A/N: So this chapter marks the official beginning of act two. Not sure how long act two will be, but its central focus will be made clear within this chapter and the next. I have also decided to anticipate a sequel to this novel, but nothing is set in stone. Should I decide to go through with it, though, the title will be The World is Your Throne.
Please please leave reviews! Critique is welcome and praise is immensely appreciated. I like to know I have an audience for the stories I tell and leaving comments- however short, however mediocre -helps a lot for encouragement and confidence.
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The next day, several of the Jarls left, taking their flags and entourages with them. They left behind gifts for Ulfric and the Dragonborn, ranging from swords to family heirlooms to priceless jewels and finery. "Dragon Queen," was how they addressed Thorunn. She wasn't sure how to feel about that, but the gifts were appreciated.
Solitude's vibrancy slowly died down as the week drew on. Rayya, Thorunn's selected housecarl, returned on the third day and took up the position at Thorunn's side as her personal bodyguard. She didn't particularly like having someone follow her around everywhere she went, but whatever it took to 'help her beloved sleep better at night'.
Thorunn continued making trips down to the dungeons. Frequently, she brought fresh food and a shaving knife or clean rags with her. These trips soon turned from a couple times a week to every night, and Altair's execution was rapidly approaching its deliverance. Thorunn was running out of time to convince him to vouch for his life, but they did not always speak of the Daedra and the lines they drew; often, they'd talk of their childhoods or partake in friendly debates on mediocre topics.
Every time she came down to him, the first thing he asked about was the weather. "How was the sky today?" he'd ask, having not seen it since his imprisonment.
Thorunn would tell him without comment or question. Today, she answered, "It stormed. Snow doesn't fall on this side of the country, so to make up for the loss, it rains."
A genuine smile touched his lips. Thorunn noticed he had dimples. "I wish I could see it," he said softly.
"You could, if you'd denounce this foolishness," she replied. She sat down on the ground, placing the candle in between them. From outside the cell, she could hear the quiet breathing of Rayya. Rayya had been just another addition to the background noise.
Altair was looking much better with her putting in word for him to be well taken care of, sporting only stubble and a healing bruise above his eyebrow. His blond curls had grown a couple inches, but the ruggedness only made him more handsome. "Ah, of course," he began, and Thorunn could tell he was about to say something passive aggressive. "Why didn't I think of that? All I have to do is tell a couple Gods to screw off and I'll be home bound."
She stared at him, not amused.
He sighed. "You make some good points," he said, much to Thorunn's surprise. She hadn't suspected her words ever reached his ears. "I will think on it, if you first tell me what you intend to do with my life if I choose it."
"You will remain in Solitude for a time. Ulfric's word, not mine. After that... you will most likely be required to return to Markarth with your father."
"And if I wish to remain in Solitude?"
She was taken aback. "Then... you may choose to do so, I suppose, though I do not know why you would choose to do such a thing."
"I will need a job. There are a few uses a king- or queen -has for an assassin." His smirk was suggestive, implying something Thorunn did not catch. "Besides, you will be in Solitude, will you not? I daresay you have been a... a friend to me in my time of need. I would not see our friendship end just so I can return to a father I despise."
Despite herself, she smiled. "I am sure you will be welcome here."
Suddenly, she felt something pricking at her insides. How long had it been since she last hunted? A couple weeks, at the least. She would need to feed the wolf soon if she wanted to avoid an incident. Expression darkening, she stood. "I must go."
"But why? You only just arrived."
"I will regale later, perhaps." Not leaving any room for argument, she exited the cell, hastily locking the door behind her. Rayya struggled to keep up as she pounded up the staircase. Her bones were adopting a familiar alarming ache, but there was something missing in the ache. She could not place it.
"Remain here," she ordered Rayya as she neared the exit of the Blue Palace. "Do not question it now or later."
Confused, the housecarl remained, while Thorunn rushed out of the palace. It was night, thankfully, which meant very few people were outside of their houses. The few that were were guards, who were accustomed to oddity and barely turned their head as Thorunn passed.
