Hello my companions! I hope you all have liked what you are seeing so far. I believe this chapter is more, let's say exciting. This part was thought up from when the Dragonborn first comes to the Jarl once the Greybeards have summoned him/her. (He has already retrieved the Dragonstone for Farengar secret-fire) I would really love feedback, enjoy!
I stood beside the Jarl, holding my breath as if it was truly the last possession I owned. My dark eyes dart from the exhausted guard to the Jarl's contemplating face. Deep and dark silence entered the large hall, only interrupted by the crackle of the large fire pit every now and again. I glanced toward the kitchen where I saw Proventus holding three bottles of mead, perpendicular to the enormous doorway, not sure as what to do. His eyes caught sight of me wondering if he should approach the Jarl in his current mood. Hesitantly he walked forward, his head low. Proventus set the bottles beside Jarl Balgruuf's throne, only to then take his place at the bottom of the stairs.
"A dragon is here, in my city. The beast is attacking my people. Attacking my land. My home." He paused for probable effect, "I want this demon scum dead!" he roared. The cry sprung from his lungs to the high ceilings and back down to his subject's ears, echoing in their heads. Ignoring the urge to jump back, I instead swung my arms forward, stretching my tired muscles, trying to appear brave and strong, when I really wanted to cower in the shadow of the Jarl's anger.
"Guard, I want you to send more archers to the Western watchtower to aid my housecarl and the others." Said the Jarl as he pulled the cork from his mead and took a hefty gulp.
"But, my Jarl, there are only a few of us left?" said the man gingerly.
"Then send them all! I want this blasted thing dead for good! Understood?" the Jarl raised, causing the wine to tumble to the ground, forming a puddle around Balgruuf the Greater's feet.
"Ye-yes sir! Er, I mean my Jarl!" he gulped, begging to cure his parched throat. Though the guard wore a helmet, I could see that his eyes blazed with the glint of fear I have seen perhaps too often. Yet never in the face of a guard have I seen that wild gaze. The one where your pupils are dilated and the irises occupied the rest of the eye.
The Jarl breathed deeply, agitatedly calming himself.
"Now if you don't mind, I have a city to keep." He told the guard, sitting down. Not needing to be told twice, the young guard scurried off to the guard's tower to round up the others. If only I could get out there. I could aid them in their fight. It's not like I have more experience than them, it's just, I feel like out there is where I'm supposed to be, not locked up in Dragonsreach the rest of my life. Slowly I begin to walk forward, passing the long dining tables.
"Lydia? Where are you going?" questioned Balgruuf the Greater. I deliberately ignored him. I could hear him stand, his breathing growing unsteady. "Lydia! You get over here now, I will not ask you again!" yelled the Jarl. I began to run, taking to stairs three at a time. I charge the massive doors, thrusting them open brutally. I could hear the Jarl unsheathing his sword cursing at his guards to catch me, but I was already gone. Only now did I realize that I didn't even have all of my armor and would be useless to the fight, but I wanted to see it at least.
"In the name of the Jarl, stop right there!" roared a guard.
Two lookouts came running up the stairs outside, and three flanked me. Not seeing any other way out, I sidestepped, jumping into the large pond at the bottom of Dragonsreach. I had made it to the Wind district. I slosh out of the water passing the bulky stone statue of Talos, along with a priest screaming to people who weren't even there. The guards were descending the stairs now, swords drawn. Dear Gods, what have I done? I sprint through the Wind District like the, well, wind. I come upon Whiterun's market center. Yet I had no time for buying fresh produce. Citizens stop their conversations to see what scene lay in front of them. I pass the townspeople quickly, not apologizing for running into them every now and again. Turning a corner caused the city gate to be seen in the near distance. I just had to reach the gate, and I would be home free. I turned my head, whipping my black hair in my face, to see the guards were still racing after me, only now they were farther away, their stamina running low. I grinned slightly, I had done it.
"Lydia! You have done it my dear!" I laughed to myself. Suddenly, something rammed into me. Causing me to spring back, falling to the hard cobble stoned ground. Without my gauntlets, the stones tore at my skin, snatching it viciously. With the sting of blood racing down my arms, I look up at whatever had blocked my way. The young guard stood before me, his sword drawn. He looked down at me sickly. With a raw voice, he stated,
"Lydia, you are under arrest by the word of the Jarl. What say you in your defense?" I stared at him, awestruck. How had he caught me? I shook my head in utter disbelief. I was so close, all while so far as well.
