Chapter Two: Joining the Stormcloaks

"Balgruuf won't give us a straight answer..." Galmar Stone-Fist's voice rumbled, coarse yet solid as the very stones that built the ancient Palace of Kings. He approached the great throne where Ulfric Stormcloak himself sat beneath a stone emblem of a snarling bear's head, the emblem of his hold and the heart of his rebellion's war-banner.

"He's a true Nord," Ulfric answered simply, his eyes not even addressing his friend as the jarl seemed lost in thought. "He'll come around."

However, Galmar wouldn't be ignored, especially not when so much hinged on the heartland of the province. He knew that if Whiterun fell totally under Imperial control, then the odds of the war would be significantly stacked against them. The old warrior persisted. "I wouldn't be so sure, old friend. Our soldiers have intercepted Imperial couriers in the hold. The Empire is putting a great deal of pressure on Whiterun."

Ulfric rose from his throne with a small sigh, the footfalls of his boots as he descended down the stone-steps that paved up to the ancient seat of power echoing throughout the great hall. It seemed a fitting throne for a man who claimed to be the true High King of Skyrim as in days long past, Windhelm was the home of many kings – the dynasty of Ysgramor himself.

"You think I should send him a stronger message?" Ulfric prompted his second-in-command as he made his way to the western wing of the hall that housed the map of all Skyrim. The jarl's eyes seemed trained on the white flag that stood out of Whiterun.

Galmar snorted at the question. "If by message, you mean… 'shove a sword through his gullet'," he then slammed his fist against the table. "If he isn't with us, he's against us!"

Ulfric frowned at this. While Jorleif, who was of more common stock, was best suited concerning the matters of home, Galmar was ever a soldier and one of the finest Windhelm had to offer. Ulfric rested much of the success of his rebellion on the shoulders of the old warrior. However, it was times like this that Galmar could only ever have the mind of a soldier and fail to see the grander scale of his actions. "Taking his city and leaving him in disgrace would be a more powerful statement, don't you think?"

Galmar opened his mouth to speak, but before he could retort, a great ruckus erupted from the hall behind them. An iron door crashed open as a woman's voice called. "I wish to speak with Jarl Ulfric Stormcloak!"

Both jarl and housecarl exchanged confused stares before they frowned and exited the war room to investigate.

"What in Oblivion are you on about, girl?" Jorleif already had guards restraining the dark-elven woman. "The jarl is not receiving any visitors today, especially not from the likes of you!"

"I am not just any dark elf, sera," she struggled against the two guards that held her arms, putting up all the fight she could muster. "Grh, I am Urd Blood-Banner, a true daughter of Skyrim! Please, I must speak with Ulfric!"

"You watch your tongue, wretch! That is the true High King you are addressing!" Jorleif pointed to the guards that held her. "What're you two standing around for? Take her away!"

"Wait," Ulfric's voice was enough to make everyone in the hall freeze in place… Even Urd ceased her thrashing. "I want to hear what she has to say." The jarl marched closer, looking down at the woman who was thrown by the guards to get on her knees before him. She remained still and silent, even bowing her head in reverence as she waited for Ulfric to speak first.

"Only the brave or the foolish demand an audience with a jarl without first being summoned," he began. "But, your name… What was it again?"

"Urd, my Jarl," Urd kept her head bowed, only daring to lift her crimson eyes to steal brief glances at him. "My name is Urd Blood-Banner, daughter of Otin."

"Otin," Ulfric echoed the name, looking deep in thought. "Ahh, yes. He marched with us to Markarth all those years ago. Damned good man… He fought fiercely until the very end. It's a pity. He would've made a fine Stormcloak."

Urd lifted her head at this, her voice, though shaky, was made transparent with her conviction. "I-It's why I want to join! I want to carry my father's name in your service once more… I want to be a Stormcloak and fight for Skyrim!"

"An elf, fighting for Skyrim?" Galmar seemed in disbelief, almost dismissing her, but Urd interjected. "Skyrim is my home! I was born here!"

"Yes, but are you willing to die for your home?" Galmar pressed, his cold icy stare narrowing at the woman on her knees.

