Balgruuf the Great chapter 31 preview (Patreon)

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Irileth/Cecilia

The fireplace flickered.

Irileth stood sentinel as the sound of a mirror being picked up echoed in the room. There was a low hum as Balgruuf used the mirror to glance at his cheek. The Nord ticked to himself as he put down the mirror on the table in front of him. He sighed in his seat.

"Fucking vampire, I swear I hate the bastards," the Nord muttered, his mood not well. "Just one scratch and it's enough to damn you to being a daedra's pet for eternity. Some people would find the immortality a good thing but frankly speaking, I'd rather not be a servant of the Prince of Rape."

He was rambling again, as he was won't to do sometimes. All she could do at such moments was to listen and give her opinion. "Even then and if I wanted to, there far better bloodlines to become a vampire. Doesn't Skyrim have its own vampires?"

Irileth's hands were folded to her chest, her back against the wall as she listened to her lord rant and rave. "Bah, only power desperate fools would want to become a vampire. I rather like to be in the sun. It's nice, warm, and makes me tingly all over."

Glowing red eyes stared at him.

Blue Nordic ones looked back.

"I was rambling again, wasn't I?" the Nordic lord asked. She nodded, still keeping her back against the wall. He sighed, running a hand through his golden locks. He picked up the mirror, staring into the scar on his face before putting it back down. "I'm going to have to grow my beard longer, hide the scar." Balgruuf declared, wincing at his wound.

As soon as they had secured victory on the plains, Balgruuf had ordered the camp secured for study. With that given, he and some members of the group rode back as hard as they could for Whiterun. There, they then made their way for the Temple of Kynareth where he had the priests clean and dress his wound, while also blessing him three times over. And if that wasn't enough, a visit to the local alchemist saw him chugging down bottles that would clear disease. An over-reaction one could say but with vampirism a very real disease, it didn't hurt to be cautious.

When everything was done and Balgruuf was satisfied that he was sufficiently cleansed, he retreated back into his room and for hours, did not say anything or even go outside. Irileth knew him long enough to recognize a man needing space and had decided to stand guard out of his room, explaining to those trying to get in that he was exhausted. It was much much later that she could hear him call for her and she went inside, finding him in his robes and looking into his scar.

Which brought her to now.

There was a slight straining of wood as Balgruuf leaned back on his chair, his eyes directed towards the fireplace. His chest heaved up and down as he breathed, his earlier casualness from earlier replaced by a certain brevity Irileth could not place. "We have..." Balgruuf began, his tone searching as he gathered his thoughts. His tone turned more lucid as he found what he wanted to say "We have fought everything from Dominion mages to dremora and whatnot. But out of all of those, I have never ever felt more afraid of death, of oblivion, than being faced down by that vampire earlier."

A recollection of his thoughts then, Irileth recognized. There were many moments in their tenure together that she had known when her master needed someone to talk to, or just someone to listen to him without the flair of politics.

Now was one of those times.

Silently, the Dunmeri nightblade moved forward and took a chair. Depositing it next to him, she sat down to listen to him more closely. Balgruuf made no word of her movement, content to continue speaking. "I suppose fighting Reachmen, the Elves, it is a sort of one deal. We fight and die, I get sent to Sovngarde. There's something waiting for me and it will be good. But with vampires..."

Gently, she placed her hand on his. He had started to shake but as soon as she touched him, he stopped. He smiled briefly, comfort and safety flashing in his eyes as he continued. "With vampires, Coldharbour awaits. With werewolves, Hircine's Hunting Grounds. With Dagon, the Deadlands. The other princes, they have their own places. Each one...nothing but the worst hells. Realms of pure torture and suffering."

She squeezed his hand tighter, her expression soft. The haunted look in his eyes slowly vanished, a sort of lucid realization coming to his eyes. he sighed once more, "I....I've been arrogant," he whispered as if he was confessing something dangerous. "I've been living this life for so long thinking that nothing was going to happen to me. I forgot how easy it was to die for people like us and unlike those men and women of fate, I am jailed to this realities rules. If that's going to be how it is, then so be it."

He closed his eyes, his grip on the handles of his chair tight. Then, his grip lessened as he opened his eyes. There, Irileth found iron. "But I'm not going to make it easy. If death wants to claim me, it's going to have to work for it."

Balgruuf stood up from his chair. Irileth let her hold on him go as to let him stand. He strode forward and marched before his fireplace. Above, a banner of Whiterun was unfurled proudly. He glanced up at it, his back turned against her. He then turned around to her, calling her name. "Irileth,"

She quickly stood, recognizing the commanding tone he used. "My Lord," she said in response.

