Fate's Games

(A/N: Second up today, a reader's request and a pairing I find I'm enjoying. I actually took part of this idea from my own experience. Hired Thugs tried to kill my character right inside Dragonsreach. I ran to the throne room and let's just say the battle didn't last long, and Balgruuf did the most damage too. I've done a few revisions, having found out Balgruuf had three children, not two.)

Heroine

He'd never wanted another after his first wife's death. His first thoughts were of his three children. She was gone, and she had been the one who spent every waking moment with them. He'd always been so busy with his duties as Jarl that the children born to him were practically strangers. There was an heir to the throne, and at the time of the births of his children, that had been all that mattered to him. He'd never learned what it was to be a father, or any kind of parent. That was what she did. Now she was gone, and he found himself clueless.

His youngest son made it no secret he resented him. Every traveller that came through it was the same line. "Another wanderer, here to lick my father's boots. Good job." The boy never thought he'd heard, but he heard very well. The eldest boy seemed unaffected but had begun acting out, particularly when it came to fighting, and the child wasn't afraid to use his fists when knives were beyond his reach. He didn't trust it. His daughter was spoiled rotten after his wife's death, quickly becoming daddy's little girl, or rather trying to become that. He was hardly there for her. Her favorite line was something along the lines of, "Another servant? Please remember I like my milk warm when it is brought to me."

He tried, goodness knew he tried, but with the civil war and trying to hold a semi-neutral position… It was just too much. He couldn't keep up with everything, often leaving the three under the care of his servants, his Housecarl, his steward, the soldiers, and Farengar. All the while he saw his youngest son becoming darker and darker, his eldest son becoming more and more... he wasn't sure. And his daughter, she was becoming something else. He didn't know why. It hurt him more than anything else that his children felt as if they couldn't go to him. It hurt him that despite all his power, all his skill, he couldn't protect them. Then she'd come, a harbinger of grave news. A dragon had attacked Helgan, and now Riverwood was calling for his aid. Now dragons? And he'd asked her how she'd come to be here and she'd told him about her near execution, and he had known in that instant that there was something different about this one.

ES

He didn't think much on it when she left on her quest for Farengar. Until three days had passed without her return, that is. He struggled to focus on his duties, but how could he when his mind was occupied with his fear regarding the young woman, and the desperation he felt to protect his offspring whom he sensed in his bones, his spirit, his very being, that now more than ever needed a parent, not a king. And he was trying, but he didn't know how, and his mind was consumed by guilt for the strange young woman who still hadn't come back and whom he believed he may have sent to death, and his heart was torn between two sides of a civil war, and every waking moment he sensed a presence in his palace that terrified him, and every passing day he felt more and more certain that… that his own children plotted his death; because the way his youngest son looked at him, the way he fingered the dagger his mother had once given him… Honestly, part of him wished it were so. All of this suffering would end at death.

Then she returned, as he was lost in his thoughts, and he almost leapt from the throne, though outwardly he remained calm and collected. His children greeted her, cold as always, but she simply smiled at them and handed them all, treats? What on Earth… As he tried to puzzle it out, and as the woman spoke to Farengar, a soldier entered into his palace and told of a dragon attacking the Western Watchtower. Immediately he told Irileth to collect Farengar. To his surprise, Farengar wasn't the only one she brought. With her came the woman. So he allowed the defense of the watchtower, and again as he watched the stranger leave he felt a sense of dread, felt as though she might not return and this had been a death sentence. Again he was plagued by so many thoughts and responsibilities he wished to lie down and never awaken again.

Then he noticed his children watching him quietly, and for a moment he saw worry in their eyes, but worry turned to resentment and haughtily they all left, his eldest son shooting him an ugly scowl that sent shivers down his spine. There was something in his palace that shouldn't be there. There was some power here corrupting his little ones, his babies, and in that moment he swore to himself he would free them of that curse if he had to die doing it.

ES

He could only stare, lips parted, as the stranger entered, her hair windswept and a flush on her cheeks. She looked shaken, afraid, and he believed that was the first time he'd ever seen such emotions. She approached his throne and knelt before him submissively. "Rise, my lady," he said to her, a sense of calm covering him that gave him such relief from his torturous thoughts… Never had he thought he would feel such respite for as long as he lived, almost as if everything would be all right and all of this would end. "Tell me what happened," he commanded.

She rose and told him everything in detail, and he listened in awe to her declaration. Dragonborn. She was a Dragonborn, a hero of old, and suddenly the shout he had been discussing with his advisor and most trusted guard made so much more sense. His gratefulness to her was eternal for the service she had done for him, and so he named her a Thane of Whiterun, giving to her a home in his city. She graciously accepted and went to leave, pausing only long enough to give him her name and then to hear his children's snarky remarks. Gently she chastised them and left.

