."
Evidently, Aela's trademark fury had cooled - for now.
The funerals would take place at sun-up. Aela retreated to kick the whelps out of bed and send them to summon people from all over Whiterun to attend the ceremony. Farkas was to retrieve a priestess from the Temple of Kynareth. Vilkas was to make for the Skyforge, to deliver the fragments of Wuuthrad to Eorlund Grey-Mane, and to ensure everything with regards to the bodies was arranged adequately, as the funerals were to be held at the forge itself.
"What am I to do?" I asked, wondering if, or when, he would tell the others he meant to make me a member of the Circle. During our walk home, I'd worried about Aela's reaction, but after meeting her this morning, I was no longer afraid.
He paused in the act of leaving. "You have your duty, shield-sister. Report to the Jarl as planned. Once you have told him what we discovered, escort him to the Skyforge. He will want to pay his final respects, to Kodlak. The pair were..." he trailed off, and shook his head. "I don't need to tell you."
"Kodlak was well loved," I acknowledged quietly.
With a grunting grimace, Vilkas left.
I watch him go through a fog. The lulling warmth of the mead hall made me waver. I yearned for sleep, was eager to return to Breezehome to let Lydia know we had returned, but I did as Vilkas bade. I would not risk sleeping through Kodlak and Ria's funerals.
There was no time to make myself more presentable, so I trudged up to Dragonsreach in my armour, coat and scarf, all of which bore stains of battle and travel. I untangled my hair with my fingers while I walked, but it was in desperate need of a wash. I opted for pulling it back from my face into a loose, low ponytail.
The Jarl was asleep, given that dawn had not broken, and the only person in the Dragonreach throne room was his brother, Hrongar, lounging at one of the tables, nursing a tankard with a faraway glower on his rugged face, until he noticed my approach.
He refused to wake the Jarl until I told him about Kodlak Whitemane's funeral.
"All right. Sit there," he pointed to one of the chairs at the long table around the hearth, "and wait, Thane Passero," he ordered, casting me a suspicious glare.
My brows furrowed as I eased into the seat, and watched Hrongar's departing, stomping form. I'd never spoken directly to the Jarl's brother before, so I had to wonder what I had done to deserve such a look, and such attitude. Dimly, I remembered Lydia had referred to the man as 'ice-for-brains' once, so perhaps it was simply that I was aligned with Lydia that had offended him.
After a minute, a servant placed a plate of food and a goblet of mead before me, capturing my attention.
I hadn't expected to be fed so I thanked her, before sending back the mead and asking for water instead. The girl bobbed her head, shuffling off with the drink. I stared down at wedges of buttered bread and a shallow bowl of thick porridge, dusted with dark, dried fruits, and my stomach gurgled. I ate, and fatigue well and truly set in. I thought of nothing but the food, for a time.
"Thane Passero," the Jarl calling my name brought me out of my stupor, and I lifted my head to see him standing before the table, his eyes searching and his brother looming behind him. "You have returned," he noted.
At once, I lowered my eyes, and my spoon. "My Jarl," I swallowed, standing so I could dip into a quick bow. "I have, barely an hour ago."
"Yes. Very well," he intoned dismissively. "My brother tells me that I am to accompany you to Kodlak Whitemane's funeral," he got straight to the point.
I raised my head and nodded. "Preparations are being finalised as we speak."
"Then we should not delay," he turned to leave.
"My Jarl," I added in a rush. Jarl Balgruuf turned back, his brows furrowed. I met his icy-blue gaze, wondering suddenly if he was cross with me? There was a coldness to his manner that I could not account for, otherwise.
"A moment, I beg of you," I continued. Was it a good idea to ask favours of him, if I had fallen out of favour?
What you have to tell him is bigger than any grudge, I reminded myself. The Empire must know of Giselle.
The thought that a warning from me might save Hadvar, should the Stormcloaks go after him, spurred me on, despite Jarl Balgruuf's tense silence.
"My shield-brother and I were attacked, at an inn called the Nightgate, two nights past," I began, making sure that I didn't elaborate unnecessarily and displease the Jarl further.
"By whom?" he turned back to face me now, and with a flick of his wrist, his brother pulled out a chair for him.
"Stormcloaks," I supplied simply, watchful of the Jarl while he sat opposite me. He leaned his elbows on the table, and crossed his hands, and then nodded for me to take my own seat.
"And, who else?" he prompted.
I sat, and nodded gratefully that he had sensed as much. "They were being led by the woman who the Stormcloaks are saying is me."
