A/N: I'm so pleased to post another chapter so soon! Let's hope I can keep the ball rolling!

The next day in Whiterun dawned grey and cloudy, and Merrin walked out of Jorrvaskr with a basket on her arm and a list in her pocket. Fredas was going to be busy.

Her first stop was to Eorlund, at the Skyforge. Some sleuthing had uncovered that the older smith had an endless love for ham sandwiches; now she presented him with a fresh stack, and asked if he'd mind mending her chausses. Ten minutes of chit-chat later, he shooed her away with the chausses in one hand, a sandwich in the other, and a smile hidden in his beard.

Then came the market. Ustengrav was a decent stretch, judging by the Greybeard's map; she was going to need more supplies.

First she went to Anoriath, for dried strips of beef and venison bundled together with twine. When he asked her how Ria was doing, it was all she could do not to pat him on the back.

Hulda was next, for some hard aged cheese and dark, hearty bread. She thought of Farkas coming with her, and bought two whole loaves. After that came Carlotta and Mila's stand for apples, carrots and pears. Carlotta asked her where she was headed while Mila counted her coins, and Merrin hedged with an easy smile, saying it was Companion's work. The market had started to fill and buzz around them, and Merrin had to weave her way across the square to Arcadia's Cauldron, crunching an apple for her breakfast.

It was with Arcadia that she did the real bleeding. Merrin winced as the skinny Imperial piled up her hard-earned septims on the counter, and as she nestled health and magicka potions in her basket, she cursed herself for not knowing how to brew her own. She had to argue a bit with the older woman that no, she didn't need potions for curing disease, and then left in a hurry.

She finished her apple on the walk to Warmaiden's, and there she was much more at ease. Adrienne and Ulfberth kept her chatting after she bought a fresh sheaf of steel arrows, and by the time she left the smithy, near an hour had passed.

Back in Jorrvaskr, she ducked into the whelp's room with all her new supplies, and while she stashed it away she caught Ria up on her plans. The smile Ria hit her with when she said Farkas was coming along had Merrin rolling her eyes, grabbing her sword and beating another fast retreat.

When she made it back to the Skyforge her chausses were already folded on the workbench, good as new, and Eorlund was peening a brace of steel daggers. The kerchief she'd wrapped the sandwiches in was empty, and she couldn't help but smile when she saw it. He called to her once he noticed her there, and in no time at all she was set up with the whet stones, sharpening her sword while they worked side by side.

It was a simple task, and while they worked, they caught up on their news. He seemed unruffled by her being Dragonborn; just shook his head and rumbled that 'now he'd seen everything', and that she would do fine. It comforted her in a way, and she was grateful.

He was much more ruffled by his own news. After the Thalmor left the city, Fralia had decided that the three of them were going to the country, to see Haldr and their sons. And of course, he was happy about it...but not so much the logistics of the trip.

'We'll hafta take a carriage all the way to Dragon's Bridge, an' then see about horses to backtrack south. Cost of a carriage ride is robbery, these days. An' the packing. Gods help us...'

He'd been worried about the Skyforge sitting unmanned, too, but apparently Kodlak had all but shooed him out of the city when he heard about Fralia's plan. Merrin didn't say it, but knowing that Avulstein and Thorald would be seeing their family soon warmed her heart.

They were scheduled to be gone by the time she and Farkas got back to Whiterun, so when she'd finished her sword and couldn't justify any more chatting, they said their 'good lucks' and goodbyes. Eorlund waved at her as she clambered down the steps, and she scurried back into Jorrvaskr with her chausses draped over one arm and her sword in hand.

She didn't see Farkas when she made it downstairs, but she could hear him; the sound of his unmistakable baritone was loud and clear down the hall, coming from his bedroom. He must've had the door open to be so loud, and it was all she could do not to laugh when she recognized the words to 'Way Me, Susiana'. His singing voice was actually good – deep and smooth – and she was grinning and shaking her head as she pushed her way into the whelps' room.

Getting ready for a trip was usually tedium, and this time was no exception; as the hours passed, Merrin slogged through chore after chore. Armor needed cleaning, and laundry needed washing. The bow she'd borrowed needed oiling, and the string needed waxing. Bags needed to be packed as best they could ahead of time, and rations wrapped up for the road. She had no idea when, but somehow she'd managed to poke a hole in her bedroll, and that needed mending.

She'd just stabbed her finger for the fourth time with the needle when Tilma came into the room, saw her wrestling with the bedroll, and insisted on helping. The older woman took over with pursed lips and blue eyes sparkling, and waved Merrin briskly out of the room to go eat a late lunch and take a little break. 'I won't hear any arguin',' she informed her tartly – and then shook her head when Merrin had gone, and chuckled fondly.

'Pity the socks on whoever that one marries.'