The guards at the gate were not as polite. "Your Grace, why might you leave the city so late?"
"I am not required to answer that. Open the gates, now." she ordered.
They reluctantly did so, and holding her skirts, Thorunn forked a right into the forest shrouding the frost-coated mountains. Something dawned on her as she ran: Why hadn't she transformed yet? Normally, she fed the wolf long before it became hungry, leaving no chances of an accidental transformation. But there were days when she couldn't predict the wolf's hunger. Whenever she did allow it to become rabid, she was always transformed within moments. There was no reason for her to still be in human form at this point.
Even more curious, the overwhelming desire to tear flesh with her teeth was present. Snarling, she whipped her head up to the sky. It was a full moon that night, which furthered her confusion. She came to an abrupt halt and willed herself to transform, growl escalating into a pained scream. Her bones jolted and she fell to her knees. Her vision was blurring, but she could see that her hands were still that of a human.
She breathed in, catching the scent of a nearby goat. She lost control, not knowing what form she was in as she leapt into a sprint, heading towards the smell of life. She found the creature at a pond and she neglected stealth as she ran at it, tackling the shrieking animal to the ground. Her teeth were the sharpened fangs of a wolf, she realized as she sunk them into the goat's neck and put it out of its misery. She tore at its flesh with talons and teeth, Thorunn watching in horror as the wolf in her controlled her movements.
Never had she been aware of what she was doing whenever she transformed. She knew the fault behind this was that she hadn't transformed.
Her head snapped to attention, blood coating and trickling down her chin, when she heard heavy wolfish intakes of breath. She immediately recognized the scent the moment she inhaled the air, identifying it as Vilkas. He was standing at the other end of the pond in all his werewolf glory, crouched low in the midst of shrubbery. His golden eyes were trained on her, confusion laced into them as he didn't know whether she was friend or foe. He whined apprehensively.
His wolf recognized her scent, she could tell, but it didn't understand why the form didn't match the smell. Thorunn tried to speak, but while she had possession of her body she had no possession of what she did with it. The wolf in her snarled and took off.
The hunger faded and with it her energy. She woke covered in blood and grime in the middle of the forest, her once-white colored dress now coated with so much dirt it was brown, its original color indistinguishable. Holes and tatters littered her skirts and she was missing both shoes and a sleeve.
None of these things mattered when she became aware of how much excruciating pain she was in.
Whimpering and wincing in pain, she tried to lift herself off the ground only to fall back heedlessly. She laid there until time was inconceivable, her stomach in particular shooting jolts of white-hot pain into the rest of her body. Eventually, she went numb and the forest went black.
She did not open her eyes again until the sound of horse hooves hitting the ground nursed by the voices of familiar men alerted her senses. "Sir, I don't think she's here," a nervous voice was saying. "Why would she come to the forest?"
"Enough, boy," another voice growled. This one she recognized instantly as Ulfric, but her eyelids were too heavy to open again. "And stop questioning me at once."
The hooves of the horses stopped, she heard. She could sense they were strikingly nearby and tried to lift her head again to no avail. "Stop. What is that? On the ground, just there." said Ulfric.
Someone with heavy footfalls began approaching. The voice of Galmar Stone-Fist was next to speak. "By the Nine, Ulfric, it's her!" he exclaimed. A clatter of movement, then more footfalls as Ulfric rushed over to her.
He lifted her into his arms. Had Thorunn been in any position to do so, she would have fought against him. She was not inclined to resist assistance while her spine felt like it might collapse at the first implication of a sketchy movement. Thorunn managed to clutch at Ulfric's tunic to get his attention. "Aela," she whispered, unable to make her voice do more than that.
He nodded once, and she allowed herself to slip back into darkness.
The third time she woke was easiest. The aching in her bones had subsided to a tolerable drumming and someone had cleaned the blood and grime from her skin and hair and changed her into a clean laced tunic and brown trousers. She opened her eyes to find herself in the court wizard's quarters. The first thing she smelled was the unmistakable stench of a vampire: Metallic blood masked by the illusion of seductive flowers and honey.
