Little swirls of orange and red danced elegantly around the large egg, ensuring the magnificent beast within's survival. The egg was just shy of a foot long, the scales that coated it harboring the same colors as the fire surrounding it. Thorunn thought of the egg's mother, how she had been an elder with a gold hide as well. Elder dragons were always the most protective and prideful, Thorunn had noticed throughout her years of dragon hunting. A frost dragon might fight for its prey, but it wouldn't linger if it sensed it was going to lose its life. The elder dragon mother at the peak of Freedom's Redoubt hadn't even taken flight for fear of leaving her offspring unattended.
That day felt like eons ago. She still had no answers for what would become of this egg. For all she knew, the court wizard could be wrong, and the dragon inside could have long since died. But that couldn't be right. Thorunn could sense the ferocious life dwelling within, waiting for the perfect moment to crack its protective shell and peek into the world. When would that moment come, she wondered as she sat before the hearth on her knees, staring into the foreboding flames shrouding the egg.
Something had changed in the egg since Thorunn and Ulfric's conception of a child. Something strange yet stronger was stirring within the egg, seemingly fueled by the life that laid in wait in Thorunn's womb. Does the dragon know? she pondered. Was it put into my hands by Talos Himself to protect my son or daughter? That part was unpredictable. They did not know what would come out of that egg, whether it be a scaleless, helpless newborn dragon or a miniature hellion determined to avenge its mother.
Oddly, Thorunn felt bad for leaving the egg behind a second time. She'd considered taking it with her, but the last thing she wanted was to add another responsibility on top of protecting her own stomach. She did not desire to leave the egg unprotected, so instead of gifting it with her presence, she slowly reached up and unclasped the Amulet of Mara resting around her neck. She hesitated, then gently laid the amulet down on the stone forefront of the hearth.
Mara was the Mother-Goddess of love and maternity. If any of the Divines could protect this egg with something not hostile, it would be Mara. More than that, She was the wife of Akatosh, chief deity of the Divines and the Dragon God of time. Ulfric had blessed Thorunn with this amulet as a way to solidify their engagement. Now that it was solidified, she supposed she could afford to use it as a ward for the dragon egg.
"Come to me, Mara," Thorunn chanted quietly, "for without you, I might forget the ways of our fathers, and preening by the light of latest fashion, my words might tremble like the thin reeds of novelty in the tempest of enthusiasms."
The gem at the center of the amulet's charm gleamed, a soft magical sound emitting from it. Mara was listening.
"Shroud this creature in your protective arms," requested Thorunn. "Guard it with love and see to it that no harm comes to pass. Motherhood is the most precious gift of all, and Your good grace has given it to me in more than one way. Shroud the life developing within me, as well, and ensure that this life lives long enough to see the world You have blessed." She paused, watching the designs on Mara's charm shift and gleam subtlety. Thorunn's eyes closed. "In You I live soberly and peacefully. I honor my parents, and preserve the peace and security of home and family."
When she opened her eyes, the shifting gleam had ceased, leaving behind a serene warmth spreading through Thorunn's core to the very edges of her being. The fire of the hearth shone brighter then, licking the very top of the egg instead of sticking to the bottom. Thorunn knew for certain that Mara's grace would be with the dragon's egg and her womb alike. Going to Markarth suddenly wasn't so nerve wracking.
The morning goat horns sounded from outside, an obnoxious harooooooooooooo. The markets were opening, what little of it remained after the attack, and the army was wolfing down their plain breakfast to ready themselves for a day of hard, meticulous training. Twenty of them would be leaving to join Thorunn on her journey to the Reach.
Steadily, she got to her feet and donned her brown cloak. A fox's furred skin lined the collar, its snout reaching her elbow and its tail swinging past her forearm. Beneath the cloak, she wore traveling leathers, trimmed with fur and accented with a number of buckles and satchels for storing various potions and poisons. Thorunn didn't deal in poisons, but she did pack several healing poultices. The leathers she wore was a gift from ex-Jarl Balgruuf the Greater, who had once been a man she called friend.
Like many things, those days were long past. Thorunn took one last savory glance at the elder dragon egg before taking her leave, hand gripping the hilt of her Dragonbone waraxe. The sword she had of the same make was still being repaired by Beirand, the city blacksmith, along with her shield, so she'd had to make due with a tweaked Dwarven shield instead. Fitting, considering where she was headed.
When she walked into the throne room, her main party was eating breakfast while they waited for her. This included Rayya, Altair, Thongvor Silver-Blood, and Yngvar the Singer. Where he got his name from, Thorunn would love to know. She hoped he'd live long enough to give her the opportunity to ask.
Ulfric was at the head of the long table, some of his color having returned to his naturally fair skin. He'd neglected his finery, wearing only a tunic and trousers, and the braids in his hair were sloppy and untidy like he'd slept on them. He looked exhausted, but healthy enough. An affectionate smile on her lips, Thorunn approached him from behind and leaned down to kiss his temple before straightening back up to redo the braids in his hair.
"Good morning, love," he greeted, not turning his head so that he wouldn't disturb her deft fingers working at his hair. "A carriage is waiting for you whenever you're ready to depart. Your stallion has been armored and groomed, as well."
"Good," Thorunn approved, tying off one of the braids then moving to the next. "Are the three soldiers I requested tagging along?"
