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.

50. Going Home

Chapter 50: Going Home

My first instinct was to slap Delphine, but Farkas caught my arm before I could lift it.

A rumbling reminder that I didn't need to answer her registered. We have the horn. We can go. I barely heard what my shield-brother said beyond a sudden ringing in my ears.

I couldn't tear my eyes from Delphine as indignation swelled and spilled through me, searing hot, threatening to consume what remained of my control. Of all the manipulative – it was a low blow, even for her. I clenched my jaw tight and shook my head.

"No Farkas, it's all right," I replied with a steadiness that somehow sounded as though it was occurring miles from me. "I will answer. Giselle is her own woman."

Delphine's eyes widened in disbelief. "You think your own sister deserves the Thalmor for standing up for what she believes in?" she huffed. "Better to have no empathy than to misapply it as you do, Passero."

"I'm can't - storm the Thalmor Embassy and demand they hand her over!" I fired.

"Celeste – c'mon," Farkas tugged purposefully.

"I said nothing about storming anywhere," Delphine licked her lips; flickered Farkas the briefest of glances as I shrugged him off. "And, you didn't answer the question," she added with more resolve. "Do you believe your sister deserves torture for what she did?"

"Of course I don't – nobody deserves-!"

"Good," she cut me off, standing taller. "What if I told you that we can free her? Would you do it?"

Deflating, exasperated, I huffed bleakly. "Nobody escapes the Thalmor," I muttered.

The Blade smirked. "And what do you think I've been doing for the last thirty years of my life?"

"You weren't locked up in one of their cells-"

"All the better," Delphine stepped out from behind the table, motioning toward the door. "We know exactly where she is. I can't draw you a map, but I know a guy-"

"No – stop. I haven't agreed to any of this," I glanced Farkas' way. My shield-brother looked distinctly uncomfortable, but threw me a half-shrug in answer to my wordless question; should I go after Giselle?

I turned back to the Blade. He didn't know, and it wasn't fair of me to ask him; this was between Delphine and I.

She had been silent for too long. Her eyes were on the floor and she was smiling – a small, ironic curl to one side of her mouth. "I envy you, Passero," she murmured thoughtfully. "I am so infrequently offered a simple choice that I have forgotten how others might take liberty to consider options."

She was trying to manipulate me, even now. "Matters of trust are rarely simple," I replied quietly.

"No. They're not," she placed her hands on her hips; glanced to the door. "So let me make it simple for you," she sighed, squaring me. "Go back to the Greybeards. Tell them of your epiphany, or whatever you want to call it. Just – examine your purpose, after that. Figure out whose side you're on. Skyrim needs you here, not on some mountaintop using that voice of yours on the clouds."

Vilkas had said much the same to me in the past. So, against my better judgement, I found myself agreeing with her. And – to absolve the dragons but condemn Giselle, without knowing the full truth of either? I was a hypocrite.

"And more than ever, your sister needs you," she continued emphatically.

"Yes all right," I snapped, clenching my eyes shut to resist the urge to thu'um her across the room. "You have made your point," I admitted. "Tell me your plan."

Farkas grunted with annoyance. "You're serious?"

Delphine's expression lifted; flat to confused. The look was gone in a flash.

"You can see sense," she quipped, recovering; her voice once again oozed authority. "Good. Because my plan hinges on how good a bard you really are."

"How so?" I deadpanned.

"The Thalmor love their parties," she smirked, but there was no humour to it. "How much do you know about Vittoria Vici?"

The two statements weren't really connected. I arched an eyebrow. "Enough, I suppose?" I had never been introduced to her in Solitude, but then the snooty woman and I had never taken any great interest in each other.

"Enough to be her?"

"I don't follow."

"If I get someone to magic you to look like her, could you do it – could you play her part, for an hour or two?" she explained swiftly.

For a beat, I stared at Delphine as my mind knit together what she was actually proposing. "Pretend I'm the Emperor's cousin at a Thalmor party?" my head span. "Are you insane?"

"Perhaps so, but you haven't answered the question," Delphine tilted her head; her unerring icy gaze never left me. "Could you do it?"

My exasperation peaked and I held a hand out in entreaty. "Do what? Infiltrate the Thalmor embassy, somehow tie them to the rise of the dragons, and rescue my sister? As Vittoria Vici?"

Delphine stood back, seeming satisfied, and crossed her arms. "Sounds easy when you put it like that. Maybe you can pull it off."

Crumpling down into the chair, I stared at the tabletop, suddenly numb. "Farkas, can I trouble you to get me a drink?" I murmured.

Farkas made a sound of agreement and stalked towards the bar.

Glancing up, I fixed the Blade with a cautious look. If it was within my power to free my sister from Thalmor torture, I had to try, even if I had no idea what I would do with her if I managed it. "Tell me what you want me to do," I murmured.

–

"So..." Farkas blew out a great puff of air.

I stared at the road – beyond the road – idly guiding my horse onto the path leading west. "So," I echoed quietly.

Finally, my shield-brother and I were alone; we had left Delphine in Kynesgrove minutes ago. She was to journey back to Riverwood to arrange papers and a distraction for the real Lady Vici, and we were to go to...

"Solitude, huh?" he commented, too idly.

"Mm."

"Last place in Skyrim you want to go."

"Yeah."

"To prepare to infiltrate the Thalmor Embassy."

"Uh-huh."

After a weighty pause, Farkas sighed. "Vilkas is going to kill us."

"Well," I reconsidered swiftly. "My infiltration. There's no way you can come in there with me. Don't worry, I'll deal with Vilkas."

Farkas made an aghast choking sound, but took a moment to form a coherent sentence around utterances including 'alone' and 'Thalmor' and a whole lot of swearing.

I let him get it out of his system, and fixed my eyes on the horizon.

"Why are you letting her control you?" he finally managed.

"I'm not," I squared him with a hard look. "She thinks she's manipulating me. Let her think it."

"She's using you to collect information she wants, with your sister as bait," he growled. "Going after Giselle didn't cross your mind until she put the thought there."

"No," I admitted in a regretful whisper. "And perhaps it should have."

I could feel Farkas' silvery gaze on me, but for the moment, couldn't meet it as shame prickled at the back of my neck.

"She betrayed you. Betrayed your family, all of Skyrim," he reminded quietly; darkly.

Frowning sadly, I tried to collect my thoughts. He was right, but...

"Farkas...I don't trust Delphine," I conceded. "And yes. Giselle made stupid choices and has done horrible things, by all accounts," I faltered. "I don't think I can ever forgive her, but that's not what I've been asked to do," I glanced ahead again, still uncertain of how to assemble this...unease into words.

"I feel as though I am only seeing part of a much bigger picture," I admitted finally. "The Thalmor should never have taken her in the manner that they did. They could have walked into camp and asked Tullius to hand her over, and he'd have been in no position to refuse. But they didn't," a white cloud puffed before me as I sighed. "They paralysed her and stole her away in the dead of night."

A sudden thought took me. I looked swiftly to my shield-brother, derailing whatever he had been about to say. "What did you sense from Delphine?"

Farkas grunted in frustration. "Walls. Paranoia. And more walls."

"Walls?"

"Yeah," he winced as he tilted his head; tried to explain. "She's been hiding for so long, she's taught herself not to feel a whole lot."

"That bodes well," I muttered.

Delphine does not pull your strings, I assured as I frowned at the skyline. I could walk away from this at any time.

As we drew nearer to Solitude, a surprisingly fierce sense of longing overcame me. I was apprehensive as ever about returning – I had been avoiding the city for months. But in conflict to the deep-seated anxiety was a sudden desire to walk through the familiar streets and buy breakfast at the marketplace. To stand by the ocean and listen to the crash of the waves against the cliffs as the sea spray dusted my cheeks. To visit the Temple; take flowers to my parents' graves.

Perhaps it was time? Perhaps I could return?

It was full light by the time we reached the outskirts of Solitude and turned our mounts onto the path to Katla's Farm. The stable owner was directing her son and another farm boy when Farkas and I dismounted in the entryway.

When she noticed our arrival she hurried over, but there was no mistaking her faltered step or the guarded look she threw between us when she drew near enough to recognise me.

"Morning, Katla," I greeted wearily with a forced smile. I could only reason her wariness as the product of gossip about Giselle and I, and my heart plummeted at the prospect of stepping into town and being met with suspicion from everyone I had ever known.

Katla frowned and confusion marred her features. "Miss Celeste? What are you...?" she hesitated, taking in Farkas' presence.

He stood beside me saying nothing, with his reigns in his fist and a flat expression on his face. To those who didn't know him, I supposed his looming, dispassionate exterior would seem a little menacing.

"Farkas," I elbowed him discreetly as I cleared my throat, determined to promote ease; to prove that I was me. "This is Katla. She taught my sister and I to ride when we were little. Looked after our horses our whole lives, too," I pointedly reinforced my smile. "Farkas is my shield-brother," I introduced.

Farkas cracked a half-smile, holding out his reigns and mumbling a hello.

"Hail, Companion. Sorry," she shook her discomfort off; her eyes flickered back to me as she grabbed for Farkas' reigns. "I forgot – you're a Companion now. Strange," she mused. "You have given up the College, then?"

I shook my head. An itch crept down my neck and a taunting voice in my mind told me I had been a fool to think I could come here and avoid such probing questions. "I...don't know."

"But, I suppose you are too busy to study," she reached for my reigns, feigning a casual air. "They're saying you're the Dragonborn."

I didn't need wolf senses to feel the nerves radiating off her. With a snort; an attempt to diffuse the tension, I handed them over. "So they tell me, too. Who's your they?"

"Well – everyone, I suppose," she owned quietly with a brief roll to her eyes. "And who's this, then?" she turned to my mare, brushing her hand down her nose as the dapple grey flicked her ears and stomped a hoof. "I haven't seen you before, darling."

"Oh," truthfully, I had been too preoccupied by...everything, to ask if my horse had a name. "Um...?"

