“Dragonborn the High King of Skyrim is summoning you.” the letter read; much to my great loathing and even greater annoyance Ulfric ‘High King’ of skyrim which I use high king with very loose quotes wishes to see me. . .or from the wording of my letter demanding.
“Are you going?” Iona asks from the kitchen, stoking a fire in the stove to prepare dinner.
“Depends, think if I ignore him he’ll let it slide?” I burn the missive in my hand, walking into the kitchen. “Please tell Amila next time she wishes to buy me a house please don’t make it in the one city I’d rather not live in.”
“You live in a swamp near Morthal.” she reminds standing to face me the fire from the lit oven warming the room.
“On occasion.” I correct, leaning on the door frame I wonder who i’ll station here in windhelm to watch over my house while I travel.
“He’s not going to let it go.”
“I know, but hey if he keeps sending letters the couriers get paid and we get good fire tender.” I chuckle heading upstairs, the house fully furnished much to my relief. “You can take the spare room if you wish.”
“I could take your room.” Iona teases heading into what used to be the ritual room of the house, heading down to the basement.
“Uh huh and i’m an orsimer.” I call back flopping down on the bed; downstairs I can hear her moving things around and pulling things from the newly constructed store room
“Horker and apple pie for dinner?”
“If that’s what you want.” she yells through the floorboards.
“Please and thank you.” kicking off my glass boots I slip into bed still dressed in my mismatched armor. ‘Note to self get back to work making new armor.’ A few days ago my best friend Amila sent me a letter saying I have to come to windhelm urgently; I did and now me and Iona arrived to a series of notes the first handed to us by a guard saying to go to an old house near the Palace of Kings, then the second on the door of the house surprising us that i’d been gifted a house for my birthday. We’d moved from Whiterun to Windhelm since my jobs for the area are piling up and it would make traveling home easier than to track back to one of my other houses. Unfortunately this also means that I get to be in the same city as lord almighty himself despite the war not being over.
Tired from the move I quickly doze off the sun setting on the horizon only to be awoken a few hours later with a heavy knocking on the door.
“Iona-” I groan pulling the linen blanket over my head.
“I got it!” I calls up to me as I turn over in bed stripping myself of my armor, buckles and latches;catch on the blanket while plates nearly tear holes in the bed. I can hear Iona talking with someone downstairs before she knocks on the wall a signal telling me to come down.
‘Great and I just got undressed.’ I sigh internally pulling a simple green dress over my head from the wardrobe before heading downstairs.
“What?” I snap, two guards standing at the door alongside, some mustached old man wearing what should be horrendously colored jesters clothes. “Who the fuck are you?” my Iona setting the table.
“I am Jorleif.” the man says “Ulfric has sent me to collect you.”
“Tell him I’m tired and unless he can fix the crisis of vampires, werewolves, dragons and walking undead; then i’m not interested.” I sigh; sitting on the staircase glaring at the three men on my stoop. “Begone your letting the cold air in.” I can feel one of the guards glare at me from behind her mask, as the three refuse to leave.
“I have been sent to collect you dragonborn.” he says again Iona rolling her eyes at his demand; with a heavy sigh I make my way over to the door, Jorleif turning on his heel to lead the way.
“Tell the king to cram it where auriel don’t shine it.” I say slamming the door in their collective faces. “Is dinner ready yet?”
“Yes.” she says setting the last of the silverware; armored footsteps grow more distant as my unwanted guests head back to their king. “As kind as ever.” she chuckles filling my bowl with chicken and apple soup.
“I was sleeping, they had no right to wake me.” I say in a haughty tone sticking my nose in the air “A lady like me needs her rest.” she shakes her head smirking at my imitation of a high blue blooded noble.
“Just eat your dinner.” she grins serving up some horker with caramelized apple slices, the night wears on with little else happening Iona preparing me a bath before cleaning up the dishes and double locking the house while I bathe; the wind outside starting to stir up the snowflakes of Windhelm’s constant snowfall.
‘I wonder how far the bandit cave is from here.’ I muse tapping my fingers on the edge of the large wooden tub ‘Should probably get some extra supplies before we go.’ steam rises from the bath as a knock comes at the front door the sound barely registering with me.
“Hey, you can’t just walk in-” Iona protests grabbing the arm of who ever is at the door, the slight ruckus pulling me from my thoughts, my hand moving to my blade laid against the tub; eyeing the door.
“A nord can not refuse a summon from the rightful king of skyrim.” I hear a gruff voice say as heavy plated armor rubs against itself and something else- something softer. “Where is she?”
“She’s busy you can come back later.” Iona says following the man through the house; the two and what I can assume are his entourage close behind six sets of footsteps thumping through the house above me.
“I asked where is she.” the voice says again as they walk into the potion and weapons room, I couldn’t place the voice but it was so strange yet familiar; an official something was all I could come up with.
“Galmar look.” one of the others said as the hatch to the basement was thrown open revealing me lounging in a tub, my hand resting on my sword.
‘Right. .Ulfric’s right hand.’ I smile up the group Iona having been pushed to the side allowing them all to see in. “Did you all come to welcome me to Windhelm?” I joke, the old nord as stone faced as ever; I wonder if he only had two expressions mad and pissed.
“She’s naked.” I hear one of the guards whisper to herself.
“Well I sure hope so, I wouldn’t bathe with clothes on now would I?” I taunt throwing my leg over the side of the tub.
“You’re coming with us.” Galmar demands sternly.
“Mmm, don’t think so.” I reply taking my sword and spearing one of the apples in a nearby basket. “You see dragons don’t take care of themselves, so unless you want to lose more than a handful of soldiers and land you’d best come back when I have free time.” Galmar couldn’t argue the fact that while the Blades were once again on the rise I was still the only person in the whole of Tamriel who put a dragon back in the ground permanently.
“Then when are you free?” he asks through gritted teeth.
‘The temper on this man is truly amazing one would think being mad so often would kill you dead; you’d be wrong.’ pulling sword back I take the fruit observing the bright red apple for a long minute. “About a month or so I have jobs to do, dragons to kill, vampires to roast and werewolves to skin so try again then.”
“I will let ulfric know.” he says slamming the door behind him as him and his guards leave, Iona coming down into the basement once they’ve left.
“Are you really going to talk to that blow heart?” she asks dipping my head back into a bucket to rinse out the soap.
“Nope, i’ll just make myself scarce and with all the jobs I have that shouldn’t be to hard now should it?” I grin enjoying the menstrations; “Anyway he’ll give up in time.”
“If you say so.” she replies, after a while I got out and headed to my room hair wrapped tight in a towel while I dry my body. For the rest of the night no more guests came invited or otherwise to ‘collect’ me for their king.
“Not sure what people see in him.” I yawn turning over in bed large cotton wool shirt adding an extra layer of warmth along with my blanket dozing off the sound of a raging snow storm howls outside.