Whitney Writes…

The first day of Gudstar’s rule, he set about visiting each of the work stations that kept his palace running. He made a quiet assessment of what type of person would work best in each station. Workers at the mill would need keen perception to spot the flaws in building materials to construct better structures. Cooks in the kitchen would need to be considerate of the tastes of others, but also inspired to think outside the box. Weavers at the loom would need to consider the weight of the fabrics they should weave for various seasons, and also creative to create fabrics that inspired the sewers. And so on.

Once he completed those assessments, he began assessing his potential work force. He offered retirement to all the old staff that his grandfather had filled positions, poorly, with, stating they had earned their rest. Over the coming weeks, Gudstar began slowly filling the positions of his work stations with people he felt demonstrated the traits he thought the most desirable for each position. Within months he had the palace running smoother than it ever had before. It reached a standard that even his grandfather had failed to achieve. And most of all… Gudstar’s subjects were happy. Those he had working were enjoying the work they did and enjoying those they did it with.

He also implemented a lottery system for those living in the palace to have babies. If they were all just procreating, as they had been for generations now, all over the place, the palace would become as overrun as it was currently. So whilst he had his kitchens running in tip-top shape, there were still far too many souls living within the walls of Gudstar’s palace.

Gudstar then set about creating an ambassador program, setting up those who did not fit his job slots with small pensions and provisions to allow them to travel abroad and bring their unique set of skills to other castles. The program was such a shocking success, that after the first wave of people left, Gudstar threw a ball on his midyear anniversary of his coronation.

On the night of his grand party, the throne was bedecked with glowing red lanterns, tables piled with delicious smelling food. A beautiful, soft music floated through the giant chamber. Gudstar had made certain that everyone had the funds to procure a new gown or suit, as they wished. And as he stood upon the balcony opposite the music, he watched as his throne room filed with his people. He smiled as he watched their happy faces looking around at the transformation that had come over the room.

He could remember the struggles his mother had had, always claiming the people were “impossible to please”. And his brother, Rolund I, had struggled along after her death. But Gudstar found it incredibly easy. He made them feel heard, feel seen, feel appreciated. He went out of his way once a week to travel to the work areas in the palace to see how everyone was getting on, what they needed. And even when there were needs he could see, they were often so eager to please him that they said nothing. Obviously, Gudstar saw to any repairs or needs he saw while he was present, mentioned or not, and that seemed to go further. He trusted they would speak up if they were desperately unhappy, and they trusted he would notice before that.

Gudstar had listened to Ulfric’s advice – though via his son, Tangarion – to steer clear of advice from his father, or anyone, really, unless he was well and truly conflicted. Gudstar had found the freedom both exhilarating and terrifying all at once. Thus far, he had found his instincts to be sound. On the few occasions he had mis-stepped and angered someone, he had reflected and approached them within a day to find a hopeful solution. He found he earned greater respect in doing that than just pretending he had not erred.

As the moonlight filtered in through the high, round, rose stained-glass window, Gudstar found himself smiling, watching the happiness radiating off these people. His people. Together, they would create a bright future.

One by one, the years passed. King Gudstar’s reign remained the most prosperous since that of his grandfather. The palace saw a great growth and redesign that the previous king had failed to see through. They advanced their workmanship and exploration efforts. There were births and marriages, as well as new-comers. The palace saw it’s share of hardship, as well. Common folk died, people left for other prospects, there were food shortages. But through it all, Gudstar had always strived to remain visible and present to his people.

On his sixteenth birthday, Gudstar realized he was also about to embark upon his sixth year as king. He had ruled twice as long as his brother. T’s strange how time passes us by, he thought, realizing he had not thought of Rolund I for quite some time.

“You’re quiet this morning, my king,” came the voice of the rider beside him. Gudstar looked up from his horse’s neck and turned his gaze to his riding companion, Eleril Stormcloak.

“Forgive me, Eleril,” Gudstar said, “but I am afraid my mind was elsewhere.”

“Hopefully not literally Elsweyr,” Eleril chuckled, “or I would have to be in the company of Khajiit.” The Nord-Altmer laughed to himself.

“None of that, Eleril,” Gudstar said firmly. “You know my grandfather is a Khajiit. I will not hear such talk.” Gudstar heard Eleril grumble: “Step-grandfather.” under his breath, but said nothing. He did not wish to quarrel with his friend. Not on his birthday. “I wish to do something special today. To mark the occasion.”

