Chapter Text
Arva looked up from her book when the sound of a dog barking reached her ears. A fire burned lowly next to her, casting the room in a warm glow. Frowning, she stood from her chair and walked towards the front door of her small farmhouse. She pulled open the door and stepped outside into the morning air, the sun sitting low in the sky. Arva's estate was modest, a small wooden farmhouse sat on a small hill overlooking a lake. She could afford something much more grand in Solitude or Windhelm, but the aftermath of the rebellion had left her craving peace and quiet. Her dog stood on the path leading down the hill, growling lowly while looking towards the main road which lead to Riverwood.
''What is it now Ragnar?'' Arva asked, smiling lightly at her closest friend. ''Are the rabbits making fun of you?'' He barked again, before Arva's ears picked up the faint sounds of multiple horses approaching. ''Ragnar, axe. Now.'' She lost her smile as Ragnar dashed inside the house. He soon returned with a steel battleaxe, wagging his tail. Arva knelt down next to him and retrieved the axe from his mouth. ''Good boy.'' She said, scratching him behind the ear before straightening once again, blue eyes scanning the road.
A squadron of Stormcloak soldiers appeared at the treeline, dismounting their horses. Arva counted eight. Seven began walking up the path towards her, while one minded the horses. She rested the axe on her shoulder while she waited, Ragnar at her side. Arva's blonde hair framed her face down to her shoulders in thick waves, dancing lightly in the breeze. She wore a simple white shirt, with tight fitting leather trousers leading into well worn leather boots. At the age of twenty four, Arva had defeated the dragon threat. One year later, after a long and bloody fight, the Empire had been driven out of Skyrim with her help. She'd been happily retired for six months, books and hunting replacing battles and deaths. As a result, the sight of the Stormcloaks marching towards Arva's home was causing anger to start simmering in her veins. Galmar Stone-fist lead them, stopping before Arva and nodding.
''Stormblade.'' He greeted in a gruff voice, nodding.
''If you're lost Galmar, I can help point you back towards Windhelm.'' Arva responded, before glaring at the soldiers. ''You lot, fuck off back to your horses.'' They exchanged worried glances, before looking towards Galmar, who nodded. They hastily retreated back down the hill, Galmar shaking his head and looking back at Arva.
''Did you have to scare them like that?'' He sighed, a frown breaking out on his face.
''It's been months since I've scared anybody, couldn't resist.'' Arva frowned back. ''Now, what do you want?'' She handed the axe back to Ragnar, who took it in his mouth happily with a wagging tail.
''You've been ignoring your mail.'' Galmar said, crossing his arms.
''And let me guess, Ulfric was worried for me, so sent you all to make sure i'm safe. How sweet of him. Well as you can see, i'm perfectly fine, so you can get back on your horse and gallop away.''
''What, not even going to invite me in for some dinner?'' Galmar asked. ''I'm hurt.''
''Yeah, and i'll hurt a lot more than your feelings if you stay here much longer.'' Arva said.
''I'm getting old, but I could still kick your behind back into Sovengarde.'' The pair glared at each other for a few seconds, before breaking out in laughter. ''Good to see you girl.'' Galmar chuckled, before Arva wrapped her arms around him in a hug.
''You too old man.'' She smiled, releasing him and becoming serious. ''What does he want?''
''The moot is near, we need you back in the fold.'' Galmar said.
''Why, Ulfric not feeling confident with his chances?'' Arva scoffed.
''Of course he is, but the Empire and Thalmor will be watching, we need to look strong. The Jarls are a fickle lot, and if it goes wrong we could have another civil war on our hands.''
''So where do I come in?''
''Just stand there and glare at anyone who thinks of voting against him.'' Galmar said. ''Then you can scurry back under a rock. You've earned an early retirement in my eyes.''
''Ulfric won't see it that way. I'll do this, then he'll need help with something else, then something else, and i'll never leave.''
''I won't let it come to that.'' Galmar placed a hand on her shoulder. ''Do this, and we've finally won.''
''Fine.'' Arva sighed. ''Tell me when and where the moot is and i'll be there.''
''It's in a couple of weeks, but he wants to see you now.'' He said apologetically.
''Why, is he scared i'll mess up my lines during the moot?'' She rolled her eyes. ''Is he holding rehearsals?''
''Just come to Windhelm with us girl, you'll give me a heart attack at this rate.'' Galmar sighed.
''Fine, I'll follow you down tomorrow, I've just got to gather some things.''
''You're definitely coming?''
''Aye, now get lost.'' She said. Galmar nodded, then turned to return to his men.
''Travel safe.'' He called over his shoulder. ''I hope you haven't forgotten how to handle yourself.''
''Worry about yourself old man!'' She shouted after him before walking back towards her house. She entered with Ragnar, locking the door behind herself. ''Looks like we're going back boy.'' She said to Ragnar, who whined slightly. ''Oh, shut up. You're getting a bit tubby, could use the exercise.'' He barked indignantly. Chuckling, Arva moved to the middle of the room and lifted the bearskin rug, revealing a trap door. She opened it, then descended the wooden steps into the cellar.
Summoning a small flame in her hand, Arva lit a torch on the cellar wall to lift the gloom. In the center of the cellar stood an armour stand, holding her Blades armour. The matching shield and sword hung behind the armour on the wall, and Arva stepped forward to remove the blade and unsheathe it. She stared at her reflection in the blade, dark thoughts soon looming. How many men and women had looked into those blue eyes before being struck down? How many sons, daughters, mothers, fathers, uncles? Thousands had died in the rebellion, Legion and Stormcloak alike.
A warm, wet feeling on her hand made Arva snap out of her daze, looking down to see Ragnar licking her fingers. Her friend looked up at her in concern, ears flat against his head. Arva smiled at him, sheathing the blade and hanging it back up on the wall. She crouched next to Ragnar and wrapped her arms around him, while he licked her cheek once. ''Thanks boy. Now let's pack some things, and i'll get you a sweet roll.'' He barked excitedly and sprinted up the steps. Arva glanced at her sword one more time before following.