Jul

Lucius

"Why are you so adamant on this, Legate?" Tullius asked me. His arms were crossed and he stared at me sternly. "I've told you already that our plans regarding Windhelm are not yet complete. I can't have us waste everything on some half-cocked plan that would get my entire legion killed."

"And I'm telling you," I said, glancing between Tullius and Rikke, "that the world is going to end if I don't end the war and get Balgruuf's help. Alduin is the king of the dragons, and he is going to kill everyone, not just your legion, not just Skyrim. All of Nirn."

At that, Legate Rikke visibly palled. Her already fair skin took on an almost reflective quality as the blood flooded from her face. "S-sir?" she began, drawing the attention of the general. "I would advise we take the Dragonborn's suggestions into account."

I glanced over at Rikke. She never referred to me as Dragonborn – always 'Legate' or 'Lucius.' She hated the idea that what I was would display some form of favoritism over my allies. And, having had my ass saved by Hadvar on more than one occasion, I was of a mind with her. "Rikke, invading Windhelm now could lead to the decimation of this legion," Tullius sighed. "Perhaps even the rebirth of the Stormcloak movement if our victory is not decisive."

"We always ran that risk, General," Rikke replied firmly. She knit her brow. "Sir, Alduin is an ancient legend of the Nord people. Just like the Dragonborn. Or Ysgramor. And if those exist, if the Dragonborn himself is saying the threat is real, we must do everything in our power to stop it."

"Rikke, I don't deal in myths and legends. I'm a soldier, for Divines' sake," Tullius replied hotly.

"One sworn to defend the Empire," I said. I crossed my arms and glared at the General. "If you don't do this now, there won't be an Empire to protect."

Tullius considered this for a moment, torn between his duty and his trust in us. Finally, he sighed. "I just cannot launch a full scaled invasion of Windhelm right now," he said sadly.

"But -"

"No!" Tullius shouted, causing me to flinch. "I'm not authorizing this."

I looked at the ground, pained. I would have to figure something else out. My bleak thoughts were interrupted, however, by the noise of metal clattering on the table. "Well, I guess you won't be involved then," Rikke said. I looked up to see her steel helmet on the table and her face glaring at the surprised Tullius. "I'm going with him. Even if it is just the two of us, I'm sure we can get in and kill Ulfric."

"You won't get out alive," Tullius noted.

"Then we won't get out alive," I replied firmly. I nodded at the general. "I'll be asking Hadvar to come, as well. Either you'll see one of us soon and know that Ulfric's dead... or..."

Tullius shook his head in defeat. "I'm so sorry that I can't help you," he muttered. He slammed his fist into the table.

"Your duties to the Empire come first, Sir," Rikke stated, standing at attention. "We understand." She extended her arm to the General, who sighed sadly before taking it.

"Just come back safe, soldiers," Tullius said as he let go of Rikke's forearm. He placed both hands on the table and stared at the map. "I wouldn't lose three of my best soldiers in a battle before the real wars even begin."

Jul

Lucius

Windhelm is a magnificent city. "Oldest city in Skyrim!" as every Nord I passed within ten minutes shouted in almost indistinguishable voices. The mood of the city, despite the many defeats that her leader had suffered at the Empire's hands, was palpably joyous. It seemed like the most common belief among the people were that the war itself was merely a setback on Ulfric's path to the High Kingship. There were others who didn't even seem to care, sure that their lot in life wouldn't change at all – the Dunmer, for instance. I hoped that Tullius and the Empire would prove the Dunmer wrong – things can always get better.

"So what's the plan?" Hadvar asked in a hushed tone, our conversation obscured by the noise ever present in the tavern. I frowned and furrowed my brow in exasperation. The steel clad warrior's eyes glowed bright from behind his helm.

"Oh, no," he had insisted when I tried to tell him the plan. "When we were in Whiterun I was so scared I'd loose the plan too early. I don't want to deal with that again, for now. Why don't you just tell me when we get to Windhelm?"

"Everything that we know about the targe leads us to believe that he is... well, he would like to believe he is the center of his own Epic," Rikke began. She folded her hands and glanced around nervously.

"The greatest Epic of the modern age, the only Epic he would care about, would be a terrible battle alone with the Dragonborn," I continued. I sighed and shook my head. "He challenged Torygg to single combat because he represented the Empire and the Accords. I'm hoping I can do the same to... the target and his cause."

