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Skyrim Page 5 - "NAKED! Naked naked naked "

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“Good evening, my jarl,” she said with a nod.

When she remained silent, still looking at him, he prompted her. “Is there something you have come to me for…?”

His thane’s expression lost some of its confidence, and she looked away before answering. “I, uh… you named me thane,” she glanced up at him, then stared back down at the table. “I’m not…” She shook the sentence away with an irritable shake of her head and started again. “The duties of a thane are… unclear to me, but I will do my best to fulfill them.” Her eyes met his again, and he was surprised at the sincerity on her features.

“A thane has no formal duties,” he said carefully. In truth, he had named her thane on a whim, as thanks for her bravery facing the dragon. If she had been more of a warrior, he would have put more effort into securing her loyalties, but even with the title of Dragonborn, it was hard to imagine this slip of a girl changing the balance of Skyrim. Plus, if the suspicions Irileth had voiced to him were correct, she was the sort of person entirely uninterested in noble and great deeds. “The title is taken as largely ceremonial by many.”

She met his scrutiny, not looking away again. “But not by all?”

“No. Once, the title of the thane meant much more,” Balgruuf said. The hold had had thanes aplenty back in those days, before the Great War that had destroyed half of a generation of warriors. “A thane defended the hold, and its people, against any dangers.”

“Like the dragon,” the thane mused, running her hands through her tangle of dusty blonde hair. Her Redguard heritage was plain in the color of her skin, but her hair and build told of a mixed bloodline. She reached down to her belt and pulled out a folded sheet of parchment. Smoothing it out onto the table, she said “I got this from Hulda, the innkeeper at the Mare.”

Squinting, Balgruuf leaned forward to read the crumpled document. A familiar signature met his eyes- his own. It was a bounty letter, for a small hideout of bandits that had been making a nuisance of themselves out by the edge of the westernmost mountains of Whiterun hold. “You plan to go after these bandits?”

“Ah, uhm.. yes,” the thane said, nodding.

He gave her an appraising look. She had managed to kill a dragon, and she would have Lydia’s help most likely. “You needn’t seek my permission,” he said, folding the bounty again and holding it out to her. “A bounty is for anyone to pursue.”

“I… know…” the thane said hesitantly.

“What is it then?” Balgruuf said, impatience creeping into his tone.

His thane fumbled for the paper, and for a moment he was reminded of how young she was. One and twenty, at oldest.

“I… don’t know what the bounty says,” she mumbled.

“What?” he snapped.

“I don’t know how to read,” she said. Her earlier bravado was stripped away entirely now, and she looked every bit the child she was.

Balgruuf blinked at her. A true commoner then; he shouldn’t have been surprised.

He took the bounty back. “If you plan to serve as thane in my court,” he said quietly, not wishing to embarrass the girl, “you’d do well to learn.”

She flushed and folded her arms defensively, not replying.

“The bounty is for a group of bandits camped out in the Bleakwind Basin,” Balgruuf explained. “Do you have your map? I’ll mark its location for you.”

The thane was rummaging in her pack for her map when the doors of Dragonsreach were thrown upon. Hrongar stumbled inside, blood-spattered and staggering, supported by a guard.

A shocked hush fell over the room. Balgruuf fought to keep his alarm from his face, his mind reeling over the possibilities. Aside from Irileth and the Companions, his Hrongar had no equal among the warriors of Whiterun. For him to return thus…

“What happened?” he asked quickly, rising from the table and hurrying down to the entrance hall. Irileth followed on his heels, joined after a moment by his Thane. Proventus, slower to move, followed after them.

Hrongar waved off the guard’s. “Damn bandits,” he growled, taking a step towards Balgruuf. Balgruuf caught him by the arm when he stumbled, supporting his brother’s stronger frame with his own. He was heedless to the blood that began to soak through to his furs, and the cloying smell of copper and decay.

“Damn bandits,” Hrongar swore. “Ta- The eight curse them!” He spat onto the floorboards of the keep, swaying on his feet. “We attacked in the dawn, thinking to catch them unaware. The first few fell easily- picked their archers right off the ramparts, and the rest came swarming out. We thought they were the rest, though they were too stupid to see the advantage of their position in the fort.” Hrongar coughed and spat again, and crimson droplets stained the wood beneath his feet.

