Victory or Sovngarde

Chapter Twenty-Two

Inside the Palace's walls, men and women of all ages celebrated our victory in Windhelm. Soldiers mingled, drank, and sang at the top of their voices. Their revelings had even spilled into the streets; the townsfolk had brought out kegs of mead and slabs of food, gathering around the braziers for warmth as they raised their cups in victory.

I stood on the outside of it all, atop a balcony overlooking the square below. Behind me, the sounds of merry-making disappeared into the night's chilly air. I was alone for the moment, and I embraced the solace that an Eastmarch's night could bring.

For the night, I had forgone my armor. It laid clean and polished in a room that Ulfric had given to Vilkas and me for the night. Now I wore fine robes made of deep blue and silver fabric. The breast of the heavy tunic was stitched in thin silver thread, with some ornate pattern that was far too intricate to follow. The leggings were made of thick black leather, and they fit me perfectly. My wolfskin cloak still hung from my shoulders, and around my feet were boots made of supple black leather. Even my hair had been brushed and styled into a thick crown braid, and I wore a fine circlet made of silver with three sapphires set into it. I had never worn something so rich before; I did not look like a mere solider, or even a noble. I looked like a queen.

I leaned against the edge of the balcony, staring at the mountains far away. Beyond those mountains laid my home back in Whiterun. My children would be in bed by now, hopefully sleeping. My heart ached; I wanted so badly to be with them now, to tell them bedtime stories and to kiss them goodnight. Gods, how I missed them.

I reminded myself that after this celebration, Vilkas and I were to head home. I would see them again soon enough.

"Well, what's a beautiful lass like yourself doing alone?"

I cracked a weak smile, not turning to face him. "I'm waiting for my husband to come back with a drink. He's taking so long, I wonder if he's chasing after another woman's skirt."

He grunted, sounding thoroughly disgruntled. "I am wounded you'd accuse me of such things."

I turned to face him, smiling a cheeky smile. He, too, was dressed in noble man's clothes. His tunic was black, with blue accents stitched in. His legs were clad in leather pants, and his feet covered by leather boots. The warpaint around his eyes was fresh, giving his already-bright gaze a fiercer edge. Like me, he also wore a wolfskin cloak, but unlike mine, his came directly from Ulfric's wardrobe. The newly-throned Jarl had insisted that Vilkas look just as regal as I did. He would not listen to our protests.

"Don't get your undergarments in a twist, love. I was just teasing." I plucked the mug of ale out of his hand and took a sip. "They're beautiful, aren't they?"

Vilkas joined me at the railing, his own mug balanced on the wall. "The stars? Yes, they are. They're... brighter here somehow, like diamonds."

"Mama and Papa and I used to stargaze on summer nights. We'd lay out on one of Mama's quilts, munch on carrots or apples, and Papa would point out pictures. He used to tell me that the pictures he pointed out were the shapes of the gods, and that was how they watched over us and kept us safe."

"Is it hard for you to be back here?"

I shook my head, even though that was not really true. "It's been years. While I'll never fully get over the loss, I've recovered as much as anyone can." I raised my mug to my lips and took a deep drink. The ale ran down my throat like liquid fire, settling warmly in my stomach. "There's something I need to show you, but it's too late now. We need to leave first thing in the morning."

"Where are we going?"

"Not far. I would like to go now, but I doubt Ulfric would let me leave this late."