The Jarl grimaced. "When you stole away from Whiterun, regardless of your cause, you threatened to expose their little game. I could have told you that you were making a target of yourself, had you thought to pay your respects before you departed," he murmured sharply.
"Time was of the essence," I assured him. He was angry with me; my heart thumped heavily in defeat. "I would not have left without explaining, had I not just endured an attack on Jorrvaskr, and seen my mentor and friends being murdered before my eyes," my voice quivered, and I felt my throat clench thick with repressed emotion. There was no time for this.
"I see. Well, you are alive, and back within my walls," the Jarl sighed. "You need not fear the Stormcloaks, or the false Dragonborn, coming for you here, while you are under my protection. Ulfric would not risk insulting me so."
"That's not why I'm delaying us, my Jarl," I shook my head, cursing inwardly for leading him down the wrong path. "The woman – the false Dragonborn," I corrected, and swallowed nervously, wishing suddenly that I didn't have to speak the words aloud. "She is my sister."
The Jarl's expression flattened, and he stared at me for a few long, hard seconds.
"One of Samuel Passero's daughters has joined the Stormcloaks?" he asked finally, in a hiss.
I shrugged, feeling helpless with what little information I did have to offer. "It looks like it."
"Did you speak to her?" he snapped.
I shook my head. "We were escaping. I heard her voice, while Vilkas and I were hidden-"
"Then, you cannot be certain it was her," he cut in. "Alteration magic can be used to trick the mind into believing all manner of fancies."
Again, I shook my head. "I'm sorry, my Jarl, but I recognise my own twin. Vilkas confirmed that-" I hesitated, realising what I had been about to say; that Giselle's heart smelled the same as mine; that it was the way with twins. I met the Jarl's eyes during the pause. "He confirmed that her likeness to me was unquestionable."
The Jarl sat back, his stare persisting, only now it carried a trace of bewilderment. "What would she gain by setting the Empire against your family?"
I had no answer for him, and frowned down at my food. My vision blurred as tears welled in my eyes.
After a weighty pause, the Jarl spoke up again, more reserved this time, and in a more sympathetic tone. "Why are you telling me this, Celeste?" he asked. "Do you believe she is their prisoner?"
I lifted my head and wiped my eyes hurriedly. "I cannot be certain. She appeared to be giving the orders, not taking them. But, whether or not Giselle has sided with the Stormcloaks of her own free will, my reason for telling you is, on one hand, in the interests of the Empire, and on the other...more personal," I made myself meet his eyes once more.
He nodded for me to go on, but his eyes became more guarded.
"We happened upon the Stormcloak's true secret by chance," I told him, resolving to be confident. He would hear me out. "They only knew I had left Whiterun because one of their agents killed an Imperial courier, and stole her letters. One of those letters was mine," I felt the flush rising in my cheeks at this small admission, "which I had written to thank my friend, who warned us about the initial rumour," I reminded him. I had told him of Hadvar's letter, at the time when I had explained, but he had not read it for himself.
"So, Ulfric saw this as an opportunity to silence you, and make his rumour infallible," the Jarl surmised.
I shook my head again. "My sister referred to me as Giselle, to the other soldiers – they weren't there to kill me. They wanted to retrieve me, and take me to Windhelm."
"To what end?"
"I wish I knew, my Jarl," I replied swiftly, and pushed on still. "But, we escaped, thanks to my shield-brother, and with facts the Stormcloaks would not wish to be known about their false Dragonborn."
"You wish me to make it known that your sister is with the Stormcloaks?" the Jarl looked wary. "Celeste, such information will create an indelible mark on your family. Think of your father's name, and your own future."
I was thinking about father, and of how the news of Giselle's defection would have broken his heart, had he been alive. "Not to the general public, if you please. I believe, as you do, that it would not serve any of us well. But, I was hoping to employ a reliable messenger in your service to relay this information to General Tullius in Solitude, and to my friend, Hadvar, who is garrisoned with the Legion in the Pale."
The Jarl's mouth twitched. "Such an act would seal my Hold's allegiance, were it to become known," he told me sternly. "If I am to protect my people and maintain neutrality, I must not openly support either side."
I bit my bottom lip lightly, turning my eyes away. Given my appointment, and the Jarl's penchant for being both reasonable and logical, I had been certain that when the time came to choose sides, he would stay with the Empire. He was clearly surprised by and interested in what I had told him, but of course he would not risk openly opposing Ulfric. I had to wonder why I had ever entertained the notion myself with what I knew of Jarl Balgruuf's determined stance.
