PART TWO: WHITERUN
Loredas, 10th of Hearthfire, 4E202
Hod punched the first soldier who came up on Gerdur's side of the wagon. She clutched Mona to her as the soldier staggered back. Two soldiers on Hod's side tried to seize him; he rounded on them with a roar. His fist swung wide. They used his momentum to throw him from the wagon and shoved him face-first to the ground.
Frodnar was still asleep in Deirdre's lap.
The captain was speaking again.
"Under the dictates of the White-Gold Concordat, you are also under arrest for the heretical worship of Talos," he announced, unfazed, as he watched Hod wrestle with the soldiers. "After interrogation by the Legion, you will be placed in the custody of the Thalmor Justiciars."
Dierdre felt a chill. This didn't make any sense. Gerdur and Hod hadn't worshiped Talos publicly in years. Not since the Thalmor had sent their Justiciars into Skyrim to enforce the White-Gold Concordat. Gerdur had described to her the day they'd tossed their amulets of Talos into the river. They didn't even utter Talos's name outside their own home.
Gerdur recoiled from the reaching hands of another soldier, hastening into the back of the wagon with Deirdre and Frodnar.
The captain focused on her calmly, still speaking. "Ownership of all your property will be forfeited to the Empire."
"I have children!" Gerdur thundered, standing like a pillar of fury. "You can't arrest a nursing mother! We're innocent!"
Frodnar stirred in Deirdre's lap. Deirdre drew him up and secured her arms around him. He blinked sleepily, brow furrowing at the scene.
"Resisting arrest will earn you more charges," the captain said.
"Sod off!"
Mona began to cry. Frodnar was wide awake, staring up at his mother.
"Mama?"
The captain's voice hardened. "We have proof of heresy sufficient to convict without trial. You're only making this harder on yourself."
Gerdur glanced at the soldiers who were dragging Hod to his feet, his hands bound behind him with rope. They frog-marched him toward the wagon by the house, all the while he struggled.
"Touch my wife and I'll kill you!" he raged. "Swear to the Aedra I'll kill you!"
The soldier who'd been reaching for Gerdur came around to stand at the back of the wagon, his gaze falling on the baby in her arms. She fixed him with a fiery glare as if daring him to make another grab for her.
"Ma'am, I don't want to risk the baby getting hurt. Please cooperate."
"Over my dead body, Imperial!"
Frodnar reached for his mother and she dropped to her knees to seize him, holding him tight with one arm, Mona with the other. Frodnar started crying too. Gerdur looked at Deirdre over her son's head, and Deirdre was shaken to see the panic in her eyes. Gerdur released Frodnar to reach out and cup her cheek.
The soldier climbed up into the wagon. Frodnar screamed; Deirdre rose to put herself between the soldier and Gerdur.
The soldier grabbed Deirdre's arm and swung her out of his path. Another soldier appeared at the back of the wagon to snatch her down.
"No!" she burst, twisting in his grasp, but the man looped an arm around her waist and pulled her away so another soldier could get into the wagon. Deirdre kicked and strained against the soldier's grip to no avail. He practically carried her over to the captain.
"You can't!" she pleaded. "They didn't do anything!"
"What do we do with this one, Captain?"
The captain looked at her. "You're the ward? The orphan?"
They knew about her. "Yes! Gerdur and Hod didn't do—"
"Am I correct that you're sixteen, and no relation?"
Deirdre stopped short. He was asking if she was a child, if she needed to be handled like Mona and Frodnar. But if Gerdur and Hod were being arrested, what did that mean? What happened to children whose parents were arrested? If they really were taking Gerdur and Hod away, she had to stay with them somehow.
"Miss?" the captain pressed.
"What are you doing with the children?"
She watched him realize she'd understood his true question. "Arrangements have been made for them. They're going to the orphanage in Riften."
Orphanage. Surely they wouldn't actually make Mona and Frodnar orphans. Her throat grew tight.
"I want to go with—"
"I'm fairly certain my information said you're sixteen, so no, you can't. Orphanages don't take adults."
Deirdre thought frantically on what to do. Frodnar was screaming, one of the soldiers was shouting. She looked around the man who still had her to see Frodnar tucked under the arm of a soldier, feet kicking uselessly in the air. Another soldier had Gerdur on the ground, securing her wrists with rope. She couldn't see where they'd put Mona.
Tears stung her eyes. The soldier holding her had slackened his grip while she'd been talking with the captain. She wrenched free of him, darting to the captain, grabbing one of his gauntlets with both hands. She had to plead as if her life depended on it—because Gerdur and Hod's might.
"Please don't do this, it's a mistake! They're innocent! You can't arrest them!"
The soldier she'd escaped from made to grab her again; the captain held up a hand to stop him.
