Gentle hands ran through midnight brown hair, coaxing the woman from sleep. The tender touch was soothing, chasing away the tormented visions. "My Thane, you must wake up. We have much to do today."
Sálea grunted, eyelids far too heavy to lift. Lydia, however, was undeterred and continued to speak to her.
"I wish I could let you rest more, but you need to rise. I'll worry for your safety should we stay longer than we have."
Sálea's conscious mind poked, and prodded, urging her to open her eyes. Her heart quickened and by the grace of Mara, she opened her eyes. Light was streaming in from the cracked window and she groaned. Her head was pounding, her eyes stung, and her body was covered in pins and needles, stiff to move.
"Good. I have your tea right here." Sálea blinked, looking over to her right slowly. Lydia gave her a small, tight smile. "Will you need assistance?"
Sálea attempted to sit up, her arms were shaking but after a moment of struggling, she managed to sit upright. As she did, her world spun and pain erupted behind her eyes. Sucking in a breath, Sálea closed her eyes and brought her hand up to rub her temples.
"I'll be fine." She croaked, throat tight.
Lydia very softly handed Sálea the warm cup of tea and sighed. "I'll go get some breakfast, I'll be right back."
Sálea didn't respond to Lydia as she left, instead focusing on bringing the mug up to her lips. Taking a sip, she coughed harshly. The liquid burned as it went down, warming her, yes, but Sálea was unprepared for how dry her throat was. It was like her throat was split apart with a multitude of small paper cuts and the tea was salt. Cupping it with her free hand, Sálea moaned and massaged it lightly.
With a sigh, Sálea closed her eyes and tried to distract herself from the pain. So she listened to the footsteps that seemed to be echoing through the walls. The other guests breathing as they slept, chickens clucking and children giggling. She could hear horses and their riders, wagons moving and people shouting to each other a hearty good morning. Taking a deep breath, she let it out slowly. She could smell Lydia's scent throughout the room, the food rations in her pack, the faint smell of blood and sweat covering her armor. Further beyond her room, Sálea could smell the roast, the smoke and ash from the fire, and the soap down in the baths below.
Sálea coughed lightly and groaned. Was the pain she felt in her throat similar to what others felt when they overused their shouts? Sálea herself had barely used her shouts, worried that she'd be overheard and made out to be the dragonborn. Therefore disobeying her Jarl's orders. Lydia's scent grew stronger and within the moment, she returned with soup, bread, and a cup of water. Her housecarl set the tray down and pressed the back of her hand to Sálea's forehead.
"My Thane, you do not look well. You're white as snow and cold to the touch. Did something happen during the night? Did sleep not come?"
Sálea removed her hand from her throat and took another sip of her tea. The drink was still warm, but she no longer felt any pain. Taking advantage of the opportunity, Sálea downed the tea and sighed. She had no idea what was in that tea, but it worked miracles.
"I. . ." Sálea started then breathed in through her nose. "I did not have the best of time. I. . . well,
it's hard to explain."
Her mind captured, Sálea could have sworn she heard the people screaming, dragons roaring and fire sizzling as it burned wood and people alike. She could smell the burning flesh and the ash as it filled the air. Felt the flames as they burned her, consuming her with suffocating heat from the inside out. Preventing her from breathing but not from shouting, from screaming. Nor did it prevent her from taking flight, rising up in the sky to feel the wind slide across her scales and the beat of her wings.
Sálea frowned, and looked up at Lydia, studying her. She looked like she rested well. Her dark hair was combed, falling slightly in her face to frame it. Her face was unblemished and clear, with no bags under her eyes to give away how she fared during the night. Even Lydia's armor was put together well, clean, and well-adjusted to her body, showing off her curves and prowess as a warrior. In comparison, Sálea must have looked like a wreck, or more likely a drowned skeever.
Lydia hummed, moving the empty mug away from Sálea and replacing it with the soup and bread. "I understand that you might not wish to talk about it. But I recommend that at some point you do. With me, or someone else I might not know about. A lover perhaps?" She teased, gently nudging Sálea in the side.
