A Bard's Tale

by gabbicav

Bards spin words to win the hearts of men and mer, and Celeste Passero studies with the best at the College in Solitude. But when Ulfric Stormcloak uses his voice to murder the High King, forcing Skyrim into war with the Empire, Celeste finds herself the subject of a legend to inspire the greatest bard's tale ever told; if only she could find her voice to sing it. A Skyrim story.

38. The Extents of Control

Chapter 38: The Extents of Control

We all met at the stables before midday.

"Is everything all right?" Lydia murmured as she passed me a small backpack.

I eyed Lydia up and down as I took it. She was dressed in the yellow armour of a Whiterun guard, staring at me worriedly from under one of the standard-issue, open-faced helms. Over her arm was more yellow – another Whiterun cuirass – and in her hand she held a full-faced helmet.

It was very strange to see her dressed in guard colours, and her question made little sense as everything was going to plan. And why the extra armour?

I crossed my brows; "...Yes?" I hazarded.

"With Hadvar," she rolled her eyes. "Are you annoyed he's coming with us?"

"Lydia," I flushed, glancing around to make sure Hadvar wasn't within hearing range. I wanted them to like each other! I spied him standing before the tall, palomino mare Vilkas had secured for his use, patting its nose and saying something to my shield-brother that I couldn't hear. Watching him across the yard, at ease and now dressed as a guard of Whiterun too, I could easily imagine he was one of Balgruuf's men and not an officer of the Legion; imagine he resided in Whiterun. In such a world, we would spend the evenings together between his shift and my nightly duties with the Companions, or perhaps meet late under the Gildergreen when all was quiet to watch the aurorae dance across the clear night skies through its bleached branches.

The horse nudged Hadvar with its nose and he chuckled, unaware of my attention.

"Oh little one," my housecarl sighed, reminding me she was there. "I needn't have asked. Just look at you."

I hadn't realised I'd been making a look. I blushed, and with a blink, the daydream was gone. "Mm," I reached for the saddle of the dappled bay Vilkas had arranged, fastening my bag to give me something other than Lydia's penetrating green gaze to focus on. My bow and lute had already been secured to each side of the mare, the latter wrapped in a pelt for protection. "As it happens, Hadvar did write that he'd survived the Pale- " I added quietly, seeing no reason to keep it from her.

"What?"

"- but, someone seems to think it's in the interests of Skyrim, or the war, or that it's a fun joke to steal his letters before they reach me so I will think him captured or dead," I clenched my teeth, tightening the strap I had been fiddling with stiffly as burning indignation rose. The horse didn't seem to notice.

"You think your sister stole Hadvar's letters?" Lydia surmised and ducked, trying to make eye contact.

I closed my eyes, and reminded myself to breathe.

It doesn't matter. He's alive. Think forward.

Taking in deep, measured lungfuls of cool air, the raw urge to FUS something or someone subsided. Lydia placed a hand on my shoulder and I opened my eyes, fixing her with a controlled expression.

"I am attempting not to speculate," I managed steadily. "We'll have answers in a day or two," there was no joy or comfort in the statement. "What is that for?" I motioned toward the armour draped over her arm.

Lydia hesitated, then glanced to the yellow cuirass with a puzzled expression.

"Oh," she recovered and held both cuirass and helmet forward. "These are for you."

Looking from it to her, I shook my head. "I want to look Ulfric in the eye as me when I deliver Jarl Balgruuf's message. I have committed no crime; I go as I am."

Lydia reaffirmed her offering. "I told Vilkas you'd say something like that, but he insisted you not be recognised before we reach Windhelm."

"Did he now?" I grumbled. If the order had come from Vilkas, there would be little point in arguing. He always had his reasons, and the stubborn oaf always stood by them. I sighed, taking the yellow cuirass and shrugging it on over my new, studded armour. "Would have been nice if he'd run it past me," I murmured childishly.

"Hey," Lydia smiled supportively. "He's just protecting you."

As his wolf ever makes him, I inwardly grouched.

I was being incredibly ungrateful, and checked myself at once. Vilkas was my Harbinger and my friend, and not everything he did was directed by his werewolf. Quite the opposite, in fact, if my presence allowed him to pacify the beast within for stretches of time.

"He would rather avoid another Nightgate-level incident, and I am inclined to agree with him," Lydia continued, throwing me a pointed look. "Of course, if you disagree, we could put it to a vote?"

I huffed a laugh, knowing what the outcome would be. "We should probably mount up," I changed the subject quietly.

"You're the boss," she drawled, palming me the helmet.

I smiled sadly at her and put the helmet on. It was one of the full-faced varieties that about half of the local guards chose to wear, though once it was in place I had trouble understanding why they were so partial to them; there was virtually no peripheral vision. I reached back, turning toward my horse and groping to catch a hold of its reins, though it hadn't moved, but as I was I could no longer see it. Cursing, I reasoned I could remove the helmet as soon as we were alone on the road.

My horse snorted at my erratic movements. It was a very large, tall horse, but seemed as placid as any other I had ridden. After checking for myself that the saddle and reins were fastened, I climbed up, feeling as though I was perched on top of a precarious mountain and peering through a small gap between boulders.

I turned the horse around in the yard and directed it toward my party, forcing myself to get used to the limited vision. The men were already mounted and waiting for us by the gates.

Lydia drew her horse up beside me. "Ready for orders, my Thane."

"Quit it," I said quickly, shooting her an amused, sideways look, even though she couldn't hope to see it through the helm. My voice bounced between the metal and my ears, and I made a mental note to speak quietly.

She cast me a sparkling half smile, nodding for me to precede her. "You heard what the Jarl said – you're to be accompanied by us at all times. Stick to the centre of the convoy. And keep your eyes on our goal, not your boyfriend's backside. In fact, he'd better ride behind you."

"Lydia!"

"After you, my Thane," she added innocently.

Making a sound of frustration at her, I clicked the horse into a walk and joined the rest of my entourage as my cheeks flamed. The helmet was good for something, then.

If it was poignant to see Hadvar in Whiterun colours, and strange to see Lydia wearing the same, it was truly surreal to see Vilkas and Farkas dressed that way, without a smudge of kohl around their eyes and their faces clean-shaven. They looked like entirely different men, which made me a little nervous. Suddenly – selfishly – I was relieved to find the wolfish sheen over their silvery orbs. Had it not been there, I wasn't certain I would have known who they were.

As I slowed before them and caught sight of the new bracers on my wrists, I wondered if the same could be said for me? Was it strange for them to see me in this foreign armour, with my features completely obscured?

Hadvar and I had gone to Warmaidens, but the only armour Adrianne had ready that would fit me was a generic, studded affair. Pressed for time, I'd taken it, and shuffled out of my new wolf armour and into the studded set in the back room of Warmaidens – which doubled as their kitchen.

The armour consisted of a tight, sleeveless leather vest and a shoulder pad secured with a strap criss-crossing my collar bone. The kilt was long and reached below my knees, but was split in several places for ease of movement, with strips of hide placed to cover any gaps in the defence, and studded reinforcement down the two panels that protected my thighs. The boots reached up to the bottom of my knees, and buckled along the inside of the leg, but were stiff as they needed to be worn in. The bracers covered wrist to elbow; the forearm panel thicker than the rest and reinforced with the same studs as the kilt. The inner arm had been purposely left thin, to make drawing a bow easier. It was armour, Adrianne had said, that was favoured by hunters.

When I had emerged, Adrianne had narrowed her eyes, sighed wearily, and asked Ulfberth to 'get the step out'. Her husband had wordlessly obeyed, retrieving a low stool from under the counter and placing it in the centre of the shop.

I stood on it, and she had worked hurriedly, sewing and tightening the leather while she and Hadvar had become acquainted, chatting about smithing and the Legion contract, Riverwood and Hadvar's family. When we had emerged from the store there was barely enough time to throw my wolf armour inside Breezehome next door, then we left the city to meet the others.

And, here we were in our costumes, ready to commence our playact. We rode out of Whiterun with naught but instructions passing between us. Were the others nervous, I wondered? They didn't appear to be; their poses were entirely casual - bored even.

Windhelm, I reminded myself as I tried to emulate Lydia's relaxed posture. You're riding into the heart of the Stormcloak's city, to speak to Ulfric and face your sister.

This made the butterflies in my stomach worse, but I used them, feeding the fluttery nerves into my role to sharpen my focus. I am Thane of Whiterun and the Dragonborn. I can do this.

Vilkas took the lead, with Lydia behind him, myself in the centre, Hadvar behind me, and Farkas at the rear. As we warmed our horses up in silence, I tried to convince myself that it was really Lydia and Vilkas riding before me. With only their backs visible, they could have been any anonymous Whiterun guards.

Was it deceptive and detrimental to our cause, I wondered, to dress up as guards, even if I didn't hide who I was once we reached our destination? If it was, I did not feel it was borne of ill-will, but necessity. If I showed up in Windhelm with my housecarl, two Companions and a Legion officer, we would only serve to antagonise Stormcloak. Our message was too important for delays. Besides; their pledge to accompany me put them in the service of the Jarl, and so who they were outside of our quest didn't matter. When I thought about it that way, it was almost fitting that they were dressed thus.

