Chapter Text
“Styra!” Lydia yelled up the stairs of Breezehome. There was no reply so the housecarl rolled her eyes and climbed the steps, huffing to herself. She threw open her Thane’s bedroom door and repeated her call at the bundle of furs sprawled over the bed. “Styra!”
A grumble that could have come from a very large, very grumpy bear sounded from the bed and the pile of furs shifted slightly so that a freckled face poked out of them. Styra Hope-Shield cracked a golden eye open slightly at the disturbance, glowering blearily at her Housecarl.
“What?” She grunted.
“Jarl wants you.” Lydia crossed her arms and leaned against the doorway. “Get up.”
“What time is it?” Styra brushed some strands of her scruffy dark brown hair out of her eyes.
“Past noon. Again.” Lydia rolled her eyes.
“I’m entitled to as many lie-in’s as I want, I killed that bastard dragon for everyone didn’t I?” Styra grumbled, placing her head back down on the pillow.
“That was two weeks ago.”
“Your point?”
“I was there through most of it, and the Jarl was too. If he’s calling for you now, it’s for something important.” Lydia said. Her Thane groaned from beneath her sheets but didn’t move. Lydia sighed.
“I’ll make your favourite breakfast…” After a short silence Styra replied.
“…..Fine.”
“If you’re not up in the next few minutes I’m eating it myself.” Lydia said before leaving the room.
“Aye.” Styra muttered in return. She sighed heavily before sitting up and stretching before swinging her legs out of bed and running a hand down her face. Glancing at her bedside table, Styra paused for a moment and studied herself in the small mirror, taking in her bedraggled hair and bleary eyes. She focused on her globes for a moment, still not used to how they looked. Her eyes had once been brown in colour like her hair, but after the awakening of her dragon soul months ago they had turned to a molten gold which glowed brightly whenever she used her shouts or was severely agitated.
She stood and left the room, casting one glance back at her glorious bed before ambling barefoot down the stairs of her shared home in a sleeveless nightgown and slumping into a chair at the table with a yawn. The smell of eggs cooking nearby made her stomach rumble slightly.
“Do you know what they want?” She asked her Housecarl and friend.
“Didn’t go into specifics, just said that they needed you.” Lydia replied. “Oh, and Hrongar asked after you again.” She she set a plate of fried eggs and tomatoes on toasted bread down in front of her Thane, who groaned.
“Why?”
“Seems he’s noticed that you’re going to be sticking around instead of running between holds like a mad woman. Thinks he can woo you.”
“Fat chance.” Styra grumbled around a mouthful of food. She finished her breakfast before returning to her room to dress in a simple white shirt with leather hunting pants and soft leather boots. She quickly ran a brush through her shoulder length hair and pulled it into a half ponytail before descending the stairs again to find Lydia in full armour waiting for her.
”Overdressed?” She raised an eyebrow. Lydia ignored her and ushered her through the door. The pair made their way through the market in silence, Styra shooting a look at her steel-clad Housecarl who clinked and clanked along beside her.
“Did you bring the breakfast pans along with you?” Styra’s dry tone went unanswered as they climbed the stairs towards the Gildergreen. She nudged her Housecarl with an elbow as they reached the top.
“Wanna bet on what they’re gonna need us to fix this time?”
“No.”
“You’re no fun.” Styra mock sulked. “You used to love making bets.”
“And I always seemed to lose them.” Lydia grumbled.
“Chicken.” Her Thane shot her a mischievous grin, a single dimple showing.
“Don’t need to bet. It’s probably the war.”
“You’re a bore.” Styra yawned, stopping and stretching out her arms beside the tree, which was recovering well.
“Think you’ll finally get involved?” Lydia asked, tapping her foot impatiently as Styra rolled her neck and suppressed a smile. She knew that Lydia wanted her to get a move on so took her time counting some of the petals blossoming on the tree before moving on.
“We’ll see.” Styra ambled past the tree and towards the stairs of Dragonsreach, the women falling into a silence. Styra studied Lydia out of the corner of her eye as they climbed. Her Housecarl had become her closest friend during her mission to kill Alduin. She had saved Styra’s life countless times, her Thane returning the favour on more than one occasion. Initially they had a rocky relationship, as Lydia tried to distance herself from her Thane to remain professional. Styra had initially struggled with the responsibility of becoming the Dragonborn and found that having a tall, armoured statue follow you around was a cause for annoyance. Over time, and after an intense shouting match between the two, they had sat down and discussed their situation. Their relationship only improved from then on.