Sálea snorted, pretending to be more focused on the food in front of her. As if she could gain the attention of some man looking and feeling like she did. No man would want to touch her or even look at her should they find out just how. . . volatile she had become. In fact, she would bet a good amount of gold that once they found out about the dragons residing within her, they would run away, tail between their legs. With a sigh, Sálea blinked and realized that her world had finally stopped spinning. Even the soreness in her muscles and the pounding in her head had eased. That tea worked miracles. "Please, don't speak of the impossible. I wrote off romance a long time ago. If you, however, do find a man that meets your standards, don't let me stand in the way."
Lydia gasped and mimed hitting her, making Sálea smile as she sipped the soup. "As if I would leave you for some man!" Lydia dramatically said, lifting the back of her hand to her forehead and pretending to faint. "The mere thought ails me!"
Lydia then pretended to fall over and landed on top of the brown furs that covered her bed. Sálea's shoulders shook with silent laughter as she tried to swallow some water. By the nine, she loved Lydia with everything she had. She was certain she would be lost in the world without her. She was more friend than housecarl and more sister than friend. Finishing the food, Sálea went to stand but her legs refused to take her weight and Sálea collapsed. Lydia was quick as lightening, catching her and steading Sálea with strong hands.
"Take it easy, you did a lot of walking yesterday. We might need to take it slow today, I don't want you wearing yourself out any more than you already have." Lydia suggested, all teasing and playfulness having disappeared, replaced with a cold seriousness.
Sálea growled and shook her head. "For Talos sake! I went from Whiterun to Riverwood and I can't even stand on my own two feet!" Raising her hand to her forehead, Sálea whimpered, her arm wrapped tightly around Lydia's shoulders. "This is getting to be pathetic, Lydia! I am as weak as a newborn calf! How am I supposed to pass Kodlak's trial, when I am becoming less of a warrior and more babe by the day?!"
Lydia frowned and said nothing. Merely watching as Sálea sobbed into her hand. She was supposed to be the legendary dragonborn. She was supposed to go out and kill dragons, protect holds, and slaughter bandits. When she first became dragonborn, this was easy, frighteningly so. Then she had to go and fuck it all up.
She had no right calling herself Thane. No right to call herself dragonborn either.
"We will fix this, I promise. Maybe not before we must leave for your trail, but by then, I hope to have thought of something that might help. For now, let's just do what we came here for, and get you back to Whiterun, where you're safe." Lydia whispered, rubbing Sálea's back as she regained feeling in her legs and stood on her own two feet.
Whipping her tears, Sálea mutely nodded and attached her enchanted pack to its rightful place, having slept in her armor the night before. Lydia brought out a comb and Sálea allowed her to fix her unruly hair. Honestly, she couldn't have cared for it herself. Once finished, Lydia did the same and grabbed her own bag and then led them both outside after paying the innkeeper. Sálea took a deep breath, grateful for the chilly wind as it below past her. It was clean, with the slight smell of flowers and wet dirt. People walked along the street, pausing to talk to one another and smiling as they watched the children run and play with each other.
People waved to them as they passed and Sálea managed to smile and greet Dorothy with a wave. She liked to stop by every once in a while to say hello to Hadvar's family. It was the least she could do after what they did for her. Once outside of town, Sálea continued to follow Lydia as she led them to the spot where she noticed the tracks. They were almost off the beaten road, causing the forest on their left to look somehow odd, uninviting, and wild. However, Sálea understood what drew her housecarl's attention to this place. The underbrush was disturbed, grass began to flatten and tree branches laid on the forest floor, unnoticeable to most.
"Here, my Thane," Lydia called as she crouched down in the road. "These are the tracks I saw yesterday. There are some fresh ones here as well."
Sálea walked over to her housecarl and looked down at the tracks. Just as Lydia said, many men had clearly just passed through, heading to their left. "Well. . ." Sálea started, pulling out her small daggers, uncertain if she was able to lift her sword at the moment. "Let's sneak up on them, and see what we're dealing with."