"I swear they're innocent!" Deirdre cried, putting her whole soul into her words. "I swear on my life!"
No one could have seen Ulfric and Ralof a year ago. How could they possibly know about the single night when they'd harbored the Jarl of Windhelm? They just couldn't. Like the charge of Talos worship, it made no sense.
A change came over the captain's face. He was staring at her, and she could see him thinking something over. She felt a flicker of hope. Yes, he had to see reason. If he just listened to her, she could prove these charges were empty.
The captain closed his eyes and rubbed them with his thumb and forefinger, as if he'd grown suddenly weary. He inhaled and sighed through his nose.
"Lieutenant, get us ready to go," he said to the soldier who'd grabbed her. He opened his eyes and appraised Deirdre. "I'm going to have a talk with her."
He motioned toward the house, and it took Deirdre a moment to realize he was giving her a chance to plead her case. Her flicker of hope became a spark.
"Captain," the lieutenant said, disapproving.
"As I said."
The captain leveled a stern look at him. The lieutenant shut his mouth and saluted. Nodding, the captain strode toward the house. Deirdre stepped after him, pausing to watch Gerdur being loaded into the wagon where Hod was. He was still trying to break free, but his feet must have been chained to the floor. Both the children were wailing. Faendal and Camilla were still standing at the edge of the yard holding hands, Camilla covering her mouth, tears streaking her face.
"I don't have all day, girl," the captain barked. He'd already reached the door of the house and opened it. Deirdre scurried to catch up, following his direction when he signaled for her to enter first.
She walked in past the table to stand at the hearth, pivoting to face him. The captain closed the door, and the room fell dim.
"Sir, please lis—"
"I've had a very long day, miss," the captain interrupted. He walked to the head of the table and kicked the chair out, plopping himself onto it with a groan. He removed his helmet and set it on the table. "I don't owe you any kind of explanation. I'm only having this talk for your sake, understand?"
Deirdre didn't want an explanation. She wanted him to let Gerdur and Hod go.
"Yes, sir,"
"It's Captain Kensley."
She put her fists behind her back and clenched them. "Yes, Captain Kensley."
"Good girl. Get some light in here; I can barely see."
Deirdre lit the hearth and set out a couple of candles on the table. The captain waited in silence, alternating between observing the room and observing her. It made her self-conscious.
Once they had adequate lighting, and she was waving out her matchstick, she tried again.
"Captain Kensley, Gerdur and Hod haven't worshiped—"
He held up a hand. "Impatient, aren't you? How's about you get me a drink first. I'm parched."
It took effort to keep her face neutral. Deirdre again left the table, heading to the room behind him to retrieve a mug and fill it from the cask in the corner. On her way back, she couldn't help but notice a spot on the crown of his head where his hair was thinning. She reminded herself that he was human. It was that humanity she'd have to appeal to.
She set the mug before him and the captain reached for it.
"Much obliged, miss." He lifted the mug and took a sip. He made a face. "What is it with you Nords and mead? Would it kill you to get some beer every now and again?"
Deirdre did not answer. This wasn't some tavern, and she wasn't some tavern wench. What did he expect?
Despite his complaint, the captain took a long drink. He lowered the mug with a sigh and observed it, smacking his lips. "Could be worse."
Standing with her back to the hearth, on the captain's left, Deirdre clenched her hands behind her again.
"Captain Kensley. Gerdur and Hod are innocent. It's just not possible for you to have proof that they're not. Please, please don't arrest them."
The captain stared at her. She could see him thinking again, and hoped he was weighing her words.
At last, he said, "I know."
Deirdre did not move. The captain held steady eye contact.
She tried to understand. "You … know?"
"I know they're innocent," he said slowly, "and it doesn't matter. I'm siccing the Thalmor on them so I can seize their lumber mill."
Deirdre … did not understand.
The law against Talos worship may have been wrong, and the Empire may have been wrong to call Ulfric a traitor, but these were arguable from an Imperial standpoint—she could understand how they could argue the opposite and feel justified. But the captain knew Gerdur and Hod were innocent—or at least, didn't actually know they were guilty. So this wasn't possible. This situation was not possible.
But she was here. Gerdur and Hod were detained outside.
She did not understand.
Seeing her confusion, the captain leaned back in his chair. He began fiddling with one of his gauntlets, undoing a buckle as casually as if they were having a friendly conversation. "Listen carefully, Miss Orphan. The only reason I'm telling you this is because there is no one on Nirn you can appeal to. This is going to happen; it's out of even my hands now." He removed his gauntlet and held up his bare hand, wiggling his fingers before setting the gauntlet on the table. He started removing the second one. "And even if you find someone to tell, no one would believe you. I could come up with an entire cadre of people to produce any evidence we needed to discredit you."
