The Skyrim Fanfic Chapter 01

"I want to see more of you, Dragonborn," his voice reached my ears through the cheering of our men after the siege of Solitude. They popped open several bottles of Solitude's famous spiced wine to celebrate, every soldier taking deep drafts. The battle was long and bloody; a great deal of good men and women lost their lives today.

I hurt for them, their families.

We fought for many reasons, but were joined together by one factor- our freedom. As a Breton, I couldn't rejoice in the liberation of my homeland; but as the Dragonborn, I celebrated the ability to freely worship and seek guidance from Tiber Septim, the Nords' Talos. I felt his presence in my life since the first thu'um escaped my lips. I only feel true peace while in his hallowed grounds. It is in the hope of forging my identity that I fought beside my Stormcloak brothers and sisters.

A smile broke my lips as the snow fell from the darkened heavens, the gods' frozen tears burying the fallen. "Of course, your grace- or can I not call you that yet? I am unfamiliar with Nord customs."

I stepped towards him, shrugging my wolf skin cloak over my shoulders. I hid it away in my knapsack during the battle to protect it from blood; it's one of few items I was able to hoard across the border and was more precious to me than most anything else. Unfortunately, I had to free an Imperial arrow from amongst the furs, leaving a hole that would need patching up later on.

The high king's lips knit themselves into a tight smile. These days, Ulfric Stormcloak hasn't smiled much. It was evident the gesture was foreign and a little forced. Given the circumstances, I was a little surprised his ego wasn't inflated enough to send him well past a festive mood. But his pensive disposition reassured me that I made the right choice.

"Once things settle down, the Moot will adjourn and name me high king." Familiar certainty resonated in his deep voice. It tugged at the part of me that attached to his ideals, the instant loyalty I felt to this man the moment I stepped through the castle doors of Windhelm. Something deeper reminded me that it wasn't the first time I felt this intrigue.

"But Skyrim is in need of a leader and I must act the part now," Ulfric suggested, plans already unfolding behind his eyes. He stood a little straighter and gestured for me to follow him up the path towards the palace where the fallen General Tullius and other important Imperial figures lay dead by my magic. My stomach tied itself into knots; I could still smell the stench of charred flesh.

I braced my stomach at the memory, slipping a little as I ascended the stairs. Ulfric's arm was quick to steady me, his hand gently clutching the small of my back, his chest against my shoulder.

He spoke again once we reached a balcony overlooking the damaged city. Ulfric led me to the railing and stayed close to my side as we stared over the land that was now rightfully his.

"You've done me a great service, Stormblade."

"Talara," I interrupted. While the honor was great, I missed my own identity, whatever that might be at this point. Quickly, I caught myself and added, "my jarl-"

"Enough of that, Talara," he smiled a little looser than he had around his men. My breath caught in my throat as he leaned into me. His breath tickled my skin as he continued, "If I am to call you by your given name, you are to call me by mine."

I blushed and nodded quickly. Something about that excited me- I've only ever heard his second-in-command call him by name. He still hadn't moved away and I could see a fiery glint dancing his dark eyes.

"None of this could have been accomplished without your efforts specifically, Talara."

I nervously tucked a strand of chocolate-colored hair behind my ear; it had escaped its braid during the battle. "Sir, I only did as I was commanded."

"I have read every report having to do with your battles. You did not simply fulfill assigned tasks, but you performed beautifully, dutifully." He spoke feverishly yet quietly. I could smell the faint spice of the celebratory wine. "I found myself looking forward to word of your accomplishments, your return to Windhelm."

"That is quite an honor, my lord," I responded with a shaking voice. "Thank you for your kind words, but I only did as I felt was right."

Ulfric turned from me and stared over the balcony. His rough hands gripped the railing. He seemed massive, master of the mountains and all that lay beyond. Perhaps he was. "So you believe in me, my cause." It was phrased as a question, yet spoken as a statement. I shifted, staring beyond the walls of Solitude.

I found my lips to be pursed in a wry sort of smile as I replided, "Are you questioning my loyalty, Ulfric?"

He looked at me sideways, something coy dancing in his expression. "Perhaps I would like to hear it aloud."

"Perhaps the high king should not be so self-conscious." I smiled playfully, albeit guarded. I knew I was wading through dangerous waters.

