Stallion of Whiterun (Skyrim Balgruuf SI) Chapter 13 (Patreon)

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Jarl Heorot's morning could never have been better. His Hold was good and prosperous, the roads were relatively safe and secure, his family was whole again with his boys finally back after five years of war and Skyrim was out of the chaos in the south. There was food aplenty to eat, mead and ale to drink, and music to listen and enjoy. The skies were ever blue and his lands rich with game to hunt, hostile creatures to fight, and women to bed. Not that he would actually do that more or his wife would have his heads, the one on his shoulders and the one between his legs.

All in all, what more could a man want?

And thus, he was munching on a wonderful breakfast on the Great Porch with his Housecarl standing watch behind him, his wife had decided to take a walk in the markets with Hrongar and Freydis, happily eating away at a oatmeal filled with berries and nuts when one of his aforementioned boys marched up, his Dunmer night-blade in tow. He could sense her and his own housecarl exchanging a glance. Hers was glaring, his was amused. He set aside his spoon and smiled as Balgruuf came close.

"Ah, Balgruuf! Have you eaten breakfast yet? Come and join me," Heorot greeted his boy. His smile faltered slightly when he saw the expression on his firstborn's face. Balgruuf, he had a look of concern on him. "What's wrong?" he quickly asked, getting down to the meat of it. From behind, Wiglaf and Irileth shared steely looks with each other.

Balgruuf replied quickly. "Father, I found something in the basement. The one with the seals. Do you know what I am talking about?"

Immediately, Heorot's expression fell. His mind thought of a long dark hallway and a quaint door at the end that reeked of malice and spite. "...Yes, I know what you are talking about." Heorot said, taking a breath. "Mind telling me how and why you found it?"

"I thought about exploring Dragonsreach to find security flaws and I began with the basement," Balgruuf replied with a tone that suggested it was normal to take walks in dark hallways. "That's how Irileth and I found the door. Now, we know what lies behind that. Father, why is it still there?"

"We couldn't get rid of it," Heorot said bluntly. "We tried. Fire, tossed it into the sea, flattened it, tried to break it...the list goes on and on. It simply came back. So, the next best thing we could think of was just sealing it in the deep and dark."

"It needs to be out of Whiterun, Father. We cannot just let that thing stay under us for too long," Balgruuf asserted, walking over to his father's table and sitting next to him. He leaned in, eyes glittering with haste. "You know who exactly is under there. The longer that it stays there, the more I am confident it will somehow find a way to slip through the cracks and affect anyone of us. It needs to go."

"As I said, we tried everything. It did not work," Heorot said bluntly. 

"Not even banishing it back into Oblivion?" Balgruuf tried. His expression faltered as Heorot shook his head. 

"We tried that too. Imagine our surprise when the damned thing appeared in the same place a day later," Heorot sighed. 

"We need a mage," Balgruuf said, palming his face. He looked up and turned towards Irileth. "Irri, can you go downstairs and fetch the Court Mage for us?" Irileth nodded and turned on her heels, having recieved a quest from her lord. As she walked away, Balgruuf could feel Heorot's eyes boring onto him. 

"You are fond of her," Heorot said simply. His tone suggested more. Balgruuf wheeled back and nodded. 

"Aye," he said simply. 

"You realize you will have to take a wife someday. Your fondness will have to end," Heorot said. Balgruuf's expression morphed briefly into anger before he schooled himself. 

"I shall have to go without wife then," he shrugged. Heorot frowned at his son's seeming nonchalance. 

"You are my firstborn. Whiterun and everything in it will be yours. You must wed, sooner or later. And from that, you must have an heir," Heorot said seriously, his easy-going aura gone. In this moment, he was no longer the air-headed and joy loving drinker. He was now the Jarl. Balgruuf met his gaze unflinchingly. 

"I already have an heir," Balgruuf bit back, his eyes glowing with fire. "And he too already has a child. Our family is secure, Father." 

