After Solomon was done talking, Henry stared up at the cavernous space of the great hall, mouth agape in awe. The only building he’d ever been in that was close to the size of the keep was Daggerfall’s cathedral, and the idea that he was going to live in a place as big as that was crazy to him. Still, it made him happy as well. There was safety and reassurance to be found in the thick walls. The walking dead people couldn’t get him in here. Still clutching the axe that Bruno had given him, Henry turned to look at Joy and he laughed nervously. 

“Looks like we have our work cut out for us,” the Breton said softly and cast his gaze through the great hall once more, now with the experienced eye of an innkeeper’s right hand. “Gotta sweep the floors, clean the table and the chairs, burn away the cobwebs, light the hearth…” He trailed off and took a deep breath. It was a lot of work. But hard work was the best way he could repay his debt to his master. Solomon had saved his life yet again, as had the others that fought to keep them all alive. Henry was determined to prove his worth to them in all the ways he could. 

“Have you ever been in a place like this, miss?” he asked. 

“In my dreams perhaps,” the nord woman answered dreamily, her head tilted upwards and eyes affixed on the vast ceilings — worn and torn as they were. Her shoulder ached from the weight of her bag, and her instruments, but suddenly she felt instilled with zest and purpose that put a spring into her step. Enough to flutter the strings of both, and tickle a chime buried in the canvas rucksack. 

Joy reached out her hand to touch the wall at her side, the cool, lifeless chill of it ran a shiver from her wrist to the back of her neck, and a determined smirk crept over her lips. She would warm them up again soon enough. Her fingerprints stared back at her from the wall, the removal of that fine layer of dust revealed the faintest layer of paint that must have faded in the sun from the windows at some point. 

Beside the paint spots, was a crack in the wall, and as Joy breathed against it, a hairy leg lurched out — the first of eight, followed by a fat body. Only briefly startled by the arrival of the spider, she held out a finger for the little creature to climb on, and as the tiny hairs of its legs brushed her skin she giggled. “Well hello there,” she chuckled as it spun a web from her finger tip and took a graceful dive towards the even dustier floor. “I think she heard your threats, Henry.”

He gulped and averted his gaze from the spider. Henry wasn’t fond of the little critters, even though he knew that they were good for keeping mosquitoes at bay. “Sorry, little guy,” he muttered out of the corner of his mouth. “But your webs have got to go.” He looked at Joy once the spider had descended to the floor. “Maybe… you can bring the spiders we find outside,” he suggested. “If you don’t want to kill them, that is.”

“Won’t kill anything if I can help it,” Joy smiled. She carefully rubbed her fingers together to rid herself of the webbing before turning back to Henry. She placed a careful hand on his shoulder, and nudged him in his side with her elbow. “So…” she began to crouch only slightly, narrowing her eyes with the playful concentration of a cat eyeing a ball of string.“How about we make this a game…” she whispered into his ear. “Whoever cleans their half of the hall first… Wins!” 

Henry chanced a laugh, glancing at Solomon to make sure that the older Imperial didn’t think that Henry was goofing around and slacking off. “Well,” Henry said and found himself echoing Joy’s slight crouch without thinking. “What are the stakes? Can’t have a game without a prize for the winner, miss.”

The young man’s apprehension didn’t go unnoticed and Joy almost frowned at it, only refraining from doing so at the last moment. Her own eyes trailed the Imperial too, and she gave a thought to Henry’s question. What [i]could[/i] they use as a prize? The Nord bit down on her lip before nodding, “if you win, dinner will be your choice! If I win… Well… It will be my choice.” 

Henry smiled at that. Lucy, the cook at the [i]Loyal Hound,[/i] had let him choose dinner a few times. His smile faltered when he remembered that she was dead, mauled by zombies, and then burned up in the fire that claimed the inn. But it wouldn’t do well to dwell on things like that. He was still here, and so was Joy. Looking at her, Henry thought that her name was fitting. “Alright, miss, you’re on,” he said and nodded to emphasize how serious he was taking the challenge. “Which half is yours?”

Joy dragged her foot through the dust in the centre of the room. What sparse furnishings were in the room, were evenly dispersed on either side so it seemed fair enough. Even if there were more of the small and fiddly things on the side she chose. Joy hopped into it with a gentle thud on the floorboards. “Oh, and stop calling’ me ‘miss’,” she began, with a furrowed brow. “I might be gettin’ on in years. but I’m not old enough to no longer go by my name.”

