As the carriage rolled into the Windhelm stables, I pulled yet another fur over my shoulders just to combat the chilly wind.

Tyra hunkered low in her seat, her cheeks rosy from windburn. Snow clung to her black cloak and armor. She looked about as miserable as I felt.

The twins weren't faring much better. Both Vilkas and Farkas had white patches in their dark hair, and scowls on their red faces. We were all too accustomed to the fair and sunny weather in Whiterun, where it almost never snowed.

And we call ourselves Nords.

Once the carriage came to a stop, the four of us jumped out and headed for the city. The watchtowers on either side of the bridge were massive and stony, and most of the bridge was coated in a thin layer of ice. We had to watch our steps as we crossed. Vilkas kept a steady hand on my waist, as if telling me he wouldn't let me slip and fall.

After crossing the bridge, we stood before the towering front gates. I couldn't help but think that this city was built to withstand an invasion ten times the size of the Imperial Legion. If Tullius ever grew a spine and decided to attack, he would be hard pressed to get in.

Especially if someone like Ulfric Stormcloak were holding those gates shut.

"What business do you have in Windhelm, travelers?" one of the guards standing next to the gates asked.

"We need to get to the docks," I said. "Is the Northern Maiden still in port?"

"Yep," the other guard said with a nod. "Hasn't left in a month. Something's got the captain spooked, I think."

"Are you true sons and daughters of Skyrim?" the first guard asked as the gates started to swing open. "You should join the Stormcloaks—"

"Not interested," I said as our company strolled into the city.

"This land belongs to us! And any who don't fight for it are no better than—"

The gates closed before he could finish.

I rubbed my temples. This war was so stupid. The sooner it ended, the better. I was so tired of "true sons of Skyrim" practically ordering me to march right up here and side with the Stormcloaks.

"I considered joining the Stormcloaks," Tyra said as we walked through the crumbling Stone Quarter. Last time I had been in Windhelm, while my parents were still alive, this place was in better condition. But now, everything was one storm away from falling to pieces. The walls may have been strong, but the city was falling apart. Ulfric spent too much of his time coveting after "his" throne, and not enough time taking care of his people. Yet another reason why I didn't side with them: their leader didn't have his priorities straight.

"Why didn't you join?" Farkas asked Tyra.

"Because I realized it was an empty cause. It would be a better use of my sword arm to join with you Companions. At least I could bring honor to something worth honoring then."

"I've never been one for politics. Or war. Just point and tell me who needs bludgeoning."

I grinned. My brother-in-law was so simple. I wished things could be as simple as he thought they could be. Life would be so much easier then.

We decided to get some dinner at the Candlehearth Hall before heading to the docks. As soon as we walked in, the owner, a tight-faced and fair-haired Nord woman by the name of Elda Early-Dawn, greeted us with a warm smile from behind the bar. "Come on in!"

She was a woman I knew well.

I strode right up to the counter and lowered my hood. "Hello, Elda. It's been a long time."

She squinted at my face, then reached her hand out to touch the smooth, raised scar under my eye. "By the Nine..." she gasped. "Ylva? I thought you were dead! Killed in that fire with your parents!"

"I set the fire. My parents were killed by something else."

"Where have you been all these years, lass? Last I saw you, you were just a skinny farm girl. No older than sixteen."

"I've been busy."

She pulled her hand away and smiled. "It's so good to see you, child." Then she looked at the other members of my traveling company. "And who are these people? Friends of yours?"

"Little bit more than that." I beckoned for Vilkas to step up. "This is my husband, Vilkas."

"Talos have mercy, Ylva!" Elda pressed a hand over her heart. "I don't see you for near eight years, and all of a sudden, you're all grown up and married!"

I smiled. I had forgotten how animated Elda could be. "That's not all. We're all Companions, and..." I paused. "Well, I'm their Harbinger."

Thank the Divines Elda had calmed down a little. "I heard about old Kodlak passing. We all grieved. But I had no idea that you would've joined them, and become their Harbinger. Congratulations, girl."

"Thank you."

"Now, you all must be hungry." She walked around the bar, towards the stairs. "Follow me. Let me find you some seats in front of the fire, and I'll bring some food and drink right up. It's on me tonight."

"Elda, I can't accept that," I said as we followed her.

"You have to, Ylva. You're an old friend. And old friends get taken care of 'round here."

"But—"

"Don't you try to argue! I owed your parents a favor, and since I can't repay them, the least I can do is repay you."