"Misty," Farkas grunted, flicking his head toward his piebald. "And that's Patch."

"Seriously?" I lifted my eyebrows at him. The two most uncreative names ever bestowed upon horses? "I've been riding around on a grey horse named Misty?"

"That's what the hand in Whiterun called her," Farkas shrugged. "Does it matter?"

Katla chuckled fondly. "Oh, Skulvar," she murmured, though looked endearingly to Farkas' horse as she said it. "Never change."

Farkas retrieved our bags and I passed Katla some money and advised that we wouldn't need the horses over the coming week.

Of course, if all went to plan, I would be leaving Solitude in three night's time, briefly. But I didn't want her to know that.

It was imperative that the people of Solitude not only saw me, but knew my intended schedule for this...visit. They would be my alibi, if anything went wrong at the Embassy.

"This is absurd," I hissed to myself as Farkas and I stepped onto the main road and ascended to Solitude.

Farkas made a sound of agreement. "Not opposed to walking away, sister," he grumbled, in a way that told me he already knew my answer.

Shaking my head, I clawed my fingers through my mane, untangling what remained bound in the grimy braid as I looked upon the high, grey-stone walls. Dappled, shifting shadows danced over the vertical surface, cast by the windswept, leafy trees scattered around the outer borders, clinging to the cliffs for purchase.

"Not yet," I decided. Grimacing, tingling with nerves, I re-braided hastily. Delphine's target party was in three night's time, and our only job prior was talk to her Malborn. Before that, I simply needed to be seen.

Self-consciousness joined my roiling anxiety as I realised I could smell myself. When had I last washed? High Hrothgar? With a wrinkle to my nose, I determined our first course of action; go to the Winking Skeever, hire a room, and take a bath. I was a Passero, after all, and in Solitude, appearances had to be maintained.

–

The attitude of the Haafingar guards on duty outside should have been my first clue that something bad was about to happen. There was only caution and bleakness to their demeanours as they let us into Solitude without incident.

One mumbled a mechanical morning greeting, while the other wordlessly held open the panel of heavy steel, then clanged it closed behind us.

The walls and buildings were all still there, just as I remembered them; tall, grey-blue stone supported by thick wooden beams and strung with coloured bunting, crawling with tangles of verdant creepers. It was pretty; merry even, to look upon.

But the people milling around the courtyard inside the gate were thick with tension.

Nobody noticed my home coming, and I was a little relieved, given the state of me – until I followed their gazes to the platform on the eastern wall.

A crowd of Legion officers and Captain Aldis, of the Solitude Guard. A prisoner – grimy tunic, hands bound before him and a shock of red hair, tied back at the base of his neck. Turning and squinting to get a better look – I recognised him – not by name, but I knew his face. He was local, I was sure of it.

Farkas' hand landed on my wrist, urging me to move. "C'mon. Don't need to see this," he said quietly.

My eyes widened as I noticed the final member of the party – a hooded headsman.

"Gods," I turned; my eyes traced the worn cobbles underfoot as Farkas towed me through the throng. We had arrived in time for an execution. Murmurs from the nearby townsfolk brushed past us – sad and angry and accusing, and all directed at the man about to lose his head.

"Roggvir Larsen, you have been found guilty of treason," Captain Aldis' voice rang out over the murmurs; weighed down by very evident, grim disappointment.

Roggvir Larsen? My head whipped up; I half-turned back, twisting my wrist in Farkas' grasp so he would stop with me.

"Just – wait," I whispered pleadingly to my shield-brother. I searched the prisoner – Roggvir – barely recognising him. His brother-in-law was the town fishmonger. I didn't really know him – they were merchants – but I knew of him.

The muffled sobs of a child drifted to me. Eyes wide in disbelief, I glanced over a little girl no older than Dorthe with her face buried in her mother's skirts. Glancing up to the girl's mother, the woman's name came to me; Greta. Roggvir's sister. I didn't really know her either. A blankness consumed her paled features while she held the little girl to her, brushing her back idly. Underneath her bonnet poked the same red hair as her brother.

"Why are you letting her blubber?" an angry voice spat toward Greta. "Nobody grieves a traitor!"

It was the woman who worked at the alchemy shop; her eyes narrowed to vicious slits. Her name eluded me. Greta ignored her; her eyes never left her brother.

"For assisting Ulfric Stormcloak and his people in their escape after the murder of the High King, you are sentenced to death by beheading," Aldis continued grimly.

The blood drained from my face as I slowly faced the platform again; my grip on Farkas' arm strengthened and time seemed to slow down.

The cries and boos of the crowd drowned out my aghast, "What?"

Farkas' breath fell close to my ear. "Celeste," he hissed.

Glancing to him swiftly – he had ducked down to my level – I met his eyes fearfully, and saw conflict in his silvery depths.

"Giselle helped the Stormcloaks escape, through our garden," my lip shuddered as I searched him for answers. "Why are they beheading a man for something she did?" I pleaded.

"I don't know," Farkas muttered, detangling my hand to lift his arm; wound it around my shoulders; rose to his full height and flickered a dark look toward the woman who had growled at Greta.

"There was no murder," Roggvir's voice cried out from the platform; thick with emotion. "Stormcloak challenged the High King, as is our way-"

My eyes slammed shut – this again? That lie was still circulating? It was too much to bear, too fast. I tried to block it out – the sounds, the lies, the crying of the little girl and the catcalls of the townspeople. All of it.

Farkas took my reaction as permission to resume towing me away from the scene. I let him, but we had lost our chance to leave before the axe fell.

When the dull thunk came to me and the onlookers cried out, shocked but morbidly fascinated, my stomach clenched. My eyes watered. My throat burned.

I pitched forward and threw up.

Farkas swore as he reinforced his grasp to keep me from falling into the mess. It mostly landed on the steps of the Winking Skeever. When my stomach could vacate no more, I coughed and coughed while tears blurred everything before me. I was being lifted – the lighting dimmed, we were inside – Farkas called out to someone for a room, and water, lots of water.

The Skeever, I registered.

I felt curious eyes on me but didn't care. I cried into his shoulder, horrified, angry, confused and so guilty while Farkas did everything for me. Again.

Even once we had retreated to the upstairs room, the world blurred for a time. My shield-brother deposited me on a table and pulled the cork from a bottle of wine with his teeth, passing it to me.

"Drink," he ordered, stalking toward the window and slamming it closed.

I jumped at the sound, though it brought me somewhat back to myself. He was just standing there, his shoulders tense, staring out the window and taking deep, noisy breaths.

Glancing between my shield-brother and the bottle, I placed it on the wooden surface beside me with a thump and burst out thickly; "Is that your solution to everything-?"

Farkas turned swiftly, his eyes dark and glowering as they darted around the room. "Calm down," he barked. His eyes flashed amber as he gripped the window sill and grit his teeth.

I stilled. Was he talking to me, or himself? The anger rolled off him in waves, but none of his fury flowed toward me. No - I looked again. This wasn't anger; it was fierce restraint. Fresh guilt surged through me; he was suffering. He had gotten us away – he had appeased his wolf and protected me – but the looming tension of what I had to do – and the horror of what we had just landed in – was fracturing his control.

Sliding off the table, I approached as, unbidden, a song swelled out of me. "Do you fear me, dear intruder? Will you listen when I speak?" I sang quietly. The notes trembled, thick with tears and made unsteady by the grief coursing through me.

Farkas stilled. His eyes, brimming with gold, found mine in an instant, and fixed on me.

I pushed on. I had never had to bring Farkas down before, and a small, defeated part of me insisted that I wouldn't have the strength to reach him; I had realised he was in trouble too late. "Do you want to hear my story? Know the terror that I wreak?" I held a hand out gingerly; wrapped my fingers around his knuckles and pried them from the window ledge.

"Follow silken webs through darkness," I clasped the enormous hand in both of mine, "and you'll find just what you seek."

There was more to The Whisperer's Song, but I opted to quietly hum the next verse as I glanced down, turned Farkas' hand in mine, and traced the lines on his palm with my fingertips.

When his hand stopped shaking, I squeezed it and glanced up cautiously. Silvery eyes met mine; just as they were supposed to be. "Better?" I asked softly.

He huffed a laugh, as though I was crazy for asking. With a glance to the world outside; "Yeah," he conceded gruffly.

I released his hand and took a step back. "Executions always bring out the worst in people," I swallowed. "Can't imagine what all those emotions must have felt like."

"Yeah."

"Sorry I got sick on your boots."

"Oh," he glanced down, checking said boots. His shoulders rolled as he shrugged. "They've seen worse."

I laughed quietly, feeling alarmingly weightless as I returned to the table and retrieved the wine. I sobered, turning back to offer it and an apologetic smile. "Guess we had better get to work."

Farkas accepted the bottle, took a quick swig, and lowered it to his side, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "Yeah," he repeated quietly.

–

The finality of what had occurred settled over me while I bathed. There was no way to tell whether Roggvir's execution had been warranted – not at this time – and there was also no way to bring him back. He was in Sovngarde now, and whether he had died for my sister's crime or not, it was done.

If I managed to drag Giselle out of the Thalmor Embassy in three night's time, she would owe me her life. I had worried over what to do with her if I succeeded – whether I could rescue her from one kind of death to deliver her to people who would surely give her another – trial and a public execution. Whether she answered my questions about her actions would determine my course, I decided.

Farkas had ordered a bath as well when he had realised there would be no moving me from mine, where it had been set up behind the dressing screen for privacy. After living in close proximity to my shield-brother at High Hrothgar, I was beyond the embarrassment of the accidental eye-full I had caught from time to time, though it didn't stop me from trying to make him behave a little more discreetly.

After washing he had scrubbed his armour free of dirt, blood – and vomit – for he insisted on wearing it, instead of sending it away with mine. His eyes were lined in fresh war paint, and his inky hair was almost dry, hanging lankly over his shoulders like thick, black eels.

He seemed much more himself – calmer at least. The slow preparations had done much to resolve us both.