"So where do we fit in to this?" Hadvar asked. He smiled kindly at the barmaid as she placed the three meads on our table, then turned back with an even more lowered voice. "It sounds pretty simple."

"Except …" Rikke looked around again, changing her choice of words. "His followers are not likely to merely surrender, despite what promises they give him. Ul – the target may die, but I doubt that will quell the fires in their hearts immediately."

"So we're here to try and make sure you survive," Hadvar said, pointing at me with his mead. He took a big swig, downing the drink in a single try, then shrugged. "Well, I didn't have any plans for surviving the Era. How are we getting out?"

"Well, there's only one way out," I said sheepishly. "The front gate."

"I guess I really don't have any plans to live through the Era," Hadvar grunted. He looked up for the barmaid. "I'll have another... three. No! Four."

Jul

Ulfric Stormcloak

The Jarl had to admit that the Dragonborn was a cocky bastard. Not many, Man, Mer, or otherwise, had the courage to march into his castle – alone much less! – and demand the rites of combat. The Jarl had, of course, been hoping for the Dragonborn to be the one to kill him. The human hero of the Empire; it was as if Talos of Atmora himself was going to do the honors.

In light of how Ulfric had been used by the Altmer... well, it was a good way to repay one's sins, executed by the harbinger of a god. "It's good you're finally here," Ulfric stated, silently urging Galmar to sheathe his weapon. He sighed and stepped down from his throne. "Honestly, Dragonborn, you're late."

Jul

Lucius

"It's good you're finally here," Ulfric drawled as he stepped haughtily down from his throne. He motioned towards his lieutenant and the other man's weapon returned to its resting place. "Honestly, Dragonborn, you're late."

I gripped the ebony sword at my hip, ready for the Stone-Fist to attack me before I could truly even challenge Ulfric Stormcloak. That assault never came, however. "What do you want, Dovahkiin?" Ulfric's voice drew my attention back to him. His words crackled with knowledge.

"You already know, don't you?" I asked. I let go of the saber at my hip. "You know why I am here."

Ulfric laughed a single, dry laugh. "You came to kill me."

"What!?" Galmar shouted, drawing his weapon again. He rushed towards me, ready to kill, but the world shook with the thunder of Ulfric's Thu'um. Galmar was thrown, unconscious, to the side.

"We can't have him interfering now, can we?" Ulfric asked. Finally, I noticed that, rather than the haughtiness I had expected, his voice was defeated. Broken. The same pain was present in his empty, glazed eyes. "Galmar's a good man, he just doesn't know when his time's done."

"So you believe your time to be done?" I inquired. The question drew a shrug from the once great, proud rebel. "Why?"

Ulfric sighed and stopped as he came close to me. "Why?" He asked. He looked up at the ceiling, his eyes drifting through the roof and towards the sky. "I'm sure you know well enough, Dragonborn. What is a man whose entire life was devoted to his fellows? What about when that man learns his entire existence, his deepest convictions, were tools crafted and weaponized by those he hated most?"

"It's not your fault, Ulfric," I said. I raised my hand towards the Jarl. "I'm sure we can find a way to use this. To destroy the Thalmor."

"No. That is not my story, Dragonborn," Ulfric sighed. He drew his blade and frowned. "I see now that I am not the man that Skyrim so desperately needs. No. I'm sorry, but that honor lies with you, Lucius Atmoran."

I drew my blade and bowed to Ulfric. "I hope I can live up to that task, Jarl Ulfric," I replied. "You do me honor with this battle."

"And you give me even greater honor with this challenge, Dragonborn," Ulfric replied. "Now give me a fight worthy of Sovngarde!"

Our blades quickly crossed, steel sparking against ebony. Ulfric's eyes, I noticed, had regained their fire. He would not surrender so easily. I was the first to exit our first bout. We circled each other, two fighters who knew that one of us would not survive the next engagement. And, true to both our assumptions, we did not cross blades again. I ran towards Ulfric as he ran towards me, both of us running in to slash our blades through the body of the other. As I stepped past him, I flicked my wrist and sent his blade into the air. I gestured with telekinesis at the flying object, and the point of the blade sent itself flying into the would-be King's chest. He fell, dead. I sheathed my blade, saying, "Talos guide you." And the Civil War was over. I remember thinking how anticlimactic it had been, just another in an endless line of battles throughout my life. Quick, efficient, painless. I had expected... I don't know, the appearance of a god!