Lydia stood and Sálea crept forward into the woods, staying low to the ground as she focused on the tracks. Eventually, they came across a clearing and they hid behind the bushes. Sálea took a deep breath, heart sinking into her stomach. There were many bandits in the camp. The men were tall, muscular, and layered with weapons and cruel scars. Their larger, imposing fighters circled the camp, some carried bows and arrows, while others carried swords. as they guarded the camp.
If she had her strength. . . Looking over towards Lydia, Sálea bit her lip and glanced at the ground. Could Lydia take these men by herself? No, she couldn't. She herself could have. She could have easily swept through, killing them all herself. In the past, she could've.
There were far too many of them to take on in such a state, however, they had to try. Sálea had half the mind to turn back and get Whiterun's guards. But what would that cost? Her honor? Her pride? The people's trust? Her Jarl's trust in her abilities? This was the last mission he had given her before he sent her to join Jorrvaskr and hide. She was doing a terrible job at hiding, yes, but how was she supposed to hide within the walls when she could stand the stench more than the people? Making up her mind, Sálea turned her attention back to Lydia, who was already looking at her, awaiting orders.
"Listen, here's the plan. There are far too many of them to take on in a head-on attack. So we split up, take them from behind, a sneak attack if you will. Sword or daggers, whatever you prefer." Sálea whispered, lifting up the steel daggers she held in her hands. "If it gets bad, I'll shout."
Lydia frowned. "If you are aware of the number, then why take the risk? It'd be far safer to return to Whiterun and gather reinforcements."
Sálea rolled her eyes and sighed. "Lydia, I am the dragonborn, I should be able to do this in my sleep! But I can't. I shouldn't be weak but I am. If we go back, what will the Jarl think of me? His Thane? The legendary dragon who can not kill a few bandits?! We should have killed them yesterday, we should be almost back to Whiterun by now!" Rubbing her temples, Sálea pierced her lips. "They won't rely on me if they find out about my condition. Worse, they might not ask me for help when they need it. We have to do this by ourselves."
Lydia remained silent, thinking it over. Sálea took a deep breath and held it, willing the tears to go away. She had to be the most naive, pathetic dragonborn to ever live, surely. She couldn't even walk the short distance to Riverwood without falling into exhaustion and becoming ill!
She just didn't understand what she did wrong! The Blades told her she had to kill all the dragons, Alduin included. So was she not supposed to go and hunt down so many? Was she supposed to wait between killings? Would her body just get used to it eventually and become well again? All her life, she was told not to overdo it, that if she could give no more, then stop. Rest. Was that wrong of her to do? Was resting the wrong thing to do in this situation?
She never should have listened to them.
"Very well," Lydia whispered, gaining Sálea's attention. "I believe you are correct. If people find out just how vulnerable you are right now, they will increase their efforts and send more men after you. We can't risk it. If they send enough men, the people will find out who the dragonborn is and they will surely attack together."
Sálea paused. That really wasn't what she was thinking about, but Lydia was correct as well. They would send more men after her and more people's lives would be endangered. With a nod sent in Lydia's direction, they got up and split. Lydia to the right, Sálea to the left.
As quietly as she could, Sálea went up behind the closest man, keeping an eye on the other guards, and waited for Lydia to get into position. As one, they both reached up and grabbed the men around their shoulders, their blades sinking into their flesh without so much as a sound. Sálea allowed the body to drop and then dragged it behind the tent he had stood in front of.
With a breath, Sálea picked out her next victim, he was closer to her than the guards, who had moved positions, tending to one of the fires. Sneaking up behind him, Sálea lifted her daggers and lunged forward, slitting his throat. Catching his body as blood rushed out and over her hand, Sálea cringed and silently gaged as the warm liquid dripped down onto the forest floor. Dragging his dead body behind a crate, Sálea waited as two bandits passed her by.
"Where did Gerald go? I swear if he had to take a leak again. . ." One of them complained, noticing their missing comrade.
Sálea brought her head down and prayed that they wouldn't be noticed. She had no idea how many Lydia had killed, most likely more than her, but they just started their attack, and if they were found out now. . .
"Who cares, I'm going to take a nap." The man who spoke patted the other ones back and left him, disappearing deeper into the camp.
After a moment, Sálea removed herself from her hiding spot and went up behind the man who stayed. He was studying the ground and as she neared, he turned to face her and gasped.