I sighed, seeing that I was getting nowhere with this stubborn old innkeeper. "All right, but just this once."

We came upstairs, where a few other patrons sat at scattered tables. A female Dark Elf played on a lute in one corner, the music floating through the warm and mead-scented air. A few candles flickered on the tables, and sconces on the wall provided enough light by which to see. Be that as it may, the room was still dark, making it seem smaller than it actually was.

"Just take a seat by the fire," Elda said, pointing to four chairs lined up in front of the hearth. "I'll have your food up to you in no time."

"Thank you, Elda," I said as we took our seats. "This is too kind of you."

"Nonsense. I'm just being hospitable to an old friend."

As she left, Tyra gave me a confused look. "How do you know her, and what was that business about your parents?"

"You've said you were born in the north," Vilkas murmured, staring into the crackling flames. "Were you born here, in Windhelm?"

"Not here in the city. My parents had a farm just outside. We sold our goods here, in Candlehearth. That's how I know Elda. She bought my parents' produce when we came into the city. She always got the first look. Whatever she didn't buy, we sold to the vendors in the stalls. Elda always had fresh sweetrolls baking when we came, and she always gave me one while she was haggling with my parents." I smiled at the memory. "Ever since then, any other sweetroll has never compared to hers. She puts extra sugar in the icing."

"And you haven't come back since the fire, have you?"

"No. I couldn't bring myself to come back after what happened. I just let everyone here believe I was dead, killed in the fire with my parents."

"She touched your scar. Like she recognized it."

"Because she did. I was attacked by a wolf on our farm when I was twelve. It gave me the scar. Papa saved my life that day. He came to my rescue with a pitchfork." A bittersweet chuckle escaped my lips. "He was no warrior, but he had the heart of one."

"What happened to your parents?" Tyra asked.

I dropped my voice to a whisper. "They were killed by Thalmor agents when I was sixteen."

"Oh." Tyra's face softened. "I'm sorry about that."

"Thank you. But it doesn't change anything now. That was over seven years ago." I looked around at the other patrons, the majority of which were Nords. "You won't find any Thalmor sympathizers here. I always thought Windhelm would be a safe place to worship Talos. But I was wrong. No place is safe."

"But Heimskr back home, the elves haven't arrested him yet. What does that mean?"

"They may see him as insane, or they just don't care. I don't know. And it doesn't matter to me. They can try to take Talos away from us, but I will die before I renounce him."

"That's brave of you."

"My parents died for Talos. The elves gave them the choice to curse his name, to renounce their faith, but they didn't back down. I'm not about to do anything that would make them ashamed of me."

Then, Elda approached, tray full of bowls of soup and mugs of mead. She handed each of us a mug and bowl. "You enjoy. The soup is our specialty."

"Elda is famous for her potato soup," I said with a smile. "Forget the Gourmet. Elda here is the best cook in Tamriel."

"Don't let Tilma catch you saying that," Vilkas said as he stirred his spoon around his bowl.

"Ylva is exaggerating, anyway," Elda said.

"I am not. Papa got himself in trouble one time for saying your beef stew was better than Mama's. And you know my mother could cook."

"Now you stop. Eat your soup."

"Yes, ma'am."

With a last smile, Elda left us to enjoy our meal.

Farkas practically dove headfirst into his bowl, chowing down as if it were going to run away from him. Tyra giggled at his messy eating as she dipped her spoon into her bowl. Vilkas rolled his eyes at his brother and made sure to eat his soup with a little more reservation.

"By the gods," Tyra said after taking several more bites of soup. "You weren't kidding. This soup is amazing!"

"It's not as good as I remember, but it may be because my parents aren't her produce suppliers anymore. Our crops were the best in the Hold."

Vilkas scoffed. "And how true is that, I wonder, hmm?"

I rolled my eyes and playfully hit his arm. "It's the truth. Elda told me herself."

"Mmm." He took a sip from his mug. "So if Elda told you, it's the truth, is it?"

"Yes."

He rolled his eyes and kept drinking from his mug.

-------

After thanking Elda for the hundredth time, we left the inn and headed for the docks.

The sun was just setting when we left. The city was dark, save for some torches and braziers scattered throughout the square. Not many people wandered the streets at this time. I wondered why, but I didn't have much time to think about it.

Just before we reached the gates that led to the docks, we met a little girl, wearing a ratty dress and no shoes, standing in the snow, a basket of flowers over her arm.

"Excuse me," she said in a small tone, her voice shaking from cold. "Would you like to buy some flowers?"