“What occasion?” Eleril asked. “You do not have any regents, so it is not like you are suddenly free to do as you wish. You have been able to, all this time.”

“Sixteen is still a landmark birthday, is it not?” Gudstar asked, raising a brow in Eleril’s direction. “My sister got engaged to a prince of Hammerfell on her sixteenth birthday.”

“Because no one within a hundred miles of here would have had Princess Jaga,” Eleril chuckled again.

“One more quip and I’m banishing you, Eleril,” Gudstar said flatly and spurred his horse to gallop across the open plain towards the palace. Eleril was a good friend, but Gudstar suspected it was only because he was king. He was a slippery man in all other regards. His mistreatment of what he called the “beastial races” was abhorrent. And apparently he had held a strong disliking for Gudstar’s elder sister.

When the pair entered the palace, Eleril trailing the king by an embarrassing amount, Gudstar was unsurprised to see his grandfather awaiting him. The older Khajiit’s face warmed at the sight of his king and grandson, he scowled in the direction of the Stormcloak lad.

“Gudstar, a word?” Murdan asked. He had been the only member of his family that Gudstar had continued to associate with closely over his years as king. Murdan had always give Gudstar the kind of advice he would have given his own husband, King Rahim; sound, solid, and unbiased.

“Of course, Grandfather!” Gudstar exclaimed, handing his riding gloves off to a servant. He was grateful for the easy escape from Eleril this morning.

The pair walked companionably down a stone corridor lined with tapestries. Gudstar had grown to love his time with his grandfather. The stories and insights he held to Gudstar’s other grandfather, King Rahim, were what inspired Gudstar, what he used as his moral compass. It was a thing he had long wished his mother had realized. Instead of worrying about taking care of her people, she had been overly worried about carrying out her father’s legacy, and thus failed at both. Gudstar had noticed over the years that the murmurs of “In King Rahim’s day…” had all bit disappeared of late. They had had nearly a decade and a half of turmoil with his mother and brother on the throne.

“How are you, my boy?” Murdan asked finally. “It is your birthday, what is it you would wish for?”

Gudstar laughed, he had not made a birthday wish since before he was king. He hesitated, but only briefly. “I fear I am lonely, grandfather,” he said. “Whilst I know being king means being a step apart from the flock, to remain objective, it is lonely here.”

“Yes,” Murdan said, “I imagine it is. Your grandfather once said the same.” He sighed, motioning Gudstar to pause at a bench in the gallery, his joints were protesting from over-use. “Rahim struggled, for some time, following the death of your grandmother. They were very close, you see. She was by his side, always, a close confidant. When he lost her… he briefly lost himself.” Gudstar had known this of his grandfather, as well. This was why he and Murdan’s bond was so special, and why Gudstar was always determined to milk as much of his grandfather from Murdan as he could.

“That’s why he cherished you so,” Gudstar said.

Murdan smiled. “Yes,” he said, “I think it was. I became his constant companion. The things we spoke about,” he trailed off, smiling sadly. “I miss him dearly.” He cleared his throat after a few moments, blinking away some wistful tears. “Anyways,” Murdan continued on, “as I was saying-“

“Grandfather,” Gudstar interjected, “are you about to tell me that to celebrate my sixteenth birthday, I should get engaged?”

The Khajiit smiled again, a chuckle bubbling over. “Was it that obvious?” Murdan asked. “Only if it is what you want, Gudstar,” he added. “You are just so like your grandfather in every way, and your plight of loneliness sounded so like his own.” He gave a little shrug and wry smile. “But if it’s not your answer, it’s not your answer.”

Gudstar grinned from ear-to-ear. “No,” he said eagerly, “I was going to ask you today if you thought I was too young.”

“So…” Murdan’s eyes twinkled conspiratorially, “does that mean you have someone in mind?”

Gudstar could feel his cheeks warming as he blushed. She came to mind completely unbidden. With her warm, dark brown eyes, the downy-softness (or so he imagined) of her wispy, curly auburn hair, her golden skin that always some how had a kiss of sunshine to it, even in the depths of winter. She was one year older than Gudstar; headstrong, preceptive, and charming. She could have a heartless streak, some said, but Gudstar just took that as she always knew what she wanted and was not willing to bend. Whenever they had passed in the halls as children, she would have a smile for him and a wink. As they’d grown older, that smile had grown mischievous and he often found himself dying to know what was on her mind.

“Well, who is it then?” Murdan asked with a laugh when Gudstar did not answer.

“Carine Elbert,” Gudstar said quickly.