I had acknowledged while looking out the window before we departed that Solitude was no longer my home. To accept this relieved me; freed me from the anxiety I had felt over facing judgement from those who had known me since I was a child. It freed me of the guilt I had borne for avoiding my parents' resting place.

It was midday by the time Farkas and I left the Winking Skeever, and a determined, somewhat chilling sense of normality appeared to have taken hold of the town. The sun shone in a dark blue, cloudless sky, and hawks lazily circled the highest towers, buffeted by the ocean zephyrs.

I walked the familiar streets, breaking in new ankle-boots, dressed in a long, beige woollen dress and half-length maroon cape, embroidered with ivory knot-work around the seams that I'd had sent over from Radiant Raiments across the way not half an hour earlier. It was odd to feel skirts swishing around stockinged legs after weeks of wearing training gear and armour, but it was a nice kind of weird, as though I was dressed up for a role I had once been accustomed to playing. My hair was washed; the long curls left free to dry in the open air, and my skin was clean for the first time in many days. My armour and coat were being seen to by the people at Raiments, and I would collect them tomorrow.

"After we're done in Solitude," I said amicably to Farkas, "we should stop in at Whiterun. I miss it," I admitted as we made our winding way to one of the food vendors in the market square.

Farkas sent me one of his open, happy smiles, but opted to say nothing and simply stepped into the queue behind me.

After lunch, Farkas and I ascended to the Blue Palace. I bypassed Proudspire; tall, cold and boarded up, and decided not to bother Melaran after all. There was no point in removing the security only to have to ward it up again in a week's time. Farkas and I could stay at the inn until we were done here.

It was dampening to step through the open gateway and past the garden beds of the Palace courtyard. Someone had been tending to the flowers – the thistles were gone, and the rows of remaining plants were painfully neat. The guards posted around the garden were standing to attention, exchanging glances as we passed, but they said nothing to me or my shield-brother.

"Hail, Dragonborn," the one on the door was the first to speak in a low, thick accent.

"Good afternoon," I dipped a brief acknowledgement as I stepped through the opened door.

Farkas huffed quietly as the door closed behind us. "Feels like you're expected."

I send him a quick, tight smile. If we hadn't been noticed at Roggvir's execution, someone would have certainly seen Farkas and I in the marketplace taking lunch, and would have rushed to the palace to bring Jarl Elisef the news. It was very odd to accept that I was a subject of interest, but I could not begrudge it today; I was in Solitude to be seen, after all.

The Palace was as it had been that day so long ago. Elegant lines, neat tiles, tended plants. The deathbells were gone; in their place were more clusters of snowberries, thick with fruit, for it was that time of year.

The sense of sameness continued. I ascended to the left of the indoor garden, and alighting each step brought forward a memory of walking the stairs with father with my lute strapped to my back, humming Matthild. As I glanced across the reception room, taking in the stewards and Thanes and Jarl Elisef, all busy in their own way, my eyes drifted to the empty throne beside the former High Queen's. I recalled how handsome, how reasonable the High King had been, even in the moments before his murder.

I saw it all, but I did not lose myself to the memories. As with Roggvir; it was horrible. But it was past. And this reminder, while somewhat chilling, set my mind into focus. I had a job to do. I glanced over the tables and chairs set out for the nobles and Thanes, searching for the woman I was to imitate in a few days time. Lady Vittoria Vici was there – standing by a tall plant holding a goblet, in conversation with Thane Bryling.

In the corner of my eye, I caught the tall and stocky Falk Firebeard bustling toward Farkas and I, and casually glanced away from the Emperor's cousin, meeting his welcoming eyes with a smile.

"Lady Dragonborn," the Jarl's steward greeted in an undertone; regardless, I felt a number of eyes in the room turn toward us, including Lady Vici's.

"We received word of your arrival in Solitude a mere hour ago. The Jarl hoped you would call," he offered his elbow. "She is in audience at this very moment, as you can see – but if you and your shield-brother would care to wait?"

So, they already knew everything about us, of course. Falling into the role a little too easily, I accepted his assistance with thanks; let him lead me to the tables.

Farkas trailed behind silently. Once I was seated and Firebeard had pressed a delicate goblet of something onto me, Farkas assumed a very Vilkas-like, rigid position beside my chair and crossed his arms.

I sipped the drink – sweet, bubbly white wine – and smiled up to my shield-brother. I could not outright tell him to relax, for we were under the observing eye of practically everybody in the room, but I hoped that my actions would convey as much. "Help yourself, Farkas," I motioned toward the tables, overflowing with pickled delicacies and cold meats. "Little different to the mead hall, hey?" I sighed.

Farkas' arms remained crossed, but he tilted his head, shaking it and letting a half-smile out. "Just a little."

I could almost feel our observers relax at the gesture, for it softened his expression considerably. Within moments, the Jarl's Housecarl, a man by the name of Bolgeir, was standing before me. I sat straighter as I glanced up to him in confusion.

"Lady Dragonborn," he dipped his head respectfully; his wiry red hair brushed his weathered cheeks. It was then that I recalled with a pang that he had been one of father's friends. "It warms my heart to see you back in Solitude. We have been too long without a Passero in these halls."

Standing to meet him, I smiled more genuinely. I had not missed Solitude, but I could not be rude about it. "That's very kind of you, Sir Bolgeir. I am afraid that our visit is fleeting; I must return to Whiterun, and then the Greybeards, at the end of the week."

He nodded knowingly, lifting his honey-brown eyes to mine. "I would expect no less from you," he acknowledged. "Samuel always-"

"Ah, I was wondering when you'd come back to us," Bolgeir was cut off abruptly by the arrival of Thane Erikur. The scruffy Thane continued heartily; "Heard you're a Thane yourself now, to Balgruuf? Off you pop now, Bolgeir, the Lady and I are talking," he added as an afterthought, without even sparing a glance for the Housecarl.

The man had never spoken to me in my life to be this familiar. "Lord Erikur," I greeted with a curt nod, blinking in surprise. "Um, yes. That's right. Thane of Whiterun, these past months."

"Excuse me, my Lady," Bolgeir bowed his head and retreated, casting Erikur a dark, sideways glance as he left.

I opened my mouth to call after him, but Thane Erikur sidestepped into the space the Housecarl had occupied, in my direct line of sight as he lifted his tankard toward me. "I was relieved to hear that someone was looking out for you," he admitted, motioning for me to take my seat again.

Biting my tongue, I sat, for in this room, he outranked me. Thane Erikur settled into the chair beside me; tilted his knees toward me. To my left, I could feel the desire to hit the presumptuous man rolling off Farkas.

"Now, tell me Celeste – whatever happened to that salacious sister of yours?" he leaned over, arching an eyebrow conspiratorially at me - as though she was our private joke.

Perhaps it was my own desire to clobber him that I was feeling. I was relieved that Sir Bolgeir had left, before that had been said. Arching an eyebrow, I opened my mouth to reply, but I was at a loss for words in my native tongue.

"Word has it the little minx has been warming the enemy's bed for quite some time now," he shook his head as his eyes widened. "Perhaps it's best that your father didn't survive, to be faced with that knowledge."

Farkas stepped into my field of view; his intentions plain – though Erikur seemed none the wiser. I grabbed Farkas' arm, gripping tightly to stop him as my jaw clenched. "I am unaware of such matters," I managed tightly.

"Really Erikur, that was out of line," more bodies joined us, female this time, and I tore my focus from the man I wanted to Fus into Oblivion, and looked into the eyes of the Emperor's cousin. She was standing beside Thane Bryling, tall and haughty – it had been Bryling who had spoken.

Thane Erikur sat back, resting his arm along the back of his chair as he crossed a foot over his knee. "I see no point in equivocating the truth amongst our peers, Bryling," he sipped from his tankard. "But certainly – play games if you must," he waggled his fingers at her.

She cast Erikur a reproachful, unimpressed look. "I think you will find Lord Erikur too deep in his cups for civil conversation today, Lady Dragonborn," Thane Bryling murmured pointedly, then turned her sharp eyes to me. "Would you care to join us?"

"Thank you," I stood hastily, releasing Farkas in the process, opting not to say goodbye, or even look back.

"A wise decision," Lady Vici clipped.

They turned away; Bryling motioned for me to follow. I did, and Farkas followed me. My eyes were on the Emperor's cousin as we walked and ignored Thane Erikur's mutters behind our backs.

I was not here to socialise; I was here to observe. I pushed my indignation into the pit I had reserved for comments such as his, and made myself take in how Lady Vici walked and held herself. The woman was in her mid-twenties, but dressed as though she was in her forties in a horrible green thing that hung on her thin body like a sack, layered with a darker green overcoat; expensive, but ugly enough to be emerging fashion. I hoped that it wouldn't catch on. Her hair had been recently trimmed – the ends were too sharp – and a gold comb held most of the dark curls up from her shoulders and back from her face. There was gold jewellery – lots of it – far too much to be decent – pendants and earrings and cuffs around her wrists and upper arms. The lanterns played with the enormous diamond on her finger as her hand moved back and forth.

I stored all of this information for later use as the two women stopped by the tall plant they had been talking beside when I had arrived. I met them both with a grateful smile.

Thane Bryling offered me one in return, though it was largely guarded. "Lady Vici was telling me about the flowers she is having arranged for her wedding this coming Sun's Dawn."

With feigned interest, I turned toward the woman. "I would love to hear about them."

"Yes; my little Bosmeri florist is arranging the designs as we speak," the Emperor's cousin seemed to chew her words. I wondered if it was a by-product of speaking through lips that never seemed to fully open? I could emulate that if I bit my cheeks while I spoke, surely – but perhaps the Alteration spell would help with that.

Lady Vici droned on about her wedding, and Thane Bryling and I let her. I sent a silent thank you to the Thane for unwittingly giving me this opportunity to monitor the woman I would have to become.

