A/N: Consistent chapter length? What is consistent chapter length?
Also, I apologize to any Alec fans out there. As you can see… I'm not much of a fan.
The "Hist-song" is the… hmm, claim? motto? from the band Heilung. The actual performance I imagine sounds something like the Tribal drums: watch?v=uZdtsN-cJ4g
"~Believe, believe, the Dragonborn comes!"
Bishop rolled his eyes and concentrated even harder on his mead. His Ladyship so did not need the ego boost.
"Oh, dammit, I hate that song," the woman in question muttered and set down her own drink.
Or maybe she did?
"What, you don't like to listen to people singing about your famous comings and goings?" He smirked and leaned back. "I thought you'd love to hear people celebrating your arrival, my oh so noble Ladyship."
She scoffed. "Yeah, right. Except this Dragonborn is not, in fact, coming, and hasn't in a while." Bishop accidentally inhaled a bit of his mead. Dammit, he needed to remember not to drink while they discussed things. Lately, more of his drink ended up on his table or armour than in his mouth. It was a bloody disgrace.
She blithely continued, "Besides. Every time some damned bard sings it, I get attacked by some random asshole or outright Thalmor Death-Squad as soon as I step outside the city gates."
He leered at her. "I could help you with that."
"You're offering to face the Thalmor for me, my noble ranger? Perhaps I underestimated your commitment to me..." she trailed off teasingly, but her tone revealed she knew perfectly well what he meant.
"I meant with the first part, but hey, if it helps me achieve it, I will gladly face the second one for you."
She cleared her throat. Bishop would bet his last pair of trousers that she was blushing under that damned iron mask.
She swiftly changed the topic back to its original track. "It's like the bards are announcing my exact location. Seriously. It's more trouble than it's worth. I better go stop that bard before he really gets into it, and we'll have to run to the Sea of Ghosts to get rid of the damned elves or assassins."
Bishop opened his mouth to continue flirting and suggest that he'd gladly run away with her, but she hurried away before he could. He shrugged his shoulders. There will always be time for flirting later. Not like she was about to leave him or be stolen by someone else, right?
"Hello, sir, can you please-"
"Forgive me, my lady, have I the honour to speak with the Dragonborn?"
His Ladyship paused for a moment, probably not happy at being both recognized and interrupted. Then she sighed, "Well, yes, but-"
"By the Divines! It is delightful to be standing in your presence," the bard interrupted her again. And then he did something even worse. He announced her. "Today, we witness a living legend among us, none other than the Dragonborn herself!"
Bishop heard her dismayed groan all the way from where he stood near the stairs.
The bard opened his mouth again, but this time, she was ready. "This living legend would like to keep her arrival private, so if you don't mind?"
The ranger had never heard such sheer threat infused into a 'polite' request. Honestly, he was impressed.
The man in the ridiculous outfit seemed briefly startled, but then gave her what was probably meant as a consoling smile. In Bishop's opinion, it turned out condescending instead. "Certainly, certainly. If I could just have one moment of your fine company, my lady."
And then he continued as if she didn't look one step away from chopping his head off. But then, Bishop imagined it must be hard for some people to interpret her moods through the mask. They did not have his finely honed instincts. In his world, to interpret a predator or any large animal wrong meant to risk death. He could see the tension in her shoulders, the stiff way she held herself and knew she would very much like to conjure a blade and 'get to work'. But this fop? Nah. He was as blind to her mood as a five-year-old mole-rat.
"Please allow me to introduce myself. My name is Alec."
"Charmed, I'm sure." The sarcasm was so thick in the air that even some of the bystanders felt it and started stepping from foot to foot. But the bard continued on as if he didn't hear it. "I have spent so much of my time studying your adventures. From the terrors at Helgen to your endless eradication of the Dragon menace."
Her posture changed. Her shoulders hunched and she turned her face slightly away from the bard as if she was in pain. 'Good job, idiot. Reminding her of probably the worst and scariest moments of her life,' Bishop thought to himself.
"You are our hero. Your strength and humility brings hope to every-"
"Please! That's quite enough."
There was surprising laughter coming from the side of the room. "You do realize you just proved his point about humility, right, child?"
"Dravynea! I'm sorry, I didn't see you. What are you doing in Windhelm?"
