Majestic and the

Talking Draugr

Chapter 2

7th of Evening Star, 4E 183. Northern Skyrim

My hand was failing me. Feebly attempting to shield my face from the bitter cold. Shards of the snow battering my face. Skyrim was giving me everything she had. Did I want to be out here? No. Did my wife want me to be out here? Yes. Did I have any choice? Hahaha, right...and I'm the next emporer!

Were a bird to fly over this scene, it would laugh at the pitiful farmer trudging across the nothern Skyrim wastes, making his way to...whatever had made that thunderous crash. Living on the coast of the Sea of Ghosts, Fyn knew what it was. That sea was foul. Climbing to the top of a small hill, he was able to get a better look at the biggest shipwreck he had ever seen, there were survivors everywhere! Helpers helping, and sailors drowning. He had to get down there! NOW!

-:-

Water erupted from my mouth as I coughed away the last moments of my life. I was going to die, I knew it. The prophet had said we were doomed to die without an equal gendered team of sailors, but we couldn't find one more fucking WOMAN! I stopped fighting, I knew this was Talos inviting me to Sovengarde. Maybe I'd chat with Ysgramor, share a drink with his son Yngol, and do epic battle alongside the five-hundred companions of old.

"That woulde be..."

The Nord sailer spent the last moments of his life thinking of a worthy word to describe the honour of the acticited he's longed for.

-;-

Fyn paid his respects to the Nord sailor's corpse he discovered next to the ship, he was wearing a rather noticeable ring. 'Majestic Queen of the Ocean' he read along the side of the ship. He'd heard of it, that ship was supposed to be unsinkable, but after seventy-four long years of loyal service to the East Empire Trading company, it looks like Fyn, an insignificant farmer who was born in Rorikstead, would be the one to bear witness to the end of this legendary vessel. Insignificant...that's what he thought...

As he began his search for any survivors, his heart froze and blood curled at the sound of a baby, and it was somewhere on the ship! With no second thought, he immediately set of to find its owner. After what felt like an eternity, he finally found the babe, curled up in the dying arms of her mother, a woman wearing an exact replica of the ring the sailor outside had, they must have been married. The mother had almost left this world, but it was the need, the absolute, unquestionable DUTY, to protect her young that gave her the strength she needed to hold on to life and her child. She used her last breath on an order for Fyn, who by now had needles poking the back of his eyes as he knealt beside the woman.

"Take...her. Keep her..." He waited

"Sa...fe..."

He took a look of grim responsibility before taking the baby girl in his satchel and the woman over his shoulder. He was going to leave her next to her husband so they could journey to Souvengarde together.

-:-

Seven Years Later

23rd of First Seed, 4E 200

Her laughter bounced of off the wooden walls with the same vibrancy and life as her footsteps, her grin wide enough to ward off the effects of even Medusa's stare. Her father, a lowly famer, was trying to get her dressed, but she loved the feel of the cold of Skyrim. She was a Nord, so it didn't bother her. Her linen under-shorts and bra suiting her just fine, but her father had other ideas.

"Get here now, Majestic!" Fyn yelled. "Or I won't let you see..." Majestic stoppped in her tracks, knowing what he was about to say, her looks of worry clashing with his looks of victory over her in mid-air.

"Njurik" he said, as his lip curled into a cruel smile. He knew what she thought of Nurik, he knew what all of the girls Majestic's age thought of him. They swarmed him, and adored him, and begged him to acknowledge them...but he only acknowledged one girl. Majestic.

"Father, I keep telling you, you can no more keep up apart than you can nail water to a tree."

"Ah, but if this water's in a bag!" He replied triumphantly

"Gods above, Father."

"Tell me I'm wrong"

Silence.

"Uh-huh, that's what I thought. Now put this on!" He threw her dress at her, and she stared at it, then back up at him, she had that look on her face. Clavicus Vile, daedric prince of deals and bartering, himself must have blessed her at birth. Majestic can get away with paying a mere two gold septim's at a market for something that was ten or even twenty, and you'd know she was going to try and barter when she had that shine in her eye and curl on her delicate lips.

"Father" she said soflty, "can I at least take the sleeves off?" Fyn considered her proposal, and agreed since it would still cover...the "things" that needed covering.

"Ok fine" he said with defeat.

"YES!" She screamed with happiness little seen in this day and age, and by that I mean 4E 200. "Oh my GODS! Njurik is going to love me in this!"

"She talks about him as if he's the next addition to the nine divines" Fyn thought to himself.

"Play safe!" he yelled, concern lasin his voice.

"I have to get out of that, she's almost a young woman. Hard to believe it's been seven years." Fyn decided to go and see the other woman he cared about, he walked outside to his back garden. His throat drying out and eyes watering as he looked upon his wife's grave. It had been three years since she passed, Grelyn, a fine example of a Nord woman. Majestic worshiped her, and Grelyn adored Majestic. They baked sweetrolls, picked flowers in the meadow, prayed to the gods together...every night too. He was ripped from his memories with the sharp knock of his door.

"Thalmor patrol, Fyn Hujrden, we know you're in there, open up or we will force this door down."

"Oh Majestic," he muttered, tears now freely lining his aged face, "If only you knew why I wanted you to get dressed so quickly..."

The end of this part.

Stay tuned...