Sybille Stentor was one of the very few who knew of Thorunn's lycanthropy, and her knowledge of it was no conscious choice of Thorunn's. Being a vampire, she could sense Thorunn the same way Thorunn could sense her. There was no inherent hostility between the two supernatural, but vampires had a precise superiority complex that Thorunn had no respect for. Sybille in particular wasn't the most friendly of sorts by far, especially since the Stormcloaks took over.
When the vampire reentered the room carrying a tray of various potions and herbs, her piercingly orange-gold eyes widened then relaxed. "You're awake," she said, setting the tray on the end table beside the bed. "Would you like me to retrieve the king?" She said the word with distaste. Thorunn chose to ignore it.
"Yes," she said, surprised to find her voice usable. "And Aela too, if you can." If anyone knew about the peculiarity she experienced last night, it'd be Aela.
Sybille looked inconvenienced, but nodded obediently anyway. She left the room and did not return, leaving Thorunn to blissful silence up until Ulfric and Aela's arrival. Aela sighed in relief upon seeing her and Ulfric's shoulders visibly slackened.
"Harbinger," said Aela as Ulfric sat down on the edge of the bed and laid a hand atop Thorunn's. "Did something go wrong with the hunt last night?"
Thorunn couldn't help but laugh. "More than that," she stated. "I became the wolf in everything but physical form. Why?"
Aela looked down, pursing her lips thoughtfully. "I cannot say. There is only one possible explanation I know of, but it seems unlikely."
"Indulge me anyway."
She looked uncomfortable then, which only made Thorunn more eager for answers. Aela shuffled her feet, eyes darting to Ulfric and then back to the ground. "Have you... had an active sex life lately?"
Thorunn and Ulfric exchanged a look. She furrowed her brow, unsure of how that had anything to do with the matter at hand. "Yes, what of it?" she answered anyway.
"I could be very wrong, but it's plausible that you are with child, Harbinger."
Ulfric's hand tightened around hers and some of the color left his face, but Thorunn's reaction was quite calm. Something within her had already known, preventing the shock, but even so, it felt surreal. The only sense of motherhood she'd felt her entire life was when it came to the dragon's egg. It wasn't a very promising experience. She'd known since the moment she agreed to wed Ulfric, however, that she would someday need to bare him an heir. Whether this was the best time for it, she couldn't predict.
"With child?" said Ulfric, voice barely above a whisper.
Aela nodded, bracing herself for a storm that never came. "Do not take my word for it. You should see a midwife immediately for confirmation, Harbinger."
But Thorunn was barely hearing her. Her hand had found its way to her stomach. She needed no midwife and no confirmation but her own; there was a child within, she could sense it now that it was made clear. She didn't realize the faint smile on her lips until it dropped as she remembered the incident last night. "But what of the transformations? Will this become a monthly thing?"
"I am uncertain. The books I've read mention awareness of the excruciating pain, though they never say how it progresses as you come to term," Aela explained. "but it does say that the child will not be that of the wolf's blood. Your son or daughter will be a perfectly human babe."
Relief washed over her. The last thing she'd want for her child was the experience of the werewolf. She looked to Ulfric, searching his face for a reaction, but he was only rigid, staring at Aela with an unfocused look in his eye. "Ulfric," said Thorunn gently.
He looked to her at last. "I am a father," he said, though it came off as an inquire.
"You are."
He smiled softly as his hand moved from atop hers to her stomach. "A child borne of a king and the dragon's blood," he stated as though he were speaking to the life within her. "I do not know what that marks or means for the future, but whatever it may mean, this child will be our child first and the rest second." His eyes rose to Thorunn's. "With Talos as my witness, you are the love of my life, lokaal do dii laas, and there will be no higher honor than to father your children."
Her smile was birthed from pride. "And no higher honor I would give you."