[A/N] Aaaarrrrgggghhhh... I hate writer's block. Writing this chapter went at a snail's pace this week because I was fretting over every sentence and making sure it was written exactly the way it sounded in my head. Worst of all is when I recognized I was doing that, but continued doing so anyway. And then there were the times were my mind went completely blank, and I just shut off my iPod in frustration.

But (hooray!) it's done now, and that's happy for you guys and happy for me. :)

(A brief-ish note on the lyrics: originally, I was not going to use "Immigrant Song." I was going to use "No Light, No Light" by Florence + The Machine. But then I couldn't decide which snippets I was going to preface the chapter with, so I went with the former. However, if you can, I highly recommend that you give the latter a listen, because it really fits the first half of the chapter.)

[DISCLAIMER] I do not own The Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim or anything related to it; that's Bethesda's deal, not mine (sadly). I also do not own the chillingly good cover of "Immigrant Song" by Karen O, Trent Reznor, and Atticus Ross. However, Kajsa Red-Blade is my original character and she belongs to me.

CHAPTER XX – Revelations and Resolutions

So now you'd better stop and rebuild all your ruins,

For peace and trust can win the day, despite all that you're losin'...

"Immigrant Song," Karen O, Trent Reznor, and Atticus Ross

Raising his bowed head, Ulfric rested his chin on his fists and stared meditatively at the statue before him. It depicted Talos, both hands over his sword hilt, gazing down at the writhing lizard-worm under his feet with a detached, yet stern solemnity. The lanterns at the base of the shrine and flickering candles that lined the walls of Temple of Talos served as its only illumination.

Ever since the war began, the jarl found himself coming to the temple more often. Sitting in the front pew, he quietly prayed for strength and courage before forsaking the only truly peaceful place known to him for the clamor and pressure of the outside world. Tonight had been a rougher night than most; it was nearly midnight, and despite his exhaustion, Ulfric hadn't slept at all.

Sighing quietly, the jarl absently drew the torn piece of parchment from the pocket of his robes, smoothed out the creases again, and reread the letter for what seemed to be the tenth time since receiving it:

Jarl Ulfric,

Whiterun Hold has been captured. Vignar Grey-Mane is the jarl now.

I can't return now. There's something I have to do first. I hope you understand.

Kajsa

The unusually terse message stirred up a storm of emotions within him: relief upon hearing from her, satisfaction at the news of Whiterun, anger and suspicion from everything else. What could possibly be more important than returning to Windhelm and giving him this momentous news in person? Whatever it was, he hoped her task wouldn't keep her away for long.

But as the days dragged on, no more word came from her. As soon as Galmar walked through the doors of the Palace of the Kings, the jarl had asked him if he'd heard anything. His housecarl expressed surprise and incredulity at the question, stating that he'd ordered her to ride to Windhelm the morning after the battle to deliver the news of Whiterun's fall.

"Prepare yourself for the worst," the general had advised him gruffly upon reading the note. "Chances are she's either dead or has deserted."

Ulfric had no desire to dwell on either of those possibilities. The young woman seemed to have an uncanny knack for avoiding death, no matter how severe the danger. But desertion? He didn't want to believe it, but the doubt lingered in the back of his mind and plagued him at every turn.

She told me once that she would always return. I can only hope that she honored that promise.

Shaking away his dour thoughts, the jarl tucked the Dragonborn's letter into the pocket of his robes once more and stood. Slipping down the side aisle and reaching the door, he pushed it open, exited the Temple of Talos – and bumped into a slight, hooded figure with a knapsack slung over her back.

Ulfric's first reaction was to apologize and hold the door open for the prospective worshipper, but the words died on his lips when he caught a glimpse of what little of her face he could see from under the shadow of her hood: a mouth with a slightly larger lower lip and three thin scars running past them.

"Kajsa?" Behind him, he let the temple door fall shut with a wind-muffled click.

"Jarl Ulfric?" She stopped in her tracks, shocked.

His initial relief upon hearing her voice subsided into near-anger. Gripping her shoulders firmly, the jarl gave her a sudden shake. "Where have you been, Red-Blade?"