"I'm sorry, for my arrogance. And my stupidity. I swear to you now, it will not happen again," Balgruuf declared with utter finality.

The Dunmer stood ramroad straight. "There is nothing to apologize for, my lord."

He snorted. "Nonsense, I made that decision to attack without consulting you. Next time and before I make decisions, I will listen to the advice that you will have, and what my future council will have. No man rules alone, after all. So with that, I'm going to have to count on you, Irileth."

Irileth took a breath. "I am honored, my lord."

He smiled. "Then let's get to work,"

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Instead of them getting to work, it was work finding them.

"'My Jarl, my Jarl, I have news!" a Nord ran in, crying out. In his hand, he held a scroll that was quickly handed over to the Steward. Aged hands took ahold of it and held it aloft. His eyes widened as he handed it over to the Jarl. He read it, eyes poring through the contents of the scroll quickly before he set it aside.

He seemed to smile at Balgruuf before turning to the assembled men. "My lords and ladies, I have received word that Lady Cecilia Tullius has crossed the border and is on her way here to Whiterun. In that light, I announce that all official business of the court shall be suspended to prepare for the wedding of my son with the noble house of Tullius!"

It was with those words that Whiterun found itself whipped into a frenzy of activity. Of course, it was all a matter of formality as everything was already planned ever since Balgruuf chose his bride to be. To declare it just made it official that Whiterun was going to be busy. It wasn't just the scribes, the servants, and other such persons getting busy but also the groom to be. The wind bit at irileth's face as she and a party of officials sat on their saddles. the White River flowing every so quietly nearby. If she moved a bit forward, the foam from the waterfall would have kissed her skin. Flags fluttered in the breeze, the golden stallion of Whiterun flying amidst the light of orange-yellow torches. She resisted the urge to sneeze as she took her place next to Balgruuf. He was clad in a fine yellow tunic clasped over by a cloak of gold. She had earlier remarked how Balgruuf was more nervous about this than the bride to his dismissive roll of the eyes. A part of her....well....she still felt quite...lost on how to feel on all this.

After all this time, she still loved Balgruuf. And she was more than confident that Balgruuf loved her.

But they knew and understood their places in society and the duties the had to fulfil. And for that, Irileth was willing to stifle her happiness for the sake of the city and the people they served.

"There they are," Balgruuf observed. Irileth had of course seen and heard them coming way before any of the Men here did thanks to her elvish hearing and sight. The party was descending quickly but not hastily down the cliff road. By her estimate, there were hundreds of riders clad in varying styles of armor but each one sported at least some level of plate. Irileth noted that they rode with discipline and the aura they gave certainly told her that should it come to a fight, they were certainly a cut above the Reachmen they had fought way back. Her eyes then travelled right to the head of their procession, two individuals catching her eye. The first being Balgruuf's bride to be. The closer the party rode, the more obvious it became that the woman was a great beauty. Her skin shone from obvious care and maintenance. Her apparel, she wore black and gold riding leathers, a white shirt tufted underneath her riding jacket. Her hair, brown as mahogany, was kept free flowing in the wind. Riding next to her was a man clad in the armor of the Legion, a red tunic with a general's steel plate over it. His eyes were steely and a certain august aura surrounded him.  

"Well, time to get to know the wife,'' Balgruuf whispered to her, putting on a smile as he urged his horse forward to meet her. Irileth resisted the urge to follow and held on to her saddle as the Imperial party gradually slowed their galloping. The Imperial officer spoke first. ''Hail, Nords of Whiterun. I am Servius Tullius, cousin to Cecilia Tullius. To who do I speak to?" Servius Tullius voice was raspy, probably coming from a lifetime of shouting and yelling orders but there was nevertheless an edge of authority and respectability on him.

Balgruuf stopped his horse and saluted the man, a closed fist to the chest. ''Welcome, future Cousin in Law. I am Balgruuf of Whiterun, the man who will marry your cousin. I and my party have rode out to greet you before you arrived in the city,'' he deftly replied, his smile still warm and welcoming. Tullius seemed to scan Balgruuf for a moment before nodding.

''A pleasure to meet you formally, Lord Balgruuf,'' Cecilia greeted him. Her voice was deep, slightly husky for Irileth's tastes. She watched as the woman strode forward, her horse stopping just shy next to Balgruuf's. Eyes green like amber glittered. "'My cousin spoke fondly of you and wished to discuss with you on the strategies that you used in Cyrodiil during the war, though he is shy to admit it.''

