The wagon shook beneath us as the driver hit a bump in the road. It tossed the lot of us around, threatening to toss Vilkas out of the wagon. He caught himself, though, and he adjusted in his seat as Cassius laughed at him. Lydia just shook her head, not wanting to participate in the comedic elements of Vilkas' nearly tragic fall. By tragic, of course, I mean tragically hilarious.

We had transitioned from the cold of Eastmarch to the scorching heat of the Rift in the few hours we'd spent in the wagon. I was sweating buckets beneath my furs, but I refused to say anything about it. I just leaned back, my arms folded across my chest, and grit my teeth until we arrived to the camp.

Deciding I needed something to distract me from the sweat pooling under my beard, I struck up a conversation. I turned to Cassius. "Dragonborn, explain this dynamic to me."

He looked at me, a confused look souring his face. "What dynamic?"

I waved my finger in a circle, at some point pointing at each of my fellow passengers. "This dynamic. How are you all connected?"

Cassius blinked once before he understood. "Oh!" he exclaimed in realization, and I rolled my eyes. "The dynamic trio, you mean. Well, I can explain that for sure. See, it's a long and twisted tale of tragedy and loss—"

"Spare me the bravado, Dragonborn. Just answer the question."

Cassius grimaced. "Lydia is my wife. Vilkas is my sister's husband."

See, that's all I needed. I nodded. "And your sister? Where is she?"

Vilkas spoke. "She's in Whiterun."

"Ah, that's right. Harbinger of the Companions." I said, nodding to Vilkas. I was beginning to like him more than Cassius, if I have to be completely honest. He was very straight-to-the-point, while the Dragonborn felt the need to regale us with his many tales of slaying dragons to answer how long the wagon ride would be.

"Yes." Vilkas added, nodding to me. "She and my brother are doing some recruiting this week."

I laughed to myself. "Well, we may be able to help her in that aspect once the war is over. We have a lot of good men, but not a lot of work for them. I'm sure a fair amount would love to do work for your wife." I thought of Ralof, one of our top officers, who actually reminded me a lot of Vilkas. They had a lot in common, and in my mind they even sounded the same.

"Kara would like that." Vilkas added, not needing to say anything else.

Things were quiet after that, all of us alone with our own thoughts. I looked over at Cassius, who had slipped his arm over his wife's shoulder.

Seeing him brought back a lot of memories, especially with Ralof on my mind. Even though Ulfric loved the Dragonborn, I couldn't stand him. He was just pompous and self-loving and narcissistic. Cassius never seemed to do anything that didn't directly benefit himself.

And still, I knew it wasn't true. Not after that day at Helgen. Not after what he did for Ulfric.

I thought about that day often, and could easily deem it the worst day of my life. The day Ulfric decided that he wanted to rile the troops, lead them into battle. I had told him it was a bad idea. I had told him it was dangerous. I had told him that the moment an Imperial caught sight of him, he would be taken, along with his entire army.

As smart as the man was, he never listened to me. And if he had, maybe we wouldn't be this far behind in our war, because what I told him was exactly what happened. He took his troops to Darkwater Pass and waited for my arrival. I was only an hour out, an hour away, and still, an hour too late.

I remembered approaching the camp and knowing immediately that something was wrong. The smoke, the trash, the bodies that cluttered the ground. I had a few men with me, but not nearly enough to fight off the amount of Imperials that cluttered the camp. We had waited in the shrubbery nearby, sitting steady until one lonesome Imperial wandered off for a piss.

I had grabbed the man by the throat, covering his mouth so he couldn't cry for help. Blade pressed against the nape of his neck, I had demanded answers.

"Tell me where the Jarl is."

He has shaken his head, his eyes frantic. "I don't know."

I was shaking, absolute anger radiating through my bones. "Tell me where Jarl Ulfric is, you Imperial piece of shit, unless you want to die in the bushes like a rat."

Though he provided the information, I'd killed him anyway. Left him in the bushes like a rat. We had bolted to Helgen, as fast as we could manage. Still, we were too late.

I still had nightmares about the sight of the place. The fire, the bodies, the chopping block. It was the most horrific thing I'd ever seen. On top of it all, a young girl was in the litter of death, searching bodies for a face of some loved one, no doubt. The sight of her crying, the defeat on my men's faces, it drove me into a frenzy.

I had tossed everybody, searched every corpse, and checked every severed head. Still, none of the bodies had any resemblance to Ulfric. I remember searching houses, stores, burned buildings, even the watch tower, and there wasn't a trace of him. The voice in the back of my head told me he was fine. He had to be. But being a man who needs to see something to believe it, the guilt and heartbreak that washed over me far surpassed any shred of hope I had.

I had traveled back to Windhelm, head and heart in my dirty hands. I'd never felt so defeated in my entire life before that day. As I approached the palace, I didn't greet the guards or speak to anyone. I'd simply crawled into my bed and let the sorrow roll around in my stomach.

A few days had passed, and I had actually begun to compose plans to continue with the war. It was what Ulfric would have wanted, and honestly, I wanted every Imperial alive dead. I wanted everyone who even had a miniscule tie to Cyrodiil dead. I wanted everyone who'd even looked at an Imperial before dead.

And then, that fateful morning arrived, as did the rugged and dirty men in nothing but rags. I recognized Ralof immediately, and strode toward him and the man I'd never seen before. Once I realized that the third man in their party, the one that fell behind the other two, was Ulfric, I had run to them.

Pushing past the two men in front, unable to control myself, I'd thrown my arms around the Jarl and held him as close as I could. Realizing shortly after that it was out of line to behave as such, I had straightened up.

"My Jarl." I had said. "We went to Helgen. We thought you to be dead."

He had smiled at me. "I thought myself to be dead, Galmar. I was saved by these two men. We escaped through Helgen Keep, then traveled low through Skyrim's fields to escort me here."

I had patted Ralof's back, proud of the young man. Then, I had turned to the other man, who wore a face I'd never seen before. "And who are you?" I'd asked, my hand extended.

He had shaken my hand. "Cassius. Cassius Felstead."

"I cannot thank you enough." I had said, watching the Jarl absorb the scene. Cassius had left after that, not accepting any amount of coin or offer to stay the night we had extended to him. He had said he needed to go back, that he had a girl to return to.

I had spent the remainder of the day wide awake, watching over the Jarl as he slept. I knew he was safe in our palace, but something about the idea of his head on a chopping block still sends shivers down my spine and tells me to watch him like a hawk.

He had woken a few hours later, ready to regale me with his tale of his journey to Eastmarch, his journey home. I clung to every word he spoke, waiting with baited breath for him to speak again.

And just like that, everything we'd ever been through didn't matter. Not our years training as Imperial soldiers. Not our years of tragedy in the Great War. Not the year I spent searching for him, only to find him being held prisoner of war and tortured by the Thalmor bitch herself. Not the year his father died and he was seated as the Jarl. Not the years after the Legion, the years planning a rebellion, the years actually rebelling.

The only thing that mattered to me was that he was here with me now, that he was always in my reach. And in that moment, I realized that I wanted nothing in my life but his safety, his happiness, his love. I would do anything to have them. And if it meant taking a country for him, for the love of Talos, I would do it.

"Galmar?"

The voice interrupted my thoughts. I turned to Vilkas, who was watching me expectantly.

"Sorry, Vilkas. What did you ask?"

He smiled crookedly. "I asked if you had any family."

I nodded to him. "Only Jarl Ulfric." And with that, I had turned my head away from the group, waiting for this trip to be over so I could go home.