ES

She was a regular presence in his palace, back and forth from her adventures to the grandeur of his halls. She had no home, deciding against purchasing the one in Whiterun. After all, though this was the city she most frequented, she never stayed too long, otherwise out in Skyrim being the heroine she was meant to be. But always she returned to her Jarl. Yes, she dubbed him her Jarl, for compared to all the others she'd met, he was the only one she truly respected, even despite his faults, and she knew there were many. She supposed that in a way Dragonsreach was her home.

She often greeted his children affectionately, rewarding them with treats when they were polite and chastising them when they were disrespectful. Especially to him, who for some reason she felt a special protection towards. There was no hesitation on his part to help her, and this was proven beyond a doubt when one day hired thugs were waiting for her inside the city, in front of the cloud district. There were no guards around. Weak and injured already, she couldn't have hoped to survive a battle with them, so she fled. She fled into the grand hall of her king and fell before him, clinging to his knees for protection, shivering; and shocking him beyond belief.

He looked quickly up and saw the hired thugs race towards her, towards his own throne. Fury darkened his eyes. How dare they burst into his palace and attempt to slaughter his champion in front of his very eyes. His children screamed, fleeing from the throne room, and he rose, drawing his blade. The guards at his throne as well as Irileth, Farengar, and anyone else near to him converged on the group. The thugs, fools each one, tried to reach her, but her king stood blocking their way, and cut them each down one by one before they could so much as fire an arrow. Soon the excitement died and he turned quickly back to her.

He knelt next to her. She looked weakly up at him, eyes clouding over. She was going to faint. She must have lost a good bit of blood during her last battle, and he realized instantly that she had been coming to him for help. He picked her up and called out orders to his people. Swiftly he carried her into his room and laid her upon the bed. She'd never owed her life to anyone before. It was odd. It was frightening. But there was no other man she would rather have been indebted to. "Thank you," she breathed softly.

He hardly left her during her time infirmed, and nor did his children. It was the closest he'd ever felt to his little ones for a long time, but there was still the dark auras about them, his youngest especially. He tried to ignore, but what fool ignored what was so plainly in front of them, especially when it meant life and death. The next time he sent her on a mission was for just that reason.

ES

She came to him, asking about the rumors surrounding his little ones. She saw his eyes become filled with misery and pain. In that moment she saw such hurt in him, such fatigue and stress, that it almost frightened her. For a moment he looked so weak, so old, and oh, so depressed. He closed his eyes tightly and told her about his youngest's odd behavior. He begged her to speak to the little boy, and who was she to refuse?

She was horrified when the child told her about the whispering door, and when the boy hinted that… that if she killed Farengar for the key, no one would notice the young wizard's death. She saw it in him, a darkness that shouldn't have been there. A curse. And she wanted so badly to free the children. She knew, now, what Balgruuf had meant when trying to explain his feelings to her. She saw, now, why he was so afraid of patricide. He feared it because he was right.

When she learned whose influence the little ones were falling under, the children she had come to love, she knew it was exactly what would happen if Mephala wasn't stopped. And it frightened her more than anything that she couldn't find a way to prevent the Daedric mistresses plot. Why did it hurt her so badly, to know that she could do nothing? To know her Jarl's fate could very well be sealed…?

ES

He had been asleep when she ran into his room. He started, looking up. Worry came to his eyes and he tried to rise, but all at once she was in his arms with silent tears streaming down her face. He was completely lost. What had happened, what was going on? "What happened? Are you all right? Where are my children?" he asked, increasingly more alarmed. And she told him everything. Oh how she told…

He held her tightly, hurt and sadness and fear and so many other emotions written in his face. He buried his head in her hair softly until she calmed down. After a long moment he breathed, "If… If death is to be my fate, then so be it. But Mephala will not possess my children."

"I don't want you to die," she whispered softly, clinging to him.

"Dragonborn, your courage and loyalty surpasses even my most trusted," he murmured to her, and he was getting lost in the feel of her hair and in the warmth of her body against his and the softness of her skin. "If I should be killed, promise me one last favor; that you will take my children into your protection, and raise them as if they were your own. Even if it should be… be them to end my life."

"I follow my King," she replied, nuzzling close to him.

"But how far?" he questioned.

"To death," she answered.

"No death, my lady, never death," he softly soothed. "I could not ask that of you."

"You won't have to," she declared. "I will raise your little ones as my own if…" She shivered and burrowed into his body, and gods, he hadn't felt anything akin to this since his late wife.

"If I am killed," he finished for her. She nodded miserably.

"Do you agree to be bound to me, now and forever," he murmured, and whether she understood his meaning or not, it wouldn't matter. But he couldn't have kept silent any longer.

"I will be your wife," she answered, laughing. His heart jumped. She'd understood.

"My Queen, my bride, my heroine," he said softly. Lovingly he kissed her head. "All I have is yours."