Rise of House Sigeweald Book One (Skyrim Fanfiction)

Chapter Five: Put My Root Down

“Well done!” said Lydia when they were outside of Dragonsreach, “Not even an hour in Whiterun and you’re already on the Jarl’s payroll.”

“Is that a good thing?”  Elspeth was skeptical although pleased to have made some coin.  Xeri had seemed unimpressed by Jarl Balgruuf, but then, Xeri was unimpressed by most people.

“Yes.  He’s a good Jarl, if overcautious at times.”  They walked down the steps toward the Gildergreen.  “Are you hungry or do you just want to go home and sleep?”

Elspeth considered this and wondered if it would be presumptuous to ask Lydia if she would feed her while she slept: “I’m exhausted.  But I know from experience that if I go to sleep this hungry, I’ll regret it.”

“We’ll go to the Bannered Mare,” said Lydia and gestured toward town.  “So, you were there when they were going to execute Ulfric Stormcloak?  Was that…exciting?”  Lydia’s eyes were wide with curiosity.

In the aftermath of having escaped a dragon as well the Imperial army’s headsman, Elspeth hadn’t really considered the political significance of what she had experienced in Helgen or if anyone would care that she had sat next to Skyrim’s most divisive political figure on the way to his—nay, their—execution.  So, she thought about the question and wondered if exciting could possible describe her feelings—most of which, at this point, were not fully formed or understood.  Finally, she said, “Well, it wasn’t nearly as exciting as being there for my own execution.”

Lydia nodded along and then stopped suddenly, “Wait! What? Your execution?  What are you talking about?”

Elspeth turned and said, “I was there when they captured the Stormcloaks.  I was trying to stay out of the way but they arrested me too.  They didn’t ask me any questions.  They just took us all to the block.”

“Oh my goodness!” Lydia was shocked, “I’m so sorry.  Are you—I don’t know what to say.”

“I’m fine now.  Really.”  She wasn’t exactly fine but the look of distress on Lydia’s face was too much to bear.  “I should probably tell you that the soldier who helped me out of Riverwood was a Stormcloak.  I wouldn’t be alive if it hadn’t been for him.”  Elspeth looked away, unsure of how Lydia would react to this.  Runa hadn’t indicated Lydia’s political inclinations in their discussions but the impression she’d gotten from Gerdur was that Whiterun implicitly, if not explicitly, favored the Imperials.

“Of course!” She smiled warmly, “I’m just so glad you’re here—I’m grateful to anyone who helped you.”

Elspeth felt a sudden rush of relief upon hearing this.  As they walked along, Lydia indicated various houses in the city, in particular those of the clans Battle Born and Grey Mane, families with long, long histories in Whiterun.  They had been close friends for a long time and were now torn apart, having taken different sides in the war.  The Battle Borns favored the Imperials and the Grey Manes, the Stormcloaks.  As children, Lydia and their daughters, Alfhild Battle Born and Olfina Grey Mane, were inseparable.  When the division between the families became bitter, Lydia tried to maintain friendships with both.  However, since it had been the Battle Borns who took Lydia in after her mother died, she was closer to them.  And so Olfina pulled away.  It made her sad, although she used her position in Balgruuf’s court to maintain casual contact with the family—mostly through the family’s matriarch, Fralia.

When they arrived at the Bannered Mare, it was busy but not crowded.  Elspeth liked it immediately although she wasn’t particularly in the mood for revelry.  Lydia scanned the room and they were waved over by a couple sitting at a corner table—as if they were expected.