Travel continued without much conversation. Other than pointing out any potential dangers and making sure they were on the correct path. Over an hour later, the stone foundation of Windhelm could be spotted. Braxen felt a sense of relief like never before. Stopping to admire it from down the road.
"There it is Skoref. Skyrim's greatest city. Staple of the proudest nords. Talos' most fierce warriors. Most importantly, my home."
Skoref breathed heavily as he leaned on Braxen. "Real nice. Can we just...get there. I'm very tired...and hungry."
She acted as a cane for Skoref, who still carried both bags. Approaching the bridge, Braxen smiled like a child receiving a birthday gift, with every passing object jogging her memory. Smelling horse crap emanating the stables. Snow beating her face, giving chills that made her spine shiver. An icy lake beneath a beaten bridge where fishermen caught the morning's haul. It felt so good to be back. A guard opened the front gate and Braxen had finally returned to Windhelm.
Skoref's head swung back and forth. Dumbfounded at what he saw. "Braxen. Please tell me I'm dreaming."
"I know it's incredible."
"That's not what I meant. Are you telling me this is the great Windhelm you won't shut up about? This cold, dark, depressing rock. What a let down."
"Hush your mouth! Of course someone as pampered and protected as you can't understand how a true nord lives. Come, the inn is right ahead of us." Inside Candlehearth Hall, Braxen sat Skoref in a chair as she talked to the innkeeper, Elda Early-Dawn.
"Can I help you?"
"Um, I was looking to rent a room. I only have enough for one. Me and the boy over there."
Elda peered over at Skoref who slouched in his chair, falling asleep. Then back at the dirty elf carrying the sword and shield. "You're not trying anything, are you elf?"
"He's my-he's my...fiancée." She gagged a bit. "We've been through a lot to get here. We are very drained."
Edna took the gold. "Last room on the right is open. I'm watching you."
"One more thing. Did you happen to see a man by the name of Savos Aren? I'm supposed to meet him here."
"Name doesn't ring any bells."
"When he arrives, tell him to ask for Skoref and um, Dovida." She carried Skoref to the room, laying him on the bed. Sleeping like a newborn, his chest pumped in and out with each breath. Rest well deserved for the boy. A small glow shined from Skoref's pocket. Braxen reached in, finding a crumpled nirnroot plant. Braxen patted him on the shoulder before heading to the market area.
In a corner of Windhelm were a group of market stands found in most cities. There were a few she didn't recognize but her favorite hadn't gone anywhere. Oengul the blacksmith. A master of his craft. Braxen recalled bringing his sword to Oengul after a battle. Sharing tales with an old friend over a stiff drink. Now, Oengul wouldn't give her a second glance. Jarring to say the least. Trying to piece together more information, a familiar voice caught her attention.
"I'll take four carrots, two heads of garlic and a pound of salt."
Long, black hair, shining like the moon, stood at the vegetable stand, wearing an expensive noble dress. Face turned away from view. Braxen's heart skipped a beat. Could it be. Step by step, she eased her way over to the stand. Everything else became white noise. Vision blurring with only this woman in sight. Reaching out to touch what she's been yearning for the last week.
"Mommy!"
Braxen stopped, just shy of contact. A young boy dressed in a fine coat ran over to hug the woman. Despite being a bit older than memory served, this let Braxen get a definitive answer. In her mind, she knew. Braxen began tearing up. Midan hadn't aged a day. Rorke. No longer Braxen's baby boy. Growing into a fine young man, happy as can be. Lost in euphoria, she couldn't hear Midan speaking to her.
"Miss, are you alright?"
Braxen broke her trance. "Uh, I, you and." She fumbled over every spoken word. A guard gripped Braxen by the arm.
"Is this homeless woman bothering you Mrs. Stormcloak?"
"Homeless!" Braxen snapped. "How dare you call-Mrs. Stormcloak?"
"It's all right, she must be new to the city." Said Midan. The guard released Braxen and went back to his post. Midan handed a few gold coins to Braxen, who stood in disbelief at what she heard. "My apologies to the guard. I'm trying to get them to go easier on newcomers of, other cultures. My husband Ulfric is very thick headed but I'm working on him. You look like you've had a pretty rough day. Is there anything I can do for you?"
Braxen was so lost in the moment, she forgot the reality. Here she is, in a blood soaked dress. Smelling foul and hair in a bundled cluster. Crying in the middle of a market where people were pointing and whispering. Unrecognizable to the people who once heralded Braxen as a champion. Now a stranger in a place supposedly called home. On the verge of breaking, she ran off. Anywhere. Anywhere but here. Get away from this nightmare. Bending a corner, she slipped on a set of steps, crashing into the stone below. Coins clinked and rattled on the icy ground. Braxen laid there, eyes to the sky as citizens walked around her. Not a single person caring for the fallen woman.
"You dropped these miss." Local beggar, Silda the Unseen kneeled over Braxen. The gold coins in her hand.
"Keep them. I have no need for money."
"Well at least get up. Don't want people stepping on you." Silda helped Braxen to her knees, where she stayed. "I wouldn't take the towns folk ignoring you personally. No one really care about us homeless folk."
Braxen didn't know Silda but was very familiar with beggars across Skyrim. Never once had he interacted with them, only chastising them amongst his soldiers for not fighting for Ulfric instead of being useless.
"So I can keep the gold?" Asked Silda.
