Victory or Sovngarde

Chapter Thirty-Nine

At long last, we'd be able to see our loved ones again. Even though it had only been a day since the end of the bloody conflict, I couldn't wait any longer to hold my children once again.

Our remaining soldiers had done an amazing job of cleaning the streets. The blood had been soaked away, the bodies cleaned and currently on their way to various Holds for their families to bury. The Thalmor were long gone, marching across Skyrim to the nearest port, where ships waited to take them back to their own home. Never again would they come to scourge us.

Still, not everything could escape change. The marketplace stalls were in disarray, the lampposts outside of shops scuffed and scorched, and the front gates were burnt beyond repair. We had double the number of guards posted at the city's entrance, to make sure no bandits got any bright ideas while we were waiting for the next gate to be rebuilt.

The stables, too, had been harmed, but nothing that couldn't be fixed. Standing in front of the stalls, I glanced over the nicks and burn marks in the wooden siding, thankful that Whiterun had fared better than we could've hoped. The Thalmor hadn't been concerned with burning the city down with us still in it. They must've been counting on their war machines, but the gods had shown us favor and destroyed them.

"The trees will regrow," murmured Vilkas, nodding toward the bald patches in the forest between us and Riverwood. "The forest will come back strong."

"I know," I replied as I took his hand in mine. "I can see the wagons."

It didn't take long for the rest of Whiterun's soldiers to spot the carts carrying their families closer and closer to our home. Men and women around me whispered, danced in place, held onto each other with the anticipation of seeing their loved ones again.

Just in front of me, Sofie gripped Eirik's hand until the poor boy's fingers had turned as white as his sweetheart's hair. No doubt, they were nervous to see what Eorlund and Fralia would say about their budding romance. They could handle whatever came their way. They were Companions, after all.

Even I had butterflies in my stomach. Not only would my children be on their way back to us, but we were going to meet our new niece or nephew. I only hoped Farkas had made it in time to witness the birth of his third child.

I spotted Farkas's broad shoulders in the first wagon, and he had his wife's blonde head leaning against him. On his other side sat Bria, and she had little Kale in her arms. Across from them were our children, and as soon as we saw each other, their little faces lit up.

It was agony to wait until the wagons rolled to a stop in front of us, but as soon as the horses stopped moving, we rushed the carts to hold our loved ones again. Vilkas and I jogged toward the front wagon and barely made it there in time to catch our twins as they flung themselves into our arms. I caught Jergen under his arms while Vilkas managed to scoop Embla behind her shoulders and knees, bringing her wriggling form into his chest.

"There's my girl!" he laughed, nuzzling his nose against hers. "Keep Jergen in line, did you?"

"He was brave, Papa," she said back while she wrapped her arms around his neck. "So brave. Auntie Tyra needed us to be strong for her when the baby came, and we were brave until Uncle Farkas got there."

"I'm sure you both were," I said, walking closer to the carriage as my burly brother-in-law hopped out of the cart with two of his children in his arms. Once his feet were on stable ground, he put Bria down, turned on his heel, and held his hands up to ease Tyra out of the wagon.

Now, without the railing of the cart in the way, I spotted a small bundle of gray wool in Tyra's arms. She bent down, kissed it, then grabbed Farkas's hand to ease herself down.