"I will write to both," I implored, fixing him with a pleading expression and changing my tactic a little. "The letters will be sealed by me," I added. "But due to the nature of what I must tell them, I cannot risk the information being lost, or stolen again.
"I ask not for your to choose the Empire," I continued in a quieter tone, "but merely to assist me with the security of this information, for the sake of my father's name, and mine."
The Jarl regarded me for a moment, then looked to his brother, who had taken it upon himself to lounge lazily in a chair beside Balgruuf.
"Hrongar, what say you of this scheme of Miss Passero's?" he drawled, almost lazily.
The brother flicked me a glance. "I say your Thane forgets who she serves," he muttered.
"I certainly do not," I clipped, raising my eyebrow at him. "My loyalty to my Jarl assured me that this secret would be safe with him."
"But you would have withheld it, if you'd not needed his help?" Hrongar fired at once, sitting forward. "Would you have even made the Jarl aware you had returned to Whiterun, had you not wanted something of him, Dragonborn?"
Taken aback, I rose, wondering why the Jarl was allowing his brother to speak for him, or to me in this unruly, insulting manner. Hrongar rose as well, in challenge, his chair legs scraping against the flagstones noisily; his eyes hard, and never leaving me.
For a moment, I was lost for words, and glanced to the Jarl for help. He was sitting back and observing the unfolding conflict with a thoughtful expression.
"My Jarl," I addressed him, deciding to have nothing more to do with his brother. "Will you help me?"
Balgruuf's eyes flickered to me, though the rest of his body remained motionless.
"If I do this thing for you," the Jarl drawled eventually, shifting in his seat to sit straighter. "Then you must do something for me."
"Anything," I replied quickly, maintaining his gaze.
The Jarl nodded, and in the corner of my vision, I noticed Hrongar take his seat. "Against my better judgement, since you have become my Thane I have left you to your own devices, while you obtain the skills you insist you must learn before commencing your journey to High Hrothgar."
"I have learned much from my shield-siblings in that time, my Jarl," I supplied; my neck prickling at what he might be leading up to. Against his better judgement?
He nodded, but held up his hand for me to let him finish. "If I allow you use of my messenger this once to send your letters, wherever you mean to send them," he waved his hand as though he didn't want to know any more in that regard, "then you, in return, must be my Thane."
I felt embarrassed by his wording, and stammered, "Tell me how I might serve you better, my Jarl, and it shall be done."
"Good," he shifted in his seat, and stood, placing his hands on the table, so that he now looked down upon me. "Sit."
At once, I sat; I honestly hadn't realised that I had still been standing.
Jarl Balgruuf's eyes were hard, but he spoke very evenly – and almost too calmly. "From this day, until the day that you leave for the Greybeards, you will be here at my table by no later than the hour of six, to eat with my friends and family and those within my service," he raised his eyebrows at me to make his point. "You will not leave the feasting table of a night until I have given you leave, and when I have done so, you will retire to your rooms within Dragonsreach," he spoke in the manner of a father berating, and grounding, his wayward daughter.
I shrank inwardly from the comparison as soon as I'd made it, and felt myself nodding dully at his terms, though it made me feel ill to agree to it. A fire within my belly surged and expanded, warning me; begging me to steal away before I was caged. But I remained, outwardly composed and accepting his reprove. In part, I felt that I deserved this, and should have seen it coming; I had neglected my duty to him, but it had been out of my desire to help the Companions.
But still, I'd had no idea that the Jarl would be so offended by my travelling to Driftshade with Vilkas; his reaction made me wonder if he believed I had taken advantage of the indulgences he had granted me.
He hadn't finished, and my heart sank as he continued. "Your duties to the Companions extend no further than the walls of Whiterun, unless you gain explicit approval from me," he went on. "If you have no pressing duties to your shield-siblings, you will attend on me in court, between the hours of eight and five. Your housecarl in turn will attend on you, wherever you go, as is fitting for a lady of virtue and Thane of my Hold."
Again I nodded, and this time murmured, "As you wish, my Jarl."
"Good," he repeated, nodding for emphasis. "Your armour arrived, while you were gone," he added gruffly. "It has been delivered to your rooms, and it will please me to see you wear it tonight."
He sat, sighing to himself, as the same servant from earlier arrived with a plate of food and tankard of something for the Jarl.
His eyes roved over the meal as he dismissed her with a wave, and took up his drink. "Now, I will eat, and you will write your letters. Hrongar, summon Erthos."
"Yes, my Jarl," I murmured.
"At once, my Jarl," the brother departed, sounding smugly satisfied.