“Sorry, miss,” Henry apologized before he realized what he said. He groaned quietly to himself. [i]“Stupid.”[/i] Embarrassed, he looked around for a broom and ruffled his hair so that it covered the flushed tips of his ears. 

[hr]

Joy, of course, won the game. She had already began pottering through the kitchen as Henry still worked in the hall. This wasn’t new to her, a normal day's work in fact. She knew the techniques to make things more efficient but she wouldn’t rub her victory in his face. Not when there was still more work to do. 

The kitchen of course, immediately felt as much like home as anywhere else would. The moment she pushed open the creaking double door and stepped in she felt it. There was a large bay window on the east facing wall that framed the forest and the patch of overgrown garden like an oil painting - one thousand shades of green shining in. 

A fancy double stove too, with a generous stone oven that Joy could only imagine the very wealthy had access too. Neat and spacious cupboards that were covered with dust, but would soon come clean. The most exciting, perhaps… The set of copper pots and pans. She rushed to them, excited and with grabbing hands to take hold. As Joy rubbed free the dust she could just about make out her reflection in the bottom, all warped and magnified — but she could make out her ginger hair stacked on top of her head, held in place with a blue ribbon. She giggled, wanting to see how the reflection would change as the pans increased in size... Maybe that was best left for later. Already she could imagine how beautiful the room would be once it was clean. 

Bruno could make a planter for the window sill, and there must be a vase somewhere to hold flowers… 

But for now, a drink, and a sit down. 

The fire was easy enough to start in the kitchen, and it didn’t take long for the startling heat of it to blow out the chill from the room. Joy searched her own belongings for her water skin, and some tea leaves, and before long the kitchen had the unmistakable scent of chamomile tea singing through it as she took her seat, one for her, one for Henry — and waited for him to finish, staring out lazily at the great outdoors from the glorious window. 

His brow drenched in sweat and grime, Henry appeared in the kitchen at last, dragging the broom behind him like a condemned prisoner’s cross. “You win, miss,” he said, her request to call her by name forgotten, still breathing hard from the vigorous cleaning. Try as he might, he had not been able to match Joy’s pace. He still clearly had a lot left to learn about cleaning. Just like he did everything else. Henry dropped into his seat with a frustrated grimace he was unable to hide. Being so young and so damned [i]foolish[/i] compared to all these great warriors and mages he was traveling with was wearing him down. Even Joy was good at what she did. But the smell of chamomile tea snapped him out of it. 

The cup warmed his fingers and he was grateful for it. “Even the kitchen is bigger,” Henry said and looked around with wide eyes. “So, miss, what’ll it be for dinner?”

Joy huffed out a breath at him, pinching his arm lightly, “No more miss,” she said, with a half-smile. It really did feel… [i]odd[/i] for some reason. To be spoken to with such respect like that. It didn’t feel like a title she wanted, she’d rather shrug it off and just be Joy. Her own hands then wrapped around her mug and she took a sip. It wasn’t until it actually hit her that she realised how much she’d needed a hot drink. She felt the relief on her sore throat almost straight away, and the satisfied sigh she gave spoke to that too.

“Can’t decide,” she answered nonchalantly. “What would you have picked?”

Oblivious to the trick she was pulling, Henry thought about it in earnest. He seemed even smaller now, with the way he hunched forward in his seat, as if he was trying to wrap himself around the cup of tea and fall asleep like a purring cat. “Well,” he began, staring out of the window with unseeing eyes. “There was this soup that Lucy did for me. It’s rich and creamy and it’s got lots of chunks. But I don’t really know how it’s made. I think it’s got cheese in it?” he said, halfway mumbling into his mug, before punctuating himself by blowing softly on the hot tea. “And asparagus. Yeah, definitely asparagus.”

Joy nodded along with him, humming in agreement as she continued to drink from her mug. She paid close attention to him, how he shrunk himself in the chair, his distant stare. Her head tilted curiously as she let herself read him in this state. This Lucy was important to him, and more than likely to Solomon too. They could all use some real warmth, she supposed. The nord placed the mug back down and hummed again, “what a coincidence,” she smiled, a twinkle falling into her eyes as the corners of her mouth curled. “That’s one of my favourites too… Reckon soup might be the perfect dinner for our first night.” 