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you." Prying his hands off her, the Dragonborn stalked off in the direction of the Palace of the Kings, now cold and collected. "Besides, my personal life is none of your business."

Catching up to her, Ulfric seized the young woman by the arm, jerking her back to him. "I believe it is my business when you vanish for over three days with almost no explanation! Where were you and what were you doing?"

Letting out a quiet sigh, Kajsa turned around to face him. "I can't tell you."

"Why not?" he asked, leveling his voice to try and keep himself under control.

"Because – because it's just too damn hard to explain," she said simply. "And I'm not sure if I can."

"Can't you trust me?"

The Dragonborn chewed on her lower lip, silent and unresponsive.

"I know you don't have much reason to put faith in me," the jarl said quietly, letting go of her arm and running his hand up to her shoulder, leaning in to meet her eyes. "But can you please tell me what happened?"

"Why do you want to know?" she questioned doubtfully.

Ulfric gazed at her for what seemed to be an eternity, trying to find the right answer. Because I want to help you somehow. I see your pain and your weariness in your eyes, but I don't know how it can be healed.

"I care about you." With his admission, it felt as though a weight had been lifted off his chest. "Please... tell me why you haven't returned until now."

Finally, the young woman nodded resignedly. "But not here."

"And you'll answer my questions?"

"Only if I can."

Using what felt like a wall to support himself as he cautiously ascended a steep, slightly uneven stairway, Ulfric squinted into the darkness around him. "Why have you brought me here?"

There came a small pop from behind him as Kajsa summoned a ball of magelight and tossed it up towards the ceiling. Brushing past him, she continued up the stairs and past the landing. "We can talk here without being overheard."

"In the old Aretino residence?" Following her, the jarl emerged into a large, square central room that had seen better days. Some of the floorboards had been torn up and cobwebs clung to the exposed wood beams of the ceiling. Dust covered the furniture and sundry pots and plates were strewn about in a haphazard manner. The whole place smelled musty, with another, sharper undertone that he couldn't place.

"Before you say anything, it's not cursed." Squatting by the empty, cold hearth, the Dragonborn gathered up some wood from the slapdash pile nearby and shoved it in. "It's only an empty house with a dark history."

"I've heard the rumors." Ulfric crossed to the single bed shoved up against the far wall and seated himself. "About a year ago, the guards were whispering that the Aretino boy had performed the Black Sacrament."

"For once, the guards got something right." She conjured flames over one palm and directed them towards the fireplace in one smooth motion. The dry wood caught alight almost instantly. "Fortunately, Aventus had the decency to clean up his mess before heading back to Honorhall."

"You seem to be making yourself at home," he commented. "Thinking of moving in?"

The young woman shook her head as she stood up, warming her hands by the crackling fire. "Hardly. It's a nice enough house, but it's much too small for my liking."

"If you're looking to purchase property in Windhelm, you're not buying the Palace of the Kings from me," the jarl warned her with a smile. "Though I have no doubt that if there was a price attached, you could probably match it."

Kajsa only laughed, shrugging off her black hooded robe to reveal a well-worn, long-sleeved tunic with leggings and leather boots. Draping the garment over the back of a rickety chair near the fireplace and slinging her knapsack to the floor beside it, she turned the chair to face him and sat down in it, her face growing serious again. "What do you want to know?"

Ulfric decided to start with an innocuous question. "First of all, how did you know to look for me at the Temple of Talos?"

"I didn't. I was headed there anyway."

"To pray?" he asked incredulously. I thought she didn't set much store by the Nine.

"I'm not lying to you. Although," she admitted, looking down at her hands, curled in her lap, "I wasn't expecting to see you there."

"I had trouble sleeping and I decided to step out," he said curtly, switching the topic. "Why didn't you follow Galmar's orders and return to Windhelm?"

"Something else came up that was more urgent than that. It had to be done immediately; there was no time for me to formally request leave."

"And what might that have been?" The jarl leaned over his knees, waiting expectantly for her response.