Unaware she was being laughed at, Merrin took a seat by the kitchen fire and ate a hurried meal of leftover mushroom and goat's cheese porridge. Then the laundry she'd hung out to dry needed grabbing, and she should probably take a quick bath...

By the time she was washed and as ready as she could be for tomorrow, it was well into afternoon and she was feeling tired, but accomplished. She was just entertaining the idea of reading in bed for awhile, when she remembered something that soured her mood considerably.

Oh, shit. Balgruuf.

She still had to talk with the Jarl – about thanehood, of all things!

She was dressed in her second nicest outfit and stalking out of Jorrvaskr, when she ran into Farkas on the steps. He had an empty sack slung over one shoulder, and when he saw her he grinned.

'Hey, you. Looking nice! Are you still shopping?'

She grimaced. 'If only. No, I finished a little while ago.'

'Looks like I'm doing things the other way around.' He jiggled the bag for emphasis, and then quirked a dark brow.

'So then, where you off to?'

'To talk to the Jarl.' She said it the way a person might say, 'to get a tooth ripped out', and Farkas chuckled at the look on her face.

'Still sore at him from last time, huh?'

'I'm sore at Jarls in general,' she muttered. 'I can't believe I'm even humoring this.'

'Humoring – oh? Oh.' His brows lifted, eyes widened, and he stared at her in surprised comprehension.

'You mean the thane thing?'

Merrin sighed, and nodded. 'The thane thing.'

'Well, damn.' He shook his head, dark hair brushing his shoulders, and then a slow smile broke over his face.

'If he ends up giving you a mansion, be sure an' save me a room.'

'Har, har.' She pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes at him.

'Glad to see you taking it so seriously. You're a real comfort, Farkas.'

'I try to be.'

'Pfft. Go buy your vegetables.'

His eyes were dancing as he stepped around her, swinging his sack off his shoulder and lifting both arms in a shrug.

'I'm more of a meat man, really. But I'll get out of your hair, either way. See you tonight.'

She huffed as he swaggered down the steps, and she'd taken just one of her own when he whirled back around, grinning at her.

'And good luck!' He called. 'Remember he's rich! Don't sell yourself short!'

She had to try really, really hard not to snort a laugh, at that. As she watched him round the corner and disappear, the corners of her mouth tugged begrudgingly upward.

Thanks to Farkas she was in slightly better spirits, when she climbed the steps to Dragonsreach and approached the massive doors. Slightly.

She had an annoying track record, with Jarls and their courts. Rulers in general, really. She'd had the poor fortune – or judgment – to work with several since becoming a mercenary, and with a couple of Morrowind's Great Houses, and so far they'd all been pretty much the same. Arrogant, entitled, and absent-minded. Pretentious and lofty. She supposed that's what came of too little time in a day, and too much money to care for manners or consequence. But that didn't mean she accepted it. Her last encounter before coming home to Skyrim – a job for the Second Councilor of House Sadras – left her vowing to herself that she was done with politicians altogether.

And yet, here she was.

She put effort into smoothing her expression as a guard opened one of the doors for her, and then she was marching up the foyer steps and into the Great Hall. A hundred burning candles fought off the gloom of the day inside, and as she approached she saw Balgruuf sitting in his throne. He was resplendent in red today, with a ruby circlet to match, and Irileth and Hrongar sat at either side. When he recognized her he rose from the throne, and Hrongar followed suit.

'Hail, lady Merrin. You've returned from High Hrothgar!'

'I have, my Jarl.' She lowered her head as she briefly bent a knee, and then stood tall with her back to the fire.

'Tell us, how was your journey?' Balgruuf stepped off the platform that held his throne and walked toward her, looking pleased. That was nothing to Hrongar's expression behind him, and Merrin had to stop herself from rolling her eyes.

'Not too long, thank you. And quite informative.'

The older man's eyes gleamed at that, and he nodded emphatically as he came to stand before her, and reach tentatively for her hand. Gingerly she gave it to him, and he shook it slow and firm. He was looking at her in anticipation, with heavy blond eyebrows raised.

'I'm glad to hear it. Tell me, what did the Greybeards have to say?'

Straight to the point, then. Predictable. Ah, well. It was probably for the best. With a roll of her shoulders, Merrin nodded, face impassive.

'Your suspicion was correct. The Greybeards have tested me, and declared me Dragonborn. It's official.'

Balgruuf's weathered face lit up – behind them, Hrongar actually let out a whoop. He grabbed at the amulet to Akatosh around his neck, and smashed it to his lips in a fervent kiss before crowing out to the ceiling.

'Praised be the Gods!'

Across from him Irileth pursed her lips, looking awkward, and Merrin couldn't help but share her sentiment.

'Right you are, brother.' Balgruuf nodded without turning around, and squeezed Merrin's hand once more a bit tighter before releasing it.

'Pray tell us, sister, what said the monks of your purpose among us?' This from Hrongar, who had hurried from the platform to stand beside them. He was staring at Merrin in open awe, and she had to bite back a grating sigh.

