The conclusion to Ulfric's story, and we finally find out how Ralof came to be in front of Whiterun's gates.

Embers crackled and smoked, overloud in the shocked silence of Dragonreach's greatroom. Lena and Farkas leaned forward, their eyes wide, waiting for Ralof to continue. But the Stormcloak sat in silence, staring into his tankard.

"How can you stop there?" Lena threw up her hands, glancing around the table to see if everyone else sat on the edge of their seats. They did. "What happened? How did Ulfric get away? And Elenwen, did she really…she was playing Ulfric all that time? What about the head? Elenwen-"

Ralof ignored Lena's spluttering and looked up from his tankard at Balgruuf. He'd taken a risk coming to Whiterun with the head of the Dominion's First Emissary. But Ulfric had believed Balgruuf, above all others, would listen. Would understand. Ralof wasn't convinced. The jarl seemed the very image of a pampered Imperial lickspittle, but Ulfric had been so sure...

Balgruuf leaned back in his chair, one finger tapping against his torc. "We knew Lorcan was crazy, we all did. He sang and…walked around naked during council meetings. What else could he be? That's why his daughter replaced him as First Emissary so early in his term. But we didn't know about…all that. And Elenwen," Balgruuf said, grabbing his goblet, "was she…did she really…?"

Ralof narrowed his eyes and finally glanced around at Lena and Delphine. If they'd read the dossier they'd so casually tossed at Ulfric back at Labyrinthian, they knew. And after Ulfric's message Ralof had delivered at the gate, they had to know how the story would end.

"Was she apologetic? Did she have feelings for Ulfric? Did Ulfric drive her back to dear old dad?" Ralof's head shook in time with his laughter, bitter as he tried to hold back a surge of rage. Ulfric was…gods, and these people still doubted his veracity. "If you're having trouble deciding, try – just try – to imagine how Ulfric felt. He spent years raiding and slaughtering Thalmor. But what if she came down on the wrong side of his steel one random Middas? Would he apologize and fall at her feet, begging forgiveness? Would he run her through? Or both? Had to have driven him mad."

"I can see where it would," Balgruuf conceded. "That is, if he had any sanity remaining after everything they'd already done."

"He didn't want to be played for a fool. And would not admit the possibility. But," Ralof said, "he didn't want to be responsible for someone else's pain, pain he inflicted because he lost control. Nord pride and honor, always." He refilled his tankard from one of the bottles littering the long table. "But no, whatever Elenwen was up to, her real motivations, what was going on in that twisted head? He never knew. Until last month. Until we ran into your Companions at Labyrinthian." He raised his tankard in Kodlak's direction.

"Ran into?" Vilkas scoffed, fighting the urge to rise. "You stalked us, followed us to the back of fucking beyond, and tried to kidnap Lena."

"I don't deny it. We were driven by great need." Ralof readily acknowledged Vilkas's accusation with an incline of his head, and grinned at the Companion's shocked expression. After all he'd done, the incident at Labyrinthian paled in comparison. He might as well come clean. "And though we didn't leave with our prize, we didn't leave empty-handed, did we?"

Ralof started to reach inside his tunic, but held his palms out when Balgruuf's guards surrounded him. "I'm not going for a weapon, boys. I'm reaching for a book. Just a book." At Balgruuf's nod, he pulled a small leather volume from his pocket. "Here's what we took away from that encounter. Days, months, years from now, when we're waking up in a new Skyrim, just remember: it all started with a little, beat-up book."

He slid the notebook across the table and Balgruuf put out a hand, stopping it before it knocked his goblet into his lap. "Read it. Ulfric endured torture of his own body and those of his friends, his family. He sacrificed those same friends and family freeing the Reach. For the good of Skyrim, he believed. And he's killed countless sons of Skyrim during this decades-long war, over... well, just open it," he said, when Balgruuf continued to stare, "and imagine how Ulfric felt upon reading those words."

How can a book change anything? Change my mind about what Ulfric's done? But Balgruuf finally nodded and looked at the cover. His face fell, but he splayed his palm across the volume and stared back at Ralof. "First things first: explain yourself. What's this about kidnapping?"