The Dunmeri woman smiled from under her hood and lifted her drink in greeting. "Just enjoying my night off in the 'big city', my friend. I've heard about this bard and wanted to see him for myself. There's supposed to be some sort of performance-"
"Exactly!" The bard jumped in, obviously no longer content with being ignored by his 'hero'. "Please, you must come to the special performance I'm arranging here in Windhelm. I would be delighted for you to be my guest. Both of you, of course," he said, nodding to the Dunmer when he saw that the Dragonborn did not appear convinced.
Dravynea shrugged her shoulders with a grin. "Fine by me."
Bishop sighed for he knew, he just knew, what the answer was going to be.
"I'll be there."
"Seriously, Ladyship, you need to stop being so bloody nice to everyone," Bishop commented angrily as he sipped his warm mead and watched the Dragonborn shudder at being called the poet's 'muse'.
He was angrier still at the damned kiss that fop placed on her hand as they parted. Wishing to take her hand and replace the claim that prick left there with his own.
"But I like Dravynea..." she sulked and picked at her own drink.
"Enough to suffer an entire evening of caterwauling in 'your honour' for her?" 'Please let her take the bait and cancel those plans,' he thought.
Bishop wasn't looking forward to a night of having to sit there and watch his... his... the Dragonborn being seduced in front of the entire damned Windhelm by some ridiculous singer.
"...Maybe I can use it."
"Use what?" He turned to look at his Ladyship. He hoped she wasn't suggesting to actually spend time with the damned singer.
"Well, if even people from Kynesgrove are coming here tonight to hear this performance, there's going to be a lot of people, right?" she reasoned.
"Yeah, but from your dislike of crowds, I thought that would be more of a deterrent, right, Ladyship?"
Hildur took a breath to answer, then paused. Her masked face turned towards him quizzically, and Bishop realized that they have never discussed anything like that before. He'd just... noticed, that she tended to draw more into herself whenever surrounded by more than five strangers. That she only sang and laughed and swam and danced when alone - or in his company.
"...Right." She cleared her throat, mask still turned slightly towards him as if she was cautiously sizing him up. "Still. There would be a lot of people. That means probably also a bar or a buffet or something. People will eat, discuss the performance, and drink-"
Bishop groaned. "Oh, come on! Don't tell me this is about the wine! Are you seriously going to try and sell your wine to half of Eastmarch when it doesn't even exist yet?"
She chuckled. "Maaaybe?"
"I'm going to regret this, aren't I?" He just sighed and palmed his face.
But she wouldn't budge. "Come on, ranger. I'm sure it won't be that bad!"
"Good evening, Windhelm! May I thank you all for venturing out on this cold, wintry night to witness the One, the Great, Alec, the Prince of Song!"
"Humble, much?" Bishop growled. This evening did not look promising.
"Hush, darling, just remember - we're not here for him."
"I'm trying to..." he grumbled but settled down to what promised to be an extremely long and annoying night.
The bard on stage continued, "I wish to dedicate tonight's performance to someone very special to me."
"Oh, no." Hildur fidgeted in her seat and started quietly muttering, "Please don't mention me, please don't mention me, just don't mention me..."
The bard lay a hand on his heart and, yes, stared right at the suddenly very, very reluctant woman next to him. In contrast, Bishop was just starting to enjoy himself. "She is the most inspiring, beautiful woman I have ever met-"
"You don't even know my face, asshole," she hissed quietly next to him and hunched her shoulders. Bishop had to fight the urge to snort.
"-and I have a song in my heart I must sing to her," the man on the podium finished with a flourish and a theatrical bow in the Dragonborn's direction.
And that's when the music started.
"~Let me dream of you and me~"
Hildur whimpered like a wounded animal. Bishop lost the fight and snorted. Hard.
But she didn't reprimand him. Oh no.
Her hand shot out and grabbed hold of his thigh. "Bishop? I... might have made a terrible mistake."
"You wanted to be here, Princess," he grinned but still covered her hand with his own, enjoying their close contact very much. "Just think of all the people who can learn about your wine here."
She looked down at where her hand clutched at his leg and tried to withdraw it. Bishop didn't let her. After a brief but intense struggle, they settled with their joined hands resting on the arm of his chair. He caressed the spot the man-child on the podium profaned with his lips, replacing the memory of him with his own touch.
"~And wipe away the crying tears~"
"Accurate," Bishop muttered to her. "I'm definitely about to cry."
Now it was her turn to snort.
"~Only yoooou can save me, only yooooou~"
"This sounds like a good idea for a drinking game." Bishop pulled her closer to him by her hand and whispered to her ear under the hood. "Drink a shot every time he says 'Only you'."
