Chapter Text
Ralof: The Blue Palace
"Never thought I'd envy Rheanna having to fight dragons," Thunon said, dropping bonelessly into his seat, rubbing at his temples. "I'm not sure who's more venomous, the nobles in the Palace, or the guards Galmar left behind."
"Why compare a Frostbite Spider to a Chaurus?" Lisda asked, rolling her shoulders back. "Both of them want to kill you and devour you whole. Or, in this case, they all want to kill the Jarl we need to protect."
"That's a fair point," Thunon agreed, dealing out cards. "You want in, Ralof?"
Ralof shook his head, straightening from the door frame. "I'm going to go spell Bolgeir. He's too stubborn to rest but I have an idea of how to talk him into it."
"Don't envy you that," Lisda said. "Can you imagine how he's feeling?" she shook her head. "What would it be like to realize that half your actions over a, what, ten-year span? were the results of a vampire?"
"I'm more concerned with finding out how much influence Sybille had on Elisif. I want to find out exactly how much of what led to her keeping her position was a result of her own mind."
Thunon flinched. "That's a good point," he agreed, passing Lisda more cards.
"Why don't you two head down to one of the taverns, get some better food?"
"Get laid?" Lisda laughed.
"If that's what you want." Shaking his head, he headed down the hall, his smile slipping as his bootsteps echoed. I miss the woods. The air was perfumed here, incense sticks set in nearly every alcove, filling the air with pungent scent. He hated it, his mood souring as he neared the Jarl's quarters.
Bolgeir was leaning against the wall near Elisif's quarters, drooping with weariness, his eyes missing nothing. "Stormblade," he greeted, straightening some.
"Things quiet?" he asked, leaning against the wall next to him.
"They have been," he responded, covering a yawn with his hand. "The Jarl retired about half an hour ago."
"Good to know. Have you gotten any rest today?"
"Not enough to satisfy you," he responded. "I know what you're going to say, and the answer is no, I don't need to head to bed."
Stubborn bastard. "Oh? That's what I was going to ask?" he wondered. "Interesting that you know my mind so well."
"I don't appreciate your snark Stormblade," he snapped, looking around the hall, finally looking back at him. "What were you going to ask?"
He smiled. "I was going to ask you if you knew how long it took to get from the Jarl's quarters down to the main doors and back."
Frowning, he rubbed at his beard. "You know. I've never timed it. Why haven't I...?" he trailed off with a wince then gave Ralof a slight nod. "You're right. It needs to be measured. You dart down there first and I'll measure it. Then I'll go. And we'll get Lisda and Thunon to do it in the morning."
"Let me walk down first and tell the guards what we're up to," he suggested.
Bolgeir smirked. "Good idea."
"Want me to bring you back anything?"
"If you can swing by the kitchens and get me something to drink?"
"Yeah, I can manage that," he agreed, padding away from the door.
Each of the guards he told about his plan laughed, or looked thoughtfully at the door, the final guard frowning. "Don't let Captain Ironkettle hear your plans. He'll have us doing the same."
It would be good for you. "He won't hear it from me," he promised. But he might hear it from others.
Walking into the kitchen, he told the dark-haired maid who approached him what was wanted, and she smiled, swiftly gathering a pitcher and cup. "Bolgeir used to come down here himself, but we haven't seen him in a while."
"He's adjusting to a new schedule," he responded. "He's not used to having help yet."
"And he doesn't trust you," she said shrewdly.
"That is a complication," he agreed.
"For what it's worth, those of us servants who are left are grateful for your getting rid of Sybille. It wasn't uncommon for her to corner a servant if the prisons were empty."
He grimaced. "That's awful."
"But we're all still alive," the cook put in, looking over from where he was processing an impressive mound of potatoes. "Not like poor Ysona."
"Ysona?"
"Jarl Elisif's maid. Came with her all the way from High Rock when she was sent here to marry Torygg," the maid explained.
"It was obvious from the beginning that she didn't trust Sybille," the cook put in. "At the time we didn't think much of it but now I can't help but wonder if she knew what Sybille was somehow."
"What happened to her?" Ralof asked.
"The day after Elisif and Torygg left for their newlywed ride around the Hold, she was found at the bottom of the East tower, her neck broken," the maid explained. "Sybille ruled it was a suicide, said the poor girl was too homesick to handle living in Solitude. She was buried before Elisif returned."
Of course she was buried before... Damn vampire. "How did Elisif react?"
"She was calm in front of everything but sometimes I'd find her crying in the library. I walk very softly so she never heard me approach, and she hasn't had a close lady’s maid since then. She's had other maids of course, but they always complain about how stiff she is in private."