"Balgruuf. The people will accept it better in knowing the firstborn has a child, not the second one. Hrongar is a mighty warrior but you and I know that he is too hot-headed, too warlike." Heorot said, his voice one of counselling. "Being war-like is natural to our people. But there is a limit to it. Whiterun cannot have a berserker lead it. You know it as well as I do." 

Balgruuf's clicked his tongue in annoyance. Yet he understood his father was telling the truth. He had fought with Hrongar for five years. That was more than enough time to know his brother would be too passionate to be an effective Jarl. Passion was well and good, he himself flirted with it. There was such a thing as having too much of it however and if Hrongar had his way which Balgruuf knew would happen, rasher decisions would be made that would affect the Hold negatively. He leaned back. 

"I'll just marry her instead," he offered. "If that is what you are so concerned about." 

"And what advantage will that give for Whiterun?" Heorot quizzed him. "What lands and titles does she have? Will Whiterun gain allies? Boons?" 

"I love her," Balgruuf said firmly. 

Heorot sighed as he regarded his firstborn. It was clear enough that Balgruuf would not budge on this. He understood that the bond his son and the dunmer shared was forged through war. Fighting together established a unique bond that not many would understand. It made something stronger than steel, enduring longer than the best armor. He scratched the underside of his beard as he looked into Balgruuf's eyes and saw nothing but determination. He had one final question to ask. "And what about your duty, Balgruuf. What about your duty to the Hold?" 

"I see no reason why I cannot mix duty with love," Balgruuf scoffed. He leaned in, his hands on the table. "Raising my housecarl as my wife is not unheard of, father. In time, Irileth will prove her worth to our people and she will be accepted as one of our own. That is our way of things. Eventually, they will accept that." 

"And what of our peers? The merchants of the Plains District? The Thanes and Nobles of the Wind District? Do you think they will accept a foreign Dunmer over their daughters or sisters?" Heorot asked. He and Wealhtheow had already received interesting offers from the best families in Whiterun. Some of the offers were already noted with great interest. 

"They'll have to just cope and seethe, then," Balgruuf said dismissively. "Irileth can do things they can't. And I will not accept having a grocer sit beside me or a scheming Thane. I will not be beholden to a wife whose family will no doubt ask me to watch over their business or political interests." 

"Your own mother is from such a family, Balgruuf." Heorot said, his voice having a bit of warning in them.

"I did not mean to disrespect mother, my lord," Balgruuf raised his hands placatingly. "We both know though that her blood transcends that of the grocers and the petty-nobles of our city." 

"And you would impart such blood to, in the eyes of our nobility, a nobody." Heorot said. As soon as he finished his sentence, Balgruuf's face darkened. 

"A nobody?" Balgruuf scoffed. "She was the one that had my back when we were bleeding and sweating in Cyrodiil. She was the one that fought at my side from the worst times of the war to the victory at the Red Ring. She is Irileth, she is not a nobody. If they cannot accept my choice of lover and if demanded, wife, then they can take their preening and shove it up thei-" 

It was then footsteps echoed against wood. Irileth had returned and at her side, there was a man at her side. He looked old but he had meticulously kept good care of himself. His shoulder-length hair was gray and on his right eye which was covered by a eyepatch were runic tattoos of some type. He was clad head to toe in olive and brown robes that reeked of magicka, the hood of the robes lowered. 

"The Court Mage," Irileth introduced. 

"Ah, Seiðr," Jarl Heorot greeted the Court Mage. 

The mage bent his head slightly in obeisance. "You called, my lord?" he spoke, his voice a rumble. The Jarl nodded. 

"Aye, my adventurer of a son is in need of your skills," said Heorot. Balgruuf leaned back on his chair, lounging freely as he offered the Court Mage a smile. 

"There you are, you old dog. Where were you? I did not see you at the feast. Don't tell me you don't miss me?" said Balgruuf. The mage offered him an apologetic look. 

