A/N: I have shamefully neglected this fic. I'm so sorry. So here's a chapter! Whiterun's made its debut and where there's Whiterun there's Companions. And that opens up all sorts of things.

Summary: There's Thalmor in Whiterun and Liriel has very pressing reasons to avoid them. Fortunately Svenja has contacts and one of those contacts can provide shelter, in return for a favour of his own. The result brings guests to Markarth, and opens up a few issues for Madanach... including one that might just save his life.

Liriel had heard the Justiciar's voice and promptly ducked into a corner, huddled up and shaking… and Tyr went after her, because this was not normal Liriel behaviour.

"Liriel, are you all right?" Tyr asked, hand on her shoulder. Liriel shook her head.

"No! That Justiciar, I know him! From home! Our parents are friends, he even tried to court me at one point. It… didn't work out. I told him I was too busy with my studies. He cannot see me, Tyr!"

Tyr looked up to the Stormcloaks Ulfric had sent with them, and to his surprise, Svenja had indicated to the others to form a barrier, all with their arms folded and facing outwards, shielding Liriel from view. Seemed Svenja had opinions on keeping women away from their exes, and the others hated Thalmor enough to go with it.

The argument concluded, and the Imperial delegation filed out, barely glancing at the Stormcloaks.

"Move along, Thalmor," Svenja snarled. "Jarl said you weren't welcome here."

"Don't worry," the Justiciar sniffed. "I'm leaving. Sooner I'm out of this excuse for a city, the better."

Mercifully he didn't even seem to see Liriel, and soon the door closed behind him.

"Are you all right," Tyr whispered to Liriel, who'd practically collapsed in relief.

"No," Liriel whispered. "Gods, Tyr, what if they find out I'm here? They're not leaving the city until tomorrow, and I bet they have agents here! We have to leave! We can make Rorikstead by nightfall, right?"

"Not now you can't, it'll be night riding," Svenja said, not unkindly as she came to stand behind Tyr. "And you risk running into Imperial agents. No, your best bet is staying in Whiterun tonight. Then in the morning, ride for Riverwood instead and via Falkreath Hold. Longer but no Imperials that way any more!"

That was true enough. Still, Liriel didn't seem convinced.

"And if the palace servants talk?" Liriel hissed.

"Then don't stay in the palace," Svenja said, thoughtfully.

"The tavern will be worse," Tyr pointed out. "Unless… do you know someone in the city?"

"Aye, that I do," Svenja admitted. "We… parted on bad terms. But he's got no truck with Thalmor. Or politics in general, really. But if I ask him… he might help you. For one night at least."

It was worth a try. They waited five minutes to make sure the Imperials were gone, and then the three of them filed out.

"It's an upside-down boat?" Liriel whispered, staring up at the wooden building before her. Set on at the top of its own flight of steps, with a carved wooden gateway framing the door, it was clearly important. Not rivalling Dragonsreach, but in some way set apart.

"It's the mead hall of the Companions," Svenja clarified. "Called Jorrvaskr. It was one of the ships belonging to one of the Five Hundred Companions of Ysgramor. After landing at Windhelm, the captain and crew carried the ship with them inland, unwilling to abandon the friend that accompanied them from Atmora. They found the Skyforge already here and built a mead hall, using their ship for timber. It's been here ever since. And there's been an order of warriors called the Companions here ever since. Mercenaries with honour. If you can imagine such a thing. Come on, Tyr, you must have heard of them."

"I've heard of them," Tyr said, looking about him, impressed despite himself. He'd lived and served in Cyrodiil most of his adult life, and was a stranger to Whiterun. He didn't think he'd ever get to see Jorrvaskr.

"Ysgramor. Murderer of the Snow Elves. Wonderful," Liriel said wearily. "Are they going to let me in or tell me to get lost."

"If I ask their Harbinger, they will let you in," Svenja said firmly. "Trust me."

And so they followed her in, and Liriel's worst fears of a hall full of drunken Nords were… not entirely inaccurate, but no fights were actually in progress, tankards were mostly on the table not being waved in the air… but all conversation ceased as Svenja walked in, eyes falling on her Stormcloak officer uniform. And then eyes turned to a man in steel armour with a wolf's head on it, who looked a lot like Svenja but older.

"Father," Svenja said, folding her arms and staring him down. "I… was in the city. I thought I should drop in."

Svenja's father, same dark hair and eyes as his daughter, stared back at her then inclined his head in greeting.

"Sven...ja. Welcome back. You look different somehow."

"The Reach-magic is kicking in," Svenja said gruffly. "I know I'm a Shield-Sister, but now the world will know it too."

And maybe now you'll get my name right, was the unspoken addition there, but Svenja's father, to his credit, nodded.

"Aye. Maybe they will, lass. Tell me, are you still serving with Ulfric Stormcloak? I haven't heard he was here."

"I swore my life and my blade to his service, Father," Svenja said firmly. "And when I told Galmar Stone-Fist I could live as a man no longer, he told me I was a true Nord regardless and called me Svenja. They have my loyalty for that alone. But no, he's not here. I was accompanying the Jarl home with a few others. They're staying at Dragonsreach. But I have two comrades in need of more secure accommodation. This is Tyr and Liriel. They're Blades agents. One of the Justiciars here knows Liriel. She's keen to avoid word of her presence reaching him."

Murmuring among the various assembled Nords, and Svenja's father glanced around, seeing no disapproval here – the reverse in fact. He turned for a final opinion to the man next to him, a man only a little younger than him, only forty something but with pale silver hair already.

"Kodlak, thoughts?"

"Tyr seems a true enough Nord. As for the elf… if she's a Blades agent running from the Thalmor, she's likely a woman of honour. Svenja, lass, is it just a bed for the night you and your friends are here for? Because we could grant you that, could we not, Askar?"