After ten minutes of talk about flowers, Thane Bryling hmmed in consideration. "It is certainly going to be a sight to behold," she turned toward me. "And what of you, Lady Dragonborn? Word has it that you are betrothed to a soldier in the Legion."

"Um - yes," I stood to attention, wondering why – when – how – this had become common knowledge? Had Jarl Balgruuf spread the word – or perhaps the Legion? "Yes, that's right."

"Quite the little love story, from what I hear," Thane Bryling's eyes twinkled. "The Dragonborn and the Praefect. Very romantic."

"Oh - really?" I baulked, unable to suppress a flush.

Lady Vici pursed her lips. "Hmm, yes but quite a step down for you, my dear," she arched an eyebrow. "Perhaps if he makes General before you wed – then it wouldn't be quite so far a fall from graceful society."

"Perhaps they are in love, Tori," Thane Bryling responded through a smirk over the top of her goblet. "We aren't all fortunate enough to have our husbands arranged for us by our parents," she sipped.

I expected Lady Vici to turn defensive, but she surprised me – glancing lazily to the Thane as she huffed a haughty, largely cheerless laugh. "Oh, my dear Bry – I have offered to introduce you Unmid several times now. Just imagine how pleasant it would be for us both to reside in Riften upon my marriage. Why, such a connection would make us sisters."

Bryling winked knowingly at Lady Vici, tittering a laugh. "I am quite contented with my prospects in Solitude, thank you," she flickered a hasty glance over my shoulder; her eyes sparkling with some deep-seated secret.

Interesting, I mused, watching the exchange. Lady Vici was more nuanced than I had thought.

"Lady Dragonborn?" Falk Firebeard appeared by my side, nodding a brief hello to the other women. "The Jarl will see you now."

I thought I caught a muttered thank the Gods from Farkas, but when I glanced to him he was as expressionless as before.

"It was lovely talking to you," Thane Bryling said in farewell.

Taking my leave and depositing my goblet on a nearby table, I followed the Jarl's steward to the front of the audience chamber. I had learned much more than I could have hoped during the brief exchange. Vittoria Vici - Tori?! - was snooty and reserved, but there was a kind of forgiving humour there amongst those she was familiar with. There was even fondness.

"Celeste Passero, my Jarl," Falk announced me.

I was more grateful than he could have known that he had left off the string of accolades. Glancing up to the woman who had been High Queen of Skyrim, I belatedly recalled that I needed to curtsy, and did so as I roughly pushed my study of Vittoria Vici aside. In the corner of my eye, Farkas took a knee and lowered his head, unprompted.

"Miss Passero," the Jarl addressed in her authoritative tones. "I am pleased you came, given that this is probably the last place in Skyrim you wish to be."

I glanced up to her as a sudden empathy washed through me. She was young for any position of power – only twenty-four – and unlike Delphine's authority; battle-hardened and paranoid, Elisef's was brimming with anxiety.

I smiled hopefully at her. "I am sorry for staying away as long as I did."

"No apology necessary," she motioned for me to come forward; her crystalline blue eyes shone with interest as they flickered to my shield-brother, then back to me. "I am well aware that you have not been idle, or in any position to return. Who is your friend?"

Falk stepped forward hurriedly. "Apologies, my Jarl. Farkas of the Companions," he murmured.

"Of course," Jarl Elisef sat straighter, sending my shield-brother what looked like a practised smile. "Famously attracted to Whiterun, as well. I must ask Balgruuf what he puts in the water," her voice still wavered, but it was clear that she was trying to be nice. "You are welcome in my court any time you please, Companion."

"Thanks," Farkas sounded a little...choked.

I flashed him a curious look. He was grinning, his expression somewhere between adoring and goofy with his silvery eyes locked on the pretty young Jarl before him.

Okay, down boy. I swallowed my amusement as I glanced back to Jarl Elisef. He was not the first man to be captivated by her beauty, and he wouldn't be the last.

Her duty to my companion done, the Jarl turned her attention back to me. "You both are, for the duration of your stay in Solitude," she added, clearing her throat. "As Thane of Whiterun it is your right," she acknowledged, "but as daughter of my late husband's trusted Thane, it is my pleasure."

I expressed my gratitude openly, for I had hoped that she would offer. I intended on spending as much time as I could in her court over the next three days, to continue observing Vittoria Vici.

Our audience, under the judging eyes of the entire court, proceeded as propriety dictated. The Jarl asked several questions. The dragon situation dominated, and I answered her as truthfully as a public audience allowed. I made it known that I was visiting Solitude for research purposes, and would be leaving by week's end.

After minutes of conversation, Jarl Elisef seemed satisfied and sat back in her throne, more relaxed than I had ever perceived her to be. "If your research allows it, I would have a dinner in your honour tonight," without waiting for my response, she turned to Falk. "Prepare invitations for Aldis and Caesennius; Rikke too, if she has returned from her mission. They may bring five of their units, each."

Turning back to me as her steward bowed and retreated, she added with a small smile on her lips. "I am certain that the very sight of you at my table will boost morale, given the regretful event this morning."

Ordinarily, I would have spun some gracious excuse to decline; despite her good intentions, I was not a child, or a...a pet, to be brought out at parties to perform...

Well. Not unless I was being paid to perform. Shaking off my growing amusement – at myself this time – I dipped my head. She had asked me to be her guest, not her bard – and I would be able to paint a purer picture of Lady Vici with that time. "It would be my honour."

Once the arrangements had been finalised, Farkas and I took our leave. It would take a while to prepare for a dinner at the Palace, and I felt a need to withdraw from the scrutiny of the other members of the court for a time; their intensity was stifling.

Once clear of the gardens, I let out a shuddering breath and glanced Farkas' way. "You okay?"

Farkas laughed – low and easy. "I'm great. You?"

Recalling his dewy expression when Elisef had spoken to him, I smirked. "Yes. You did seem to enjoy yourself," I teased.

He cast me an unashamed grin. "She's very pretty, and so...pure," he turned his eyes to the heavens.

I couldn't mask my smile now. "They don't call her the fair for nothing," I told him in a sing-song voice.

"You know she wants you to be her friend, right?" he added in a knowing rumble. "She's very lonely. Misses her husband a lot. But, she likes you. Wants you to like her."

"I do like her," I replied truthfully, thoughtfully. I had understood Jarl Elisef wanted something from me, but I had not considered it might be social in nature when she was surrounded by so many people. I turned back to the road, pondering this, and replied as we by-passed the Bard's College. "She's had a lot of responsibility thrust upon her, and nobody truly believes she's capable of meeting it," I admitted quietly, glancing around the courtyard idly. Nobody was there – and given the time of afternoon, my colleagues would be in the middle of class. "Pressure without trust breeds loneliness, no matter how many people flit in and out of your life."

"Yeah," Farkas persisted. "But she's stronger than anyone gives her credit for. Loyal, and clever. Reminds me of someone," he smirked.

"Know her that well already, hmm?" I swatted his arm with a laugh. "Remember why we're here, brother."

He grunted in annoyance, glancing back to the road. "Trying my best to forget," he grumbled. "Don't like the idea of you being her. It won't end well."

"Trust me," I gave him a scathing look, after his talk on capabilities. "I have been trained to perform. I can do this," I added in murmur.

Because if I wanted to get into the Thalmor Embassy – it wasn't as though I had much of a choice.

–

Throughout dinner and for most of the next day, I remained by Jarl Elisef's side with Farkas as my guest. I had suggested we buy him some clothes fit for court but the Companion refused to wear anything but his armour, mumbling some excuse about fancy stuff being itchy. I gave up the cause for lost, understanding finally that it was a matter of pride when Jarl Elisef complimented him on wearing Skyforge steel so well during our first dinner.

Her concessions were many and friendly, and I took her openness to mean that Farkas had been correct; she wanted me to like her – perhaps even wanted a friend. I was ever-conscious that I would be leaving Solitude within the week, but I saw no reason to be bound by the cold, haughty propriety many of the other courtiers maintained in Elisef's presence, when she was so in want of companionship. And honestly, it was nice to laugh and talk with someone close to my own age, who understood what it was to have ones purpose in life whipped away and changed forever.

There was a second dinner to attend on our second night, but I stepped out of the inn on my own. I walked the chilly but familiar streets at dusk, wearing a new, pale-blue gown with my hair looped elegantly around my head.

Farkas stayed at the Skeever to make contact with Delphine's Malborn on my behalf, and had been sulky and less talkative than ever all afternoon. He didn't like being left behind – and not only because it was another reminder of our true purpose here. He wanted to come with me; wanted to see her again.

While I approached dinner with my head full of fond amusement over the teasing opportunities Farkas was openly giving me, I had been sufficiently distracted from his crush by the time I left the Palace late that night.

"She's asked me to be her Thane," I burst as I hurried into our room, shrugging off my cape and hanging it on the hook behind the door.

"Celeste, you're back-" Farkas greeted hastily – there was a shuffle of boots as he rose.

"I know, I can't possibly accept," I replied to the door, thunking my head against it, squeezing my eyes closed. "I will be of no use to her as Thane. But I don't want to...disappoint her," I turned around. "What should I-?"

The question died in my throat; Farkas was not alone. My shield-brother stood where I knew he would be – by the window. But standing between us, rising from a chair, was-

"By the Gods," Hadvar whispered; his eyes misted as they flickered over me.

My heart swelled with affection – I was sure he hadn't realised he'd spoken.

"I mean," he winced, smiling tentatively. "Um. Hello."

My misgivings over becoming Elisef's Thane scattered. He was here, somehow Hadvar was here, and he was safe, and nothing that had occurred at the Blue Palace, or anywhere else, mattered any more.

"How?" was all I managed as I hurried forward.

He lifted his hands uncertainly as I drew nearer. His hesitance; his faraway stare made me all too conscious of my finery. It had made him so doubtful at Dragonsreach...for a time. What was going through his mind now?

"I missed you so much," I gasped into his shoulder, throwing my arms around his neck. Weeks of pent-up yearning crashed over me with a shudder.