They could always use some variety in their main squadron. Thorunn, Rayya, and Thongvor would cover the sword-and-shield aspect, serving as the guardians and the cavalry. Yngvar the Singer would be the berserker, heaving his massive two-handed greatsword, and with Vunthar's muscle added to it, plus Altair and Kemaan's duel wielding and Isha's ranged attacks with her bow, they'd be unstoppable.
"Yes. Your Altmer girl is going too. Without you to protect her, this city is not a good place for her." Ulfric may have had no strong feelings for the elves, but he didn't actively try to persecute them either. In his city of Windhelm, he'd put the Dark Elves in the Gray Quarter and the Argonians in the port only to stop their inane quarreling; the Accession War's tensions had indeed carried over into Skyrim. Or so, that was what Thorunn was led to believe.
"I'd have it no other way," affirmed Thorunn.
As if on queue, Eriswe herself walked into the room carrying a tray of sweet rolls, frosted bread, and steaming hot tea. Her white hair was disheveled from sleep and dark bags hung under her slanted eyes from the lack thereof, but the smile on her face when she saw Thorunn was as genuine as ever. Thorunn nodded towards the table and the elf sat the tray down on it for the attendants to eat as they pleased, then she stepped back to mind her own business. Thongvor held a pretentious scowl on his face, refusing to touch the food the elf had delivered, and Thorunn was reminded of why Ulfric didn't want her in the city without active protection.
Thorunn finished with Ulfric's hair then claimed the seat to his left, with Galmar Stone-Fist across from her and Thongvor Silver-Blood at her side. Galmar was displeased about being forbidden from going to the Reach, so he spent a good deal of the breakfast brooding and grumbling. He'd sulk now, but in the end, Ulfric would be kept safe, so Thorunn wasn't sweating it. She ate the cabbage stew before her while the rest of her people bantered. They were quieter than usual with the shadow of war looming over their shoulders.
Breakfast came to a conclusion and it was time to get on the road. Ulfric decided to see them off, so he walked alongside their party on the trip to the gates. Civilians called out at him and he rebuffed them with a patient, kingly hand. "My king! To you I swear my loyalty!" one woman cried out, to which Ulfric smiled and waved his thanks. "You'll protect us, won't you, Majesty? You protected us from the Empire. You can protect us from anything, my pa tells me so." a little girl said to him, approaching him boldly. Ulfric smiled reassuringly and told her, "That's right, young one. You and yours will always know safety under my hand." He was bluffing, Thorunn knew, as no wise king truly believed he had the power to wave off any and all trouble. But no wise king would openly admit that to a ten year old girl, either.
Others stared in awe as they passed. Many uttered an oath, whispering to the wind, "Hail King Ulfric," "Hail Talos," "Hail the Stormcloaks." Something especially peculiar was that they were starting to revere Thorunn, as well. "Hail the Dragonborn," they said. "Hail to the High Queen." She supposed her few weeks of sole ruling had worn on the people. She reacted passively, unsure how to feel about it, but Ulfric laid a cool hand on the small of her back as they walked to ground her. The city was eerily quiet save for the people's uttering and the distant clash of sword-on-sword as the soldiers trained.
As they neared the gates, Thorunn saw her unit waiting for her. Isha, Kemaan, and Vunthar were among them, standing at the forefront with their respective weapons. Isha was an elf of brown- brown skin, brunette hair, doe eyes, as was typical of the Wood Elf people. Kemaan was much the same, only darker; his hair was cropped and jet black, his curls spiraling. Vunthar was the complete opposite with fair skin, short white hair hidden beneath a hide helmet that framed his face, hazel eyes and a cleanly shaven face. His old age showed in the wrinkles wrought in his face and the slight hunch to his back, but his glare was that of a tempered young man. Thorunn's eyes fell to his expensive leather boots and she smirked, remembering his reason for joining the army. She bet he slept in them.
Ulfric sighed wearily as they halted, turning to face his betrothed. "And now our time ends again," he said sullenly, brushing a strand of hair away from her face. "Come back to me, Stormblade, and on your return I promise you we will not delay our wedding a single day longer." His eyes fell to her stomach and he knelt to be eye-level with it. Thorunn found the sight of him on his knees to be oddly alluring and her smirk grew. "As for you, little one, do not trouble your mother more than she deserves for that smirk on her lips." His eyes, amused, briefly rose to Thorunn's before drifting back to her stomach. She chuckled softly. "You must come back to me as well." He planted a tender kiss on her belly, then rose to plant a kiss of the same make on her lips.
"Go, then," he said as they broke apart. His voice was louder now, meant to be heard by more than just the armored woman in front of him. "May Talos guide you in the coming battle." This time, he turned to make sure his words were heard by all.
The soldiers surrounding them cheered and banged the hilts of their swords on their shields, invigorated by the presence of the man they fought for in the first place. From beside Thorunn, Eriswe's shoulders trembled slightly and her golden eyes were wide with apprehensive fear. Thorunn understood why she was afraid. That girl had been with an army led by someone who had no relationship with their soldiers. Whoever they were, the people they commanded were seen as weapons, not actual people, and they were to be treated as such. They weren't given boosts of morale, weren't blessed by the presence of their betters, weren't motivated by anything but a means to an end. Thorunn had no doubt of this when she saw the look in Eriswe's eyes.
And she had no doubt that the army they were heading off to take down would harbor that same look when the Stormcloaks came marching.