Hadvar steered his palomino to ride beside my horse the moment we had passed the other traffic – farmers and merchants – all making their way to Whiterun. Jarl Balgruuf's axe was strapped securely behind him.

"So," he flashed me a sideways smile that made my heart hammer. "Do we have a plan?"

I shook my head and raked my helmet off, resting it over the pommel on my saddle. I smiled, relishing in the feel of the cool air as it tugged at my curls and fanned my face, and a cheeky response wound its way out of me. "Improvising our way through Windhelm will be much more fun."

Hadvar laughed, though it escaped as a rush of air. "I was wondering why the General hadn't asked you to join the Legion yet," he murmured.

"Oh," I lifted my eyebrows, remembering suddenly just how much Hadvar didn't know. "It turns out he doesn't want me," I shrugged.

Hadvar sent me a doubtful look.

"I mean," I reconsidered. "He wrote – after I wrote to him about what happened at the Nightgate Inn," my eyes widened – I had to explain that to him, too. "I believe his words were, 'one Passero daughter is quite enough to deal with'," I intoned loftily, trying to mimic the General's voice.

Hadvar stayed quiet, and when I stole a glance toward him, he looked thoughtful.

He noticed that I was looking at him, and a small smile played on his lips. "Good," he told me in a voice of truth; his eyes victorious. "The further you are from the war, the happier I can be."

I quirked a brow at him. "We are riding to Windhelm to determine Whiterun's position in said war."

"But you are not contracted to the army," Hadvar replied easily. "Once the Jarl's message has been delivered, you may return to your life," he added warmly.

I huffed at the notion. I was less master of my own destiny than he; I had simply been running away from it longer. "I'm the Dragonborn, Hadvar," I murmured, not able to meet his eye as I acknowledged it. I clutched the reins and looked out at the purpled mountains far in the distance across the plain. "Once this message has been delivered..." I trailed off.

No, I couldn't go directly to High Hrothgar - I had to free my shield-brothers. No matter what happened in Windhelm, I would take Vilkas and Farkas to Ysgramor's tomb, and do whatever was required to seperate their wolves from them.

And what then? Will you go to the Greybeards if Whiterun goes to war?

Frustrated for creating another excuse to delay the inevitable, I shook my head in an attempt to clear the tumult.

"It doesn't matter," I resolved. I had been quiet for some time, and Hadvar's stormy gaze was still expectantly fixed upon me. I turned to meet him with an apologetic smile. I was sorry that I had brought it up; sorry that I couldn't explain what was going through my head properly. Sorry that we would have to leave each other again, and so soon.

"Why don't we live each day as it comes?" he asked hopefully; the weak Frostfall sun played with the red in his hair as he tilted his head toward me amicably.

I resisted the urge to reach out to him, nodding instead. "I would like that."

"As would I," Hadvar replied with a lopsided smile.

"Helm on," Vilkas called over his shoulder.

"He must have heard someone on the road ahead," I murmured to Hadvar. He nodded, easing his reigns back to fall into line.

I settled the guard helmet back in place. Would I have any chance to talk to Hadvar, properly talk to him, on this journey? But of course, it was silly to extend my frustration beyond longing sighs; it wasn't as though we were on holiday. I had to be contented with whatever time we managed to share.

Our group resumed its silent progress. Soon, the sounds of booted feet on the gravel road came to us, though I knew that both Vilkas and Farkas had been hearing their approach for some time.

Vilkas had been right to warn us; I tensed at the multiple footfalls. My gratitude was absolute when the approaching party rounded the rise, and through the slot in my helm I spied the fluttering blue of Stormcloak armour.

My eyes widened. Why are we not hiding in the woods, my thoughts immediately clambered?

I scanned the group for Giselle. She was not amongst them; they were all too tall and heavily built to be my twin. Perhaps that was why Vilkas hadn't called for us to leave the road and wait for them to pass. There were six soldiers, assembled around a queue of three others who didn't wear any armour.

It took me a moment to realise they were prisoners.

None of my party spoke; the air was thick with tension. But we were dressed as Whiterun guards; we were still within the boundary of Whiterun Hold. Whiterun was neutral in the war. They had their business, and we had ours. We just had to play this out.

The Stormcloaks drew nearer and I got a better look at the prisoners. Two men, one woman, filthy with dirt and wearing the tattered remains of drab, scratchy-looking tunics. Their feet were bare and hands were bound, with their bindings linked by a chain and the end held by the Stormcloak at the head of the pack. As they grew ever-nearer, I recognised calm defiance in the eyes of the woman and one of the men, but on the other man's face were trails of wet tears, making clean lines through the grime. He looked to be about forty with thick, dusty hair brushing his furrowed brow and light brown eyes full of more tears; devoid of hope.

You can't help them. My heart twisted with guilt as I looked away.

Where were they being led? Surely Stormcloak prisoners should go to Windhelm, yet these three were being taken in the opposite direction?

Our parties each made room for the other as we passed; our single file shifting to the far left of the road to let the larger group ease along the right. My conscience argued with common sense as the soldiers and prisoners filed past. I glanced down to see the sad prisoner glance up to me fearfully, desperately, but he said nothing.

Then his eyes flickered away and landed on the next of our party.

"Hadvar!" he shrieked hoarsely; a mixture of horror and relief.

Gods, no, my eyes slammed shut.

"Help us! They're taking us to -"

"Keep it down," quick as a whip, the nearest Stormcloak shoved the blunt handle of her war axe into the man's gut. "And keep moving."

The prisoner groaned; no further calls for assistance were made. Behind me, I could have sworn I heard Hadvar mutter a curse. Behind him, I heard Farkas grumble something about mouthy Imperials.

They're Imperial soldiers, I realised, biting my bottom lip in indecision. They know Hadvar, or one of them does. They might have been captured when the Pale encampment was attacked.

But...if they were at the Pale...then whatever is happening to them is your fault.

We shifted back into the middle of the road; the Stormcloak party behind us and retreating. All I had to do was keep moving; keep reminding myself that we were on a mission, one bigger than these three people. We couldn't risk exposure. I couldn't save them.

I had to try.

Swiftly, I turned my horse and clicked my heels into her flank so she would catch up the departing group.

"What – no!" Hadvar hissed urgently through his teeth.

I ignored him, raking the helm off my head as I rode. I could hear all four of my entourage galloping behind me.

As I neared the Stormcloaks, those at the back turned to watch us. I didn't miss the widening of eyes or the confusion that marred another's brow.

Setting my face to scowl, I pulled my reigns back and did my best to imitate my sister's snip as my horse skidded to a halt. "Where are you taking these prisoners?"

The remainder of the Stormcloak party turned to face me, as did the sad Imperial prisoner who had called out to Hadvar. The other two prisoners remained as they were; their backs to me, though I could tell that they were listening intently.

The Stormcloak nearest; a large, thick man with white-blonde hair, spoke up. "Apologies, Commander Passero. I thought you were in Riften – didn't realise it was your party – "

"My whereabouts and mission are between myself and our Jarl," I cut him off. Commander Passero? "Answer the question."

"At once, Ma'am," he straightened, and I could have sworn that I saw a flash of fear in his eyes.

What have you become, Giselle? My heart plummeted as I realised that my sister might not, at this moment, be in Windhelm. If she was in Riften, I might not get the answers I wanted after all.

Forget her, I commanded. Go to Windhelm for Whiterun, not Giselle.

In the corner of my eye, Farkas and Lydia pulled their horses up close beside me. Vilkas and Hadvar must have been behind me; Hadvar gratefully out of sight, as he had been recognised, and named.

"They are being taken from Windhelm to Commander Stone-Fist for secondary questioning," the Stormcloak doing all the talking reported. "He is stationed at the camp at Falkreath-"

"I know where Stone-Fist is," I cut in witheringly, though I had not the foggiest of who he spoke. "Your name, soldier?"

"Gjeldsson, Ma'am."

"Gjeldsson," I tested. "Explain to me why six of our number have been assigned to escort three measly, unarmed, teary-eyed prisoners."

"Commander Thrice-Pierced wrote the orders, Ma'am."

"Of course he did," I murmured, unimpressed. "And why would anybody question him," I added musically.

Where are you going with this, Celeste, a small, panicked voice asked within?

Truthfully, I was still working that out, and groping for opportunities. The Stormcloaks had assumed I was my sister, as I had wanted them to - so now I had to roll with it.

"You needn't bother yourself on our account, Ma'am," another Stormcloak spoke up; the woman who had hit the prisoner with her axe handle.

I glanced to her, narrowing my eyes in Giselle's manner. She had scowled at me enough times during our lives for me to adequately recall and emulate it precisely. "Not bother myself with a waste of resources? Pray," I mocked, "explain to me why Thrice-Pierced was unable to complete the questioning himself?"

The woman looked uncomfortable as she glanced to one of her peers, then back to me. "Commander Stone-Fist always manages the final...questioning of traitors."

Final questioning. This kept getting better and better, didn't it? They were being led to torture, and death.

I turned to Lydia, maintaining my unimpressed expression. She cast me a bored look, though I could see questions – desperate questions – in her eyes.

