“You don't owe me anything,” Liriel whispered, hugging him back. “You're my friend and you always will be. You just go be happy with Elisif and you give her a hug from me and tell her we sorted Ulfric out.”
“I will,” Argis said softly, letting Liriel go with a kiss on the cheek. “She'll be pleased to hear that. Listen, I'm heading back to the camp, never was one for victory speeches. I'll see you two back there?”
Liriel and Madanach both promised they would, and let him go. Outside the city was quiet – frost magic was being cast, but to put fires out, not kill, and Liriel could see kneeling Stormcloak soldiers being watched by unsmiling Legionnaires. They'd taken Windhelm for the Legion. Rikke was kneeling by Ulfric's corpse, saying a last goodbye, while Tullius was already ordering his soldiers in to deal with the bodies and get the place cleaned up.
“I should probably stick around for the victory speech, Tullius will want to give one. So should you,” Liriel said, squeezing Madanach's hand.
“Stick around or give a speech?” Madanach asked. “I haven't actually written anything, I hope you weren't expecting bardic oratory.”
Liriel laughed and kissed him. She'd never loved him more than she had today. Killing a man together apparently had that effect, who knew?
“You could come up with a speech off the cuff and it would still be an inspiration to us all,” Liriel teased. “I saw you in Markarth after the battle, you were amazing!”
“Yes and it took me weeks to write,” Madanach growled, pulling her closer. “I was still obsessing over it that morning.” He stopped, smile softening his features. “So you were there in the audience, were you? Was it you who shouted 'we love you, Reach-King'?”
“Afraid not,” said Liriel, not sure how to tell him the one responsible was a deserter from his army who apparently still carried a torch for the cause. “Hoping it was me?”
Madanach hesitated then lowered his head. “Part of me hoped you were there,” he admitted. “I missed you, Dragon-Queen. I wished you'd been with me. I will never forget it as long as I live, but I would have loved having you there to share it.”
Liriel placed her forehead against his, holding him tight. “I wish I'd been there too. I wish I'd been with you on that balcony. I was just watching you and... and I fell in love all over again. I was just so proud of you. Still am.”
Madanach didn't answer, just looked up and kissed her again.
“Come on,” he said gruffly, taking her hand and leading her out. “Back to the camp. If you're going to insist on showering me with compliments, we're going to do it in private.”
Liriel smiled, squeezing his hand. That was her Madanach all right – capable of dealing with anger, fear and fury but pay him a compliment and he had no idea how to react. That was all right though. There'd be plenty of time to celebrate. They'd won a great victory tonight. Nothing could touch them now.
~~~~~~~~~~~
The camp was quiet when they finally reached it, just as the sun was coming up. Outside, the dead of the Reach were being laid out on pelts, weapons and possessions arrayed around them while their friends and kin gathered around to say goodbye. In the distance, a slow, heavy drumbeat was thudding out across the plain and aside from the sobbing from those mourning loved ones, all was quiet. No singing, dancing, celebrating, nothing. It all seemed a bit unlike what Liriel had come to know about the Reachmen, whose usual way, according to Madanach, was to celebrate that they weren't dead yet.
“Is everything alright?” Liriel whispered. “Only... we won, right? Shouldn't there be a party in progress right now?”
“Yes, and there isn't,” Madanach said, frowning. “Respect for the dead is all very well but they're outside the camp, and the camp's quiet... I don't like this, Liriel.”
Re: Nightshade and Juniper 18.8
“I will,” Argis said softly, letting Liriel go with a kiss on the cheek. “She'll be pleased to hear that. Listen, I'm heading back to the camp, never was one for victory speeches. I'll see you two back there?”
Liriel and Madanach both promised they would, and let him go. Outside the city was quiet – frost magic was being cast, but to put fires out, not kill, and Liriel could see kneeling Stormcloak soldiers being watched by unsmiling Legionnaires. They'd taken Windhelm for the Legion. Rikke was kneeling by Ulfric's corpse, saying a last goodbye, while Tullius was already ordering his soldiers in to deal with the bodies and get the place cleaned up.
“I should probably stick around for the victory speech, Tullius will want to give one. So should you,” Liriel said, squeezing Madanach's hand.
“Stick around or give a speech?” Madanach asked. “I haven't actually written anything, I hope you weren't expecting bardic oratory.”
Liriel laughed and kissed him. She'd never loved him more than she had today. Killing a man together apparently had that effect, who knew?
“You could come up with a speech off the cuff and it would still be an inspiration to us all,” Liriel teased. “I saw you in Markarth after the battle, you were amazing!”
“Yes and it took me weeks to write,” Madanach growled, pulling her closer. “I was still obsessing over it that morning.” He stopped, smile softening his features. “So you were there in the audience, were you? Was it you who shouted 'we love you, Reach-King'?”
“Afraid not,” said Liriel, not sure how to tell him the one responsible was a deserter from his army who apparently still carried a torch for the cause. “Hoping it was me?”
Madanach hesitated then lowered his head. “Part of me hoped you were there,” he admitted. “I missed you, Dragon-Queen. I wished you'd been with me. I will never forget it as long as I live, but I would have loved having you there to share it.”
Liriel placed her forehead against his, holding him tight. “I wish I'd been there too. I wish I'd been with you on that balcony. I was just watching you and... and I fell in love all over again. I was just so proud of you. Still am.”
Madanach didn't answer, just looked up and kissed her again.
“Come on,” he said gruffly, taking her hand and leading her out. “Back to the camp. If you're going to insist on showering me with compliments, we're going to do it in private.”
Liriel smiled, squeezing his hand. That was her Madanach all right – capable of dealing with anger, fear and fury but pay him a compliment and he had no idea how to react. That was all right though. There'd be plenty of time to celebrate. They'd won a great victory tonight. Nothing could touch them now.
~~~~~~~~~~~
The camp was quiet when they finally reached it, just as the sun was coming up. Outside, the dead of the Reach were being laid out on pelts, weapons and possessions arrayed around them while their friends and kin gathered around to say goodbye. In the distance, a slow, heavy drumbeat was thudding out across the plain and aside from the sobbing from those mourning loved ones, all was quiet. No singing, dancing, celebrating, nothing. It all seemed a bit unlike what Liriel had come to know about the Reachmen, whose usual way, according to Madanach, was to celebrate that they weren't dead yet.
“Is everything alright?” Liriel whispered. “Only... we won, right? Shouldn't there be a party in progress right now?”
“Yes, and there isn't,” Madanach said, frowning. “Respect for the dead is all very well but they're outside the camp, and the camp's quiet... I don't like this, Liriel.”