Chapter 63: The Expected Response

"This is ridiculous."

The sun had set, making way for a clear, gusty evening. Clusters of tiny lanterns winked and wobbled along the streets turning the roads into glowing arteries, gradually bringing Dawnstar back to life. The trepidatious turned bustling and people drifted outside, but they were slower, cautious almost, and seemed more inclined to talk to one another with their expressions ranging from fear to amazement.

"It's really not," Farkas replied in a gentle tone full of good humour.

"It is quite ridiculous," I insisted, eyes firmly on the town; the window misted again, and I rubbed a viewport clear with my sleeve. A pair of women talked on the side of the road, using the forge opposite the longhouse as a windbreak and source of warmth, one with a basket of linens and the other with a tired-looking toddler on her hip. Linen-lady covered her mouth in shock while toddler-lady pointed to the roof, waving at the damage like so many before her. I caught the shape of Dragonborn pass her lips, and their widened eyes glanced to my window. Her small daughter stretched an arm up to mirror her mother's motions, smiling sleepily at the sky as she wiggled her fingers.

"You fixed their dragon problem," from his tone, I guessed Farkas was rolling his eyes. "People have been made Thane for less. A lot less."

I knew the women couldn't see me, but I stepped back and turned to my shield brother. Had I not intervened, the little girl could have lost her life, or her mother, silenced by a deadly puff of ice and snow. Any of the people on the street below could have died.

I was pleased they were alive. But the truth was – in the heat of the moment, I hadn't done it for them. Their attention, their awe, and the reward from Jarl Merilis made me incredibly uneasy and served as a reminder that I was saviour of Skyrim's dragons first, its people second.

"I am now Thane of four Holds – half to places and people I know nothing about and Jarls I can't possibly stay with!" I exasperated, the tone close enough to a whine that I snapped my mouth shut when I heard my own childishness. "Sorry," I flushed, taking the armchair next to his and staring at the flames dancing lazily in the fireplace. "It's just…why does everyone want a piece of me?" I grumbled.

"They don't want a piece of you," Farkas chuckled, stretching his neck and shoulders against the high back of his chair.

I shot him an arched look. This time tomorrow I would be in audience with the Emperor and future Emperor of Tamriel, trying to convince them they didn't need a piece of me.

"Well," he half-shrugged; I didn't need to say it. "It's the Jarls way of thanking you, showing their support for what you do," he assured, offering a sideways grin. "Heroic-types don't often come to places like Hjaalmarch or the Pale. Of course they're gonna pounce."

"You've been everywhere," I grumbled, glancing back to the fire. "And you're...a million times more heroic than me," I shot him a narrowed look. "Why aren't you Thane of anywhere?" I accused.

Farkas laughed to himself, then offered another shrug. "Not the right type of heroic for Jarls, I guess," he depreciated.

I pursed my lips and another uncomfortable itch wormed down my neck. If anybody deserved to be made Thane it was him, but it was foolish of me to question why he hadn't been. Had Farkas used a thu'um to release Viinturuth, he would have been thanked for his services, rewarded with money or supplies, and probably sent on his merry way. The most he might have attained would have been the honour of being housecarl to some other Thane.

The Cyrodiilian high aristocracy worked to give rich people more power from one generation to the next, and Skyrim, who had once rewarded deeds, not bloodlines, had seamlessly slipped into the same habit. A woman as honourable and talented as Lydia was not permitted to purchase property in Whiterun without my name attached to the deed. Men like Farkas and Vilkas would never be considered Thane material because they didn't have the right surname.

That the loathsome Lord Erikur could be worthy of Thane to Jarl Elisif while the brave, loyal Farkas was overlooked proved how broken the system was. Thanes brought money and influence and popularity into a Hold and in truth the Jarls didn't care how they came about that.

It was why the army attracted so many. Your deeds were measured for what they were, not where you came from, and you could rise up the ranks and accumulate wealth through promotion if you were smart and worked hard and put your life on the line for your people. Upon retirement, Generals were often given lands and titles for their services, and occasionally married into the aristocracy. Vittoria Vici had even suggested I wait until Hadvar had achieved General before agreeing to wed him, so it wouldn't be quite so far a fall from graceful society for me, because status and the accumulation of wealth was all that mattered to those people.

For a heartbeat, I wondered if this was, in part, why Stormcloak was trying to throw the Empire out of Skyrim.

There was a bitter taste in my mouth, and I grimaced. I had been born into privilege, into a family firmly nestled in the aristocracy for generations. Father had served High King Torygg with valour and honesty, and had never treated his housecarls as anything but equals – Lydia's recollections of him were testament to that. Privilege itself did not make us bad people, but it made us part of the problem if we let ourselves simply exist within and benefit from the system. I was not a Jarl with the power to give titles to people who deserved to be recognised, but I had forged strong alliances that meant maybe, surely, I could say something, without turning the other Thanes against me. Whether I was a trophy-Thane or not to the Jarls, surely I was in a position to be heard.

Of course, status hadn't been the main consideration to the stoic Jarl of Dawnstar – but Merilis in particular needed to adhere to tradition, given where she had come from.

I knew only the basics of her origin, but it was enough to understand the position she was in was a tenuous one. Once a General in the Imperial army, she had been allied with Skald Felgeif days before he'd been arrested for treason under High King Torygg's reign, leaving the Empire in the seat of power within the region. While Felgeif remained alive in prison she could not produce an heir with him to secure the future of the Hold, and it was likely the Legion would appoint someone else to take the title once the war was won, and she would gracefully step down to the role of advisor.

Nobody pretended it had been a match made for anything but convenience by a desperate Jarl hoping to avoid conviction with a last-minute Imperial alliance - and, as a loyal soldier, the General Merilis had clearly just accepted the title for what it was, and what it would bring; peace to the Pale.

In the wake of Viinturuth's release, Farkas and I attempted to return to my rooms but the guards (or gossips) had been faster. Jarl Merilis had called for me the moment I had set foot in the main hall.

She told me Viinturuth had been harassing Dawnstar for some time, freezing indiscriminately and stealing hauls and flying off, only to swoop down a week or so later to repeat the process. It was why the warning system was in place, why the mines were kept chock-full of rations and water stores for sheltering citizens, and why there were so many Imperial soldiers in the city. They had to be ready for her attack at any moment.

And I'd removed the threat with three words.

According to her, it was reason enough to dub me Thane of the Pale. With the title came the deed to a large plot of land on the southern borders and a quiet housecarl name Gregor, who I'd asked to remain at the White Hall to assist the guards cleaning up the damage to the roof.

I hadn't known what to do with the land – but I did now. I would gift it to Farkas, even if I couldn't give him the title that went with it. I could give the land and house in Hjaalmarch to Vilkas, though perhaps he would sell it if matters were ever made simple between him and Lydia. And Lydia would of course take full ownership of Breezehome, as we had always planned.

Technically I would still be playing within the web of rules imposed by the aristocracy, for I was not rejecting the my title, merely shuffling my assets. But if my new-found family were given a chance to manage substantial equity in their own right, perhaps the Jarls would take better notice of their deeds.