"We can indeed," Svenja's father whose name was Askar said, approving. "Well, Liriel and Tyr, welcome to Jorrvaskr. You need have no fear of any craven talebearers running to the Thalmor here."

Tyr grinned at Liriel, beckoning her over to their seats, vacated by two twins with dark hair, blue eyes and both a lot shorter than Kodlak or Askar were – wait. Kids? Here? Teenagers anyway.

Liriel took a seat next to one, lowering her hood, shaking her hair out.

"You two are rather young for Companions," Liriel remarked. "I'm not good with human ages, how old are you?"

One of them just glared at her but his brother, the bigger one and the one she'd sat next to, seemed a bit more friendly.

"We're fifteen!" he told her. "We've lived here since we were little whelps, but Kodlak says when we're of age next year, we could start doing a few jobs with him. Our father Jergen was a Companion and he raised us here. But he died in the war."

The boy stared back down at his plate full of food, clearly not wanting to talk about this, and Liriel felt bad for asking.

"I'm sorry to hear that," Liriel said softly. It was true enough. Skyrim had never seen much fighting and seemed relatively intact… but its people were clearly bearing the scars. The Stormcloaks mostly didn't seem to hold her past against her – she was their High Elf now, she'd killed more Thalmor than some of them had. It was harder being out in Skyrim and meeting civilians though.

"Thanks," the boy said quietly, and then his surlier brother spoke up.

"Hey. Did you fight in the war too?"

Liriel just nodded, hand instinctively going to Tyr's, because this was a question she'd rather not answer.

"Figured," the boy muttered, before speaking up for the next question. "What side?"

The entire room went quiet, apart from Kodlak hissing the boy's name, which turned out to be Vilkas, because now the question had been asked, people were starting to wonder just what side the Altmer mage had been on. Tyr's hand was squeezing hers, and while he could likely stop this conversation dead, or fight a duel with any of the adults on her behalf, she realised she was really tired of people making assumptions… including that she couldn't defend herself.

"Both," Liriel admitted. "Or rather, I started out as an Aldmeri medic then changed sides after meeting Tyr. He wasn't the reason himself, but he was on a Blades mission hunting Daedra worshippers and I couldn't face going back to working in a Dominion prisoner of war camp. So I went with him. We had several adventures, and it ended with me fighting in the Battle of the Red Ring… on the Empire's side. And now I'm a Stormcloak and citizen of the Reach."

Silence, but at least it was an interested sort of silence rather than the about to start a fight kind.

"You certainly get around, lass," Askar finally said. "How long do you plan to stay in the Reach for?"

"For as long as there's a kingdom to be loyal to," Liriel said, exchanging a glance with Tyr. "King Madanach gave us a home. Tyr and I are very grateful, and tomorrow we're heading back there."

Crisis averted, it seemed. Askar seemed content, at least, and the others were following his lead. Even Vilkas.

"If you're heading back there, there is perhaps something you could help me with," Askar said thoughtfully. "We've had a few contracts come our way regarding affairs in the Reach, but with the current troubles, we had to leave them. Prior to Ulfric heading out there, they were making short work of any we sent. Including Hreya and she was one of our best. Poor Ranulf never got over it. Lives out in the woods of Falkreath in some shack with little Aela. Haven't heard from him in a while. Hope he's all right."

"Was he who you wanted us to find?" Tyr asked, but Askar shook his head.

"No. When things have settled down in Falkreath, I'll go myself, but he's not my biggest concern. My biggest concern is that since the Stormcloak militia decided to join Madanach rather than overthrow him, I've had repeated overtures from one Thongvor Silver-Blood. Seems to think we should be doing Ulfric's job and overthrowing the so-called Reach-King. The coin is good… but we're not resourced to overthrow an entire kingdom. If the Legion can't reclaim it, we shouldn't be trying."

"So why not tell him no?" Tyr asked, not sure where this was going, or why he and Liriel needed to be involved… although Madanach might find this interesting.

"Oh, I plan to," Askar laughed. "But I have my own reservations about the witchmen still. They won't let us in… but they might if we're with you. I'm not asking you to betray any oaths. But the word of the Companions is respected throughout Skyrim. If we were to see for ourselves what the Kingdom is like, we could tell the Jarls King Madanach is worth treating with rather than overthrowing. Just travel with some of our number and get them to Markarth so they can have a look round."

"I don't see why no- what is it?" Tyr asked, aware of Liriel nudging him.

"We are already in trouble with the King over Cicero, and you're going to risk his wrath further by bringing several Nord mercenaries in?" Liriel hissed. "How many are we talking about here? He finds out you brought in a troop of Companions in, he's going to kick you out! Or execute you! And I don't… I found a home, Tyr, somewhere to live where people like me and no one wants me to clear up after they've finished torturing someone, and I can't… don't ask me to choose between you and my home. Please."

And then behind her, it was Kodlak who spoke up.

"If I may… we only need one adult observer, am I correct? He can hardly complain about one man who just wants to have a look round. And if you think he might… is he fond of children?"

"He's got five of them," Liriel said, turning to face him, wondering what Kodlak had in mind. "And he's a good parent. They like him and aren't scared of him."

"So he won't mind a humble pilgrim of Talos bringing his two wards with him on an educational visit then," Kodlak said, glancing at the boys, who'd both perked up on hearing this.

"Wait, you're taking us?" Vilkas gasped, suddenly looking a lot younger as the surly look vanished.

"Aye, if you want to go," Kodlak said, nodding, and both boys only just contained their excitement.

"Can I go pack?" Vilkas asked, glancing down at an empty plate. Next to him, his brother hastily swallowed an entire chicken breast, before chewing the remains of his bread and downing the contents of his half-pint tankard so he could claim to be finished with dinner.