Ralof frowned, digesting the information. How much of that was by design? To make sure she didn't get closer to any of the maids just in case it would get them killed. If she wasn't influenced by the vampire... how isolating must that have been? How could she have trusted anyone?
The maid scowled, tilting her head and planting her hands on her hips. "You're a bad man, Ralof Stormblade."
"How so?" he asked, looking curiously at her.
"You're too easy to talk to. You just stand there and make the appropriate noises and ask all the right questions, and I tell you things that I'm certain the Jarl wouldn't want anyone to know."
"I've heard that a time or two," he admitted. "But I have one more question, if you'll indulge me. Do you know if the Jarl has ever been taught to defend herself?"
She frowned, tapping her chin, looking at the cook. "I'm not sure. I know she had a sword case with her when she came but it might have been a present for Torygg. I've never seen her wear a weapon."
"Thank you," he said. "I'd best get this to Bolgeir before he thinks I lied about where I was going." Need to see about teaching her some self-defence. Just in case she gets separated from all of her guard. I am certain there are still those who'd love to turn her into an Imperial martyr.
"You're welcome in my kitchen any time," the cook said easily. "So long as you continue to wish the Jarl no ill will."
"I appreciate it," he said, ducking out and heading back up the stairs.
Bolgeir snickered when he approached. "Did Erdi and Odar trap you in the kitchen?"
"If Erdi is the dark-haired maid and Odar the cook, then yes."
He laughed, accepting the pitcher and cup, glancing at the door swiftly then pouring himself some of the dark liquid. "Ah, forgot how much I enjoy this stuff." He set the pitcher on the windowsill and studied the cup. "You forget a lot of things when a vampire takes over your mind."
"You sure you don't want to wander down to one of the taverns?" Ralof wondered. "Have a drink or two? See if it jogs more memories?"
He frowned into the cup. "You know... maybe I should. But the running first."
"Of course, how could I forget?" Ralof said.
"I'll start counting now," he murmured.
Ralof darted away, moving swiftly down the stairs, pausing by the main doors and darting back, stopping lightly by Bolgeir.
"Impressive. I just finished my drink." He scowled, tugging at his armor. "Suppose it's my turn, eh?"
"That it is," he agreed, settling against the wall, watching him run, counting slowly in his head.
Bolgeir came back moments later, puffing for breath, pausing to brace his hands against his knees. “I am not as young as I once was."
"Still young enough to enjoy a song at a tavern with a drink in your hand," he said easily. Get some rest man, you're a liability to everyone when you're this tired.
"Still young enough for that," he agreed, grabbing the pitcher. "Best return this to Odar... you know, the tavern is a bit far. Maybe I'll just sit in the kitchen for a bit. That way I'll be on hand if something happens."
Baby steps, "a sound plan," he agreed.
Leaning back against the wall, he crossed his arms. Bet Gerdur is going to do a trek out to the Spriggan grove soon, see if they have any trees for her to cull. I hope she finds someone with a steady temper to go with her. Maybe Faendal if she can stop him mooning over Camilla long enough.
The door to the Jarl's room creaked and he kept his gaze straight ahead, listening to Elisif step partway into the hall.
"Where's Bolgeir?" she asked.
"He's in the kitchen catching up with Odar," he responded, turning to look at her. "Did you need something, Jarl?" Bolgeir said she'd gone to bed already, but she doesn't look like someone who just woke up.
"I'm surprised you managed to convince him to leave my door."
It wasn't easy. "He needs to rest more often," he said briskly.
"Yes," she agreed. "But why are you so concerned about it?"
"Why wouldn't I be?" he asked. "He's a good man and I like working with him." And I'd rather he not drive himself into an early grave.
She came fully out of her room, looking up at him. "Ulfric named you one of his closest kin. What is his plan for Solitude?"
"He named me that at the end of the war," he said. "But the last I heard? His plan was to leave you in charge because of how you care for your people." And because Rhea thankfully killed the only other candidate. Who rumor tells me was a greedy Imperial supporter who cared more for whichever side could bring him fortune. So, he'd have been a poor candidate even without the proclivities that got him killed. Pity the vampire didn't off him when she had the chance.
"So, you, what was your clan before?"
"I'm a simple man, Jarl Elisif. People know me as Ralof of Riverwood," he said quietly. "My sister Gerdur runs the mill there."
"Where is Riverwood?"
A pang of homesickness crushed around his heart. "It's a small lumber village just south of Whiterun." And Talos I miss it.
