Inside the Palace's walls, men and women of all ages celebrated our victory in Windhelm. Soldiers mingled, drank, and sang at the top of their voices. Their revelings had even spilled into the streets; the townsfolk had brought out kegs of mead and slabs of food, gathering around the braziers for warmth as they raised their cups in victory.

I stood on the outside of it all, atop a balcony overlooking the square below. Behind me, the sounds of merry-making disappeared into the night's chilly air. I was alone for the moment, and I embraced the solace that an Eastmarch's night could bring.

For the night, I had forgone my armor. It laid clean and polished in a room that Ulfric had given to Vilkas and me for the night. Now I wore fine robes made of deep blue and silver fabric. The breast of the heavy tunic was stitched in thin silver thread, with some ornate pattern that was far too intricate to follow. The leggings were made of thick black leather, and they fit me perfectly. My wolfskin cloak still hung from my shoulders, and around my feet were boots made of supple black leather. Even my hair had been brushed and styled into a thick crown braid, and I wore a fine circlet made of silver with three sapphires set into it. I had never worn something so rich before; I did not look like a mere solider, or even a noble. I looked like a queen.

I leaned against the edge of the balcony, staring at the mountains far away. Beyond those mountains laid my home back in Whiterun. My children would be in bed by now, hopefully sleeping. My heart ached; I wanted so badly to be with them now, to tell them bedtime stories and to kiss them goodnight. Gods, how I missed them.

I reminded myself that after this celebration, Vilkas and I were to head home. I would see them again soon enough.

"Well, what's a beautiful lass like yourself doing alone?"

I cracked a weak smile, not turning to face him. "I'm waiting for my husband to come back with a drink. He's taking so long, I wonder if he's chasing after another woman's skirt."

He grunted, sounding thoroughly disgruntled. "I am wounded you'd accuse me of such things."

I turned to face him, smiling a cheeky smile. He, too, was dressed in noble man's clothes. His tunic was black, with blue accents stitched in. His legs were clad in leather pants, and his feet covered by leather boots. The warpaint around his eyes was fresh, giving his already-bright gaze a fiercer edge. Like me, he also wore a wolfskin cloak, but unlike mine, his came directly from Ulfric's wardrobe. The newly-throned Jarl had insisted that Vilkas look just as regal as I did. He would not listen to our protests.

"Don't get your undergarments in a twist, love. I was just teasing." I plucked the mug of ale out of his hand and took a sip. "They're beautiful, aren't they?"

Vilkas joined me at the railing, his own mug balanced on the wall. "The stars? Yes, they are. They're... brighter here somehow, like diamonds."

"Mama and Papa and I used to stargaze on summer nights. We'd lay out on one of Mama's quilts, munch on carrots or apples, and Papa would point out pictures. He used to tell me that the pictures he pointed out were the shapes of the gods, and that was how they watched over us and kept us safe."

"Is it hard for you to be back here?"

I shook my head, even though that was not really true. "It's been years. While I'll never fully get over the loss, I've recovered as much as anyone can." I raised my mug to my lips and took a deep drink. The ale ran down my throat like liquid fire, settling warmly in my stomach. "There's something I need to show you, but it's too late now. We need to leave first thing in the morning."

"Where are we going?"

"Not far. I would like to go now, but I doubt Ulfric would let me leave this late."

Vilkas nodded. "Besides, it's getting cold, and we should both get back to the party." He harrumphed and took a long swig from his cup. "I had to dodge Ulfric twice."

"Sounds like Ulfric." I chuckled and leaned my head against his shoulder. "Let's stay here for a few more minutes."

Vilkas smiled and took my hand in his. "As you wish, dear one."

The pair of us lapsed into silence, taking occasional sips from our mugs and watching the stars. I located some of the same pictures that my father had shown me when I was just a girl, and I found myself fighting back tears. Our stargazing was something sacred in my mind. It was something we did as a family, something we never shared with anyone else.

I had not stargazed since their deaths.