Ralof coughed, and took a moment for a drink. He had the good grace to look sheepish, stealing a glance down the table toward Lena. "Ulfric knew a dragonborn had been called because of the Greybeards' summons. He set people to watch at Ivarstead, for any unusual traffic up and down the mountain. The second time we saw her and the Companions making the trip, we knew. We traced her steps to Whiterun, just to be sure, and went back to tell Ulfric what we found. When our scouts in Winterhold spotted her at the College, they sent a missive to Ulfric, and we followed their direction. Sure enough, we intercepted them at Labyrinthian."

"So you found them. And…"

"We only wanted to recruit the dragonborn to the Stormcloak cause. It made sense to Ulfric. He could use the Voice, and so could she. They both were nearly killed at Helgen, so he assumed she felt about the Empire the way he did. As you can see, that effort failed."

Balgruuf sighed, and after another baleful glare at Ralof, finally opened the book. His eyes flickered back and forth across the pages, and after a minute or two, he slammed it closed and swiped a hand down his face. All this time…

"Where did he get this? Elenwen's dossier on one of her more useful assets," he said, his mouth twisting around the word, "wouldn't be easy to come by."

Ralof tilted his chin toward Delphine and leaned back in his chair, arms crossed behind his head. "She gave it to him. Humble innkeeper? Mercenary? Errant knight? Oh, no. Did you know, Jarl Balgruuf, that you're in the presence of one of the noble and ancient order of Blades? Grandmaster of the Blades, to be specific? Your dragonborn's been holding out, if your expression's any indication. Don't feel too bad, she's had everyone fooled for a while now."

Balgruuf looked to his left between Lena and Delphine, raising his brows. The twins avoided his eyes, but Kodlak nodded, his fingers steepled under his long beard. So it was true. Wheels turned in his head, but his plans would have to wait. He turned a page and quoted: "'He was made to believe information obtained during his interrogation was crucial in the capture of the Imperial City (the city had in fact fallen before he had broken) and then allowed to escape.'"

He turned another page and stared at Ralof, questions burning in his fierce, blue eyes. "'After the war, contact was established and he has proven his worth as an asset. The so-called Markarth Incident was particularly valuable from the point of view of our strategic goals in Skyrim, although it resulted in Ulfric becoming generally uncooperative to direct contact.'" Balgruuf tapped the page with his fist. "And you say Elenwen found Ulfric just before the Markarth Incident, and encouraged him. Lived with him. So that means-"

"Maybe she orchestrated the Markarth Incident? Right in one," Ralof said, clenching his fists behind his head. Balgruuf seemed to be listening, but Ralof was tired of being pushed to the side. "She encouraged Ulfric to expel the Reachmen. Use Hrolfdir's debt to demand free worship of Talos. So the Empire and the Dominion could go in and smack him right back down. Elenwen knew what would happen."

Ralof slammed his feet back on the ground, his fingers gripping the table. "The Empire came with bells on to persecute Nords whose only crime was to live as they chose. To worship freely as Nords have for generations. For that? Oh, they came running. But did they lift a finger to help the Reach when witches invaded? Occupied one of Skyrim's richest holds for two years? Did they help when – when Ulfric and his men were torn apart back in Bruma? No," Ralof spat. "They sided with those monsters. Hrolfdir too, after he'd pledged his support to Ulfric's cause. How could Ulfric rejoin the Empire's fold, and be a good boy after that? Elenwen knew what it meant for Skyrim. She knew."

Balgruuf turned his eyes back to Delphine. "And you gave this to Ulfric? Why in the gods' names would you think that was a good idea?"

Delphine straightened and glowered at Ralof. "Ulfric threatened Lena. And the rest of us. I had no idea how far he'd go. So I gambled. I thought it might give us an edge, to be honest. Thought maybe once he knew what the Dominion had done, that he was playing right into their hands, he'd-"

"He'd what? Give up the rebellion? Say sorry?" Balgruuf barked out a cold and angry laugh, and Lena leaned a little closer to Farkas as he continued. "You provided evidence his entire life was a lie. That he was nothing more than a - a tool for the Dominion to use and throw away. That he'd been a fool. Did you think he'd be grateful for that knowledge? That Elenwen had duped him into endangering thousands of people he'd sworn to protect? That he'd instigated a rebellion that pitted generations of Nords against Nords, all at a flick of her golden fingers?"