The Jarl ate, and writing materials appeared, brought by a different servant. I wanted to melt into the flagstones out of shame as the woman laid the fine note paper, quills, ink, wax and a tall, flickering candle on a small, but elaborate silver stand before me, pointedly not meeting my eyes as she worked. The Jarl's brother and the servants had all witnessed the Jarl berating me. Word would spread of the scolding, and swiftly.
As soon as the servant had left I set one of the sheets of paper out before me and inked the quill, attempting to calm myself with the notion that any personal embarrassment I suffered was a small price to pay, if Hadvar was in danger and my letters could save him.
Hastily, I wrote first to the General, advising him of Giselle's position. I added what I had planned on telling him regarding my own position; that as Thane of Whiterun I was obliged to and aligned with Jarl Balgruuf, and, that as Dragonborn, I could not deviate from what was required of me by Akatosh to join the war. I conceded that once my Dragonborn duties were at an end and I was at liberty to choose a side, it would, if he had ever had any doubt, be with the Empire, as was my father's allegiance, and my father's father's, and so on, before me.
I signed the letter officially and left it open to dry, placing it to one side.
Next, I wrote to Hadvar. As my last letter, where I had all but declared my love for him, had been stolen, I was more hesitant of openly writing in an affectionate manner, if by some chance the letter should be read by eyes other than his. I resolved to write simply and to the point, though it pained me to think of him reading this letter, and wondering what I was leaving unsaid.
I regret to have a warning of my own to reply to yours. I have seen the false Dragonborn who is with the Stormcloaks, and she is my twin sister, who I believed was in Wayrest studying at the Mage's college. She came to retrieve me, while I was on a mission for the Companions, but we managed to escape. She is using my name, and referring to me as Giselle.
She knows about us, Hadvar. If she, and Ulfric, want me, they may come for you. Take all precautions you are able to in case the Stormcloaks decide to attack your garrison.
I am so sorry. I will write again as soon as I am at liberty to.
I left it at that, and shoved the letter aside as tears grew thick in my eyes, obscuring my vision. Divines, keep him safe. Roughly, frustrated by everything behind me and everything before, I yanked the Passero seal out from under my armour and lifted the chain over my head. The General's letter had dried; I sealed it with a blob of the black wax, and then stared down at the little seal on the end of the large ring while I gave Hadvar's letter a moment longer to dry. The tiny dove, in flight with a twig of olive branch in its beak, flickered at me as the smooth ebony it had been carved from caught the light of the candle I had used to melt the wax.
Once I had sealed Hadvar's letter and addressed both, I set the writing materials aside and looked up from my work. The Jarl had finished his breakfast, and was sitting back, taking sips from his tankard. When he caught my eyes on him, he stood.
"You are finished?" he asked, in the obliging tone I remembered him having the last time I had come to him. He flicked his hand, indicating for somebody to come forward.
I nodded. "They are sealed and addressed. Where might I find your..."
Before I finished my sentence, a figure stepped up beside me. I turned to him; a tall, thin Bosmer wearing bland, generic leather armour.
"I am ready, my Jarl."
"Good," Jarl Balgruuf nodded toward me. "Miss Passero, give your instructions to Erthos."
Standing swiftly, I passed the mer both letters. "Make haste to the Pale, and then to Solitude," I bade, clearing my throat so that my orders wouldn't waver. "You are to hand these letters to nobody but the men they are addressed to. Please wait while they are read, and ask to provide an acknowledgement of receipt, which you are to return to me."
"As you wish, Thane Passero," Erthos tucked the letters into a hidden pouch on his cuirass, then righted his armour and turned back to Balgruuf. "Will there be anything else, my Jarl?"
"That is all."
The Bosmer bowed and departed at once.
With a flick of his head, the Jarl indicated that we were to leave as well, to our next task; the funeral. Dread pooled thick within my chest, and I wished suddenly that I had remained out in the wilds of Skyrim with Vilkas, unaware of all that had been waiting for us in Whiterun.
When we reached the end of the table, the Jarl motioned for me to join him, and held his arm out for me to take, as though I was a lady of the court.
You are, I reminded myself morosely. The Jarl has decreed that you are to be one of his.
I placed my hand in the crook of his elbow, and let him lead me toward the main doors; my heart heavy and the bright, frantic fluttering in my stomach raging at my weak compliance.
That I was confined to Whiterun should not have bothered me so; it meant that I could delay my journey to the Greybeards until I had appeased the Jarl and truly possessed the skills to venture out on my own.