He set the second gauntlet next to the first. Then he reached into a satchel on his belt and produced an amulet of Talos. He set it on the table with a deliberate thunk.
Deirdre felt like she was disconnecting from her body. Her brain kept repeating to her that this was not possible. Similar to the way her brain sometimes spoke into her nightmares, saying the same thing. Except she wasn't waking up.
The captain clasped his hands atop the table. "You're young enough that you probably don't remember the Great War. But it was expensive. When Stormcloak started his little rebellion, the Legion's coffers were still in a bad way. We thought we'd crush him in a few months—and, well, we almost did, but that dragon destroyed Helgen before we could finish the job. So, the Legion's been bleeding money for a year longer than we'd planned, and dealing with losing Helgen, on top of it."
Money? He was talking about money? She was advocating for Gerdur and Hod's freedom, and he was talking about something as unrelated as the Legion's finances?
Deirdre placed both hands on the table to steady herself, staring blankly at the amulet of Talos he'd set down. "I don't understand," she said quietly. "Why—What does any of that have to do with Gerdur and Hod?"
The captain tapped a finger against the tabletop, as if to draw her attention to it. "These people have been making a pretty profit off of us for a year now. Charging us out the nose, because we're scrambling to rebuild Helgen and they know there's not another mill around for leagues. And even then, they're barely keeping up with demand." He drew his finger up the tabletop and tapped it again. "Whiterun is just north of here. But Balgruuf is delusional; wants to pretend there isn't a war going on, and he won't let us into his city. Helgen is the closest we have to a centralized stronghold in Skyrim. We need to speed up the rebuild, and we need new revenue."
He let his words percolate in her mind. The picture was beginning to grow clear.
She didn't want to understand.
"So you made up these charges … so you could steal the mill. And make money."
When she looked at him, he actually smiled a little, as if pleased to hear her conclusion. "They're not implausible charges, you have to admit. I looked into these people. The wife's got a brother in the rebel army, and we know for a fact he was captured in the ambush last year. It's almost certain he came through Riverwood after his escape, isn't it? Who's to say Ulfric Stormcloak wasn't with him?"
He sat back and spread his hands. "And every 'true Nord' is secretly a Talos worshiper, aren't they? All it takes is a planted amulet. Even if the Legion can't prove they helped a rebel, the Thalmor can lock them up for life."
Deirdre wanted to sit down. But she couldn't fall apart with the captain watching. She recalled the last Imperial captain she'd met, the woman in Helgen who'd dragged her to the chopping block, the utter lack of mercy in her. This captain was the same. Why had she thought he'd be human? Why had she thought he could be reasoned with?
A bitter, caustic hatred for this man, and everything he represented, flared within her. The Empire was evil. She despised him. She despised them. She wouldn't expect anything from an Empire sympathizer ever again.
A certain face flashed through her mind, ruddy, with dark red hair. His tone had been patient, his remorse real. He'd wanted to save her. Ulfric Stormcloak had almost certainly killed him.
Captain Kensley's hand, dry and callused, suddenly covered one of hers. Deirdre stiffened.
"You are an orphan after all, aren't you?" the captain asked. "This house is property of the Empire now. Do you have somewhere else to go?"
This house is property of the Empire now.
Deirdre felt sick. It was a foregone conclusion; Gerdur and Hod's innocence or guilt didn't matter. The powers in charge could do whatever they wanted. She wasn't clever enough, or politically powerful enough, to do anything.
Assuming her silence to be a negative answer, the captain spoke again. "I may have an option for you, if you're willing. I own a house in Solitude—nothing grand, mind you, and I'm hardly there. But I believe my cook is still looking for a scullery maid."
She couldn't process this. The change of subject was too fast. Her own accommodations were the furthest thing from her mind. What sort of prison would Gerdur and Hod be condemned to? For how long? How would Frodnar and Mona manage in an orphanage, separated from everything they knew? Would they live their lives, Frodnar gradually forgetting his parents, Mona never even knowing them?
As if reading her mind, the captain said, "You might be able to take custody of the children if you can prove you have a steady income and a place for them to live."
She snapped to attention. The captain smiled that little smile again, pleased she'd reacted properly. His hand was still covering hers.
"I can help you out," he said.
He stood. His hand glided up her arm, raising goosebumps along it, and as he came around the table, Deirdre realized two things.
First, she was alone with Captain Kensley.
Second, Hod was not going to barge in and save her.
The captain's hand closed around her upper arm as she tried to jerk away. His grip acted like an anchor; she leveraged her whole weight against it without him budging.
"Captain K-Kensley," she stuttered.
He barked a laugh. "The innocent act, is it? Should I play along?"