It was a half-baked plan I wasn't entirely happy with, for it still fell back on the acquisition of wealth to be considered worthy, but it would do until I thought of a better way to instigate true change, and it would acknowledge my shield-siblings' efforts in the name of Skyrim. Perhaps if there were enough good, honest people to prop up the Jarls and make them accountable, it would change naturally.

"Relax," Farkas encouraged, misinterpreting my silence. "The more official-types you have wanting you to stay in Skyrim, the easier it'll be to convince that Alexis bloke why you can't go to Cyrodiil with him."

"Mm," I nodded idly, gaze fixed on the flickering flames and inwardly smirking at the future Emperor of Tamriel being dubbed 'that Alexis bloke'. "I need to stay to release the dragons, now I know how to."

It had come with heartache, but learning the truth behind my ancestor's dovah name had sealed my fate. Even if I had been considering it, which I hadn't – I could not go to Cyrodiil and command the armies to do my duty for me as the Emperor wanted. Dragonborn was the only title I was not at liberty to shuffle to anyone else.

"What did you do?" Farkas asked quietly.

I faltered, staring at my hands, trying to consolidate the experience. "I figured out how to turn some dragon words into a Shout," I admitted softly.

"Whoa," Farkas huffed.

"It's not-," I looked up hastily, shaking my head in desperation. "They're just words and – I used techniques I learnt at the college to centre my will and focus. Project my voice, lead my audience – that sort of thing," I babbled. "There was no – Divine moment," I winced. "I could teach it to anybody who would learn the thu'um."

"Could you teach me?"

"If you want me to?"

"But maybe you couldn't?" Farkas held out a hand, palm up toward me. "And if you could, how long would it take me to learn? The Greybeards spend their whole lives on that mountain, figuring out the meaning of Shouts. You figured it out in seconds."

"But I didn't," I insisted, hands clenching. I shifted them to the arm rests and gripped that to keep from digging my nails into my palms. "I've been trying to figure out a way to free them for ages."

Farkas was motionless in the corner of my eye. "You freed her soul?"

I thought it had been obvious, and turned to him with a frown. "Yes."

"I thought you absorbed them?"

"Not this time," I understood. Farkas had never faced a dragon with me; he'd never seen what usually happened after. Vilkas had, long ago, but never Farkas.

"So...it's like what you do for us, huh?" he rumbled.

"Not really. I can't sing the wolf out of you."

"But that's kinda exactly what you do," he pressed, sitting forward to lean his elbows on his knees. "You sing a song, any song, and he backs down."

"It's not any - I choose my songs carefully -" I scoffed. "But, that's not the point. I sing, but the wolf doesn't leave," I posed swiftly, unable to meet his eye. "We have established your wolves are influenced by my...inner dragon, or whatever it is that makes it possible for me to do this," I conceded. "Perhaps the two are more deeply connected than we thought, but," I shrugged, as though the gesture meant anything.

In my peripheral, Farkas sat up a little taller. "What was the Shout to free her soul?"

Taking a slow breath, I steeled myself; "Daanteyvo."

"Eh?"

"Daan Tey Vo," I split the word. "It literally means 'Fate, Story, Undoing', and as a thu'um it means something more, like, 'I dismantle the destiny made for and taken from you'. And, yes," I met his curious gaze, finally. "The Shout to reverse Alduin's thrall happens to be the name given to my ancestor by Paarthurnax."

Farkas huffed; his silvery eyes widened. "That's a pretty big coincidence."

"There's nothing coincidental about it," I assured. "He knew the power of those words. Dante wrote of how Paarthurnax thought he would be the one to fulfil some great destiny. Paarthurnax clearly assumed Dante would need to face Alduin some day and do his Dragonborn duty. By giving him that name, he gave him the tool he would need to stop Alduin from controlling his kin."

I could almost hear the cogs turning in Farkas' mind. "But...why didn't Paarthurnax turn it into a Shout then? Teach it to him, the other Greybeards - to you on the mountain, like he taught you how to breathe fire? Why'd you have to learn how to Shout it on your own?"

"I don't know," I shrugged helplessly. "Maybe it's a Shout that has to be realised, not taught? Maybe Paarthurnax doesn't have the right force of nature behind him? Maybe it can't be Shouted by dragons, only spoken?"

"There's a difference?"

I nodded, feeling more certain being able to explain something I did, at least in part, understand. "It's like the difference between talking and singing. Viinturuth spoke to me, but Shouted an ice spell," I explained. "Speaking only requires minor focus. Singing involves all that knowledge speaking needs, plus aspects of timing, melody, emotional projection. You sort of…throw your heart into it, if you're doing it properly. For a thu'um, the Greybeards said there's an element of the Shouter's life-force and its intertwined with the forces of nature and Kyne," I chewed thoughtfully over what I had done. "So I focussed on my mind, body and the words, as though I was singing instead of speaking."

"And it came as easily to you as singing does. You turned words into a Shout straight away," Farkas pointed out again. "Those Greybeards focus on the meaning of words for ages before they can do that."

I frowned at the fire, ticking over the idea, and my mind drifted. "Why didn't Paarthurnax turn Dante's name into a Shout and teach it to the others?"

"Maybe he didn't know how to?" Farkas offered. "Like you said, you need the right force of nature behind you to Shout certain words. Maybe they don't have access to that force?"

I crossed my brows at him suspiciously. "What do you mean?"

Farkas shook his head. "I dunno, sister. There's something...Septim-y about all this. Maybe the force of nature you need to do it is blood. Family. Maybe those words could only be Shouted by one of you guys, but Dante never had any need to try?"

I closed my eyes – the cursed connection and its influence was the last thing I wanted to try unpack. "I will ask Paarthurnax when I'm next at High Hrothgar," I allowed quietly.

But I couldn't return to High Hrothgar without an Elder Scroll. And I couldn't continue my search for one of those until I'd dealt with the Emperor's request.

I just needed to get through the next day, and I could return to my true purpose.

–

The night grew frosty and despite the heating in the upper levels, I bundled myself up in layers of pink and tan wool for my dinner with the Jarl on the ground floor. My resolve to gift the material aspects of my new titles to those who deserved it kindled a flame deep within me, bright and certain. I had something to talk to her about, and conversation was a useful distraction from everything that awaited me in Solitude.

"Stormcloak's situation certainly worsens with his estranged son as the Jarl of Winterhold," Merilis commented, cutting into a thick slab of horker meat. "But he will not let Windhelm be taken so easily, even surrounded, as he now finds himself," she lifted and studied the little square of brown and red on her fork, and frowned at it.

"Windhelm is a fortress," I agreed, "but it is not entirely impenetrable with the right approach."

The Jarl's light grey eyes flickered to me, her meat dripping and unsampled. "You have experience with Windhelm, Thane Passero?"

She sounded genuinely curious, so I nodded and told her the basics of my part in Jarl Balgruuf's request to Stormcloak.

"Ah. Yes," she glanced back to her fork, drifting off. "Yes, I did hear about that, now you remind me. It was a brave thing you did, to appear before his court alone, as your sister."

"It was the only way I could think of getting through the castle doors, if I'm honest, my Jarl."