After about a half-hour of quiet, Vilkas cleared his throat. "Ylva, are you all right?"

I blinked, realizing that I had let my tears fall when I felt the dampness on my cheeks. "It's just... remembering Mama and Papa hurts. You'll never get to meet them, our children won't know them." I swallowed hard as more tears rolled down my face. "Gods, I miss them."

Setting down his empty mug, Vilkas turned to face me, pressing his gloved hands to my cheeks. He tilted his head slightly and wiped away the stray tears on my face. "Don't cry, dear one. It's too cold." He pulled me into his arms, holding me tight. "The last thing this army needs is you getting sick."

Sniffling, I managed a weak laugh as I wiped my nose on the back of my glove. "Maybe we should go back inside now."

"You know what? I think the party's died down. Now would be the perfect time to... slip into our quarters. What do you say?"

I pulled away, wrinkling my nose at him. "Do you think we could do it? You think we could actually slip away without getting caught?"

"Sure we could. You're small and I'm quick. It'll be perfect."

I slapped his chest. "I'm not small."

"You are to me." He craned his neck, kissing the tip of my nose. "We'd better hurry, though, before someone figures out where we've been hiding."

I smiled and nodded. "You're right. Let's go."

With a cheeky grin, Vilkas took my hand in his and pulled me towards the doorway. We tiptoed down the stairs and back into the main hall. The massive tables had been laden with dozens of platters, all with a different kind of food. Servants in the corners kept the platters full, so even this late into the party, the table was just as heavy with delicacies as it had been when the night had begun. Men and women mingled through the hall, laughing and boasting about some old story or another. Music came from the three bards standing near the throne, a soft melody contrasting with the rough-accented voices of the soldiers.

Vilkas and I hung close to the far wall, keeping a keen eye out for Ulfric. He was the only one who would try to stop us. We had to be careful; if he caught us, we might never get to sleep.

Thankfully, we escaped the party without a hitch. Vilkas and I slipped into the narrow hallway leading to the upper levels of the Palace, shutting the heavy door as quietly as we could. We crept up the hallway and took the second right, which led us straight to our bedroom.

I let out a heavy sigh as Vilkas closed and locked our bedroom door behind us. "We made it."

"At least we can get out of these ridiculous clothes now." He unfastened his cloak and shrugged it off his shoulders. He folded it carefully and set it down on a dresser adjacent to the wall.

"Thank the gods for that." I unfastened my own cloak, but I let it drop to the floor and stay there. "I don't mind attending parties, but I hate being treated like a deity wherever I go. I guess I've just gotten so used to the people in Whiterun treating me like... well, a normal person, that I've forgotten that there are people who still see me as a goddess."

Wiping the warpaint off his face, Vilkas set down the cloth he had used and approached me. Carefully, he lifted the circlet off my brow, then started to undo my crown braid. He ran his fingers through my hair to untangle it, and when he was finished, he pressed a soft and gentle kiss to my forehead. "You're the savior of Tamriel, Ylva. People can't just overlook that."

"You did. You never looked at me differently."

"Am I people?"

"No."

"I knew you didn't want to be seen differently, so I tried my best to remember that you were still human. Not everyone remembers or wants to remember that."

"Half the people at the party tonight wouldn't have wanted to know me if I weren't Dragonborn."

"And that's the half that doesn't matter, Ylva. The people who are worth knowing are the people who don't care about your dragon blood. Just remember that, okay?" He led me over to the bed in the center of the room, where he knelt down in front of me and helped me slip my boots off. "Don't worry about it, love. We have a big day tomorrow and we should get some sleep." After kicking his own boots off, he walked to the far side of the room, standing in front of a dresser. He opened the top drawer, pulled out a few pieces of clothing, then came back to me. He handed me a tunic and woolen leggings, both freshly washed.

"Ulfric told me that he had our clothes washed and brought here," said Vilkas as he changed into a pair of cotton pants. "I'm just glad that turned out to be true."