"I-I" I stuttered. My brain had gone blank. My mouth had lost all knowledge of how to form words. The young guard sighed in relief as his predecessors caught up. They yanked me to my feet, tying my hands in ropes behind my back. I could feel the tight cable dig into my fresh wounds, causing them to bleed more, forming a small puddle around our feet.
"Take her to the Jarl, and then send her to the dungeons." Though the woman guard wore a helmet, I could practically feel her sinister smile as the joy of capturing me sunk deep within. I growled at her delight. The guards had to drag me the entire way. Sickened with fear of what the Jarl would do to me, I dug the heels of my steel boots into the cobble and dirt. I gulped nervously as large beads of sweat trickled down my temple, and materialized between my breasts.
What was he going to do with me? Troubled thoughts weaved in and out of my head and heart as the citizens gasped and or laughed as they hauled me back to the Jarl's palace. Here was a girl who had escaped and ran them down, that now lay defenseless, and probably off to her death by a very angry Jarl. I sighed deeply, knowing it was the end for me. I would be known as 'the girl who wanted to play with dragons, executed by her master.' I absolutely did not want to be known for that, but escaping a second time was definitely not the answer.
So we trudged onward, marching up the stone steps toward Dragonsreach beyond Whiterun's Wind district. The large decorative door was now in site. Before hauling me into the long hall, a giant roar followed by screams of people took place in the distance. All three of us looked back (the two guards and me.) Black smoke rose from an unseen point. The guards and I gulped heavily. That could only mean death. I hastily looked down. Why would you have wanted to go out there? It would have proved nothing but nightmares.
Without notice, the guards shoved me forward, leaving their fallen brothers behind them, rather regrettably I noted. The first thing I noticed was the Jarl standing at the bottom of the stairs, pacing. I couldn't recall any time where the Jarl had even been close to the stairs. Had he actually been waiting for me?
"Lydia!" he sighed in relief. Perhaps I was transparent when he looked at me, or maybe I was showing my utter disbelief too well, because he straightened up and began to stride toward me, all relief subsided.
"Lydia, you disobeyed me, and resisted arrest by my guards. Do you have any idea exactly how much trouble you are in?" Jarl Balgruuf the greater stared at me, apparently waiting for an answer.
"Uh, yes, I do realize it." I held my head in shame. How much more of a child could I have acted? Only children dreamed of fighting dragons. Not women in their 20's? "I am ready for whatever punishment you give me, my Jarl." I lied. The Jarl's face hardens.
"Good," he said solemnly. My throat dries instantaneously as my hands take that moisture and shoots it out sweat glands. I wiped my damp hands on my leggings with my hands bound together as he figured me forward. My last moments would be in the same place as where they first took place.
"Uh, do you mind if you cut off my head outside? I would prefer the fresh air, and the mess would be-" the Jarl glared at me quizzically. "Uh, right, never mind."
I stood before the Jarl as he unsheathed his ruby increased sword.
"Kneel." He murmured. Slowly, I got on my knees. Apologetically, I look into the eyes of my uncle. Knowing the blade would slice my head right off, quickly and cleanly. He raised it dramatically, the light bouncing off of it. The slight fear I had felt quickly escalated to a bubbling panic that exploded in my chest. He was actually going to follow through with this! No remorse glinted in his eyes. The descent came, yet never went. With confusion, I looked up at my uncle. He stared at me, with an unidentified expression.
"I-I don't understand" I stuttered. I stood, not sure as what had just happened.
"I will find a worse punishment for you, my dear." His voice was deviously cold, yet it made a sudden uncontrollable rush of liberation as I comprehended that I was not going to die today, well not from this anyway.
Abruptly, a thunderous boom shook the palace. Strange sounds erupted from an unknown source; seemingly well beyond the gates of Whiterun. Everyone in the long hall glanced nervously at one another, not really knowing what to do.
"Gods, was that the call?" muttered a guard to his companion. Call? What call and who was calling? No, who was the damn call for? I glared at him, mentally telling him to continue onward, yet he never did, the armored man on kept repeating the same words over and over again.
"My Jarl? What do we do?" asked the same lady guard that dragged me back here. The Jarl paused to consider.
"We wait." He announced to the room. Getting himself comfortable, he lowered himself in his throne.
"Wait!? But sir! What if it's a bandit raid! What if we are under attack?" argued Proventus.
"I said we will wait." He snarled, slamming his fists against his chair. The entire room cringed slightly. The fire crackled replacing the irritation of the Jarl's growls. I looked down at my boots again, then to the large tan doors. The anticipation of wanting to know who or what had made this 'call' nearly ate my innards.