"Yes," Jarl Merilis smiled, her eyes thoughtful. "Ever the bard, even in war. Yet despite the risk, you did it for your Jarl. And tonight we sit beside each other as Jarl and Thane, though you have already done your duty to my region."

"I don't believe a Thane's duty has an end point," I retrieved my goblet, brimming with barely-touched mead; I wanted my wits about me, but it was chilly in the main hall.

"Well," the Jarl picked up her own goblet and raised it toward me. "You may consider the White Hall your home whenever you find yourself in Dawnstar, my Thane. Your parents would be proud of all you have achieved."

I accepted the praise, as unorthodox as it was for a Jarl to call her Thane 'my Thane'; those were the words of an underling. I lifted my drink in return before taking a small sip.

"They are achievements I would never have accomplished without the support of others. My shield-brother, for example," I motioned toward Farkas, who I had insisted sit on my right and not further down the table with the higher-ranked soldiers and housecarls.

Farkas just about choked on the piece of meat he was eating; his eyes widened as he glanced to me.

"Most recently, he rescued me from certain death, then led the Legion to victory. Without him, I'd be lost and probably dead somewhere under the College of Winterhold, and the Legion might not have won the day," I lifted my goblet to him; a sign of my respect, and widened my eyes pointedly so he might stop staring and close his mouth.

Jarl Merilis followed suit. "The Companions are some of the most noble warriors Skyrim has on their side; you do our people proud, Farkas - or should I say, Auxiliary? The army is lucky to borrow you."

"Er, thanks. Farkas is fine."

"It is gratifying to hear my Jarl speak of him in such high esteem," I turned back to my plate, adopting a more lofty tone so those closest to us would hear. "And if it pleases you," I tested, "As a token of my gratitude to my brother, I would have Farkas' name, and not my own, writ upon the Heljarchen deed," I met her eye and held it.

She remained stoic, but I caught her eyebrow lift - because I was looking for it. "How…gracious of you, Thane Passero."

I inclined my head; flushing, I wondered if I had offended her. "As Dragonborn, it is my duty to continue travelling in my efforts to stop Alduin's design," I reminded quietly. "I would not have the land sit idle."

"Ah, I understand. You would have your shield-brother act as proxy?"

"Wait, what-?" Farkas hissed.

"He would fulfil that duty to you wonderfully, were he at liberty to remain," I corrected hastily, fixing Merilis with a gentle smile. "But I do not mean for him to merely act in my stead. I mean to reward his importance to me, as you have honoured mine today. I wish the land to be his."

Jarl Merilis considered, her expression flat; now, she gave nothing away. "Of course," she murmured. "The Heljarchen estate is yours, to do with as you wish."

A spear of regret; she thought I didn't want it. "Thank you, my Jarl. Both my brother and I will bring honour to the Pale, I promise you."

Jarl Merilis' stiff smile softened a little, and her eyes drifted to Farkas. "You don't have to convince me," she said quietly. "But merely, the society we keep. It shall be done at once," she decided with a short nod toward her meal.

Merilis attracted the attention of some official to draw up the documents, and Farkas leaned closer, elbowing me in the ribs.

"Ow!" I hissed, turning on him. "What was that for?!"

"What're you doing?" he hissed back. "I can't stay in the Pale!"

"I just said I don't expect you to!"

Farkas sat back, dumbfounded. "Is this because I laughed at you before?" he glanced toward the Jarl. "Okay, I'm sorry. It is a bit ridiculous."

I gave him a small, casual smile and placed my hand on his arm, for the benefit of those around the table observing us. "I'm not playing games with you. I meant what I said," I told him quietly. "I wouldn't have accomplished anything without you. You deserve that land more than I do. It is yours."

Farkas turned his eyes to his meal and regarded a spot far beyond his slab of horker. "What am I going to do with land?"

"I know; tricky, isn't it?"

A steward-ish type appeared by Farkas' elbow with a notepad and quill and started asking him questions for the paperwork, so I sat back and left him to it, wondering if my similar requests to Jarls Ravencrone and Balgruuf would pan out so easily.

—

When naught but drinks remained to be taken, there was noise at the front door and a group of soldiers were admitted. Fresh snow dusted their shoulders and for a time, there was a pause in conversation as those still at the dining table watched on in interest. The group stowed their weapons and removed their helmets and shook out their hair, rubbing their hands together and commenting brightly to the servants about how cold it had grown.

Imperial soldiers had been coming and going all night, but this group was large and attracted enough interest from those around us to tell me they were not locals.

It had to be my escort. I craned my neck, searching for Hadvar, but the entry was too far away and full and gloomy to make out anything but a sea of uniforms and chatter. With a bob to the Jarl, I excused myself and hastened toward the group.

Farkas was on my heels - and then, to my surprise, so was Gregor. Our boots thrummed against the flagstones but the noise was lost to the rattle and clutter of newly-arrived Legion armour.

"Is he here?" I whispered, knowing my shield-brother would hear, and understand.

"He's here," he assured. After a beat Farkas added, "He's a bit nervous."

I forced a smile and commanded my heart stop racing - then I spotted him, and my breath caught. He was on the fringe of the group, talking to Lydia, one hand in his hair, shaking out the snow from the ends of his coppery strands. Neither he nor Lydia had seen me yet.

"Lady Dragonborn?" one of the officers at the front hailed. "Tribune Jala Greenband at your service. The General apologises for our delay, ma'am."

I made myself focus on the tall woman. She had canny eyes and dark hair tugged back into a messy braid, damp from the melting snow. I smiled at her, aware that Hadvar's attention was suddenly entirely upon me from his corner of the entry.

"There is nothing to be sorry for," I assured the Tribune swiftly, ignoring the pull to turn to him. "You are fighting a war. I would have it take priority over me."

"The Empire would respectfully disagree with you, ma'am," Greenband replied dutifully.

I suppressed a sigh. "Okay, then we must agree to disagree. Do we leave for Solitude at once, or might we wait until the snow has stopped falling?"

The corner of Jala's mouth twitched. "We're at your command, Lady Dragonborn."

"Good," I nodded; I had hoped as much. "Legate Tituleius is that way," I motioned toward the dining table. "He will arrange your accommodations and supper. We leave tomorrow, after breakfast."

"Very good, ma'am."

"Until morning, Tribune," I dismissed, and glanced toward my friends.

Lydia looked frustrated, her lips pursed, and Hadvar did look nervous but offered me a sad, wistful smile that speared me; it was the face he usually reserved for goodbye, not hello.

Once the escort - there must have been at least twenty of them - moved into the main hall, I hastened to Hadvar and Lydia. "I don't know what he told you," I began quietly as I extended my hands, "but I promise you, it's going to be okay."

Hadvar lowered his eyes as he nodded shallowly. He placed his hands in mine, but said nothing.

"I am glad you're both here," I flickered Lydia a look.

"Wouldn't miss it, little one," she murmured. "Who's this?" she nodded beyond me.

"Oh," I flickered a glance over my shoulder to confirm. "This is Gregor, my housecarl."

"Your housecarl," Lydia drawled.

"My Dawnstar housecarl," I corrected hastily.

