Disclaimer: What's Bethesda's is theirs, etc. Stories might not be in chronological order.
A/N: Warning. Long-winded talking heads.
"Before Ysgramor led the Nord people south, our ancestors flourished in the frozen continent of Atmora, and to this day our people prefer the bitter climates of northern Tamriel. The Dark Elves abide in Morrowind, a harsh land of ashfall and perpetual earthquakes. The Argonians endure the treacherous and impenetrable depths of Black Marsh. The alliance between our races was born in dark times, when Nord, Dunmer and free Argonians fought as one to repel the invasion of the Akaviri slavemasters. Our greatest strength is the adversity we have overcome. Our resolve is glacial, our might is forged in fire, and our courage, cultivated by the beasts of the jungle. We are Ebonheart. We are as one. And by this, our victory is assured."
―Blood For The Pact!, Jorunn the Skald-King of Windhelm
WAKE UP
The customers were fighting over a piece of silk. Not a particularly pretty one or valuable one. At least it was a tough strip that would require more strength than either of them had to tear it. But they were loud and disruptive. Revyn moved around the counter to interfere but then the shop started shaking.
"Wake up. You have a visitor."
Dana Frostburn, the Nord assistant assigned to him by the Jarl's court.
"I'm sorry, did I oversleep again?" He sat up in the lounger and swung his legs to the floor, arching his back as he stretched. "A visitor you said?" he repeated, frowning. "Unscheduled? I'm surprised you allow this."
"I am known to make exceptions," she replied in dry tones. "Especially when he comes here instead of summoning you. Now straighten your clothes and comb your hair. Do you prefer tea or wine when meeting with the Jarl?"
"Vith!" Revyn swore.
"I've cleared your schedule for the next two marks. I'll check in after that if you need more time. Tea or wine?"
"Kafe, please. A spoon of honey in it also."
Corporal Mikel escorted in Ulfric who was in common armor and furs with a deep, face-concealing hood. The greatsword of Jyggalag's distinctive hilt was covered in a plain leather wrap and it rode in a cheap wood and leather sheath. Mikel assisted Ulfric to remove both coat and sword and hung them on the hooked rings along a carved staff suspended from the ceiling by silk strings. He also quickly collected his bedroll and bag. "Be right back with the mead, my Jarl," he said.
Ulfric had been here in Revyn's cellar office three times in the past to visit with Revyn's dying father-in-law, Antony Felix.
"Welcome, my Jarl." Revyn ushered Ulfric to a chair at the Dwemer spider table he'd just cleared off. "An unexpected honor. How may I be of service?"
"Your wife; where is she?"
"My... I believe she is still assisting the Dawnguard with cleaning out Volkihar Castle."
"Thane Icewind returned a week ago from there. He acknowledges that without your information the battle would not have gone well. The mages and priests you solicited held off the dark sorceries of the vampires and the secrets you provided of Volkihar's defenses saved many lives. Galmar's spies say you spent hours conversing with that vampire you claim was fallen kin, in Dunmeris, so they couldn't say for certain what you discussed."
"Family gossip merely. I was trying to reconnect, to see if there was any kinship left inside the monster he'd become. Not much, but he retained the family inclination for gossip and curiosity and so he didn't kill us right away."
Ulfric grunted. Anvil re-entered bearing a tray with a goblet of mead, a mug of kafe, and small plates of snacks. "I'll be waiting outside if you need anything, sir, my Jarl."
"Icewind brought back written details of the information you provided the Dawnguard. Hard to believe you had time to discuss any family with the amount of details provided."
"The knowledge was transferred by some unpleasant mind magic which I don't recommend. I'm still having nightmares of being a vampire and trapped in Volkihar and that horrible, unquenchable hunger for blood, and then I wake tasting blood and the stench of death in my nose." Revyn shuddered and stuffed a hot, spicy seaweed crisp in his mouth, sucking the salt and spices to shunt aside memory.
"Thane Icewind says he never saw your wife at the battle. His men never saw her. One would think that if the Dragonborn roused herself from her ice tower then her half-sister should be fighting by her side."
Revyn answered honestly. "I have no answer for that, my Jarl. My last understanding of plans was that my wife would be infiltrating through a back way."
Ulric's lips curled. "The knife behind the back then."