The aromas of lunch being prepared drifted into the long hall as we continued to wait. I could smell goat cheese melting in a pot over a large cook fire and horker meat slowly turning above the cheese pot, its juices searing into the cheesy blend. My stomach growled ravenously. I took deep slow breaths trying to calm my hunger. The Jarl's cook only made it worse by adding mammoth snout to the mixture.
I was nearly about to snap and sprint to the freshly cooked meal when the large heavy doors cracked opened, with a head sticking through it. The Jarl craned his neck to see who was there. He smiled slightly at the shadow.
"Ah! Come in Duvaithor, come in indeed!" laughed the Jarl. The silhouette straightened, and entered the hall. The light bounced off his deep blackish greenish skin. His smile was seemingly dark and devious. Even when he walked, it seemed as if he was crouching; ready to lighten your coin purse. His eyes were pure white, no pupil stood in the way of the mesmerizing white. He approached the Jarl, holding a fresh new wound on his face, which stretched from his forehead, through his right eye, and through his top lip.
All joy gone from the Jarl's face he said, "So, is, is it dead?" he asked the traveler. A minor smirk formed as he nodded. "For good?" he added, clutching his heart. Leisurely, the dark elf looked around, and sighed tenderly.
"Let's just say, I would find it hard for the, dragon to make its way back without a soul." He whispered icily.
"His soul!?" yelled the Jarl in shock. "Well that means… Why, it can't be? You're… Dragonborn?" his eyes widened in amazement. Farengar secret-fire gasped dizzily. My eyes never left the traveler.
"How, how did you find out? I mean, I heard the Greybeards call, but I would have never believed it! How did you find this out?" the Jarl rose from his chair, demanding answers from the dark elf.
"I absorbed some kind of energy, and that noise from, the greybeards? Then I guess that happened." He shrugged.
"Do you know what this means, Duvaithor? This means the gods have not abandoned us! There is hope for Tamriel after all!" Balgruuf the greater practically danced like a mad man. The dark elf's arched eyebrows curved even more than normal. A slender grin bent onto his face.
"No, I guess I did not think of the meaning of it." Duvaithor bowed his head towards the Jarl, giving him the entire credit.
"Suck up." I muttered under my breath. I shuffled my feet, kicking up imaginary rocks figuratively in my way. The dark elf's reddish orange ponytail was almost as annoying as his snide smile. What was he doing in Skyrim anyway? It belonged to the Nords, not elves.
"Well, Duvaithor, by my right as Jarl, I name you Thane of Whiterun, it's the greatest honor in my power to grant. I assign you… Lydia, as YOUR personal housecarl, and this weapon from my armory will serve as your badge of office. I'll also notify my guards of your new title, wouldn't want them to think you were part of the common raddle now would we? We are honored to have you as thane in our city, Dragonborn." Jarl Balgruuf the Greater then turns to Proventus, acknowledging the fact that they still had a city to keep. My mouth hung open as 'Duvaithor' turned his eyes upon me. He smiled cynically as he visibly saw what a shock this news was to me. I snapped my mouth shut promptly. Stomping closer to the Jarl.
"Uncle, you cannot be serious?" I whispered urgently in his ear. He glared at me.
"That's Jarl, to you." He then turned away, ignoring me. Rolling my eyes I obliged.
"My Jarl… You cannot really mean this? You can't really expect me to follow him around and protect him with my life!? For all I know he could be wishing only to murder me! Or worse! He could be finding trouble so I have to save him and only die in the process! It's absurd!" I hissed. Jarl Balgruuf tilted his head toward me, smiling distantly.
"I told you I would find a suitable punishment for your actions, Lydia…" he purred. Oh that's just cold. Grinding my teeth I walked toward Duvaithor.
"Well, you must be Lydia, aren't you suppose to introduce yourself already? Well, I'll begin, Hello! My name is Duvaithor! And I am your thane and I guess the Dragonborn! As you can tell, I've had a really efficient day today!" he snickered. Ignoring him, I walk upstairs, retrieving the rest of my armor. Without surprise, he followed me, muttering things like "Oh, my, you've already forgotten something, tut tut, Lydia, you really should be more organized." And "We should really go fight something to warm you up. I doubt you've fought anything recently." I groaned in agony as he went on and on, begging Azura, Talos, or any freaking god to save me from my torture.
Eh? How did yall like my twist with Lydia? And how was my description of Dragon born? Oh! I would love to thank my best bud ElfDavis!? Not only for proof reading all this, but mainly for introducing FF to me and well, just for being awesome really. Ha, well, feedback would be amazing, farewell my friends!