Sighing as we walked in silence, I resolved that it was merely that the Jarl was disappointed in me that made me feel so uneasy. But, my letters were on their way, and I would work to regain Jarl Balgruuf's favour, once the funeral was over. I had to look to the future.
"You are a good girl, Celeste," the Jarl answered my sigh, it seemed, and patted my hand gently.
"I aim to please you, my Jarl," I managed, subdued.
"Do not think bad of me," he encouraged, sighing for himself then.
I replied, automatically, "I only think so of myself, to learn that my actions have displeased you. I have only done what I believed to be right at the time."
"You do not lack in fortitude," Jarl Balgruuf shook his head, and turned to look down at me. "But you are young, and in need of guidance. Had you displeased me, Celeste, I would have dismissed you from my service the moment I sighted you at my table."
I suppressed a shudder and turned my eyes to meet his, but wasn't certain of what was required of me by way of response. I merely stared up at him.
He smiled, and I saw more kindness in his expression than had been there since I had returned. "It seems all of Skyrim is seeking you," he told me, somewhat candidly. "Your sister seeks you for the Stormcloak's machinations. The Greybeards seek you for theirs. The Companions won your allegiance, and kept you close," he squeezed my hand under his. "Is it wrong that I should desire my Thane, and the daughter of one of my trusted allies, to gift me with some of her precious time?"
I shook my head, but still said nothing. He did feel responsible for me because of my father.
"Then, let us be friends," he turned away to look toward the great doors of Dragonsreach. "The greatness in you shines, drawing others toward you like moths to a flame," he added, in a lower tone. "As your Jarl, and as a father myself, I will keep the moths from overwhelming, and taking advantage of you."
By keeping you out of the light, a small, sullen inner voice finished for me.
–
The sun rose over the walls of Whiterun. The funerals brought more pain, but I felt dismayed enough that more sorrow only served to blank my mind and the result was that I felt nothing but guilt, and shed no tears. I watched, standing beside the Jarl, with Lydia solemn and silent on my other side, feeling removed from events. I listened as my shield-siblings spoke their words. They were beautiful, but sounded ceremonial, so I made the assumption that they were the words spoken at every Companion's funeral.
Kodlak and Ria's bodies had been placed on seperate pyres, on the Skyforge itself, and after the words had been spoken and the congregation fallen silent, all in attendance remained to watch as their forms were consumed and freed by the flames. Their ashes would fortify the Skyforge, as was the tradition amongst the Companions.
Once it was over and people began murmuring and shifting around the forge in the act of leaving, the Jarl approached Vilkas. He clasped my shield-brother's shoulder and said something, which I didn't hear, and Vilkas responded with a murmur of his own, and a bow of his head.
He had endured the funerals with all the stoic blankness expected of him by the townsfolk. In his eyes, glazed and staring, I could see Vilkas' torment, even as he spoke with Jarl Balgruuf. If I could have sensed his heart, as he could mine, I knew that I would have found it howling.
I remained where I was, and cast Lydia a glance. Could we go? I was hesitant to leave the Jarl's sight until I had been given permission, having no idea how his new restraints on my freedoms would effect the every day coming and goings of my life. Lydia cast me a sideways glance in return, and, imperceptible to those not looking for a sign, shook her head.
We would wait, then. I turned back to observe the Jarl and Vilkas' discourse. The Skyforge gradually emptied of people. When Vilkas, the Jarl, myself, Lydia, Hrongar and Irileth, and Eorlund Grey-Mane were all that remained, my shield-brother and Jarl Balgruuf turned toward me. The Jarl motioned for me to approach.
I tried to suppress my flush, wishing that he would not treat me like a child before those who I had striven to be treated as an equal by. I hastened toward them, bowing my head and then standing tall, meeting Vilkas' inquiring eyes with a look imploring him to wait until I could explain before judging me.
"Vilkas informs me that your field training was lacking only in the experience earned through years," the Jarl spoke, friendlier than before.
Vilkas agreed with a nod. "You have the skill to be a fine warrior, someday, Thane Passero," he said in an obliging tone that I knew he was using for the Jarl's benefit. I thanked him for his support with my eyes.
"Yes," the Jarl flicked me a sideways look. "However, he has agreed with me, in light of the attempted attack on your life, that it would serve your interests best if you remained in Whiterun for the time being, and undertook no more contracts abroad."
"Thank you, my Jarl," I intoned respectfully, without hesitation.
"Good," the Jarl put his hand on my shoulder, in farewell. "I look forward to this evening."
"As do I," I glanced up to him, trying a small, what I hoped was grateful smile.
He returned it dimly, then cast Lydia a significant nod, and departed. Irileth and Hrongar shadowed his every move.