"The Commander is particularly interested in this stock, given they were captured during our victory in the Pale," the soldier continued, her voice slightly more defensive than before.

They had been at the Pale with Hadvar. "I see," I murmured.

"Is there a problem, Commander Passero?" the first soldier who had spoken – Gjeldsson, wasn't it? – asked. "I...have the orders here, if you wish to-" he dug into his armour.

"That won't be necessary," I held my hand up. "And neither will your escort," I added as my heart thumped wildly in my chest. This is it. "I have a delicate bone to pick with Stone-Fist," I mused, spinning my tale as I spoke it. "We will take your quarry the rest of the way, and you may return to your posts," I reached down, intending for one of them to hand me the chain linking the prisoners.

"Uh..." Gjeldsson glanced to his peers; uncertain of how to respond.

Vilkas coughed from somewhere behind me, but I ignored him. I had to play this through now that I had started it. I gave Gjeldsson a steady stare and murmured placidly; "I gave you an order, soldier."

"I'm afraid that's impossible, Ma'am," the female soldier spoke up in his stead; her voice officious. "Commander Thrice-Pierce's orders are for the six of us to take these prisoners to Falkreath, and...well," she crossed her brows at me. "He outranks you, Ma'am. You should continue on your mission, and we'll continue on ours."

Lydia cleared her throat, leaning toward me. "Apologies, Commander, but the officer has a point; we are expected," she said through a bit of a strain.

I flashed her a frustrated look.

"This lot are of no consequence. They'll be dead in a twoday," the female soldier added.

My head whipped back to her as the other Stormcloak soldiers chuckled with varying degrees of uneasiness. The sad prisoner let out a sob of despair.

"FUS," I shouted.

With cries of alarm, both Stormcloaks and prisoners were flung across the road. Before any could rise, an arrow whizzed past my ear and thudded into the throat of the Stormcloak who had callously talked of the prisoners' deaths.

The sight of her choking spurred me into action and I grabbed my bow. I caught sight of Hadvar with his bow raised; his eyes narrowed and settled on the woman as he reached back for a second arrow.

More arrows flew around me – Lydia and Vilkas fired – and Farkas leapt off his mount, dual-blades drawn and swinging as the remaining Stormcloaks scrambled to their feet.

It was over before I had time to place an arrow; Farkas took down two, and arrows from my companions took out the rest.

I gripped my bow handle too-tightly, surveying the scene. The blood drained from my face; six Stormcloaks, dead in an instant. Three Imperial prisoners remained, one making incoherent, panicky sounds while the other two rose to their feet, glancing around tentatively. Farkas reached for them with a dagger, and both leapt back. He fixed them with an unimpressed glare, grabbed the chain joining them, and wordlessly cut their bindings.

Hands landed on my arms and I was spun in the saddle. My bow fell from my grasp, thunking into the gravelly road.

"What were you thinking?" Vilkas thundered, shaking me, his eyes burning with fury. "Are three prisoners worth more than the people of Whiterun – of the whole of Skyrim?"

His eyes flashed amber and I stilled, shocked into muteness. My gaze drifted back to the road; the mess I had caused.

"What's done is done," Hadvar guided his horse between us, grasping Vilkas' arm and removing his hand.

Vilkas grimaced, his eyes blazing with accusation. "That it is," he grumbled, guiding his horse away.

"No point in arguing over it now," Hadvar muttered as my shield-brother rode off.

What have I done? I was so stupid; I'd put all of their lives at risk. "I'm so sorry," I murmured quickly.

"Hey," Hadvar drew my focus to him, gently brushing my arm. "It's okay. It's over."

I looked up to him, wary of the reprimand I would find; that I deserved, but it wasn't to be seen in Hadvar's eyes.

"I don't know what came over-"

"Don't," he cut in firmly, taking my hand. "Don't torture yourself. Remember, love – we have a job to do. We'll clean this up and..." he glanced over the mess of bodies on the road, then nodded purposefully; his expression hardened. "We'll carry on to Windhelm, as planned. Try to forget this happened."

I watched him, hazy with disbelief. He was so calm; spoke so steadily in the face of fresh horror. Were scenes such as these every day occurrences for him - for anyone contracted to the Legion?

"You – you...Divines, you..."

My eyes drifted toward the noise; the sad male prisoner was muttering, standing beside my horse, pointing a trembling finger at me. "You're her. You'll kill us all," he accused, his lower lip shuddering even as Farkas cut his bindings.

"She just saved you, you worthless piece of-" Farkas grumbled.

"Diotan," Hadvar called with some authority; I had to assume it was the man's name. "She's...not who you think she is," Hadvar let go of my hand.

Diotan's head whipped to Hadvar and his dismay turned into relief. "Hadvar. I thought I must have gone mad, but it is you."

I blinked; it was all I could manage in the face of the man's terror of me. No, Giselle. What exactly had she...?

Another hand, this one more tentative, brushed my arm.

"Ever your father's daughter, little one," Lydia whispered, green eyes sympathetic. "Are you all right?"

Swallowing a thickness in my throat, I nodded. I mean – I wasn't all right – but I would have to be.

The sound of boots meeting gravel came to me; both Hadvar and Vilkas dismounted. Hadvar approached the fearful Diotan and Vilkas stopped before the nearest dead Stormcloak, put his hands on his hips and stared down at the body.

I found my voice, but it was small and subdued. "She made me...so angry," I admitted, watching as Farkas settled beside his brother. They fell into conversation, though the wind carried their words away from me.

"Me too," Lydia sighed. "I can't believe you didn't use the thu'um on her sooner."

I huffed bleakly, turning to face her. "I didn't know I was going to do it at all. It just...happened."

Lydia shrugged. "Using thu'um by instinct is probably part of being Dragonborn, right?"

"I don't know," I admitted, shuddering as I turned away. Hadvar was talking to the prisoners, and Vilkas and Farkas were crouched over the fallen Stormcloak in front of them.

"What are they...?" I whispered, cutting myself off when I realised that they were stripping the dead soldier of his armour. I grimaced.

"Oh, for Shor's sake," Lydia muttered, spotting them the same moment as me. "Come on. The sooner we get this done," she intoned, unimpressed.

She dismounted. Realising that she meant for us to help them, I followed, staggering as my boots hit the gravel, placing my hands on my horse's flank for a moment. I closed my eyes; breathed deeply, and prayed for steadiness to return.

When I felt I wouldn't fall, I opened my eyes and joined Vilkas, Farkas and Lydia. Hadvar was busy giving directions to the freed prisoners, advising them of which routes to avoid on their return to Solitude, lest they be captured again.

Vilkas and Farkas had managed to tug the blue cuirass over the first of the fallen Stormcloaks, but there were still five other men and women to disrobe.

I knelt beside Lydia, staring down at the glazed, lifeless eyes of the Stormcloak woman who had made me so angry. She had been doing her duty, and I had...well, I had lost control, hadn't I? She was dead because...of me.

That simply wasn't good enough. I had to go to the Greybeards, and soon – and not only to start down the path that would teach me how to resolve Skyrim's dragon problem. I couldn't remain in Skyrim with the power of the thu'um at my disposal, with no idea how to control it or my impulses.

"I assume we are doing this to obscure the identity of the deceased when they are discovered?" I asked Lydia flatly to fill the silence. We rolled the soldier's blue armour up and shuffled heavy, floppy arms out of the sleeves.

"I'd say so," she groaned, angling the woman to slide the blue fabric out from under her.

Folding her armour in a pile beside her, I averted my eyes. They came to rest on Hadvar, who was approaching us with the female member of the rescued prisoners.

"Lydia," Hadvar crouched, his tone efficient. "Did you bring any spare armour with you?"

Lydia knelt back on her heels, shaking her head with a frown. "Sorry, no."

Why-? Oh. He wanted to prevent the prisoners from being recognised as prisoners as they travelled. I glanced between them.

"I'm...wearing two layers of armour," I supplied hopefully, tugging at my Whiterun cuirass. "She can have this, and – maybe these boots?" I motioned toward the pile of armour we were assembling.

Both Hadvar and Lydia looked uncertain, and I rolled my eyes. "I'll keep the blasted guard helm," I added, hastily unstrapping and then lifting the Whiterun cuirass over my head.

"That will look ridiculous with your studded armour – make anyone suspicious," Lydia murmured. "Better if you use one of the Stormcloak helmets. None are full-faced, but that's better than sticking out."

"Whatever you think is best," I handed the cuirass to the Imperial soldier. She was of average height and thin, with bronzed skin and dark, wary eyes. It should fit her, I assessed, though it would be a little on the short side. But then, it had hung too long on me. Perhaps it would fit her properly.

"Thank you," the woman murmured, meeting my eyes for a second before turning to the road between us. "I owe you my life, Lady Dragonborn."

"Oh," I blinked in surprise, glancing to Lydia for help. I hadn't saved their lives. I had acted on impulse, created chaos, and my entourage had swiftly cleaned it up. Were it not for them, we would all be dead.

My housecarl was no help; she shrugged then turned back to her grizzly task.