'Not much, I'm afraid. Master Arngeir tells me that some Dragonborn have to work and wait, before their path is revealed.'

She fully expected him to deflate at this, but he didn't – not even close. He just waved a large hand in the air between them and grinned while he shook his head.

'No matter. A shrouded purpose does nothing to dampen glory. The gods will reveal their plans in time! And in the meanwhile, we'll enjoy a mystery.' He turned to Balgruuf, still beaming, and clapped him on the shoulder.

'Won't we, brother?'

'We are living in miraculous times, to be sure.' He smiled at Merrin, looking proud, and for a moment he looked twenty years younger. Then he gestured toward her with arms spread at his sides, and raised his brows at her.

'Tell me then, daughter of Skyrim – have you thought any more on the offer I made you, before you left?'

She had no doubt he'd chosen those words on purpose, and stared at him pointedly as she nodded.

'I have, my Jarl. As a matter of fact, your offer is the reason for my calling on you.' Smoothly, she clasped her hands behind her back, and lifted her chin.

'I'm set to leave the city again, come tomorrow morning. Another task for the Greybeards. I figured if we're to discuss your offer, it should be before I go.'

'I see.' For a moment a frown played at the edges of Balgruuf's wide mouth, and his brows drew together. But then he schooled his expression, and nodded, lifting a hand to stroke his beard.

'Very well. Why don't we have a seat at my table and talk it over, then?'

Merrin didn't want to sit, but nodded reluctantly anyway, and he gestured to the long table to her right. She chose a seat, and Balgruuf, Throngar and Irileth filed around to the other side to sit across from her, the same way they sat on the platform. Balgruuf shrugged off his silvered fur mantle in a practiced gesture and then tossed it unceremoniously across the table, on the chair to Merrin's left. No one so much as batted an eyelid, so this must've been usual for him. Then he signaled to the nearest server for wine, and as she went trotting toward the kitchens he laced his hands together on the tabletop and met Merrin's eyes directly.

'So then. What are your thoughts, on becoming my thane?'

'I have several, Jarl Balgruuf,' she replied evenly.

'And I'm not sure you're going to like them.'

'Being the Thane of my esteemed Hold would aid you considerably, in your work as Dragonborn. Have you not considered that?'

'Of course I have. Just as I've considered how much you'd stand to gain with a Dragonborn from legend in your court.'

'There's no shame in mutually benefiting partnership, is there?'

'Or in flaunting one's trophies either, you suppose.'

The older Nord pursed his lips and eyed her beadily as he reached for his goblet of the floral red they'd been served, pausing to take a sip. Beside him, his brother and Irileth had swapped roles; now Hrongar was the one looking awkward, and Irileth battled a smile.

When he set the heavy silver down with a soft thump, they all stared for a long, quiet moment before he nodded.

'It's often how business gets done, in my circles.' Then he smiled, slow and cheeky, in a way that was somehow boyish.

'But I value a person who speaks their mind. Always have.'

Merrin lifted a dark brow at him. 'That's as well then, I guess. You'll get nothing different from me, Jarl Balgruuf.'

'Either I miss my mark,' he said mildly, 'or you have little patience for politics. Why is that?'

'Less so the problems, and more those that handle them,' she said plainly, and acted like she didn't see it when Hrongar nearly bobbled his drink in response.

'My experience with rulers so far has led me to believe them self-absorbed, with too little care for the people they employ.' She stopped to take a drink of her own, admitting to herself it was damn good wine, and eyed him over the goblet's rim.

'That, and all the pomp and fuss of the courts tends to give me a headache.'

It surprised her when he chuckled. But he did, before nodding again and steepling his fingers on the table.

'We have that in common, then.' He smiled. 'And I find your candor refreshing. Usually when I want the truth, I can only get it from Irileth.'

'Hey!' Hrongar turned to the Jarl, looking affronted, but Balgruuf merely waved a hand at him, amused.

'That, and my children. Though gods know, sometimes young tongues are too harsh in the lashing, no?'

Merrin thought of Hana, and Safni before her, and nodded on a flicker of amusement.

'But I'm rambling,' the older man sighed, and dark blue eyes grew keen and businesslike as he regarded her.

'Tell me, Merrin, what would it take for you to accept a place in my court?'

'Quite a bit,' she said flatly. 'And it seems like an awful lot of bother on your part to pursue someone with no political experience, just because they're a public curiosity.'

'You're much more than that, to this city,' Balgruuf retorted, and for the first time in this meeting, she heard an edge of irritation in his tone.

'Much more. I've heard nothing but good things about you, since you arrived. You've done capable work for my court, and now you bolster the ranks of our city guard, as a Companion. You are a benefit to Whiterun, plain and simple. Your blood is just...''

Merrin stared at him, unmoved.

