Chapter One: Palace of the Kings

The Palace of the Kings was a dreary place. Full of sweaty men and a lust for war. Or was the politically correct term rebellion? It mattered not. Ellayna was perched on her stool, which a servant had thoughtfully placed in the middle of the wide gap between the feasting tables and Ulfric's throne, looking about the gloomy palace. The colours of the cheerless blue and dull yellow of the banners above that very throne were almost trying to brighten the grey and cold stone walls up. It made her wince.

What was making Ulfric wince was Ellayna tapping her heel. She had noted this immediately upon being all but dragged into the palace; thus proceeded to do it. His cringe was worth the slight ache in her calves from doing this constantly for minutes. Other than the rhythmic tapping, all was silent in the palace. Someone, a nameless someone of obvious importance, had promised to get mead and return instantly. His return had not been instant and they still waited.

Ulfric's temper soon got the better of him. He had been trying to quell it by chewing on the back of his thumb, reclined back in his throne, but that was completely unsuccessful. "Will you stop that?"

Ellayna made a point of slamming both her heels down and leaning forward on her stood. "Will you release me?"

"You are the Dragonborn, you're free to do whatever you bloody like according to most of Skyrim."

"No, I'm not."

Ulfric's jaw hardened. "Then how did you kill the dragon outside Whiterun?"

"That's not what I meant. I'm not free to do–" She mimicked his voice, dropping it low and gruff, "–"Whatever I bloody like"."

He took a deep breath in, then exhaled while muttering a prayer beneath his breath. "But you are Dragonborn. You don't deny that."

"I don't want to be Dragonborn, if that counts for anything."

"No," Ulfric bit. "It does not count for anything."

Ellayna crossed her arms over her bosom, sitting straight backed and with a pout. "You're not a gentleman, are you?"

He seemed to take a moment to register what she said. "What?"

"Because if you were a gentleman, you would not keep an innocent wee girl here against her will."

Before Ulfric could spill any nasty reply, two men entered the throne hall from a side room. One was who had left for mead, which he carried uneasily in two tankards. The other was a storm of a man, trudging toward them with a grim look. The head of a skinned bear sat on his head and its paws were draped down his shoulders. The bear-man took one disdainful look at Ellayna and turned his attention to Ulfric, striding up to his side. "Where's the Dragonborn?"

Ulfric sighed nosily, gesturing at Ellayna. "You were looking at her, Galmar." He was given his mead, thanking who he called Jorleif. Jorleif carried Ellayna's tankard to her and she politely clutched it in her lap between her two hands.

"This ain't the time to have a sense of humor," Galmar hissed between his teeth. He glared at Ellayna like it was somehow her fault she was the Dragonborn. "She's a tiny little woman. She doesn't even have a weapon and you think she killed a dragon?"

"It can't be a coincidence that I met her at Helgen and how she's here," Ulfric leaned forward. "Tell me, Ellayna, why were you going to be executed in Helgen?"

She grinned widely, tilting her head to the side. "I stole a piece of bread for my little sister."

Ulfric's eyes narrowed as he studied her. "Is that the truth?"

"No, I lied. I hit an Imperial General over the head with a bottle of ale," she continued to grin. "Or I refused the advances of an Imperial Soldier. Or I slipped poison into someone's tankard."

"Which is the truth, girl?" Galmar demanded.

"All of them. Or none. Whatever you decide, really."

"If you won't give a straight answer to that," Ulfric ordered with a snarl, "Then tell us how you killed the dragon outside Whiterun?"

"Arrow to the eye. Took the bastard down quite nicely."

Nobody answered immediately. Ulfric seemed to be preparing himself for the worst when he eventually spoke, "Truthfully, that is what you did?"

"No. He slipped and snapped his neck. I just happened to be there."

Galmar snorted. "Really?"

"Nope. I threw fireballs at him. Sort of. I tried to." Ellayna thought for a moment. "Or I threw a stone at him and he swallowed it and choked to death. Or–"

"Enough!" Ulfric silenced her with his bellow. His back fell against the back of his throne and he pinched the bridge of his nose. "Why do you lie?"

Her tankard dropped as she stood. Mead spilled everywhere, much to Jorleif's horror. Calmly Ellayna stepped over it, stride toward the throne with a smirk. When she came to the steps up the small dais to where Ulfric sat, she picked her layered jade green skirts from the floor. She stepped to him, standing against his knees, then dropped her skirts and placed her hands on her hips. "I lie because it doesn't matter who I am or what I did. I am Dragonborn, no matter how much I don't want to be."

Ulfric watched her with a scowl. "Can you swing a sword?"

"No."

"Can you defend yourself?"

"Probably not. I could hit a man over the head with a heavy object, but I don't know about truly defending myself," she leaned in toward him. "You want me to be a Stormcloak?"

Galmar cut in before Ulfric's answer came. "We need the Dragonborn, but not a pretty little woman in skirts. We need a warrior in armor and arms."

Ellayna nodded fitfully. "Then you won't need me and I'll be on my way." Before anyone could stop her she whirled around and shot back down the dais. She began the long walk through the hall and to the giant double doors that led to Windhelm.

The only thing Ulfric did was call after her. "You need to fulfill your duties as the Dragonborn! Or would you rather see the world burn because of this dragon menace?"

"I wouldn't mind seeing the world burn," Ellayna shouted over her shoulder. "It's not as though it's done anything for me."

"Don't be a fool, Ellayna."

"I'm many things, Jarl Ulfric, and a fool isn't one," she paused mid-step, considering. "What would you do for me, hmm?"

"What would you want? I can give anything short of a crown."

She spun on her heels to face him, skirts puffing out and twisting, a grin on her plump pink lips. "Now there's an offer I can't refuse. Anything? An allowance of coin? A house? Clothes and jewelry?"

"With terms, of course. But yes. You will need to join the Stormcloaks and receive training with weapons, most likely from the Companions."

"A thousand septims a week. A house here in Windhelm for my things, and you send me presents of jewelry and clothes. Oh, and a pretty horse."

Ulfric's jaw hardened. Both Jorleif and Galmar looked as though they would object for him. Galmar in fact stepped forward, mouth open to bellow, but a gesture from Ulfric muzzled him. "We have a deal, Ellayna," Ulfric nodded. "But you must go to the Companions now."

"On my pretty horse?"

It grated Ulfric to say it, yet he still replied, "Yes, on your pretty horse."

"Well, then I'll be on my way," she saluted him mockingly, turning back to the doors as she did so. "Good talk, Ulfric. You won't be regretting this!"

Ulfric grunted. "I think I will be."


Credit for the cover-art goes to my friend who drew that picture of Farkas in with all of my Classics notes, and gave me full permission to use it.