I looked to Hadvar next. He raised his eyebrows, nodding to the woman and giving me a small, supportive smile.

Returning his smile, and his nod, I faced her. "And I owe you mine," I decided on a path.

The soldier crossed her brows, glancing up. "Lady Dragonborn?" she asked uncertainly.

I retained my smile, though inwardly I trembled. "What's your name, soldier?"

"Dantius, my Lady. Malana Dantius."

"Officer Dantius," I dipped my head courteously toward her. "Every day you fight Ulfric Stormcloak you save me, and the sons and daughters of Skyrim who haven't been led astray by his cause," I explained, "or bewitched by his lies," I added bitterly. What was my sister's part in his scheme? It was frustrating to acknowledge that I might not come to realise the full of her involvement, if she was on a mission elsewhere.

She was one of Ulfric's Commanders? How was that even possible?

Malana seemed to understand, and bowed in respect. "I always had trouble believing that the Dragonborn had sided with the Stormcloaks. You are with us."

"I am with Skyrim," I corrected and glanced away so I didn't have to address the questions in her eyes. I was certainly not with the Stormcloaks, and the General wanted me to stay out of the Empire's affairs.

I spied my shield-brothers a little way down the road, tirelessly hauling dead Stormcloaks in the direction of the White river. Vilkas and Farkas were in their regular armour once more; they must have been wearing their favoured armour underneath the Whiterun armour all this time. The two male prisoners, dressed already in their yellow cuirasses and generic bits and pieces from the Stormcloaks, were helping them.

I shivered unwittingly. Vilkas was annoyed at me still; I could tell by the glower he sent my way when he sensed my attention.

"You're not...? But then, why save us?" Malana asked finally, quietly. "Why risk yourself, and your friends-?"

I looked to her, uncertain of how to explain. Because it is my fault your garrison was attacked? No.

Something settled on my shoulders. I glanced sideways; Hadvar was beside me and had draped an arm around me.

"Because it was the right thing to do," he supplied steadily. "Had all of us half the courage of our Lady Dragonborn, we would have this war won by next Sundas," he jostled, flashing me a proud, devoted look.

I was grateful for his help; his words carried a tone of finality about them, but still I flushed, because what he said couldn't be further from the truth. If the Legion was full of people like me, we'd all be dead by Sundas, perhaps sooner.

Officer Dantius murmured an agreement and bowed her farewell as the other two prisoners joined her.

"I don't expect we'll see you back in Solitude any time soon, if you're...protecting the Dragonborn?" the male prisoner whose name I didn't know asked Hadvar.

His arm still purposefully wound around me, Hadvar tilted his head, wearing a secretive smile. "We are assigned where our Emperor sees fit. Today, I accompany the Dragonborn, and tomorrow...?" he shrugged.

Tomorrow, the word stung me. I barely heard the prisoners' farewells, nodding and smiling where I assumed was appropriate as I settled under Hadvar's arm and wound mine around his back. Now, and in Helgen, and through his letters, he had been my rock; a calm centre during the raging storm. The true hero.

When the soldiers were on their way, I turned to thank him, but words and training failed me. How was it that I could instantly spin a tale to face off against six Stormcloaks, but became tongue-tied when trying to locate truths to tell the man I loved?

Hadvar turned with me, smiling softly; his arm shifted soothingly across my back.

"Does every day with you have to be this terrifying?" he asked pensively as he tucked a few fallen curls behind my ear.

I with a huff that carried no humour, I groaned, lowering my forehead to his chest. "Hadvar – take me away from this madness," the words tumbled from my lips in a yearning whisper before I had thought them through.

Hadvar drew me closer, embracing me properly. "Don't," he chuckled quietly; his lips pressed gently to the top of my head. "Please."

"Don't what?" I murmured, settling, pressing my ear to his chest and closing my eyes. Thump-thump. Thump-thump.

"Don't tempt me-"

"Break it up. We need to keep moving."

My shoulders fell as Vilkas' voice cut through our moment.

"Right," Hadvar took a step back, glancing to Vilkas as he cleared his throat. "Are we taking the Stormcloak armour?"

"Yes. We'll figure out what to do with it when we set up camp," Vilkas answered over his shoulder, moving toward his horse. He hesitated as he reached for his mare. "If we make it to camp."

I gave his back a hardened look, and resolved to speak to him later about what had happened. For now, my shield-brother was right; we had to get moving.

–

As we rode away the afternoon and the road grew rockier and steeper, the air grew drier and colder, and the wind, gustier. I might have hated the Whiterun guard helmet, but the hide one I now wore couldn't protect my face from the cold.

Tiny flecks of snow dusted my nose and cheeks, rubbing them red and raw as we turned an ascending corner. The others seem so unaffected by the weather that I tried to hide it.

But there was no hiding anything I felt from Vilkas and Farkas; they must have sensed my discomfort.

"Might be a storm on its way," Vilkas called over his shoulder, still in the lead. The hours of riding seemed to have mollified him. "Be on the look out for somewhere to camp."

Lydia made a sound of relief, and Farkas called forward; "I can smell smoke. Might be an inn?"

"And it might be better if we're not seen at an inn," Vilkas grumbled. "We camp in the wilds."

I glanced to Hadvar, but he offered no protest. He returned a hasty sideways glance, then spoke up. "There's a cliff face up ahead. We could look for a cave."

"Caves mean bears in these parts," Lydia reminded him dryly.

"Bears aren't a problem," Farkas drawled, just as dryly.

Vilkas whoa'd his horse and held up his hand for us to do the same. "What do you think, Harbinger?"

My shoulders slumped.

"Harbinger?" Hadvar asked, quietly curious.

Even though I doubted he could see it, I gave Vilkas an unimpressed look. "I made you Harbinger up at Dragonsreach, is what I think," I told him; my words chattering through my teeth.

"Perhaps," Vilkas replied gruffly. "But it wouldn't be wise to call you anything else out here, particularly if there's an inn nearby."

Oh. I looked down as my face reddened. Of course. "As long as there's a fire, I don't care where we set up."

"Cave it is," Vilkas decided promptly, pressing his heels to his mare's flank to set her back in motion. "We can hide a fire better in a cave," he muttered. His horse recommenced its slow clop along the road, and we all followed suit.

Hadvar remained riding beside me, and leaned in a little closer to speak. "If there is a bear-"

"My shield-brothers will handle it," I finished for him, hoping to convey reassurance. I could tell that he was thinking about the last bear we had encountered. "Really," I doubled my smile, as I thought about what I could tell him that wouldn't elude to my brothers' gifts. "They are Companions," I glanced ahead, toward Vilkas. "Half of their contracts are to rid client's houses of wild animals that have decided to take up residence."

Hadvar's eyes widened and he let out a puff of air that misted before him, but said no more.

As it happened, we didn't need to hunt down a cave, or rid it of any disagreeable inhabitants. We crossed the junction we had hoped to reach before setting up camp as we turned north; ascended a small crest flanked by tall, straight evergreen trees, and over the roaring of the river to our right we heard another sound; a loud, wooden crashing, as though the trees were fighting one another.

"A mill," Farkas announced. "Vilkas?"

"Hmm," Vilkas considered, signalling for halt. "Lydia?" he called.

Lydia immediately reached for her map. After a beat, she announced, "Mixwater. We've made really good time."

"Do we stop here?" Vilkas asked. "There's only one worker."

"A woman," Farkas added. "On her own, by the sounds."

I closed my eyes and bit my tongue; they would not say anything that could truly expose them. Lydia and Hadvar would assume...something else. They'd never think that my brothers were sniffing out what lay ahead.

Lydia shrugged. "You seem to know more about this place than I do. It's your call."

"Where are the other workers?" Hadvar mused. I glanced to him; he was frowning, his eyes fixed on a point before us. "It takes more than a single person to work a lumber mill."

Turning back to the sound, I spied the great, churning water wheel through the trees. "Maybe we can ask her?"

We pushed on; Vilkas signalled for silence. The prospect of sleeping indoors was greater than my caution; if my shield-brothers weren't worried, then I had no reason to fear.

As we approached the sawmill, Hadvar smoothly guided his horse before mine, and when we drew to a halt, he positioned his mare in front of mine, blocking my view of the lumberjack; the woman Farkas had sensed. Perhaps he just wanted to confuse our numbers, but I took his lead and lowered my eyes as though I was over tired, hoping that the woman wouldn't see my face.

Vilkas dismounted and took control. I tried to listen, but caught little of their conversation. Their tones were friendly enough, suggesting that all would be well, and soon. Still, Hadvar remained where he was, and I was relieved, for my sake as well as the mill worker's. So long as she didn't know or remember anything about me, everybody would be safe, should she be questioned.

Vilkas returned to us momentarily. I craned my head around Hadvar's shoulder; Vilkas seemed pleased, and the woman had turned back to her solitary work, lifting enormous logs up onto the lumber saw.

"I have some good news," he said quietly, cracking a half-smile. "Gilfre's workers have left to fight in the war, which means," he nodded beyond us, "she has an empty worker's house not far from here that we can make use of for the night."

"That's wonderful news," Lydia breathed out a laugh.

