Victory or Sovngarde

Chapter Seven

"Good morning, Ylva," said Arcadia as I entered her store. She gave me a smile. "Can I help you with anything?"

"Do you have any potions my daughter can take? She's ill. Danica said it looked like the Rattles."

Her face became sympathetic at once. "The poor dear. I have something that will help, but you'll need to watch the doses." She began to search the shelves for something, until she came to a small, smooth, red glass bottle. "This'll last her for a week. Give her two spoonfuls a day, preferably with a meal. If she's still sick when this is all gone, come back, and I'll brew another bottle."

I took the bottle from her. "Thank you. How much?"

"Thirty."

I dug into my coin purse and found the right amount of gold. "Thank you again, Arcadia."

"Tell your daughter I hope she gets to feeling better."

"I will." I smiled and left, slipping the potion into my bag carefully. The sun shone warmly in the marketplace, making everyone walk with a spring in their step and a smile on their face. It was as if the citizens had forgotten all about the battle that had taken place only three weeks prior. The entire town was back on its feet just like that. There was no evidence of the combat, or the death, that had once filled these peaceful streets.

There were those still in mourning. After all, the Companions had lost two of their finest. There were citizens here who knew soldiers on both sides. Frailia had worried for her sons, but their names were not on the list of the dead. The Battle-Borns had lost some of their closest friends. But the time was coming for us to put the battle behind us and to move on with our lives.

I watched as Jergen and Bria chased each other down the paths, giggling as they went. Poor Tyra was trying to keep up with them, but since becoming with child, had found herself tiring much more easily than normal.

"Keeping you on your toes, eh?" I asked her when she approached me.

"How can children have so much energy?" She leaned against the closest post, a hand on her still-flat belly. "Getting some medicine for Embla?"

"Yes. I've got it. I just thought I would see if Carlotta had some fresh pumpernickel bread for me to buy. You know Embla loves her bread."

Tyra nodded. "That she does. I best get back to watching them. Who knows what they'll do if I don't."

"Divines be with you," I added with a chuckle, watching her walk down the path we had last seen them on. I crossed the marketplace to Carlotta's stall, smiling at her.

"Good to see you, Ylva," she said as I approached. "How's Embla feeling?"

"I hope better soon. I just got some medicine for her. I thought I would stop by and ask if you had any—"

"Pumpernickel bread?" She smiled and handed me a small, dark loaf. "Every time I make it, I think of your daughter."

I slipped her a few septims, even though she insisted it was free of charge. "You have two daughters to feed, Carlotta. Let me pay for this. Thank you for the bread."

She smiled. "Divines bless you, Ylva."

"Oh, they have. More than I could ever deserve." I nodded, put the cloth-wrapped loaf in my satchel, then headed back for Jorrvaskr.

In the grass by Talos's shrine, Braith, Sofie, Lucia, and Mila all sat and giggled like the teenaged girls they were. Those girls had grown up to be so different than they were when they were just children. Mila looked more and more like her mother every day, a true beauty. Sofie, despite being adopted into the Gray-Mane family, had developed the same silver-blonde locks that her older sister, Olfina, had. She had the face of a princess and the heart of a warrior. Strong and honest, yet kind to those she met. Braith had outgrown her bullying ways, and had blossomed into a beautiful young woman. It was no surprise that half the suitable men in Whiterun were fawning over her. I had been so sure that she would never have a husband, thanks to the way she had acted as a child. Lucia had been adopted by Carlotta not long after the little girl had come to Whiterun all those years ago. She had wheat-blonde hair and olive skin, and her brown-black eyes shone like polished buttons, not to mention the same heart of gold that her adoptive mother had.