"Yes you may. Wear your leather armour. And bring your weapons. We're not going to fight, but you should be prepared, just in case."

"Yes!" Vilkas gasped, face lighting up and both boys disappeared to the living quarters downstairs to start packing.

"They've both been a bit out of sorts since their father died," Kodlak explained, watching them go with sadness in his eyes. "Vilkas especially. He feels things rather more than his brother. Farkas isn't often troubled by anything but he misses his father and worries about his brother. They're good boys though. I think a trip out will do them good."

It would also make a good excuse to Madanach as to why they brought Kodlak of the Companions with them in the first place. Also it occurred to Liriel Cicero might like some friends of his own age. They might not get on, of course, but she had a feeling it might smooth things over with Madanach.

It was fair to say Mei was not good at being a patient. Or helpless. Or weak, sick or injured. It was also fair to say Keirine's restoration magic was not remotely equipped to heal her to full health just yet, and that the journey had been trying. Ryu had had to pluck her off the boat and run with her in his arms all the way to Deepwood Vale because she couldn't manage horses yet, and poor Cicero had had to ride in later on a horse that was far too big for him. Thankfully Keirine had sat with him in raven form throughout, and he'd had Vanya on the other horse for company.

She'd spent the day fed up and able to do little more than sleep in a bed at Hag Rock Redoubt, and it was a mercy the carriage had arrived in the interim. Twenty four hours after arriving, more or less, and she'd finally found herself on a cart to Markarth, Cicero and Ryu with her in the back and Vanya riding up front. Ryu was stoic and silent, but Cicero held her hand and chattered near constantly, smile bright but underneath it all, she could tell he was anxious. What about, she wasn't entirely sure, but she had a feeling he was trying to make an impression on her.

Still, he seemed to perk up as they neared the city and he started recognising the landscape, pointing features out and apparently having memorised the local names for various otherwise indistinguishable features, even pronouncing the Reach-Tongue names well enough that Vanya was praising him for it.

Someone was fitting in rather well around here. Probably better than she was. Mei supposed it helped he was still very much a boy. Easier for children to adapt. Much harder for adults. Home was Northwind Mining Village, with Keenan waiting for her when she came home, and Brynjar her brother in arms turning up with a Blades assignment, and little Kaidan in his crib. It wasn't the Reach's grey, forbidding crags and stubby juniper trees, and the singsong accents of the Reach folk, and the constant sense of magic in the air. This place had always made her feel uneasy, despite the stories of an old Akaviri temple hidden in the crags somewhere. Perhaps that just made it worse. Apparently the temple itself was inaccessible due to a clan of particularly hostile Reachfolk led by an unusually powerful married couple who were both dangerous mages. It had always rankled at Mei to see her people's heritage in the hands of those barbarians.

Except now Talos worship was outlawed everywhere but this place, and the barbarians who'd taken over were the ones allowing it. And now King Madanach was grateful to her specifically for saving one of his own. It was going to take some getting used to.

I wish you were here with me, Keenan. She'd had to use all her resilience dealing with the Thalmor and had had no chance to grieve her husband. Now here she was, safe and… feeling empty inside. She'd had a clan once and now she didn't. She'd been a Blade once and now there were no Blades left to be part of. She had Cicero… but maybe he deserved better, and she couldn't use him for emotional support. She didn't even know what awaited her in Markarth.

And then Cicero squealed and it turned out they were there.

She'd visited the city before, but she'd not been prepared for the change. Salvius's Farm's fields were abnormally barren for the time of year, and the mill was missing its top. The remains of barricades scattered the approach to Markarth, and two siege engines had been left in place, all reminders of the too-recent fighting. And then there was Markarth itself, with damage to its stonework, scaffolding covering the ramparts, and the stables empty. The city wasn't looking its best.

But there were guards there to meet them, and Ryu wordlessly picked her up again, falling into line behind the Reachguard escort as they led her into the city. And the city felt nothing like its battered exterior. The city felt thriving. While the buildings looked a little battered near the wall, the marketplace was as busy as it ever had been, and the people were a mix of Nord, Reachfolk and Redguard, all seeming healthy and happy and well-dressed. Of course, their arrival stopped most conversations as heads turned to look… and to her surprise, no few of them seemed to recognise Cicero… and then the applause broke out.

Cicero promptly went bright pink, bowing awkwardly and whispering it was nothing, it really was, and then Vanya interceded and told everyone they could congratulate the little escapee later, King wanted to see him first. And so to the keep it was, and if the city had felt brighter than it looked, Understone Keep looked the same forbidding edifice it always had been, waterfalls cascading down the front of the building… and two dead Spriggans mounted on the front pillars, taproots in nets dangling from the roof, and briars garlanding the upper balcony.

Brynjar had once tried to scout out the Reachman camp that was blockading the Akaviri temple, and been lucky to escape with his life. By his account, the wife being pregnant and thus not joining the fight had been the only thing that had spared him. The husband had been bad enough. But his description of what a camp looked like matched the decorations here. Mei shivered a little, hoping King Madanach was a more reasonable man than the Karthspire chief had been.

The doors to the Keep swung open, and Mei looked to see a man emerging, clad in the same tribal gear the rest of them wore… but his was in a lot better condition than the others, cleaner and less worn, an ebony axe at his waist rather than a bone one, and a gold circlet gleaming on his forehead. Blonde hair, intense silver eyes, mid-thirties if Mei had to guess, and definitely a seasoned warrior, this had to be Madanach himself, and the background magic in the air had intensified, making the hair on her neck start prickling.

"REACH-KING!" Cicero squealed, as if there'd been any doubt on that score, and then to Mei's surprise, the forbidding man who'd stepped into the sunlight actually smiled and held his arms out.