"Wh—" He started, grabbing the hilt of his sword.
Sálea panicked, rushing forward and throwing one of her daggers. The man dogged, throwing himself to the ground and rolling to a stand. Sálea didn't allow herself to think too hard about it, whispering a shout and praying to the nine that it would still work as well as before.
"Wuld. . . Nah Kest!"
In a blink, Sálea shot forward faster than the man could move and slammed her dagger deep into his chest. The man gurgled blood, red staining his lips as he collapsed. Sálea's chest heaved with effort as she struggled to breathe. Her shout, at the very least, didn't seem loud enough to gain anyone's attention. Still, Sálea refused to move, listening to the sound of her wheezing and the fire roaring. When no one appeared for several moments, Sálea dropped quickly and hauled the body back behind the crates, joining his comrade in death.
Pausing to catch her breath, Sálea stayed behind the crates, searching the ground for her missing dagger. Unable to find it, Sálea huffed in annoyance. She couldn't have thrown it that far. Unless it ended up in the fire. . . Internally scolding herself for being so reckless, Sálea moved away from the crates and crouched low to the ground. Checking her surroundings, she slowly moved to the fire and there it was, sitting among the ash and covered with soot. With a bit more confidence than before, Sálea whispered another shout.
"FEIM Zii Gron!"
A certain kind of numbness consumed her body and Sálea reached out, grabbing her dagger and moving away from the fire and back to the crates. Her shout wore off as soon as she got behind the crates and Sálea gasped, dropping her dagger onto the ground. It was hot, but a quick check of her hand revealed no burn. Silently thanking the gods, Sálea waited before picking it up again. It was warm, like a hot mug of tea, but otherwise it appeared undamaged.
With that, Sálea turned her attention back to the bandits and set out for her next kill. She started to lose count after a while, the motions becoming repetitive; Sneak, stab, drag, hide, repeat. She only needed to use her Thu'um a few more times, but having discovered that she could still use the shouts without being found, Sálea became more hopeful. Although her shouts were not as strong as they would have been if she actually shouted them, they were still effective enough to get her by.
Sálea removed her dagger from the bandit she just killed and sighed, her sore muscles from earlier in the day reminding her of their existence.
"My Thane," Lydia called out, walking over to Sálea with a smile on her face. "I have gone through the entire camp, there are no more bandits. I-I honestly can not believe we managed to kill them all without being detected!"
Sálea gave her a tired smile, slightly swaying on her feet before catching herself. "I come up with good plans every once in a while." She then frowned. "But I did have to use my shouts to get by. I got caught in the beginning, I was to eager I suppose. Though I have made the discovery that I can whisper my shouts, but they are not as effective as they usually would have been. They didn't have the same power and couldn't have lasted more than a few seconds."
Lydia merely nodded. "You rest here, I'll loot search the bodies. We can split up the gold when we get back to Whiterun."
Sálea stared at her a moment and then nodded, taking a seat on one of the chairs left out by one of the bandits. "I'll be here."
Lydia left and Sálea sighed, rubbing her temples. There was heat in her chest, burning her as it crept up and ensnared her heart. It was like a fire had been lit and fanned across the plains, destroying everything in its path. It left her flushed and cotton-mouthed. Searching her pack, Sálea pulled out her water skin and drank greedily. The water ran down her throat and cooled her, if only briefly. Taking a deep breath, Sálea sighed. This had to be the worst thing to ever happen to her.
"Alright, I searched through the camp and gathered anything I found that might be useful. I recommend we hurry back to Whiterun, it's late into the afternoon and if we continue to stay here we'll be caught in the dark." Lydia announced, seeming to appear out of nowhere.
Sálea nodded and made to stand. Wobbling for a moment, Sálea waved off Lydia's helping hand. "I'm fine, I just wasn't breathing." Hard to breathe when an inferno sucks the very air from my lungs.
Lydia hesitated before she nodded and turned, leading her back to the road. Sálea sighed and followed behind her, struggling to put one foot in front of the other. She trusted Lydia enough to watch their surroundings for any danger, even now, Lydia kept looking back behind her to check that Sálea was keeping up. Sálea might have noticed that Lydia slowed her pace. Maybe just a little.
