The Price of Vengeance- A Skyrim Fanfiction

Eight: A New Path To Travel

The next morning, I walked into Ralof's room, only to find him trying to get out of bed. "And where do you think you're going, my friend? You're still hurt badly. Rest." Of course, he paid no heed to my words and continued to try and stand up, though the very act of doing so seemed to cause him agony. With sweat beading his forehead, he gave me a smile that looked more like a grimace of pain and said, "Well, you didn't think I'd let you go to Windhelm alone, now would you? The roads are dangerous-" I held up a hand and cut him off mid sentence.

"Oh please. I'm the Dragonborn. I've faced Alduin. I've defeated scores of dragons. I can take care of myself just fine Ralof. Besides, not to sound cruel, but in your state, you'd only be an easy target, and I'd have to concentrate on defending you as well. I've left some healing potions in your knapsack and your armor is next to it. Get well, and then travel. After all, a good friend told me the roads are dangerous", I winked at him.

He reluctantly grinned back at me and I kissed his cheek. He turned a shade of bright red, and I was thankful that he hadn't noticed the slight blush tingeing my cheeks as well. "Well then, you better get to Windhelm safely. And Ven?" I turned to go but looked back at him, to see his face serious and almost solemn. "Don't let doubt and guilt get to you. You've chosen a path that is difficult to walk. There will be others like that boy, but remember, there are soldiers like him who die every day on both sides of this conflict. To stop now would be to dishonor the souls of those who have already gone to Sovngarde. Don't forget your reasons for fighting, Ven."

I nodded at him and walked out. After paying the innkeeper for both our rooms and some spare supplies, I jogged towards the stables to find Cerys, my horse. Mounting him, I started for Windhelm.

Apart from a bandit who tried to rob me of my hard earned gold, my journey was rather uneventful. Unwilling to kill the man, I simply Shouted at him, and after my Unrelenting Force shout had sent him flying a few yards back, I was satisfied he wouldn't be trying the same thing anytime soon. As I neared Windhelm, I realized my cloak barely kept out the cold and cursed myself for not wearing warmer clothing. It is after all, the snowiest region in the country, apart from maybe Winterhold.

I stabled my horse outside the city and walked in, marveling at the intricate stonework of the old buildings. I went to the Candlehearth Hall, a warm cozy inn, and after depositing my bags in a room I rented, took a much needed bath, sighing as the hot water relaxed my weary muscles. I pulled on my thickest clothes, deciding that wearing armor in his halls would insult Ulfric's hospitality, and debated whether to take my weapons or not. Having been ambushed too many times in the past, I decided that even courtesy was preceded by self-preservation, and strapped my short swords to my back, after polishing the Dragonbone till it gleamed. I slid a dagger into my boot, and went to buy a new cloak.

It was late evening by the time I reached the Palace of the Kings, Windhelm's beautiful keep, home of the Jarl. It was my first time in the city and I already loved the place- it's well worn stone architecture was a marvel, and the people seemed kind and friendly. I had managed to buy a deep blue hooded cloak, edged with runes of black, that blended in well with the dusk. I could feel a subtle magical glow from it, and guessed that it improved my ability to sneak. Definitely a bargain.

But as I walked deeper into the streets, I was shocked to see that some buildings were rather ramshackle and dirty, standing out among the clean well preserved parts. The area was mostly inhabited by Dark Elves, or the Dunmer. Making a mental note to find out the reason for this drastic difference, I entered the Palace, my heart in my throat.

Jarl Ulfric Stormcloak sat on his carved throne, talking in hushed tones to a man with a helmet made of a bear head. As I approached them, they ceased their conversation and regarded me, the bear-helmeted man with a look of bemusement and Ulfric himself with a mixture of respect and satisfaction. I reached the end of the hall and I looked into Ulfric's eyes, before bowing as deeply as I could. The other man nodded at me. "Who are you, and what business do you have with Lord Ulfric Stormcloak, the true High King of Skyrim?"