With a relieved sigh, Hadvar's arms encircled me. "Likewise," burying his nose in my hair, he took a deep, satisfied breath.

"Right," Farkas grumbled. His footfalls were heavy as he stalked away. "I need a drink."

"Farkas – sorry," I glanced back. "You don't have to leave-"

"Yeah," Farkas cut me off with an amused rumble. "Yeah, I do. Tell Hadvar why we're in Solitude, when you're done reuniting, okay?" he added pointedly.

My chest flipped as he clicked the door closed behind him. I closed my eyes in regret and resettled on Hadvar's chest. Damnit. Farkas knew Hadvar would talk me out of going to the Embassy.

"You okay?" Hadvar asked quietly. "You're...shaking."

I leant back to tell him about the Embassy, but got stuck convincing myself this wasn't a dream. "I can't believe you're here," I admitted. "When you weren't in Whiterun, I feared Tullius had sent you to the back of beyond, and I might never see you again."

"Well, we've both been to the beyond in the past weeks," Hadvar eased back, brushing my arms gently. "But, we're together now." he glanced over me. "Gods, look at you," he murmured longingly. "I can hardly breathe."

Biting my bottom lip to suppress the swell of affection, I made myself find some words. "Are you in Solitude for long?"

He shook his head, faltered, blinking as he looked away as though to clear his head. "Not really. There's a...thing. Work thing. Not important," he smiled reassuringly.

"Have you...been talking to Farkas?"

His brows furrowed and he eased back a little more. "For five minutes, before you arrived. I wanted to go to the Palace the moment they told me you were in Solitude," he confessed, puffing out a breath of air, "but I...wasn't certain it would be...appropriate," he met my eyes, quietly cautious.

My heart ached with fondness at his adorable expression and the glow in my chest thrummed. "That's a shame," I pouted. "Jarl Elisef is eager to meet you;" I had talked enough of Hadvar in the past two days that she actually was. "But, half the court believe my Legion sweetheart," I lifted my eyebrows, "is a figment of my imagination, devised to ward off suitors. We might have danced in Elisef's ballroom and put the rumours to rest."

Hadvar's hand on my waist tightened as he chuckled; warmth that reached his relief-filled eyes. "You too, hey?" he lifted a hand to my cheek, brushing a fallen curl aside as wonder-filled stormy-grey tracked his movements. "When I talk of you, I'm fairly sure they chalk it up to a knock on the head at Helgen."

"Mm," I leaned into his touch. He had talked about me? The idea warmed me. "That would explain a lot. It must have been quite a knock, to put up with so much uncertainty," I teased. "Was it the bear?"

He drew closer, laughing softly. "You are the least uncertain part of my life."

My eyes danced open. "Likewise," I agreed, biting my lip again to temper my glee.

His eyes darted furtively to my mouth, then back again, and the amusement left his eyes. When he spoke, he was breathless; "Celeste, I know – our lives are ridiculous and, I understand if everything is too much after Riverwood, and High Hrothgar, but – I dream about these lips," his words brushed them; his nose caressed my cheek. "May I at least...?" he whispered earnestly.

Why was he asking? With an incredulous noise, I captured his lips, and secured my arms around his neck.

The sound he made was surprised, but he recovered quickly, clasping my hips, guiding me back step by step while we kissed. Within moments there was a clunk as his arm met a solid surface. I leaned back, pressed against wood and something softer; something that smelled of fresh air and hearthfire smoke. A quick glance revealed – I was between Hadvar and my cape – we were at the door. Wordlessly, Hadvar leaned up, briefly focussed elsewhere, and I searched his eyes as I caught my breath.

Click.

"That's better," Hadvar smiled contentedly as he leaned back down, his arm pressed to the door above me. "No interruptions," he descended, brushing his nose against mine so I would tilt my head. "I mean – if you want-" he rumbled into my ear, hand flexing on my waist. "If you just want to kiss, I'm more than fine with that-"

I giggled as his scratchy stubble tickled my cheek. Standing on my toes, nerves shot through me as I whispered onto the shell of his ear, "How fast can you get me out of this dress?"

With a shuddering, relieved laugh his hands fell to my hips again and he took a step back, assessing the challenge. "How much do you like it?" his fingers closed around the skirt, tugging me to him.

"It's brand new," I landed against him. It was a pleasant place to be; I brushed his plated chest – this armour is new – riddled with anticipation and wanting the barrier removed.

He was really here, and we were really alone. He seemed a little trepidatious about my wants and needs, but there was no awkwardness; no regret. Just the same joy, the same love there had always been.

"In that case, a proposal, Lady Dragonborn," Hadvar teased in a low, captivating timbre, releasing the skirt. His hands danced around my neck to work slowly, carefully, some might say torturously, at the buttons running down my spine.

My eyes drifted up, entranced by the brush of his fingertips on the back of my neck, his voice - everything. "Proposal?" I whispered, swallowing.

The cheekiness shifted and he nodded slowly; his eyes grew dark with desire. He continued to pick at my buttons as he whispered; "Help me out of my armour first, and the dress might survive."

I was already at work, unlacing the ties running down the side of the chest plate eagerly. "You had a head start," I whined, gasping as he eased my dress over my shoulder and leant down to kiss my collarbone. "And – ah, you keep distracting me," I laughed breathlessly.

"Maybe I want you to win," he murmured, his lips smoothing across my neck, along my throat, under my ear. "You do look incredible in it."

I gave up on the armour and drew him down for a kiss; deep and hungry, and brief. "Maybe I'm not in love with this dress after all," I breathed.

"Thank the Divines," Hadvar groaned, closing his arms and lifting. I let out a small squeak of surprise as he carried me to the bed.

I had not thought it possible anything could eclipse our first time together, but I was wrong. I was new to loving a man, but my doting partner didn't push or rush me into anything, and kept up dialogue, so we could learn from each other. This time, I was not so overcome by unfamiliarity, and was able to focus more on Hadvar – on his enjoyment, our enjoyment. While I was largely inarticulate, my voice didn't entirely flee, and I felt more like a participant than a willing bystander. Moving together was so relaxed; so natural – so full of laughter and longing, and love.

After, as the contentment settled over us and we caught our breaths, he gathered me in his arms and we lay in silence as he trailed his hand up and down my back. I shivered at the sensation as my mind chorused a truth I had often thought; he is my home.

With a lazy smile, my fingers dusted over his chest, picking up the ring slung around his neck. "I like that you wear it," I murmured, inspecting my family's crest. "It...feels right," I added, dimly aware that I was barely making sense.

He pressed his lips to the top of my head. "Remind me tomorrow, okay love?" he breathed into my hair.

"Of what?" I glanced back, trying to meet his eyes but unwilling to lift my head too far from the crook of his arm.

I caught a sleepy, secretive smile. "Just – remind me?" he closed his eyes, shuffling and tightening his hold.

He was almost asleep. With a final squeeze to the Passero seal; it belonged with him; I released it and settled on his chest, sighing in satisfaction as I closed my eyes and let the blissful haze take hold.

–

When I woke early the next morning and realised that he was really here, naked in bed beside me, I couldn't suppress my giddy grin. The sun's first rays met the window pane, melting the frost and lighting up the lazily-drifting dust motes; a promise of another fine, cool day to come.

For a time I let myself bask in the warm contentment of Hadvar's arms. I glanced up to look at him; toyed with the idea of waking him up before the rest of the world, but as I took in his relaxed features I found that I didn't want to disturb his peace. Sigrid had told me that he threw himself into his work to deal with loss. I had no idea what that work entailed, exactly – but I wagered that he had found little rest since we had parted in Riverwood those weeks ago.

With a gentle nudge to my mind, I was reminded of the day. The Thalmor party. I frowned at myself. In a few hours, we would meet Delphine, and I would become Vittoria Vici. How did Delphine plan on intercepting the real Lady Vici? I could only guess and hope that it would work, for she had told me naught. Farkas had met with Malborn and –

Farkas. Where was he? I mean – he didn't need to sleep, but – I hadn't even asked him how the meeting had gone.

I had to find him – surely, he would be in the bar – but I couldn't bear the thought of Hadvar waking to find me gone. I would have to rouse him.

Fighting every instinct to remain where I was, I leant up and stared at him, wondering how to proceed? He frowned in his sleep, shuffling closer; his hand brushed over the rise of my hip and his fingers closed in a determined, possessive grip that sent a thrill through me. I realised that he had felt me move – the loss of warmth, if nothing else – but also that he was waking. Before he did, I pressed my lips to his, and threaded my fingers through his hair. "Hadvar," I whispered over his lips.

"Mm," he stirred; his eyelashes fluttered. I smiled softly as he blinked, focussed on me, and returned my smile. "I could get used to this," he murmured, tilting his head as he chased my lips.

The kiss was sweet, but I could not allow him to distract me. My smile turned into a giggle as I pressed my palm to his chest, to ease him back onto the pillow. "Stay here a moment?" I hushed. "I'm going to find Farkas," I flushed around my smile; "make sure he's not angry about kicking him out of our room."

"Oh," Hadvar's eyes widened. Despite my hand, he propped himself up on his elbows, swallowing thickly as he nodded toward the door. "I'll go with you. After all, it's my fault."

"No need," I urged, appreciatively taking in his dishevelled appearance. "Relax. I rather enjoy the idea of coming back to you in my bed, don't you?"

Hadvar's eyes flickered to mine as he huffed a laugh. "Not if you have Farkas with you," he murmured pointedly.

True – and it was very likely that I would. I hadn't thought that far ahead. With a jesting roll to my eyes, I turned, sitting on the edge of the bed. "Spoilsport," I muttered.

With a good-natured chuckle, he sat up, brushing my shoulder with his lips and guiding his hand across my back, down my waist, pushing away the furs and sheets. My ring – his, it was his now – bumped against my arm as he leaned closer, kissing his way along my neck; his mouth warm and his voice low. "Don't be like that..."