Tulluis for his part coughed awkwardly. Cecilia scoffed, eyeing her cousin before turning back to Balgruuf. ''I do not intend to let shyness come between any of us. We are to be family after all. Is that not right, my lord?"" the woman asked. Balgruuf smiled.

""As we are to become family, call me Balgruuf. Come, let us ride together and you can tell me of your journey from Cyrodiil to here.''

Cecilia offered him a smile. ''As my husband to be wishes.''

With that, both parties mingled and the tot-tot of horses hooves echoed in the air. Irileth hedged her horse forward to quietly ride by her Lord's side who had started to converse with his bride to be.

She gripped the reigns of her horse.

She was not jealous.

She was not jealous at all.

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Cecilia

Nothing was more glorious for any Tullius than to do their duty. For family, for the Empire and for its Emperor.

Cecilia could take history books and count the number of her kin the had gave their lives for the Empire. Hell, she potentially had some family far back that claimed they served the Alessian Order in ages long past. And she wouldn''t be able to get in on any of that.

Of course, there was still honor in fulfilling her role. She was to marry a notable hero and the son of a major Jarl to boot so should there be any children, she didn't really have to worry for them. Still, she was young. She had hoped to at least make a name for herself before she would have to settle down but it was not like she had any choice in the matter. Besides, this was for her own safety as well. Staying in Cyrodiil wasn't the most ideal, especially since...

She shook her head. It was going to sour her mood in thinking about Cyrodiilic politics when she was supposed to be here to think about her future.

Well, she could only hope that Balgruuf wouldn't be boring. That would drive her mad.

"So, Cecilia, how was your journey from Cyrodiil?"Balgruuf asked, their horses trotting on the stone road as their retainers followed after them. Cecillia mulled at his question. A standard ice breaker and it did indicate some interest to her wellbeing.

''It was quite the travel, Balgruuf," she replied. ''My cousin made the journey bearable and there was plenty to see on the road."

Two men stood by the road, merchants, from their attire. They saluted them, a closed fist held to their chests. Balgruuf did the same, saluting back. Cecilia wondered if she would have to do the same and idly, her eyes turned to her gloved hand. She would have to after all. She was to marry into a Nordic house.

"Us Nords are a proud people," Balgruuf explained, seeing that she had questions. ''We do not bow our heads, nor do we get on our knees.''

''Like this?'' Cecilia tried, closing her fist onto her chest just like how Balgruuf had done. He grinned, clear delight in his eyes as he saluted back at her. "Oh yes! Just like that!'' Balgruuf chuckled, later adding  ''We'll make a proper Nord out of you, Cecilia!''

''You will have to instruct me then, my lord,'' said Cecilia, her green eyes blinking. Balgruuf chuckled, a low smile on his lips. ''As my lady asks, I will obey.''

The party went up through the road, and into the main road where the first gate to Whiterun stood. Cecilia noted the banners and the guards all standing at attention. Guardsmen stood side by side on the road in full gear, they were sentinel to their party entering Whiterun, armor gleaming and speartips glinting. They ascended up the road and into the second most gate of Whiterun. Now, the guards were becoming much more elaborate, their armor more and more finer. The gates were swung wide open and Cecilia was beheld to the rising cheers of welcome crowds.

She understood the finery and greetings. She was to be their future Countess after all. She held up her hand, waving at the people and with that, their cheers and greetings seemed to grow larger.

"They like you,"Balgruuf interjected, waving back at the people. "Choosing to arrive on a warhorse and not a carriage certainly makes you look good in their eyes.''

''I am glad to play my part, except that I refuse to ride carriages when I can. I'm an excellent rider, Balgruuf,'' she replied.

"You will have to show me how best you ride a stallion then,'' He added, much to Cecilia's eyeroll.

''Oh, you have a stallion for me to ride? I would very much like to see him for myself," Cecilia added, noting the teasing tone he was using. If this Nord thought she was some soft waif that would blush and cover her eyes, he had another thing coming.

''Are you sure? The stallion is quite a handful, not very prone to being handled by inexperienced hands." Balgruuf said in a matter of fact tone. Was he trying to figure out if she had lain with someone before? Cecilia couldn't figure him out.

''I will show you, my lord, that I am skilled in that area. I have been taught by my mother on how best to handle unruly stallions as part of my education. She made sure of it that I knew how to do my duty and do it well," she said silently, cringing as he remembered the lessons that her mother had oh so helpfully made her learn. It was a embarrassing and humiliating thing to learn about but she had to do it, if it meant having a good marriage.