"Your Dawnstar housecarl," Lydia repeated, her tone flat.

"It is an honour to meet friends of the Dragonborn," Gregor took a step forward and held out a meaty hand.

Lydia's expression was at once false-cheerful, and she gripped his hand in greeting. "And you, Gregor. I'm Lydia, her Whiterun housecarl, and this is Hadvar, Celeste's fiancee. I'm sure she's told you all about us."

I wanted to kick her. "Gregor," I spoke to him but fixed Lydia with a too-sweet smile, "would you please follow Tribune Greenband and ensure my Legion escort have all they need to be comfortable?"

"Yes, my Thane," extracting his hand from Lydia's grip, he dipped a bow and departed with a worried, sideways glance at my shield-sister.

A still, thick silence fell between my friends, but once Gregor was out of earshot, I turned on my housecarl. "What was that?"

"I don't like him," Lydia's eyes were staring daggers at his back.

"Why not?" I exasperated.

"You just met him," Farkas smirked. "Give the man a chance. He's nice."

"Oh, he's nice, is he?" Lydia's eyes widened. "Unless there's something else you've not been telling us, you've only known him for a couple of hours yourself."

The last was aimed at me, and not a good sign. I closed my eyes and huffed a bleak laugh, giving Hadvar's hands an encouraging squeeze; he had remained silent and watchful while the rest of us bickered. "Okay, enough."

"Is that an order, my Thane?"

"It is a request," I met her expression, stoic. "Time to explain why you're here. Farkas, can you take Lydia to the Windpeak and…tell her what's going on?"

"What?" he whined. "I'm not the bard here-"

"I want facts, not a story, just tell us-" Lydia crossed her brows.

I interrupted both protests; "I would have given her the letter, but somebody-"

"Okay, okay."

"Thank you," I turned back to Hadvar and fixed him with a smile I tried to convey hope with. "You're coming with me," I tugged him toward the staircase.

"But - are you…?" he faltered, glancing to Lydia uncertainly.

The woman's eyes narrowed. "Screw what he said, you go with her," she all but ordered.

I frowned but he merely nodded with a nervous glance toward the bustling dining hall.

"We'll get a room at the inn," Lydia announced, her vexation ebbed as she placed a hand on my shoulder. "Do not leave for Solitude without us."

"I wouldn't dare."

She nodded, her eyes determined but far from satisfied, then Farkas and Lydia left, murmuring to one another.

Hand in hand, Hadvar and I watched the door close after them, and the air grew quiet and tense again.

Lydia's frustration had been one thing, but Hadvar's sad silence would be my undoing if he didn't break it soon. After a pause, I moved and urged him to follow, my heart clamouring.

The moment we were alone in the adjoining room, before we even reached the staircase, I was done with waiting, and whirled around to face him.

"What did the General say to you?" I implored in a hush, lifting my free, shaking hand to brush his cheek, painfully uncertain if the contact was wanted. His skin was cool from the snow, and a day's-old stubble prickled my fingertips. He glanced down again, letting out a shuddering breath.

"I don't know," Hadvar confessed, eyes closing tight as he leaned into my touch. "Something about…your position in Tamriel extending beyond the bounds of a singular duty. He wanted me to…remember that."

I cursed. "What does that mean?"

"I'm trying really hard not to think on it without more information, so…" he met my eyes, his grey depths full of anguish, "you tell me?" he whispered.

Regretting I had stopped us at all, for we could have been in my room by now, I let out a growl of frustration and resumed leading him to the stairs. "What were the orders Lydia told you to screw?"

"To honour and serve the best interests of the Empire."

I glanced back to him, eyes widened. "Seriously?"

He offered a short, grave nod. "Those words."

Turning back to our path with a shudder, I resumed. "He has been…almost deliberately ambiguous," I muttered, mounting the landing and turning down the hall to the guest quarters. All of the wall sconces were lit, and the air felt dense and too warm against my flushed cheeks.

The moment we were in my room, I locked the door, then looked up to the man I loved. I took in his wounded eyes and knit brows. A deep, dark fierceness, searing me for its potency, hated the General for telling him so much, yet not nearly enough. My fiancee was an intelligent man; he'd had hours to wonder over what he had and hadn't been told, and had clearly knit something together. Something that made him look as though he would have to say goodbye.

I wanted to close the space between us and hold him, to kiss him and never stop kissing him, but he spoke first in a quiet, tentative voice.

"I, um," he glanced down, tugging something out of the neck of his tunic. He stared at it and took a deep, shuddering breath. "I want you to know…"

My eyes widened as I realised what he was holding - the ring - and hurried forward. "Put that away," I pleaded.

He glanced up, his mouth open; his eyes despairing and confused.

Panic assailed me and I spoke before he could. "Please," I closed my hands around his; the ring held firm between us. "This is yours now - as I am yours. Let me explain why I wrote what I did to the General."

Hadvar squeezed his eyes closed and tucked my family's ring back under his tunic. "All right."

"Come. You are cold, and have had a long, treacherous walk," I searched the room for a place to start, and guided him to the chair by the fireplace; the one Farkas had occupied earlier.

Once he sat, I knelt before him, squeezing his hands and maintaining eye contact, on the brink of begging forgiveness and bursting into tears. Now was not the time for that, or for long, flowery stories, so I told him outright; "The Emperor found out about my ancestors. His heir has sent me an offer of marriage. They mean for me to return to Cyrodiil with them at once."

Hadvar's eyes closed; he swallowed thickly and nodded, his brow creased.

"I am going to the meeting with them in Solitude tomorrow to explain why I must refuse."

His eyes flashed open; his hands trembled, clasped in mine. "Celeste…" he choked out.

"It will be all right," I insisted quietly, mustering a smile I didn't feel. "It was a request, not an order."

He glanced to the fire, letting out a shaking huff. "But requests from the Emperor are…"

"I know," I assured him. I had been through all of this with Farkas. "They are as good as orders. But I will politely decline. I am good at polite," I borrowed Farkas' words.

"They…" Hadvar's eyes were back on mine, full of tears. "They could imprison you if you say no. They could hurt you."

His hesitance had so swiftly turned into alarm that fingers of fear closed around my throat; my heart ached and I mustered some strength for both of us - because I had already been through this, and I had a plan. "They won't. This is the Empire, and they believe in logic and reason and truth, and above all, honour."

"Celeste - you cannot jeopardise your life on my account," he winced.

"I am not refusing on your account," I insisted - his eyes widened and he stared, stricken. "To do so would put your life at risk, and I will not do that to you. They will accept my reason as Dragonborn."

"They want to make you Empress. Most of the Septim Empresses were Dragonborn while they reigned - if you accept, you will have - everything you need to-!"

"But I won't have you!" I cried, then made myself take a deep, anchoring breath to keep my heart from breaking. "Hadvar - all I want is you," I sobbed, pressing my forehead to our joined hands, squeezing my eyes shut to force back sudden tears. I had to do this. "My heart is yours. It always has been - always will be."

He laid a hand on my head, gentle and too tentative.

"Celeste…they won't consider a prior engagement to a lowly soldier a valid reason to refuse the Emperor what they believe is best for Tamriel," he said, his words quiet and hollow.

