Whitney Writes…

The hanging gardens before her glittered in the warm, low lantern light. Small butterflies flittered around the blossoms. The sound of chirping birds echoed off the stone hall. If one sat and stared at them for long enough, Fadiya found one could almost convince themselves they were actually outside. Whether it was real, or a mage’s illusion, Fadiya had never been certain, but she had always admired it all the same. It had taken some sort of skill to create it.

There were footsteps echoing up the stone staircase behind Fadiya and her heart sunk. She had thought she had come to a remote enough part of the palace for no one to have found her for a while. She needed to be alone with her thoughts. She rubbed her temple, steeling herself for whatever demand this intruder would have of her sovereignty.

When the person sat down on the bench beside her – unbidden – Fadiya was about to unleash the wrath of Oblivion upon them. But when she looked up, she saw the golden face of Ralof. Her husband. Her heart fluttered, she softened and immediately deflated. He gave a quiet chuckle as her head sank to his shoulder, her crown grazing his cheek and nearly slipping from her head. He caught it effortlessly in his lap, Fadiya had not even made a move to stop it. Ralof felt that spoke volumes about how his wife was feeling.

“What is it, my love?” he asked gently.

Even when Fadiya remained silent, unanswering, for far too long than should be socially acceptable, Ralof did not repeat himself nor ask again. He knew she had heard him and she would answer when she was ready. It was one of the things she loved about him. He did not have to fill the silence with his own unease towards her feelings. He was one of the only people in the palace that just… let her be.

“I don’t know if I can do this anymore,” she finally said, her voice scarcely a whisper. “They all loved my father so, and I cannot help but feel every thing I do is a misstep. No matter what I do, whether I try to help them or do what’s best, it never seems to be what they want. Even when I know it’s what they should want.” She took a deep breath, wondering whether to say this last part aloud. “Sometimes…” she ventured, her voice faltering, “sometimes… I look for assassins, like the one that killed my father.”

“Oh, my love,” Ralof began, “you know you are safe. Between Ulfric and myself, we -“

“No,” Fadiya interrupted, “you misunderstand me, husband.” She swallowed, “I hope to see an assassin coming for me. To end this.”

It was Ralof’s turn to be silent. Fadiya’s heart hammered in her chest, fearing his reaction. “Please, say something,” she begged, sitting upright and turning to her husband.

At first, Ralof would not meet his wife’s gaze, his green eyes boring into the limestone floor. “I think,” he said slowly, after some time, “you should turn your attention to something meaningful to you.” His gaze slid up to finally meet hers, that strong, unwavering gaze of his that always managed to plant Fadiya in the here and now. “Do not focus on the approval of others, you will never please them all, my love. And you will drive yourself mad by trying to do so. All you can do is try your best. So, I think you need to focus on a matter that is important to you.” He took her hands in his. “Whether it be building a children’s shelter, advocating for farmers, or something else, you must find your own purpose. Your own legacy. Not your father’s.”

Fadiya took this in, more than relieved with his answer. “I do not even know where to start, Ralof.” She took the crown from her husband, “I do not even know what I am any more without this garish thing.” She turned the crown over and over in her hands.

“Where is the girl who loved adventure?” Ralof asked. “The one who snuck out of her father’s balls to go exploring and adventuring in the halls?” He twined his fingers through hers. “I have only heard stories of that girl, I would love to meet her.” His smile lit up the room. “She sounded like she knew exactly what she wanted.” Fadiya couldn’t help but smile back at him. “What about that chamber in the haunted wing you used to tell me about? The one you found when looking for your mother?”

Fadiya’s skin prickled, remembering the living nightmare of that doorway. Of those fingers on her arm…

She could not tell if it was fear, or excitement.

“Gather round, everyone,” Fadiya said into the crowded room. She beckoned to Ulfric, Murdyn, Hakar, and Zamarak, calling her fighters closest. “I have made a decision,” she said confidently, with a look towards Ralof. Her husband smiled encouragingly at her. “For the past six years,” Fadiya continued, her voice carrying across the chamber in a manner that she knew her father would have been proud of, “my reign has floundered without a purpose. That changes today. In the west wing, at the top of a tower, lies a chamber awash in enchanted purple light. A grotesque and horrifying doorway spilling forth the demons of Oblivion and beyond.