Now I knew he was trying to distract me, and oh, I wanted him to, but I couldn't shake my guilt over Farkas off. Suppressing a groan, I leaned away from his questing mouth, smiling apologetically. "Let's make sure Farkas is okay first," without realising, my hand rose to brush his cheek. "There's much to do today," I murmured, distracted by the brightness, the fondness I found in his gaze.

He leaned into my touch; closed his eyes; kissed my palm, then nodded with a weighty sigh.

Shifting to the dresser I had stored my clothes in, I hurriedly shrugged on underwear and a long, simple dress that I had taken to wearing around the inn, conscious of Hadvar's eyes on my movements all the while. It was...different, but not unpleasant, to think that he liked looking at me. After a moment, he rose silently, located his trousers, then collected the rest of his clothes and armour, strewn haphazardly around the bed.

I had to turn away so I wouldn't laugh as the memory of the previous night sent a giddy flush to my cheeks. I scrubbed my face with water from the basin on the dresser, then tugged my hair back into a quick plait.

"Where do you think he'll be?"

"I don't know," I reached out, eyes roaming appreciatively for the brief moment before he pulled a tunic over his head and tugged it down. Seeing my pout, he laughed and grasped my outstretched hand.

"Maybe he rented another room?" Hadvar asked hopefully, adjusting so his fingers laced between mine.

Smiling warmly at the feel – he fit – I nodded as we made for the door. "Or, maybe he never left the bar?"

He hadn't. It was early enough that Farkas and the publican, Corpulus, were the only occupants of the lower levels.

The barkeep looked up first and chuckled at the sight of us, shaking his head as he went back to polishing glasses.

Glancing hastily away – well, this fresh bit of gossip would be circulated throughout the city by lunchtime – I found Farkas sitting alone at a table in the main dining area. On the table before him was a cluster of mead bottles, but not as many as I thought there might have been after a whole night of drinking. I knew my shield-brother noticed our arrival – but he remained focussed on a parchment before him, scratching at it with a look of concentration on his face.

"Good morning," I greeted brightly.

Farkas cast me a knowing smirk. "Is, isn't it?"

"Buy you breakfast?" I pressed on, glancing over his shoulder to see what he was working on. It was odd to see him with a quill in his hand, but I wasn't about to question it.

"Sure," Farkas sat back with a sigh, nodding toward what was unmistakably a letter. "Figured it was time to start writing to Vilkas, since you're so busy," he explained.

"Oh," I was pleasantly surprised, and sent him an endearing smile. "He'll like that."

"Yeah," Farkas crossed his arms, glancing up again. "Got a lot to tell him. Like what's supposed to happen tonight. You told Hadvar yet?" he threw a nod his way.

He was not going to let it drop, was he? I couldn't be cross with Farkas – he had never been happy with this plan – and I closed my eyes to reign back a clipped response.

Hadvar squeezed my hand. "Tonight?" he laughed uncertainly. "What happens tonight?"

"Not really the time or the place," I murmured, casting Farkas a small, conceding nod. "I'll order breakfast. We can eat in our room."

"Sure," Farkas started to pack up the letter to his brother.

I left him to it and ordered our food.

Our hands drifted apart once Hadvar and I reached the room. He shifted to the window, peering outside with a distracted look on his face. He was tensing up – and I couldn't blame him, but I was hesitant to talk about the Thalmor infiltration without Farkas, because he could alert us if other ears drew too near.

"Sorry," I cursed, joining him by the window. I reached for his hand; brushed my fingers over his. "I...forgot all about it. Farkas doesn't like what's going on," I admitted.

Hadvar was staring at our joined hands, and huffed a small, humourless laugh. After a pause, he said quietly; "Must be something big, to worry Farkas."

"It's not that bad-," I insisted hastily.

The door clicked open; Hadvar and I looked up.

It was Farkas, writing materials in hand. "Yes, it is, and you know it," he grumbled.

"Farkas," I sighed plaintively. "How did the meeting go last night?"

Farkas stalked to where his gear was stowed. "Malborn's a right coward," he said, stuffing his writing materials into his bag. "He'll be no good to you in there. Wants you to send the weapons you'll need to him before two today," he turned back to us and shook his head, as though trying to dislodge water from his ear. "None of this feels right, Celeste. It's gonna end bad."

Hadvar's hand clutched mine. "In where?" he whispered, strained. With a gentle tug, he urged me to face him. "Please. Whatever it is you have to do, I can help."

As I had expected, I found worry in his eyes, but there was also something I hadn't – a deep-seated fury directed at those in my path.

With an apologetic wince, I told him. "I'm going to the Thalmor Embassy tonight to extract information about the rise of the dragons, and free my sister."

His eyes widened; he glanced me up and down fearfully. "You're...joking?" he uttered.

"Tell him the rest," Farkas droned in warning.

"Yes all right," I shot him a grumpy look, took a deep breath and faced Hadvar again. "I'm to be disguised as Vittoria Vici."

Hadvar ran an agitated hand through his hair. "This is why you're in Solitude? To go to Elenwen's reception – for your sister?"

"Something like that," I hissed quickly, glancing down; I couldn't bear to keep looking into those concerned, furious eyes that had shown me such love not an hour earlier. "And I know, Giselle is an enemy of the Legion but – they took her Hadvar, and for all her crimes she needs to be put on trial, not disappeared and tortured-"

Fingers were on my chin, lifting gently. I looked up, wary of what I would find - but he was back - his warmth and support – and an oddly-placed smug secrecy.

For a second, while I stared, I wondered what Farkas was picking up from him, because he was very suddenly far too calm.

"Why are you smiling?" I trembled. "The plan is crazy," I conceded in a shaky whisper.

"Beyond getting you into the Embassy, there is no plan," Farkas added gruffly.

"I'm smiling...because I can help you," Hadvar murmured around a smile that sent hope straight to my chest. The hand on my chin drifted and he clasped my cheek tenderly. "It seems we've been instructed to go to the same party, Lady Dragonborn," his warm smile turned into a grin. "Want to be my plus one?"

I openly gaped. "Your thing is the Thalmor thing?" I spluttered.

Farkas barked a laugh from across the room. "I already like his plan," he called out, striding toward the door. "Heads up," he added in a quieter tone.

I clasped my mouth shut as Corpulus brought in a tray brimming with baked apples, oats, milk, sausages, eggs and tea.

Hadvar wrapped himself around me as the publican worked on setting it all out on the table beside us. "We should go together," he murmured into my hair. "We can share that dance," he hushed. "Put the rumours to rest, just like you want."

"I...would love that," I lay my hands on his chest; lifted my eyes to him desperately, searching for words I could say in the publican's presence. Delphine's insane plan had just been flipped on its head and my mind was reeling. "But...won't you be working? I don't want to be left at a party on my own."

"For a time," he half-smiled. "The meeting won't take all night," his eyes softened. "There'll be plenty of time for...us."

"There you are, breakfast is served," the Imperial stood back, giving the table a satisfied nod before he glanced up to Hadvar and I.

"Great," Farkas took a seat and helped himself.

"Off to the party at the Embassy tonight, hey?" he asked lightly. "Finally makes sense. You've had me scratching my head since you arrived, Lady Dragonborn."

Somehow, I managed a few minutes of small talk with the publican and Hadvar to support this new scheme, and once the Imperial man left, I crumpled against Hadvar's chest and covered my face with my hands.

"You are forgetting why I am going in," I whispered urgently. "If I can't find Delphine's proof and get to Giselle, there's no point-"

"I haven't forgotten," Hadvar cut in with quiet confidence. When I faltered, then glanced up in inquiry, he took a step back and motioned toward the table. "Hungry?"

I hit his arm as my nerves finally bubbled out of me. "No, I'm not!" I laughed incredulously.

"All right, all right," Hadvar fended me off, his eyes dancing with merriment. "The Third Emissary has an office in the heart of the Embassy."

I frowned. "You know this because...?"

"Because," he lifted his brows pointedly as he tugged out a chair for me, "I was shown a map. Tullius doesn't like us going within ten miles of the Thalmor without a full briefing. Rulindil's office is on the ground level of Elenwen's solar and that's where we'll take our meeting."

"Okay," I accepted, sitting. A thread of unease wound tight around my throat; the General had asked him to walk into the heart of what was considered Thalmor territory in Skyrim. Why?

We're allies, I had to remind myself. "You think this...Rulindil will be forthcoming with information about the dragons?" I tried. "Or – I could talk him into freeing Giselle?" I added quickly.

"Not exactly," Hadvar shook his head as he pushed my chair in for me. "Probably best we don't mention either to him directly. But, I'm sure once we're there, we'll find a way."

I glanced over my shoulder at him, astonished. "Are you, Praefect Reidarrson, suggesting that we improvise the Thalmor Embassy?"

"In a sense," he half-smiled as he took a seat beside me and reached for a plate. "Maybe I've been hanging around you for too long."

My eyes flickered to Farkas, who was half-way through a pile of eggs. "And you're okay with this?"

"I'm better with this than Delphine's plan," Farkas grinned and jabbed his fork toward Hadvar. "He won't let you do anything stupid."

Both Farkas' good spirits, and Hadvar's confidence – when I had expected this conversation to end badly – gave me strength, and I found myself grinning back at Hadvar. "All right. It's a date."

–

After breakfast, Farkas got ready to meet Delphine to tell her of the change in plan. A part of me wished I could be there to see the look on her face when Farkas explained how the night was going to proceed, and that we no longer needed her phoney papers or Alteration spell.

But a much fiercer part of me wasn't willing to leave Hadvar's side, particularly now that I had an excuse to be with him, for whatever time our mad lives allowed. A whole day to ourselves in Solitude, and then the reception together. Albeit I felt an enormous amount of uncertainty over what I might find, or not find there. Hadvar's presence, and knowing he would be with me all the way, somehow made the enormous task surmountable.