'The icing on the cake, at your popularity party.'

His eye twitched, but she continued, slightly louder.

'And speaking of my jobs, and my blood, and the Companions, you need to realize how busy these responsibilities will keep me. If what the Greybeards have told me is true, then I will need to be the Dragonborn first,' – an internal pang of worry, here – 'and a Companion second, and everything else after that. Your court will be no exception.'

The Jarl huffed, and laid his ringed hands flat on the table as he leaned in toward her.

'I am not unreasonable. As Dragonborn and a Companion, your duty lies with all of Skyrim. I know this. But I've been without a Thane three years now, and dammit, I want somebody who's good for this city. You are that.'

She firmed her lips, and stared at him hard.

'If I were your Thane, gilt and trappings would come pretty well to last on my list. I couldn't be at your beck and call, when you wanted me to see and be seen. I can't even promise I'll be around more than not, let alone sitting on your platform.'

'I'm willing to be unorthodox, circumstances as they are,' he shot back.

'If you agree to be our Thane, I'll require you to make court appearance a minimum of two days per month, when you can manage them. That's all. Any special ceremonies can be discussed when relevant. Your other duties can take precedence, except in dire circumstances. Proventus will draft a contract we can both agree on.'

Merrin's brows had slowly risen as Balguuf had spoken; now she looked at him clearly off-guard, almost suspicious.

'...You're really serious about this, aren't you?'

Balgruuf scoffed, and his brows drew together in annoyance.

'A Jarl is too busy to waste his time on jesting.'

'I've no love for the courts,' she blurted out, exasperated, and lifted both hands off the table.

'But you have love for this city,' he replied matter-of-factly. 'Do you deny it?'

'Oh, for – no,' she nearly growled. 'No, I don't.'

'Then accept my offer. What do you have to lose?'

'Besides the last of my time?' She shook her head at the answering silence, and sighed.

'...If. If I was going to consider being your Thane – I would need all you've agreed to, in writing. A signed contract, like you said.'

'It could be done on the double,' he said swiftly.

'And I meant what I said, about honest opinion. If you want my counsel so badly, then you'll get it, and nothing different. I won't be cowed by the pressure of your peers into saying what they'd all like to hear.'

He stared at her pointedly then, and raised a brow.

'If I didn't want your honesty, Dragonborn, I daresay I wouldn't be fighting sword and shield through these negotiations.'

Her mouth snapped closed at that, flustered, and he continued dryly.

'And don't forget, with a place in my court, my peers will be yours. I wouldn't worry too much, about pressure. There are politicians, and then there's...something else.' Hard-headed dragons, apparently, he thought, and shook his plaited blonde head.

'This deal seems poor for you,' she stammered. 'I would need the freedom to go about my business, only prioritizing you when I'm able, mostly absent from your court...'

'Leave my concerns to me.' The hint of a smile had returned to his face; the wind had shifted, and the Jarl could feel it.

'Do you have any other conditions?'

Merrin felt oddly like she was grasping at straws now. But as she sat there and floundered an idea came to her, and she grabbed it.

'Yes, actually. If I agreed, I would negotiate the use of the keep's enchanting table, whenever I needed it.'

Unbeknownst to her, some time ago Farengar had come to haunt the doorway of his study, hanging back half-hidden and listening to their conversation. But now he made himself known with a squawk of protest that had the Jarl and his attendants twisting in their seats to look at him. Merrin nearly laughed at the look on his face, and internally a part of her flared with triumph; she didn't expect this request to be accepted.

'Farengar,' the Jarl called out mildly. 'Eavesdropping again?'

'I am sorry, my Jarl,' the mage spluttered. 'It's just – the absurd – I – '

'Take issue with Merrin using your enchanter?' Balgruuf cut in smoothly.

'Well, yes – she's only a layman, after all. Not properly trained in – '

'Well, I don't,' the Jarl cut over him, looking faintly amused. 'I pay for the table, and besides, she seemed plenty capable when she was pointing out your mistakes.'

Farengar simply gaped at this, and Balgruuf turned back around in his chair with a gesture that said well, that settles that. He peered wryly at Merrin, who was looking little better than Farengar, and tilted his head.

'Condition granted. I would argue I've been very fair to you, no?'

'It would seem so,' she managed, stunned and staring. 'The question here is why.'

He huffed then, a vaguely paternal sound.

'Come, now. Is it really so difficult to believe yourself worthy of a place in my court?'

'It is very difficult,' – she admitted haltingly – 'to imagine myself in a Jarl's court at all.'

'Well, Merrin, I ask for the good of my city that you would give it a try.'

For long moments, there was silence in the room. Balgruuf had folded his hands on the table between them, and was watching her intently. So was Irileth, her wine untouched before her, and Hrongar, his goblet long-since drained. Behind them Farengar held the doorframe, trying not to gnash his teeth.