I looked towards the door on a whim to see an old man in black armor that looked older than the current Era staring at me. He was bald, save for a half-ring of hair that began at either temple and connected on the back of his skull. Blue eyes twinkled from beneath his brow as he stared at me, and I had the feeling that I had seen him before. "Who are you?" I asked.

The figure merely smiled. "You can thank me by being something new," he suggested simply. Then he raised his hand and snapped. I swear still that, under his breath, the man shouted: "Ginun Kreh Okulom." Suddenly, I was outside of Solitude with Hadvar and Rikke.

"What in Oblivion!?" Rikke shouted, drawing her blade in fear and surprise. She turned wildly around, searching for... whatever had moved us.

I looked up at the sky as the Legate calmed down. "Who in Talos' name was that?" I asked quietly.

Fahiil

Thera

The rumors flying into Ivarstead were surprising to say the least. Decades of careful planning, murdering, and political upheaval had been wasted before they could reach true fruition. Windhelm, the seat of Ulfric Stormcloak's rebellion, had fallen. Some said that the Dragonborn had marched, alone, into the city and defeated the already broken man in a single stroke of his ebony sword. Others said that he had burned the Palace of Kings to ash with his Magick. Still more claimed that, with a single whisper of his Thu'um, the Dragonborn had destroyed the foundation of the city and sent it crumbling to dust. Whatever the truth, I doubted it was any of these hushed rumors of awe.

Still, though, I laughed at the Aldmeri Council. As soon as they received the information on Ulfric's death, they would likely have to issue public congratulations to Titus and his Empire, even attend multiple galas and gift the man with artifacts long since stolen from his homeland. The feeling of the Council's weakness would echo downward through the Thalmor ranks, perhaps even instigate turnover in their ranks. Being as far from Alinor as I was, I wouldn't be able to capitalize on their weakness. Still, it was going to become much easier to take a seat on the Council and take the power I so deserved.

I had been notified by Lucius' new pet – Yordiz, or some unpronounceable Nord nonsense like that – that Lucius would meet me in Ivarstead's pub soon to take me to Whiterun. He likely had to meet again with those moronic Blades to learn which dragon we could use to attack Alduin. The dirty humans would know not to trust me, but I could bend the dragon to my will. Perhaps Lucius would not find himself in that battle with Alduin, so much as waiting for my return. Or – the thought makes me giddy – dead by the dragon's claw in Whiterun.

Jul

Lucius

Esbern stared at me with a furrowed brow. "So you return," he said simply. There was an almost accusatory look in his eyes. "Good. You know Dragonrend, then?"

I nodded. "Yes. And I plan to capture a dragon with it in Whiterun. Do you... know of one who would help us?"

"Why not ask Alduin's old lieutenant?" Esbern spat. "The Greybeards are fools to believe he is no longer controlled by Alduin."

It took a moment for the words to make sense in my mind. "P-Paarthurnax?" I asked, incredulous. I laughed. "He is not with Alduin. He doesn't follow Alduin, much less know where his portal to Sovngarde is!"

"Do not be so easily fooled by dragons, Dragonborn," Esbern retorted. "It is unfitting of one with your blood."

I snarled at the Blade. "Do not take me lightly," I advised the old man. The mountain shook as I spoke. "Faazrot dovah fen nunon drun yol."

Esbern, to his credit, did not even flinch at the power standing before him. "There is perhaps a dragon, Dovahkiin. I glanced a name in the records, a dragon whose respect for power overrides any sense of loyalty."

"Who?" I asked, the fire in my eyes letting down somewhat. The old man, despite his foolishness, meant well.

"'Snow-Hunter-Wing,'" Esbern replied. "Odvahiing."

I smiled. "Thank you."

I turned to leave, only to be stopped by Esbern. "Do not return here, Dragonborn, until Paarthurnax is dead. There are ancient crimes he has yet to pay for."

I growled and ran towards the man. "You understand nothing," I said. I growled. "He is an ally."

"Would you be able to trust him in war against the Thalmor?" Esbern retorted. I was silent. "Not so quick to defend the 'pacifist' dragon now, are we?"

I closed my eyes and growled at the Blade, smoke rising from my nostrils and cloaking my head in its rings. "Now is not the time for this, Esbern," I replied angrily. "Are you... adamant in this?"

He nodded. I shook my head. "I... I will think on it," I half-lied. I turned from Sky Haven Temple, back towards the face of Reman and towards my inevitable final battle with Alduin.