I quickly dressed in the clothes he handed me, then crawled under the blankets on the bed. Vilkas soon joined me, wrapping both arms around me and nuzzling into the back of my neck. I smiled, a feeling of warmth spreading throughout my body. I closed my eyes and welcomed the peaceful sleep that came.

-------

We woke at dawn, dressed in our armor, and ate a rushed breakfast in our room before heading outside to the stables. We mounted our horses, much to the curiosity of the stablehands, and headed southwest on the road leading to Kynesgrove. We rode at a gentle pace, watching the sun rise and bring light to the land.

"Ylva, where are we going?" asked Vilkas after we had put Windhelm far behind us. We had bypassed Kynesgrove, continuing down a lesser-known road. "I've never been down this road before."

"That doesn't surprise me." I slapped Kes with the reins, encouraging him to trot a little faster. "Not much farther."

"Why aren't you telling me where we're going?"

"You'll get your answers soon enough, Vilkas."

We rode in silence after that, with only the sounds of our horses' hooves passing between us. The farther we rode, the more anxious I became. Anxious, and saddened. I had not seen it in years. Since before I joined the Companions. What if bandits had raided it? Taken it apart in search of riches? What if there was nothing left?

My fears were put to rest when I spotted the shell that had been my childhood home in the distance. My throat tightened at the sight of the crumbling stone and charred wood.

Beside me, Vilkas let out a soft "Oh."

We tied our horses to the remains of the front gate. I stepped over the broken wood, walked up the stone pathway, and ducked under the broken doorframe. Nothing had changed in the past nine years. Decay had not even seemed to touch the ruins; it was as though nature itself were paying its respects to my parents be preserving what remained here.

"Oh, Ylva...."

I glanced over my shoulder at Vilkas, watching him as he tried to take everything in. He looked to the burned husk of the stairs leading to the loft, he looked at the empty fireplace, he looked at the floor, where my parents had been when they died.

"My father built this house when he was seventeen," I said just to break the silence. "He built it for my mother, as a way of proving himself to her father. He wanted to show her father that he could provide for a wife. They were middle-class merchants; my father was a carpenter. He told my grandfather, 'Give me a year, and I'll have a house for your daughter.' My grandfather agreed, and my father spent every day of his seventeenth year building this house. He worked nonstop, constantly improving the design, adding a cellar and a bigger loft. He almost didn't finish in time. But he pulled it off, and when it was time to reveal it to my mother and grandfather, my father couldn't have been prouder. When my grandfather said that he approved, my father got down on one knee, right here." I pointed to the center of the room, in front of the fireplace. "He proposed to my mother. She said yes, of course, and they were married in the front yard three months later."

"Your father obviously built this place to last."

"That's how he built everything. 'Never do anything halfway, Ylva,' he always told me. 'If you're going to do something, do it right, and do it well.'" A sob worked its way into my throat, choking me. "I can still remember his voice."

Vilkas pulled me into his arms and let me cry against his chest. And cry I did. I wept like I had never wept before. Vilkas rocked me back and forth as I cried, one hand gently cupped against the back of my head, and the other rubbing my back. He shushed me, saying, "It's okay. It's okay," over and over until I finally got my sobs under control.

"I wish I could've met them," he said as the last of my tears fell.

"You would've loved them, and they would've loved you. Mama would've knitted you tons of socks and scarves to keep you warm."

He chuckled, kissing my forehead before craning his neck to face the fireplace again. He stared deep into the hearth, as though seeing something that I could not. Then, he took a deep breath and shifted his gaze to the sky. "If you can hear me, you have a lovely daughter. She's the best wife any man could ever wish for, and the best mother I have ever seen. I know that comes from your upbringing, and I thank you for raising her the way you did." He hugged me even tighter to his chest. "You don't have to worry about her. I'm going to take good care of her for you."

I buried my face in his chest and started weeping again. "Oh, Vilkas...."

He patted my back, kissing my forehead. "It's okay, dear one. It's okay."