What Should Have Been

 

Previously: Tomorrow, Tomorrow

 

They bid the Jarl farewell and left before the sun, traveling ever eastward. Zahra wasn't certain where they were bound; Eyvindr wouldn't tell her and she'd never traveled this road during the day. And the last time she headed in this direction, it was by boat, with a different betrothed.

 

It was less cold than the Pale, and with slightly less snow. As the giant mounts loomed in the south, Zahra finally realized they were entering Eastern Skyrim, in the hold of Eastmarch.

 

Her whole body stiffened. I don't want to return to Eastern Skyrim.

 

It was strange; she felt more alarmed than when she was on the road to Markarth. She wondered why that was, and delved into her buried memories. Nothing stuck out to her, other than bandits, Ivarstead, Riften....

 

She closed her eyes against the barrage of memories, of the long road from Windhelm and her idiotic optimism about her future with a man she raised from the dead and lied to every day. She remembered her youthful excitement, her ignorance of the waking world. She'd learned so much since then. She had slain healed soldiers in the heat of battle, served in a Jarl's court, dined with multiple Jarls, in fact. She was now named a baroness and hailed a beauty worthy of song.

 

And she was to wed a new man.

 

***

 

Eyvindr was oblivious to his intended's discomfort. He was troubled by memories and thoughts of his own as he struggled to recall how old he was the day he left the Rift. Back then, he didn't see why he had to leave. He wasn't a man fully grown, as most fosters were when they were sent home.

 

Instead, still a child, he was packed off to High Rock to live with his maternal cousins in an admittedly comfortable estate by the sea.

 

He'd written letters to the Law-Givers; only Saerlund wrote back and rather infrequently. Now that he was back in Skyrim, they were traitors and stuck in exile.

 

We were supposed to be a family again, he thought grimly, staring out his carriage as the wilds rolled by. Now they can't even attend my wedding.

 

Instead he'd have to get married at some temple in Whiterun and spend his honeymoon in Riverwood, all for political reasons. And while the River Estate was ridiculously luxurious and he did want Jarl Balgruuf's favor, he would give anything marry instead at the Temple of Mara in Riften and honeymoon at Mistveil Keep. He would have loved once again spend his days with the Law-Giver brothers, hunting deer, singing songs and drinking mead by the fire.

 

He would get it right this time. He'd have more than one child, and he would make sure they had plenty of friends and that with they were fostered with someone he admired and respected, politics be damned.

 

Politics be damned. Now I sound like Zahra, Eyvindr mused. He turned to see her staring out her carriage window, ever vigilant and discerning as always.

 

He suddenly realized that that was what he liked about her. Zahra navigated nobles, but wasn't truly one of them and didn't want to be. She respected their power and understood their politics, but didn't want to be sucked into their games. She had served with distinction as a healer during the war, not some ambitious courtier. She had seen the cost of ambition, felt it bleed out in her arms and watch the life drain from its eyes.

 

She'll keep my head on straight, he reassured himself. She'll let me know when I'm going too far, when I'm being tricked, and she'll support me all the way.

 

He suddenly wondered about her first husband, and then stopped himself. If he thought too much about it, he'd get jealous and that was no way to start a marriage. The man was dead, and the Nine had willed it so. Otherwise, she'd probably still married to him and living in Markarth under the thumb of the Silver-Bloods.

 

***

 

 

Zahra had been to Windhelm before, but not the Palace of Kings.

 

Understone Keep, Dragonsreach, Whitehall...this place eclipses them all.

 

Understone was mysterious, filled the lost histories and secrets of the Dwemer people, forever buried in stone. Dragonsreach was lofty, exquisitely seated above the clouds atop a high hill, overlooking the plains. Whitehall was regal and polished in a practical way, for level-headed Jarls with simple taste. But the Palace of Kings was a giant of magnificence, a residence properly befitting royalty, legend, and epic song.

 

The very stone walls seemed to echo the exploits of kings long gone, of famed warriors who slayed dragons and now slept in Sovengarde.

 

 

 

 

No wonder Ulfric went mad with greed, Zahra realized, eyes wide as as they entered the great hall that seemed to go on for miles. There were countless doors leading from the hall that was richly furnished and warmly lit. The traitor's throne, newly occupied, stood atop stone steps, so that the seated might be gazed upon in awe.

 

It's easy for a place like this to go to someone's head, she thought. Eastmarch wasn't a wealthy hold and Windhelm was a crumbling city racked with conflict. Is this what drove him to rebel? Did Ulfric escape his own misery into fantasy when he realized he couldn't do anything for his realm?

"Your Grace," Eyvindr bowed his head in greeting. "I wrote ahead a few days and--"

 

"Eyvindr," the new Jarl said, leaning forward as if to see more clearly. Lord Brunwulf Free-Winter was a bald Nord with a gray bear, dressed simply in leathers and furs. "I got your message." His eyes flickered to Zahra and back. "I don't know why you felt the need to drag a proper lady all the way to Windhelm, but her beauty brightens my hall nonetheless."

 

Zahra blushed, eyes downcast as she tried and failed to stop smiling. "My lord," she bowed her head slightly.

 

"I thank Your Grace for allowing this audience," Eyvindr said.

 

"No need," Brunwulf raised one hand slightly. "Laila is a beloved woman. Had you asked to see anyone else, I would have denied it immediately.

 

"I will summon the Law-Givers to this hall," he leaned back into his throne. "You may speak them here and only here, and only briefly. Harrald is under confinement for breaking my rules, so he is unavailable today."

 

"Yes, Your Grace," Eyvindr nodded stiffly. The last thing he needed now was to be accused of treason.

 

 

Saerlund Law-Giver arrived first. He was young Nord with reddish brown hair and a mustache, who smelled of lavender and dressed like a proper Imperial. He seemed surprised to have a guest, and even more surprised at who it was.