Deirdre used her other hand to try and disengage his fingers, mounting panic making her legs shaky, her body on high alert. "I'm not p-playing. Please let go."
He did the opposite. Pulled her in so she was pressed against his steel breastplate, locked an arm around her waist. "Pretty little thing, aren't you?"
Deirdre was choking on her own terror. "Don't," she got out, before the captain leaned down as if to kiss her. She slapped both hands over her mouth and turned her face away.
He laughed again. "You ever had a sweetheart, sweetheart? Am I the first?" The hand not around her waist traced a thumb down her temple, up and around her ear. He gripped her hair at the base of her skull, just above her braid. She whimpered into her hands, afraid if she moved them he'd kiss her.
"You were so bold when you ran over to me outside," the captain said.
Too quickly, he turned her around and shoved her into the table. The edge hit her in the stomach. He left one hand in her hair, stepped flush against her back, and placed his other hand palm-first on the table next to the amulet of Talos.
Speaking against her ear, he said, "You know this is what you really wanted."
The table was pressing against something awkward at Deirdre's left hip—and she remembered Aela's dagger. She looked at the captain's hand on the table as his teeth grazed her ear.
She did not think. She drew the dagger, raised it, and stabbed it through his hand into the tabletop.
The captain screamed bloody murder. He released her, practically shoving her aside to reach for the dagger in the back of his hand. Deirdre ran around the table to the door, flinging it open; the orange sunset nearly blinded her.
"YOU LITTLE BITCH!" roared the captain.
Deirdre fled into the yard, stumbling when she reached the center, unsure where to go now. Behind her she heard a grating sound and a cacophonous thud, as if the captain had just thrown the table.
The lieutenant was staring at her, startled. She caught sight of the Thalmor out of the corner of her eye, looked at him, saw confusion on his angular face. She looked at the lieutenant again. His wide eyes shifted to something behind her. She heard thundering footsteps. She darted toward the lieutenant.
She did not make it. The captain seized her by the hair again, yanking her painfully back. She cried out. The captain swung her around; she nearly tripped, came face-to-face with him. His expression was contorted with rage.
He reeled back with his good fist. The next thing Deirdre knew she was on the ground, unable to see through a swimming blackness, the world tilting crazily beneath her. Her skull was ringing. Her eyes began streaming from the pain. Something hot and wet began trickling from her left brow into her eye.
"Deirdre!" someone screamed—Camilla.
"What do you think you're doing?" Faendal.
Rough hands seized her arms, drew them to her back.
"Rope, Lieutenant," the captain barked.
"Sir—"
"Rope, Lieutenant!"
Someone must have brought the captain some rope, because as her vision started to come back, Deirdre felt her wrists being bound. He made the knot tight enough she knew her hands would go numb.
She was swaying on her feet when the captain dragged her back up. He shoved her to the lieutenant, who caught and steadied her. She reflexively tried to pull away.
"Is she also under arrest, Captain?"
"She assaulted an officer of the Legion."
The captain's hand came up under Deirdre's chin, lifting it harshly. The entire left side of her face was pulsing, blood blinding her left eye, tears blurring her right.
"I tried to help you," the captain spat. "And this is the thanks I get?"
He held up his bloody hand, which twitched in pain. Deirdre said nothing. He dropped her chin with a noise of disgust.
"Should I load her with the others?" the lieutenant asked, voice strained, as if he could barely keep it in check.
The captain thought for a moment. "No. That's what she wants. We'll take these ones back to Helgen; you take her to Dragonsreach dungeon. See how she likes a night in a jail cell."
He leaned in close once more. Deirdre cringed back.
"We'll see how grateful you are after getting a taste of your other options, Miss Orphan."
He stalked away. The lieutenant was left holding onto her, both of them silent. Deirdre was trembling.
She tried to blink some clarity into her vision, only able to see through her right eye. The Thalmor was walking across the yard toward the horses. The captain had gone back into the house. Faendal and Camilla were holding each other, still there on the sidelines.
The lieutenant gave a long, heavy sigh.
"Let's go, miss."
He walked Deirdre toward the horses. She was just able to make eye contact with Gerdur in the back of the soldiers' wagon; she'd been gagged while Deirdre was in the house. The soldiers must have gotten tired of her and Hod screaming.
Deirdre felt a weight fall over her whole body, threatening to crush her. Gerdur's eyes were shiny with unshed tears.
The lieutenant hoisted Deirdre up onto one of the horses, forcing the eye contact to break, and climbed up behind her. There was nowhere to recoil to. She loathed him, loathed his touch; she imagined fighting, flinging herself from the saddle and him with her.
But her head was pounding. She felt physically unable to struggle against that crushing weightiness.
The lieutenant kicked his horse into a trot, and they started off toward Whiterun.