“Shall I speak to her father?” Murdan asked.

“No, no, no,” Gudstar exclaimed hasitly, “I would like to speak with him. If that’s alright.”

Murdan shrugged. “You’re king, you can do what you want.” He winked, “But Poguf will like that.”

After dinner that night, Gudstar arranged for Poguf to meet with him in the very gallery he had sat with Murdan that morning. It seemed only fitting. As Gudstar waited, he found himself fidgeting. What if Poguf declined? What if Carine declined? Gudstar attempted to swallow his panic. He did not think he even knew any of the other young women in the palace’s names other than Carine. She had been the only one he had ever had eyes for since… well, for since as long as he could remember. It had taken her some time to notice him, and in the end, he had liked that.

“Your Grace!” came Poguf’s startled, panicked voice from down the lengthy gallery. “I am so sorry, I thought I was leaving plenty early to meet you! I had no intentions of making you wait!”

Gudstar laughed awkwardly. “Oh, I was a half hour early, it’s alright,” he said. Why had he said that? The other man refrained from remarking, which Gudstar was grateful for, and just hurried himself along to meet his king. Gudstar cleared his throat as Poguf slowed, drawing nearer. “Please, have a seat with me, Poguf.”

“Very well,” said Poguf, managing to hide the confusion and mild concern in his voice. “What is it Your Grace would like to speak with me about?”

Gudstar chewed his lip, contemplating whether he should skirt the issue for a while or just dive in. “Poguf, would you be offended if I were… just incredibly forward?”

“I would prefer it, my king,” the older man laughed. “I do not think my anxiety can take the theatrics of long, drawn out court talk.”

“Very well. Good. Wonderful. Fantastic” Gudstar made himself pause to take a breath. Stop babbling, he thought. “I would like your permission to marry your daughter,” he said hurriedly. “Or, err, to ask her if she would honor me in doing so, that is,” he added even more quickly. His gaze slid up to Poguf’s face, who was looking at him curiously.

“Beg your pardon, Your Grace,” Poguf said slowly after a moment, his face doing strange things. “But I must ask…”

He should have explained why first.

“…but which of my daughters did you have in mind?” Poguf was saying. “If my king remembers, I do have five of them.” It was then that Gudstar realized Poguf was fighting back the urge to laugh.

“Oh by the gods,” Gudstar exclaimed, he ran his hands through his hair nervously. “Carine,” he said quickly. “Your daughter Carine, the youngest of the five.”

Poguf clapped Gudstar on the shoulder. “Do not worry about it, my boy,” he said jovially, “nerves get the best of us all at times. Does… does my daughter know your intentions? Carine has gave no indications this may be coming.”

“Oh, um, no,” Gudstar said, “I have… loved your daughter from afar, for quite some time. I have admired her tenacity and fiery spirit since I was a boy, sir. The way she perceives the world, and how she approaches it and everyone within it with such compassion and grace has always been an inspiration to me.”

“Those she does have,” Poguf chuckled. “You do me a great honor, my king, for me and my late husband, to speak of our girl such. Not every one sees her the way we do, the way Grivier did. They only see her more difficult nature.”

Gudstar bowed his head at the mention of Poguf’s husband who had been murdered many years ago, one of the many unsettling events of King Rolund I’s brief reign.

“I do not see her as difficult, sir,” Gudstar said softly. “To be frank, I have witnessed some of the moments of which I know you refer. And she has never acted so to willingly belittle or annoy the other party, she has always been fighting, or simply speaking up, for what she believes is right.” He paused a moment. “And, honestly, I’ve agreed with her every time, Poguf.” He swallowed, sitting quietly for a moment, collecting his thoughts. He appreciated that Poguf did not fill them, simply waited for Gudstar to continue. “Do you think she would have me, sir?” he asked finally.

It was Poguf’s turn to pause. “I think you’ll have no better way of knowing unless you ask her, Your Grace,” Poguf said finally. “And for that, I grant you my permission. She is out in the gardens, I believe, for her nightly moonlight walk.”

In the gardens, Carine Elbert was not difficult to find. Gudstar saw her before she saw him and he paused. She was standing with her back to him, ethereal, glowing, as she stood there, gazing at a fountain surrounded by white roses. Her silver gown she wore glowed in the moonlight. Her auburn hair was pinned back into a low, coiling, braid, wisps escaping from it. He had never seen a more beautiful sight.