Revyn shrugged. "Personally, I'd use any expedient tactic to take down a vampire. Honor should not be a concern when the foe can resurrect your own brothers and sisters to fight against you." Ulfric acknowledge that point with a slight nod and lift of his goblet.
"You and your ghosts. So many rumors now proven true." Revyn didn't react, just waited. "But now I am curious about your other family, your connection to the Imperial mercenaries that have settled in the Rift, your continued relations with the Imperials in Solitude — and so the Felix kin continue to fortify their presence in Skyrim. You gave the Imperials a new fortress."
"I didn't 'give' the Legion anything. Fort Neugrad is Falkreath Hold. The Legion just claimed it. Indorils had no use for it because they were already committed to building in Ivarstead, and a fort is no place for orphans.
"And, yes, I asked a family favor from the Faldor's Tooth mercenaries to rescue your spies. They may have originally come from Colovia but already accepted a number of Nord warriors into their company. Commander Victor is newly married to a Felix cousin, the side of the family that are wine merchants. That's why her family bought Goldenglow Estate. Black-Briar Meadery could use some healthy competition. Honestly, would you rather your mead be made from the cleaner parts of the lake and the fresh mountain run-offs rather than from the sewage drawn directly from the canal beneath Riften? If you sometimes think you smell piss in Black-Briar Mead, you're not wrong. That and fish guts from the Riften fishery.
"And Victor fought under the banner of Geirmund's Honor. Mage Geirmund, the royal battlemage of High King Harald of Windhelm. I thought you'd be pleased by that. They did it without pay and they've lost men. That's a long way from home to die for Skyrim's orphans. They won't fight for the stormcloaks, mind you. They follow the example of the Companions of Jorrvaskr to remain neutral."
Revyn finished his kafe, which had gone cold as he'd talked, and let his gaze drift towards the door and the Jyggalag sword hanging from the Wabbajack. "Are we back to accusing me of treason against Windhelm, against yourself? I am not scheming with or for the Empire. I am simply trying to run the business I started before becoming your steward. I also believe I am doing as you had expected me to do; I am making sure the Gray Quarter is not being a drain on Windhelm and, in fact, contributes to Windhelm's overall wealth. Have not the tax revenues increased? Is there not new business coming in? Jorlief has been quite specific about continuing concerns expressed by your court. He also has mine.
"Forgive me for being blunt, my Jarl, but you Nords seem to prize that. What do you want from me now?
"I hadn't gotten two hours of sleep in my bed before your stormcloaks were dragging me out for questioning. Galmar and Thane Gilder took turns for days. I'm very grateful they did not employ any Thalmor methods. My pain tolerance isn't what it used to be. Galmar put me under house arrest. I've worked every waking hour since my return to catch up on Quarter business and only leave for court sessions."
"What do you know of Thalmor interrogation methods?" asked Ulfric, staring intently at him through narrowed eyes. Revyn stared unflinchingly back.
"I believe it came out at Antony Felix's funeral that my wife performed a, um, a 'Solitude job' for the Dragonborn; do you recall?"
"No. I only recall that she has taken on several tasks for the College."
"Ah. Well, the Dragonborn needed some information she believed was at the Thalmor Embassy.** I know you know of Northwatch Keep. My wife was the one who rampaged through it to rescue Thorald Gray-Mane along with many others. My beloved is not very subtle, especially against the Dominion. Childhood prejudices I'm sure you understand. She also is a packrat, which is how I managed to build my business by selling off her undiscriminating collections. Northwatch was the year I had a lot of quality Altmer armor and weapons to sell." Ulfric responded with a grim smile.
"My point is my wife collected several interesting things from the Embassy and Ambassador Elenwen's personal rooms. She observed an interrogation session and was all too happy to kill any Thalmor in the area to rescue more prisoners."
Revyn went to the wall behind his desk and pushed aside the Hlaalu banner hanging there. He traced a pattern on the smooth surface and a panel popped open to reveal six shelves holding small boxes, books, and miscellaneous items. He extracted a book and returned to the table.
"A translated copy of Elenwen's record of the interrogation of Ulfric of Windhelm." He slid the book to Ulfric who snatched it up and began skimming through the pages. "The originals are in the hands of the Dragonborn. My wife brought these to me first because she knew I could read Altmeris. We were both very annoyed that job put her on the Thalmor's kill-on-sight list. You wouldn't believe how many Altmer assassin teams and heretic patrols she continues to dodge."
