Jarl Elisif did not look up from the letter she was writing, as she heard the doors to her quarters open. She had learnt to recognise his presence, as she had all who spent regular time at the palace. Unlike Tullius or Erikur, his ego was always left at the door with her. He didn't treat her like a child or a doll, something to be looked at only, not touched. He treated her with respect.

He sat down on the other side of the room and studied her. He was never one to speak often, and it would have to be her who would break the silence. Her eyes stayed on the paper but her quill paused as she spoke.

"It's late, my thane."

"We leave for Windhelm tonight." His voice rang through her head, dark and low.

She turned to him, silence once again filling the room. He looked tired, but still alert. His dark hair cut close to his head, his face covered by shadow of a beard, but his eyes bright and blue. As their eyes locked, she felt her heart pulse and she scolded herself for it, he seemed to feel the same way and his eyes darted to the ground.

"So this is it." She said to herself as much as to him. Eighteen months it had been since the murder of her husband Torygg. Eighteen months had the province of Skyrim been ravaged by war. She remembered when he had first stepped into her life around six months before. His armor had been old and his weapons rusty, his name had never been heard. He had saved her city and its people before, now months later he was saving her country. He stood up and she took him in, his black nightingale armor shined in the low light. He was now legendary, although she was not sure how many of the stories were true. But it had been a turning point since he had decided to help the Imperials in the war, they had made traction and were now on the cusp of a final victory.

"My Jarl, Tullius wants you to make your way to the Imperial camp outside Windhelm. He wants you there to claim victory for the empire."

She stood up and walked towards him, her heart raced. Whatever this was between them, she couldn't let it consume them. They would always tip toe around each other, brushes of hands, longing looks. But her husband had yet to be avenged, a claim to the throne that needed to be convinced and her people needed peace. She would not allow herself to fall into something that would hurt her people.

She brought a hand to his face and traced the scar under his eyes. His eyes fluttered shut for a moment as he felt her touch.

"Be safe Mikhail, I will make haste to the camp."

He nodded and left, and another of her thane's Bryling entered.

"My Jarl, I am to accompany you to Windhelm."

"Of course, let us move quickly. It is high time our country had peace."