Once they had disappeared from view, I let out a rush of air that I hadn't realised I had been holding.
As though my breath had been her cue, Lydia ducked down to my level and gave me a fierce hug. "I'm so sorry, little one," she whispered as she clutched me to her. "I couldn't believe how angry he was when I told him that you had gone with Vilkas. I tried-"
"No, I'm sorry," I held her close, cutting off her unnecessary explanations. "I'm sorry to cause you so much trouble. It was unfair of me to ask you to speak for me. It won't be so bad in Dragonsreach, and Lucia can move into our rooms with us-"
"Yes," Lydia nodded, pulling back – her eyes shimmering. "It is all arranged. She's a little excited about it, to tell the truth, as much as we will miss Breezehome for the now."
I offered her a hope-filled smile. "I am glad that she is excited. Some good has come of this, then."
"You are not so caged as you believe, shield-sister," Vilkas stepped into our conversation, and forward to join us. I turned my eyes on him, grateful for whatever he had said to the Jarl, for it had seemed to improve his mood. I had been worried that the Jarl had been about to berate Vilkas for taking me out of Whiterun, when he had first approached him.
Vilkas seemed fine in body, but his eyes were so sad that I wanted to give him a hug and sing for him at once.
"What did he tell you?" I asked, refraining from my impulses.
Vilkas turned his eyes toward the Skyforge; watching the flickering remains of our dearly departed as they joined with the ashes of the Companions before them. "Much the same as he told you, I would wager. But, I could tell," he said carefully, "that he did not want to be mad at you. Give him your attention, for a few days, perhaps a week or two, and you will appease his pride. Then," Vilkas shrugged, to the flames, "the chains binding you will loosen."
I shuddered at the talk of chains; they made the hot panic simmering within me surge forward, insisting to me that I was a prisoner. Stubbornly, I pushed the feeling down, reminding myself sternly that I was not. I could wake tomorrow and announce that I was leaving for High Hrothgar, and the Jarl would let me go without any attempts to prevent me.
Shuddering at the thought, I turned to regard the pyres in the early morning sunlight next to my shield-brother; eyes following the sparks as they rose high into the pale sky. "What about my training? And, the accounts – who will manage the Companions, when you and the others...set out?" I asked quietly. Lydia stood by my side, giving an appearance of disinterest in what we were saying, but I still regretted that I was unable to speak freely with Vilkas, for the first time in a while. "And what about my performances? I won't be able to play for you if my presence is required at Dragonsreach every night."
"It can't be helped," he sighed and turned back to me. I turned to face him sadly, knowing full well how the Jarl's demands would effect them. He rested a hand on my shoulder, in what I took as a sign of encouragement, and smiled down at me fondly. "I will arrange everything here. For now, take some time to recover. Retire to your rooms in Dragonsreach, and make sure that the Jarl sees you going to them. Report to Jorrvaskr tomorrow morning, and we will talk more of your new schedule."
His unfailing support made my suppressed emotions surface, and this time I gave in to my urge; stepping forward and throwing my arms around him. "Thank you," I whispered, not trusting my voice to utter anything more profound, or any louder.
Vilkas chuckled, patting my back gingerly; for Lydia's benefit, I felt. "This is not good bye," he said, when I pulled back. "I still want you to become a member of the Circle. This is just a good night. And tomorrow...we'll adapt to this change."
"I wish things didn't have to change," I murmured a little crossly as I retreated to Lydia's side.
As we three fell into step to leave the Skyforge, he murmured. "Soon, everything will change, for all of us. Best we get used to the idea now."
I was uncertain if he was eluding to the journey that he and the Circle would take to free Kodlak, and their, souls, or my pending journey to High Hrothgar, which might take me from Whiterun, and my loved ones, forever.
I had run from the responsibility for over a month, now, and I ran from it still. I was becoming a better warrior, in my own right, but I had sworn to remain with the Companions, until they were freed of their curse.
And, now that the cure was days away from being realised? Was my time in Whiterun drawing to an end? I baulked at the prospect.
I could not leave Whiterun now; not while I was out of favour with the Jarl. Vilkas would be finding his feet as Harbinger, when it was announced, and would need everybody he could trust to support him. And, I couldn't leave before I had heard from the General and Hadvar, and knew that Hadvar was safe.
You are making excuses.
Of course I was making excuses. When the Greybeards had first called for me, I had dreaded going to them out of a sense of fear for my own well being. Now, I dreaded going to them because I felt I would be losing the families I had discovered in Whiterun. I didn't want to hasten my own exile, if that's what the Greybeards were going to push upon me while they taught me whatever it was that they needed to pass onto the Dragonborn.