"If I'd known about Elenwen, how personal she'd made it," Delphine conceded, her head bowed, "I might have done things differently. But he did threaten to take Lena by force. It was-"

"I know. A difficult situation. But you don't know Ulfric like I do," Balgruuf said, pushing back from the table to pace in front of the firepit. "We didn't meet until the war, but brothers in arms grow close in no time at all. He was in my unit for awhile. I remember once – we had to be no more than eighteen – he hesitated during a mission and cost the unit one life. Just one. No one blamed him, it was an easy mistake to make, easy to forgive. But not for Ulfric."

For weeks afterward, Ulfric had awakened long before dawn to train and study, provoking the largest and fiercest to fight him. It was the only way he'd improve, he'd insisted. The only way he'd be worthy. The only way he'd be able to protect those under his command. Balgruuf shivered at the memory of Ulfric's wounds, his blood mixing with mud and pouring rain night after night.

"Yet you blamed him easily enough for the sack of the Imperial City." Ralof shook his head and glowered up at the jarl.

"We were told it was true," Balgruuf said, and shrugged, although his expression belied the casual gesture. "Lorcan…knowing what I know now, it's obvious... But he swore Ulfric volunteered the information to save himself, not others. The details and specifics were convincing. And Hrolfdir corroborated. Said Ulfric told him in confidence."

"But even so," Ralof countered, "even if he'd done exactly that, how do you know you wouldn't have broken to save yourself? I told you what they did to him. I don't know any Soldiers who would have lasted so long. Myself included, if I'm being honest."

Lena cleared her throat. She didn't want to defend Ulfric after what he'd tried with her. She didn't like how he treated citizens of Skyrim who didn't happen to be Nords. And if his mismanagement of Windhelm was any indication, Ulfric had been an incompetent jarl and would have made a dismal king. But he deserved to have his name back. "Ulfric trained for years with the Greybeards. It takes great strength and will to channel the Voice if you're not dragonborn, from what the monks told me. I'm willing to bet no one, no matter how brave or loyal, could have withstood as long as he did," she said, her cheeks pink and her eyes downcast. "I know I didn't."

Farkas grunted and scooted closer to Lena, wrapping his arm around her and whispering in her ear. Ralof had no idea what that was all about, but if the dragonborn, the celebrated Dovahkiin, understood what Ulfric had gone through, chances were looking up that Balgruuf and eventually the other jarls would listen. And act.

Balgruuf stared into his goblet, for a minute or two. The fire crackled, again, loud in the heavy silence. He finally nodded and looked up at no one in particular. "I suppose...I was young, and convinced of my own immortality. And strength. Was I not a true Nord? Couldn't the strength of true Nords outlast any torment? And if so, why couldn't Ulfric? We all just…stopped thinking about it. It became law. Doctrine. Ulfric was a coward, a weakling, a traitor."

Idly stirring the embers with an iron poker, he continued thinking aloud, a sad smile ghosting across his face. "He was brought up on the same stories and legends, you know. Drank songs of Nord pride and honor like mother's milk. After all he'd been through, Ulfric couldn't have returned home. The Empire might have accepted him, but he'd begged enough. Cried enough. He couldn't go back to those who'd sided with the Dominion. And yet, he'd assaulted a woman he had feelings for, no matter the circumstances. He couldn't just go home to his palace and pretend nothing had happened. He'd promised Nords – Skyrim – freedom from Dominion control. A king who cared for his people more than he cared for power. Freedom to worship as they chose. An honorable man wouldn't – couldn't – go back on those promises."

Ralof sat back in his chair again, stunned. Damned if Ulfric hadn't been right about Balgruuf. For all his allegiance to the Empire, he did seem to understand at least a little of what Ulfric had been through. The reasons he'd rebelled – good and bad. But would Balgruuf act? Or would he, as he had at the end of the Great War, take the path of least resistance? Soon, he'd have to make a choice – everyone would. Ulfric had made sure of that.

"You're right," Balgruuf said, pointing at Ralof, "Elenwen knew what would happen. Ulfric didn't care if he was branded a rebel and a traitor. At that point, what did it matter? If he was a monster, so be it. He'd be the monster who freed his country, and that was enough for him. Skyrim's Civil War's been brewing for generations. Fallout from Markarth just made it an inevitability."