"And there's our little scamp," Madanach said, gravelly voice sounding surprisingly affectionate, and Cicero practically bounced up to him, almost leaping into his arms as Madanach hugged him. "We weren't sure at one point if we'd ever see you again."

"It's all right, Reach-King, Talos was looking out for me," Cicero chirped happily, with all the blasé confidence of youth. Now that he was out of danger, it was as if he had never been in it. Mei envied him.

"He didn't turn up, did he?" Madanach asked, alarmed. Which surprised Mei. She'd thought the tale of Talos turning up in Markarth to hallow the peace agreement was exaggeration… but the King of the Reach wasn't the type to believe rumours without evidence, and had been an eyewitness by all accounts. Maybe it had actually been true.

"Oh, no," Cicero admitted. "But I got away! Mei helped me!"

He pointed at her, and Ryu carefully lowered her to stand on her feet, and Mei shook her head, feeling blood rushing from her head and her still messed up circulation system wasn't coping. Her legs gave way and Mei collapsed to the stonework.

Cicero cried out her name, and then Restoration magic flowed through her, clearing her head if nothing else.

"My apologies, your Majesty, I'm still not used to being able to use me legs again," Mei gasped.

"Don't apologise, it's fine," Madanach said softly, kneeling by her side, magic pouring from his hands into her. "Shit, what did they do to you? No, never mind. I got word from the border guards an hour or so ago, the healer's back in the Reach and on her way. She'll be here by nightfall. In the meantime, you're most welcome here and there's a bed in the clinic for you. It's not often we get one of the Akaviri here… and for helping rescue Cicero, you have my gratitude. My kids are rather fond of him, you've saved me having to tell my little Amaleen Cicero wasn't coming home."

Cicero was wringing his hands, peering over Madanach's shoulder with sad eyes.

"Was Amaleen very worried?" Cicero asked nervously.

"Yeah, a bit, but thankfully, ten minutes after learning of your capture, Keirine told me they'd found you, so you're good," Madanach told him. "Eithne and Argis want to know the story of how you got away too. So. While the medics are seeing to Mistress Meixiu here, why don't you entertain my kids for a bit, hmm?"

Madanach's pronunciation of her name was almost spot-on. Someone had clearly been speaking to his sister and practising. She'd not expected that at all. The Witch Lord of Markarth was clearly different to how she'd seen him. And Cicero was clearly fond of him. Perhaps, just perhaps, Mei was safe here after all.

She hoped so anyway. Wasn't like she was in any condition to fight back.

Whiterun to Markarth turned out to be a longer journey than Liriel remembered, and travelling with three strangers, two of them teenagers at that, wasn't exactly helping. But it did mean they had no trouble dealing with the wildlife and Farkas at least seemed impressed by her magic.

The Reach border guards called a cheery hello to them both and things would have been plain sailing… until they saw Kodlak and immediately lost their smiles.

"So, that's why you came by road and didn't take the pass," one of the guards noted. As Mournful Throne agents, they could have cut through Serpents' Bluff Redoubt and come out right over Hroldan… but with Kodlak and two teenagers in tow, the long way it had to be.

"They're not hostile," Tyr said firmly. "These two aren't even adults."

"They are already taller than most of us, have their beards growing in and have grond-lannae strapped to their backs, you're going to tell me they don't know how to use them?" the lead guard said, glaring at them both. "Names and business. For all three of them."

"And he looks familiar," the second-in-command added, eyeing Kodlak warily. "Have you been to the Reach before, Nord?"

"Aye, but it was many years ago," Kodlak said, folding his arms. "Before the war. Let me assure you my business here is purely honourable and above-board. I'd heard your King was allowing free Talos worship. I wished to see the shrine for myself and felt these two might benefit from the chance to see just how two cultures who were once bitter enemies are now finding common ground."

"He could be a pilgrim, Rhi, we've had enough of them of late," the second-in-command whispered.

"Yes, and they were all farming folk armed with pitchforks and woodcutter's axes at best to deal with wolves," Rhianna said, eyeing Kodlak. "This man? Seasoned warrior. Sellsword, I bet. King is not fond of sellswords. Name. And. Business. Sir."

Kodlak sighed and shrugged his shoulders.

"Kodlak Whitemane, representing the Companions of Jorrvaskr. Our Harbinger wanted to know more about what was going on in the Reach. We are receiving requests to deal with situations here, but Askar's disinclined to intervene until the politics are settled. The word in Whiterun is that our Jarl's breaking with King Istlod and inclined to talk terms with your King, but we felt we needed to see for ourselves."

"Sellsword. Knew it," Rhianna hissed, then her eyes shot to her deputy. "Wait. Ieuan. What is it."

"Companion, I fucking knew I'd seen him before," Ieuan snarled, drawing his sword and casting mage armour. "He attacked our camp years ago, killed dozens of us, all to retrieve some trinket!"

"It was a stolen heirloom, you had no right to have it in the first place," Kodlak protested, but Ieuan was having none of it.

"My da died in that attack," Ieuan snapped. "And my uncle, and my granda! And don't give me that Nordic honour goatshit, you're a damn werewolf! The Stormcloaks may be rough but at least they didn't sell their souls to Hircine!"

All eyes on Kodlak, including Farkas and Vilkas's.

"What, seriously?" Farkas asked, amazed.

"I thought those were just tales," Vilkas said, looking far too impressed for anyone's liking.

"They're real," Tyr said, glancing at Liriel. "I fought one once. If I'd been alone it probably would have killed me. As it is, another Blade helped me out. I didn't know about it involving selling your soul to Hircine though, although it doesn't surprise me."

"There were no Daedric pacts involved, it was just via the blood of one already turned!" Kodlak protested… but he didn't sound convinced of that.