Dana knocked on the door. While Ulfric skimmed through the dossier, Revyn consulted with Dana. She reluctantly agreed to reschedule his late afternoon appointments and delay other matters except for the more urgent ones he would need to see to before this day would be over. If the jarl was still here another two marks, she would have a light supper delivered.
Out of the corner of his eye he observed the dark scowl on Ulfric's face, so he began chattering in light, soothing tones. "I must thank you again for making me take on staff two Nords. Sera Frostburn was an unexpected blessing. She organized my volunteers and sorted through many petty court matters during my absence so that when I finally got back I would only have to concentrate on important ones. Anvil may have been a bad stormcloak but he deals fairly, with open hands, and is slowly winning the respect of the Dunmer. He has also proven himself an excellent vampire hunter. And a more pleasant jail warden I couldn't ask for even if he seems to have adopted Sera Frostburn as his grandmother. When she says I need to go for a walk to clear my head, if I hesitate, he'll drag me bodily to the door and ask her how long a walk." That won a snort of amusement out of Ulfric.
"What were the other books recovered from that evil, sadistic bitch?"
"Oh, studies on the dragon problem, Blade hunting records, other interrogation and subversion projects." Revyn shrugged.
"Who else has seen this?"
"The late Antony. I needed his advice on how to handle the situation I was in and he needed to know the players."
For the next candlemark Ulfric carefully reread the dossier. Revyn sat, half drowsing and recalling the days before Antony Felix's death. Ulfric had visited Antony as he rested here in Revyn's office turned guest room for his in-laws. They hadn't been alone. Galmar had hovered, guarding his Jarl's back. Watching out for Antony had been his son Taliesin, his physician, Hadrien, and Cousin "Little" Nicky. That was the first meeting. Two other visits followed with only Hadrien as silent witness. Galmar had stood guard outside the office to make sure no one interrupted them.
"Had the Legate ever told you what we discussed?" asked Ulfric. Revyn opened his eyes. Ulfric looked grim but not immediately dangerous.
"He mentioned you had some questions about the Great War, nothing else. I never asked any further." Revyn finished off his kafe while considering his next move. "If you wish to, I'll bring you the other books. Perhaps you would be curious to see what else Elenwen has been up to in Skyrim. See who else she has hooks into."
"Anything on the Dragonborn?"
"Alas, no. My dear wife really didn't have much time to do a thorough search for other information. She grabbed what she could from the torture chambers. She was only able to make an escape because one of the prisoners they were torturing had observed where the guards disposed of bodies. They all escaped through the body disposal hatch.
"Ah, and if you're wondering if that same route could be used to get back in, no. New trolls have been moved into the cavern and the dungeon hatch door is now heavily trapped with spells that, if they don't immediately kill you, will alert the entire Embassy. And lovely Elenwen hasn't been in the partying mood since so no more Embassy parties." Revyn grimaced. "I had the displeasure of meeting her at the Vicci-Snowshod invitation-only reception. Too curious about my wife, but she made for an excellent excuse I gave to Vittoria to skip out on most of the party."
"The opportunity to talk to General Tullius about Korvanjund, that I do recall," said Ulfric. "How did your wife get into the Thalmor Embassy in the first place?"
"Through one of the Dragonborn's contacts. A hidden Blade — you do know about the Blades, yes? — well, she knew of one survivor in hiding who was still working to bring down the Thalmor and avenge her Order. Goes by the name of Delphine. Oh, I see you know her." Ulfric only growled in response. "I agree. A most unpleasant woman."
"How much do you know of her?" Ulfric asked.
"Delphine? I have the dossier on her. And then I had the misfortune to meet her when she came to my shop for assistance in a fool's errand to find some mythical artifact."
"Your wife is known for finding hidden treasures; you, for selling them."
Revyn grinned, nodding to acknowledge that dig. "Welcome to Sadri's Used Wares; I'm sure I have something you need. But, I didn't have what she wanted and she was extremely unpleasant about that." Revyn gestured to the dossier. "The book is yours if you want it, my Jarl, no charge."
"You lie," Ulfric said, his voice flat, "by that accursed sword you gave me. No magic but the power of truth you told me. There's always a price."
"Facts and truths are not always the same," Revyn said gently. "Jyggalag's aspect was of hard, cold, unmerciful facts devoid of modifying or relative circumstances. Fact is that I ask no coin; truth is that I hope the book will incline your willingness to listen further to me." Revyn leaned forward. "Will you consider something for me, my Jarl?"
