Daughter to Dragons- a Skyrim inspired fantasy

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Nineteen

The city of Windhelm was the oldest city in all of Skyrim. Looking at the great stone walls guarding the city, you could easily see the ancient magnificence shining through the crumbling layers of rock.

To me, its beauty was rivaled only by the Imperial City herself. But unlike the Imperial City, Windhelm was built by the blood and sweat of mankind. Unlike the Imperial City, this is the work of true human ingenuity. Magic had no part in the creation of this city, a fact the Nords took great pride in.

The three of us walked down the great bridge leading to the entrance of the city. Guards stood high atop the walls, peering down onto the bridge, each bearing the sigil of the city: the white bear on a forest of green. It was a sight I had not realized how much I had missed.

A cool breeze whipped through me, sending my hair back and around my face, like a dancer's cloth. I tasted the air. A northern snow would be upon us within two days, I could feel it.

"So this is Windhelm," Rhythe said as he gazed all around. He curiously watched a man and a boy leading a stout looking horse across the bridge. Northern horses were very distinguishable with their thick bodies, thick coats, and thick manes. I doubted he had ever seen a well-bred northern horse in his life.

"This is Windhelm," I said with a smile. I glanced over at Vulfa, who seemed thoroughly unimpressed. She just rolled her eyes and kept moving forward.

I looked ahead and saw the great city gates standing wide open with a handful of guards positioned on either side, scanning the scores of people entering and exiting the city for any sign of foul play. Elves in particular, I noticed, were under harsher scrutiny. It was hardly surprising considering the city's history with elves and the people's rather xenophobic outlook.

We passed uninterrupted into the city. As soon as I set foot onto the stones, my breath caught in my throat. Everything was as it had been when I watched this scene fade into the distance as I left with my father to venture into Cyrodiil under the request of High King Ulfric Stormcloak.

Now I was returning alone. I glanced at my companions, both of whom were taking in the sights of the city, paying no attention to me. Well, not alone, I decided.

"Candlehearth Hall," I said, pointing ahead to a large stone building with grey smoke billowing out the stop of it. "Get a couple of rooms there," I told them. "I'll meet up with you soon."

Rhythe frowned at me, curious. "You aren't joining us?"

I gave him a comforting smile. "I'll meet up with you soon, I promise. There are just a few thing I have to take care of." I looked them up and down. "Be sure to get cleaned up, too. You'll want to look presentable."

Vulfa narrowed her eyes in suspicion. "Presentable? What for?"

I flashed a cool smile at her. "You get to meet the King of Skyrim."

***

Not for the first time I was thankful that a second Radiant Raiment opened up in Windhelm. What clothes I had were good and well for trekking across Skyrim, but not for meeting with a king.

I adjusted the fur pauldrons over my shoulders as the young Nord girl tailored the hem of my dress. She hummed some song under her breath while I admired the raiment in the mirror. My long blonde hair had been drawn up in a soft and regal twist.

The shopkeeper, an old Imperial woman, appeared behind me, her dark colored eyes scrutinizing the young girl's work. "Quit that humming, Ansird," she scolded. Her sour face quickly turned sweet as she caught my gaze. "Sorry about my girl," she said, her voice sickly sweet. "Her head's full of air, but she has good hands."