Allowing Lydia to take the lead, Sálea's mind wandered off again. Was this what other dragonborns experienced? Or was it just her? Did she do something wrong? She must've done something wrong to get this ill. She doubted other dragonborns ever had to deal with such a problem.
Perhaps the Gray Breads would know something? They were masters in the voice, but would they know something more about being the dragonborn that they had not previously shared? Or maybe the Blades knew something? She was reluctant to trust them, since dealing with them only brought her more problems.
They literally watched Alduin bring back a dragon and Delphine believed the Thalmor had something to do with it? Delphine then had the gall to threaten her, saying she would no longer help her if she didn't go to the Thalmor embassy. She did, and look where that got her? She was being hunted down and forced to hide within her own city, unable to go out and do things her Jarl may have needed her to do. Worse, Balgruuf had to go one step further and order her to hide within Jorrvaskr. How that was safer Sálea may never know. Whiterun had become a prison, and Jorrvaskr her cell. She was an inmate, allowed out only to perform her duties before being locked back in. She had only been under lockdown for a few days, but she already felt trapped.
Damn Blades.
Nothing good came from them. As soon as she was able, Sálea was going to cut contact with them. Stupid pieces of cow dung. The Blades might have been responsible for her prison, but they were also to blame for her current situation.
While Sálea was comfortable with owning up to her actions, she was still capable of holding resentment for wrongdoings. Especially when it came to being used and manipulated. The Blades had told her the dragonborn was their leader. The true dragon slayer or some crap. Therefore, she was their leader and commanded them. Lydia tried to warn her, tried to tell her she was being used as a pawn. Controlled by their pretty words, her fear and insecurity being taken advantage of. She hadn't listened to Lydia like she should have. She already apologized for that. But. . .
Stopping abrupting in the road, Sálea watched as Lydia stopped and turned to her, concern lining her face. "My Thane, is everything alright? Are you feeling well?" She asked, coming closer to her.
Sálea blinked, before nodding. Her mind was scrambling to come up with some reasonable excuse or idea. Something to delay their return to Whiterun. Something Lydia would think a good idea.
"Ah, yes, I'm fine." Sálea fumbled with her thoughts, glancing around her. "It's just. . . I had a thought. . ."
"Yes?" Lydia encouraged, placing her hand on her shoulder. "You can tell me."
Sálea nodded and swallowed down the truth. "It's just, we are already outside of Whiterun. Who knows when we'll be able to leave again? I'm supposed to hide, yes, but I can't just stay there. I only know three shouts; Whirlwind Sprint, Unrelenting Force and the Become Ethereal shout. Three out of many. I should know more than that after months of being dragonborn. I should have put equal focus into hunting down word walls as I did dragons."
Lydia nodded, seeming to keep up with her rambling. "And you wish to go find one before returning?" Sálea nodded, glad that Lydia at least understood. "Well," Lydia paused, thinking. "I agree with you. You should know more than you do. We could go get one—!"
Sálea yelped as she was suddenly dragged off the dirt road and pushed into a thorny bush. "Stay down!" Lydia whispered, hiding among another pair of bushes. Sálea remained quiet and still, desperately trying to ignore the thorns piercing her bare skin.
Within moments, a group of high elves appeared, marching down the road. Thalmor, to be precise. They marched together, the sound of armor clanking together and weapons held in front of them in ready position. Sálea lost count of how many Thalmor passed them till eventually, all they could hear was the fading sound of their armor in the distance.
Sálea pulled herself up and out of the bush, brushing her hair out of her face, winching. Lydia was still watching the Thalmor soldiers and she sighed. Damn it Lydia, next time don't push me into a thorn bush!
Lydia turned to her, a frown on her face. "I suggest, that we forego hunting down a word wall, and return to Whiterun as fast as possible."
Sálea sighed and nodded. It was really the only course of action, it seemed. With a groan, Sálea fought the bush and escaped with a multitude of thorns. A thought occurred to her and Sálea internally whined.
How many thorns were in her ass?