Ulfric didn't verbally refuse so Revyn took it for permission.
"The day of Helgen. General Tullius was defying protocol and rushing your execution to end the war. Ambassador Elenwen was there trying to save your life. If the General had followed proper protocol as she insisted, you should have been sent to Cyrodiil to be tried in the Emperor's court. Plenty of time then for Elenwen to snatch you away and torture you until you're again a working asset before allowing you to escape. Or you may not have broken in which case you'll have died a horrible, accidental death while trying to escape before reaching Cyrodiil.
"The war should have ended that day but for the return of the dragons. Specifically, the return of the World-Eater. Yes, that was Alduin Bane-of-Kings according to the Dragonborn. I must ask, do you know of the prophecy of his return?" Revyn got up to fetch another book but from an open shelf on another wall.
"The Book of the Dragonborn by Prior Madrine of the Order of Talos," he said and opened the book to a specific page before handing it to Ulfric. Standing behind the jarl he pointed out lines. "Here, when Balac-thurm, the Staff of Chaos, was split asunder and hidden in far-flung places in Tamriel; here, the Brass Tower of the Dwemer, the Numidium, was rediscovered in Iliac Bay and then the disputed Dragon Break that reshaped the world; here, the fall of the ALMSIVI and Red Mountain, the Red Tower; here, the end of the Septim emperors; and here, the Snow Tower that is Skyrim and here is your part that felled the final pillar of the world."
He withdrew to his chair. "That, at least, is the understanding we came to. Me and my wife's cousins, her father, and a large keg of sujamma. Alduin needed you alive, my Jarl, for the war would send many souls to Sovngarde. Alduin feeds on the souls in Sovngarde. With every full belly he resurrects the dragons loyal to him.
"Doesn't excuse the Dominion of course. They unwittingly play their part. There's a translation of an ancient song my love found at the Bard's College with a line about 'brothers fighting brothers,' which the Dominion encourages for the long game. They'd learned in the Great War that so long as Skyrim worked together with the Empire, like the Brothers of Strife, they couldn't win.
"Of course," he added under his breath so that Ulfric couldn't hear, "with no enemies left to kill, the Brothers start on their own." He raised his voice back to speaking level. "By the time Alduin has exhausted Sovngarde, he'll be powerful enough to plunder the rest of Oblivion and Aetherius for more souls."
"I see nothing in this book that says the World-Eater feasts on souls," said Ulfric.
"Well, if you believe the rumors that I talk to dead spirits, would you believe me if I said my Ancestors in Mooshadow tell me they hear the roar of a dragon in Sovngarde?"
A knock on the door and then supper was brought in. Dana pointedly showed Revyn a stack of requests that needed Ulfric's approval. "I don't think this is the time for that, Dana," he whispered to her.
"Make time," was her acid reply. "You're going to exhaust your purse in Windhelm before the year is out. We need these funds." Revyn winced. She'd said this loud enough for Ulfric to hear.
"And what funds are these, Dana?" asked Ulfric with a tight smile of amusement.
"Funds for vital projects in the Quarter, my Jarl," she said, abandoning Revyn at his desk and walking up to Ulfric. "We're waiting on Jorlief to meet with us to discuss what of our taxes we can expect to get back to support our people in the Gray Quarter. We know priority goes to the stormcloaks, but we can't keep producing on nothing. I've brought in the most urgent requests, the absolute minimum that must be funded. We need your authorization to proceed without all the squabbling we'd get from your other advisors. Sadri and Faro and the few monied families can't keep financing out their own purses."
"Thank you, Dana; you may go now," said Revyn as he hustled her out.
Ulfric laughed as soon as Revyn closed the door behind her. "The brutal tongue of the law," he said. "She seems to have adopted your people."
"The Frostburn clan came from a Nord icemage and Dunmer warrior 800 years ago during the second Akaviri invasion. I don't know if any official records of that time survived but the first Lady Frostburn was of House Morvayn. I plan to take her with me when next I visit Raven Rock and reintroduce her to her ancestral House and distant cousins."
Ulfric laughed again. "Warn Councilor Morvayn then to keep any sharp forks away from her." But he did look over the requests while he ate. He made changes on some of them before signing off.
"Thank you, my Jarl. But, you've increased the amounts," said Revyn, delighted but puzzled.