"If blood magic was involved, your consent's irrelevant," Liriel said sharply. "That's an entire practice that can override the will of people. It does have more benign uses, but it's outlawed in the Dominion for a reason. And even here, it turns out its use is restricted. Not just anybody knows it, it's only learnt by people who are entitled to give orders anyway. Be that as it may, I'm afraid Ieuan here's probably right. Being a werewolf probably shackles you to Hircine's service in some way. Don't look so shocked. Did you never stop to think power like that might have a price?"

"N- perhaps I should have," Kodlak sighed. "So. Where does this leave us then?"

"He and his guild gave us hospitality and safety from Thalmor spies in Whiterun, we promised them safe passage into the Reach as long as their purpose was peaceful. Which it is, Askar's keen to avoid getting embroiled in conflict if Madanach turns out to be a legitimate and honourable ruler. Which he is," Tyr said, staring pointedly at Ieuan.

"Safe passage in, but not necessarily out. Noted," Rhianna said thoughtfully. "Well then, get yourselves to Markarth and speak with the king. I'll send word of what happened here. You, Nord, will have to answer to King Madanach over this."

Ieuan sheathed his sword and nodded at Rhianna, apparently satisfied by this, and minutes later the barrier had been lifted. The shadow over Kodlak's heart would take a lot longer though.

The journey to Markarth itself passed without further event, and Madanach's security chief Uailon was waiting for them in the Keep. Barely sparing a glance for the three Companions, merely motioning for the guards to separate them off and keep them waiting in the Keep's entrance hall, he indicated for Liriel and Tyr to follow him towards the throne.

Madanach was waiting for them, straightening up but not rising as they were brought before him.

"Good, you're finally here," Madanach said without preamble, eyes only narrowing slightly at Tyr. "Cicero arrived an hour or so ago. His daring escape is quite the tale and he's telling it to my kids, the guards, the servants, anyone who will listen, and every telling of it gets that bit more dramatic. He's fine, by the way. No thanks to you, Nord."

"Sir, I… fine. I'm sorry," Tyr sighed. "No more missions for Cicero until he's of age and you've authorised it. You know he's quite capable of finding trouble on his own though."

"I'm sure he is, but that'll be my problem," Madanach said, admitting that at least. "Anyway, he owes his escape largely to his new friend Meixiu Khim, and as you can tell from that name she's no Nord. Akaviri, it turns out. Yeah, there's still a few clans of pure-blooded Akaviri settlers living in secret. Well. Less than there used to be. The Thalmor are purging them because they won't give up Talos-worship. I think there's more to it than that personally, but be that as it may, Mei had seen her clan purged and ended up a Thalmor prisoner. She wasn't planning on ever getting out but it turns out she was able to work with Cicero and get free with him. And so they're now here."

"You said you needed a skilled healer who'd worked with torture victims," Liriel said, quietly dreading what she was about to see.

"I did," Madanach said, lowering his voice, expression grave. "I'm not exactly unskilled in Restoration magic myself, in fact I might just be better than Keirine, although don't tell her that. But it's beyond my ability to heal. I deal with fresh battlefield injuries so my soldiers can fight again, not the after-effects of sustained torture. She knows you're Altmer and ex-Thalmor, apparently she's willing to let you treat her. Still. Don't expect instant friendliness. Of course, Cicero vouching for you will help."

"I don't doubt it, but I'm used to surly humans," Liriel replied, glancing in the direction of the infirmary. "Shall I go and see to her now? I should get the assessment done sooner rather than later."

Madanach had no objections and promised to let Cicero know she was here. Leaving him alone with Tyr.

Both men were all too aware of how their last encounter had gone, and even if Madanach had felt remorse, he wasn't going to let it show. Still, he wasn't going to dwell on things either, not with Cicero home and safe.

"There's another matter from all this too, and it's one I'm going to need your help with," Madanach said gruffly. "Whatever your faults, you're good at what you do. For the safe return of his father, Ulfric is extremely grateful, as am I. Nepos will have your pay, and Liriel's. It's generous, I promise. And… it seems Cicero's capture and rescue has brought to my attention another matter we wouldn't have known of otherwise. Turns out our new Akaviri guest didn't lose all her clan to the Thalmor. She was a Blades agent and there were other Blades with them, not all Akaviri themselves. One of those Blades took Mei's baby son and fled with him to keep him safe from the Thalmor. Mei was prepared to give her life to protect him but now she has her life back… she'd like her boy back and we'd like to keep the Akaviri bloodline alive if we can."

"And you want to send a Blade to find another Blade," Tyr guessed. "What do you know about him?"

"Well, he's paranoid, wary, likely going to be hard to find, but if he's got to take care of a baby, he won't have travelled far," Madanach said, thinking all this over. "He can't feed that kid himself either, so he needs to find somewhere to hide where there's a wet-nurse handy. As the clan lived in Northwind Mine, which I'm informed is in the mountain range separating the Rift from Eastmarch, he'll likely still be in eastern Skyrim somewhere, but maybe avoiding the cities. I'm thinking the Rift is more likely than Eastmarch – if this Blade Brynjar was in Eastmarch, he'd have heard of the uprising and maybe made himself known. Maybe. Either way, I already spoke to Ulfric this morning. He's spoken to his father, the Jarl's guards that way are on the lookout. So I recommend you target the Rift. Don't ask me for any more than that, you probably know the area better than I do. But happily you won't need to knock on every door in the Hold. You'll have help. You know Vanya already, and she knows kinfinding magic. A sample of Mei's blood, and you can track that kid that way. Also Mei's not the only Akaviri in the Reach. One of our Briarhearts is the sole survivor of another raid on his clan and sought sanctuary with us. His name is Ryu and he's going as well. Hopefully having another Akaviri with you will persuade Brynjar you're telling the truth."

"It can't hurt – wait, did you say this Blade was called Brynjar? Brynjar Lodbrok, by any chance?"