Next thing I knew, his hands were gripping either side of my shoulders, his gaze locked with mine.

"Do not sass me, woman," he said, before breaking into a smile, then came a pensive look and something else I couldn't quite place with the thoughts rushing in my head ignited by the intensity of this closeness.

Hesitantly, he broke the brief tension. "Come. We should return to the battlegrounds." Ulfric stepped away from the railing and began to slowly walk towards the staircase leading back to where our men celebrated.

We lingered by the doors to the palace in silence after that, watching the crystals dance and flutter, swirling down in a rush towards the earth. I reached out and caught one in my horker skin gloves. The snowflake had rings of spikes and melted before my very eyes.

I was from a coastal region originally; snow still ignited a childlike curiosity in me. I wrapped my Stormcloak scarf tighter around my neck and shoulders to keep the nipping cold out. I loved the sensation, though it quickly grew uncomfortable this far north.

I thought of the battle as I watched frozen tears fall from the heavens. The war was over. The gods favored our cause and now it's all over. I could barely process that fact and decided now wasn't the time. More pressing concerns were at hand.

What other tears will fall by the end of this night? An image of a child crying over her father's empty chair in the den, her young mind unable to comprehend that papa is no longer with her ran through my mind. I felt tears prick at the corners of my eyes, remembering a time where I, too, sobbed over an empty house with no tomb for visitation.

"We should allow for burials," I said quietly, afraid to demolish the serenity of the scene, afraid of Ulfric's reaction to the interruption.

"We won't be leaving any of our men behind, I assure you," he said with a tone of disbelief. "They will have a special place amongst our catacombs."

"Stormcloak and Imperial alike, my jarl." I said. Red flags waved around in my head, alarms sounding.

"No. The traitors-"

"Are still people of Skyrim," I stiffened, speaking quickly. "And still have relatives alive under your rule. Volatile relatives. It would be a great gesture-"

Ulfric raised his hand to silence me and I let my voice fall away. He turned away from me, glancing through the open door at the corpses of our enemies and men alike. He hesitated with eyes trained on their faces. A Nord was a Nord, no matter which bloody uniform he wore. He began to walk away with a look of disgust on his face, but his pace slowed after a few strides.

"Fine," he called back without looking at me. He reached the edge of the courtyard and shouted down to some of the lingering troops. To their dismay, many will be staying behind to assist with burials of local Imperial troops. I tried to appear as composed as possible as I nodded thanks when I found his eyes scrutinizing my reaction, though inside I was celebrating a personal victory—strides towards equality, towards true peace. That is the one thing I desire most in such an explosive region, the region I now call my own.

"Let us return home," his booming voice echoed through the city. His command was echoed by many cheers and woops as the Stormcloaks surged out of the city towards their abandoned horses and carts.

I watched Ulfric Stormcloak make his way to the city gates with a regal air about him, his head held high. Determination radiated from his eyes, triumph lingering in his shadows.

As I turned to follow, movement amongst the rubble in an alleyway nearby caught my attention. I focused on an incantation that I knew would summon masses of fiery magic surrounding my hands as I approached. I lowered my hands as a child emerged, covered in soot with watery eyes. Her hair was singed, clothes tattered. I could see the ice freezing over her skin.

"Is it all over?" Her weak little voice croaked out.

Swallowing, I nodded at her.

"Are you a Stormcloak?" A nervous smile spread across her face.

"Yes," I replied, stepping closer to her. I knelt down next to her as she came closer.

"My mommy was a Stormcloak," She shyly raised her head to meet my gaze. "I'm glad you won."

Considering the condition she was in, it's clear her mother was lost along the way. I felt a pit open in my stomach as her eyes fell the crest stitched in my furred scarf. I quickly unwrapped it from my neck and draped it over the girl's shoulders. She gratefully shrugged it closer to herself, trying to get all the warmth she could from it. She thanked me quietly, bright eyes lighting up the dark alley.

I fished my coin purse out from my knapsack and tossed it to her. It had enough in it to buy her a bed for at least a week. I instructed her to find a man I knew would take care of her until the inn is back in working condition. I only prayed that he made it out of the battle alive.

The hope that lit up her hollow eyes echoed in my mind the entire ride back to Windhelm. It's something that will stay with me for the rest of my life.

I made the right choice.

By Talos, I hope I'm right.