''Your mother made you learn how to do it? Is it a common thing to be taught to Cyrodiilic noblewomen?' Balgruuf asked, curiosity in his eyes and voice.

She cleared her throat. Why did she have to start this sort of conversation with him? ''Not that I know of, my mother had always been a strange sort of woman, insisting I learn things that otherwise most ladies wouldn't touch. I cannot speak for other families regarding my...education. Why, were you expecting it to be common?'

Balgruuf shook his head. ''Oh no, I was just curious. After all, different cultures and all. Here in Whiterun at least, we are taught on how to take care of horses from a younger age. For peasants, the family horse is what they rely on for travel and to carry goods for trade. For us nobles, the horse is the symbol of Whiterun and so, we tend to take care of them ourselves." He ended with a smile, ruffling his horse's head softly.

Cecilia blinked, the clip-clopping of horses hooves and the cheering of the crowd the only thing she was registering. Balgruuf pulled back from the horse, turning to her, a bushy blonde eyebrow raised. ''Is something wrong?''

She cleared her throat, turning away to glance at the crowds. ''No....nothing is wrong at all''

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"Welcome, welcome, to Dragonsreach, my lady!" Jarl Heorot's voice was booming as Cecilia and Balgruuf stood before the court. ''I hope you find Dragonsreach agreeable to you?''

They had earlier arrived into Dragonsreach proper and as one, went into the Great Hall. Dragonsreach was no Cyrodiil, surely, but it still had a certain beauty and majesty on its own. The carved arches and fashioned wooden panelling to its walls was certainly beautiful. And the massive dragon skull that stood above the Jarl's throne was something to behold. In her readings, the skull according to legend belonged to Numinex, a dragon that had been slain by Olaf One-Eye, who then ruled Whiterun. And if legends were to believed, Dragonsreach itself was built to trap and combat dragons.

Well, whatever combat use it had was rendered moot as there were no longer any dragons for it to fight. And it wasn't as if there were going to be any new dragons anytime soon.

Every single inch in Cecilia's mind, molded by court protocol, urged her to bow but remembering the impromptu lesson given to her by Balgruuf, she instead stood tall and lifted her eyes to the Jarl. She closed her fist and held it to her chest. "My Jarl, I am pleased to be here. Skyrim is as beautiful as they say though the cold is biting. I'm still at the moment a stranger to your customs but in time and with your son's help, I will soon call this castle and this country home.''

The Jarl smiled, pleased at her reply. And from her side-view, she could see the nobles, the thanes, and the housecarls nodding in appreciation of her words. She didn't particularly like to play politics, going out to kill something was more her style, but she had to play it anyway. And if she wanted to make sure her stay here would be pleasant, she would have to adapt to the local customs and make friends with the local leaders. Then again, she was planning to do it anyway as she was marrying into a Nordic house.

"Then come forward and embrace me and my wife, as parents to a daughter!" The Jarl boomed, holding his hands aloft on his throne for such a embrace. Cecilia blinked at the request but nevertheless she walked forward. Balgruuf's mother was easy enough to embrace but with the Jarl, she had to awkwardly bend a little bit down to embrace him. Embrace him she did however and before the Jarl released her, he smiled at her. ''Balgruuf is a honourable man. Be honest with him, and just be yourself with my son. He will love you more if you be yourself than be someone else." He whispered to her.

''My Jarl?'' Cecilia blinked.

''Just some advice in dealing with my son. Be yourself, don't be shy, and be his advisor. Those are the things he values as a man. Now, go and make merry, my lady,'' Jarl Heorot ended with a wink before releasing her. At his side, Wealhtheow nodded, smiling at her. Cecilia hadn't expected such warmth from her new family to be but the smiles on their faces and the glints in their eyes certainly told her that they were genuinely invested in seeing her marriage with Balgruuf work.

''I had been planning on doing all those since the beginning, my Jarl, my Lady.'' Cecilia whispered.

''Oh, my sweet daughter,'' Jarl Heorot laughed. ''Please, call me father."

''And I, mother," Wealhtheow added, smiling.

Cecilia felt like she wanted to say something, but whatever she wanted to say died in her throat as she gave them a small dip of the head and pulled back. Balgruuf raised his eyebrow, seeing her approach. "Did they tell you anything particularly strange?"

She shook her head. ''Oh, nothing strange. Nothing strange at all.''

Perhaps she was going to enjoy her time here after all.

A/N: This is a really rough draft for how I want this chapter to go. It is still quite unfinished, friends. I'll be polishing up and adding more soon.

NOTE: This took way too long. Now, I can move onto the next chappier ter