"For us, perhaps," Vilkas added pointedly, then flicked his head toward his brother. "Get up there and help her with those trees, brother."

"Eh?" Farkas grunted.

The smaller brother raised his eyebrows and explained slowly. "She's working the mill on her own. Has been for some time. Least we can do is lend her some muscle, hmm?"

After a pause I heard Farkas' booted feet hit the gravel path. I turned; he'd dismounted, though he didn't look happy. "We?" he grumbled. "Where's this we?"

"Stop your moaning," Vilkas commanded, crossing his arms. "She's nice. You'll like her," he added with an amused lilt.

"Remind me to thank you later," Farkas shouldered past his brother.

I bit my bottom lip; fondness for the pair swept over me as Vilkas turned back to us.

"As for you lot, the worker's cottage is back there," he nodded again, in the same direction as before. "Food and rest are your only orders," he said in the tone of a guard captain.

Perhaps that was the story he had told the lumberjack – this Gilfre – that he was our commanding officer.

We moved. I led my mare after Lydia's, and Hadvar followed me.

Soon enough I made out a heavily-overgrown garden surrounding a rough-looking wood and thatch building.

It's a windbreak, if nothing else. I shuddered as another gust swept straight through my armour.

Vilkas led his and Farkas' horse to the side of the worker's house, tying their reins to a waist-high rail running alongside the low, wood plank porch.

I turned to dismount; my movements stiff on account of the cold and long ride. I managed to climb down from the tall horse without stumbling and tied her reins off with the other four horses. When I turned back to retrieve my belongings, I stopped short. Hadvar had already seen to it, and was standing before me with my pack over one shoulder, my bow over his other, and my lute held out toward me. I smiled as a rush of delight bubbled through me. He passed me my lute, then held out his now freed elbow.

"To our lodgings, my Lady," he returned my smile, his cadence haughty.

The tone didn't suit him. With a quiet laugh, I placed my hand on his elbow as though he was escorting me to the dinner table, and huddled close, grateful for his warmth.

"I'm glad you bought a new lute," Hadvar commented as we sauntered toward the cottage. "You were so upset to lose your other, back at Helgen."

I scoffed. "This," I shrugged the shoulder my lute was on, "is barely a lute," I told him, wanting to stay light. I had tried to put the memory of the beautiful lute my father had gifted behind me, and didn't want to dredge up its, or his, loss now.

Hadvar smiled, but seemed perplexed.

"It's a practise instrument," I explained, turning back to the cottage. All seemed dark beyond the front door. "Was all I could afford, when I arrived," I mused. "I haven't gotten around to replacing it yet."

A step before the doorway, Hadvar stopped and eased me around to face him. His tone was merry; "Then I will make good on my promise, and buy you a new lute. We did survive Helgen, after all," he raised an eyebrow at me.

I couldn't stop a flush as the notion of an expensive present settled between us. "That we did. But," now it was my turn to raise an eyebrow, "you don't need to buy me a new lute."

Hadvar chuckled and shifted, leading me into the cottage. "Perhaps it would be my pleasure to do so?"

I cast him a wary, sideways glance, wondering if he was serious. Lutes – decent lutes – cost a lot, and I knew that he sent most of his pay back to his family. They were doing much better financially with the Warmaidens contract, but still – the prospect of his family going without some necessity so I could have a fancy lute did not appeal to me.

"Let's...talk about it," I hushed, stopping to take in our surrounds. I couldn't think about lutes and everything else I had lost right now.

This is nice, was my first thought of both the location, and the company. If not for the armour, and the impending journey to my enemy, this could almost be considered a holiday.

Hadvar found my hand and twined our fingers together. If I allowed myself to live in the moment, it was nice. I glanced around the run down, almost empty common room of the worker's cottage, and a contentment settled in me. It was cold, but that was nothing that a fire in the dry, empty hearth couldn't fix. We were out of the wind and snow. We were safe. Nobody knew we were here, but for the lone woman who was being assisted – or perhaps being kept check of – by Farkas, and she didn't know who I was. We could rest here; we could sleep here. Not that the twins would sleep – and that would make it even safer for the rest of us to.

"I love it," I said, before realising that I had said anything. I clapped my free hand over my mouth and muffled a laugh as Hadvar, Vilkas and Lydia all turned to look at me; their expressions ranging from incredulous to entertained.

"It's no Jorrvaskr," Vilkas drawled in the tone he reserved for his own personal brand of amusement. "But, I'm glad that you approve...Harbinger."

I raked the hide helmet from my head, and threw it, pleased that his mood had improved. "Don't call me that," I muttered in a strained voice.

Vilkas actually laughed as he caught the helmet. Yes, he was in a much better mood.

"What did they do, ransack the place before they left?" Lydia clipped; less than impressed. She had her hands on her hips before a large, overturned table with chairs scattered haphazardly around it. With a groan, she leaned over to lift the table back up onto its legs.

I hastened to her side, to help.

"It's not so bad," Hadvar commented, setting chairs underneath the rough-scrubbed, heavy wooden table. "Better than a cave reeking of bear, or worse."

Vilkas was crouched before the fireplace, assembling a pyre. "We were lucky. Perhaps the Gods are smiling on us today," he murmured thoughtfully.

I crossed my brows at him; what was going on in his head? Despite a lightness of tone, there was a melancholy to him, if you knew where to look. Was his wolf tormenting him?

Lydia spoke up before I could resolve how to respond.

"Honestly Vilkas, don't start preaching; I've had far too long a day," she groaned, arching her back. I startled as a couple of muscles popped back into place, but she didn't seem to care.

Vilkas glanced over his shoulder; that trace of a half-smile on his lips. "You won't hear any sermons from me, Lydia," he assured; his silvery gaze shifted to rest on me. "But I won't say no to a hymn or two from our little song bird, if you're not too tired?"

I was only a little sore from the ride, but it was nothing that a potion couldn't fix. I nodded swiftly. His wolf was giving him trouble. "Of course. But, let's clean up our home for tonight, first."

–

"Saplings sprout from spring soil, Shapers shape them with great toil,
But none dared touch the bark of thee, The Acorn destined for Elden Tree..."

The simple tune was a good piece to warm up with, demanding little of me.

My audience were busy with tasks of their own – preparing food, organising weapons, talking in hushed voices. To the untrained eye, Vilkas seemed unchanged to the untrained - perhaps just a little less on edge - but I could tell he was grateful for the music. Lydia had rarely heard me sing, and the proud glances she sent my way now and then reminded me much of the looks my father had often worn when I had performed.

Whenever I caught Hadvar observing me, his expression ranged from curious to thoughtful, as though what I was singing reminded him of something else. It took me several minutes to realise this was the first time he had heard me sing; properly sing. Our dance on the bridge didn't count.

Anxiety shot through me; fluttery nerves, irrationally borne of fear. For a half a song, I was keenly aware of his notice, barely able to focus on what I was singing, and gave up on the lyrics, picking out a whole verse on my lute while I stared at the strings as though I was a novice all over again.

This is Hadvar, I attempted reason. He isn't judging you.

Of course he wasn't. But, I mused, I wanted to be recognised for my performance; wanted him to be moved by my offering. I wanted him to sit, distracted out of his task. I wanted him to hear me.

Then calm down. Sing for yourself, I instructed curtly; my inner-voice carrying enough of Dean Ateia's tone to make me pay attention. Sing whatever makes you happy, and the world will be happy with you.

Rolling my eyes at the memory of her obscure lectures, I glanced up. Lydia and Hadvar were both busy at the table, murmuring in low voices. They hadn't noticed the lapse in my calm.

I caught Vilkas' eye. He was watching me; his expression wary, obviously having sensed everything.

I smiled at him as I strummed the closing chords of The Fall of Queen Nurnhilde, trying to push away the feelings and rally my training; my confidence. I chose The Sea it Rises as my next number; a shanty, whose lively melody never failed to lift the spirits.

"All hands to halyards, hoist away! Set sails to full and no delay!
The course we set we must sail true, Or sink ourselves in the briny blue!"

Lydia and Hadvar both hesitated and glanced up, clearly surprised by the change in mood. Vilkas only narrowed his eyes at me suspiciously.

They all made me laugh, and I wound the laughter into my performance.

–

"Can I apologise for what I did today, Vilkas?"

I settled next to my shield-brother, leaning against the outer wall of the cottage before casting him a hopeful glance. It was late; Vilkas had retreated outside a few minutes earlier, and I'd seen it as my chance – possibly my only chance – to address what had happened today, and to discuss our plans for Ysgramor's tomb.

Vilkas was gazing at the bright stars framed by the silhouettes of the trees either side of the cottage. The corner of his mouth turned down, but his eyes remained fixed on the heavens.

"You're sorry?" he murmured, quietly perplexed. "I shook you like a leaf, yelled at you, and you're apologising to me?"

"I put everybody at risk," I looked up to the heavens; to the dark, endless shadows beyond the tree line. "Perhaps I needed to be reminded of that," I added.

Vilkas huffed. "Perhaps, sister. But that is no excuse for me to lay hands on you. My wolf..." he trailed off. "But no. I won't hide behind excuses. It was wrong of me," he sighed. "And I am very sorry."