He walked back over to the table and flattened his palms on the surface. "Tell me what happened with Elenwen. I need to know everything. Every detail, no matter how…incriminating."

"After Labyrinthian, Ulfric didn't speak the whole way back to Windhelm," Ralof said, glancing up and down the table. All eyes were on him. Even the jarl's guards were listening. "Instead of regrouping and planning our next move, he locked himself in the temple for a week. When he came out, starving and red-eyed, he told me the story I just told you. And showed me that book."

"We left Windhelm and traveled across the Pale, Haafingar, and Hjallmarch, collecting every Stormcloak we could find along the way. Once we got close to the Thalmor Embassy, we cut around to the west. Ulfric knew a secret entrance through some cave. I don't know how he knew. He never said. Dead dark of night, scouts went in through the cave. The main cohort hid in the woods, waiting on Ulfric's signal," Ralof said, staring at the jarl's hands on the table. The rest of his story would be difficult enough to get through, and he wasn't sure he could look at anyone without breaking down.

"Once the justiciars and their guards were engaged, it was a slaughter. We did the one thing they never expected. How could they? Who had the balls or the means for a direct attack? Elenwen surely told everyone Ulfric was no real threat. And he wasn't – he had, what did she write? 'Furthered our strategic goals in Skyrim,' so they were content to ignore him, for the most part. He wasn't on their field of vision any longer."

Lena watched Ralof take a drink. She'd never been to the embassy and hadn't heard any stories about it. But it had to be guarded to the teeth. The loss of life must have been enormous, she thought. Although she couldn't bring herself to feel sad for Elenwen or the rest of the Dominion. If they'd only stayed out of Skyrim, they might still be alive.

Ralof heard a low chuff from Lena's end of the table and looked up, not surprised to see her lips curved in a small, cruel, and motivating smile. He remembered the day they'd first met, the three of them sitting in the executioner's cart, just waiting for the end. In his wildest dreams, he'd never imagined a day like this: lowly prisoners sharing mead in the house of a jarl, on the eve of the turning of their world. He took another drink and pressed on.

"The main cohort barricaded the front door of Elenwen's residence, and the secret entrance from the cave led to her rooms, through her own, private torture chamber, of course. Her 'solar,' she called it. Did you know the woman terrorizing Skyrim – keeping us all under the Dominion's thumb – has a torture chamber under her bedroom?" His voice dripped bitterness, and as he glanced up at Balgruuf, the jarl stared into the firepit, his eyes shadowed and shuttered. "Some things never change, I guess."

"Well, we surprised her in her solar, me and Ulfric and a few others. Once we had her down and she knew her number was up, she sang like a bird, I can only guess as a last-ditch pass. Maybe if Ulfric got mad enough, he'd be easily distracted. So, yeah, she'd tortured him willingly, fooled him into thinking she was a victim the whole time. Tried to seduce him, knowing…" Ralof swore, and swallowed his rage yet again. "The letter accusing Madanach of killing Nords in Markarth? The pitiful death threat and poison plants? Sent on her orders. That woman did everything she could to break Ulfric – physically, mentally, spiritually – in the slowest play I've ever seen. Then again, Altmer live long lives. She might well have been playing a game of chess."

"Anyway, once Ulfric heard it from her mouth, saw the ridicule in her eyes, he sort of…broke again. I could see it in his face. She did too. She hit him with lightning, but his Shout was quicker this time, and his sword followed just as quickly. And you saw the result," Ralof said, tilting his head back toward the entrance to the dungeon, where Elenwen's head slowly rotted in a bed of straw at the back of a dark cell.

Before continuing, Ralof heaved a deep, ragged sigh and pressed his fingers into tearing eyes. "He passed me that…that thing. And told me to get the troops out, as many as I could, send them home. He said to come here, he knew it was a risk for me, but…for Skyrim, it was a risk I needed to take. To come here and bring that. And tell you this: 'remember what we argued about during the war. I was right, and it's time to put it to the test. And you were right, the gods can take care of themselves.' He made me repeat it over and over. He said you'd know what he meant."