We took our time leaving the sanctuary of our room in the Skeever, and eventually dressed more suitably; he in his armour and I in a dress fit for court. We wound our way to the Blue Palace; Jarl Elisef was expecting me, but I knew that news of Hadvar's arrival in Solitude would have reached her, so she would understand my lateness.

"Do you think you'll accept her offer?" Hadvar asked warmly, ignoring the curious glances of those milling in the marketplace as we bypassed the well.

"I'm not sure it would be right," I admitted with a frown, recalling how I had neglected my duty to Jarl Balgruuf when I had first been made his Thane, and how it had nearly cost me his favour. "What good is a Thane who is never there for her Jarl?"

Hadvar squeezed my arm supportively where it was linked with his. "She is as aware of your responsibilities as the next person," he reasoned quietly. "Maybe she's offering as a token of her support for you?"

With a flush of guilt, I realised - he was right. That was probably exactly why she had asked me to become her Thane.

"Then...oh," my eyes widened as I followed the theory through. "Acceptance will be seen a sign of my faith in her," I turned to face him, grinning in appreciation. He had determined a logical reason where I had only panicked about disappointing her. "You are amazing," I whispered, standing on my toes and winding my arms around his neck.

There were questions in his eyes, but he said nothing until I'd retreated from a soft, chaste kiss.

"I'm not complaining," he murmured on my mouth, "but – what?"

"That mind of yours," I explained, leaning back to meet his eyes; mine glowed with pride. "I am very much in love with it," I declared.

"That's a relief," he half-smiled, hands drifting down to settle on my waist. "I was worried you only wanted me for my body."

A quiet laugh burst from me, and he joined in, turning back to the road. "Come on. Can't keep the Jarl waiting," he sighed dramatically.

I pouted, accepting his outstretched hand, falling into step as our fingers laced together.

"I think I will accept her," I answered finally, as we bypassed the Bard's College. It was too early for students; classes wouldn't begin for over an hour yet. "Thane of Haafingar," I mused idly as my eyes drifted around the courtyard. I had often sat there before school, playing my lute or reading while I waited for my friends to arrive. An image of a younger me sitting on the bench seat by the wall formed in my mind – naïve and carefree, absorbed in my music while I strummed my beautiful lute.

Yes. Thane of Haafingar. Just like father.

I didn't realise I'd stopped, or that I was staring at the empty bench seat until I felt Hadvar's gentle tug on my hand.

"Celeste?" he asked softly.

Blinking the vision away, I turned and quickened my pace. "Sorry."

After a moment's silence, he bumped my shoulder with his. "We drink to our youth, to days come and gone," he sang in a quiet, amused tone.

I laughed, glancing down quickly to hide it. "Don't you dare," I giggled, twisting my hand to poke him in the ribs.

"What?" his armour protected him but he still arched sideways to evade me. "It works, doesn't it?" he asked cheekily.

I doubted whoever had first sung Age of Aggression had imagined it would be used like this. Eyeing him warily, I conceded. "That it does."

The sparkle to his eyes reminded me that he was withholding secrets from me. "By the way. What did you want me to remind you about today?" I asked, attempting loftiness despite my kindling curiosity.

"Don't worry, I haven't forgotten," he laughed. "C'mon," Hadvar encouraged, flexing his fingers in mine, to tighten his hold briefly. "Let's go make you Thane first."

His mood was as infectious as ever, and I found myself giddy with delight as we entered the Blue Palace. There was something extremely indulgent about spending time with Hadvar, and I didn't want to waste a moment of it.

Introductions were made. Jarl Elisef welcomed Hadvar warmly; she had heard much of his deeds and as my fiancee, he was welcome in her court at any time.

The Jarl's request was then gratefully, humbly accepted, and, quite without ceremony, I pledged my support to the Hold and Jarl Elisef, even if my Dragonborn duties would draw me away quite soon. The occasion was marred by a quiet gravity that hung in the air when she spoke the final words to make my appointment official, and added a quiet, regretful, as your father was before you.

Perhaps in part, I thought as we left the Blue Palace an hour later, both she and Jarl Balgruuf had made me their Thane as a token of their admiration for father; for the work he had done. Perhaps in part, it was their way of coming to terms with what had happened.

And perhaps in part, I realised with a jolt of bittersweet pride, I had accepted the titles for the same reason.

Before I could become lost in rumination, Hadvar pulled me out of it. "Come with me - please?" he asked quietly, tugging me toward the Bard's College.

There was a nervousness to his manner that caught my attention, and I frowned as I looked between him and the steps leading up to the courtyard. "Hadvar?"

"It'll only take a moment," he urged me to follow.

My frown persisted as I let Hadvar tow me up the stairs to my former school. Why would Hadvar bring me to the Bard's College? The courtyard was now occupied; two students sat on the bench seat I had seen myself on earlier, laughing over their breakfasts and quiet conversation. I didn't know them. They were younger, so perhaps they had only recently started.

He jogged the last few steps up to the door; hesitated, as though unsure about whether he should knock, then pushed his arm against the cast iron. It swung inward, slowly and with a groan of metal against metal.

I glanced around furtively as we stepped into the entryway. Welcoming clusters of carved chairs and low tables; tall vases, choked with lovingly-tended flowering shrubs that leant their sweet, spicy smells to the hall; shelves brimming with haphazardly-stacked books; framed paintings and tapestries, assembled artfully on the larger vertical spaces. The familiarity brought a longing ache to my chest, winding me.

"Why are we here?" I whispered.

Hadvar was peering about, and his gaze settled finally. I followed his gaze to a corner where a group of students were gathered, and my heart thudded as I recognised all of them; it was Aia, Jorn and Ataf. My friends. Who I had left without barely a word.

As though sensing our attention, Aia glanced up; did a double-take. Her eyes – made up with a little too much kohl, as usual – widened, and her hand shot out to grab Jorn's arm, which stopped him talking mid-sentence.

I made myself smile; my grip on Hadvar's hand tightened, and I opened my mouth to hail them. No sound emerged.

"Celeste!" Ataf was the first to speak, and fell over himself to join Hadvar and I in the entryway. Aia and Jorn remained where they were, silent and wary, but clearly curious.

Before I could assemble a greeting, the sight of his familiar, eager smile muted me. His welcoming eyes flickered to my hand – entwined in Hadvar's.

"Oh!" he pipped, a little too brightly, then grinned at Hadvar. "You must be the Legion soldier everyone's saying swept our girl off her feet."

He knew, of course he knew, and he was taking it in his stride as usual. I firmly told myself that this meant he was over whatever he had felt for me. Leaving had been the right thing to do.

Hadvar smiled around a surprised chuckle and extended his free hand with a comfort I envied, while I did all I could to keep from choking on my own breath. "I would argue it's the other way around. Hadvar," he introduced, with another brief glance around the room.

Ataf laughed; I could hear the nerves behind it. "She does tend to have that effect on people," he considered. As soon as the words bumbled out of his mouth, the bard backtracked. "Not that I mean - Gods-"

Gratefully, Hadvar sidestepped the comment casually. "I'm looking for Inge Six-Fingers; do you know where-?"

Glancing to him swiftly, my mind turned over the possible reasons for wanting to see her, and was able to settle on only one conclusion – but surely Hadvar wasn't actually buying me a new lute?

"Oh – of course - yes, sure sure," with relief, Ataf released Hadvar's hand and motioned obligingly toward the staircase that led to the upper levels. "She's probably in her classroom already. Want...?" he faltered, casting me an uncertain glance. "I can take you if –?"

"Thank you, but I remember the way," my voice came back, thick and fast, though I was barely able to form a sentence. I rolled my eyes at myself as I smiled gratefully to the man. "Thank you, Ataf," I added honestly.

"Any time," he flashed me a toothy grin.

It struck me straight in the heart, and the memories of how I had used him ill, though I hadn't been conscious of his feelings, brought a rush of guilt to my cheeks. Trying my best not to run up the stairs, I focussed on taking deep, calming breaths.

"Are you all right?" Hadvar whispered, ducking close once we reached the second story landing. "We don't – would you rather we leave?"

Pushing down my unease – because it was quite unwarranted – I shook my head resolutely and offered a small smile. "Sorry. I..." I took another deep breath, trying to find the truth, and it came upon me swiftly once I allowed it to surface. "I didn't realise how much I missed this place," I admitted honestly, glancing down the hallway toward Dean Six-Fingers classroom. "And I just...walked away from it."

"Hey," Hadvar consoled; eased around to face me, "you were trying to go to your family," he grasped my shoulders gently and ducked down to meet my eyes. "You can come back someday, right?"

Could I? I stared at him, painfully unsure. After everything that had changed – everything I had been through. Could I ever return? Did I want to come back; relive the days of the naïve child whose only thoughts were on perfecting her craft? My lower lip trembled when I tried to speak, and I blinked away fresh tears.

With a puff of air, he stood tall and drew me into his arms. "Okay. Let's go. We can do this another time."

"Do what, Hadvar?" I asked earnestly, burying my face in his armour as I clutched his arms. "Why are we here?"

"I hear voices in my hallway," a stern voice snapped. "Are you coming in, or just going to stand there all day mooning?"

We both startled to attention. I recognised the elderly woman observing us from the doorway immediately. She hadn't changed either; still wearing the same horrible chartreuse robe she had adopted like a badge of office. "Dean Six-Fingers," I greeted, hastily wiping my cheeks as my melancholy darted away at the sight of her. "Good morning."

"Passero," she nodded toward me briefly; her eyes shrewd as she glanced me up and down. "Have you been practising your arpeggios every day?"

"Yes ma'am," I replied dutifully with an internal wince.

She sighed laboriously, shaking her head. "Well, becoming Dragonborn hasn't made you a better liar," she murmured thoughtfully, "but I daresay your talent will survive." Her eyes snapped to Hadvar. "And you took your time in coming back, lad."

"Coming back?" I gaped. When had Hadvar been at the College before? Lad?

"I wasn't –" Hadvar frowned; his hold on my shoulders tightened. "I'm fighting a war-" he spluttered defensively.