As he stepped forward into the clearing in which Carine stood, Gudstar cleared his throat softly, hoping not to startle her. “Good evening, Lady Elbert,” he said, grateful that he no longer had the quaking tone to his voice he had had whilst speaking to Poguf.

“Please,” she said, he could hear the smirk in her voice, “Lady Elbert is my mother.” Gudstar hesitated. Carine’s parents were Poguf and Grivier Elbert, two men. No one understood the ways the goddess Mara worked, but she blessed every couple wishing for a child with one, no matter their gender. It sometimes seemed as though the babes were willed into existence. But, given this circumstance, it meant Carine Elbert did not have a mother.

Carine turned to look at her new companion, that mischievous grin upon her face. She hesitated only a moment at seeing it was the king. “What is it,” she asked, tauntingly, “cat got your tongue?” Her silver skirt was still swirling around her feet from when she turned, her arms held out elegantly from her sides

Gudstar felt his mouth run dry. “I, uh, hoped not to disturb me,” Gudstar said. Damn. “I mean you,” he said quickly, “I hoped not to disturb you.”

“By joining me, you hoped not to disturb me,” Carine said slowly. She was lowering her arms before her, her hands clasped. “What curious tactics you have, little king,” she said again, her head tilting to the side as she regarded him.

He flushed at her comment, and at what she had called him.

Carine eyed King Gudstar out of the corner of her dark eyes, she hadn’t expected him to be shy. “What brings you out here?” she finally asked. “I do not usually see you on my moondances.”

“Your… moondances?” his voice danced with curiosity.

“You answer my question before I answer one of yours,” she said, tutting at him and shaking a finger. He licked his lips nervously. When had they gotten so dry?

“I… I was hoping to run into you.” He hoped that didn’t sound too childish.

“Hopefully not literally,” Carine said, the hint of a playful tone to her voice as she turned towards him, her skirts swishing softly. She was not going to make this easy for him.

“Well, uh, no, actually,” Gudstar stammered, “that would be quite rude of me. Or… anyone really.”

“Mmm.” Her lips pursed, playing into the hint of a smile. Gudstar felt his heart threatening to hammer out of his chest. She turned her gaze up towards the moons. “The moons are lovely tonight, aren’t they?” she sighed.

“Very beautiful,” Gudstar agreed, his gaze never leaving Carine.

He saw the full edge of a smile upon her face then. “You didn’t even look,” she said, not turning to look at him.

“I don’t need to,” he found himself saying. “I have seen their beauty every day of my life, I do not need to look again to see it now.”

She looked back at him over her shoulder. “Are you still talking about the moons, little king?”

“I never was,” Gudstar admitted.

She turned back to him then. “So,” Carine said, “you’re finally making your move.” It wasn’t a question. She knew exactly what he’d come here tonight to do, even though they had barely spoken more than a few words to one another over the recent years. She had seen the way he watched her. He did not hesitate when she held out her hands to him. “Well,” she continued, “go on then.”

The words came rushing from Gudstar’s mouth. The ones he had said to Poguf and more. Through it all, Carine’s face remained immobile, unreadable. But her hands still held his, her grip growing tighter and tighter, she could control her face and her voice, but her touch was outside her control and that squeeze was all the encouragement that Gudstar needed to continue.

“Carine,” he finally said, “would you marry me?”

“Divines help me, I thought you would never quite talking,” said Carine, pulling him towards her, releasing his hands, and sliding her arms around his neck, she kissed him.

Gudstar and Carine were married a week later. Gudstar saw nothing else of the day, as he could never bring himself to tear his eyes away from Carine. The way she would look at him, with a hint of a smile just for him, one brow raised mischievously, made his heart stop every time. A glowing twinkle sparkling in her eyes.

She gave a speech at their wedding feast. She had held her gold goblet aloft, saying words that Gudstar could scarcely absorb. She talked about this golden-haired little prince that would follow her around, that she had always told her elder sisters that he would be king one day and would ask for her hand. Carine confessed she had been beginning to lose hope the night he found her in the gardens. She bobbed the golden goblet in Gudstar’s direction. “To my little king,” she said with a warm smile that lit up the room, “who finally is my husband.”

He gazed at her in bed later that night, his wife. The word still sounded strange to him: his wife. Her shoulders gently rising and falling with sleep. He felt full, whole. They had gone from barely ever having spoken, to spending all their waking moments talking. She had opinions and ideas that invigorated him. Thoughts that grounded him. Words that encouraged him. He could not wait for the life they would build together. The discoveries they would make. The children they might have. King Gudstar al-Elinhir could not wait for any of it.