Balgruuf hung his head, staring at the table he still leaned against. He'd been using his pose to tower over Ralof, to control the conversation. To intimidate. But now, he wasn't sure he could stand without it. "Why didn't he leave with you?"

Once Balgruuf spoke the words, everyone froze. Even the fire seemed to still, its embers darkening and smoke dissipating through the heavy air. Everyone had known Ulfric was more than likely dead. Under the cloud of Ralof's arrival, how could the story have ended another way? Even so, it hadn't seemed real, until now.

In the silence, Lena imagined she could hear Thalmor lightning, and hear their haughty voices ringing with laughter. Soon, they'd come seeking revenge, seeking a way to recover their power, their footing in a province they intended to rule. And they'd not take defeat lightly. Did Ulfric know this? Had he forced their hands? And why had Ralof asked for her at the gate, and only her? Well, the Stormcloak would be in town for the duration of whatever washed up in the wake of Ulfric's last stand, so she'd ask him. Eventually.

"He was never coming home. I should have known. Looking in his eyes, I should have…you said it yourself. His life was a lie. How many people died because of his actions? And not foreigners, far away in the Imperial City, after all, but in the Reach, Eastmarch…his own people. I should have known," Ralof whispered, tears streaming down his face. He swiped at them with his cowl, smearing more soot and dirt on his cheeks and forehead.

"While we'd cornered Elenwen, our troops were fighting outside, setting fire to anything could burn. We heard screams and ran out. The main building was a shambles, just a sheet of flame, and her roof – her quarters didn't have long. I turned and started to run, but Ulfric wasn't beside me. Wasn't there. I saw him through the smoke, still on the stairs. He saluted, and just sort of ambled back inside. I tried to run in after him. I tried!"

Ulfric's lieutenant screamed and hid his face in his hands, his body racked with sobs. No one looked away or dismissed Ralof as a weakling. Nords prided themselves on their stoic natures by day. Wounds healed and hunger would eventually abate – no whining allowed.

But when the darkness of grief and heartache fell upon them, their mourning flowed like a bard's song, or a cleansing storm. "Gods, I tried. But he Shouted me down. Out in the snow. I could barely see his silhouette in the entryway. The fire…everything collapsed, and he was gone. Just…gone."

Slowly, Balgruuf stepped on to the platform leading to his throne, and sat heavily down in the ornately-carved chair, his hand curved over his mouth. His back rose and fell in deep, calming breaths. Ralof was right – the sun wouldn't rise over the same Skyrim tomorrow morning. And it shouldn't. Irileth had picked quite a time to visit family down in Falkreath. He'd have to call her back, and soon.

"Proventus," he said at last, calling his steward from where he sat near the foot of the table, "engage eight couriers. The fastest you can find, get them here soonest. Pay whatever you have to."

Proventus nodded and stood, anxious to complete his task, but paused as the jarl held out his hand.

"Wait," Balgruuf reconsidered, swallowing and taking one last heaving breath. "If we're going to do this, we're doing it right. Ten…no, eleven couriers." He nodded to Proventus, who fairly skipped from the room, and then turned to Kodlak. "And I'm going to need to borrow your Companions."

Elenwen's joining Ulfric and plotting the Markarth Incident was inspired by a redditor called docclox. He or she wrote an amazing entry for teslore about Ulfric's "fatal flaw" called "The Pride of Ulfric Stormcloak," and if you haven't read it yet, you should. It's fantastic. I read (maybe too much) about Ulfric prior to writing this and my other Ulfric-centric story just to imagine what made him tick, and the idea that Elenwen herself follows him and continues breaking him long after he thought he was as broken as he could be is intriguing. And honestly, extremely likely, especially for someone long-lived, and ambitious, and up-and-coming. I mean, she didn't get to be First Emissary by sitting on her fourth point of contact, right?

Of course, I took some liberties with lore and characters, but I hope it's a satisfying setup to the next phase of the story. And yes, for those of you who've been disappointed that it's veered away from Lena and Farkas, the story will be getting back to normal next chapter. I know it was a risk doing this, but the Civil War had to come into play at some point, and I didn't like either side in the game. I didn't like Season Unending, either, but I guess that's what fanfic's for!