I remembered what it was to be alone, and I didn't want to go back to that place again any time soon.
Lydia and I took our leave of Vilkas and made directly for Dragonsreach. The Jarl was on his throne, speaking with Proventus. I toyed with the idea of approaching him and asking for permission to retire, and decided against it immediately; the Jarl did not like to have his time wasted, and it would not do me any favours to appear to be mocking his conditions.
It was enough that he and the others present in the throne room saw Lydia and I move to the side and ascend the stairs that led to the living quarters.
From the war room, Lydia led the way, as I couldn't remember how to reach the rooms I had chosen. I tried to pay attention to the turns she took this time, but I was too tired to make an adequate mental map of the place. Lydia must have felt my withdrawal, for she did not try to draw me out with conversation.
Finally we reached the last door in the hallway of rooms that Dagny had brought us to that day. The room was just as I had remembered it; clean and dust-free, all polished maple and pale fabrics, but still emitting that sense of disuse I had felt during my first visit. I almost felt bad about shedding my filthy boots, coat and scarf in the room's pristine cleanliness.
Lydia deposited me on one of the chairs, then stood on another to light a few of the lanterns hanging overhead. After that, she started arranging a bath; dragging a large copper tub out of a utility cupboard. She left to arrange for water to be brought.
I stared around the room, and felt the edges on my worn emotions smooth out. The peacefulness of the room eased many of the weights from my mind; most of which were the product of events that had passed.
Look forward. This is a good change, I schooled myself, breathing deeply. I cannot stay with the Companions forever.
I tried to look to the future. How long it might take for Eorlund to repair Wuuthrad? How many more sleepless nights might Vilkas and Farkas have to endure? The thought made me smile. Soon, they would be able to rest properly, and dream again.
My thoughts drifted to Dragonsreach, as I was to now divide my time between here and Jorrvaskr, it seemed. Both court and dinners would be simple enough affairs to attend; I would only need to exert myself by way of conversation. It was clear that it would be enough for me to be seen. I would be honest, and pleasant, and give opinions when they were wanted. I could do this; I could win the Jarl's favour back, before I departed for High Hrothgar.
I gazed around the room as I waited, and nearly jumped out of my skin when I saw a person standing in the corner of the room. I leapt to my feet, and realised at the same moment that it was merely a clothing dummy.
My armour, I confirmed, remembering that the Jarl had told me that it had arrived. I padded toward it, crossing my brows as I drew nearer. It didn't look like any kind of armour I'd ever seen. It was...
My face fell, as I reached out to caress the leather breastplate, underneath which hung swathes of burgundy...silk.
It was ceremonial armour. For all intents and purposes, it was a dress. I sighed, wondering why the Jarl had gone to the trouble to have this commissioned for me? I had hoped that he would provide armour that I could wear on my journey to the Greybeards, wear into battle! But this thing on the clothing dummy? It was fit for only one purpose. To be seen.
The dress was beautiful. There was no doubts about its quality. The straight, deep red folds flowed down over whole of the dummy, and the full length arms hung limply either side of the torso. The 'armour' portion consisted of a warm brown leather, sewn into a shaped, sleeveless breastplate and embossed with the sigil of Whiterun at its centre; the horse's head. Tiny silver links of what looked like chainmail at first glance fastened the leather together at both sides, draping between eyelets while not tightened. Underneath the chest piece, a tasset hung in two parts, made of the same leather, and segmented to allow for ease of movement.
I took one of the silken arms of the dress between my fingers and played with the cool material. I was going to freeze in the draughty halls of Dragonsreach wearing silk. I let the material slip from my hand as I caught sight of more leather, beside the dummy, and crouched down to inspect the items. Boots – of the same leather, with more of the silvery chain hung in eyelets to close and tighten them along the side of the shin. Arm bracers, short and of the same leather again, segmented and ornamented with links of silver chain.
I pressed my fingers together and slipped the bracer over my hand, settling it about my wrist and joining the chain links to close it. I eyed it critically, holding my hand out at arms length. It felt like a regular arm bracer, even if it did look like a piece of jewellery. Could I use this armour, I began to wonder, glancing back up to the finely-worked leather on the frame? Sure, the dress was impossible, but the rest? It was prettier than any armour I had ever seen, but was it functional?
Ask Lydia, I resolved, unlinking the silver clasps and removing the bracer. The little links along its length chinked musically when I replaced it and stood with a groan.