"Yes, and we're all so very grateful," she interrupted with a dismissive wave of her hand. "Feisty one you've caught here, Passero," Dean Six-Fingers cackled as she motioned for us to follow her. "Come on."

Hadvar cast me a worried glance as the woman retreated. "Is she always like this?" he whispered. "I spoke to the Headmaster last time – I had no idea-" he stammered.

I nodded apologetically, though I had never seen the woman cackle. Perhaps her age was catching up to her.

"All right," Hadvar accepted uncertainly as he took my hand. "I'm – sorry about this," he murmured. "I didn't realise the College was...I wanted this to be special," he added regretfully.

I echoed his squeeze as my chest tightened. "Hey," I urged him to look at me. "I don't care where we are. Every second with you is special."

His beautiful eyes misted slightly. "I love the way your mind works," he whispered.

"Are you coming or not?" the Dean called out from within, crashing through the tender moment.

Without further delay, we stepped into my former lute teacher's classroom. "This is one of the rooms I used to take lessons in," I told him offhandedly, eager to make the air more comfortable. I pointed out artworks of note as he took in the high, vaulted ceiling and rows of instrument racks lining the walls. Lutes in varying states of wear were hung over the wooden hooks, and my hands itched to hold one of the finer models.

Dean Six-Fingers was at the front of the room, partially hidden from view, crouched behind her large, heavy, orderly desk.

The old woman groaned as she stood and placed a wrapped parcel on the desk between us. "Here you are. It's all yours – Viarmo told me you settled in advance," she said pointedly. "War must be profitable for some," she muttered.

My eyes widened and I glanced to Hadvar in worry. "You're are buying me a new lute?" I hissed. "Hadvar-"

"Take it," he urged with a nervous smile, nodding for emphasis. There was no hiding the anticipation in his eyes.

Dragging him forward with me – there was no way I was doing this alone – my eyes flickered over the lute-shaped package, and I shook my head in disbelief. It was wrapped in fine, burgundy-tinted fur and tied with thin, carefully-laced tan leather strips. Who had wrapped it? Surely not Dean Six-Fingers. She must have made one of the students do it – which meant – everybody downstairs knew that Hadvar had bought it for me. I couldn't refuse – couldn't risk embarrassing him. I would have to find some way to pay him back. "When did you arrange this?" I murmured idly, to fill the silence.

Dean Six-Fingers arched an eyebrow at me. "If you don't take it, I will sell it on," she warned with a quick glance in Hadvar's direction.

With a gentle laugh, Hadvar ignored her and detangled my hand from his. "Take it," he insisted. "It's yours."

I cradled the familiar shape in part fear, part wonder, and nodded my thanks to Dean Six-Fingers as I took a step back. Suddenly, I wanted to be anywhere but here – I couldn't unwrap it with an audience. "Thank you," I made myself say. "I'll – keep you no longer. I – we can open it..." I glanced to Hadvar and took a shuddering breath. "In private."

On the lower level, the bell sounded, signalling the commencement of morning classes. With a few hasty farewells to my former teacher, Hadvar and I were shooed out of her classroom as students began to trickle in.

Clutching the lute tightly to my chest, I left the college in a daze. I made myself smile and wave at the faces I recognised as we passed them on their way to class, but my thoughts were consumed, sluggish with thick wonder.

We stepped outside. Relief filled me as the cool, salty morning air suffused me and I closed my eyes, basking in it for a moment.

Hadvar placed a hand on my back. I opened my eyes, feeling a little calmer as he ducked down to check my expression. "Are you...?" he murmured uncertainly, then stood with frustration plain on his features. "I shouldn't have made you come here," he cursed. "I wasn't thinking. Of course it's hard for you."

"No," I insisted, facing him properly; the lute between us. "No, I love it. You are a man of your word," I blinked back the overwhelmed tears that I hadn't realised had gathered. "But I will not have Sigrid and Dorthe go without so you can pay for a lute. How much did it cost?" I asked.

Hadvar's expression relaxed as he put his hands on his hips and looked toward the wall between us and the Sea of Ghosts with a flush. "Will you look at it first?" he asked quietly.

"Okay," I puffed, searching the yard briefly. I made for the circular amphitheatre to the side of the college. It was far enough from the road and shielded by curved walls that it would be private, now classes had begun.

Hadvar trailed after me; sat beside me on one of the stone steps that served as seats for performances, placing an arm around me as I stared at the parcel on my lap.

I worked at the leather ties. "When did you arrange this?" I asked again, needing to fill the heavy silence with something.

Hadvar's knee brushed mine as he turned in, and the neck of the wrapped lute rested on his leg. "Hmm," he considered, though there was amusement behind it. "Let me think..."

I smiled at his tone, appreciating his good humour; his efforts to keep us buoyant. The leather strips fell away. I brushed back the fur, revealing the instrument.

My eyes widened and my hand flew to my mouth to muffle a squeak of shock.

"Perhaps...the day after we met?" he guessed around a grin.

"Hadvar!" I gasped; my shaking hand fell to the body, brushing the fine wood grain and – silver, fusing what had once been fractures, to create a smooth polished finish. "You – how did you-?" I shuddered. "It was lost – Helgen – Alduin," I blubbed, glancing over my beloved lute through a blur of tears; the lute my father had given me when I had been accepted into the College. It was stained with blood that would never come out, and marked by lines of shiny silver along both the body and the neck, bright against the dark wood grain like flashes of lightning. It was a lute with a story as strange and terrible and wonderful as my own, and it was more beautiful and precious to me than ever for its scars.

"I told you, it was yours," he said reasonably, humbly, shuffling closer; adjusted his arm to take a tighter hold. "Please, don't cry," he laughed thickly as he squeezed and kissed the top of my head. "You will make me cry."

I laughed through a sob, tearing my eyes from the lute to gaze at him. "You went back to Helgen?" I acknowledged tearfully, my voice shuddering with emotion.

He smiled at the lute for himself, brushing his fingers over the strings in thought. "I went back to look for survivors, after we said good bye," he admitted quietly.

My heart swelled with so much love and pride for this wonderful man that I thought it might burst – but I remained quiet and contained myself – because it was clear that he wasn't done.

"Didn't find anyone," he looked up to the wall on the other side of the amphitheatre, clearing his throat. "But, found the cart you'd been..." he drifted off again. "I remembered how distressed you were about leaving your lute behind, and thought," he shrugged, changing his mind. "I wanted to see you again," he admitted with a fond, faraway look and a distant smile. "Maybe if I could have it repaired, I could bring it to you," he chuckled helplessly. "Uncle Alvor started it," he motioned toward the silver lines. "But," he faltered. "I brought it to Solitude to be finished, a few weeks ago. Didn't know who else might...take care of it."

I placed my lute carefully on the seat behind us, nestled in its fur wrapping – then faced Hadvar, placed my hands on his cheeks; encouraged him to look at me. He let me turn him; his gaze flickered over me; have I done right, his eyes asked, as though this moment was the culmination of all the days that had passed since we met. A smile was there, but small, and in his eyes I found devotion and hope, such beautiful hope. My whole body ached with longing for him. If I was able to spend every moment of the rest of my life showing him how much I loved him – it would not be enough.

I leaned up; pressed a soft, lingering kiss to his lips. "I love you," I whispered over them, barely retreating. Kissed him again; deepened it when his encircling hand tightened and his other brushed my hair back, threading fingers through the curly strands.

He sighed into the kiss and I felt his tension slowly ease. This beautiful gesture had been difficult for us both – as were many of the decisions we had to make each day. But it was worth it. He was worth it. With a small tug to his bottom lip that earned me a quiet groan, we parted. "Can I play it for you?" I asked, breathless as I pressed my lips to the corner of his mouth. "Please?" I begged.

I felt the tilt to his mouth under mine. "Play it for you," he mumbled, mouth finding mine again for another brief, wistful kiss. "You don't have to-"

"I want to," I insisted. I wanted him to know how much he meant to me; continually inspired me, but couldn't couple together the right words. Music would succeed where my words continued to fail.

His eyes were clouded with yearning; the product of our lazy, passionate kisses, but he nodded, easing back. "I love hearing you sing," he owned quietly, still recovering his breaths; his chest rose and fell. "You need never ask."

With a small, excited smile, I retrieved my lute. My lute. For a beat, I searched it in wonder, again, shaking myself out of my stupor as I positioned it in my lap and tested the strings.

It was in tune – my beautiful instrument was all ready for me to play. Dean Six-Fingers would have ensured it, and the strings – high-quality steel – would take a bit of playing to bend out of tune, even new.

My eyes fluttered closed as my fingers drifted over the neck, the strings; bumped over the frets. It felt...so impossibly right to hold it again.

"Or, maybe I should leave you two alone," Hadvar chuckled.

Laughing, I opened my eyes. "You're quite cheeky, for a muse," my amusement was unshakable as I positioned my hand and decided on a song. Something to thank him; a separation from the past, and a distraction from the task ahead. The anticipation of playing it thrummed through me.

"Muse?" Hadvar lifted his brows with a quiet laugh. "Isn't a bard always frustrated with her muse?"

"Only when they leave," I gave him a knowing glance, trying to keep the air playful. "Now, let me sing for you. It's been...too long," I glanced over the neck; positioned to F, and plucked at the strings. Oh – the sound was so much more resonant – I'd forgotten what proper steel strings sounded like.

"O my sweet love, he waits for me, Through storm and shine, cross land or sea," I sang quietly, meeting Hadvar's eyes. The open, enraptured look he was giving me made me shiver; I had to watch my hands to continue because by the Gods his mouth was distracting. "I run to him and together we, Sway as we kiss; Sway as we kiss..."

---

A/n: I wanted to go to the Thalmor party this chapter, too, but Celeste and Hadvar wouldn't let me.
I'm so sorry for the delays - work is constantly on my back but I think about this story often and where it's going next. I hope I haven't lost too many people to the wait. Thanks for your patience and support, if you've made it this far.