The Dragonborn slowly raised her head, dark eyes intently grave. "Before I continue, let me make it very clear that you are not to tell anyone of what I am about to say."

"I swear by the might of Talos that I will not speak of this to another."

Nodding in approval, the young woman settled back in her chair, resting her elbows on the armrests. It suddenly struck Ulfric that she looked unusually tired, haggard even. What has happened to her?

"I needed to cure myself," she confessed quietly.

"Of what?"

Averting her eyes from his, Kajsa bit her lower lip again, clearly uncertain about whether to continue or not.

"You said you would be honest with me, Red-Blade," the jarl reminded with an edge to his voice. "What were you curing yourself of?"

The Dragonborn swallowed. "The beastblood. I – I was a werewolf."

Shocked into silence, Ulfric stared at her incredulously, unsure of how to react. As a boy, he'd been frightened with stories of men who became wolves with the cycle of the moons, but he never thought there was any truth in the tales. Dragons, draugr, and now, werewolves. I should know better by now.

He found his voice again and it rose in the still. "By the Gods, why didn't you tell me?"

"Would you have everyone know that you possessed the beastblood?" the Dragonborn retorted. "Besides, it wasn't my secret to share. Had I told you, I would have endangered others."

The jarl frowned. "There are more of you?"

"Yes." She didn't volunteer any additional information.

He decided to ask a different question. "For how long?"

"Not long. Only about three or four months at the most."

"If you don't mind my asking... how did it happen?"

The young woman crossed her arms over her chest. "I do mind you asking that. But I accepted the gift freely."

Why would anyone want to become a – a monster? Ulfric changed the subject again. "Why did you cure yourself?"

Kajsa sighed, picking at a loose thread of her tunic. "I couldn't control the beastblood. I used to be able to, but –" she shrugged sharply, almost angrily "– not anymore."

"Why not?"

"I don't know," she said quietly. "Ever since I returned from Sovngarde, it was harder for me to restrain myself. No amount of hunting or feeding could satiate the beast."

Something suddenly clicked in his mind. "Was that how you slew Galmar's ice wraith?"

A smile flitted across the Dragonborn's lips. "I thought you'd never figure it out."

"And the 'monstrous wolf' that Balgruuf's messenger was babbling about?" the jarl pressed. "That was you as well, wasn't it?"

Her smile twisted into a grimace, and the young woman nodded. "I made the Change intentionally... but the beast had other ideas than simply fleeing." She sighed. "It became clear to me afterwards that perhaps it was time I let go of that blessing."

"A 'blessing?'" Ulfric echoed in disbelief. "A blessing that caused you to lose control over your actions and slaughter your own kind in cold blood?"

"You don't understand what it was like before my restraint started slipping." Kajsa's eyes suddenly seemed very far away, almost dreamy. "Every time I hunted as a wolf deep in the forests, every time I brought down my prey and feasted on my kill, every time I howled to the moon and let it be known that I was on the prowl... it gave me such a rush. I loved the power and freedom that the beast form gave me."

The jarl remained unconvinced. "Being a werewolf sounds more like a curse to me than anything else."

"Perhaps. But my particular strain of lycanthropy did, in fact, originate with a curse – which is probably the only reason it could be cured."

"How exactly does one cure the beastblood?"

The Dragonborn paused for a moment before replying. "It's complicated and dangerous."

"And you can't tell me," Ulfric finished with a twinge of irritation in his voice. "Why can't you reveal any of this?"

"Because two people that I know have died because of this blessing – or curse – becoming known." Her expression was almost pleading. "Someday, I might tell you more, but now is not that time."

"Then at least answer my remaining questions truthfully." The jarl stood up, towering over the seated young woman. "Do you trust me?"

Kajsa swallowed, but her gaze remained steady. "I wish I could."

"Then what's stopping you?"

"Because I never know what you're going to do next and how it will affect me," she retorted bitterly. "You don't see me as another soldier; you either view me as a living weapon or a prospective notch on your bedpost."

