The reason is you - 3rd of Evening Star - 4 E 201 - Windhelm - The Palace of the Kings
Eliana reached the ancient city by night and found the throne-room empty.
"I believe you will find the jarl upstairs, Dragonborn.", Jorleif told her when she met him in the war room.
"Thank you, Jorleif. I… should probably wait until tomorrow morning, then."
"He's been expecting news from Whiterun all day. I highly doubt he will be asleep."
The girl nodded and reluctantly climbed upstairs. Last time she had walked this floor had resulted in bruised ego and swollen ribs.
Lost in her thoughts, she soon reached the jarl's bedchambers and absent-mindedly knocked on the door.
"Come in.", she was surprised to hear him answer straight away.
The Dragonborn carefully opened the door and found the jarl sitting at his desk, frowning upon a red leather covered file Eliana immediately recognized: the Thalmor dossier.
"Dovahkiin.", he witnessed her. "Do I take it Whiterun is ours?"
The girl nodded.
"With minimal casualties on our side.", she added. "Balgruuf the Greater was escorted out of the hold. Vignar Greymane is to be set as the new jarl. Galmar… Galmar will stay there a few days… to ensure the Empire doesn't strike back."
She was losing it. Guilt overwhelmed her. People who trusted her had perished by her hand; blood of friends stained her blade, her hands, and her soul. Hyperventilating, stammering, she felt to the point of utter collapse but just couldn't let go in front of the jarl.
Ulfric turned his gaze to her and realized she was crying.
"Whiterun is yours. I will wait for further orders from you.", she blurted out. "May I take my leave?"
Not waiting for an answer, she turned her heels and reached for the doorknob.
"Soldier, wait!"
She stopped dead, hopeless and enraged. Couldn't he see she needed air? Privacy! To collapse on one of the benches of the Temple of Talos and pray until guilt and exhaustion finally got the better of her and allowed her to sleep… Maybe not… Maybe he did not care she betrayed her friends, her jarl, her thanehood for him… Maybe he didn't understand how ashamed she was… He sure was the last person she wanted to see right now!
"Show me your face."
His voice made her shiver. He gently grabbed her hand and forced her to look at him.
"Are you alright?", he asked, sincerely concerned.
"No.", she answered truthfully. "But I will be. I must."
The jarl said nothing for a while, refusing to let her go.
"You have nothing to be ashamed of, Dragonborn. Balgruuf had a chance to side with us. He chose this path."
"Betrayal is something one should always be ashamed of.", she answered darkly. "I do not regret taking Whiterun.", she clarified. "I… know we needed the hold if we want to have any chance to win this war… but… every drop of blood spilt on Whiterun's soil, every life I took… I know they will haunt me all my life. I was a thane of this city… people trusted me… and I betrayed them."
They said nothing for a while then, Eliana brought herself to whisper.
"Let go of me, please."
Ulfric's hand softly squeezed hers, in an attempt to hold her back, but finally let go. Eliana hesitantly looked up, and once more drowned herself in his steel-grey eyes. She found herself unable to move, unable to think, unable to feel any guilt for what she had done… She slowly realized what he meant to her… That he was the reason she fought… The reason she's been fighting for all along! Since Helgen, she survived only to see him again! When she escaped the dungeon, when she fought Sahloknir on the heights of Kynesgrove, when she died in Skuldafn, when she came back from Sovngarde… It was all for him. And never should he know this! For if he knew, never would he respect her again. And his respect was all she had left.
"May I take my leave, my jarl?", she repeated, her voice weak and unsteady.
Ulfric nodded and leaned forward to reach for the doorknob.
"Rest.", he said softly. "Tomorrow is another day."
The young woman bowed respectfully and left the room, silently closing the door shut behind her. Alone in the hallway, she let out a broken sigh and leaned her forehead against the bronze door, just to be close to him again. Never would she know, on the other side of the metal panel, Ulfric did the same.
5th of Evening Star - 4 E 201 - Windhelm - The Palace of the Kings
A courier brought news from Whiterun on the morning. Ulfric hastily opened the letter he recognized to be of Galmar's writing, and let out a relieved sigh upon his reading.
Safety and peace had been brought back to Whiterun; Hjornskar Head-Smasher would take command of the soldiers garrisoned there as hold guards; the dead and wounded were being dealt with; and no resistance had been encountered in any of the villages around.
Galmar would head back to Windhelm within ten days, although he pointed out he could hast his return if Ulfric gave the word. The jarl laid the letter on the map table and removed the three red-flags marking Whiterun hold, replacing them by blue ones.
They were slowly advancing their position in the West of Skyrim, but their Eastern flank was dangerously exposed. The Pale did not represent much of a threat, but still forced him gather soldiers up in the wilds, in case of an Imperial gathering, that would indicate the Legion's intention of marching on Windhelm.