"I thought Whiterun was all tundra."
"Not all of it," he said softly.
"Do you miss it?"
"Every day, Jarl."
"Then why stay here? Why not desert and return home?"
Interesting question. What exactly are you fishing for? "I promised I would take on this task. And I'm not about to break that promise."
"I see. What is the Dragonborn like?" she asked. "I met her once and she seemed friendly but uncomfortable in the spotlight."
"That sums up Rhea pretty well," he said. "She's a dear friend and she'd risk anything to save a child in danger."
"A fine trait."
He nodded, reminiscing on some of the tales she'd told him. "She was a sell sword in Cyrodiil for years. You may have heard of her; she went by the name Rheanna the Bold; gained a reputation for taking jobs that offered less coin if there was a child in danger."
"Must have led to her being lied to a time or two."
"Yes. But she doesn't regret it."
"Did you work with her much?"
"A time or two after we escaped Helgen, and then more often after she joined." Why do you ask?
"What brought her to Helgen?"
"An ex-lover, a Legion soldier named Varuvo was at the border, and he told the guards she was a Talos worshiper crossing to join the Stormcloaks."
"Was he lying?" she wondered.
"He was. About her crossing to join anyway. She'd been crossing to take refuge in Skyrim as a known Talos worshiper in Cyrodiil. The Thalmor were actively seeking her out, and she had to run."
"I see. And do you care for the Dragonborn, Stormblade?"
You're trying to get a sense of my loyalties. Your tactics are different than mine, but I suppose I shouldn't be surprised. He laughed. "She's my sworn sister. I'd love to get the chance to fight more dragons with her someday. And when we die, we'll stand shoulder to shoulder in Sovngarde, face Tsun together and demand he let us pass."
"So, it's true then that Ulfric named her kin as well?"
"It is. What has you so curious tonight, Jarl?" Not just about my loyalties, but the Dragonborn's. I'm curious why you're so concerned about them. Do you worry Rhea would refuse to fight a dragon if Ulfric told her to?
"I've just been wanting to learn more about her. I only saw her briefly at the last Grand Crystal Ball."
He nodded. "A lot of people are curious about her." To her great dismay.
"I can imagine."
He considered the nearby window. "Jarl, have you ever been taught to fight?"
She made a small, startled sound and he glanced at her. Is that such an unexpected question?
"Why do you ask?" she wondered, looking up at him.
"It would make our jobs as your guard easier if we knew what you were capable of," he explained. Maybe she could learn a staff if she hasn't learned anything else. They tend to be relatively easy for beginners to pick up.
"I carry a dagger in case of emergencies," she said flatly. "That is all you need to know."
"Fair enough, Jarl," he agreed. It's not enough, not nearly enough, but like with Bolgeir, baby steps. He glanced at the window again, thinking longingly of home. Galmar said not to think of this as a punishment. That he knows I will be fair, that I will treat Elisif well where others would be cruel, but it's hard to agree with him.
"Good night, Stormblade," Elisif said briskly, ducking back into her room before he could respond.
He watched the hall, pacing down and back whenever he began to grow weary, pleased to pass on the watch to Lisda and Thunon as the first line of dawn showed on the horizon, timing their runs before he stepped away from Elisif's door. I'll swap back to daytime watches in a month or so, inflict the night watch on Thunon or Lisda. Bolgeir seems to prefer later watches. Wonder if that will change over time. Walking back to the tiny room he'd been given, he slipped in, checking it over automatically before falling tiredly onto the hard bed.
"It's been so quiet," Bolgeir complained, charging after the black clad assassin.
"That it has," he agreed, seeing Lisda dart out of a doorway opening to catch the assassin by surprise, slowing down, letting Bolgeir pass him. "I'll duck into the library and check for more," he said.
"Good idea," Bolgeir agreed, continuing toward Lisda and the assassin.
Just to make sure there are no more and then we'll figure out where Elisif hid herself. I don't like that she disappeared so thoroughly. Makes it hard to know if our task was successful.
He wandered the stacks swiftly, not seeing any signs of more assassins, whirling, reaching for his short sword, pausing and staring. Elisif was above him, resting her hands on a windowsill, pulling herself into the library through the window.
Leaning against a bookcase, he watched her, marvelling at how she'd managed to climb through a window in the slim dress she wore, watching her brace on the sill and drop in. Very impressive.
"Jarl, the assassin has been neutralized," he said, almost disappointed when she didn't startle. It's a good thing Ralof, it means she's aware of her surroundings.