Warily, I glanced at him. "What did it do to you?" I prompted, turning back to him; part curiosity, part fear.

He glowered sideways, but when I didn't look away, eventually answered; "It laughed at me."

"At you?"

"Mm," Vilkas gazed up again. "It mocks me. Your shout reminded me that in the heat of the moment, our...instincts will take hold."

Shame coursed through me. I had put us in danger, and then his wolf had twisted my blunder to ridicule him. Of course Vilkas had been furious.

"And, being the beast that I am," Vilkas continued disparagingly, "for a single, horrible moment, my rage spilled onto you."

"I'm fine," I sighed. "You would never hurt me."

"You are so certain?"

"Yes," I affirmed smoothly. "Whereas I..." I huffed bleakly. "Well. You at least have a measure of control over your beast."

"Only because of you," Vilkas reminded me.

I closed my eyes to reign back a rising frustration. I was trying to apologise and Vilkas was leading me around in circles. Silence fell between us, and for a time the only sounds were the whispering pine needles as the snowy gusts buffeted them, and the river and churning water wheel beyond.

"Are you okay?" I asked him eventually, opting to keep my eyes closed.

I heard him shuffle against the cottage. "I am. It seems an age since I heard you sing, and your music has quietened the howling," he explained. "Are you okay?" he countered.

Was I? Yes. I was fine. The ride had distanced me from what I had done, and my music had eased me, too. I was happy to be here, now, in this house with my friends. I wasn't at all concerned about the morrow; about facing my enemy, or that I could learn nothing of my sister and why she had betrayed our family, before I went to the Greybeards.

I hugged my arms and avoided answering, wary that it would make the rest of the conversation about me if I did. The grinding noise of the lumber saws came to me.

"Is Farkas working the mill?" I asked, glancing up and frowning at the darkness. "Why hasn't he come back yet?"

Vilkas' eyes were on me, but I kept mine trained on the sounds of the mill.

"I doubt we'll see him until morning," Vilkas murmured.

"Oh," I frowned. Some instruction must have passed between them which I had missed, when Vilkas had told him to help the lumberjack. "I suppose there is no harm in it," I added quietly, mostly to myself. "It's not like he needs the sleep."

Again I felt rather than saw Vilkas' regard. This time I turned to face him. The sheen over his eyes reflected little in the black night, for the moons had yet to rise; he was a man made of shadows.

"There's something else," he murmured suspiciously. "Something you want, or you wouldn't have left soldier-boy's side to come out into the cold."

I raised my eyebrows at his superior senses. "Can't I talk to you any more, brother?"

"Celeste."

"All right," I rolled my eyes. "I want to talk about what happens after Windhelm," I cut to it.

"You want to plan?" Vilkas seemed unfazed and turned back to the skies, leaning his head against the wall. "I thought your strategies relied on improvisation."

I cast him a withering look, and he smirked. "What happens after Windhelm will depend on what happens in Windhelm, I think," he murmured.

"It doesn't, really," I wished he would talk to me instead of the sky, but his attentions were aloof. Perhaps he was trying to relax his mind; even if he couldn't sleep, it was late, after all. I adopted his pose, gazing up. "Once the message has been delivered, I would like to take you and Farkas to Ysgramor's tomb before we return to Whiterun," I told him steadily.

Vilkas hmmed but said nothing.

A wary sideways glance at my shield-brother confirmed that he was frowning.

I bit my bottom lip as I inspected his face, uncertain of what this expression meant. "I wish I could read you, the way you can read me," I mumbled.

Vilkas huffed humourlessly, looking down and kicking the toe of his boot against the wooden porch planks. "No, you don't."

"Why? What are you thinking?" hugging my arms tighter about me, I nudged him with my elbow.

Vilkas continued to inspect the floor boards. "I'm trying not to," he owned, flashing me a sideways glance. "You should go back inside. It's too cold out here for you."

"I'm fine," I evaded loftily.

"I can hear your teeth chattering."

I stubbornly relaxed against the cottage. "Is that an order, Harbinger?" I asked sweetly.

Vilkas barked a laugh, and we both turned back to the stars. I traced the patterns in the skies, wishing I had some idea of which constellation I was seeing. I could recognise my birth sign, but whatever I was looking at overhead was not it.

After a companionable pause, Vilkas spoke up. "I will need to take up the position of Harbinger after all, won't I?" he sighed, though his lilt carried the warning trace of a taunt.

I flashed him a swift glance. "Good. I'm glad you've seen reason."

"The decision has nothing to do with reason," he continued; his amusement made his accent seem thicker. "And everything to do with that boy's feelings for you," he tilted his head toward the cottage, letting out a low whistle.

Here it comes, I closed my eyes and prepared myself. "Is that so?" I had to ask.

"Mm hmm," Vilkas mused. "You'll be off making his babies the moment the war ends, and forget all about your poor old shield-brothers in Whiterun. If you could only -"

"No – don't," I held my hand up swiftly, opening my eyes. "I know, you have no choice but to feel these things, but..." I faltered. What was I trying to say? All I knew was that I didn't want to hear about Hadvar's feelings from Vilkas, even as part of a brotherly taunt; it was an invasion of trust.

Vilkas grinned, quite wolfishly. "Oh, this has nothing to do with what I sensed from him," he joked. "Though, if you were ever in doubt of his intentions, I can -"

"Please!" I cut him off again, torn between distress and laughter. "I – don't want to know!" my cheeks flamed. "Not like this," I added quickly.

Vilkas chuckled, seemingly satisfied with my response, and pushed at my shoulder. "All right. You can figure it out for yourselves."

"That would probably be best," I muttered.

Vilkas leaned back, grinning to himself. Ruffled, I leaned back as well. There was another silence between us. The brightest stars seemed closer than usual, and more tangible, as though if I reached up I could run my hand through their brilliance, creating ripples in the velvet blackness.

I had come to speak to Vilkas about our plans after Windhelm, but he didn't seem to want to talk about it. I should have gone back inside, left him alone, but his taunting – making babies? – made me nervous about going back in to Hadvar. What had Vilkas picked up over the course of our day together? My daydreams? His feelings? Hadvar and I cared for one another, deeply – and regretted our separation – but, where would this affection place us when our duties were over? Did he desire...marriage? Children? Forever?

My mind raced away with the idea, both attracted and panicked by it. Where would we live? His family were in Riverwood – we would remain close to them, surely.

Was that what I wanted? Riverwood wasn't so bad. It was beautiful – peaceful – the perfect place to raise children and maintain a simple, honest life. But, what about my music – my training – my family's house in Solitude? Would Hadvar follow me there, if I told him that I wished to go back to the college? Would he hold off starting a family, so I could graduate and tour, if I wished it?

"What are you afraid of?" Vilkas interrupted my rampaging thoughts gently.

Training my eyes forward, I couldn't answer him.

"You don't need to be able to sense his heart to see he wants long term," Vilkas tried again, shifting in my peripheral, leaning one shoulder against the cottage as he resettled, facing my side. "But, if that terrifies you so much..." he trailed off thoughtfully.

I shook my head resolutely. "It doesn't. It's just...I am no good at this," I managed.

"At what?"

"Love," I admitted in a huff, still unwilling to meet my shield-brother's eyes, despite his senses exposing me. "I have no idea what I'm doing, or what's expected of me. Hadvar and I talk about our pasts, not what we want."

"But, you do love him?"

I nodded, and cast Vilkas a swift glance. "Yes. So. How does this work?"

The teasing glint was back in his eyes. "You want my advice?"

Shoulders falling, I sighed. "Sure."

"Go inside. Talk to him."

I flashed him a hard look. "Well, obviously. I meant..." I trailed off. What did I want?

"I can't tell you what your heart wants," Vilkas held his hands up, still amused.

"You can't?" I turned to face him, eyes flashing with challenge, butting my shoulder against the cottage wall and recrossing my arms as I faced him. "You, who seems to know my heart better than I do?"

Vilkas fixed me with a dry expression. "Good night, sister," he pushed off the wall and walked into the darkness toward the mill.

I lowered my eyes, sorry for what I had said, but let him go. "Good night, brother."

–

I must have been outside for longer than I had thought. I stepped into the stiflingly-warm common room and saw that Lydia was no longer there.

Hadvar was, sat at the large table by himself with his cheek rested on the wooden tabletop.

He was fast asleep. Still wearing the Whiterun guard armour, the vision of what our lives might have been had he pledged himself to Whiterun instead of the Empire made me yearn for a day, even an hour of that reality.

I smiled. How could I have felt nervous about coming back to him? Hadvar had done nothing to make me feel uncomfortable. He had always offered kindness and support. We had simply never had time enough together to discuss our future.

Easing into the seat beside him, I brushed his hair back out of his eyes, then rest my hand on his cheek.

"Hey," I brushed his cheekbone with my thumb. "Time for bed, love."

Hadvar stirred; blinked blearily. Eyelids fluttered, then focussed, and he smiled serenely and curled an arm around my waist. "Celeste. I missed you," he murmured, only half awake.

I rest my head on the table beside him, our noses nearly touching. "I missed you too," I whispered.

