The hall stretched out before her was long and dark, illuminated only by the dull torches hanging up on the walls. Thorunn carried a candle even so as she passed through the ominous length of the corridor. At the end was a simple wooden door with intricate Nordic designs carved into the trim and a gold knob. Upon reaching it, Thorunn gripped it and turned, opening the door and revealing a large circular room with painted glass windows, nine shrines, and a woman in hooded robes sitting on a bench to the far left reading a book.
Thorunn looked over the shrines, eyes lingering on the ninth. Its stone model was in the shape of the hilt of a sword and at its base were flowers ranging from blue to red, gold coin pieces, jewelry, and even a lock of golden blond hair. A couple months ago, this shrine was not here, outlawed by Skyrim's temporary religious persecutors now exiled by the man currently sitting on the throne. The Empire had been the puppet and the Thalmor the puppeteer, and eventually, the elves would return for a second attempt at taking Skyrim. But for now, this shrine to the hero-god of man Talos would remain.
The priest sitting on the bench didn't look up or acknowledge Thorunn's presence as she approached the shrine. Thorunn recognized the Nordic woman as Freir. It'd been far too long since she'd come to pray; to the Nine, anyway. It wasn't that she revered the wolf in her. She only prayed to Hircine that he would not see her lose control of that wolf.
She sat the candle down in a sconce near the shrines and knelt, one elbow resting on her knee and the other fist on her heart as if she were kneeling before a king. Her brown fur cloak hung behind her, cascading over the tiled floor. She bowed her head and closed her eyes.
Hear me, Talos, she chanted quietly beneath her breath. Here on this place we mark our tribute. Here on this place we honor the Gods. Here on this place we sacrifice.
Opening her eyes, she pulled a Dwarven dagger from its sheath on her belt and held her hand out over the base of Talos's shrine, then closed her other hand around the dagger and slid it along its blade. Accustomed to the feeling of blade blemishing skin, she did not react to the painful sensation following the blood that trickled down the wound in her palm. A couple drops of warm, red life essence pooled at the base of the shrine.
She could have offered anything. A jewel, a necklace, a sword, a coin, even a dragon's egg. But none of those things held as much value to Thorunn as her own blood. Battle was her life's mistress, and the most important thing to any person who honed these battles was their own blood. And Thorunn would gladly spill every last drop for the almighty Talos.
She sheathed her dagger and withdrew her still-bleeding hand. I ask for answers, she said within the confines of her mind. Tell me what the future holds for my sword. Tell me where next it will land. What will it take from me?
"Dragonborn," an unfamiliar voice said. Clenching her jaw and bitterly opening her eyes, Thorunn looked over her shoulder, spotting a small man holding a letter out to her. "Letter for you." he said.
Thorunn snatched the letter from him. "Leave." she ordered, and without a second's hesitation, the courier took off, leaving Thorunn to her own hostile devices. She looked down at the roll of parchment in her hand, uninterested until she caught sight of the seal. It was black with a two-headed dragon. This letter could only be from the Greybeards, no doubt returning answers for the letter she sent out weeks ago regarding the dragon's egg.
Dovahkiin, the letter read. A mother bear cannot give you answers regarding human children. Tiid amvit los ved.
Thorunn's brows furrowed. That's it? After, what, four weeks, this is all she gets? For the time being, she'd followed Aela's advice and put the egg in a fire. It had not burned and, according to the court wizard, it was still very much alive. As for what would happen when it hatched- provided it ever would -that was where Thorunn needed answers.
Instead, she was given a riddle and a couple choice words in Dovah. Thank you, Arngeir, she thought scathingly. She crumpled the letter and turned back to the shrine of Talos as if it could give her the answers she desperately needed. Well? she pressed to a God that was silent in His listening. What does my sword pierce?
She stared at the shrine for several moments longer, knowing nothing would happen even if she sat there until her platinum blonde hair began graying. But as she stood to take her leave, the corner of her eye caught the sunlight beaming off of a lock of golden hair.