Urd returned the stare unflinchingly, gritting her teeth a moment as she nodded. "Talos as my witness. I want to prove that I am my father's daughter; that I am a daughter of Skyrim!"

Ulfric smiled at that. The day I would see an elf swear by Talos… Hmm. "Otin's daughter indeed," he mused. "Well, we shall see if you can back up your talk with action." He then looked to Galmar a moment and gave a slight nod. "Galmar, give her the test and see if she's anything like her father."

The housecarl laughed gruffly at that as Ulfric turned to return to the war room, leaving Urd dumbfounded on the floor. Galmar faced the guards, his smile gone, barking at them, "Alright, boys, let her up. You, stand upright. Act like the Stormcloak you want to be!"

As soon as the dark elf heard the men retreat, Urd scrambled upright and stood at attention, keeping her gaze fixated on the Nord.

Galmar seemed to size her up before he grinned and nodded. "Alright, we'll see if you're actual Stormcloak material. I am sending you to Serpentstone Island, northeast of here… Something about that place attracts ice wraiths. You kill one, and you're one of us. Got it?"

Urd couldn't stop herself from smiling, but quickly caught herself and cleared her throat. She nodded sternly. "Y-Yes, sir. I'll leave immediately."

"Hmph. Try not to die," Galmar offered before he turned his back to her and proceeded to join Ulfric. Urd didn't linger, however… Far too eager to begin her journey. As soon as the half-breed was gone, Ulfric emerged from the war room, commenting, "I'd heard that Otin had a dark elf woman back home, but I didn't know that a child resulted from it."

Galmar shrugged before he snorted. "Feh… I heard, but chalked it up to hearsay." He folded his arms over his broad chest. "It doesn't matter to me though… So long as she is willing to fight for Skyrim, I'll take her."

To which Ulfric nodded in agreement, before he continued on to his throne and motioned for his housecarl to follow. "So she claims is her reason. There's much we've to learn about her. Tell me, Galmar… Why do you fight for me?"

"I'd follow you into Oblivion and back," Galmar responded quickly. "You know this."

Ulfric turned to face him. "Yes, but why do you fight? If not for me, then what?"

"I'd sooner die before I let elves dictate the fates of men," he asserted. "Are we not one on this?"

"I fight for the men I've held in my arms, dying on foreign soil!" His voice thundered as powerful as a Thu'um across the Palace, making even the guards in the barracks flinch at the sound. The very walls themselves seemed to shake, awakened by the voice of a true Nord. "I fight for their wives and children, whose names I heard whispered in their last breath. I fight for we few who did come home, only to find our country full of strangers wearing familiar faces. I fight for my people impoverished to pay the debts of an Empire too weak to rule them, yet brands them criminals for wanting to rule themselves! I fight so that all the fighting I've already done hasn't been for nothing! I fight..." He paused to seat himself upon the throne once more, seeming burdened by the speech or moreso for the weight of the conviction it held. "...because I must."

Galmar stood silent, moved by Ulfric's words but also incensed by it as he nodded in agreement with his oldest friend. "Your words," he began softly, rare for a man like him, "...give voice to what we all believe, Ulfric, but the day that words are enough? That will be the day when warriors like us are no longer needed."

Ulfric sighed, his eyes staring off into some ethereal distance once more. "I would gladly retire from this world, were such a day to dawn."

"You want how many septims for this?!" Revyn Sadri held up the small ring to Urd's face as if to emphasize the utter absurdity of her offer.

"At least 1,000, Sadri," Urd pressed, pushing his hand away from her face in mild annoyance.

"AT LEAST?!" Sadri barked, before he groaned. "Azura, girl. You act as if septims come easy here."

"Ulundil won't budge on the price for a horse," she insisted. "Not to mention, I may need to borrow some fifty pieces more so that I can buy some supplies. It's half a day's ride to the island."

The pawnbroker blinked his red eyes in disbelief before he set the ring down on the counter and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Urd, of all the lame-brained things you've set your mind to… What in Oblivion are you even trying to prove?"

