7 years later - 4E 189 - In the Palace of the Kings
Seven years had gone by, and Ulfric Stormcloak was still in mourning over the loss of Milla. Nothing could take his mind to something else; women, war, fighting, hunting. Nothing.
Galmar was sick and tired of the way Ulfric behaved. He could understand that he loved Milla, but she was gone. He had high doubts that she would come back. "When are you going to forget about this, and start planning what we talked about?" he asked Ulfric when another morning had dawned and Ulfric was back on his throne without a word.
"I can never forget about her, Galmar. No matter how many women you take me out to meet, or how many bottles of mead you make me pour in, I just… can't." Ulfric's eyes teared up when he mentioned Milla, he could still picture her perfectly, with the armor and the Glass bow he gave her for her nineteenth birthday in her hand.
"Don't you think she would have wanted this for you?" Galmar continued. "She would have wanted you to live your dream, and become High King. Alive or dead, I don't know what she is, but she would have wanted that for you, more than anyone."
Ulfric knew Galmar was right. Milla was the one who cheered him up on a bad day, who sat by him if he was feeling ill after too many drinks the night before, and who told him he would succeed if he just tried.
For the next days, the Jarl and his second-in-command planned the traveling route to Solitude. Where to go, where not to go, and what to expect on the way.
"I think we should travel through Whiterun, and pass through Rorikstead…" Ulfric started, rubbing his beard while pointing at Whiterun on the map with his other hand.
"Are you sure? I mean, after everything that happened there.. It might get emotional for you.." Galmar reacted to Ulfric's decision.
"Yes.. Well, we will then pass through Old Hroldan, I don't want to meet the Forsworn bandits around Robber's Gorge. We'll then follow the road from Markarth to Karthwasten, and cross the three bridges between there and Dragon Bridge. And I want to stop by the Stormcloak camp I placed out in the Reach last year." Ulfric circled around the table and stood by the window, while scratching his head as he did some heavy thinking.
Galmar sat down on the chair, thinking everything through. He sighed heavily and responded, "We'll need to be careful when we pass through Dragon Bridge, though."
Ulfric nodded, "Yes, yes. I don't want any Imperials to spoil my plans before we get to Solitude." He sat down on the chair across Galmar, by the window. He took a moment to think, picturing himself with the crown on his head, but every time he pictured himself, he saw Milla next to him.
"What should we do when we get to the city?" Galmar then interrupted him.
Ulfric did not answer at first, but thought about his time in the war and when the Emperor chose Torygg to be High King, just for his own happiness. "Torygg is a reasonable man… He is a Nord, he would accept my challenge." He took a moment to breathe. "Skyrim doesn't need the Empire, I will show him that. I'll challenge him to a duel. A formal one-on-one duel, and he will see.. The court, of course, is welcome to watch me show the so-called King why Skyrim is better without the Empire."
"Then it's settled, Jarl," Galmar agreed, and laughed as if they had already won. "I will write him a letter and send a Stormcloak courier to deliver it. Or is that too formal?"
"No. Do it," Ulfric answered. "Give him some time to accept my challenge. But Galmar, please. Do it later. Let's have some mead!"
5 more years later - 4E 194 - In Karthwasten and Windhelm
Milla had climbed up on the small cliff over the entrance to the mine in Karthwasten, watching the tower from where she had fallen down twelve years earlier. Ulfric's cries were still inside her head, and they still triggered her tears.
As she studied the river, she noticed a blue, ghost-like horse on the road. The man on its back's head was missing…
'The Headless Horseman' did Ylva call him in the stories she used to tell Ragnar and Milla. That was before she died…
The one person Ragnar could talk to after Ylva's death, was Milla. She knew exactly how he felt, the pain of knowing that he would never see his mother again. Many nights after work, Milla sat down next to a weeping Ragnar to comfort him and tell him everything would get better. He did not believe it for a single second.
"Dinner's ready!" Oddleif shouted from the house, wearing his silly chef's hat and apron, and holding a wooden spoon in his hand. Milla jumped straight down from her spot on the cliff, landing right in front of Ragnar, who had just left the mine.
He gasped, "Oh… My… God, Milla! I know you're flexible and all that, but you don't have to brag about it."
Milla strolled towards the house and chuckled, "Yeah, yeah.."