 

"My lord," Eyvindr greeted, voice cracking slightly as the emotions swelled.

 

Saerlund embraced him, still in a daze. "Littler brother," he said, "I am lord no more."

 

 "You look well," Eyvindr assured him.

 

"We are treated well," Saerlund nodded. "We eat better here than we did back home."

 

Eyvindr was visibly shocked. "How?"

 

"You don't remember, but things got...rough for my family for a while." He turned to Zahra. And who is this?"

 

"Zahra of Falkreath," she introduced herself with a slightly curtsied. "I am pleased to meet you. Eyvindr speaks so fondly of you."

 

Saerlund's eyes widened. "You're married?"

 

"Bethrothed," Eyvindr told him. "I am to become Baron of Ilinalta through marriage."

 

"Baron?" Saerlund raised an eyebrow. "They still award that title?"

 

"Apparently, they do," Eyvindr laughed, even as his eyes teared slightly.

 

 "Eyvindr?"

 

 

They turned to see an older woman with red hair and a fine lace gown.

 

Eyvindr's tearing eyes finally water. "My lady," he said hoarsely, with a low bow.

 

"Lady no more," she said, drifting as though in a dream as she came to embrace him. "What brings you to Windhelm?"

 

He was surprised by her question. "Why you do, of course." He looked back and forth between and her son. "What happened? Why are you here?"

 

Saerlund looked down as his mother sighed. "We lost a war, plain and simple," the formal Jarl said.

 

"But why Ulfric Stormcloak?" Eyvindr pressed. Zahra could tell he was distraught and desperately trying not to show it. "Of all people--you should've known he couldn't win. You should've known what that meant--your lands, your home, your rights. Mother," he finally broke, "you've lost everything!"

 

Laila had the haunted face of someone who'd cried herself to sleep night after night for months before finally accepting her fate. "I gambled and lost, child." After a pause, she conceded, "I don't know what to tell you."

 

"You can tell me why I had to leave that summer," Eyvindr finally demanded. "Why was I sent away? The real reason."

 

"My citizens were behind on taxes, our crops were failing, the Black-Briars were bleeding me dry, and I couldn't afford to keep you," she told him honestly, shoulders hanging with the weight of defeat.

 

That answer made no sense to Eyvindr. "But my father had more than enough money--"

 

"And he didn't trust me with it," Laila interjected. "He said I'd begun to rule with my heart and not my head." She briefly glanced down. "I suppose he was right...in the end."

 

"This is Zahra," he finally introduced. "She is to be my wife. And when we have children, they know that the Law-Givers were a great people, led by the greatest of women, and they will not be allowed to forget."

 

That brought a weak smile to Laila's face as she embraced him once more. "I can tell you've been on the road for long. The Jarl has made arrangements for you. Go," she pulled away. "Have a hot bath. They'll start serving supper soon."

 

***

 

Once again, Zahra found herself in a fine chamber where someone important likely once slept, and her mind whirled with questions about the history of this great palace. But she curbed her excitement when she saw her intended's dark mood.

"This is wrong," he was mumbling. "These are good people."

 

"I know," she nodded. "So was my husband."

 

He looked up at her, seemingly lost.

 

"He supported Ulfric too," she elaborated calmly, her voice detached from the bitter memory. "But Ulfric was on the other side of Skyrim, hiding out in this palace. Meanwhile, Thongvor Silver-Blood was just a stone's throw away."

 

"Your husband followed Thongvor," Eyvindr nodded slowly, understanding.

 

"Hung on his every word, as though they fell from the lips of Ulfric himself," Zahra sighed. "Would that he'd hung on my every word instead. But that's the thing about people. When they want to believe, they can't see or hear anything that doesn't support their belief."

 

"How could she fall for Ulfric's lies?" Eyvindr asked, eyes tearing all over again. "They were so blatant."

 

"He told her what she wanted to hear," Zahra shrugged. "Her people were poor, her crops were failing, the Black-Briars were fleecing her, and Ulfric told her it was the Imperials' fault. And the Argonians. And the Khajiit. And the Elves. He told her it was everyone's fault but hers. Seems like your father was the only one willing to tell her the truth."

 

 "But now her house is gone," he rasped, helpless. "Her lands are seized. Her sons will not be allowed to marry and sire legitimate heirs. Their legacy is ruined."

"We can't help them," Zahra stated firmly, "but we can avoid their mistakes. For starters, we need to go home, Eyvindr. At first light, we need to leave. I understand your sentiment and why you didn't want to tell me where we were going, but we cannot be seen consorting with traitors. We do not need those problems." She gently came over to take his hands. "We need to get married, and serve our Jarl so we can assure our children never end up like Laila's."

There was a flicker in Eyvindr's eyes. "You're loyal to Siddgeir."

 

"I am loyal to Falkreath," she told him honestly. "It's my home. It may not be much, but at least it's that. And it's your home too. Its mines gave your family wealth and comfort and privileges the average Skyrim citizen will never know." She tried not to sound bitter, but she really didn't want to be married to some spoiled little rich kid who didn't understand how the world really was.

 

My first husband didn't understand the people on top. My second fails to understand the people below.

 

"Siddgeir may be a young, lecherous drunk, but he loves his people, and Falkreath is a beautiful land full of good, hard-working people who lost so much in the war...while you lost nothing."

 

Eyvindr's body stiffened as he was reminded once more that he was lounging in a castle by the sea while his fellow Nords were dying.

 

"I see why everyone respects you," he confessed quietly. "Here I am, trying to find the quickest way to buy a title while you...you earned yours, truly. I finally understand what that means now."

 

"Then serve," Zahra pressed, seizing the momentum. "Serve...with distinction."