“Really?” Henry asked and perked up again, looking at Joy with a smile. And then he finally realized what she was doing. “Wait, no,” he began his feeble protest. “You won fair and square, miss -- Joy, I mean. You don’t have to take pity on me or anything,” he said, regarding her with uncertainty. He liked it when she was nice to him, to be sure, but he also didn’t want to be treated like a child. 

“Exactly,” Joy began, a flash of mischief crossed her gaze. “I won fair and square, so I choose… I choose soup!” She reiterated with a grin. “I want somethin’ easy to cook anyway, minimal ingredients. Somethin’ that will lift everyone’s spirits.” She was making her argument as if it was a list, taking hold of a finger with each point. It really did make sense, and so she shrugged as if it was really not that big of an issue at all. “Soup it is.”

The nord placed an elbow on the table, stifling a yawn into her hand as she watched the man, curious about him but not wishing to be nosy, “you worked for Solomon for long, then?” 

He couldn’t argue with her points and decided to let the issue rest. He really did like soup, after all. Henry listened to her question instead and nodded. “Two years,” he said in a way that suggested that it was clearly a long time for him. “Ever since my parents died. I went around to ask for work but people didn’t want me,” he explained matter-of-factly. “Too young, no skills, too thin, stuff like that.” He averted his gaze and his voice cracked at last. 

After a deep breath, Henry continued. “But mister Antabolis took a long hard look at me and said alright and took me in, as long as I promised to do exactly what I was told,” Henry said and looked back at Joy. There was a mixture of emotions in his expressive eyes, glistening slightly with tears that he blinked away. “He’s been good to me. It’s hard work and all and he’s stern and, well, kinda scary, but he’s always been fair, I think. He gave me a chance, at least.” The Breton boy sighed. “That’s more than anyone else did. And now it turns out that he’s a spy and a soldier and everything! So of course I thought he was scary,” Henry said and laughed to himself. 

There were many things that she could think to say to Henry, but to do that would be to diminish his moment some, to fill him with words of praise would be to just put a bandage over the slight wound he’d let open for her. Joy began to wonder if he’d ever talked about this with anyone before, a closer look at his tired eyes suggested that he hadn’t. So she simply got up from her seat and made her way around to Henry’s side of the table and sat closer to him. 

“I’m sorry about your parents,” she said softly. There was a commonality between them now, a bond of sorts. She was different, of course, but they shared that same hollow place inside. Joy didn’t want him to get lost in it, and so she wrapped her arm around him comfortingly. “I bet they’re so very proud of you though, if it helps.” Her hand squeezed against his, and she realised she wasn’t just trying to make him feel better, but herself too. 

Henry almost shied away from her touch. It had been a long time since anyone had hugged him. But he allowed it and after a second or two, he leaned into it a little. "I don't know that there's much to be proud of," Henry said in a low voice. "I always need someone else's help. But… thanks." He squeezed her hand back and then noticed his heart was beating faster. She was even prettier this close to him. Henry looked away from her eyes quickly and cleared his throat. [I]What are you thinking, you idiot?[/I]

The woman was oblivious to it, she was too busy watching the world outside to notice the subtle changes in him. The squeeze of her hand was just for comfort, in her mind. “We all need help from time to time, Henry. Doesn’t make us less than anyone else. It’s not to be ashamed of to ask, either. Sometimes the bravest thing we can do is admit we need help,” she smiled peacefully.

That wasn't something Henry had heard anyone say before. He chanced a look at her from the corner of his eyes and saw that she was staring out the window again. He thought about what she said and his heart calmed back down now that he had something else to ponder. "Do you think mister Antabolis ever asks anyone for help?" 

She thought about it. Clearly the lad thought highly of Solomon, but Joy barely knew him — and anything she did know of him was washed away after the reveal of his true self, but then again, he still [i]was[/i] the innkeeper. “You know,” she began with a breath, “Solomon has spent a long time with the weight of the world on his shoulders…” she frowned slightly, imagining how heavy it must be indeed. “I don’t think he’s ever asked for anything, from anyone. Not something meaningful, anyway.” 

Henry was silent for another moment. "Is he wrong not to ask for help, then?" he asked. "But if you always know what to do, and you can always be strong for others… that's good too, right?" 

“You can be strong upfront,” Joy answered. “But we grow stronger from the people around us too. Maybe Solomon is strong, and maybe he does know what to do but—“ her lips quirked slightly, “I bet he can’t make asparagus cheese soup.” Her head turned to face Henry with her usual smile. “No one person can do everything, so never underestimate the power you got to help others too.” 

