She supposed it was always going to end this way.

It was inevitable, Freyja thought as her metallic eyes slowly move across the bustling hall from where she stood off to the side, having spent so much of my time growing up with him. They trained together, went off to war against the Thalmor together, tended to the other's wounds- she wouldn't let anyone else patch him back together, trust issues and all that- and managed to survive together. Somewhere among all the chaos of the Great War, a seed was planted that changed everything about how she felt.

Ulfric.

Then came their fighting at Markarth and defending it from the Forsworn, his getting arrested and being held captive by the Thalmor- he still refused to talk about it, not that she blamed him for keeping silent. Her friend having to smuggle out a eulogy for his father who died during his incarceration. Her and a handful of men breaking him out of prison. His taking on the mantle of Jarl by the will of his people, her watching him challenge Torygg in the old ways and their escape from Solitude, and the eventual capture at Darkwater Crossing.

Throughout all this Freyja stood by her friend's side, unwavering in her loyalty to him. She was his sword and shield, his strength and his conscience, lifting him up when spirits fell and grounding his anger when it blossomed...as often it did in such times.

Then she came. The godsdamned Dragonborn. Never before had the blonde Nord felt so much jealousy towards anyone or anything as she did when the small Breton, dressed in pristine mage robes, entered the Palace of the Kings, taking praise for every victory accomplished and all others ignored. It was then Freyja realized that, with the way Ulfric looked at Gisele, that she would never amount to more than being a friend to him. It certainly didn't help matters that, not only was the mage something out of Legends, but she was also gorgeous, flawless even. Not like her, with her body mottled with scars and burns. At one point they were an honor, a tribute to the fact that she survived fighting for what she believed. But who seriously would want to hold someone that looked as she did?

Now the Age of Oppression was done, the Imperial Legions routed, and it was time to enjoy what little peace Skyrim could have before the Thalmor moved against her soon-to-be-crowned High King. How many of their old friends that stayed loyal to the Legion died at her hands? At Galmar's? At Ulfric's? She wondered how he was handling having to kill Rikke- she, like Freyja, were cut from the same cloth, stubborn Nords and unwilling to compromise in what they believed in. He never said anything and she never asked, knowing that, like every other time, he'd come and discuss it when ready.

"Why aren't you out there with the rest of them?"

The Nord woman didn't need to turn around to know who was behind her. "We've won the battle Galmar, but not the war. The Aldmeri Dominion won't stop until Ulfric is dead and Skyrim bends her knee to their will. It feels foolish to celebrate at this point. Not when we need to rebuild, to remember those lost."

Her General moves to her side, his own glacial orbs watching the merriment around the long tables. "True enough, but it's more than that, isn't it?" Galmar chuckles when Frejya's head snaps around, looking at him like she was a child who got caught eating a sweetroll before dinner. "Come on now. You seriously think I wouldn't know? You, Ulfric and I grew up together, Freyja. You're quite the open book to those that know how to read you."

"You might, but he obviously doesn't know how to… not anymore. Not when he's got her by his side. She'll make a damn fine Queen when the time comes- the fact she can use the Voice alone will keep the more belligerent people in line."

"You could just tell him."

The woman snorts softly, shaking her head in the negative. "No, the time for that is past. I'm tired, my friend. Tired, scarred and broken. All I know is fighting, war and death. What good am I in a world with peace, temporary as it might be?"

"We still need you Freyja. Ulfric still needs you," Galmar points out, then gestures out at the soldiers eating in the main room. "Who else is going to help me keep these children of Skyrim ready for what's coming but the best Commander I have?"

"Ysarald. Hjornskar. Kottir if he's not busy dealing with the Forsworn out in the Reach. Even Ralof could do a good job with the newer recruits- Talos knows the lad will get bored soon enough. No, my General, I'm going to take this supposed time of peace to heal and work on a project."

"Can't you do that here?"

"I don't have all the materials I need here. No one in Skyrim sells it, so I will have to travel some distance to acquire what I need. The sooner I start, the sooner it can be finished."

The slightly older man's brows furrow in thought. "Surely you'll stay, at least 'til the end of the feast tonight." When Freyja doesn't respond, Galmar wraps a hand around his subordinate's bicep, causing her to start.

"No... I think I'll leave now, the sooner the better. I'm not needed here," the woman tells him. "Look, Galmar. Look at our Jarl. He's laughing and smiling- when was the last time we saw him do that? He's happy...and that's the only thing that matters."

"When was the last time any of us had a reason to do so, Lass?"

The pair watch as Ulfric wraps an arm around Gisele's shoulders, the Breton leaning over to whisper something in his ear.

"She'll be a much better protector for him than I ever was," the slighter officer murmurs as she looks on, barely audible over the sounds of conversation and somewhat drunken revelry. "Make sure you send me word when the coronation's going to happen, Galmar. Gods know I spilled enough of my own blood for the cause to get to see history happen. It's not every day one can say they were once the childhood friend of the newly crowned High King..." Before the General could say anything, the Commander bends down and picks up the bag at her feet. "I have but one last favor to ask of you, Galmar... I ask this of you as an old friend, and not my superior."

"If I can do it I will, you know this Freyja. Never could say no to you in the many years we've known each other."

She gives him a slight smile. "I only ask that you say nothing of my leaving. Chances are my absence will not be missed til late tomorrow morning, if luck is in my favor."

"I won't lie to him for you, woman. If he asks where you are, I'll have to tell him something."

'Can't answer what you don't know, my friend. Just...just tell Ulfric I'll come back in time to see his greatest achievement. After that...well, we'll see."


A/N: Oh no! Not another one! She's at it again!

Yeah, this hit me as I was trying to get another chapter of Oblivion Hath No Fury, plus trying to figure out the side story for Dragonborn and the Sneak. With the way my brain throws ideas out at me, I'll never finish anything lengthy. I will do the best I can to not get distracted with the ooh shiny syndrome too much, I promise!