Merrin was lost in thought, at war with herself. How safely could she flat-out deny his offer, once and for all? And would it really be most wise? She hated the courts, but she was no fool – a better deal than this wouldn't come around, if she had to take part at all...

Balgruuf was rich, and a Jarl. But she couldn't deny there was something different about him, than the others she'd done work for. A...self-awareness. A willingness to listen. From all he'd just said, he didn't want a figurehead, to sit quietly and nod. And if he ever changed his tune, she could always remind him.

For the foreseeable future, Whiterun was going to be her home. And she did love it...that, she couldn't argue.

She stared silent at the table top for so long that Hrongar started nervously drumming his chipped fingernails on the polished mahogany. And then all at once she grimaced, grabbed her goblet, and downed the rest of her drink in two gulps. As she thunked it back onto the table, she met Balgruuf's eyes and slowly nodded.

'...I cannot believe I'm agreeing to this.'

Instantly, his face broke into a wide grin, and he offered her a hand to shake.

'You won't regret it.'

As she grabbed his weathered hand and they shook on it, Balgruuf lifted the other one into the air and raised his voice without turning around.

'Farengar! Go and fetch me Proventus, if you please! Have him bring the ink & vellum.'

The clouds outside had parted as they worked, and the stained glass of Dragonsreach was shot through with sunset by the time everything had been settled.

Faster than she'd ever seen anybody write, Proventus had drafted a dictated contract to be signed by himself, the Jarl, Merrin and Irileth. No sooner had it been signed and set aside to dry than the steward had started drafting her a copy to keep, on smaller vellum. Hrongar had been sent to fetch her badge of office, and returned with an ornate brooch and cloak pin. It was a solid silver set, fashioned into Whiterun's crest, with the elaborately knotted stallion of the plains front and centre. Its gleaming mane flew like the wind, even cast in metal, and a glittering yellow citrine served as its watchful eye. The pin was fashioned to look like a sword, with a twisted hilt, and along the back in tiny letters were engraved the words 'In service of Whiterun, now and ever'.

It was beautiful, and that alone had Merrin feeling overwhelmed, but it had just been the start. After the Jarl himself fastened the brooch to her chest, he'd announced that as was custom for a Thane, he'd be having a set of ceremonial armor crafted for her to wear on high court days, and that soon he would have a weapon for her, as well. She'd tried to protest that it wasn't necessary, but he'd smiled and waved her off. 'You must allow me some tradition.'

What got her absolutely staggered was the suite of rooms. When Farkas had joked at her about a mansion, she'd blown him off without a thought. She hadn't guessed there'd be even a grain of truth to the words. But according to the Jarl, being a Thane in his court meant she inherited the use of the Thane's castle quarters. She had balked and tried to refuse, but Balgruuf was unflappable. 'Use them only when you wish,' he'd said casually. 'Or never at all. They'll stand ready for you, regardless.'

After some back and forth, a server that Proventus called for had taken her for a tour of the rooms – it had done nothing to assuage her nerves. A parlour, dressing room, bathroom and bedroom, all spotless and sporting high windows with ochre velvet curtains. Fine wooden furniture and silver service. A claw-foot tub, and a four-poster bed.

It was too much, for far too little, and as the server locked the door behind them and led her back to the great hall, she asserted to herself that she couldn't see ever using them. That helped a little.

But the most jarring thing hadn't been a thing at all.

When she'd finished descending the stairs to the hall, there'd been a woman in full steel plate standing next to Balgruuf and Irileth, and they all turned to Merrin as she approached. She was a Nord, and as Merrin got closer she noticed chestnut hair, high rosy cheeks, long green eyes. She put a fist to her chestplate as Merrin approached them, and bowed before sinking to one knee. Balgruuf addressed Merrin over her, and smiled.

'Thane Merrin Hakonsdotter, I am pleased to present to you the incomparable Lydia Eligsdottir. She is to be your housecarl, sworn to your service.'

At being introduced, the woman named Lydia rose to her feet, nearly of a height with Merrin, and bowed her head deferentially.

'It is an honor to meet you, my Thane. And will be my great honor to serve at your side.'

'Make your pledge before these witnesses, Housecarl Eligsdottir,' Balgruuf commanded.

She nodded, and in words that were clearly rehearsed the woman promptly answered, strong voice ringing through the hall.

'I, Lydia Eligsdottir, do swear my allegiance now to you, Thane Hakonsdotter of Whiterun. For the remainder of my life or your office, I pledge to you my sword and my shield. I will carry your burdens as my own, and protect you and all you own with my life. This all I solemnly swear; use me as you will.'

In the beat of silence that followed, Merrin bit back a sigh.

She'd never been comfortable with the idea of a servant – let alone a blood sworn one. She knew the housecarls had no choice but to be there, and it chafed against her own beliefs. But a housecarl was an intrinsic part of any high Nordic station. There was no realistic way to take one, and not the other; it would be like a farmer turning fields without a plow. Resigning herself, she nodded and spoke.