But now that the dragons had been dealt with, Styra didn’t want Lydia to remain as a glorified body guard. She wanted her friend to be able to relax more around her, to not always be on guard and watching over her. Despite her best efforts Lydia was insistent that she would remain as a Housecarl first and a friend second. Styra ultimately respected the decision, but it still bothered her. The fact that she seemed to be taking the Housecarl behaviour up a notch while ignoring the friend part was starting to grate on Styra’s nerves.
“Something the matter?” Lydia asked as they reached the top of the stairs.
‘Damn her Housecarl eyes.’ Styra thought, blinking. “You’ve got flour on your nose from making breakfast.” She lied.
“No I haven’t.” Lydia scowled. Styra shrugged before making her way to the great doors ahead.
“Fine, meet the Jarl with flour on your nose.” She said, stifling a chuckle when she heard Lydia curse behind her and wipe her nose discreetly. She pushed open the door and ushered her Housecarl inside. “Come on, the suspense is killing me.”
Hrongar watched Styra approach appreciatively. Her dark brown hair was pulled back from her freckled face by a scruffy half-ponytail, several of her bangs escaping to frame her face. Her astounding golden eyes reflected the light of the hearth warmly, while her tight leather trousers hugged her strong legs. Hrongar found that it was impossible for his thoughts not to wander to them wrapping around his waist. He was brought out of his muse when he noticed the Dragonborn’s Housecarl staring at him with narrowed eyes.
Ah yes, his main obstacle when attempting to approach Styra.
The Dragonborn smiled at Jarl Balgruuf as she approached his throne. Her smile always held a hint of mischief in it, no matter who she directed it at.
“My Jarl.” She said.
“Dragonborn.” Balgruuf nodded his head. “Apologies. I know you desire rest after your ordeal and by the gods you’ve earned it, but the Hold needs you.”
“What’s going on?” She asked. Instead of answering, Balgruuf nodded at Irileth who stepped forward.
“Over the past week we’ve been getting reports of movement along our Eastern border.” The Dark Elf said.
“Let me guess.” Styra sighed, crossing her arms and cocking a hip to the side. “They don’t happen to be dressed in Blue do they?”
“Precisely.” Irileth said grimly.
“I did not think I would have to ask you again so soon Dragonborn.” The Jarl said. “But will you stand with us?”
“No.” Styra studied her nails. In the following silence, broken only by the crackling of the hearth, Lydia sighed loudly and elbowed her Thane in the ribs. Styra looked up and winked at the Jarl. “Kidding. Alright then, what’s the situation?” A weight lifted off the Jarl’s shoulders and he relaxed more on his throne, while Irileth rolled her eyes at the Dragonborn’s antics before speaking.
“Over the last few days I have led several scouting parties personally and discovered four Stormcloak camps within our borders. They don’t know we’re onto them yet, but the amount of camps present confirm that an invasion is coming.”
“Any movement from the Imperials?” Styra asked.
“The Legion were once again denied reinforcements from the Empire, so have been rigorously recruiting to try and match the Stormcloaks.” Proventus said. “I have sent word to them regarding the situation, but no reply has come as of yet.”
“So either they aren’t confident in their chances…” Styra began.
“…Or they’ll wait until we’ve thinned the Stormcloaks out and swoop in.” Lydia finished.
“Or maybe they just throw all of Proventus’ mail straight into the fire.” Styra grinned as the steward huffed indignantly, then turned back to the Jarl. “Alright, where do I come in?”
“Ulfric is skulking around, trying to hide troops in my borders.” Balgruuf said, standing. He gestured to Proventus, who opened a chest behind him and brandished an axe. Styra understood immediately. “I want you to go into the lair of that murderer and present him this axe. Show all of his Generals and supporters that Whiterun will not bend to his crusade, and that we are not going to sit idly by.”
“But my Jarl, Styra is our best chance at holding them off. Is it wise to just send her straight to him?” Lydia protested.
“It is a risk we must take.” Balgruuf said. “I don’t think highly of Ulfric, but I doubt even he would be willing to make a move on a guest under a banner of truce, especially with all of his Generals present.
“And here I thought you just wanted to be rid of me.” Styra shrugged. “Okay then, Windhelm it is.”
“We’re hoping that a display of strength in the face of his army will make him adopt a more cautious approach and buy us some time.” Irileth said.
“He wasn’t cautious when he killed Torygg.” Hrongar snorted. “What makes you think he’ll start now?”
“Either side know that the first one to reopen hostilities will be considered the aggressor.” Lydia said.
“Hard to look like the saviour of your people when you break the truce keeping them alive.” Styra added with a shrug.
“Take a contingent of guards with you, Irileth will select them. Make a statement.” Balgruuf’s voice was like steel at the last part. Styra shot him one of her grins.