"I am sorry, my lord. I was busy conducting an experiment," Seiðr said. 

"An experiment? What kind?" Balgruuf asked, raising an eyebrow. 

"I am obligated to your father not to reveal it, my lord. It was a task he had asked me to do," Seiðr said apologetically yet again. Balgruuf shrugged, not really interested in the meticulous workings of mages. Seiðr then continued. "Now, you had in need of me, my lord?" 

Balgruuf nodded. "Aye. I know of that thing that sits in the basement." At that, the mage's expression shifted from polite disinterest to alarm. Balgruuf continued to speak. "I am not keen to have such a thing under there any longer. Do you have any ideas on how to get rid of the damn thing?" 

"That thing, my lord, is the Ebony Blade. And the blade is not something so easily discarded," Seiðr revealed, earning a look of recognition in Irileth. 

"So that is what actually lies behind the door," Irileth trailed musingly. "I had ideas on what could be behind it. I did not expect it to be the actual blade."

Seiðr turned to Irileth. "You know of the Blade?" 

Irileth nodded. She paused for a moment to think on how best to explain herself. She settled on a modified truth. "My training included an education. I know that the Blade is ancient and powerful. But it will corrupt those who will wield it. It cannot be used." 

"At risk to myself, its actual power now is weak. It has not tasted treachery in awhile, locked underground as it is. It can only whisper." Seiðr revealed. "However, a whisper is more than enough for treachery and dark thoughts to start." 

"Which is why that needs to go. It is unwanted and unneeded. Question is, how?" Balgruuf said. 

"Those before me have tried to banish it, it simply appeared again." Seiðr said. "Daedric artifacts can only be removed if its owner deigned it to be removed. Its continuous re-appearance in the basement suggests that the Lady of Whispers has a web here and only time will tell what her interest is." 

"So we can't fucking get rid of it?" Balgruuf said with a tick, annoyance in his voice. 

"A suggestion, my lord. If we can pierce what sort of desire the Lady of Whispers has and fulfilling it, perhaps we could get rid of it that way." Seiðr suggested. It however earned a look of ire from Balgruuf. 

"I am not having anyone of us here do something sordid and please a Daedric Prince of all people," Balgruuf trailed. He turned to Irileth, his eyes shining as an idea popped into his head. "Irileth, out of all the people here, you are more than capable of dealing with such a thing. You know people. Would these people be interested in such an artifact?" 

Irileth lips quivered in displeasure. She had already sworn off doing anything even related to her past. The last thing she wanted to do was to send them word of her whereabouts and let them know she was alive. But if this meant getting rid of the Blade, she was willing to put up with it. Better that than letting it stay under their feet and influence weaker minds. She answered after a moment's thought. "They would be, my lord. Though I am not aware of any such contacts here in Skyrim." 

"And by people...I can only think of one group who would be interested in a artifact of Mephala," Wiglaf spoke, silent as he was most of the time. He levelled a look towards Irileth. "Where you one of them, nightblade?"

"No longer. My allegiance is with Balgruuf now." Irileth said firmly, meeting the Housecarl's gaze and not backing down. "I fought with him for five years, housecarl. My loyalty is more than earned." 

Wiglaf hummed at that and let the matter rest. Irileth was savvy enough to detect a hint of mistrust from the housecarl. 'We are watching you' was left unsaid. 

"In all of Skyrim, there are two places where such people could be found. Windhelm or in Solstheim though it is no longer part of Skyrim," Jarl Heorot said, rubbing his beard once more. 

"Speaking of parts of Skyrim, father," Balgruuf spoke up. "Do you know where the Jarl of Markarth is?" 

"Last I heard, he had been travelling all over Skyrim trying to raise support to reclaim his home." Jarl Heorot muttered as he racked his memory. "He had visited here a week ago but I said no." 

"And where did he go next?" Balgruuf asked. 

"Windhelm," said Heorot. 

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A/N: Updoot. We are going to WIndhelm next bois and girls.