Uther III
To wake up in a bed that is not my own was not something new to me, but to wake up in the Jarl's guest quarters was something odd indeed. I found myself in the room that was held for the High King or Queen when they visit, or the Emperor or some such person. I was still just a mercenary in my own head.
I had forgotten what had happened. When I had woken up the two older women who were the servants in the castle were the first to find me. They had sent word to the steward who in turn alerted the Jarl. Soon the room was full of people.
Stormcloaks and Imperials alike were pushing their way into my room to speak with me. What in the realms of Oblivion had happened?
"Ah Thane Uther, I am glad to know you are awake." Balgruuf smiled. His smile was contagious and soon everyone was grinning like I had single handedly sent the elves back to their islands.
"What did I miss?" I looked around the room scanning faces when Lydia came running in to check on me.
"My thane, how do you feel?" She took a knee near my bed and placed her hands on my shoulder. She saw that I was trying to sit up and refused to let me.
"I am sore, confused, and alive…" I looked at her worried face. "I feel more alive now than I ever have. Something has woken up inside me, a burning down in the pit of the stomach."
The room broke out an even larger grin.
"What the hell did I miss?" I shouted and the room shook. Why did the room shake? I saw Lydia had been slid several feet across the room. She was unhurt. She had only slid on her behind but still her face looked shocked.
"Sir, you killed the dragon." A young Nord in Imperial armor stepped forward. I recognized him as the scout who brought us the false reports.
"A dragon, you're kidding me. We were fighting the Stormcloaks." I raised myself up to a sitting position. Then I felt it in my ribs. I wish I had just listened to Lydia.
"Seriously, you fought a dragon and won." A large red haired Nord wearing Stormcloak blue and bearskins spoke. His voice sounded like gravel on concrete.
"More than that, Galmar. He killed the dragon and it remained dead." The speaker looked away from Galmar and I recognized him and the other man. It was Ulfric's son and Ulric's housecarl.
"Aye, you're the Dragonborn." A blond Stormcloak stepped forward. He lowered his head as if I were a king.
"I am not!" I shouted again and this time sent the crowd staggering backward. Thankfully no one fell.
Lydia was then at my side again, "This is what you get for making me guard Breezehome while you went off to play at war." It amused me that she chided me like we were together.
"Lydia, is it true?" I looked at her, one of the few people I truly trusted in this world.
"Yes, My thane. When you killed it the dragon's body burned and the flame jumped to you. We think you ate its soul." She tried to explain, but I could see her confusion. "He was with you." And she pointed back to the Imperial who had apparently went with me to fight the dragon.
When I had recovered, I learned the reason the opposing sides were not fighting. Everyone was celebrating, a way to end the dragon threat had come around and the war had stopped. The leaders were meeting to discuss a surrender of Whiterun, as they had the city surrounded and cut off from reinforcements.
"You want Vignar Gray-Mane to become Jarl?" Jarl Balgruuf was shouting. We were all seated at a table on the Great Porch discussing terms.
"Aye, he comes from the oldest clan in Whiterun and is respected by all." Galmar slammed his fist on the table.
"He has no heir! He is an old feeble man. Who will take over when he dies?" The current Jarl was still yelling. Is this diplomacy in Skyrim?
"His brother or his brother's children could inherit!" Galmar yelled bacl. Edric Stormblade flinched next to him. Even he did not quite agree.
"Galmar, with respect. Eorlund is a Companion who forsake all titles when they join. One of his sons is a Stormcloak and the other is a fugitive." I spoke up. I tried not to speak as I still did not understand politics but I somehow carried a new weight on my shoulders and would try to help.
"Who would you suggest then, Dragonborn?" The entire table turned to face me.
"I suggest Jarl Balgruuf keep his throne." Uproar. "I say this because he can easily swear your oath Galmar." The Imperials were shouting. "Hear me out." I commanded, my thu'um carried and everyone shut up for a few minutes.
"I say this because it is what works the best for both sides. He is a true son of Skyrim. He worships Talos and allows for others to as well." Galmar smiled at that, while the Legate looked less than pleased. "On the flipside, he does agree with the Empire so if the Stormcloaks win their war then the center of trade in Skyrim is in good relation with the South. If they lose then that's at least one Hold, and a major one at that, that you don't have a hard pressed fight to get the Imperial Dragon flying over the city again."
My suggestion soon bore fruit and they worked out an agreement that I did not care about the details of. When I went to depart for the Graybeards I was stopped by the Jarl.
"I want to thank you, Thane Uther. You came into my court as an outlaw and rose to nobility. As a thane of the court you did you best to fight my enemies, then you killed a damned dragon for me. If that was not enough when they could have taken away my very Hold you secured it for me. I will never be able to thank you." Then he hugged me. I did not realize what I had done for him until that moment. He was going to have his entire world taken away from him and three separate times I stopped that from happening.
"My Jarl. You will always have my loyalty. You saved me from who knows what punishment for no reason other than compassion for you kinsman. I owe you my life."
Before the Legion left to find a new home in Solitude or some camp in the wilds the Legate made sure to offer me a place in their ranks, and the Stormcloaks made sure to offer as well once they got settled in to the city. I was unsure of who was in the right or wrong and decided to avoid politics.
Then I went to my home near the gates of the city. It was a quaint little place. I had room for myself and Lydia. We were slowly fixing the place back up, doing odd jobs here and there as well as my pay from the court.
When I came home I found Lydia cooking over the firepit in our living space. The woman could not cook to save her life, but I found it cute. There was an unspoken attraction between the two of us. I was thankful to Balgruuf for giving me her as a housecarl instead of the large bald man with one eye that he could have sent my way.
"Lydia, whatever you are cooking smells wonderful. I will be down to eat in a few minutes. I would like to change out of these clothes and into my own. The Jarl's clothes were to fine for my taste. I just wanted my own things for the night.
When I got to my room I found that my bed had not gone empty the last several nights. Lydia's clothes were at the bottom of the bed. She had been sleeping here while I was recovering in the Palace and they refused her a room or even a bedroll at the end of my bed. I saw her journal at my bedside table.
She had picked up the habit while traveling with me over the past several months. I in turn had picked it up from Irnskar. It was good for family and friends if you were dead to know what you were doing when you died. Of course that means they actually find your body. Also it is good for when you lose your memory. Irnskar told stories of an old witch hunter who lost his memory after nearly dying and spent years trying to figure out who he was.
When I read through her diary I found that she had cried herself to sleep the first night. She had thought I was dying and would never wake up. She had slept in my bed because it reminded her of me. My smell, my messiness, she thought it was all she had left. When I woke up she wrote that she would stay until I was returning home and then try to hide her things from me and get them back to her little room near the stairs. It made me laugh to think about.
"I know I told you that you could get the house if I died before you, but that didn't mean you could take over my bed when I was laid up." I laughed as I walked up to her.
"I… I… thought you had died." She began to cry over the food. It was through cooking yet she still stirred the pot. I took the ladle out of her hands and laid it down. I took her into my arms and let her cry her eyes out.
That night she shared my bed. Nothing sexual happened. After supper we stayed awake talking about what would be happening in Skyrim and our next destination. Hours of talking led to her falling asleep next to me. I carried her up the stairs and into bed, stopping only to get her to change into sleeping clothes while she was half awake.
It was a long, good night holding her. I was not sure how many of those days were left for tomorrow I would set out for the Throat of the World. I would give her the choice to go with me, but the Graybeards were what came next.