'I accept your pledge, Lydia Eligsdottir. Please, be at ease. I would see your face.'

Lydia nodded again, and for the first time since gaining her feet, she lifted her face to meet Merrin's gaze. It was an angular face, with a broad mouth, long narrow nose, and slanted eyes. She saw up close that they were actually a deep forest green, almost startling in their color, and there was an obvious intelligence in the depths. She looked to be about Merrin's age, maybe a touch younger. Right now, her expression was trained and neutral.

'As you wish,' she said quietly, and then dropped her eyes.

Perhaps the others could sense the mood – or maybe it was just experience. Either way, Balgruuf clapped a hand to Merrin's shoulder and smiled broadly at her.

'We're all finished now, Merrin. Proventus will have your copy of the contract delivered, at your convenience. Irileth and I will leave you two to get better acquainted. You're welcome to stay for dinner, but if not, I trust I'll be seeing you both soon enough. Welcome to my court.'

Irileth nodded beside him, sporting the smallest of smiles, and then they were walking off, leaving her and Lydia alone.

For a few beats, they just stood in awkward silence. Then Merrin took a breath, and forced herself to smile. She met Lydia's nervous-looking gaze, and lifted a shoulder.

'So Lydia, is this your first time being assigned?'

Ever so slightly, her brows drew together, and Lydia nodded.

'Y-yes, my Thane.' Her accent was more lilting than Merrin's – perhaps from further north? The other woman was standing stock-still, straight as a ruler, and Merrin decided to just be direct.

'Mine too. Really, Lydia, feel free to relax.'

'Apologies, my Thane.' Immediately, Lydia's posture loosened, and she looked ruefully at Merrin. Internally Merrin thought, oh boy, and shook her head, chagrined.

'No no, no apologies. Please. I'm as new to this as you are – to be honest, I never thought I'd be here at all.' Some of the nerves seemed to leave Lydia's expression, and she took that as a sign to plunge ahead.

'I know it's probably strange, but honestly, I'm not much for the courts and all their customs. Never have been. That's not to say I don't want you around,' she said quickly at the change to Lydia's face.

'It's just that I probably won't be a very orthodox Thane, and prefer it that way. Since we're here, there are some things I'd like to get out of the way, from the start.'

'Of course, my Thane,' Lydia said slowly, looking a bit confused. 'Such as?'

'Such as, you don't need to call me 'my Thane' all the time,' Merrin said quickly. 'In fact, I'd much prefer if you just called me Merrin, and I'll call you Lydia – if that's alright with you.'

'Of course it is, my—Merrin,' Lydia nodded quickly. 'Whatever you prefer!'

'Alright.' It was a relief, and Merrin let out a breath as she nodded. 'That's good to hear. I know we're going to be...master and servant, in title. But I think it would be better if we could be more just partners. Or friends.'

Some surprise flashed through the other woman's dutiful expression, and Merrin winced a little as she met startled green eyes.

'I suppose that sounds odd, to you. But honestly, the court traditions and their roles are odd to me.'

'But my—Merrin, you are a Nord.' Dark brows drew together in confusion – and then flew up in horror as Lydia realized her mistake and clamped her mouth shut. Merrin sighed again at this reaction, and nodded.

'Lydia, please relax. I'm a Nord, yes – a poor one, raised by a blacksmith in Ivarstead. I'm a stranger to wealth like this.' Wryly, she smiled.

'Please, ask me why the Jarl chose me for a Thane, knowing what I just said. Go ahead.'

Hesitantly Lydia let out a breath, and looked at her warily.

'Why did Jarl Balgruuf choose you as his Thane?'

'Because we found out I'm Dragonborn.' Her smile widened at the look on Lydia's face, and she nodded.

'Uh huh. That, and I've done good work for the city. That's the gist of it. It certainly has nothing to do with any background, or breeding.'

'Dragonborn.' Lydia was looking a bit awed now, and her mouth fell open a little as she stared at Merrin.

'So – so the woman who killed the dragon, at the Watchtower. That was you?'

'I had a lot of help, but yeah. That was me.' A thought occurred to her, and she made a face.

'On that track, there's another thing I should tell you straightaway. I'm a busy woman, lately. Between being Dragonborn and a new member of the Companions, I do a lot of running. I have no home of my own, really, and I have no idea how often I'll be able to call on you, here.'

Lydia's brow furrowed, and she frowned, puzzled.

'It would be my duty to accompany you, then. It's a part of my oath.'

Merrin hadn't really thought of that. It was her turn to frown, and she tilted her head, thinking.

'Huh. I guess you're right. But to be honest, I won't really need you to follow me all the time. I'd be happy to have you along sometimes, but I have shield-siblings, too. Like tomorrow – I'm headed for Haafingar, but I'm already set to go with a fellow Companion, Farkas.'

