Svala entered Windhelm in the middle of the night, thankfully, followed closely by Thorald. It seemed that Ulfric had gifted her with her very own guard dog, the way the soldier closely monitored the movements of those in her proximity.
Damn annoying it was.
Once they stopped outside of Hjerim, she had finally had enough. "Oi, go sleep in the palace." She told him, fishing out the key to her house. "There's no room for you here."
Thorald frowned at her. "Stormblade, all do respect, King Ulfric asked me-"
"Two things," she snapped, wiggling two fingers in front of his face. "One, Ulfric is not here. Two, he's not king yet. So either do as I say or I'll shout you to Jorleif myself."
He stiffened and nodded. "Aye, Stormblade. I shall be in the palace should you need my assistance."
Svala huffed under her breath as he (quickly) departed. She watched him leave until he disappeared from view before turning back to the door, and then she froze. There was a piece of parchment stuck to the wood by a bloody, iron dagger. The only things upon the parchment were a large black handprint and the words we know scrawled messily at the bottom.
Instantly she regretted sending Thorald away, even though logically she knew Calder was awaiting for her just past the door. However, a darker voice inside her head reminded her that it was very possible the same individual who had left the menacing note had also killed Calder, and Sofie for that fact.
"Fuck," she swore under her breath, unlocking the door and pushing it open with trembling hands. However, she sighed in deep relief when she saw Calder on the staircase, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.
"Pleasure to see you again, my thane," he smiled groggily at her. "I take you bring us good news?"
She was momentarily paralyzed, the parchment still crumbled in her grip. How could she be sure this was really Calder? Trearil had managed to disguise himself as Wuunferth and had wormed his way into the very castle, after all. What was to stop him from ambushing her at home?? She wracked her brains for something only Calder would know...something Trearil would never be able to find out... "What was the first meal you served me?" She snarled at him, unsheathing her weapon and pointing it at her own housecarl.
"Snowberry crostadas and salmon steaks," Calder answered suddenly seeming much more awake. "Is everything alright, my thane?"
Relief surged through her once more and she sagged against the wall, exhausted once more. Ulfric had all but demanded that she leave Solitude once he discovered the rest of the usurped jarls hiding in Elisif's cellar, sending her back to Windhelm with the sun's rise, Thorald in tow. All in all, she had only managed a few hours sleep since the unofficial reign of Ulfric Stormcloak had begun and her body was all but screaming at her in protest.
"My thane, let me escort you to bed." Calder told her kindly, suddenly appearing by her side and supporting her weight against him. "You must be exhausted from your journey."
She nodded, her head foggy with the need for sleep. "Is Sofie alright?"
"She's fine," he answered her warmly. "She grows stronger as a budding mage each day, and I fear she's already worn out the books you got her from the College," he chuckled. "She's even been selling her potions down at the market."
Her eyes filled with tears, remembering Sofie standing outside that very market moons ago, selling her flowers and weeds for food. By time Calder had helped her into bed the tears were flowing freely. "We won," she told him, hoping he'd associate her crying with the message she was giving him. "Ulfric will be king, Tullius is dead. There will be a feast at the palace soon to celebrate."
"Talos has blessed us." Calder squeezed her hand tightly. "You have done us a great service, my thane. All of Skyrim owes you a debt."
She wanted to laugh as she cried, thinking of Alduin. How strange it was knowing that she was the only one who knew that it would mean the end of all mankind if she did not fulfill her destiny and slay the beast. "I can't stay here," she told him instead. "As long as I'm here, it's not safe for her. For you." For Jorleif, Thorald, Ulfric. Any of them, really. Wherever she went she brought chaos and death.
"I have sworn my life to protect you and the child, Svala," Calder told her gravely, staring deep into her eyes. "I can think of no finer reason to go to Sovngarde if that is what fate demands. Now please, sleep." He extinguished the candles by her bedside and as darkness covered the room, she slipped into a deep, dreamless sleep before Calder had even left the room.
Svala passed the time before the feast as peacefully as she knew how. Sofie had been overjoyed once she had (finally) awoken from her slumber two days later, eagerly catching her up on the comings and goings of Windhelm while she had been away at war. She let the girl talk her ears off, smiling and trying her best to stay in the moment, although her mind was a whirlwind of conflicting thoughts.
For one, it wasn't totally fair for Svala to continue to call Sofie a "girl"- her childish body had started to develop the soft curves of womanhood while she had been away, although she didn't believe Sofie had had her blood yet. Even the way she carried herself was more confident, more mature...it made Svala painfully aware of just how much she had missed while fighting Ulfric's war.
For another, after the feast she was leaving Windhelm. For good.
Svala had delayed leaving long enough. While part of her (deep inside) would've wanted nothing more than to stay in the city with Sofie, maybe even at Ulfric's side as queen, she knew it was not in the stars for her. The gods had given her a task and she needed to complete it for the sake of all Tamriel. She couldn't afford to be selfish anymore.