"Yeah, you know him?" Madanach said, having wondered that previously but not willing to pin the plan's success on it.

"Yeah, we served together in the war for a time," Tyr said, recalling the taciturn Nord who'd talked little of his home life. Tyr had assumed it was for the same reasons he didn't talk about his much. He'd not suspected Brynjar had hailed from a hidden Akaviri clan. "He didn't really let people in. Guess now I know why. But he and I always got on. I didn't ask too many questions, but we both knew eastern Skyrim and had that in common. Don't worry. I'll know who he is and I think he'll trust me. I hope so anyway. He was always paranoid, and he saw things in the war. He might be a bit resistant."

"Well, let's hope you can persuade him," Madanach purred. "If you can't, I authorised Vanya to cast a paralysis spell and bring him by force if need be. Mei wants her kid back, a paranoid Blade isn't getting in the way."

Tyr murmured assent, even if it was a chilling reminder that Madanach's surface civility only went so far. And the reminder was about to increase, as Madanach turned from Tyr to Uailon and wanted to know where this… Companion was.

"Also fetch Nepos," Madanach added. "And bring the siara-bell. Oh, and can one of you get Inga too? I'm going to need some Nordic advice here."

Tyr stepped to one side, deciding he'd be best served sticking around for this one. He had a feeling Kodlak might need the moral support, and so it proved, as Kodlak arrived, not arrested, not exactly, but definitely looking a little uncomfortable as three Reachguard soldiers pointedly indicated for him to go forwards. Behind him, Farkas and Vilkas followed, neither seeming willing to leave his side.

Whatever I may be liable for, they are innocent. He just hoped King Madanach would see that.

"So," Madanach said, looking him over and seeming every bit the barbarian tribesman Kodlak had heard of, right down to the skulls on his belt and the feathers on his shoulders. Magic prickled in the air and the lighting in the keep seemed to shift ever so slightly, making Madanach look that bit more fearsome and intimidating. Next to him, he felt both boys shift closer.

"It's illusion magic," Kodlak said to them both. "Nothing to be afraid of."

"Right?" Farkas whispered nervously.

"Well spotted," Madanach growled. "However, if you're not at least a little bit nervous, you're not fully understanding the situation. This would be my keep you're standing in, Nord."

"Indeed it is," Kodlak said, meeting Madanach's eyes without flinching. "We noticed you'd redecorated since I last was here."

"Collecting coin from Jarl Hrolfdir for massacring innocent Reachmen, was it?" Madanach said, managing to sound almost a little too casual for what he was accusing him of. "Ieuan ap Llywelyn of the Border Patrol seems to think you slaughtered his clan over some trinket they had? And you used Daedric magical abilities to do it. So much for Nordic honour. I promise you, if someone offered Ulfric that power, he'd likely say no then kill them for trying. And knowing what I do, I think saying no would be the wise choice."

Kodlak didn't answer that because, deep in his heart, he couldn't really argue that point. But he did have some defence.

"Perhaps a man with the Thu'um at his disposal doesn't need magic to help him," Kodlak said, electing not to add that Ulfric certainly hadn't needed it to get as far as Markarth's gates. "And the trinket was the heirloom battleaxe of a prominent Nordic family from Whiterun. Which was taken when the Reachman clan in question took it from a caravan that they'd attacked and killed nearly all the members of. Including unarmed civilians, I might add. Jarl Hrolfdir's men seemed disinclined to go up against an entire redoubt, so the family hired us to avenge their kin and reclaim their heirloom."

Madanach's face had changed as Kodlak had spoken, seeming troubled, and as his steward arrived, he turned to him.

"Well Nepos, does this sound plausible to you?"

"All too likely, the tribes did prey on travellers now and then even before we started organising, and it got worse after," Nepos sighed, taking his seat at Madanach's side. "I appreciate poor Ieuan's anger, but the reprisal wasn't entirely unjustified. May I recommend we pay Ieuan keteen for his kin from our end and exact some sort of favour from Jorrvaskr instead? I doubt the Companions have enough coin to pay us for every death they caused, and they're mercenaries. The real killers are the ones who hired them."

"And exacting a price in blood is probably not going to go down too well with the Nords either, the Nords we are presently trying to make peace with, is it?" Madanach sighed wearily. "Gods damn it. Hey, Inga! What's one sellsword's life worth to your people?"

"Even a sellsword's life is worth something," this Inga said, the accent of the Reach's Nords confirming the Nordic name. "Why, what did this one… do."

Kodlak turned to see a remarkably pretty woman in her early thirties, blue eyes and brown hair swept back in a bun, dressed in scaled armour with an amulet of Kyne at her throat. And she was staring in amazement at his wolf's head armour.

"By the Nine, you're a Companion!" she gasped, face lighting up. "Sir, it is an honour to stand before you."

"Ah, you don't need to call me sir, lass," Kodlak said, feeling faintly embarrassed at the thought, especially as certain other urges were making themselves felt too. She really was extremely attractive, and didn't sound highborn either. Odd for someone clearly wealthy and part of Madanach's court as well.

"INGA!" Madanach's voice rang out, clearly not happy about this conversation at all. "He's here because he once ransacked one of my settlements on one of his contracts!"

"I… right," Inga said, stepping back awkwardly, before processing what this meant and turning to Kodlak in horror. "Wait a minute, Madanach, you can't execute a Companion! They're the most honourable warriors in Skyrim! They only accept respectable jobs against outlaws and the like."

"That was us until not so long ago," Madanach said wearily. "You realise these Companions have been attacking us for years, don't you."

"If they took the jobs, they must have felt it was deserved somehow," Inga sighed. "Are you sure it's not a misunderstanding?"