“It has been locked away for many years,” Fadiya continued, “the last soul to venture there, besides myself, was my mother, our former queen, Davila Beleth. I believe some Daedric monster pulled her in all those years ago. They almost claimed me, as well, eight years ago.” She paused, allowing a murmur of appreciation wash through those gathered. “That doorway… makes this castle an unsafe harbor for our children,” she said. “Starting tonight, I plan to send forth parties of two, in a rotation, to close the doorway forever and keep our children safe.”

As the silence in the room grew, Fadiya squared her shoulders. They mustn’t seen their queen back down. But, if she was being honest, this was not the reaction she had anticipated. She had imagined cheers and applause.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Ralof step forward. Her heart skipped a beat. “Who will join me,” Ralof cried, turning a warm grin to his wife, “in volunteering with me for our queen’s brave quest?!”

Her heart flat out stopped. She was sure she would faint. There was a ringing in her ears.

But Ulfric was looking at Ralof with glowing approval, clapping him on the back and saying something.

The Argonian, Dull-Scales, was stepping forward, saying something, and then shaking the hands of both Ralof and Ulfric. Mazar stepped forward; Divines help her, Shura would never forgive her. Ugrash and Fortunatus, Galiel.

What had she done?

“What were you thinking?!” Fadiya demanded that night as Ralof stood in their bedchamber, donning his armor she had not seen him wear since the day he’d arrived at the palace. It was shocking it still fit him. But, then again, it seemed as though he hadn’t aged a day since then, either. “When I set forth this quest, I had no intention of you joining it! I may need a purpose, but I also need my husband!”

“My darling,” Ralof said gently, in that tone she both loved and hated, “did you not see the way they were looking at you? They would have been calling for your head before dawn. Four men is not enough for this endeavor.”

“You’re the one that suggested I do this!” Fadiya cried, accusatorily.

“Yes,” Ralof conceded, “I did. However, I thought we might think it through a little more before you announced it.” He shushed her. “What’s done is done, Fadiya. I have volunteered, and I am going on the first patrol with Ulfric and Zamarak.”

“I won’t allow you to go! As your queen, I forbid it!”

Ralof pulled her into his arms, kissing her. “We cannot ask our subjects to do things that we ourselves would not do, my love. I am sure my queen will understand this after some sleep.”

“Sleep?!” Fadiya roared. “You expect me to SLEEP?!!? While you are out there risking life and limb against…. against… the Divines know what?!” She scoffed, glowering at him. “How dare you,” she hissed. “Just go. Go on your little adventure. I’m so sorry you’ve felt so… so… tied down here with me and the children all these years.”

He looked visibly wounded at that. Good.

“Fadiya…”

She turned her back on him, her arms crossed. He would grovel.

After some time, the clinking of metal resumed as Ralof returned to putting his armor on. And when she heard the door to their apartments a half an hour later, she realized neither of them had said another word. Panic gripped her like a vise around her chest. How long had he left? Could she still catch him before he disappeared into that doorway… possibly forever?

She dashed from their apartments as fast as her feet could take her, hearing something crash and shatter behind her. It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered. Only getting to Ralof before he left.

She ran to the war room. No one was there. The throne room, empty. Finally, she went to Ulfric’s apartments to ask his husband where they had been to meet. Aryon looked at her sadly.

“My queen…” he said sadly, “they were meeting in the cursed chamber. I fear they have likely already entered.”

Fadiya’s heart stuttered as she fled from Aryon, racing towards the haunted wing, the towering stairs, and the cursed chamber. When finally she entered the room washed in ethereal purple light, she was not surprised to find it empty. Stupidly, she went straight for the glowing, screaming-mouth doorway.

An invisible wall hit her and Fadiya found herself flying through the air. She landed on the floor, back by the door she had entered by, in a crumpled heap. Everything on her person ached, but she pulled herself up. She wouldn’t sleep. She would roam the halls, pace this very chamber, until her beloved returned.