She turned towards him and whispered back, "No way, we'd end up drunk before the second chorus ended."
"That's sort of the point, sweetheart," he grinned in the darkness.
"You're not getting drunk tonight, ranger-danger, unless it's on the jazbay wine I sacrificed so much for."
"Your wine doesn't exist yet, Ladyship."
"That's sort of the point, Bishop," she returned, tongue in cheek. "Now let us both suffer in silence."
"Spoilsport," he whispered, so close that his lips touched the hood.
Despite the loud music and the crowd behind them, he still heard the sharp intake of her breath and grinned in satisfaction.
"~Let me love you, let me hold you, I will never let you goooo~"
"Sorry, man, you're not my type."
"Oh? Do tell, who is your type, Ladyship?"
She stayed suspiciously silent, but her hand clutched his a little harder.
"~Only yoooou can save me, only yooooou~"
"Careful there, Ladyship. If you sink any lower in that chair, you're going to fall on the floor and if you pull me down, I'll fall right on top of you."
She straightened reluctantly. But she never let go of his hand. He smiled.
And then the song was finally over.
The bard bowed with a flourish to - even Bishop had to admit - thunderous applause. He started down the stairs, ostensibly to greet the adoring crowds, but the way he was always turned slightly towards the Dragonborn convinced Bishop that he was aiming for them.
Hildur obviously thought the same and did not want to greet him any more than he did. They both made a strategic retreat towards the buffet table, where Hildur noticed her Dunmer friend slowly eating a Honey Nut Treat.
"Great performance, was it not?" the Dunmer asked.
"Eh. Sure. Did you like it, Dravynea?"
The woman chuckled. "It was nice enough. Made me remember the old courtship songs I've heard as a young elf in Vivec City. A bit too bold, perhaps, but that's Nords for you. But I have to admit, I am surprised. I would have thought you'd appreciate the love confession more, my friend."
"But it wasn't a confession! Just... just a song, right? I mean, I don't even know the man!"
"Sure sounded like a confession to me," the mage shrugged her shoulders.
"...Does everyone here think that?"
The looks on both Dravynea and Bishop's face was answer enough.
"Damn."
The woman laughed. "Don't worry. Not even Nords would expect you to take it seriously or to respond in kind."
"I should hope not," she muttered crossly, all too aware that her plans to lay low and not attract attention were now well and truly shot. "Not even my wine is worth this kind of trouble."
'Aaand here we go,' Bishop thought, almost admiring her tenacity.
"Wine?"
"Yeah, I've partnered up with Quintus to create a new type of Jazybay Wine. It should be ideal for mages, strengthen their magicka, and taste good too!"
"Huh, that does sound interesting. It would be nice to have a drink down in the mines, especially if it helped me with my actual job." She laughed. "It would probably be the first time drinking on the job was encouraged! I just hope it will taste good while chilled - the mines can get pretty hot, you know."
"Oh! That reminds me," she reached into the satchel at her hip and carefully pulled out a well-sealed little package. "Here, for you, some more Frost Salts."
"You are the sweetest child ever, Dragonborn," the mage smiled at her. "Here I thought I will have to spend the night in Windhelm of all places just to check and buy some at the White Phial in the morning. I'm so glad I can go straight home instead. But you do know I already taught you all I know about Alteration, right?"
Hildur's voice turned warm, "Don't you worry yourself over that. I'm always glad to help an old friend."
The mage smiled fondly at her again. Then she cleaned her hands of the sweets and said. "Well, it was a nice evening, and I thank you for the opportunity to attend the performance, but I must be going if I'm to make it back to Kynesgrove before midnight. I will talk to Iddra about your wine, see if we can make it part of the standard offer at Braidwood Inn. Be well, friend, and do come visit us sometimes."
"Gladly," Hildur nodded and they watched the woman leave the hall.
Then Bishop saw something far more concerning out of the corner of his eye. "The bard is aiming towards us, Ladyship. Unless you wish him to fawn over you some more, I suggest we leave. Now."
She turned slightly to see what he was looking at and noticed Alec indeed 'subtly' making his way towards them.
"You know what? I just realized I don't give a damn about politeness. You're right, Bish, let's go."
Before he could get over the shock that the overly-polite-to-strangers Dragonborn agreed with him, or his new nickname, she grabbed his hand and pulled him with her towards the exit.