With another smile and some more sleepy blinking, Hadvar touched his nose to mine. "You are cold," he shuffled closer; his hand drifted lazily along my side.

"Am I?" I brushed a hand through his hair and twined my fingers in the strands.

"Mm," Hadvar's grasp on my waist tightened and his eyes lost their haze of sleepiness.

"I don't feel cold with you," I owned, my words washing his lips.

"Even so," he countered. "As one of your protectors, it's my oath to keep you safe, and...warm."

I closed my eyes, savouring the closeness. "A valid point, Quaestor Reidarsson. I couldn't have you neglecting your duties. So," I let out a rush of amusement, "how do you propose to warm me up?"

Hadvar sighed; "It's all work, work, work, with you," he muttered.

Then he pressed his lips to mine, soft and unhurried.

I had expected the kiss but couldn't stop my gasp as his kiss set me aflame; had I been cold before, there was no remembering it.

He made a soft, pleased sound and sat up, turned to draw closer, hungrily deepening the kiss and I leant up to meet him, my fingers grasping for his collar. Chair legs scraped loudly against the wooden floor, but the sound was ignored.

With a tug of his teeth to my bottom lip, Hadvar retreated. I whimpered at the loss, wrapping my arms around his neck, ready to fight him if he suggested we stop and part for the night.

The burning desire in his eyes told me such words would never pass his lips. Grey depths searched swiftly, as though I might disappear if he blinked.

"What is it?" I whispered.

"You feel like...a dream," he admitted quietly; his hands left tingling trails down my back.

"A good dream?" I asked softly, brushing my lips across his jawbone, feather-light. The sudden intensity was dizzying, exciting, and somehow a little frightening. Prickles of stubble made his face scratchy, but I liked it; it made him more real.

Hadvar swallowed, groaning softly. "Oh, you're that dream."

"That dream?" I laughed breathily, retreating to arch an eyebrow. "Which dream would that be?"

Hadvar chuckled, leaning forward to press his nose to mine. "I'll show you," he mumbled against my lips before he kissed me again with unrestrained passion.

Only this time there was more; he closed his hands and urged me up and forward. My hands found his shoulders, my squeak of surprise swallowed as he settled me on his lap; my legs straddling his.

My eyes flew open. I leaned back; met his eyes, asking questions I couldn't find the voice to speak. For the first time in my life I was alone with a man – a man I loved, who loved me in return. It would be so easy to give myself to him tonight. A thrill coursed through me, chased by a fear I couldn't grasp hold of.

Hadvar watched and waited while my mind ticked over, adjusting his support to steady me.

"Too fast?" he murmured eventually.

"No, it's...I've never," I babbled, changing my mind. "It's just...a really nice dream," I managed, adjusting my arms around his neck.

"Yes, it is...nice," he smiled, lowering his head; his lips grazed my collarbone. Trembling, I bit my bottom lip so I wouldn't moan loud enough to wake Lydia, and tightened my grip so I wouldn't fall. I can do this. We can do this.

I felt his hesitation, his exhale against my throat, then he hugged me; his face pressed against my neck as he sighed shakily. He made no move to kiss me again.

Why had he stopped? Had I done something wrong?

"Um. Hadvar?" I whispered.

"Celeste?" he replied, just as softly.

"What are we doing?"

With a burst of air he laughed, and I couldn't help but join him. We chuckled against each other; the tension dissolved.

He eased back then shifted me sideways so I sat across his lap instead of on top of him. The hunger in his eyes transformed; a relaxed fondness was back, which did much to settle me.

"You're so beautiful," he said easily, resettling his arms around my waist.

My smile grew unwittingly. "So are you," I offered.

"I..." he faltered, looking down to his lap – well, our laps. "It's strange to remember this is only the second day we have spent together. I feel as though I have known, or been wanting to know you, all my life," he glanced up; a trace of uncertainty lingered in his gaze. "We don't have to do – I mean," his eyes widened. "Don't mistake me. I want you, more than I have wanted anything – but – I'm not asking you to. It would be a bad idea with your housecarl here, and your guardian shield-siblings out there-" he widened his eyes even more.

"Hadvar," pressing a hand to his cheek, I smiled, glowing with relief. It was comforting, in a way, to understand he was as hesitant about some things as I was.

He stilled; closed his mouth and waited, his eyes longing, but torn.

Shame prickled at me. I leant down to rest on his shoulder; fingers brushing, splayed over yellow armour covering hard muscle. "I understand," I whispered, quietened to know that I had caused that look, that conflict. He must have thought he was rushing, or frightening me.

Was I frightened? This wasn't Mikael, stealing a kiss as he caged a younger me, sweeping back to laugh at my flushed cheeks and stupefied expression. This was Hadvar. I wasn't scared of him - I wasn't even scared about how I felt for him, what I would do for him - this was nothing more than a fear of the unknown before us.

Should I explain? No. I would fix this - I would face the unknown. The decision made, I shuffled closer and pressed my lips to his neck.

He made a quiet sound of restraint, but lifted his chin to give me better access. I smiled against his neck and tried the kiss again.

"You..." he murmured; he sucked in a tight breath. His hands grasped and he breathed an exasperated laugh. "I was...mm, trying to talk to you!"

He tasted delicious; smoky from the hearth, with a fresh, subtle tang of snowstorm beneath, and something deeper, dense and intoxicating that I couldn't identify as anything but him. My teeth grazed his skin, testing for response; he bit back a groan tightened his grasp.

"Celeste, please."

I huffed against his neck. "Sorry," I kissed the spot lightly, then sat back and met his eyes. I tried to be serious, but my eyes danced, betraying me. "You wanted to talk?"

He was fixed in place for a moment; glazed and faraway, then leant forward. "No, I don't want to talk," his breath was warm against my lips. Tilting my chin up, we met for a slow, hungry kiss.

My heart raced and my soul sang, warm and glowing. Go inside. Talk to him, Vilkas had advised. Talk about what? About whether this attachment would lead anywhere if we survived what the world threw in our paths? About whether our needs and wants and futures aligned? About the colour of the curtains we would hang in our kitchen?

As Hadvar made a contented sound that I both heard and felt as a rumble to his broad chest, I pushed my questions over what might be ahead of us aside.

Why don't we live each day as it comes, Hadvar had said.

Yes, I decided as we drew breaths from one another. Tomorrow could wait. There was no telling who we would be tomorrow, or the day after that, or the day five years from now. Our time together, our story, was in its infancy, and there was only, truly, one way to determine where it would take us.

To live it. He was here; I was here. He wanted me, and I was ready to give everything to him; I just had to be brave.

"Hadvar?" I gasped between kisses.

"Mm?" was the muffled reply, before he dipped down to kiss my neck.

I grasped his shoulders as a flush of desire pounded through me. "I...oh Gods please, I want you too."

He groaned against my neck, resting his forehead on my shoulder. "Don't. Don't say that," he gulped in breaths of air, shifting trembling hands to my waist. He sat up and looked down to me; his pupils blown. "I can't..." he shook his head in frustration, then glanced toward the fire.

I stilled. I had misread him? "But – you said you-"

"Please," he cut me off, glancing back; his expression steadier than before. He cupped my cheek tenderly and a bittersweet smile graced his features. "Celeste," he began haltingly, "I can't make love to you tonight, and leave you tomorrow. I can't," his eyes shone with determination. "I won't do that to you, or to myself."

"Oh," I couldn't stop the flush from rising as he openly talked of sex with me. I shuddered, acknowledging that yes, that was what I wanted, what I was chasing. I closed my eyes as his thumb brushed my cheek, and tried to swallow back my response. "What happened to living each day?" fell from my lips.

He chuckled. "Using my words against me?" he queried unabashedly.

I laughed quietly, drawing closer; pressed my lips to his jaw fleetingly. "I could use my words, if you prefer. A song, or perhaps a poem to convince you-"

"Celeste," he cut in, half-warning, half-plea; a small laugh left him in a huff.

Smiling in victory - of what I wasn't sure - I brushed his hair behind his ear, leaning up to whisper-sing against it, "We drink to our youth-"

"Please," his laughter doubled; his hands tightened on my waist and, after a slight faltering, he held me back. His sparkling eyes bore a trace of suspicion. "My resolve to do what's right, not what I want, is barely holding together with you here like this."

"Like what?" I asked innocently. I toyed with the hair at the back of his neck, twirling my fingers as I waited for him to explain. Hadvar ruffled and aroused was so different to the other faces of Hadvar that I knew; so raw and adorable, and exciting. And this anticipation, knowing that we both wanted one another, was exhilarating.

He shook his head, exasperated, though he leaned against my wandering fingers. "Gods, don't tease me," he groaned, closing his eyes.

A spike of unease stilled me; my amusement retreated.

"I'm not teasing you," I lifted up, kissing him once; softly; briefly. Exercising restraint, I pulled back and sighed, sending him a hopeful smile. "I've...really no idea what I'm doing. I've never..." my eyelashes fluttered as I looked down. "Sorry," I settled simply, unable to get my words out in the face of his endearing gaze. "You are right."

His fingers were on my chin, lifting me to look at him.

"Can I have that in writing?" he arched an eyebrow, smiling.