"I know," I admitted, drawing my gaze back up; making myself look at him. "Political needs outweigh the heart's. It is the way of the aristocracy," I muttered. "But, there is more to be considered than my heart. They assume I'll be able to delegate my Dragonborn duties to the army while I remain in Cyrodiil. They're wrong. This Dragonborn must remain in Skyrim."

Through his distress, his crossed brows hinted at confusion.

So I explained.

"The Shout to release the dragons from Alduin's thrall is the name given to Dante Vonius by Paarthurnax," I told him. "I figured out how to turn his name into a Shout today, Hadvar - and I freed - properly freed - a dragon that had been plaguing Dawnstar for months," I explained with vehemence. "It's why I'm now Thane of the Pale. But it is also why I will tell them that I must not leave Skyrim."

I kept explaining; how the Shout was connected to me, likely my very blood. That to remove me from Skyrim, from my duty, would eventually doom all of Tamriel. The army could throw all the men and women they had at the dragons Alduin resurrected, and he would wear them down one by one, harvesting more souls for his feast in Sovngarde. Without releasing the dragons, he would eventually consume them all, until none remained to fight him and his army of thralled wyrms.

Hadvar listened; his teeth caught his bottom lip. When I was done, he unwound one of his hands to hold my cheek. "Are you all right?" he shuddered, his touch barely there. "Gods…Celeste," he choked out. "You - could have-"

Closing my eyes, I covered his hand with mine, and nodded.

"I believe the General didn't want you to know about the proposal, for fear of causing…conflict," I brought him back to the matter at hand. "But I…I wrote to him," I made myself look up, conveying my apology. "I made him believe I meant to accept Alexis Vici, so he would send you to me to..."

I couldn't say it.

Hadvar huffed and shook his head. "That explains…a lot."

"I'm so sorry," I turned into his hand, squeezing my eyes closed and placing a kiss to his palm. "You deserve so much more than this - all I have put you through. But I had to see you. It was - the only way I could ensure he would send you-"

"It's all right, love," he squeezed my hand, and I felt him shift forward, opening my eyes as he pressed his forehead to mine. The hand on my cheek drifted back, fingers tangling in my hair, and a warm breath shuddered out of him. "I understand. I trust you."

"Can you stay with me tomorrow?" I pleaded. "I know you have orders, but please, just knowing you are near-"

Hadvar nodded, drawing back far enough to meet my eyes. "Anything you want. I'm yours."

Now, my brows crossed. "You won't get in trouble?"

"Why would I get in trouble?"

I pulled back a little further, regarding him with a frown. "Your orders…?"

A small smile reached him. "I was instructed to serve and honour the best interests of the Empire."

"Yes, deliberately vague."

"Or, deliberately open to interpretation," he glanced down with a small laugh. "I will honour and serve you. What you told me, about the Shout you worked out…it is in the Empire's best interests for me to protect you, whether they know it or not."

I choked out a laugh. "You…think that's what he meant?"

"It might have been," Hadvar met my eye, his determination set. "If he meant something else, he could have easily been less cryptic."

Relief swelled in my chest, bright and glowing; everything about the General's delivery of the Emperor's request had been less-than-clear so perhaps Hadvar was right. Perhaps Tullius had sent him with those specific orders, and those specific words so we could interpret them thus, if we needed to.

I threw my arms around Hadvar's neck and held him, sobbing over his shoulder. "By the Gods, I love how your mind works."

He caught me, drew me onto the chair with him, his hands closed around my waist. "It's you," he chuckled endearingly. "You make me feel so much, and think about…everything in a different light," he rest his chin on my shoulder, turned his face into my neck. "I'll do anything for you," his nose brushed the soft skin under my ear. "Whatever you need."

I knew he meant it, had always known it, but hearing him say it, so gentle and close after - everything I had made him endure made my heart sing and brought swift tears of relief to my eyes. I squeezed them shut; I had to focus just to breathe. Yes we had our duties; the world at large orbited a different centre, but I would spend the rest of the days I could call mine showing this man how much I loved him.

"Likewise," was all I managed, a whisper against his cheek, before I found his lips and kissed him, soft and sure and utterly, utterly relieved.

That night we loved each other as though it was our first time, every motion reverent with devotion. For all my confident words, the morrow loomed like a dark shadow; there were too many what-ifs and uncertainties, and a part of me feared I was walking us to our doom. But Hadvar encircled me, his touches careful and tender, his smiles soft and sincere, his declarations achingly beautiful. He offered warmth and light, guiding me from the edge of the abyss, brighter than a thousand suns.

When dawn peeked over the horizon and I woke twined with Hadvar, I faced the day with a smile.

—

With so many newcomers to the White Hall, breakfast was hasty and chaotic and it wasn't until we'd taken leave of Dawnstar that I was able to talk to Lydia.

The snow had fled to leave a sky painted in shades of blue with only pale, wispy clouds stretching its length like languid brush strokes. A gusty gale, the one that had pushed the storm in the night before, captured and tugged at every loose fold of material and lock of hair and tossed the lightest, freshest snow up in tiny whirling eddies that stung my cheeks.

Farkas and Hadvar rode before me, talking, but their words were lost before they blew my way. I assumed they were catching up on what had passed since they'd last seen each other.

Lydia drew her borrowed mare up beside the dapple Legate Tituleius had assigned me. The journey from Dawnstar to Solitude would take a matter of hours on horseback; we had sent a courier to the Blue Palace, advising Jarl Elisif we would arrive before lunch.

"Lady Dragonborn," Lydia murmured.

"Lady Belamy," I replied breezily.

Lydia and I glanced at one another, and she looked as uncertain as I felt. Seeing my feelings on her face brought a tickle of amusement to the surface, and when I laughed, she swiftly bit her lip, but her eyes shone with sudden merriment.

"Little one," she restarted when we were able to speak normally. "I want you to know I was not angry with you."

I shot her an amused, confused look. "That was a pretty good impression of what angry at me looks like," I joked. "But - I didn't take it to heart," I assured. "The situation looked bad from your side. I was angry with me."

Lydia sighed, though an evident weight lifted from her shoulders as she glanced ahead. "I care about you. Both of you," she nodded toward my fiancee. "I was already upset about - other things, and it hurt even more to see him so defeated. I knew you had obviously fallen into some difficulty and - I just don't react well when I'm powerless to help the people I love."

"I'm sorry," I wanted to move past it, but had to check it was actually resolved between us. "Did Farkas explain why I wrote that letter?"

"Mm," Lydia nodded, eyes resolutely forward. "It was, in hindsight, perhaps the only way to ensure his arrival. I'm sorry you were put in that position, and that I wasn't here to work through it with you."

"You were a little busy with the war."

"The war is not my priority, and I apologise for being distracted by it. It will not happen again, my Thane."

I wasn't sure of how to reply. She was clearly very worried; our apologies had so swiftly returned her to tension. Silence settled between us, and I searched for anything to break it. "How did Onmund get on? The White Hall was abuzz with the news of his ascent to Jarl."