Sharp-tongued as ever. "Then that needs to be amended," he conceded. "The relationship between a soldier and their commander is crucial to the success of a war –"

"Spare me the speech." The Dragonborn tiredly brushed some loose strands of hair away from her face. "What's your master plan to win my trust?"

Ulfric ignored her sarcasm in favor of a sincere inquiry. "What would I need to do in order to accomplish that?"

Standing up in a move to match his height, the young woman looked him straight on the eye. "Never send me on a mission like that of Whiterun again."

"Done," he agreed readily.

To his surprise, Kajsa smiled slightly. "Then I believe we can be on better terms. Now, if you don't mind –" she snatched up her robe from the back of her chair and started pulling it on "– I'll be off to the Palace of the Kings to catch up on my sleep."

The jarl returned the gesture, bending down to fetch her knapsack for her. "What a coincidence. I was headed there as well."

"I intend to sleep alone, Jarl Ulfric." She coldly took her satchel from him, hefting it onto her back decisively.

"I intend to escort you to the palace... and nothing more," he countered smoothly. Unless you wish it.

The Dragonborn was still for a moment. "You said earlier that you... that you cared for me," she said slowly, articulating the words as if they were of a language foreign to her. "What exactly did you mean by that?"

"Exactly what I said." Draping one arm over her shoulders, Ulfric pulled the young woman a little closer to him.

Almost reflexively, she put a hand up to ward him off. "But in what way?"

The jarl fell silent to ponder her question. Deep in his soul, he knew that she was the woman for him. There was no denying that she possessed a unique kind of beauty that was a vast departure from the typical buxom, blonde image of Nord women, intelligence and cunning far beyond her years, prowess in battle, her prodigious command of the Voice – and that she held some sway over his heart already. Even with the frustration that she caused him with her arrogant pride or her independent nature or all of the unanswered questions he had, he yearned after her all the same.

He wanted her; that, he knew. But it was more than just her appearance or her talents or the political advantage, and yet, Ulfric couldn't put his finger on exactly what it was.

Musing quietly, the jarl gazed at her as the firelight danced over her face and cast shadows on its planes. If I were to kiss her right now...

Kajsa's low, hoarse voice interrupted his thoughts. "What are you thinking about?"

"This." Gently drawing her against him, he leaned in and their mouths met.

The first time they'd kissed, it was forceful and driven by anger. The second time, it was more of an apology from him to her, more comforting and tender. This time, it was a silent accord that made his heart pound in his chest, one that made him feel newly alive and full of passion and longing. There was no doubt in his mind that this kiss was the best of the three.

His free hand found her waist, stroking the curve of it as it flared out into her hip. Under his lips, the Dragonborn let out a little sound of pleasure as she wrapped her arms around his neck and tangled her fingers in his hair and the bear-fur trim of his robe. Her warm body pressed into his as she kissed him back and took his breath away.

Gradually, the young woman pulled away with a wry smile. "I suppose I have my answer, then."

He brought his hand up to caress her cheek. "But do you feel the same way?"

She bit her lip in reflection, and for one petrifying moment, Ulfric feared that she would deny any attraction. Do not lie to me. Especially not now.

Then: "I – it's hard to say. Gods know I've thought about this enough, but – but I still don't know the answer." The kiss had laid her emotions bare for him to see; the bewilderment was evident in her dark eyes. "I – I know I feel something, but – I don't know if it's real..."

The jarl let out his breath quietly, not realizing he'd been holding it until now. "Whatever you feel towards me... just give it some time. Please: give me a chance." To win your trust – and to win you.

Kajsa nodded. "I'll – I'll see. I'll try."

"That's all I'm asking for." Reluctantly dropping his hand from her cheek, he gestured towards the landing in the next room over, suddenly feeling more tired than he had in a long time. "Come. Let's return to the Palace of the Kings." We both need sleep and time to think on what has passed.

[A/N] Review... you know you want to. Besides, I'm only ten reviews away from getting ONE HUNDRED REVIEWS! *Flailing Kermit arms* (Which is really exciting to me, so please drop a comment if you can!)