Lydia was looking concerned.

'If I can speak freely...Merrin?'

'Yes! Of course, please do.'

'This is irregular, from all I've been told. As your housecarl, I'm expected to guard you day and night.'

Merrin grimaced. 'Will you get in trouble, if you don't?'

'I...don't think so,' the brunette said slowly. 'Now that I'm assigned, I answer to no one but you, the Jarl, and hold authorities. But it goes against my training.'

Merrin shook her head, and smiled a bit. 'Well, Lydia, you'll have no trouble from me about it, and I'll see to it that the Jarl doesn't give you any either. The truth is, I've spent my life pretty much independent, and I don't think I could handle being followed and guarded all the time by anyone. I'm not made for it. I hope you understand.'

For the first time, Lydia's mouth curled at the corners in a tiny smile of her own.

'I think I do. Thank you.'

Merrin nodded, reaching out a hand to shake, and Lydia grasped it quickly.

'I'm glad. In that case, I should take my leave. I'm sorry for our meeting to be so short, but like I said, I'm headed for Hjaalmarch come morning, and still have some work to do.'

'O-oh. I see.'

'When I get back to Whiterun, I'll come and see you, if you'd like! We can get to know each other better.'

'I would like that.'

'Then it's settled.' Merrin let go of her hand, and had turned to wave goodbye to the Jarl and make her exit when Lydia piped up suddenly.

'My—Merrin. If you didn't mind, I would like to come with you to Jorrvaskr.'

The words took Merrin by surprise, but not at all in a bad way. Lydia looked as though she'd had to steel herself to say them, and something warm panged in Merrin's chest as she turned back to face her.

'Really?'

'Yes.' Lydia nodded, and though her cheeks were flushed, her eyes held Merrin's own.

'I would very much like to see the way you live.'

Well, now we're getting somewhere.

On its own, a wide smile bloomed across Merrin's face, and she nodded.

'Well then, I'm happy to have you. Come on.'

Supper had just been put on the table when they got to Jorrvaskr, and after a round of exclamations and questions for Merrin, Tilma had insisted that Lydia stay to eat. They took chairs side by side, with Ria sitting opposite them, and the Imperial had made welcoming chit-chat with the housecarl while they all dug into shepard's pie. Lydia seemed on the quiet side – reticent, and careful with the words she chose. But by the time honeycakes were passed around, she'd loosened up a little.

Most everybody not off on jobs had moved to the patio after supper, to enjoy the evening as pink and gold went to purple and red. The three dark-haired women were sitting on a bench watching Torvar and Njada spar, when a shadow fell over Merrin from behind.

'I'm sorry to interrupt.'

All three of them turned in their seat to see who'd spoken – then two of them looked surprised.

It was Vilkas. Dressed casually in a tunic and breeches, he was standing with arms crossed over his chest, and one dark brow raised as he looked down at them.

'Ladies,' he said, a bit curtly, and nodded.

'I don't mean to disturb you. I was hoping for a word alone, with Merrin.' At this last, silvery blue eyes met hers, and he tilted his head to one side.

'If you wouldn't mind.'

She stared up at him blankly for one beat – two – then shook off her surprise and managed a nod.

'Sure...hang on a second.'

She could feel several sets of eyes on her as she rose from the bench – especially Ria's. Vilkas turned as she got to her feet, and she followed a couple steps behind when he started down the path around the meadhall. He was walking a bit fast, so she had to try to keep up. She had no idea what to expect, when he came to a sudden stop halfway-round the building and turned to face her.

'Thank you for agreeing to talk.'

The expression on his chiselled face was pinched, and his eyes were intense as they found hers. Merrin gave him a wary nod, and furrowed both brows in confusion.

'Er...no problem.'

'Look.' He shook his head, slightly frowning.

'I know this is strange. So let me just get to the point.' He pulled back his shoulders, and let out a sharp breath. Then –

'I want to apologize.'

If she'd been surprised, now Merrin was astonished; if she'd been given an hour to guess what he wanted, she wouldn't have landed on apologize. Her mouth fell open a bit – then she snapped it shut and narrowed her eyes, at a loss.

'You...what?'

'Want to apologize. To you. For how I've acted.' Vilkas looked distinctly uncomfortable as he held her gaze – but hold it, he did.

Her immediate thought was to ask 'which time?' But she bit her tongue on the barbed words and shook her head instead, still disbelieving.

'...Huh. What brought this on?'

His face pulled into a hint of a scowl. But then just as quickly, he smoothed it out and sighed.

'Farkas. We had a talk, on the way to Solitude.'

Was this a dream? First she was a Thane, and now this? Her brows were creeping toward her hair, but Vilkas kept talking.

'He thinks I've judged you too harshly, since we met. And he's right.' Ever so slightly his expression softened, and he took one tiny step forward.