I hit his chest as a giggle burst out of me. "Legionnaires and their lists!" I accused.

He laughed, then kissed me again, but this time, it was all warmth and comfort; the intensity diffused. The night drifted on and Hadvar and I talked, kissed, and laughed into the early hours, learning about each other.

And I learned that despite the desire coursing through me, I didn't really need more from him at this moment. This was living each day as it came; no pressure, no stumbling towards a finish line leagues away from the now.

Eventually, acknowledging we would both need our wits about us tomorrow (or was it today already?), we retreated to the dormitories. Hadvar guided me with an arm around my shoulder to the bed he had prepared earlier for his use. Vilkas and Farkas' belongings were on the other two beds, but I wagered they would not use them, no matter the hour, and Lydia was in the other room, sleeping beside the bed we had prepared for me.

Stripping our armour and kicking off our boots, we crashed into Hadvar's bed in the tunics and trousers we wore below and stretched out under the scratchy furs and coverings; our legs twined as we faced each other, shuffling until it was comfortable for us both on the single bed.

Even in the dimness of the room, I saw him smiling, watching me. I kissed him, unable to help myself. Within the heady, hazy tiredness, Hadvar did seem to be a dream.

I fell asleep soon after, holding him close, hoping the dream would never end.

–

"Well, isn't this sweet."

I blinked awake, comfortably warm and contented. I remembered that a voice had woken me, and turned my head to see my housecarl standing over the bed, her brows crossed and her hands on her hips.

The flush rose across my cheeks as I glanced from her, to Hadvar, who was stirring beside me. He still faced me; our legs tangled and his hand draped over my hip. "Lydia," I scrambled to pull back the covers and sit on the side of the bed. "It's not – nothing-"

"Calm down, little one," Lydia sounded amused and passed me my boots. "And get dressed. It's dawn. We need to leave soon, and Vilkas has an idea."

"Hmm?" Hadvar was awake, and blearily glanced to Lydia; confused and frowning at her.

I began to put my boots on quickly, ducking my head and trying to douse my embarrassment with a reminder that we were two grown adults – and besides, we hadn't done anything.

"Good morning, Hadvar," Lydia replied to his indeterminable sound cheerfully. "I trust you had a pleasant night."

"Night-? Oh," he realised quietly why she seemed to be laughing at him. I glanced to him from under my mussed-up hair to see that his eyes were wider, and a small smile was playing on his lips. "I suppose that means I'm in for a lecture?" he asked her.

Lydia laughed, passing him his boots. "Not from me. But, you might not want to mention this to Vilkas or Farkas," Lydia smirked knowingly.

I tightened the last buckle on the inside of my boot and sat up, trying to untangle my hair with my fingers. "There's no this, Lydia. Nothing happened."

Again she smirked. "All right," she nodded, though sounded as though she didn't believe me. "I'll see you in the common room directly, my Thane."

Once she was gone, Hadvar laughed quietly to himself, and I hazarded him a glance as I began to hurriedly braid my windswept curls. I needed to brush my hair, but my pack was in the other dormitory, and I wasn't sure that Farkas would have included one when he'd packed our provisions anyway.

I must have sent Hadvar a question with my look, for he smiled and stood, putting his armour on as he explained. "I am imagining the look on your shield-brothers' faces, if they had found us."

A nervous laugh bubbled out of me. "They would be relentless."

"It would be worth it," Hadvar's eyes shone as he held his hand out to me. I took it, and he drew me close, wrapping his other arm around me and holding me against him. He leaned down and kissed my forehead. "I'd take their reprimands and teasing every day, if it meant I could hold you every night from now, until the Divines take us," he murmured poignantly.

My flush had barely recovered, and his words sent another rush of warmth through me; this time not out of embarrassment. "Hadvar..." I whispered, about to tell him that I wanted that too.

"Come," his hold on me relaxed and he took a step back, twining our fingers together as he grinned. "It sounds like your shield-brother has a plan."

I closed my mouth, nodding mutely and understanding that he didn't need, or perhaps even want, a reply to his disclosure. Not yet, at least.

We exited the men's dormitory, arriving in the warm, but dark common room. I blinked as my eyes adjusted to nothing but the glow of embers in the hearth, and saw that the curtains of the four large windows were still closed. I spied the orange glow of dawn lining the eastern window.

The reason for keeping the windows cloaked was apparent when I spotted Vilkas and Farkas around the table. The twins were wearing blue. Lydia was sat beside Farkas, pawing through what was before them on the table with a frown on her face.

More blue. Stormcloak blue; even I could make out the familiar shade in the wan light. It was the armour belonging to the Stormcloaks we had killed the previous day.

The afterglow of Hadvar's words to me diminished as I understood, immediately, what Vilkas' idea was.

Vilkas rose as we approached. I shuddered at the sight of my beloved friend in the colours of my enemy. With barely a glance to our joined hands, he turned to me and grimaced, holding out one of the azure garments.

"You...need to put this on," he sighed regretfully.

I pursed my lips, grasping Hadvar's hand a little tighter. "I am not going to pretend to be my sister."

"You forget," Vilkas tilted his head; his eyes determined and his offering maintained. "It is your sister who is pretending to be you."

Cursing, I snatched the armour from him. "We have a legitimate reason for being in Windhelm, Vilkas," I sighed, closing my eyes to reign in the force behind my words. "There is no reason to hide."

"If yesterday's altercation is anything to judge by," Vilkas countered sternly, "we have every reason to hide, until we are standing before Stormcloak himself to deliver the Jarl's message."

I looked up to him again, frustrated. Seeing the stoic resolve in his stubborn, silvery eyes, I turned to Lydia and Farkas, and frowned. "You agree with him?" I asked, already knowing that Farkas would do whatever his brother bade.

Predictably, Farkas nodded.

Lydia hesitated, a blue cuirass clenched in her fist. She met my gaze across the room, and nodded as well. "I'm sorry, little one, but he is right. What happened yesterday," she sighed, and shrugged, somewhat helplessly, "The fact is; the Stormcloaks are afraid of your sister. This will be the surest, fastest way in, and out of the city. The surest way to keep you safe," she added.

"Not if Stormcloak arrests us for approaching him in this manner," I countered, letting go of Hadvar's hand to cross my arms at my companions.

"He won't arrest us," Vilkas grumbled, returning to his chair. "This is the right way," Vilkas continued before I could counter, nodding for emphasis. "I was thinking about how we could do this, all night," he squared me with a flat expression. "It is fortuitous that we learned so much from the soldiers yesterday," he muttered.

"Fortuitous?" I gaped, unable to believe what I was hearing.

"Celeste, think," Vilkas commanded, his voice rising. "You heard that soldier – Giselle is not in Windhelm right now. By waltzing in as a representative of the Jarl of Whiterun, you expose the lie they have fought so hard to maintain. Stormcloak would consider himself justified to apprehend you. But," his tone eased as he glanced to Hadvar, and waited.

I turned to Hadvar too, barely containing my bubbling indignation as I paused to see what he would make of this. He knew the Stormcloaks better than any of us.

Hadvar wore a flat expression; his eyes on my shield brother as he finished Vilkas' sentence.

"But if we walk into Windhelm as Stormcloaks," Hadvar murmured. "We pose no threat, to him, or to your sister's position. He is right," Hadvar turned to me. I could tell by the fire in his eyes that he hated to admit it. "Our mission is not about you and your sister. We do this for Whiterun, and this is the simplest way to ensure delivery of the Jarl's message."

It somehow relieved me to see that Hadvar was angry about this path, and I found myself nodding in the face of his reply.

"Exactly," Vilkas agreed, seeming relieved. "Get changed, and leave your lute and everything we don't need here. I've spoken to Gilfre this morning, and we will return here tonight, so we go in as light as possible," his tone shifted from stern to orderly. His silvery eyes flicked to me. "I saw your sister at the Nightgate. She wore a battle axe on her hip, so you will wear the Jarl's axe on yours. And...leave your hair wild, and loose," he added with some reluctance. "The wind can sweep it back, during the ride north."

"Wild and loose?" confused, I shook my head. "Giselle never lets a hair fall out of place-"

"But you're not going in as Giselle," Vilkas reminded me with a small tilt to the corner of his mouth. "You're dressing as the woman she believes you to be. Now," he addressed the others swiftly. "The longer we delay, the greater chance there is of the Stormcloaks learning about the clash yesterday. We leave in fifteen minutes."

I huffed my offence at what Vilkas had suggested about my hair, cursing my sister for the thousandth time as the others began to move. I stared down at the Stormcloak blue in my fist, and clenched my hand so tight that my knuckles turned white.

Deep down, I knew that he was right, but I did not have to like it. But with Giselle out of Windhelm, I had to put her out of my mind, and think only of Whiterun's needs. Today, I was their messenger.

Before the day was through, we would know whether or not Whiterun was going to war.

---

A/n: I am so, so sorry for the delay. Work is kicking my butt. I can't wait to write the next chapter.
Reman Cyrodiil - I'll send you a PM over the next few days regarding your questions about TTLS/Sarina.
Thanks for your patience. I hope this one was up to scratch.