All of my muscles ached. Every one of them. And I wanted to sleep, more than I wanted a bath at that moment.
Lydia returned, as though she had sensed my notion of sleeping before I had cleaned myself up, and she brought with her several servants carrying pails of steaming water. I watched them silently, feeling somewhat guilty that I had all but resolved to give in to my weariness while they had toiled to bring the water all the way to me. Once they had departed, Lydia locked the door behind them, strode toward me, and started to unfasten my armour.
"What are you doing?" I murmured, taking her hands in mine and peering at her with furrowed brows.
She raised an eyebrow and I let her hands go. "Attending on you, as is my duty," she replied dryly.
"I can undress myself, Lydia," I insisted, feeling more cross than I should have for having to explain this to her. "I'm not a child," I added, in a rather ironically childish tone.
Lydia sighed as she took a step back from me. "As you wish."
"Will you stop that?" I asked at once.
She frowned. "Stop what?"
"Stop..." I searched for a word, shaking my head and busying my hands by untying my armour. "Stop acting as though you are my servant," I settled quietly.
"I am your housecarl," she reminded me, moving away from me to test the water temperature. Satisfied, she stepped to the recess she had drawn the bath out of earlier, assembled a tray of soaps, and slung a plush, ivory-coloured towel over her shoulder.
I drew the Legion cuirass over my head, and winced as my muscles protested at the loss of pressure. Had Lydia been berated by the Jarl, in my absence? It seemed likely, and for that I was truly sorry.
I let the armour fall to the ground, uncaring of the mud that flaked off it and dirtied the floor.
"I don't care about any of that," I spoke to Lydia in a more quiet, placated tone, unbuckling the kilt next and letting it fall down to join the cuirass. "When we're not standing in front of the Jarl, can't you just...be you?" I turned to watch her. "If you would, I promise that I will be...me," I fumbled over my words. I was tired.
Lydia placed the tray she had arranged next to the tub on the seat of a chair. She hesitated, and from the side I could see that she was smiling.
"Ever your father's daughter, little one," she rose and faced me; the small smile still in place.
I was relieved by her easy tone, and padded to the side of the bath. "Thank you," I spoke gratefully, quietly.
"If you aren't wanting me to bathe you, I'll return home and pack a few things," Lydia tilted her head side-ways toward the door. "Lucia will be with Mila, but if I see her on the way, I'll bring her back."
I nodded swiftly, drawing down my leggings and throwing them across to join my discarded armour. "Could you bring my lute, when you return?"
"Of course. Anything else? Remembering that, you know, you're not under arrest or anything and can come with me to carry your own burdens," she raised an eyebrow at me, smirking knowingly. "My Thane," she added regally, with a deep bow.
I laughed openly at her, shook my head, and thought for a moment. She was joking; I was dead on my feet, and could not go anywhere but bath and bed, right now. I didn't want to burden Lydia by asking her to retrieve unimportant things. But, there were a few small, important items that I didn't want to be without for long. When I was recovered, I could return myself and collect my larger things, like books and clothes.
I didn't have much that mattered, but what I did have was in Breezehome. I drew my under tunic over my head, and made a swift decision.
"In the chest, at the end of my bed," I told her. "That's where I keep Hadvar's letters," I didn't meet her eyes; I tested the water with my fingertip. It was deliciously warm.
"I see," Lydia mused.
"And, on the bookshelf. There are three necklaces. They...are special to me," I stammered as I threw off my underthings. With only the Passero seal remaining around my neck and resting between my breasts, I eased myself into the tub. I gasped as the warm water blushed my skin at once.
"All right," Lydia replied, nodding her head cordially. "Lute, letters, necklaces," she ticked off mentally, then made for the door. "Enjoy your bath, little one," she said to me as she opened the door, and turned back to me. "I'm glad that you're home, even if it does not feel like home, yet," she told me quietly. "I shan't be gone long."
"Take your time," I yawned, reaching for one of the bars of soap. "Once I am done here, I plan to sleep until dinner time."
She laughingly promised me that I wouldn't be disturbed, and left.
Again, I was alone in the new room, but my thoughts didn't wander too far into the past or future, this time. I focussed on cleaning the days of travel and battle from my body and hair, and each time I began to idle over the Companions, or my sister, or the Jarl, the thoughts would scatter, like a startled school of fish.
It was only the uncertainty I felt over Hadvar's safety that managed to disturb my rising contentment.
Divines keep him safe, I prayed again to any of the Gods who might have been listening. I will rise to meet whatever being Dragonborn requires of me, but, your servant begs you – keep him safe for me.