Evening in Whiterun was cold and tense as Jarl Balgruuf retired to his quarters to consider Ulfric's axe. Dragonsreach was silent as Athene walked out, the steward Proventus and the housecarl Irileth giving looks that would have chilled her blood, if the weather hadn't already. It made the Companions' mead hall feel even more bright and welcoming.
Standing in the doorway to Jorrvaskr, watching Athis and Njada punch the spit out of each other, Athene wondered for the first time what she believed.
The Companions believed in getting a job done, straightforward and bloody. They took jobs for a variety of reasons, many of them financial, which was similar to her own Dark Brotherhood. Was there a massive difference between breaking someone's face because someone else was offended, and ending their life because someone was desperate enough to pray for it?
All right. Yes, there was. One was a lot more final. But both, she reasoned, were just a job with little thought given to why the employer wanted it done. No one asked a person who performed the black sacrament if their intentions were just. And no Companion questioned the motives of their patrons, either.
Meanwhile, the Stormcloaks believed in one man, Ulfric Stormcloak. A figurehead who represented everything they wanted Skyrim to be: proud, powerful, and purely Nord. His soldiers demonstrated their unwavering allegiance by taking his name for their own, every one. They might be fighting for their home, their families and for whatever personal experience had driven them to rebellion, but they believed in Ulfric. Like a minor deity, he allowed them to focus on one thing, avoiding all the complications involved in anarchy.
What did the Imperials believe? Hadvar, Athene knew, thought he was fighting for right by supporting his government to retain the status quo. More than that, he thought he was fighting for peace, for a stable country without rebellion. Genius Tullius certainly seemed to believe that getting rid of Ulfric would stop bloodshed. She'd heard the same sentiments from Emperor Titus Mede II when he'd given her the job to end Ulfric's life.
Athene did not believe fighting could ever result in peace. Although she wanted the Thalmor off Nirn entirely, she didn't think Ulfric was a God, and although she believed in a straightforward job, she wasn't concerned with honour the way the Companions were. The Dark Brotherhood had been a great fit from the start because Astrid's approach was direct and to the point. When the Night Mother declared Athene the Listener that had added something to the mix she wasn't yet sure she understood. She'd liked it, but had she ever really accepted it? Owned it? As far as she knew Nazir and Babette had taken the Night Mother's coffin to the Dawnstar sanctuary, but she had never checked. Cicero was still missing. Agni's fate was uncertain.
Athene's path had been a trail of unfinished things—Farkas came to mind now, too—and she was starting to wonder if it was her lack of conviction that had produced this result.
She was good at being flippant. Even as she examined her own motives the urge was within her to declare, "I believe I'll get drunk tonight, and try to bed a werewolf." But did she really believe that would banish her doubts come morning?
In Dragonsreach a leader was considering a response that might mean war for his people. It would certainly mean death for some regardless of what he decided. Was he questioning his own beliefs, alone at the top, while Athene questioned hers, here at the bottom of the heap?
Athis and Njada had finished their fight, and Athis lay nursing his jaw while Njada accepted a bottle of mead and drank deep, head back, victorious. That was exactly the kind of moment Athene liked best: a simple moment enjoyed fully, with no strings attached. She'd come into Skyrim angry and kicking, drawing her grief around her like a draugr's shroud. She had never taken a single step to shed herself of that grief, instead allowing it to stifle her movements. All she made room for was the odd moment of simple, unfettered joy.
Farkas saw her and waved, but not before Aela shoved Vilkas and pointed her way. Vilkas glowered, but he made no move as his brother sauntered up the stairs with a smile.
"Did you go?" he said eagerly. "Did you see the Greybeards? What did they tell you?"
Oh, right. Add that to the list of unfinished business.
"Not yet," she admitted. "But I do have a lot to tell you."
She'd surprised herself. Tell him? Like, the truth?
Why not, she figured. It doesn't have to be the whole truth.
"I'll get you a drink and we can sit outside."
Athene thought to say no, it was freezing outside, but then she realized she probably wouldn't be cold with him for company. And there was no need to say that.
The one thing she truly believed was that she, Athene—her complexity, her difficulty, her anger, and her grief—was no one's problem but her own.
"Make it a stiff drink," she said.
This was the kind of moment she liked best.