Victory or Sovngarde

Chapter Forty

The chefs had spent the morning laboring over their fires and ovens, cooking various kinds of rabbit and pheasant stew, roasting lamb and pig over a spit, toasting vegetables like leeks and carrots in pots, and baking copious amounts of the delicious, buttery rolls that flaked apart when they touched my tongue. I had already sampled just about everything they had to offer, even the fruits arranged in little bowls around the roasted pig, but with my stomach filling up, I had decided to pace myself by dunking pieces of the rolls in my leftover stew.

"Politicians," I grumbled around a mouthful of bread. "Damn them to Oblivion. I could've ended the talks the moment they started if I'd just thrown my support at someone and been done with it."

"But you know that's not what's right for Skyrim." Vilkas reached across our small table and took my hands in his. "Have you made up your mind?"

I nodded, swallowing hard. So hard, I needed to take a drink of water. Somehow, the bread had turned to mush inside my throat and threatened to choke me.

"Then, the next round of talks should take much less time." My husband leaned back in his chair, looking up at the sky above us.

I was thankful to find tables set up outside the Blue Palace, in the courtyard in front of the door. The Jarls had elected to stay inside, as had Solitude's Thanes, but the stewards who had traveled with their rulers seemed to be content to enjoy the beautiful weather Haafingar had to offer.

"There's supposed to be a ball tomorrow night," he added, "celebrating the High King or Queen. After the coronation, I think."

Well, at least I knew the Moot was on a tight schedule. This wouldn't happen tomorrow.

"I guess that means I'll need a dress," I laughed, thinking about the Radiant Raiment sisters. Oh, they'd be over the moons to dress me up.

He chuckled with me. "I already made sure I had my suit, and even the children were fitted with nice clothes. Embla loves her dress, which is unfortunate, because I think she'll want us to send away for a new one every year."

I shook my head, propping my chin against my closed fist. "Let them enjoy this. It's more than we ever could've asked for. Our children will know what true peace looks like. We were born into a world of war, and it's all we've ever known. I'll be damned if I allow our children to grow up seeing the same."

"Don't worry, dear one." Vilkas took my free hand in his, bringing my knuckles to his lips. "You've sent quite the message to the world."

"What message is that?"

The grip on my hand tightened. "Skyrim is defended. The Dragonborn stands guard over the free world, and she won't let anyone come and take her precious home from her again."

He knew just how to make me fall in love with him all over again.

"What about Tyra and Farkas?" I asked as the moment passed between us. "Are they comfortable here? Bria and Kale enjoying their time?"

"We're all thrilled to be here," he replied. "You can tell we're all unaccustomed to the nicer things in life. We must look so strange."

"We're Companions. If we look strange to everyone else, we bash their faces in."

He laughed. "That much is true, wife. Farkas almost got in an altercation with one of the vendors in the marketplace. Apparently, the man claimed the mead he peddled was better than even Jorrvaskr's reserves, and, well, my brother took that as a slight on his honor."

It was my turn to laugh. Count on Farkas to defend the Companions, in every battle, great or small. "I'll be glad when I can enjoy my time with you. Tomorrow night, I won't leave your side."