"Only if you can answer a question for me."
"To the best of my abilities."
"Do you know of Stormcloak captain, Braxen Thor?"
"I think so. Why do you care?"
"What happened to him? I need to know!"
"I have no clue. Whatever happens to the Stormcloaks doesn't affect me. Although, my friend is a former Stormcloak. He should know. Angrenor! Come here!"
The name resonated with Braxen. Another poorly clothed beggar joined the party. A nord of all things.
"Yes, yes, what do you want woman?"
"This elf is asking about a Stormcloak named Braxen. Didn't you know one?"
"Braxen eh? No one has mentioned that name in a while."
Braxen's eyes grew wide. "Why is that?"
"That's cause he's been dead for two years."
In that moment, everything Braxen held dear, shattered before her eyes. All of it, gone. The legacy, accomplishments, honor, valor, bloodshed, love, was now locked away in a wooden box. Rotting in Windhelm's Hall of the Dead. While Windhelm moved into the future, Braxen lived in the past.
"Braxen was good man. Sad how he went out." Said Angrenor. "As I recall, we fought in the same unit that day he disappeared. Me, Braxen and a few soldiers scouted around the Rift as a favor to Riften's Jarl, Laila Law-Giver. We treaded east, finding an imperial camp and war ensued. I took a sword through the chest, putting me into retirement."
"No one cares about your war stories, just get to the good part." Said Silda.
"Alright. Braxen, the crazy bastard he was, took one of our men and chased a couple of fleeing Imperials. Neither returned. A search party was dispatched. It took nine days but we found his body near an abandoned cave. He was pale. Ghost like. Eyes pure white, as if the soul within him had vanished. The other solider's body vanished. Hasn't been found to this day. I was devastated. My brother in arms. A man who I spent years with, no longer by my side."
"Angrenor she's gone. You boring moron" Said Silda. Angrenor stopped reminiscing, as Braxen had indeed left.
Braxen wandered the city. Drooping like an undead warrior. Eventually making her way back to the bridge outside the city gates. Halfway across, she climbed on the barrier as snow pellets scratched her cheeks. Down below, a layer of ice formed on the water. It would suffice. Braxen closed her eyes and recited one last prayer.
Praise be almighty, leader of man
Forgive me for all I've done wrong
Bless those who look to do right
I defend thy name against non believers
Lead the way to Sovngarde, Talos guide me
Tilting over the edge, Braxen let her body fall. Closing in on the descent, she hit the ice, blacking out. Cold, very cold. Incredibly, bone chilling cold. Braxen now found herself in a snowy tundra. Fog covered mountains in the distance. This didn't seem like the Sovngarde soldiers told tales of.
"You. Little. Milk drinker."
Emerging from the distance, male Braxen revealed himself. Wearing Stormcloak officer armor. He looked displeased while circling the elf. She stood shivering, freezing from head to toe.
"I have a question, Dovida. That's what your calling yourself now isn't it?"
"What sorcery is this?"
Braxen folded his arms. "None. Call it a bit of self reflection."
"So this is not Sovngarde?"
"Sovngarde is reserved for the real sons and daughters of Talos. Not some coward like you."
"Calling me out of my name? After everything I've given this city. I no longer have a place amongst the nords."
"You're right. You don't. Braxen Thor does. The problem is, Braxen Thor died a long time ago and that's not who you are anymore."
"Yes, rub in it at how our life sits in the body of an elf. Does this not bother you?" She screamed.
"It does. If it didn't I'd be a liar and we know that's not true. Fact of the matter is, the moment a lad picks up a blade, that clock is ticking. At any moment, it can end. You know this."
Dovida pulled at her hair. "But Midan."
"Will always be there. Would you rather have them on street, begging for charity. Have her back whoring? Suffering with you not around?"
"Of course not." She softly replied. "But what do I do now?"
"Rebuild. You're younger, faster, more agile and have assets that create advantages we never had before. There's forty years of knowledge in that head, putting you years ahead of commanders twice your age. This is a second chance at life. Times are changing and an opportunity to create a new legacy has been presented. As well, this Dovida. You owe it to her and every innocent slaughtered to put this body to use. Hunt down those who dare challenge you and BRING ME THEIR HEAD!"
Snarling like a rabid wolf, a fire light inside of Dovida. He's right. No matter who's body this was, Braxen's soul lived with Talos and she would meet him when the time was right. That time isn't now. Standing straight up, she pounded a fist to her chest. Braxen mirrored the image, showing his respect. The mountains rumbled as a massive tidal wave rolled her way.
"That's your cue." Said Braxen. "Ever want to talk, I'll be here."
Dovida nodded. The wave made contact, washing her away. At that moment, Skoref drug himself and her from the icy drink. Sitting on the ice, Skoref shouted Braxen's name. Pleading for her safety. She coughed up a fair bit of water and came to.
"Skoref?"
He sighed in relief. "Man. Thought I'd lost you." Dovida's eyes watered. He couldn't tell if she was about to cry or just really wet. Dovida hugged him tightly, planting a kiss on his forehead. Squeezing his head against her chest.
"Skoref you wonderful boy. You came through for me! I am so damn glad to see you. I take back most of what I said about you. Many thanks my boy!"
"You're welcome. Wait, most of what you said?"
"Ahem." Dovida paused the celebration to notice the dark elf on standby. "Hello, I am Savos Aren. 'Braxen, I presume?"