His main concern now was The Rift. No doubt, after their victory in Whiterun, Tullius would ask for reinforcement from Cyrodiil. The Rift offered them a direct road to Windhelm. Ulfric climbed up to his chambers and searched the shelves for a map of Cyrodiil - one he hadn't studied for about thirty years. He found it, folded - or rather crumpled - in a drawer of his desk, alongside with other relics of his days in the Legion. He didn't realize it back then, but it was the very same drawer in which he had stored the Thalmor dossier. His past, his mistakes, the young, impulsive man he used to be, locked away in the darkness, but close at hand, as if never forgotten…
He shook these thoughts of his head and unfolded the map on his desk. With a compass, he quickly estimated the distance Imperial couriers would have to stride and the time it would take to get the message to the Imperial city. If they travelled through Falkreath and the Colovian Highlands: about two weeks. Another week to gather the men in Bruma and then march on Skyrim, either East or West. In a month, Tullius could gather enough men in Riften to walk on Windhelm. Unless the couriers never reached Cyrodiil…
The jarl armed himself with a quill and wrote three messages; one for Thorryg Sun-Killer, the commander of Falkreath encampment, one for Galmar, in Whiterun, and the last for jarl Thongor Silver-blood of Markarth.
'Imperial couriers are likely to stride the road to Cyrodiil. They are to be stopped at all costs.'
He'd send three trusted couriers deliver the messages within the day.
Back to the war-room, he considered the map before him for a short time before a second scheme formed in his mind. Even if the Fourth Legion did receive reinforcement from Cyrodiil, they would still wait for Tullius' orders… And now he'd lost the road through Whiterun, the only way he could send the word to his troops based in the South of Skyrim was via Falkreath. If this hold fell under stormcloak custody, it would definitely cut any relation between Solitude and the rest of Fourth Legion. 'Cut off the head of the Legion.' The thought made him chuckle darkly. There was no denying he would enjoy returning Tullius the favor he once did to him. To have him helplessly watch his soldiers slaughtered before he was himself handed to the headsman axe.
Helgen. Never would he forgive. Never would he forget.
But as he thought of this day, other images, other memories replaced those of Tullius and the Legion… Images of the woman sitting next to him in this cart driving them to their death.
He suddenly realized he never knew the reason why she had been arrested in the first place.
'As long as her criminal past stays in the past…'
No… he couldn't so easily reject this question in the back of his mind. He slowly realized how few he knew about the woman he was falling for…
'Falling for'. The two words took him aback. Yet, for the beginning he had felt attracted to her. Attraction… and respect. That he was sure he felt. About the rest… another day would come, when he could investigate his own feelings further… But not now! Now, all that mattered was Skyrim! He could not allow himself to be distracted… not by her, nor by anyone!
The noise of metal against stone echoed loudly through the throne-room and to the war-room. Laila Law-Giver and her court were there.
It had been thirty six days since the Peace council, a month since the loss of the Rift and the Pale, a month since the former jarls of these two holds had found refuge in his palace. While he got along quite well with Skald the Elder - the old warrior even confessing he enjoyed his stay in Windhelm for he could sleep a dreamless sleep for the first time in months! - Laila Law-Giver was slowly getting on his nerve. The woman never much liked him, and never quite hid her dislike, but having her wander around, slamming doors, complaining about her exile made the mutual grudge harder to ignore.
Slowly rubbing his temple in an attempt to keep a headache at bay, Ulfric walked around the table and slammed the door of the war-room shut before going back to reading Galmar's report.
Talking about distraction… At least, Eliana Evergreen never forced him to avoid his own throne-room!
5th of Evening Star - 4 E 201 - Windhelm
A cold wind blew on Windhelm, and though the sun was high and the skies bright, a soft whirl of snow fell upon Eastmarch.
Eliana was aimlessly pacing the streets of the ancient stronghold of Ysgramor in hope of getting the golden city out of her mind, but to no avail. No new had come from Whiterun for two days. She started considering asking Ulfric to send her back, to help, but what would it change? If people she knew had indeed perished in the flames… if families were broken… lives destroyed… Could she ever have the courage to set foot in Whiterun again? To face the very people who protected her in the first place only to be betrayed by the person they were first to put their faith in…
No… she'd never have the courage. She would never see Whiterun again.
Her hand softly brushed over the bronze doorknob of the Palace of the Kings. Now her mind was made up about Whiterun, she started wondering why Ulfric could have her convoked.
5th of Evening Star - 4 E 201 - Windhelm - The Palace of the Kings
Ulfric aimlessly paced the war-room, trying to clear up his mind.
'… outrageously overstepped her rank…'
Galmar's full report spread on several pages but what the jarl was really concerned about right now was the general's statement about one of their soldiers' attitude in battle.
'… taking commandment of a unit of twelve soldiers…'
One woman who took on her to spread out their troops around the lower districts while the battle was still raging uptown.
'… cold-minded and strategic…'
Eliana Evergreen.
'…Her actions, however precipitate and misplaced, without a doubt saved countless civilian lives.'
The final line of Galmar's report left Ulfric in utter doubt about his meaning. He smiled, imagining how hard these words must have been for his friend to write. It was no secret he despised the half-elven, still he gave recognition to her qualities in battle, not only as a fighter, but also as a commander. True, as a soldier, she should have stayed in her place, and simply follow the plan, but if she had, Whiterun would be down to ashes.