Oddleif had prepared one of his best meals; rabbit legs and venison chops with bread on the side with slices of Eidar Cheese and leeks on top. The three of them sat down by the table, eager to start eating. "Dig in!" Oddleif said while opening the bottles of mead.
Later that evening, Milla went outside again. She liked spending time outside, near the bonfire. Her eyes followed Secunda's light on the darkened sky as she sat down on the bear pelt, grabbing her journal from her satchel. She had bought herself a brand new one on a trip to the bigger cities, as she had given her old one to Ulfric. Oh, how she missed him.
"Soon," she said to herself and sighed. "Soon."
Everyday for the past twelve years, Ulfric read Milla's childhood journal over and over again. He did so this evening as well. He sat by his desk with a bottle of mead and some candles lit. All of a sudden, a hidden page fell out from a small pocket on the last page. He unfolded the page and read the drabbles.
'Hello, journal.
This is suddenly my last page. How unfortunate..
Anyway, I left Shor's Stone two days ago. My father told me to stay with Ulfric Stormcloak, Windhelm's very own Jarl. Isn't that what every girl wants to hear from her father; to stay with the man she loves? I try to imagine the combination, Milla Stormcloak. Butterflies appear every time I think about it.
I still haven't figured out the mark on my neck, though… I hope it will give me some answers soon.
Love to you, Ulfric. Always.
Milla.'
He now realized what she wrote that evening fourteen years ago when he bursted into the room. The evening he kissed her properly for the first time. He remembered it as if it was just last week. Her soft skin as he touched her cheeks, her beautiful eyes which he stared into for a while. Everything.
Back in Karthwasten, Milla read some of her stories in the journal in front of her.
"Milla! Help!" Ragnar yelled then from the door, drops of sweat running down his forehead. As Milla threw her journal on the ground and ran towards the house, she could hear Ragnar's cries. She hurried into the living room, and noticed the Oddleif dead in Ragnar's arms.
Milla did not find this as difficult as Ragnar. For all she knew, her father was still alive. She separated Oddleif and Ragnar, guiding Ragnar to a chair. "Come on, now. We'll bury him tomorrow, okay?" she whispered.
When tomorrow had dawned, Milla and Ragnar, Ainethach, Mena and Lash gra-Dushnikh all stood by Oddleif's grave, down by the river. Mena's husband, Enmon, did not attend to the funeral. Instead, he was at their house with their two-year-old daughter Sybil.
The warm tears ran down Ragnar's cheeks, and onto his hands. Oddleif was like a father to Milla as well since they found her twelve years ago, and she just could not hold her own tears back.
Ragnar spent more time than the other at his father's grave after the funeral. Even after five hours, he sat there. Milla had her Glass bow on her back and her quiver filled with iron arrows in her hand, while she stood at the top of the hill and watched Ragnar.
"Ragnar!" she then called him. "Care to join me? I thought I'd mess with the mudcrabs by the river down the road."
She reached her spare bow out for Ragnar, who hesitated at first, but loosened up and stood up to fasten the bow on his back. Milla smiled at him. "You should try not to think about it. I know it's difficult, but trust me. It's better that way.."
"You're right."
"Come on, now. Let's kill some mudcrabs. Ylva taught me how to make a potion of Cure Disease, and all I need now is a mudcrab chitin and some hawk feathers."
With her satchel full of chitins, Milla and Ragnar were on their way back to the house. Milla had to laugh. "Well, at least we won't run out… All I need more of now are those hawk feathers, and we will have potions for the rest of our lives!"
"Yeah. I better get back to work now, still have a lot to do, you know. And you know how Ainethach is, he wants his silver. I am almost close enough to become his right-hand man," Ragnar explained and gave Milla back her bow, before heading towards the mine, grabbing the pickaxe on the way.
"I can help you if you want," Milla said, but she did not expect an answer to it. She was glad to help anyway. Placing the bows and quivers on the front porch, she grabbed a pickaxe and joined him inside the mine.
It did not take many swings before the wagon was full ores and ingots, and Milla and Ragnar could sit down for dinner. Everything was awfully quiet that evening, and Milla noticed Ragnar's behavior. Making a quick decision, she put the crust of bread down on the table. "Okay, that's it. I, as much as you, am tired of being alone, and the silence. Let's have dinner with Mena and Enmon. I'm sure they will understand."