'Vilkas –'

He lifted a calloused hand to stop her. 'Let me get this out. Please.'

She fell silent, staring.

'I had my mind made up, before I even knew you. I still hardly know you. But I know enough now to see that I was...wrong.' He let out a sharp, gusting breath, and plunged both hands into his pockets.

'I'm sorry, Merrin.'

Holy. Shit. For several moments they just eyed each other in silence; Merrin looking stunned and Vilkas watchful. Then she finally schooled her expression, and quirked a brow.

'This can't be easy for you, I bet,' she said mildly.

He deserved that, and he knew it. He ducked his head, and one corner of his broad mouth twitched. It was almost a smile.

'Very astute.'

For a second, Merrin thought about it. He'd been a bastard, and she didn't owe him anything...more times than she'd care to admit, she'd imagined a moment something like this one, and relished the thought of telling him to fuck off.

But.

He also didn't have to apologize. She scanned his silver-blue eyes for tricks, and found nothing – only a grown man, looking ever so slightly sheepish.

Finally, she made up her mind, and sighed. Stretched out a hand.

'Alright, Vilkas. I accept your apology.'

It was his turn to look surprised, and it took him a second to notice her waiting hand and grab it. When they shook, there was something kin to confusion in his eyes.

'...Really? Just like that?'

She nearly snorted. 'Why so shocked?'

'You don't strike me as forgive and forget.'

'I'm not,' she said dryly, and stared up at him.

'I just figure we could use a fresh start.'

'For all involved.' It was a statement, not a question, and she thought of Farkas as she nodded.

'You got it.'

'So...' He dropped her hand, eyeing her carefully, and cocked a brow.

'Truce?'

A smirk hitched slowly over her face, and she lifted her chin as she crossed her arms.

'Truce. Let's see how we do.'

He did smile then – a wry, crooked smirk – and nodded.

'It's a deal.'

With nothing left to say, and both feeling sort of stunned and awkward, they mutually turned and headed back the way they came. As rowdy laughter and shouting met their ears, Vilkas glanced her way.

'Thanks for not rubbing it in.'

She did snort at that. 'Wouldn't dream of it.'

'I'll let you get back to your night.'

He didn't stick around, when they made it to the yard. Instead he made his way across the patio with grace close to Farkas', and slipped around Athis, disappearing through the double doors. Ria and Lydia were talking where she'd left them, and both looked up as she came to the bench.

'Alright, so what the heck was that about?'

Merrin smiled at her curious friend, and shook her head as she sat.

'You won't believe me when I tell you.'

But she did; Ria was just leaning into Merrin and starting with the 'see? I tooold you he wasn't so bad' when a carrying voice called out to her from behind them.

'There you are, Mer!'

She knew before she turned that it was Farkas. He had a bulging cloth sack slung over each shoulder, and an easy-going smile on his face.

'I'm all set! Stopped for a bite at the Mare, an' now I just have to pack. How'd it go with the Jarl?'

Before she could answer, Lydia turned on the bench beside her to look at the giant man talking to her Thane. Straightaway he noticed her, and after a second of mutual staring he looked back to Merrin with a shit-eating grin.

'Oh, damn.' Even from a distance, she could see his eyes dancing. 'I guess that's my answer! Thane Merrin. It's got a ring to it!'

Heat tinged her cheeks, but she still couldn't help but smile back. 'Farkas, don't start.'

'What about the mansion? Did he give you a mansion?'

'Did I just hear 'mansion'?' Torvar chimed in, and Merrin groaned.

Ria leaned past her to look at Farkas then, and piped up with a grin.

'No mansion, but she did get a suite of rooms in the keep!'

Merrin spluttered, as the two men exclaimed.

'Ria – how – !?'

'Lydia told me,' Ria said airily, dark eyes bright with mischief.

'They sound very nice.'

'I'm sorry, my Thane,' Lydia said, shame-faced. 'I didn't see any harm – '

'Aw, that's alright, Lydia – I heard Lydia, right?' Farkas drawled, just as Merrin started to remind her it was Merrin, not 'my Thane'. When Lydia nodded, looking uncertain, he transferred both bags to one shoulder and crossed the gap, reaching out to shake her hand.

'Don't worry, Lydia. Thane Merrin's bark is worse than her bite.'

'As if you know!' With her friends laughing all around her, Merrin stood up from her place on the bench. She looked Farkas dead in the eye, and schooled her expression into something menacing, even as her ears went rosy.

'Farkas Jergenson,' she said steadily, 'keep it up, and I'll lock you in my suite of very nice rooms and throw away the key.'

Farkas reined himself in enough to hear her; then he raised his brows suggestively, and his smile went devilish.

'Don't threaten me with a good time, Mer.'

Her stomach clenched into a knot at that, and she glared as her face flushed.

Gods damn it.

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