Bishop grinned, squeezed her hand in his and gladly followed her out.
They both took a deep breath of the crisp night air as soon as they were out of that place.
"Well, that could have gone better."
"Speak for yourself, Ladyship, I happened to enjoy myself. Mostly at your expense, but it was enjoyable nonetheless."
She snorted. "Funny. But... since I didn't get to enjoy myself very much..."
"Hmm, we could go back to the Inn, to the nice and cosy bed you paid for, we could both enjoy listening to you sing for me," he pulled her closer to himself by the waist. "Ooor~ we could just abandon the city altogether. Go into the wilderness. Just you and me. Make love under the stars..."
To his surprise, she chuckled, "Tempting, my ranger, very tempting."
"Really?" He couldn't help the startled exclamation.
"But I had a different type of entertainment in mind."
Bishop knew he shouldn't feel surprised or disappointed, but he still was. "It's a bit too late in the day to go searching for bandits to chop into pieces, don't you think?"
She laughed. "Not that kind of entertainment either, Bishop. I meant we could go to the Docks. The Argonians will have some food prepared and trust me, their fare is much better than what you'll get at Candleheart."
"You have friends at the Argonian Assemblage, too? Heh, you never cease to surprise me, Ladyship. From Jarls, through mages, right down to the dock workers."
"Yeah, well... To be honest, I prefer the dock workers to the Jarls. They're more honest."
He scoffed. "I can believe that. But isn't it a bit too late tonight for... Oh, wait. Don't tell me. You get a special invitation and can just waltz in to their homes whenever you feel like it."
"Something like that," she answered cheekily. "Come on, it will be fun!"
Not even an hour later, Bishop had to admit that it was fun.
"I don't think I've ever tasted anything like this before," he admitted as he ate another spoonful of the soup-stew-goulash thing, fed a couple bites of fish to Karnwyr and watched the Argonians hurry to and fro, carrying tools, boxes, barrels and even musical instruments.
"Fish chowder, special Argonian edition, only to be found in Windhelm!" Hildur exclaimed as she swung her legs to and fro, sitting atop a fish-barrel.
The Argonians had welcomed Hildur as one of their own the moment she arrived, then led them both to the back of the Assemblage, through a semi-hidden door into a stone courtyard Bishop had never seen before. He doubted many humans have.
The Argonian man leaning against the wall next to them chuckled. "And you're likely the only humans who ever got to taste it. Enjoy it while you can. You can only ever find it here with us."
"Aww, come on, Scouts. One day I'll get you to tell me your secret recipe, you'll see!"
"Hah! Dear Hildur, even if you got the recipe, it will never taste that good if you made it. For you see, it needs to be made from the spices stolen right from Torbjorn Shatter-Shields fat fists."
"So what you're saying is..."
"The secret ingredient, Dragonborn, is petty revenge."
Hildur laughed in delight. Even Bishop didn't bother to hide a smile. These were his kind of people.
The second Argonian by the pot just shook her head with a smile and handed them a second bowl with some more bread. "Shahvee thinks her friend should be more cautious. She would not wish to see her nest-brother hurt if the Nords ever find out."
Scouts-Many-Marches only rolled his eyes at her. "Keep your scales on, Shahvee. I'm the very soul of cautiousness."
"I certainly hope so."
Scouts grinned. "But we've chatted long enough. You see, we have a surprise for you."
"Oh? What is it?"
"A performance better and greater than your proper Nording bard could give you! Prepare to be dazzled, my friend."
That gave them both a pause. "How do you know about that? I thought Argonians weren't... I haven't seen any of your people in the performance hall."
Scouts just grinned, "We have our ways."
"But... Wait! Does that mean-? Did everyone see that performance?!"
The Argonian's grin just got wider, displaying all his sharp teeth, "Pretty much. Yeah. Or they at least heard about it."
Hildur groaned and bowed her head dangerously close to her Fish Chowder.
"Careful there, Princess," Bishop laughed. "That bard isn't worth getting a face full of fish."
The Dragonborn ignored him. "I'll never live this down. Please tell me you have something to distract me from my misery."
Both Argonians laughed now, but it was the woman who responded. "Yes, Scouts was nice enough to ask a couple friends here tonight, to come and sing for us the songs of our people. Some of them have even learned from the Tree-Minders of Blackmarsh, a great honour."
They chatted and ate for a while. As time went on, Bishop noticed how the Argonians stacked several barrels and crates together and covered it with wooden planks, creating an impromptu podium.