"There is a possibility that the attack that's been brought to our attention may have been a reprisal for a previous action on our part," Nepos said, deftly avoiding accepting any actual responsibility on the Reach's side. "I've suggested to the King we might recompense the survivor ourselves and make separate arrangements with Jorrvaskr."

"And you just ruled out executing him too," Madanach said irritably. "I imagine sacking Jorrvaskr on the quiet isn't an option either?"

"What?" Inga cried. "No! No, it isn't. Tyr, tell him!"

Tyr looked up, surprised at being asked for an opinion on Nordic culture when Marquise Inga had a damn sight more sway with the Reach-King than he ever would.

"Not really, sir. Aside from the fact it makes you look like a thug, it's in the middle of Whiterun. Jarl Balgruuf will notice, and will have to react."

"It would be," Madanach sighed. "Using a city as your human shield, how noble."

"With all due respect, sir, I think you'll find we settled there first and raised Jorrvaskr when no one lived for miles about," Kodlak said, folding his arms, keen to avoid that accusation at least. "The city grew up around us later."

Madanach glanced at Tyr and Inga and seemed to relent a bit when both confirmed this was true.

"Fine. Nepos, I guess this means we do this your way. Pay Ieuan compensation for his kin. As for you, Nord, you're not being taken prisoner, not today, but I will definitely be in contact with your guild's leader regarding how you're all going to be of use to the Mournful Throne in future. Don't worry, it won't be anything dishonourable. Now, I presume you had some purpose in coming here in the first place, and I somehow doubt it was just as a pilgrim and educational visit for these two… are you sure they're minors."

"Yes!" Kodlak sighed. "I remember their father bringing them in as little whelps a bit over fourteen years ago. He died in the war, but Jorrvaskr takes care of its own."

Both boys nodded respectfully at Madanach, seeming a little bit less anxious in Farkas's case and hostile in Vilkas's, now that they knew their protector wasn't getting executed.

"All right, but they need to behave while they're here or they'll be seeing Jorrvaskr again sooner than they'd like," Madanach said. "Now, your real reason for coming, if you don't mind."

Madanach's tone of voice left Kodlak in no doubt that Madanach really didn't care if he minded or not, but the surface politeness was something, in fact there was an honesty about Madanach's emotional reactions that was rather reassuring. Kodlak had no doubt that the Reach-King was a dangerous wizard, and no doubt that he was not a man to be crossed… but he'd also listened to his steward's not unreasonable opinion, and called in one of his Nordic citizens for her opinion as well. A woman he was on clearly close terms with.

"I won't beat around the bush, Reach-King," Kodlak said, reaching for the pack of contracts Askar had given him. "As you're not a legally recognised ruler in the eyes of Skyrim, her citizens still think it acceptable to petition us for contracts against your people. However, our Harbinger Askar thinks that as de facto Lord of the Reach, it would be unwise to challenge you, particularly as there seems to be a peace process with at least some of Skyrim's Jarls. He sent me to see your kingdom and how the common folk were faring, and if the tales of you offering the Stormcloaks sanctuary to worship Talos were true."

"They're true," Madanach said, allowing himself a smile at that. "I thought it was going to be nothing but trouble for us, but it turns out Talos himself turned up one day in the city and apologised for his actions in life. Turns out he approves of us helping his worshippers, and even seems to like the idea of me making Ulfric happy. Which it seems I am doing. Well, you can tell your Harbinger that he's not wrong, but if you'd like to speak with the citizens of Markarth, Marquise Inga here can make the introductions. She's my liaison with Markarth's people. Also my resident expert on all things Nordic, particularly when Ulfric's not here."

"And when it comes to how Nords actually live their lives, rather than what Nordic lore claims we do, I probably know more than he does," Inga added, grinning. "He's a Jarl's son who grew up in a monastery, he's got no idea about how real people live. For all the talk of Sovngarde and Ysgramor, most of us just want to do our jobs and care for our families. I'll pick up a bow to defend my home, but I have a son! He's not even eleven winters, he needs me alive. I couldn't be happy in Sovngarde knowing I'd left him behind."

Ah. He should have known she'd have someone, although there was no ring of Mara on her finger.

"I suppose the boy's father would rather not lose his wife either?" Kodlak hazarded a guess, and swiftly suppressed the pleasure at seeing her blush.

"I'm not married to him," Inga said swiftly. "I know he'd provide for Argis, but my son still needs me."

Interesting. A single mother with the boy's father around but not involved romantically. Well, he could cope with that… if she returned his feelings of course. Well, no matter. It wasn't like he wouldn't get to know her a little over the next few days after all. Enough to gauge her likely reaction.

Putting that to one side, Kodlak retrieved his pack of contracts and offered them to Madanach.

"You might be interested in these then. If you're a man of honour, you could see about rectifying the problems yourself."

Madanach started going through them, Nepos also taking an interest.

"Stolen goods, more stolen goods, another one regarding some lost valuables – Nepos, can you look into these? Depending on who it's from, we might be able to return them, if the person in question lives somewhere with a Jarl who's backing us. I might even do it as a gesture of goodwill even if they're not. This one… the headman of Rorikstead thinks we're robbing travellers? Talk to the leaders of all our bases in this area, make sure they're laying off civilians. I can raise this with Balgruuf when I next meet him. And… these four regarding kidnapped prisoners – we don't have any, what the hell."

Nepos picked up the four contracts in question and perused them thoughtfully, before passing them back one at a time.

"These two are for both halves of a married couple who happen to belong to rival families and their parents forbade the match. They claimed asylum here last year, and you not only granted it, you let them have the ceremony at the Temple here according to Forsworn custom. They're living happily ever since. This one is a young man who fled his father after said father beat him once too often for not being masculine enough and preferring other men. Now stationed in Broken Tower with his boyfriend. Again, they're very happy together. And this young woman… ah yes, her magical talent flowered unexpectedly, her family tried some insane ritual designed to exorcise it out of her, she ran away and is now one of Keirine's coven. They are all here entirely of their own free will."

