I got so many reviews, I think I'm going to cry. It was brilliant, like a shower of money. Here they are: thanks to Y-ko for the review (which was a little weird, but still), a MASSIVE thanks to Foacir for his great review which pointed out interesting stuff (Tullius' snow adventure is like Stannis'). Thanks to HereLies for his amazing review where he assessed the Civil War (I love reading it) and RaptorZeroOne for a nice review which made me warm inside. Thanks to blackwind2254 for the Story alert and favourite story and REVIEW! Cheers! I like the twists too. I love reading Mizpinkypu's decidedly more Tullius supporting review than others (Imperial-Hater's for example). Glad someone kind of likes him. HowYouRemindMe did an psychoanalysis on Tullius, which was nice and Beregon posted a story alert. DraGGonized posted an awesome review about fucking the Thalmor. (Er, not in that sense. Sorry, DraG.) Finally, thanks to TheOneAndOnlyEnigma (another cool name) for the favourite story and alert!

Whew! What a list. If you guys review like that again, I WILL get the chapter out in a two days max.

Anyway, thanks all. Also, to Foacir who basically gave me the idea for the whole chapter, thanks. Literally, this chapter would not exist as it does now.

Jarl Ulfric Stormcloak

The Niben was red. It was the 30th of Rain's Hand and General Jonna was preparing to attack. Ulfric Stormcloak, not a Jarl, or Thane, marched beside his fellow Nords, in the Empire's livery, his heart pounding and his mouth watering with anticipation.

The Imperial City stood stark in front of them, a couple of miles off. It had been under Aldmeri control for months, but now the Emperor had ordered the attack. They were to surround the city, and liberate it or die. It was going to be a glorious day…

They had struck, slamming into any Elven resistance in an attempt to meet up with the other Legions and surround the Elves. They fell to Ulfric's axe as he carved a bloody path through the Aldmeri, dodging their magic, taking hits on his shield. Blood ran down the banks of the Niben.

A force of Elves had tried to attack them from behind, to reinforce their allies, but they had pushed them back; destroyed them! Ulfric had fought bravely, he could say that without any arguments. When the Elven forces had broken their line Ulfric had led the defence, marshalling the men around him to fight, egging them on, shaming them; whatever worked. He had reformed the line, and shouted and screamed until his voice was hoarse.

When they had taken the capital back, it had been a special moment. General Jonna had recorded his heroic attempt at reforming and holding the line and it was such a feat that Ulfric stood in front of the Emperor in the victory celebrations in White-Gold Tower.

The Emperor had been brave and strong, a true leader. His head was shiny, but he was in his forties, powerful and tall, for an Imperial. There, in keeping with an Empire that honoured the traditions of their provinces, he had received his Carlhood (the Nordic version of a knighthood) at the hand of the Emperor himself, rising as Carl Ulfric Stormcloak. His father would have been proud. Alea would have been proud.

He had met her in the Imperial City. Ulfric had been part of a detachment sent ahead to reinforce the city. Little did they know that they would be beaten back anyway, and the city lost, but that hadn't troubled them; they didn't know, and in the months that led up to the Sack of the Imperial City Ulfric had courted Alea.

Alea had appeared as a serving girl, working for the Legions while they stayed in the city. It was Ulfric's good luck that they had met and that she had been one of his cohort's servants. When Ulfric had first met her she had been fifteen, light-haired and beautiful. Naturally Ulfric had brought forward his claim to Windhelm, but she hadn't paid attention to him at first, something which riled Ulfric's pride.

He had spent the next two weeks attempting to get her to notice him, which she deliberately ignored and later retaliated to, even serving him reduced rations with the claim that the piggy hadn't needed them. To be fair, Ulfric hadn't been fat, but he had been large, like now, towering over everyone and everything, even though he too was only fifteen. Ulfric hadn't given up, even staging mock fights where he was ganged up on by three of his Nord friends. Unfortunately, Alea had cheered for his friends. Bitch.

When it had turned out that this wasn't working, Ulfric moved to his next plan. Skill in combat was crucial in Nordic society, and Alea was a Nord, an attractive one, but a Nord nonetheless. Ulfric had displayed his superb skills with sword and axe, swinging them underarm, throwing them, disarming various opponents. She had taken an interest in that, but only to tell him that his stance was wrong. When Ulfric had asked her to show him, she had replied with a suitably scathing, yet racy, remark that made Ulfric blush and fume. Needless to say, he gave up on that.

His next scheme was to write poetry, something that he was decidedly bad at. But this had gotten through to her and so they had started a friendship based on teaching Ulfric poetry. He listened just long enough to improve, but otherwise he spent the sessions admiring her breasts and hips and scrawling down doodles which he was glad she had never had a look at. He was a teenager, and he acted like one.

Eventually, one month from the attack, Ulfric had managed to lure her into a trap. He been writing his poetry and, using his newfound talent, he wrote a poem dedicated to her. At this point Alea took him seriously as a suitor and when Ulfric proved his heritage using a ring given by him, from his father, she had leapt at the chance to 'date' him. One thing had led to another and then Ulfric was getting complains from his bunkmates about the noises they heard in the night.

His comrades were aware of what was happening and they had done the nice thing; they kicked him out of the bunks. Ulfric had taken down two of them, but the rest overwhelmed him. It wasn't my biggest loss, he thought in retrospect, and he had instead moved into Alea's room in a small hotel nearby; the servants in the Legion being given better treatment that the men. There, his son was conceived.

Alea had been shy at first, but when Ulfric had taken her maidenhead, she had become much more open and flirty. During the day, as Ulfric polished his boots, they would discuss the plans for the night. Occasionally, she would deny him, to keep Ulfric under her leash, but he couldn't say that he hadn't loved every moment of it.

Then the sack happened, and his capture at Aldmeri hands. His screams reverberated through his mind, jolting him awake.

Jarl Ulfric Stormcloak woke drenched in sweat. He sat back, and let the tears roll again. Alea was gone, and worse, Ulfric hadn't even tried to save her. At least during the Sack he had ignored his orders and ran for her house. It was in that street that he had been captured, but Ulfric thrust the thoughts from his mind. They hurt too much.

Instead he pulled on his shirt and breeches, and some boots and stumbled downstairs to see if Galmar was awake.

He was right; Carl Galmar stood at the war map, overlooking the lands. At Ulfric's approach he turned.

'Ulfric, you look like shit. Did you sleep well?'

'No, I didn't. What are you doing awake at this hour?'

'Planning your campaigns, my Jarl.'

'Even you need rest. Go.'

Galmar shot him an odd look, but he climbed the steps anyway. Ulfric slumped on the map, in no mood to explain himself. Occasionally his dreams got the best of him, and he did things to try and relieve himself of any feeling but it didn't always work.

Instead Ulfric turned his sleepy eyes onto the map. He traced a finger from Windhelm to Solitude. It's so far. Solitude is protected by Dragons Bridge and the Imperial Navy, at the sea. Only Solitude, Windhelm and Dawnstar had fleets… and Dawnstar was a Stormcloak ally. By Talos! An attack at sea! Tullius would never suspect it, and if they trapped him, then the war was as good as over. Not to mention that Alea had claimed that his son might still be in the capital.

Ulfric let out a massive whoop and turned back to the map, pulling a dagger from the side of the table and marking the city, stabbing the dagger deep into the wood. It was time to end the war…

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