So, one day she ventured back to Winterhold (her guard dog in tow) and all but demanded that Sofie be accepted into the College as an apprentice mage. While, at first, the Breton mage she spoke to was less than accommodating (threatening to throw her out if Svala kept threatening her with bodily harm) she eventually came around when a hefty purse of Septims entered the picture. One thing she was not in short supply of was gold these days, as it were.
Once she had returned to Windhelm, Calder greeted her with several pieces of mail. There was a letter from Delphine, which she threw in the fire unopened. There was a letter from Karliah, if it could even be called such considering it only contained two words and the letter K: Got it. Still, Svala breathed a sigh of relief; at least she wouldn't have another Guild member's blood on her hands.
The last was a parcel. She tore it open, saw a flash of blue fabric, and instantly tossed it to the side. "Useless garment."
"Is that your dress for the feast?" Sofie asked eagerly, a spoonful of stew halfway to her mouth. "You should try it on!"
"I'm not a doll," she grumbled, choosing to ignore Calder unwrapping the package the rest of the way and removing the dress inside. "I'll wear it for the damn feast and then I'll sell the thing." Truthfully, she had never owned such a fine piece of clothing- the gown was a dark blue, embroidered with fine golden thread. Patterns of bears and flowers were woven in loops around the bodice and sleeves.
"You're no fun," Sofie pouted to her food. "At least let me do your hair before- you can't show up in a braid."
"Why not?" She argued, arching an eyebrow at the little mage. "What's wrong with how I usually wear my hair?"
"Well nothing when you're slashing people in half," Sofie answered her matter of factly. "But this is a feast. You need to put a little...oomph in." She looked beseechingly at Calder who only shrugged, trying to hide himself in the kitchen. "I can help you, though! Arivanya sometimes lets me do the horses manes at the stables so I know what to do."
"Now you're comparing me to a horse?" Svala smirked at her. "Well...only if I'm in good hands. If not, braid it is."
Sofie stuck her tongue out at her and she laughed, ruffling the girl's hair in the way that made her grouse and lurch away. She was about to retaliate when she heard it- a low thumping, a rumbling coming from the distance. A dragon?
"Do you hear that?" Svala asked Calder and Sofie in a near whisper.
"Aye," Calder replied. Sofie merely nodded, her eyes wide.
"Get in your alchemy lab. Don't come out until I come back." she demanded to Sofie, grabbing her sword before rushing out the door.
The scene outside was nothing like she expected.
The rumbling came not from a dragon's call, it seemed, but the pounding of hundreds of shields. She ran to the center of the city, finding most of its occupants already crowded around the gates. The anxiety and anticipation was so ripe in the air it covered her like a blanket.
When the doors finally opened, the crowd erupted. Cheers, sobbing, chanting, it was impossible to tell. There was so much activity happening around her that it caused her head to swim.
Mothers and wives were calling out the names of men, craning their necks trying to see over the mass of people. Some of the elves had come from the Gray Quarter and were shouting their dissent, causing the guards to take notice and leading to a near riot. The cheering and thumping only grew louder as the scene escalated around her.
She was reminded of her childhood, when she had slipped on some wet earth near the river bank and had fallen in. The rushing water had buffeted her against rocks, and she would've drowned had her father not heard her screams and yanked her to safety.
Svala wondered who would come to her rescue now, should she scream.
And then she looked up and he was there. Ulfric.
Svala had long realized that the Ulfric she saw and the new High King of Skyrim were vastly different men. Still, there was something jarring about seeing him on horseback, looking so imposing and commanding as he rode through his own city. He wasn't even smiling, just staring ahead to something she couldn't see, his jaw tight and his brow furrowed. She pushed through the crowd, trying to stay abreast of the current of bodies.
She wasn't alone; countless women were all but throwing themselves at his horse, their hands reached out as far as they could go, trying to touch their king. "I'll be your queen, my king!" One called. "I'll bear you many sons!" Cried another. Some dark, foreign emotion settled low in her gut like a stone. Had he even seen her? It didn't appear so- Ulfric just smiled politely and tightly, his gaze straight ahead.
She wanted to call to him, to wave, to do something to get him to just notice her. It was strange to her, this compulsive need for his attention. She had never wanted it this badly before...but perhaps that was because it had always been freely provided before.
Stupid. She was being stupid.
Until, that was, she saw who was riding behind him.
Elisif was perched on a cream colored mare, smiling thinly and waving to the crowd. However, when she turned to face Svala's direction, she all but gasped at her face; one of Elisif's eyes had been blackened and her lip was swollen and split. Even with her politician's smile on her face, she seemed on the verge of tears. Humiliation rolled off her in waves. To make matters worse, the crowd had turned against her, shouting out insults and throwing rotten food at her as she rode. Svala didn't particularly care for the woman, but her heart still lurched for her; the woman had lost her husband and the war. It was enough to break anyone.
She turned on her heel and all but sprinted back to Hjerim. She had seen enough.