Lydia glanced down. "There was little time to check. I congratulated him on your behalf, of course. I believe he wants to make you Thane of-"

"He does not," I choked, aghast.

Lydia laughed; her eyes teasing when she finally met my gaze. "Look, I wouldn't be surprised if he really did ask you to be Thane, some day. Had we not arrived at Winterhold, he might still be - well, a prisoner."

I narrowed my eyes suspiciously. "Then he should make you Thane of Winterhold. Or Farkas, for leading the Legion to victory and freeing him. All I did during my time in Winterhold was let them practise their alteration skills and ensure everybody remain under constant threat of discovery."

Lydia laughed quietly and shook her head. "You must think of the message it sends to Skyrim, if Stormcloak's son allies with the Legion and makes the Dragonborn his Thane."

I turned my gaze toward the road. "I'd rather not be motivated by political sensibilities," I grumbled.

"I didn't mean…that," she cautioned.

"It doesn't matter," I assured quietly. "After today…that will be resolved, and we can continue pursuing the Elder Scroll."

She hesitated. "Do you need it now you've unlocked the…Dante Shout?"

I barely contained a snort. "Yes. Alduin must still be banished, and the Scroll is a lead. My sister is the other."

She shook her head, her gaze drifting, faraway. "I expect word will arrive in Winterhold while we are in Solitude," she murmured. "Do you think something has happened to him?"

I repressed a shudder. "He's just been delayed," I encouraged. "Which is a good sign. It means he's following a lead."

"I suppose so," Lydia blinked hastily, refocussing. "Then, it is as you have said. Once this is done, we return to Winterhold."

"Unless…the Emperor can give me a Scroll," I echoed her sigh. "Which I doubt, given the…circumstances," I grimaced. "What a waste of time this is!"

"Do not even mention it to him or his people. I do not want you owing…the Empire, anything," she insisted. "Better that we follow up with Onmund," she lowered her voice. "Any idea who told the Empire about you?"

I shrugged helplessly. "Delphine?"

Lydia made a face. "What would she have to gain by doing that?"

"Shor only knows. But hardly anybody knew until recently, and most who did were working on wild assumption. The Empire wouldn't offer the seat of power to an assumption. Delphine was the only one actively searching for proof of our lineage."

Lydia chewed her lip, her brows creased. "That woman has issues."

"That's an enormous understatement."

Lydia huffed but said nothing more, and I checked her. She seemed distant, her gaze centred on our shield-brother's back.

I cleared my throat. "He will be all right," I promised. "Vilkas is the most cautious and capable warrior in all of Skyrim. You know that."

Lydia nodded dimly, her gaze faraway. "Yes. I am sure you are right."

I searched for a change in topic, because I could not bare the notion we had lost Vilkas to the insanity of the past fortnight and not been aware of it.

"Did Onmund keep Mersten on as steward?" I queried.

The corner of Lydia's mouth rose. "Yes, to the General's disgust."

I laughed, pressing her for information on the handover so we wouldn't have to think about what was to come.

The morning slunk on, the weak sun travelling in a low arc close to the horizon, as though reluctant to climb above the shelter of the high mountains.

The miles between Dawnstar and Solitude were traversed incident-free, and before long my escort directed our party around the main docks and up the hill to Katla's farm.

A carriage brandishing the Imperial dragon was waiting at the stable yard when we corralled the horses.

I flashed Tribune Greenband a furrowed frown. "That is unnecessary. The walk to the main gates is the work of minutes."

The Tribune shrugged apologetically. "We didn't send for it, ma'am."

"The Palace sent it m'Lady," Katla spoke up, her voice strained as she encouraged a handful of horses to follow her into the yard. "Perhaps our Lady Jarl assumed you would be wearing less appropriate shoes," she murmured pointedly.

With a flush, I checked my feet; my hardy boots peeked back at me from underneath the rolled cuffs of the trousers I had chosen to ride in, the dark brown leather flecked with mud and grime from the journey. My messy braid swung into view, and with a self-conscious tug at it, I fixed Lydia with a knowing, straight-mouthed look.

Only in Solitude did I feel this anxiety to present myself in what was largely considered an 'appropriate' manner. Perhaps it was because I knew the attitudes and expectations of those that lived here best, or perhaps it was my own pride in coming back a woman to a people who had known me as a child. All I could say for certain was that I couldn't approach the Blue Palace windswept and dressed in dirty riding garb.

She understood at once and addressed the farm owner politely. "Might the driver deliver a message to the Palace?"

"You'll have to ask him," Katla closed the stable gate - and then her attention was elsewhere, discussing the price per horse with Tribune Greenband. A pair of stable boys climbed the fence to feed and unsaddle the Legion horses.

With barely a roll to her eyes, Lydia left to talk to the carriage driver, and Hadvar approached.

"Is everything all right?"

I nodded minutely and returned his smile. "I am simply unfit to be seen in Solitude," I picked at the woollen trousers in distaste.

"I disagree," the corner of his mouth tilted, his cheeks pinking as he brushed some windswept hair behind my ear. "You look…" he bit his bottom lip in thought, eyes searching.

"Like a wild thing blown in across the plains?" I finished for him.

His hand lingered in my hair and he shook his head, chuckling softly as he drew me toward him. "You are…so lovely I am having trouble finding words."

"You are biased," I muffled into his armour.

"So?" he leant back; his half-smile turned into a grin, eyes bright with affection. "It's still true."

"What's true?" Farkas joined us, shirking my pack over his shoulder; his horse had borne the weight of it and my lute.

It was my turn to flush as Hadvar and I turned toward him; Hadvar's arm remained wound around my back. "I need a bath and some more appropriate clothes," I insisted.

"A familiar story," Farkas drawled. "I'll go get our room at the inn," he sighed.

He collected Lydia on the way; my housecarl nodded at whatever Farkas told her, and with a small wave, together they left the farm to commence the shallow ascent.

Moments later, the carriage departed, and two of the lingering Imperial officers approached.

They looked cautious, and I wondered suddenly if the group were bored. "Our orders, ma'am?"

"If we're not to make direct for the Palace, that is," the second finished bashfully.

"Oh - we will," I corrected. "I just need an hour or so at the inn first," I explained, motioning toward myself vaguely. In the corner of my eye, Tribune Greenband joined us, having finished her negotiations with the farm owner. I addressed the last to her. "You can wait in the tap room, if you like?"

"I'm not sure that would be appropriate," Jala spoke respectfully. "We're on duty."

"I can't exactly have you all in the room while I bathe."

Hadvar intervened with a gentle squeeze to my waist. "Report to Castle Dour, Tribune. Please advise Legate Caesennius of our arrival, and that we mean to make for the Palace before midday. I'll see the Dragonborn from here, and once she has prepared we will meet you in Dour courtyard."

"Aye, Legate Reidarrson," she saluted. The two other officers followed suit, and departed to their orders.

I slowly turned to face him. "Legate," I stated quietly, poking him in the ribs as my heart swelled with pride. "Why didn't you say anything?"

Hadvar flushed as he arched and swatted, offering a small, bashful smile to the earth. "I was preoccupied," he admitted.