Madanach picked all of those four up and passed them back to Kodlak, staring rather pointedly at him.

"Go back to those families and tell them their kin are living happily here, and to stop hiring mercenaries for work that wouldn't be necessary if their parenting skills weren't so abysmal," Madanach growled. "I can get you a copy of the marriage certificate for these two as well if you like, along with the contracts of employment for the other two."

"I… yes, copies of those would be most interesting to our Harbinger," Kodlak said, having suspected something of the sort. He'd been the one to flag to Askar that something was a little off about these ones. No ransom note, for a start, and some of the parents had seemed angrier at their child than at the Reachmen who'd allegedly abducted them. He was rather glad to have perfectly valid reasons to turn these down.

"Also the young man fleeing his father appears to hail from Eastmarch, do you think the Jarl's son might have a few opinions on people who think men who like other men are perverted degenerates?" Nepos asked, far too innocently, and Madanach's face broke out into a delighted grin.

"You know, I think he might, I'll be sure to tell him in tonight's bell-siaran," Madanach purred. Kodlak wondered briefly if he should send some manner of warning, before deciding that no, the man had it coming.

"There is also one other you should be aware of," Kodlak added. "One that affects you personally."

Madanach's grin faded as he sat upright, alarmed.

"Your order takes contracts against kings?" Madanach said, surprised.

"No. We're not political," Kodlak said firmly. "We're willing to kill a bandit lord but not a true ruler. That's why Askar sent me, to confirm which you were. I… so far, I've seen no sign of banditry. So I'm telling you this. Thongvor Silver-Blood's trying to hire us to dethrone you. Needless to say, Askar's not keen on this idea. Having seen this kingdom, nor am I. Ulfric asked us to join his troops before he marched and we declined. Besieging a city of civilians is not what we're about. We shall tell Thongvor the same. This is a matter for politicians, and when Skyrim's own troubles are behind her and there's a High King with the support of all his Jarls, it's his choice to recognise the Reach or not. If not, he will lead any invasion force. If he does… who are we to gainsay our king?"

Madanach had listened, face sombre throughout, nodding along and when Kodlak finished, he motioned for the guards to step away.

"This information might just have wiped out Jorrvaskr's debt on its own," Madanach said, voice soft but carrying to all corners of the courtroom, possibly aided by illusion craft or maybe Madanach just knew how the aesthetics of the place worked by this point and how to use them. "Kodlak Whitemane, you're welcome in Markarth, and at the shrine in Hroldan if you wish. There are rooms at the Hag's Rest if you like. Talk to whoever you wish, and if you want introductions to anyone, Marquise Inga might be able to arrange it. But for now, can you wait here a few moments? I need to talk to my steward in private, and then I'll need a word."

Kodlak hadn't seen that coming, not at all. He'd thought it only fair to warn the King that trouble might be coming, trouble that Madanach must have expected. But Madanach's face had shown a fear he'd not remotely thought to see, and for him to be grateful enough to declare Jorrvaskr in the clear regarding previous contracts? Unheard of. Something was surely up.

But it hopefully wouldn't be his problem, and it also meant he was left to talk to the remarkably attractive Marquise. Who was even now calling for servants to bring food and asking if he and the boys wanted lunch, he must be tired from travelling all day.

A nod from him and the boys were already settling in and Inga waited for him to sit down too.

"Guests first," she said firmly. "Don't worry about standing on ceremony either, King's not even here and even he doesn't bother with it unless we've got foreign nobles here. I… don't suppose he'd count a Companion as nobility, although frankly he should. You people do more good for Skyrim than most of the Jarls."

Probably true although Kodlak disliked being counted as nobility for that reason.

"Likely, but I'm no noble, lass. My family were humble farming stock. I had to teach myself the way of the blade later."

"No one leads anyone in the Companions," Vilkas added, feeling more comfortable about talking now the scarier adults had left and court had closed.

"Ysgramor's our leader but he's dead," Farkas said, seeming happy to chat to a Marquise as easily as he would a shopkeeper. Odd that a Nord woman would have a Bretonic title though and Kodlak asked her where it came from.

"Madanach's idea," Inga sighed. "Honestly, I'd have been happy going back to my old home in the Warrens after the siege, but no, Madanach insisted I get a title now. Ugh. My parents were hunters, you know. I grew up under the open skies as much as in a house. I never asked for all this. Still. My son deserves the best life I can give him, so for his sake, I do it."

"You use each other's first names, I notice," Kodlak said, wondering at this. "Maybe he's not the most formal of rulers, but I'm not a member of his court."

"I knew him before he was even a chief," Inga said, shrugging. "Yes, he's King now, we all know that and he has my loyalty. But… he's an old friend, and I saved his life once. I'm not forgetting that just because he raised himself an army and took the Reach over, and nor has he. Day I'm unfailingly referring to him as King Madanach is the day he stopped being the man I… well, it'll be a day when he's changed and not for the better."

Inga raised a mead glass to him, meeting his eyes with a smile.

"Thank you, Kodlak Whitemane. You did the right thing warning him."

Kodlak was near sure she was hiding something, but she hardly owed her entire life story to a man she'd just met. All the same, best to keep his wits about him. Court life was still likely to be full of secrets and intrigues… and a kingdom of witches was likely no exception.

A/N: Definite Kodlak/Inga vibes there! Could happen, although I suspect she might not be allowed to take Argis to Whiterun permanently. Also surly teenage wolf twins - well, one of them, Farkas is as easygoing as ever. And next chapter, Cicero gets to meet them all too, while Madanach starts plotting what to do about the Silver-Bloods.