The Last Dragonborn

Chapter 10

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When I returned to my chambers to prepare for the feast I found the dress laid out across the back of one of the chairs. It was a traditional Nord style, not at all what was considered fashionable by the empire. It was older, but no less beautiful. The fabric was a rich blue, with black leather laces up the front that would fit the dress to my torso, and the collar was lined with dark grey wolf fur.

I dressed quickly and twisted the top of my short hair back along my crown so it was back from my face. I scrubbed away all remains of the war paint I usually wore, leaving just some smudged charcoal around my eyes. With no other option to hide a weapon I slid a dagger into my boot. Ulfric promised friendship, but I had been fooled many times before. I wasn't about to step into a room full of Stormcloaks completely unarmed. Maybe I was being paranoid, but I felt very much alone in Windhelm and with a murderer on the loose I was taking no chances.

I stepped out into the main hall feeling incredibly self conscious. It was bustling with activity and festive cheer. I swallowed. I wasn't great in crowds or at parties. I usually depended on Mjoll to talk and mingle. She was great with strangers and often times would drag me along behind her as she worked her way through a room, completely enjoying herself.

A servant approached and offered me a goblet of wine, which I quickly snatched up. If anything it gave me something to do with my hands. I took a sip and someone cleared their throat behind me. I turned to face Ulfric and Galmar. Galmar was staring down at me as though he had never seen me. I didn't blame him, I didn't feel much like myself either.

I lowered the wine goblet and a slow smile spread across Ulfric's face. I fought the urge to squirm.

"Freyja," Ulfric greeted cordially but there was a knowing gleam in his eye as he looked my up and down.

I frowned, not catching on. It took me exactly ten seconds of looking around to realize the blue of my dress matched not only his banner, but also every Stormcloak in the room. Even the fur trim on the dress was the same silver wolf fur that made up his cloak. I was literally dressed to match his rebellion.

I scowled and he laughed. "Relax Dragonborn," he suggested taking a step closer to me so no one would overhear him use my title. "You should thank me. Now you may enjoy your evening. Everyone will simply assume you are the wealthy daughter of a loyal Stormcloak family sent here to woo me into marrying you." He chuckled.

"Does that happen often?" I asked.

Ulfric's face turned serious for a brief moment. "More than you would think," he replied gravely.

I stared up into his face, trying to decipher the fleeting moment of seriousness in his gaze before he got that infuriating knowing look once more.

"And none has successfully wooed you yet?" I asked unable to help myself. I tried to imagine Ulfric with a young, beautiful wife on his arm, but I couldn't see it. It wasn't that he wasn't handsome. He was in his mid-thirties, only a handful of years older than myself. Though older than most who did so, it was hardly too old to start a family. He was handsome and powerful, but for some reason I couldn't imagine the soon to be warrior king of Skyrim with some quiet, well-mannered aristocrat on his arm.

Ulfric's face changed into a roguish grin and raised my hand to his lips and kissed the back of it formally. "Not yet," he said with a teasing gleam in his eye. Then he moved on into the crowd and began conversing with several of the soldiers in attendance. Galmor nodded to me briskly and trailed behind his Jarl.

I blew out a breath I hadn't realized I was holding and downed the rest of my wine. It was going to be a long night.

At dinner I was seated halfway down the table from Ulfric and the other prominent people of Windhelm. True to his word, in this dress, no one would have ever believe I was the Dragonborn by the way I was treated. Only Jorleif sat between me and the soldiers at the other end of the table which told the other guests I was no one of any importance. For their part both Jorleif and Ulfric were acting as though I was what I appeared; the daughter of a wealthy family sent to attend the feast. No one looked at me twice. It was a strange relief to not be the Dragonborn for the night. I couldn't remember the last time I wasn't the Dragonborn or the guild master. The mantle of responsibility seemed to follow me where ever I went. I had never been young and carefree.