"I am trying to prove that Windhelm is my home," she slammed both her hands on the countertop, giving the shopkeeper a start. "And that I am just as much a Nord as anyone else." Her tone softened a tad as she added, "Besides, maybe if I do this? It will prove to Ulfric and his men once and for all that we belong here, too. We may be treated fairly for a change."

Sadri snorted. "Truly, girl? Are you that thick?" He shook his head before resting a hand on her shoulder. "Even if you manage to get into the rebellion and carve your way to fortune and glory, the Nords will never see an equal, Urd. They will only ever see a dark elf."

"It's worth a try, Sadri," she sighed before shaking her head. She lifted her lute from her back, the instrument making a hollow thud as it was dropped to the counter. "Here, I'll throw in my lute as well. Should that and my mother's ring be enough?"

It was Sadri's turn to sigh. "You really won't give up, will you? Next I suspect you'll try and rob me just to get the gold you need."

"Will I though, Sadri?" Urd's voice was playful, but Sadri relented nonetheless.

"Oh, by Azura's grace, fine! For a genuine ebony and bloodstone ring from Mournhold and a well-kept lute, I will give you…" He held up the ring to examine it in the light some before clasping it in his dark hands. "... seventy five gold pieces."

"What?!" Urd's fist shot forward attempting to grasp at Revyn's tunic to shake him down, but the older dark elf merely held out his free arm to hold the flailing Urd by her brow. "Hold up, I will give you seventy-five gold pieces and a promissory note for Ulundil to come to my shop later and I will give him the 1,000 septims you need for a horse."

Urd stood dumbfounded a moment, unsure of whether he was being sincere at first before she smiled at that. "You mean it, Sadri?"

The old pawnbroker nodded. "Of course. You think I'm going to just shove 1,000 gold into your pocket and send you on your way? Get serious, Urd." He lowered his hand from Urd's brow with a sigh before he ducked behind the counter a moment to rummage through a small box he used as a till. "Seventy-five should be enough to get you supplies, a weapon, and then some… If you've trouble finding anything useful..." He stood up and cinched a hefty coin purse for her, tossing it to the dark elf woman. "Find Aval and talk to him about some discounted merchandise."

Urd caught the coin purse and her smile broadened. "Thank you, Sadri. I promise, I'll return the favor one day..."

"Count on it, Urd," he sighed, rubbing at his brow to nurse the growing headache. "Normally, I wouldn't do a thing to help Ulfric and his thugs, but seeing as you are a Dunmer as well? I'll let it slide this once. You just have to promise one thing..."

The half-breed paused as she was about to leave, canting her head as she eyed Sadri. "Hm?"

"I know you like to honor your namesake, but never forget that you are a dark elf, too," he nodded. "You should do your people honor, even if you do join the Stormcloaks, or forever be dead to us… Is that understandable?"

Urd thought a moment at that. She may have sounded as if she hated being compared to a dark elf, but the fact was she was proud of who she was… Be it Nord or dark elf. It was simply hard to have to choose between the worlds, but she knew that if she really tried? Maybe there was a chance she wouldn't have to… She smiled wide before nodding. "You have my word, Sadri. Say goodbye to Auntie Lua for me as well? I want to set out before sunset..."

"Sure, sure," Sadri waved his hand dismissively, but did sincerely offer her the best of luck as the shop's door slammed behind her. "Azura's wisdom to you, Urd. I hope you come back in one piece..."

A/N: This one is relatively short, I know, but I wanted the next sequence to all flow together in one go. I am also trying to keep up with that post at least once in a one-to-two week basis to keep the story active. I also apologize for you all having to read a rehash of that famous speech, but they are essential to the story I feel. Say what you will about Ulfric, but the man knows how to stir hearts with words. I am also aware I may not have gotten every bit of quest dialogue correct, but it had been years since I played Skyrim until recently. What I used to know by heart kind of fell out of my mental library and I had to rely on memory often with this.

Again, I am hugely grateful for the support I get for this story as it encourages me a lot and am looking forward to more feedback! Please feel free to leave a review and tell me what you think. :)