Brikthrafn moved like a woman on a mission through the Stone Quarter. No one gave her a second glance but then who would? A Nord wandering through Windhelm was nothing out of the ordinary, even one hidden beneath a furred cloak and carrying their weapons in open view. The guards had their posts to mind and the inhabitants of the city had their daily chores to go about. She could move about without suspicion, for the most part.

The Palace of the Kings rose about Brikthrafn as she slipped through the archway. She paused before the large, wooden doors as her sense of reason finally wrestled away her anger. Brikthrafn had made it clear weeks ago, to both the Imperials and Stormcloaks, that she had no interest in the war. It wasn't that she had no care for her Nordic brothers and sisters, she just didn't see point. Neither side offered much that interested and neither seemed worthy of her attention.

The eyes of the two guards had fallen on her, their hands resting on their weapons but making no other move. Holding her head high Brikthrafn pushed open the massive door and slipped into the palace. It was the first time she had stepped into the building and, for the briefest of moments, she stood in awe. The throne room opened before her, long tables set out waiting to be filled with food, drink, and people with horned chandeliers hanging above it all. Everything else was stonework, the walls graced with carved heads and the colors of the rebellion. Beyond the tables was the throne itself, a stone chair with a proud display of a shield and two swords nestled at its highest point. It was the man gracing the stone throne that quickly captured all of Brikthrafn's attention.

Even from across the massive room Brikthrafn could tell that Ulfric Stormcloak had his eyes locked on to her, even as a man dressed in pelts addressed him. Lowering her hood she suppressed a smile as the Jarl shifted in his seat. Her footfalls made little noise as she wandered towards the throne. The man speaking to Ulfric finally noticed the man's attention was divided and followed his stare, letting his voice trail as he narrowed his eyes. Brikthrafn knew him all too well; Galmar, a man with a temper and a hearty dislike of her from previous encounters.

Ulfric rested his chin on a fisted hand, eyes still trained on the dark haired Nord before him. "You are a hard woman to track down."

"I try my best these days," Brikthrafn gave a wry smile.

"I see you took your time getting here." Galmar snorted.

Brikthrafn shrugged, "I had more important things to do than listen to you two squabble over battle tactics." She smiled again as she watched the man bristle at her words. He began to reply only to have Ulfric silence him.

"Enough. This is an important matter," Ulfric replied. "Galmar, I'll speak with you later. I need to give this my full attention."

The raven haired Nord flashed the older warrior a toothy grin before he left the throne room, muttering to himself as he did so. She turned back to Ulfric and crossed her arms over her chest. "I was wondering whether it would be you or Tullius who came crawling back to me first. Let me guess, the same request? Join you and my countrymen in defending our homes? Chase out the Empire so we can rise up? I've heard this before, Ulfric, from you and Tullius." Brikthrafn could see the irritation play across those blue eyes but Ulfric's expression didn't change. She gave the man a smug smile.

"We need you. I need you in this war, to fight beside me and those who want peace to return to our homeland."

"Really? What makes me the special pawn?"

"You are Dragonborn. We all know the stories. Why shouldn't a figure of legend aid us in this moment?"

Brikthrafn frowned and ascended the steps of the throne, standing over Ulfric with fire in her eyes. She heard the guards behind her move, heard the familiar sound of weapons being drawn. She saw the slight movement of the Jarl's hand to have them hold their blades. "I'll tell you why. You are weak. You and Tullius both. Why should I fight beside a man that was easily caught by the enemy? Or a man who let the person who killed the High King escape? Anyone who is Dragonborn should not lower themselves to following such a person."

Ulfric stood, his irritation suddenly showing. He was taller than Brikthrafn, appearing more so as stood a step higher, and unsurprisingly broader. To anyone else the moment would have been intimidating but she met his angry glare with her own. In her mind she willed him to back down and to cower in the safety of his stone throne but he stood his ground.

"Is it proof that you want?"

"Proof?" Brikthrafn smiled at the thought. "I like the sound of that."

"Name it and I will show you that I harbor no weakness," Ulfric seethed.

Brikthrafn cocked her head to one side, the smile still playing across her lips. It was obvious she had struck a nerve. "Alright. I challenge you to a fight," she replied, "but not here, where your guards and your dog can come to your aide. Not too far from Hollyfrost Farm there is an abandoned home. Meet me there in one week and I will give you my terms."

Ulfric stared down at her; there was little else he could do. "We have ourselves an agreement, Dragonborn." His response seemed to please her. Brikthrafn descended the steps of the throne, eyes still trained on Ulfric. He watched her raise her hood and turn away, fur cloak billowing around her as she moved with quickened steps. Ulfric waited for her to leave before he settled into his throne once more. He would have her at his side one way or another.