He meant it in good humour, but the reminder sobered me. With a groan, I leaned in and pressed my forehead to his shoulder.

"I'm sorry. This whole stupid mess - we should be celebrating, and I'm dragging you to-"

"We will celebrate," Hadvar insisted with a soft laugh, drawing me back into the reluctant sunlight with a gentle hand to my chin.

I fixed him with an apologetic look and leaned into his touch. "Tonight," I promised. "When this is all over, tonight we will celebrate your promotion with our friends. Drinks on me."

"That sounds great," Hadvar's smile reached his eyes. "But I wouldn't tell Farkas you're buying."

I laughed, shaking my head in endearment.

His smile grew wider, and I realised he was happy right now simply because he had made me laugh. The understanding filled me with that bright, hopeful love he so often inspired that made me feel as though I could accomplish anything, and I twined my hand in his, uncaring of who might see, as we followed the others into the city.

—

Hadvar saw me to the inn and Lydia straight away grabbed his arm and insisted he follow her to Raiments. No sooner had they left than little Minette brought up towels and hair oils and other bathing items while her brother filled a copper tub with steaming water and wild lavender.

Once they left I sat in the warm, fragrant liquid in silence, trying to organise my thoughts while I scrubbed away the grime of travel (and dragon battle). I was drying by the fire dressed in a linen robe when Farkas returned with my armour; he'd taken it to be cleaned at the local smithy before Hadvar and I had arrived.

Lydia spent so long at Raiments that my mass of curls had dried by the time she arrived bearing swathes of material. She was followed by a baffled-looking Hadvar, who bore even more.

"Did you buy everything in the store?" my eyes widened as I went to them.

Hadvar offloaded his burdens on the bed. "Yes," he muttered.

"No," Lydia shot him an amused look. "Taarie insisted I bring one of everything that might fit you," she placed her armload down and eyed it critically, hands on hips. "She is not dumb. Everyone knows the Emperor is at the palace, and then you arrive. They must have some idea you are meeting with him."

My stomach dropped. "Do you think they suspect why?" I whispered.

Hadvar moved closer and placed an arm around my back, but Lydia snorted, sorting through the pile of clothes. "Let them gossip. It will be a moot point by sundown. This is just her way of ensuring one of her styles is worn before the Emperor."

"Will the Emperor care who makes the Dragonborn's clothes?" Farkas asked doubtfully, shifting to the window to watch the streets below.

"Of course not," with a small smile, Lydia held a stiff-looking dress out toward me, her eyes critical. "Try this. It should go well with your armour over it."

Picking at a straight sleeve, I scrunched my nose at the plush, tan-coloured material embellished by lines of gold lace and shimmering panels of ivory.

"You do know I mean to refuse them?" I checked with Lydia, arching an eyebrow. "This is opulent. Is there anything more…traditional? Modest? I dunno," I sighed, eyes drifting to the pile in dismay.

"I'm not certain Taarie does modest," Lydia murmured, placing the dress to one side.

"Don't overthink it, love," Hadvar urged, the hand around my waist squeezing gently. "This isn't about a dress."

"I know," I assured with a grimace. Whatever face I wanted to present, I had to embody it, and a dress would only convey so much. I would have to carry the meeting with my words, and while I knew what I needed to say, I didn't quite know how to say it.

"So…" Lydia selected a dress made of various textures in white and frowned at it, shaking her head. "What message do you want to convey?"

I chewed my lip. "Respect. Gratitude. But…strength, you know? Endurance. Determination. Nothing in blue, obviously."

"Obviously," Lydia echoed. "You're not trying to start a war."

"Another war," Hadvar lifted his eyebrows.

"You're all thinking too much. The colour you wear won't start a war," Farkas drawled from the window, his arms crossed.

"The Imperials wanted to cut my head off because they found me in a blue dress and assumed I was with Stormcloak," I pointed out quietly.

The room stilled.

"No that's - but," Hadvar intervened with a small, regretful tuck to his brow. "They, the higher ups," he swallowed. "They thought you were Giselle. It wasn't your dress or…Gods, Celeste, they wouldn't have just-"

"It's okay," I sank into his embrace. "It didn't happen."

"That day was…it was really something, wasn't it?" he shuddered.

He felt tense, of course he felt tense with everything else looming over us, and I regretted bringing it up to simply make a point.

"It was the day we met," I reminded him, glancing up with a fond smile. "The day you saved me," I leant up to place a soft kiss to his jaw. "The day I learnt what it was to truly love another."

He laughed, suddenly and soundlessly, and I laughed with him even as tears gathered in my eyes.

Lydia cleared her throat. "So you'll be wanting something in red?" she hazarded.

The spell broken, I turned to Lydia, though remained snug in Hadvar's arms, settling against his chest and reluctant to break away. "Warmer tones, yes. But nothing too fancy."

Lydia huffed at the pile, throwing her hands up in defeat. "This is all fancy! We'll have to go back-"

"No!" both Hadvar and I cried hastily; Lydia's green gaze pierced us suspiciously.

I mustered a smile and unwound myself to join her. "Here," I picked up the sleeve of some wine-coloured dress. "This colour."

Lydia eyed it as I extracted it from the pile and placed it on top of the others.

I inwardly cringed. It was…very elegant. Made of deep burgundy with a square neck, basque waistline and panelled skirts, the rich colour was softened along its lines by swathes of sheer, breezy bronze and gold and silver fabric.

"Your armour will dress it down," Lydia conceded with a sigh, picking at the cuff.

Resolved to have this decision done, I grabbed it and made for the changing screen.

The first impression would be important but they would, in the end, only care about what I said.

—

The preparations to meet with - and reject - the heir of the Emperor took the better part of two hours, to my bafflement. It was well after midday by the time we collected my escort from Castle Dour and commenced the climb to the Blue Palace. I had to wonder why I still needed them; they had already safely escorted me from Dawnstar without incident, and Solitude was safe ground.

The road to the palace was cluttered with officers, some in the rust-coloured tunics worn by Jarl Elisif's guards, and others in the heavy black armour of the Penitus Oculatus. Even the strip before my unoccupied Proudspire was flanked by a line of attentive-looking officers. With a jolt, I realised they were standing to attention at this moment - for me.

It was all very confronting, and I tried to convince myself this was nothing more than another performance, and that it would be over soon.

Jarl Elisif met us in the gardens, her fair face a schooled mask of unaffected loveliness. Her steward stood one step behind her, his beard neat and hair pulled back and eyes utterly attentive and focussed, and on her other side a tall man with tanned skin and dark hair stood, his armour the dark, smooth steel worn by the Emperor's highest ranked protectors.

I sent Elisif a smile, apologetic for this invasion of sorts. With a small, restrained smile of her own, she welcomed me with all the formality expected of a Jarl greeting her Thane. I dutifully replied in the expected manner with the expected low curtsy. I wished we could talk, properly talk, as we had done those months ago, but there were simply too many eyes on us to put a toe out of line.

The General by her side advised I was permitted one guard to accompany me within, and assured me I was quite safe to proceed under their protection from this point.

"Legate Reidarrson will join me," I said immediately.

