"Good morning, Ylva!"
I turned and smiled at Carlotta as I walked past her stall. "I'll come back to speak with you in a moment! I have to fetch something from Arcadia!"
Carlotta waved her hand. "Don't worry! I'll be here, with a fresh batch of pumpernickel bread!"
I nodded. "Thank you!"
It was a beautiful day in Whiterun, the first beautiful day in almost a week. Dreary rain clouds had kept the sun from reaching us, warming the cobbles and feeding the plants, but not on this day. I relished in the bright sunshine and fresh air. The free air. At long last, the mass of pilgrims on a journey to praise me, the Dragonborn, had left. I had the freedom to walk the streets once more, holding my children's hands and taking my time to say hello to my neighbors. Life in Whiterun had returned to normal.
Mostly.
I stepped onto Arcadia's shop and pulled Jergen and Embla along with me. Even though they had been inside with me before, they still gawked at the plethora of alchemical ingredients spread across the shelves. The shiny bottles of various potions always caught their attention, and I had to grab their hands a little tighter to keep them from running straight to the display full of expensive healing potions. I quietly reminded them that we weren't in the shop to look and touch, but to get a potion for their Auntie Tyra.
"But can't we look at them?" whined Jergen as he pulled towards the stand again. "Please?"
"No, Jergen. You have to learn that you can't just touch everything."
From behind her counter, Arcadia chuckled as I reined in my twins. "Have your hands full today, Ylva? Where's your husband?"
I gave the children a sharp word before turning to Arcadia. "He's inside Jorrvaskr. The children wanted to come along. I can handle them—"
Just as I said that, Embla broke free of my grasp and made a mad dash towards a small display case of various ingredients. Jergen took advantage of my distraction and took off in the opposite direction. I ground my teeth in frustration and went after Embla first. Thankfully, she had not done anything but get some fingerprints on the glass. She whined as I pulled her away, but I said not a word while I yanked up her brother before he could damage any of the displays. Together, they grumbled and talked back, their complaints falling on deaf ears. I gave Arcadia an apologetic look before taking the children outside.
They protested the entire way around Arcadia's shop. When I was out of sight from the others in the market, I let go of the children and got to my knees. "That was absolutely shameful. You both disobeyed me."
"We just wanted to look—" said Embla, but I put my finger over her lips.
"I know you did, but you have to listen to what I say. Those bottles are fragile. If they broke, the work that Miss Arcadia's put into that potion would be lost. The ingredients are fragile, too. Sometimes, even breathing on them can weaken their effects. Alchemy and brewing is a very delicate process, all right?"
Neither of the children said anything. They stared at their feet and clasped their hands behind their backs. Jergen shuffled a little, and Embla nibbled on her lip.
I stood up, grimacing a little at the popping in my knees. Maybe I had a little more recovering to do. Or maybe I was just getting older.
Gods forbid that to be the case.
"Run along home, all right?" I stroked my hands over their curly heads and gave them each a pat. "I'll return shortly."
I walked with them until we reached the marketplace. From there, they raced one another back to Jorrvaskr. I didn't turn until I watched them disappear behind the old hall's doors.
With a nod, I returned to Arcadia's door. Once inside, I purchased the proper ingredients and potions to help ease Tyra as she approached the end of her pregnancy. The healers had recommended bedrest as well as drinking blue mountain flower tea. At night, she was to take a spoonful of a weak healing potion mixed with powdered creep cluster for fortitude. It was quite a list, and it would take a master alchemist to produce the medicine.
Once purchased and stored inside my satchel, I offered Arcadia another apology on behalf of my children and left her shop. Outside, basking in the sunlight, I smiled. For a moment, I could forget about the war outside the walls. Safely tucked away in Whiterun, the conflict seemed so far away. I may have been the leader of the army, but my duties had been put on hold as I recovered. Soon, I would have to return to battle. I was needed in the western front. But my men could hold out, at least until I felt strong enough to fight once more.
Then it all came crashing down.
Just as I walked towards Carlotta's stall to purchase the bread, a courier came barreling through the crowds. He screamed as he ran, bellowing "OUT OF MY WAY!" to anyone caught in his path. I spun around, stepping back just before he stopped in front of me. Had I not moved, he would have run into me. The man braced his hands on his knees, shoulders heaving with every breath, while the mass of people gathered around to hear the news.
"Dragonborn, I have... grave news."
Those were the last words I wanted to hear. Straightening my spine, I steeled myself for whatever he would tell me. "What news?"
"Ma'am... the Thalmor... they're on the move."
Whispers passed through the crowd. My throat tightened. The bag of supplies for Tyra weighed heavily on my shoulder. "Moving where?"
"Here. To Whiterun."
I set my lips in a thin line as my heart clenched. This couldn't be true. It couldn't be happening. The day felt too pure, too warm, too mild, to contain this sort of news.
The crowd had fallen silent. Men and women alike froze in place. Expressions terrified, shoulders tense, knees shaking, they looked how I felt. I couldn't show it, though. Not here. "Soldier, go to Dragonsreach and pass this information on to Ulfric and General Brunelli. Inform the Jarl as well." I moved away from the crowd, which thankfully parted for me, and headed straight for Jorrvaskr. I cared not for the gossip behind me. I only focused on keeping my feet steady until I could hide.
I could be scared inside Jorrvaskr. The questions that swirled inside my mind could wait until I found my haven. The pit in my stomach could be released inside those safe walls. The tears burning in my throat could fall once I retreated behind those heavy doors.
The Thalmor are coming. The Thalmor are coming. The Thalmor are coming. The Thalmor....
Happy greetings and well wishes met me at the door. None of the Companions had seen my face. I barely returned their kindness with more than a soft word before hurrying down the stairs to my own quarters. Just a little farther.
The children tried to stop me on my way. I could only walk past them and try to assure them it's all right. "Go to your room, please." The words barely left in more than a whisper. They, thank the gods, did as I told. I took a breath and moved along.
The moment that I was safe inside, I dropped to my backside and gasped. This just couldn't be true. It couldn't be. No. No. The Thalmor couldn't be coming. Not here! Whiterun was safe! It had always been safe! No, no, no, no....
I drew my knees into my chest as my breaths became shallower. Visions of the cell beneath the Embassy flashed before my eyes. I squeezed them shut in an effort to block the horror out, but that only brought it into focus. This time, though, I stood outside the cell, watching as Elenwen needlessly tortured Vilkas. I screamed, but no sound came out, as she laid lash after lash onto his back. I reached for the bars, begging her to stop, to take me instead, to leave him alone.
Something crashed to the floor nearby. A pair of firm hands gripped my shoulders. I opened my eyes to see a shattered vase, bloody handprints, and my husband kneeling in front of me. He held me in place. His clear eyes soothed me as his hands rubbed up and down my arms. He said nothing for a moment, but then took me into his arms and held me until the shaking stopped. Until my breaths evened out. Until the visions of torment vanished. He replaced the stench of piss and iron blood with his earthy musk. That smell of dirt, steel, and something distinctly him.
"They're coming," is all I could manage as he shushed me. "They're coming."
He stiffened for a moment, but then returned to calming me down. "We'll be ready for them. We will."
"They're coming. They're coming." My grip around him tightened. I buried my face into his neck and sobbed. "They're coming."
And Vilkas held me while I rode out the storm.