Survivor (A Skyrim Fan-Fiction)

Chapter Ten

The pyre was set up at the far end of the Windhelm Docks, a mass of wood, cloth and burning pitch, tied up so it was floating gently on the sea. Amongst it lied the body of Ingun Black-Briar, hidden beneath a large, red cloak bearing the sigil of Riften with its crossing swords.

Many people were gathered: family and friends as well as Ulfric stood on the wooden pier presiding over their well-loved deceased, while small-folk looked over the tall walls of the city, mourning over their Queen-to-be.

"Such a shame," Erik commented "she seemed like such a lovely girl."

Erik and I were standing in the small crowd on the far edge of the dock, only about ten meters away from the corpse. I had said hardly anything since she died, not even to Ulfric.

Once the act had been done, I went straight to my room and barred the door so no one could enter, particularly Ulfric. He would have heard about the death once either Hemming or a maid entered the room and spread the news.

This is the first time I had been out in days, lost in my guilt and grief for the terrible crime I had committed. I glanced to the Jarl, who was looking intently at the dead girl, no emotion breaking through his solemn face.

Maven and Hemming stood closest to the pyre beside the priest of Arkay droning on with his sermon about the early ended life of Ingun Black-Briar. Maven's face was hard as stone, daring not to crack in front of all of these people who would think her weak. Hemming looked miserable, but he was still not letting a tear fall for his dead sister.

It seemed as if the sky was mourning for her too. Its fierce clouds shrouded Windhelm in darkness, and its tears fell hard and quickly upon us all.

"And now, Ingun's mother Maven will light the pyre and send Ingun on her journey to the afterlife where she will gaze over and guide us through our lives for eternity. May Arkay love and keep her forever."

Ulfric gave a flickering torch to Maven, muttering his condolences. She strode over to the pyre and pressed the torch to the pitch so the heap took ablaze.

As the fire started to come to life, a small company of bards with flute, fiddle and lute played a sad, mournful song for the dead.

The visitors of the funeral looked on to the burning bonfire, watching as the flames licked up and engulfed the concealed body. A pair of guards let loose the ropes that were tied to the dock which kept the pyre in reaching distance.

It started slowly floating towards the open sea, gently bumping against the islands of ice. The fire was reaching high, clawing its golden fingers to the sky.

Now quite a few people were making their way back to their normal lives, leaving only a small group left. To my surprise even Maven left, dragging a reluctant Hemming along too. All who remained were Erik and I, Ulfric, and some other relatives who I didn't know.

The rain still plummeted to the ground in hard, quick and heavy droplets, soaking us through and through.

"I'm going to make my leave. This rain is not likely to stop," Erik sighed.

"I'll stay here," I replied shortly, staring out to sea.

He went silently, but I have no idea which direction he went. I was focused on the bonfire sailing off into the distance, leaving a trail of dark smoke behind. I jumped in surprise when I felt a large hand grasp my shoulder gently.

"It had to be done," Ulfric said sympathetically. "If there were any other choice, I would have taken it without a thought."

I was still in no mood to talk to him, or anybody for that matter. I didn't know what to say mostly. So I carried on staring out to sea, the pyre now out of sight, hypnotized by the movement of the waves.