The officer accepted with a small nod, and Elisif quietly cleared her throat and turned to the rest of my party, telling them there were refreshments in the upper courtyard, and they were welcome to remain there until I returned.

Falk Firebeard stepped up to lead them, and all but Hadvar and I departed. Both Farkas and Lydia cast me glances that spoke volumes of their concern about these strange proceedings, but as with Elisif, I was unable to say little more than farewell.

Jarl Elisif directed Hadvar and I inside, accompanied now by five Penitus Oculatus guards. Hadvar had approached the palace unarmed, and I was armed with only my Voice, though I wished for my bow as I stepped into the entryway and checked the shadows. All was quiet, the air as sombre and tense as the Jarl was, and it reminded me too much of the aftermath of Stormcloak's attack that fateful night so long ago.

The reality crashed down on me as we progressed; the Emperor, this conversation, was only footsteps away.

We were led around the main staircase and down a corridor in the left wing of the lower floor. All too soon, Elisif turned before a closed door and faced me. "Naturally, the Emperor and Lord Vici wish to conduct business in private. Your…Legate Reidarrson may remain by the door until negotiations have ended, or he can join the rest of your party in the courtyard, if you wish it."

"I'll stay," he decided swiftly, lowering his head respectfully.

"Yes," I confirmed hurriedly with a swallow. "I would have him stay."

The Jarl nodded once. She knew who he was to me, and she was protecting him, too. Nodding my gratitude, I stepped forward and stared at the beautifully carved wooden panel.

A tentative hand touched my shoulder. "Take heart, Celeste. We are with you," it was Elisif.

I hazarded a glance toward her. Something akin to fear must have shown in my eyes, for her expression softened in sympathy.

But she said no more. Before I could turn to Hadvar and say anything - it wasn't as though this was goodbye - the Oculatus officer by the handle leant in and opened the door.

"Lady Dragonborn, Sire," he announced.

There was no acknowledgement from within. That…wasn't good. Perhaps they already knew what I meant to say.

Elisif lowered her hand and I stepped forward to get this done. I had made my decision, I just had to express it to them adequately.

My slippered feet made no sound on the flagstones. The room was beautifully furnished with stained wood and purple cloth and gold trimmings, and a fire crackled in its grate to the right of the room. A large window framed the far wall, its curtains closed against the chill of the day, making the room seem both stuffy and gloomy at once.

I stopped short, eyes glancing over a large dining table set with wine and trays of food beside a stack of paperwork and ink pots. But neither the Emperor nor Lord Vici were sitting there; they were seated before the fireplace in two large armchairs.

As I moved toward them, mentally preparing the expected greeting, I noticed movement in the corner of my eye. Confused, I faltered and glanced at it; it was only the curtain fluttering. The window must have been open after all.

It took me another step to realise that it was odd for the window to be open but the curtains closed, and another heartbeat to realise that one of the men by the fireplace should have acknowledged my arrival by now, in some manner.

I froze, unwilling to take another step, and searched the armchairs for signs of life. I could see a tuft of smooth, dark hair above one curved chair back. A long-fingered, knobbly hand, rest casually on the arm rest of the other seat. Something slid down one of the thin fingertips, catching the firelight as it dripped to join a small pool of wetness on the stones beneath.

My breath caught as the hairs on the back on my neck stood on end.

What.

The curtain wafted again; the heavy material shuffled, and beyond it I caught the sound of a small, soft clank - and a click, as the window was unlatched.

Oh.

The window hadn't been open at all.

Somebody else is here.

There was a thumping, rushing sound in my ears, but beyond it I registered a commotion - and a lot of shouting. Farkas' voice was discernible in the clamour, though I couldn't hear exactly what anyone was yelling.

A hand landed on my arm - in a flash of fear I turned - relief filling me as Hadvar tugged me aside. I sagged into him gratefully as he shielded me against the wall of the chamber, out of the path of my shield-brother and the Penitus Oculatus as they flooded the room.

"It's her," Farkas growled, launching himself at the window. "She's here."

"Who's here?" Elisif cried out over the guards repeated orders to stand down.

"Get off me!" Farkas roared, shoving one of the more zealous officers away and pointing angrily to the chairs. "Can't you see - can't you smell it?"

Two of the Oculatus sideways glanced each other, then darted to the armchairs.

"Sire, are you-?"

"Lord Vici, what-"

Both stopped short. One turned pale, and the other wavered on the spot, eyes filling with fury as they glanced to the entryway.

"Summon Commander Maro," one whispered.

Farkas reached the curtain and threw it aside with a frustrated growl - only to meet the cool air of the pale day as it gushed into the room.

My shield-brother spun; his narrowed eyes located Hadvar. "Do not leave her side," he spat through his teeth.

Without waiting for a response, Farkas leapt out the window.

Blinking at the cold air stinging my eyes and cheeks, I turned to the next sound that drew my attention and watched through a haze of confusion. Penitus Oculatus darted into the room, all issuing orders and questioning angrily over the top of each other.

The broad one that had met us with Elisif only minutes earlier arrived and pushed the others aside to stare at what I had to assume was the bodies of the Emperor and Lord Vici.

How was this even happening?

"Commander Maro, what is the meaning of this?" Jarl Elisif called over the din.

He stared; was stricken for a beat, then a mask of impassivity slammed down. "Lock down the Palace," he commanded, his voice a low growl. "The murderer will be found."

The Commander's hardened eyes found Jarl Elisif next. "Take her back to the throne room and remain on alert."

"What?" Jarl Elisif exclaimed. "Commander, if the Palace is not safe, I must insist we evacuate-"

"There has been a breach in security, ma'am, for all we know, the murderer is trying to flush you out. Nobody is to come or go until the murderer is found."

"Get your hands off me!"

"You will unhand the Jarl at once!" Firebeard's voice could be heard over the others, and the sound of swords rasping from their scabbards echoed from the hallway.

"Stand down! Jarl Elisif, I implore you to remind your guards that you are not under arrest," Commander Maro grit, his focus on Hadvar very suddenly. "Legate, escort the Dragonborn to the throne room. She could be a target."

"Aye, sir," Hadvar replied at once, stern and officious; his hands tightened around me and he urged me to move.

Commander Maro didn't even acknowledge our departure.

"Hadvar," I choked, uncertain of what I could possibly say.

He guided me from the room. "Don't think about it," Hadvar whispered. "Just breathe. I'll do the rest for now."

When I looked over my shoulder for a final glance, the Penitus Oculatus were lowered before the arm chairs, their knelt forms made silhouette by the fireplace. A cloak already covered who I assumed was the late Lord Vici, and I caught the now grave-eyed Commander Maro draping his cloak over the body of the murdered Emperor Titus Mede II.

A/n: There we have it - all this set up for an event that happens in game and probably everybody saw coming!
Gizmo60 thanks for your amazing review! I promise someday this story will be finished - I've come too far for too long to leave it - there are complications in my real life that consume great swathes of my time and since I began Celeste's story I've found myself with less and less time to actually write. But I will get there, eventually. I probably spend much longer editing chapters than I do writing them, but I want them to be as finished as I can make them before posting. Hopefully this one meets expectations.