I stood outside Radiant Raiment with the bundle of dresses in my arms, wrapped neatly in cloth and tied down with cord. It was heavier than I expected. Heavier still when I remembered just who they were meant for.
Taarie stepped out behind me, her golden eyes sweeping over me from head to toe. She folded her arms, the expression on her face somewhere between approval and boredom.
"Well," she said, "at least you don't look like something dragged out of a ditch anymore."
I managed a half-smile. Coming from her, that might as well have been a compliment.
"Endarie was right," she added, flicking a speck of dust from my sleeve. "Armor is for the field. If you had shown up at the Blue Palace in that filthy steel, you'd have been thrown out before you touched the steps."
I tightened my grip on the bundle. "I'll try not to embarrass you."
Her brow lifted ever so slightly. "See that you don't. You are walking with me, and I will not have Elisif think I drag gutter-rats into her presence." She paused, then added with the faintest smirk: "Even if you are one."
The words stung, but I bit them back. She didn't know who I was, what I had faced, what I was carrying. Better that way.
We started up the main road, the slope pulling us higher, closer to the spire that dominated Solitude. The Blue Palace rose above the rest of the city like a mountain built on stone. In the game, it had always felt big enough—but here, it was something else entirely. Towers climbed into the gray sky, their tops lost in morning mist. Heavy walls flanked the approach, soldiers stationed in watchtowers, their armor glinting even through the haze.
Every step I took, my chest tightened.
Taarie glanced sideways at me. "You're smiling."
I blinked. I hadn't realized it.
"You'll want to wipe that look off your face before we arrive," she said coolly. "High Queen Elisif is not a festival banner to gawk at."
Heat rose in my cheeks, and I forced my expression flat, but the excitement still burned beneath it. For years, I had seen this place as pixels on a screen, a backdrop for quests and dialogue. Now I was here, walking the same stones, carrying dresses meant for the queen herself.
And it was real.
The road straightened, turning into a long stone bridge that arched toward the palace gates. Below, the cliffs dropped into the Sea of Ghosts, the waters dark and endless. A few gulls wheeled overhead, their cries sharp in the wind. The sight made me dizzy, though whether from the height or from the sheer scale of the palace, I couldn't say.
At the end of the bridge, a line of guards waited. Their armor was spotless, polished steel over blue surcoats, the emblem of Solitude embroidered across their chests. Each held a halberd taller than I was, the blades gleaming in the morning light. Their eyes tracked us as we approached, cold and professional.
One stepped forward, blocking our path. "State your business."
Taarie drew herself up, every inch the confident merchant. "Radiant Raiment," she said smoothly, gesturing to the bundle in my arms. "We are here on behalf of the High Queen Elisif. Custom orders."
The guard's eyes flicked to me, then back to her. He studied her for a long moment before nodding and stepping aside. "Proceed."
I let out a breath I hadn't realized I was holding.
The gates opened, iron hinges groaning, and we stepped inside.
The courtyard was larger than anything the game had ever shown. Wide flagstones spread beneath our feet, worn smooth by centuries of boots. Fountains trickled clear water at the edges, and gardens bloomed even in the cold—a testament to careful hands and money enough to maintain them.
But it was the palace itself that stole my breath.
The doors stood three times my height, carved from dark wood banded with bronze. Intricate reliefs covered the surface: depictions of battles, victories, the rise of Solitude itself. The detail was staggering, every figure alive in motion.
I stopped without meaning to, staring.
Taarie's voice snapped me back. "Do not make me drag you by the ear, farm boy. We are not tourists."
I muttered an apology and followed.
The doors opened before us, guards pulling them wide. The air that rolled out was warm, scented faintly of pine resin and smoke.
And then we stepped inside.
The Blue Palace swallowed me whole.
Ceilings arched so high they vanished into shadow, beams of carved oak crisscrossing like ribs of a giant. Chandeliers of wrought iron hung low, each one holding dozens of candles, their flames flickering gold against the stone.
Tapestries lined the walls—rich, deep colors depicting Nord kings, heroes, dragons brought to heel. Between them, tall windows let in slants of pale winter light, softened by stained glass in hues of blue and red.
The floor was polished marble, veined with gray and white, so smooth it reflected the light of the fires burning in long hearths. Rich carpets ran down the center, their designs intricate, woven with patterns I didn't recognize.
I turned slowly, drinking it all in. The sheer weight of history pressed down on me. In the game, the palace had felt grand, but empty. Here, it was alive. Servants moved briskly through the halls, carrying trays and scrolls. Courtiers gathered in corners, whispering over ledgers and letters. Guards stood at attention every few paces, their halberds gleaming, their eyes sharp.
It was a world in motion, one I had never been part of.
I realized too late that I had stopped walking again.
"Close your mouth," Taarie hissed at my side. "You look like a boy seeing a painted ceiling for the first time."
I snapped my jaw shut, heat creeping up my neck.
"Better," she said, adjusting her stride. "Now remember—you are here to carry. Nothing more. Speak only if addressed, and for the Divines' sake, stand straight."
I nodded stiffly, trying to force myself into some semblance of composure. But my heart was still hammering, and my eyes kept drifting despite myself, drawn to every detail.
The game had given me fragments. This was a living thing.
And I was walking straight into its heart.
We reached the throne room doors. Two guards stood watch, their armor brighter than the rest, their stares sharper. They didn't move as we approached.
Taarie paused, smoothing the folds of her gown, her chin lifting. Then she turned to me.
"Remember," she said, her voice low, edged with warning. "You are here with me. Elisif is the High Queen. You will keep your eyes down, your tongue still, and your back straight. Do you understand?"
I swallowed hard. "I understand."
Her gaze lingered on me a moment longer, then she nodded. "Good. Let's not make fools of ourselves."
The guards pushed the doors open.
A wave of sound and light spilled out—courtiers speaking, the crackle of fire, the murmur of silk and steel.
I stepped forward, bundle heavy in my arms, my boots sinking into carpet meant for kings.
And there, at the far end of the hall, beneath banners of blue and silver, sat the throne of Solitude.
And the woman who wore its crown.