Haltingly, the rest of the story fell from his brother’s lips. Their easy assault upon the fort had been naught but a ruse; a common trick. Once inside the gates had been shut behind them, and the bandits had swarmed down upon them in twofold numbers. Even then they might have escaped- the guards of Whiterun, well-armored and well-trained, were stronger than any scrawny bandits.

Irileth’s expression shifted slightly, contempt flickering in her eyes as she glanced from Hrongar to Balgruuf. A fool’s mistake, her expression said. Balgruuf suppressed the flicker of temper that flared in his chest, shoving it aside to focus on his brother’s story.

“They had a mage,” Hrongar explained. “Not some copper septim thug who could shoot a bit of fire while swinging his sword. The man summoned two dremora, and…” His voice took on a softer note of shame. “The fight was over. I killed those guarding the gate and escaped, but…”

Balgruuf took a slow breath, closing his eyes. A dozen of his men killed. A dozen they couldn’t afford to lose, with dragons lurking outside the city’s crumbling walls and Ulfric’s soldiers stationed across the plains, not to mention the Imperials knocking on his door and demanding support.

“Farengar,” he called after a moment, turning back towards the dining tables. The court mage had displayed his usual disinterest in matters of fighting, remaining at the table while the others listened to Hrongar’s report. At least he was making himself useful- uncharacteristically he had taken it upon himself to distract Balgruuf’s children from the scene at the doors, capturing their attention with little puffs of fire and ice from his palms.

When he heard his name Farengar jumped to his feet, lowering his hands and looking nearly sheepish. “What is it, my jarl?”

“Come, I have use of your council,” Balgruuf beckoned him, turning back to Hrongar. His brother’s face was pale and beads of sweat stood out on his forehead at the strain of standing, even with most of his weight supported by Balgruuf. His breathing was raspy and uneven, his wounds bleeding freely.

“Summon Danica Pure-spring,” Balgruuf said, not directing the order towards anyone in particular.

It was his thane who sprang to the task. In the confusion Balgruuf had forgotten her presence. She moved quickly, disappearing out the doors of Dragonsreach before any of his guards stirred to the task.

* * *

A plan was beginning to take shape in Fi’s head.

It was not the best of plans, admittedly. It was undoubtedly one of the more foolhardy things she had considered in her life- and for a woman who had once stolen the circlet of Jarl Elisif the Fair, that was saying something.

No, this wasn’t one of her ordinary jobs, but the entire concept of ordinary had been tossed out the window some time before. It had begun to slip when Mercer had double-crossed her, and deteriorated from there on out. Now she found herself Thane of Whiterun and Dragonborn, of all things.

If it weren’t for Mercer’s betrayal, she would have ran back to Riften the moment she was free of Helgen Keep. Who knew the stories he had spun when he returned without her? He could have painted her with any colors he wanted, and much as the thought stung, the others would take his word. They had become her brothers and sisters in crime, but Mercer was their leader.

Other opportunities had blossomed before her. For now, it was necessary that Fi the Thief was dead, a traitor to her Guildmates and likely the would-be murderer of their Guildmaster. Fiora Montague, however, had a much more auspicious future before her. The Dragonborn and the Thane of Whiterun… The first idea still made Fi’s head spin, so she focused on the second.

A Thane. A Thane had duties, just as a thief of the Guild would have. That she could grasp and cling to, while all else seemed like some strange fever-dream. The power that had awoken inside her…
Now was not the time to ponder that.

She banged the doors of Kynareth’s temple, until they were yanked open and the orange-robed priestess of Kynareth peered out. “What is it?” she asked warily.

“The jarl’s brother,” Fi said, pointing up to Dragonsreach. “He’s been injured. Badly.”

Danica Pure-spring’s eyes widened. She wasted no time in questions, hurrying past Fi to the steps of the keep. Fi followed after her, casting a glance at the sleeping city as she ascended above it. The braziers and the torches of the guards flickered away, casting a flickering glow upon the nearly empty streets. For a moment she missed Riften- no shadow there would go unused by some thief or footpad.

A Thane would not have such thoughts, she guessed, quickening her steps to keep pace with the priestess.

I wish I could put gifs in response because literally when I saw this I said "Dis guna be gud!" and proceeded to sit down. And I was right! A Redguard Dragonborn who doesn't know how to read? I love her already. The way you're tackling it is perfect and I am happily going to camp out waiting and see what will happen to that stupid Fort (That nearly killed me)

Eee I'm so glad you like it! The next part should be up in a few minutes c:

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