“That I can do.” She said, then paused. “Anything in particular you want me to tell him, or are you happy if I just roll with it?”
“No words are needed from me, he will get the message.” The Jarl said. “But try not to anger him too much with what you say. We need you back here.”
“No promises.” Styra grinned, nodding to everyone before turning on her heel and making her way towards the doors with Lydia. They exited the hall, nodding to the guards on duty before stopping at the top of the steps.
“What are your thoughts?” Lydia asked.
“Need to stretch my arms and legs a bit before we set off, blow some of the cobwebs off.” Styra said, her golden eyes landing on Jorrvaskr below them. “What do you know, that looks like just the place.”
Lydia looked up from her thoughts when Styra exited her house in her armour, a mix of dark leather and ebony chainmail that offered good protection while not hindering mobility. Styra paused for a moment and ran an eye along her weapons, a short-sword and dagger on her belt, along with another dagger strapped to her boot, all fashioned from Skyforge steel. She also carried her signature Dragonbone longbow, made famous by the amount of the beasts it had felled. Her gaze lingered on the bow, the familiar grip bringing back memories that made her fingers tighten around it. She blinked them away and slung it over her shoulder quickly, looking up to see Lydia watching her with a worried expression.
“Feels a tad tight around the midriff. Have I put on weight?” Styra dodged the look.
“Want me to answer honestly?” Lydia replied, the ghost of a smile pulling up her lips.
“Hmph.” Her Thane walked away in a huff, but Lydia knew she wasn’t serious and fell into step beside her. “If anything it’s your fault. Cooking all that food for me every day like a maid instead of relaxing like a normal person would.” She pulled her fur lined leather hood up as she spoke.
“It’s my job.” Lydia said, her tone flat and matter of fact like when they’d first met.
“Lydia.” Styra had had enough now. She stopped in the middle of the street, turning to face the other woman. “You’re fired.”
“Excuse me?” She raised an eyebrow.
“You’re fired.” Styra waved her hands as if to shoo her away. “Job finished. Styra survived Dragons. Styra can look after herself. Fuck off.”
“Think that’s going to work?”
“Do we have to have a screaming match again?” She said, holding her arms out wide. “Because this time I’ll do more than just yell. I’m sick to the back teeth of you acting like this. You’ve just reverted back to that soulless mannequin that followed me around.”
“Styra, the war is about to break out again and now that you’re not needed to stop the Dragons. People will target you.”
“Lydia for the love of…” Styra began in a growl, eyes beginning to take on a glow before she stopped herself. She sighed and closed her eyes for a moment. “Look, I know being a Housecarl means everything to you.” Styra said, voice softening. When she opened her eyes again they were back to normal. “But I don’t need a babysitter, I need a friend.” She reached out and gently grabbed Lydia’s arm as she opened her mouth to retort. “Despite how much you think you’re helping me by being protective, you’re not. You’re leaving me feeling alone.” Lydia froze at the tiredness in Styra’s eyes as her shoulders sagged slightly. Her Thane looked down the street for a moment in thought. “I’ll make a deal with you.” The Housecarl’s head tilted slightly. “When we’re on the road I won’t bother you when you distance yourself to do your job.”
“And in return?”
“When we’re here in Whiterun I want you to cut loose.” She tightened her grip on Lydia’s arm slightly, golden eyes boring into hers. “This is my home. Our home. And I want to spend my time here with my friend. You’ve been acting like we’re out in the Reach somewhere surrounded by Forsworn.”
“I…” Lydia said, pausing for a moment as she looked into her Thane’s eyes. Styra was right, Lydia didn’t have to be so over protective while they were in the Hold. And especially not when her Thane was clearly uncomfortable with her behaviour. After all that had happened and what they’d been through it was hard not to jump at shadows or think the worst of every situation. Despite her usually sunny disposition Styra had been feeling the same, staying up late into the night reading books by candlelight to stave off dark thoughts before practically passing out from exhaustion. Lydia’s knee jerk reaction was to become more protective instead of being there as a friend, and she sighed heavily as she thought over the last couple of weeks.
She’d let her Thane down… No. She’d let her friend down.
“Sorry. I’ll loosen up.” Lydia said, freezing as a smile lit up Styra’s face, lacking it’s usual mischievous edge. Lydia returned the smile and her Thane threw her arm over her shoulders as they continued their walk towards the market.
“Thank the gods, you were becoming insufferable.” Styra said, flicking her cheek playfully.
“I’m going to regret this aren’t I?”
“No idea what you mean.” She beamed, squeezing Lydia tightly for a moment before steering them towards Jorrvaskr. “Alright, let’s go and pick a fight.”
“Brilliant.” Lydia mumbled.