She nodded, brushing a tendril of hair out of her face, her cheeks flushed with exertion, and he turned his attention swiftly to the windowsill. Let her regain her decorum and then look at her. She looks entirely too... human right now, and I'd like to maintain an emotional distance. "I thought I'd identified all the entryways here, I didn't think that window led anywhere," he said, studying it.
"There are a series of ledges," she explained, neatening her hair, her poise returned. "You have to know where they are to utilize them."
"And you managed to get out there in that dress?" he asked, pulling himself up, his shoulders barely fitting through the window, peering around the side, noting the ledges, marvelling at their narrowness. Brave. Much braver than I've given her credit for to climb out there. Impressive.
He dropped back in and turned to face her. "My parents insisted that I learn some useful skills before I move to Skyrim and marry Torygg," she said, temper flaring in her blue eyes, and she glared up at him. "He would have joined him, you know. He used to talk to me about how he wasn't sure if backing the Imperials was the right thing to do, especially since he was a Talos worshiper too. But Ulfric didn't give him a chance to choose anything but a duel. Torygg had no chance to win it, even without the Voice, Ulfric was the better fighter. That farce of a duel showed no true measure of Ulfric's personal power. It only showed him to be a bully who believes that force is the only way to win a war."
"You'll get no argument from me," he said, meeting her eyes. The Empire was far too willing to allow the Thalmor to work unchecked. Maybe they had a plan to one day stop it, to regain power enough to push them out, but how many Nords were they willing to sacrifice before they reached that strength? How many clans would have been lost? No, I cannot say I agree with all, or even most, of Ulfric's methods, but the Thalmor have lost power here, and that is something he made possible. And so long as he has Galmar to guide his hand, there will be less Torygg's.
"If you don't think he should have murdered my husband, why did you join?" she demanded.
Do you think Ulfric only started recruiting after he killed Torygg? Do you think the war was primarily about his wanting to be High King? Or are you simply lashing out at me because I am of Ulfric's clan? "One, I was a Stormcloak already. And two." He tilted his head. "Thalmor."
She frowned, looking away.
He glanced around the room again, satisfied it was still empty. "We'd best go out and let the others know you're safe. See if they were able to keep the assassin alive so we can get answers."
"We'd best," she agreed, leading the way, her head held high.
He followed, glancing back one more time at the window. If she's flexible enough to climb through there, maybe I can convince her to learn a light weapon. She says she has a dagger, but has she been trained to use it? I'd like to know she has a weapon she can use in case something gets past us.
"My Jarl," Bolgeir greeted. "I was worried sick."
"I'm fine Bolgeir. I was safely hidden where none would have found me."
"I am relieved to hear it, Jarl."
How did you learn about that hiding spot? If it's common knowledge I'm not so sure about your assertion.
"Anything from the assassin?" she asked, her voice taking on the subtle shift that he and Lisda had dubbed her 'Jarl voice.'
He shook his head. "Nothing I'm afraid. He had some sort of failsafe and died before we could ask him much. And he didn't answer the questions we did ask."
"Not unexpected, but disappointing," she said. "I'll retire early, I find myself in need of rest."
"Please allow me to clear the room," Lisda said, moving swiftly to her side.
"I'll take watch for now, you go take care of yourself," Bolgeir murmured, giving him a challenging look.
Ralof nodded. "I could use a bit of a break. Thunon, let's go to the tavern and get something to eat. As good as Odar's cooking is, there's not enough mead in the Palace."
Thunon grinned, draping his arm over his shoulders. "You're right," he agreed, walking with him down the stairs. "Not enough gambling either. Captain Ironkettle asked me to stop playing cards with the palace guards."
"Because you were bankrupting them," he responded dryly. "When did you get so good? I remember beating you often on the road."
"Simple, none of them are as good as you," he laughed. "Oblivion, half of them are worse than Bone-Breaker."
"That's pretty bad. Speaking of, I should send her a letter. Maybe I'll write one while we're at the Tavern."
Thunon snorted, jabbing his side. "No. You're going down there to eat, drink and play card games. No writing. No reading. Enjoying yourself."
"Whatever you say," he agreed, not surprised when Thunon led him to the tavern on the docks instead of toward the Skeever.
The tavern was busy, not unexpected, and they sat for some time before a waitress bustled over, her smile brightening when she saw Thunon. "Your usual?" she asked.
"Yes. And bring the same for my friend here."
"Of course."
"What is your usual?" Ralof asked, leaning back in his chair.
"it's a chicken stew, bit spicy, but very good," he said easily, dealing cards between them. "Now let’s see if you're still as good at cards as you used to be."