The Last Dragonborn

Chapter 7

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I stayed in my room for most of the day. I was still weak and sore and was content to use it as excuse for not having to face the other people in the Palace. I was sure rumors of my shouting match with Ralof had spread among the servants and guests. Not only had I until very recently been labeled an enemy of the Stormcloaks, but now it was well known I had lied to and broke the heart of one of their beloved heroes of Helgen. It was so much easier to hide.

Jora returned to visit me that evening. She flashed me a warm smile and curtsied respectfully.

I waved her off uncomfortably. "Please don't do that," I said.

She grinned at me as she stepped near the bed as though my discomfort amused her. "You seem to be healing well my lady," she said looking over my injuries.

I nodded, trying not to grimace as she prodded an especially sore place on my ribs. I didn't need her to realize the extent of my injuries. I needed to get back on my feet so I could do Wuunferth's little favor and get out of this city.

"Another day or so in bed and I believe you will be yourself once more," Jora sat back and appraised me for a moment. "The injuries themselves are healing although you exhaustion level is concerning. As is you nutrition..."

I cleared my throat. "Well, life on the road doesn't always guarantee a warm bed or a hot meal," my tone was a little sharper than I had intended, but I didn't appreciate the lecture. I was well aware my life was less than ideal, but I never asked to be Dragonborn and things hadn't been easy.

"I imagine so," Jora said, she dipped her chin and backed towards the door. "Try to get some sleep Milady," she said with a cutesy.

"Thank you," I called after her but she had already closed the door behind her. I flopped back on the bed. I was sick of being stuck here in this place, but I also couldn't seem to stop chasing everyone who came to see me out of the room like some kind of cave troll.

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The next morning I slipped out of bed. There was a meal sitting on the table beside the bed and I ate quickly. Jora had suggested I remain in bed for a whole day more, but she clearly didn't know me very well. I frowned as I looked down at the chair beside my bed where my knapsack was sitting. Someone had been thoughtful to go to my room at Candlehearth Hall and bring my things here. I wondered who I needed to thank for that.

My armor was also still sitting on a chair near the fire. I frowned, clearly everyone knew the Dragonborn was in the Palace of the Kings and several had seen my face but I didn't see any reason to continue to advertise who I was.

I was wearing a loose fitting shift that I sincerely hoped Jora had dressed me in. I folded it neatly and laid it over the arm of the chair. Looking down at myself my body was riddled with bruises and old scars. It was no wonder Jora was concerned. I pulled on my leggings and the blue linen shirt I usually wore beneath my armor, thankful someone had washed them.

My armor was sitting near the fire and was warm to the touch. Sitting beside it was my ebony dagger, but there was no sign of my swords. I was just pulling on the gloves of my nightingale armor when there was a soft knock at the door.

"Come in," I called turning to face the door.

An elderly man stood awkwardly in the doorway. "Beg pardon Mi'lady," he said bowing his head respectfully. "I just come for the dishes if you're finished," he said gesturing to the small table.

"I am," I said stepping out of his way. "Thank you, breakfast was wonderful," I wasn't any more comfortable being served in this manner than I had been with Jora's curtsies. "What's your name?"