"Thane Icewind defecting to fight the vampires ruined several plans. I am hereby transferring the reserves meant for those plans to you. You may present your other requests to me instead of Gilder or Jorlief."
"Thank you, my Jarl. I..."
Bears may seem to be slow, lumbering creatures. They stand and roar a lot. But when they finally charge, they move faster than a man or mer can run. And while Revyn was looking over the signed requests in delight, the Bear of Eastmarch suddenly had him crowded against a wall and a bone-crushing grip on his right arm.
"Words said and words unsaid," Ulfric growled. "You Dark Elves are almost as treacherous as the Altmer, but at least you flaunt your nature in your Daedric gods. You don't pretend they're all lightness and good. You don't believe that shit that all Altmer are the only direct descendants of the pure and holy Aetherius spirits trapped by Shor, whom they revile as the mad Lorkhan. Nor do your people believe that only when the rest of life has been subjugated or exterminated can the Altmer return to Aetherius. Your people broke away. Made your own life in the ash and fires of Morrowind. I respect that.
"I'm trying to break away. The Empire is too close to the High Elves. The Elder Council is corrupted. The Thalmor had too long a time to weaken them. Even Felix knows this. He's told me why Mede threw away the victory we paid so dearly for. That my people continue to pay for.
"The long game you think I'm blind to, I can see it now. With that damned Daedric sword I've been seeing a lot of things clearer. When I hold it it's like standing in the tower in the back yard of High Hrothgar. No more clouds and I can see the world. Stand there. It's so cold you'll die if you don't have the fire in your belly. The air so thin that if you can't focus your heartbeat and your breath and your mind, you can choke on your own panic. There's no way my hate can be erased or turned. I own my mistakes. Rebelling against a safe certainty — there will always be costly mistakes made. I grieve for the lives wasted by my mistakes. There's no compensation, no amount of gold can amend. All I can do is to try not to repeat as I continue to forge a new path ahead.
"Will my dying end the Thalmor threat? It will not. There will be temporary peace as stormcloak Holds fall. Tullius will see that Empire again rules. But will he defend us against Thalmor poison? Will he stop the increased atrocities the Thalmor perform in the name of the Concordant? He cannot because his oaths bind him to the Emperor and thus the Concordant.
"Felix himself has told me the bile his wife must choke down when the Thalmor Justiciars demand release of their cat assassins because the cats are citizens of the Dominion. The Thalmor use her to beat down Khajit rebels at the borders as Tullius is used against us. It has come to where the Felixes take the risk of sending Taliesin to talk with the fish elves, who hate the Altmer beyond all reason.
"I hear the whispers in the Gray Quarter. I've heard the revived ballads of Ebonheart and its call for Nord, Dunmer, and Argonian to join against a common foe. Do your own people or the Argonians on the dock even know who the foe truly is? There are no Akaviri snow-demons here.
"Your people hide behind the decree of Refugees' Rest as a reason not to support me. You also rage that the Empire abandoned Morrowind during Oblivion. So here's a history lesson. The Three-Banner War. The Empire is broken. My impression from all I hear is a call to resurrect the Ebonheart Banner. But the Gray Quarter is not Morrowind, the lizards on the docks are not even a full tribe of Black Marsh, and Windhelm is not the entirety of Skyrim.
"Skyrim can't continue to be the Empire's enforcers. They can't keep sending our people to solve the problems of other lands. We can't keep selling our raw resources to outsiders. It's time we make it a priority to care for ourselves before we kill ourselves doing for others. Is that wrong?
"Tell me, n'wah, is it?" N'wah. Outsider. Foreigner. Slave.
Ulfric released him and returned to his chair. He sliced a thick piece of goat leg and bit into it. Once he swallowed he said, "Ebonheart is history. All roads do not lead to Cyrodiil. Give me a Skyrim that has the choice and the means to walk another path. If you want to be part of Skyrim, forge that path with us."
"How do you expect me to do all this?" Revyn asked, rubbing the feeling back into his arm and gathering up the papers now scattered on the floor.
"You have the freedom to surprise me. Find me options without the need for the sword. Councilor Morvayn tells me that's the strength of the Hlaalu, provided one keeps a firm hand on the purse.
"Excellent roast. Tell your chef I want the recipe."
** Earlier timeline mistake (Doomsday) I made. Northwatch came first before the Embassy. (see Skyforge Steel)