She had the nerves to lead when others would follow…
She already proved herself to be a daughter of Skyrim, a stormcloak; proud, fiery, determined, unyielding, and caring for her land and people… Now she proved herself worthy of an officer: unflinching and cold-minded enough to take over a leaderless army and lead them with her very home-town burning around her. She hadn't given-up to panic or guilt, pushing the later back until her mission was accomplished - she wouldn't even have let him know, wouldn't he have held her back. She was strong but never brutal; sensible but never weak; cold-blooded but never heartless.
There was a knock at the door.
The jarl folded Galmar's report and left it by the map before he answered.
"The Dragonborn is here, my lord.", Jorleiff announced.
"Let her in."
The steward stood aside to allow the young woman clad in her blue uniform to enter the war-room. She muttered a word of thanks to the steward and respectfully bowed before the jarl.
"Thank you, Jorleiff. Leave us."
The steward bowed and headed back to the throne-room, closing the door behind him.
"I received new from Whiterun.", the jarl stated, motioning to Galmar's report. He saw her eyes brighten at these words, yet her face went pale. Unable to silence her concern any longer, she stepped forward and asked:
"Did General Stone-Fist send a count of the…" She tried but to no avail to control her emotions. Her voice broke on the last words. "…civilian casualties?"
The jarl nodded. Of course she would ask. Whiterun was her home. The first place she took refuge in after Helgen. No matter what he would ever tell her, she would always feel guilty for the sack of this city.
"No victims."
The young woman let out a relieved sigh.
"Fire destroyed most of the Plains District and part of the Cloud District. A few people were lightly burned, or wounded, and they've been taken care of.", the jarl explained. "Our position in the hold is secured. Riverwood and Rorikstead surrendered without a fight."
"It provides a straight road to the Reach.", Eliana couldn't help but notice. "Markarth will be easier to supply, now."
Ulfric nodded.
"It is a powerful position.", he admitted. "One I intend to keep. This is why I need capable and loyal warriors close at hand."
The girl nodded, unsure of his meaning.
"Your prowess in battle didn't remain unnoticed.", he explained further. "Galmar reports that you took commandment of a dozen of soldiers in the Plain District."
His tone didn't voice any discontent or anger, but the young woman found herself unable to meet his gaze.
"I shouldn't have overstepped my rank.", she apologized. "I am sorry, jarl Ulfric. This won't happen ever again."
"I know it won't.", the jarl stated. "Do not fret.", he added after a short yet unbearable silence. "When others panicked, deprived of their leader, you took upon yourself to spread our men through the fire and search for civilians. Your coldblooded determination in battle saved countless lives… and proved you worthy of becoming an officer."
Eliana looked up in disbelief.
"We shall call you Ice-Veins, now…", the jarl stated. "…for the thick blood of our land has seeped into your heart."
"Ice-Veins…"
"That's your rank.", he smiled, remembering pronouncing the very same words a few weeks ago when he named her 'Unblooded'.
"You show great passion for battle, and compassion for those we fight for. I am proud of you."
Eliana's eyes widened and she violently blushed.
"Thank you, my jarl.", she breathed, fighting hard to control the tremor in her voice.
Ulfric nodded and turned to the table standing against the southern side of the room and fetched a short sword in a carved sheathe then handed it to Eliana.
"Here. Take this, as your badge of office."
The young woman unsheathed the sword, revealing a sculpted blade, its hilt stamped with an open-winged dragon.
"It's an Imperial officer sword.", Ulfric explained. "A fitting weapon to use against our enemy."
"What's our next move?", the young woman asked, sheathing her sword with a soft clear sound.
"I suspect you'll be of greater use to us with greater freedom, so you're free to engage the Imperials as you see fit and cause as much mayhem as possible for the Empire and any Jarl who supports them. However, I need you to report at dawn on the fifteenth of this month. Galmar will be back and you'll receive your new orders then."
"At your command, my lord."
Ulfric bowed curtly, allowing her to take her leave.
The young woman headed out of the war-room. Ulfric fought hard for his gaze not to follow her and focused once more on their positions over their newly taken hold.
Conquest was but the prologue… Keeping was the real challenge.
The Empire would soon retaliate. Whiterun was vulnerable. Soon, very soon, they needed secure their position… Take Falkreath.
Sorry for the late posting, this chapter gave me quite a hard time! Well... not really this chapter but the different versions of this chapter ^^ Still! I wrote a whole 3 pages scene that was supposed to take place here, but will end up a few chapters later so... that explains why it took me so long to post!
Anywayyyy!
Firstly : The title is a reference to the song by Hoobastank , "The reason is you" :) I've been listening to this song a looooot while writting this chap and the next few ones :)
Secondly : Assassin's creed reference : DONE!
Thirdly : Bi*ch number five, on her way! ^^
Fourthly : Fluff! :D Please, let me know what you thought of this :)
Hope you enjoyed! Stay tuned, don't forget to review!
Then again, talking about review! Time to answer yours :)
Reply to Banana Man : Ah, you know, I'll take things slow ^^ Wouldn't be fun otherwise! ^^ Stay tuned, they will tell each other in less chapters than were already posted lol In less that thirty chapters! Good plan, no? ^^