We stopped, and I knelt down in front of the girl. "Why are you out here, with no shoes on, selling flowers? Where are your parents?"

"They... they died. I never knew my mama, and my papa was a Stormcloak soldier. One day he left, and... he didn't come back."

Of course, knowing what it was like to be an orphan, my heart went out to this girl. "What's your name?"

"Sofie."

"Well, Sofie, I have a friend at Candlehearth Hall that can help you out. Here." I slipped a coin purse into her cold and tiny palm. "Give this Elda Early-Dawn, tell her that Ylva sent you. She'll take care of you."

Sofie's eyes lit up, then she dropped her basket and threw her arms around my neck. "Thank you so much! You're the best!"

Her sudden embrace caught me off guard, but I still wrapped my arms around her. "You're welcome, Sofie." I pulled away, looking her in the eye. "Now, my friends and I have an important mission to get to." I gave her a smile. "Can you keep a secret?"

She nodded, eager to hear a juicy new secret.

I cupped my hand around my mouth and leaned closer to her. "I'm the Dragonborn, and I have to go save the world."

Sofie gasped and stared at me with awe.

"I would love to stay at talk with you all day, but I'll be sure to come back to you and talk."

"After you save the world?" Her voice was hardly over a whisper.

"Yes. After I save the world. Will you still be here?"

She nodded, clutching her coin purse as tightly as she could.

"Good. Now, get over to the inn and get warmed up. And if Elda offers you some sweets, ask for a sweetroll. They're the best."

She nodded, then picked up her basket and took off sprinting towards the inn.

I stood up, then headed back towards the gates.

Vilkas jogged to fall into step next to me. "That was amazing what you did back there."

"That was nothing. Anyone who sees a starving little girl should at least try to give her a septim for food. Believe me, I know what she's going through. I wouldn't wish that existence on anyone."

We descended the icy steps and made it to the docks, where several Argonian workers were busy with various tasks. A couple ships were docked, their crews busy with chattering while they worked.

I walked to the Northern Maiden, asking for the captain. "I need passage to Solstheim for myself and three others."

"If you're looking for passage to Solstheim, too bad," a man, I assumed was the captain, said as he stepped forward. He wore regular clothes, and his long, blond hair was partially tied back with a strip of leather.

"Are you the captain?"

"Sure. Yeah. That's me. Why? Who sent you?"

"No one sent me. I came on my own, after a pair of cultist that you brought to Skyrim tried to kill me!"

The captain's eyes widened. "Now hold on! That wasn't my fault... I didn't know they were going to attack anybody. I don't even know how I got here."

"What are you talking about?"

"It's hard to explain... I remember those people with the masks coming on board, then... Next thing I remember, I was here and they were gone. That's not right, losing whole days like that. There's been something strange going on there for a while, but after this... I'm done. I'm not going back to Solstheim."

"Look, Captain, my companions and I need you to take us there."

"Have you been listening to me? I'm not going back there."

"I heard you, but it's important that we get to Solstheim."

"I already told you, I'm not going back to Solstheim."

I growled. That was it. I was done trying to be nice. "Way I see it, you owe me. Those cultists you brought here tried to kill me! They almost killed my husband!"

The captain paled. "Alright, you have a point. Taking you back to find out who sent them is the least I can do. Besides, maybe you can put a stop to whatever's going on over there. I owe them a bit of payback myself."

"Glad we're on the same page."

"Whenever you and your companions are ready, step aboard, and we'll be off."

I motioned for my friends, and we all stepped aboard the rickety ship. It rocked under my feet, and I started to stumble. But Vilkas was right behind me, and he kept me steady.

"Not really a sea person, are you?" he asked, leaning down and kissing my cheek. He wrapped his arms around me from behind and buried his face into my hair.

"I can't swim, so what do you think?" I asked, relaxing in his arms. I leaned back, resting my head against his chest.

"I think that, if we sink, you're in trouble."

"Then let's pray we don't sink, hmm?"

"Don't worry, my love." He spun my around and planted a firm kiss to my lips. "We won't sink."

The crew of the Maiden had prepared to set sail. The captain, whose name I guessed to be Gjalund, stood at the bow, looking to the open water in front of us. He signaled to his crew, and the ship started moving. Soon, the city of Windhelm was nothing but a dark spot on the horizon.

"Our home is back there," I murmured, my arms around Vilkas's waist as we both watched Skyrim fall away.

"We'll see it again. We won't be gone long, my love. I promise."

I hope you can keep that promise, Vilkas.