That made Henry laugh. "No, I don't think he can," he echoed and sipped from his tea. Joy's words had done him good and he sat up a little straighter. "What do you make of everyone else, then?" Henry asked and looked at Joy with a somewhat mischievous glint in his eyes. Gossip, and speaking freely in general, was clearly something he rarely got to do. "Mister Janus was quite something with that sword and all, wasn't he?"

“Oh please!” She joked, “he wasn’t all that — didn’t you see [i]me[/i] with a spoon?” It felt odd to jest about the events, but continuing to tread lightly and tiptoe around it was a waste of time too. After a slight laugh, she took another sip of her tea before shrugging. “I like everyone. Inzoliah taught me to use a scroll, you know! And of course, Bruno gave me these shoes — seeing as I lost mine and all.” Joy glanced down under the table, and wiggled her toes inside the fur boots. They were a little on the larger side. 

“I haven’t really been around dunmer for a while, and well, never really met a bosmer before. Solomon is a sourpuss but we’ll soon see to that,” she smiled knowingly. 

He reflexively looked around to make sure that Solomon wasn't lurking behind them. Joy impressed him with the familiar way she talked about the man and the use of his first name. Henry wouldn't dare to do either. He giggled boyishly until he caught himself, cleared his throat and produced a more masculine laugh. "Don't let him hear you say that. And yeah, the elves are… interesting, aren't they? But we get a few of them every now and then. My dad said it had something to do with us Bretons having elvish ancestry, so we're more tolerant. How come you've never met one before? Are you not from around here?" 

“Why not?” Joy answered with a raised brow. “What’ll he do? Scowl at me to death?” She giggled again. “I mean no disrespect,” she explained before placing a hand down on the table and relaxing in her chair. “Known men like that my whole life… I’m not easily intimidated by them.” Joy gave a long sigh and looked away, as if she was also searching for him — in a different manner to the way in which Henry was alert to his presence. “He’s just like me and you when he goes to sleep at night.” Her voice trailed off slightly as she plucked at a thread of a memory, or memories even, seriousness flickered through after the laughter had gone. 

“And no.” Joy began again, snapping out of the thought. “Skyrim. I came here from Skyrim,” she said with some level of pride in her voice about it. 

There was something more there, Henry saw, but he decided not to press on. If she wanted to tell him more about her past, she would have. 

"Ah, Skyrim," Henry said instead, suitably impressed. He considered what he knew about the far-off land of ice and snow. "Is it true that all the men there are like mister Thunder-Blood? And do they all have funny names like that?" 

“A lot of them are like that,” Joy replied, unable to stop herself from laughing. Not that she found anything funny about Bruno, he was a fine man, clearly with more to him than he let on. “And yes many of them have such names. I met a man once, his name was Jaakr the Unseen.” She began giggling again, bringing a hand up to her mouth. “But he was called that because-“ she stopped, taking a quick breath, “he was the worst at being stealthy in his group of friends. We could always see him, on account of him being so tall, wide, and clumsy.”

She continued giggling for a moment until it died down, “we have humour in our blood.”

Henry sniggered as well. He could think of a few such ridiculing nicknames for himself, but looking at Joy, he couldn’t think of something that they would use to make fun of her for. “If you had a name like that, what would it be, do you reckon?” he asked, curious what Joy herself would think. 

Names were a strange thing to her, and her lips twitched and her smile faded when she thought about it some. “I had a few already,” she sighed, resting her chin in her hand. “That’s how come I learned to be funny,” the nord shrugged. People could be cruel, and the echoes of taunts pranced through her mind. 

“Not that it’s important now though, Henry,” Joy said with a smile, but it was certainly more of a veneer this time. “Come on, tea break is over. We should find you a room.” 

A room of his own, in a castle like this -- it was almost a dream come true. “One with a window?” Henry dared to ask. A room with a view, especially over a valley as lush and a vista as majestic as this one… now that would be the dream. 

“If it’s a window that you want, then a window you’ll get,” Joy responded, standing up from her chair and stepping behind him to place her hands on his shoulders. “Go take a look, I’ll clean up here.” 

"Thanks, miss," Henry said and got to his feet with a grin. It seemed that his need for formal address outweighed his ability to remember Joy's preferences. 

Still smiling, he left the kitchen and bounded up the circular staircase to the rooms above two steps at a time, already dreaming of the view he'd have every morning and the ways he could make the space his own.