And then they saw them. Huge, hulking brutes of lizard-men with tails fully as thick as Bishop's chest, dressed in a strange combination of cloth wrap and armour to protect said tails. They climbed onto the podium, and the whole square fell silent, waiting.
The sound of powerful drums reverberated in every corner of the frozen Nordic square, bringing with it the sense of warmth and power. If Bishop closed his eyes, he could almost see gigantic trees gushing with life and sap. The sound of drums was quickly joined with another, this one harder to define. it took him a while, but Bishop eventually realized it came directly from the Argonians' mouths - a combination of their own guttural voices and some strange metal instruments attached right to their mouths.
Then one of them started to 'sing'. It was unlike anything he had ever heard. A combination of shouting, poetry and monotonous chanting that evoked both feelings of awe, mystery and yet sounded like the most natural sound in the world.
"~Remember, that we all are brothers
All people, beasts, trees and stone and wind
We all descend from the one great being
That was always there
Before people lived and named it
Before the first seed sprouted
It was always there"
The drums raised in tempo. It became faster and faster, the music louder and louder as more joined in the rhythm until they felt like they were part of one giant being, playing the sounds through its children, all joined as one.
When the song ended, none dared to interrupt the sudden silence. They all simply breathed and felt the aftershocks of the power stirred in the air. And waited.
The leader on the stage started beating out a softer rhythm, others slowly joining him.
This song had no words or indeed much of a melody. It was a song for action, for dancing, working, running around and simply living. And that's what the Argonians around them did.
The activity around them slowly resumed, people carrying barrels, cargo, children running underfoot, some Argonians handing out bowls of Fish Chowder or other foods, several dancers twirling around torches lit with fire in a complex dance to the astonishment of onlookers.
Bishop didn't want to admit it, but he was impressed. He had never seen anything like that before and looking at the still frozen woman next to him, the Dragonborn hadn't either.
They finished their food in silence, enjoying the ambience of the impromptu festival. The night had now fallen, making the fire-dancers stand out even more against the darkness.
The Dragonborn paid for the food - overpaid, really, as Bishop noticed - and refused to take her coin back, thanking their hosts for the evening.
"Honestly, it was amazing, friends," she shook her head with a smile in her voice. "You managed to turn our evening around. I can't remember the last time I enjoyed a performance so much. I am grateful I was allowed to witness it."
"It was our pleasure, Dragonborn," Shahvee commented, while Scouts-Many-Marches vigorously nodded his head. "You have given us hope, returned what was stolen from us and forced our employers to pay us fair wages. In doing so, you saved many a young life in the Docks."
Scouts smiled and said his goodbyes as well, "Our is to smile at your passing, friend. Don't forget - you'll always be welcome here."
The journey back to Candleheart Hall was spent in companionable silence. Not even the news there the innkeeper sold the last free room before Bishop could buy it for himself was enough to spoil their mood.
It was so peaceful that he didn't even leer or crack any inappropriate jokes about sleeping together. They simply prepared themselves for the night and climbed under the furs.
After all, it was not the first night they spent in each other's arms, even if they were drunk, that time at Valtheim Towers.
Bishop lay there and listened to the woman in his arms breathe.
It was strange. They have only met less than a week ago, but he felt as if he had known her for a lot longer than that. How quickly things could change - a week ago he stood there, supporting a wall at the Sleeping Giant Inn and bitterly regretted not having anyone to help him save the only being he cared about in the whole damn world. And now here he was - his faithful friend at his side and a soft, warm, caring woman in his arms.
Sure, she had her flaws, the utter confidence bordering on arrogance in her power being one, and more masks around strangers than he could count another. But with some slight shock, he realized that he actually trusted her - to have his back and not betray him in a fight or for a fat coin purse, but more than that, he knew he could trust her not to hurt him.
Not intentionally, anyway.
He hugged her tighter and tried not to imagine the day when someone will come around; someone better, smarter, richer, kinder, who will steal her away from him and love her with all his heart.
But he won't allow the future to interrupt his present. For now, his Dragonborn, Hildur, lay in his arms, and he planned to make the most of it.
He will take her masks off, one by one, and enjoy the presence of the laughing, smiling woman in his company.
But he still couldn't help himself...
"~Only yoooooou," he mock-sung right in her ear.
"Shut up," she growled and elbowed a chortling Bishop in the ribs.