Chapter One

Falk Fire-Beard

"We've received out latest reports from the Legates in the field, Jarl Elisif," Rikke reported to the Jarl. Falk Fire-Beard liked the older Nord. She was respectful but honest in her discussions with Elisif, which was most likely why Tullius had assigned her as the liaison for the Legion. "The only report of note came from the Pale. A large force of our troops encountered an equal sized force of Stormcloaks at the White River, and battle was commenced."

"And what made this particular battle so interesting, legate?" Erikur drawled, clearly bored. Falk refrained from snapping at the Thane to show some respect, knowing it would never happen.

"The Dragonborn intervened in this one, Thane Erikur," Rikke said slowly, as if talking to a child. He hid a grin under his fist as Erikur's face turned red.

"The Dragonborn?" Elisif asked in surprise, "why?"

"Legate Tituleius reports, and I quote, 'the Dragonborn was fed up with us killing each other, so he summoned a storm that forced our two forces to separate before clearing it and ordering us to return to our camps.'"

"And both sides obeyed?" Elisif was intrigued now, and Falk couldn't blame her. He was trying to reconcile that description of the young boy that had grown up in Solitude.

"Not at first," Rikke admitted, "but I was at our camp in the Pale when the battle occurred, and I heard the shouts that followed. It was… unsettling, to say the least. It was almost as if he was standing a few paces from me. Legate Tituleius was prepared to continue the battle, if necessary, but the Stormcloak commander honoured the Dragonborn's words and withdrew his forces from the field of battle. The legate did so as well shortly after. I was only at the camp for a few more days, but there was no reengagement before I departed."

"What did he get out of stopping this battle?" Bryling mused.

"I did not get anything out of it," a new voice cut in, a voice that when Falk had last heard it had been in the early stages of manhood, just barely beginning to crack. "Except for the fact that no more lives were tossed away without cause. That was good enough for me, Thegn Bryling."

All eyes snapped towards the newcomer, some recognising him, others knowing him only by reputation. Falk and Elisif belonged to the former, while both Erikur and Bryling belonged to the latter group. Despite being thanes in solitude for close to a decade each, Karsten's time was before them still by four years.

"The Dragonborn, I presume?" Bryling asked. Karsten shrugged at her.

"Some call me that," he answered, "but my name is Karsten, so that is what I answer to."

Falk took the opportunity to examine the Nord standing before them. Karsten had been a boy of twelve winters when he was taken to his father's estate in Eastmarch, and another fourteen had passed since then. He was no longer short and skinny but had grown into the frame of a powerful warrior, towering over the guards, and even topping Bolgeir, if just barely. His hair was long, thick and dark, braided in cords and tied up at the back, sideburns leading into a neatly trimmed beard. His armour was simple, a brigandine vest and gorget over a brown woollen tunic, and thick breeches tucked into a pair of leather boots. A sword hung on his left hip, an axe on his right, and a strap held a shield to his back, while another let his nasal helmet hang at his side. Thick, powerful arms were folded over his chest. He was covered in soot, dirt, and what looked to be dried blood.

"And what brings the 'great' Dragonborn to our fair city?" Erikur asked, not even bothering to hide his mocking tone.

"There was a dragon nesting to the south, just west of Dragon Bridge," Karsten explained. "It is dead now. I assumed that might be of some interest to the Jarl and her Steward, not to mouthy thegns who look as if they don't know which end of a sword to hold."

Erikur's face was a violent red now, but before anything else could be said, or any fights started, Elisif spoke up.

"It is good to see you again, Karsten," she said, "but if you continue to insult my thanes, I will have to ask you to leave."

Karsten's eyes flickered to Elisif, and Falk noticed the flare of interest in them. That wasn't particularly surprising—the last time either of them had seen each other, they had been children. Now, they very much were not.

"Forgive me, my jarl," he bowed his head. "I am tired from my journey, and it has affected my manners."

"It is not her he needs to apologise to," Erikur mumbled, but only Falk and Bryling heard him. Neither would say anything. Neither agreed with him.

"Have you been on the road for long, old friend?" Elisif smiled warmly at him.

"Since the Third of First Seed, after I ended the battle between the Legion and Stormcloaks," Karsten replied, gracing her with a smile of his own. "I have been tracking several dragons and a cult."

"A cult?" Elisif asked, "are they in Haafingar?"

"I do not believe so," Karsten replied, "or rather, they are not based here. They hunted me down and tried to kill me, but I believe they came from Solstheim."

"If I may, my Jarl," Falk stepped forward, "we could prepare a room for Karsten, and have him join us for the evening meal, where he might answer any questions you have? If it is agreeable to you, Karsten?"

The tall warrior shrugged, weapons and armour rattling with the movement.

"I was planning on sleeping in the inn," he said, "a bed in a palace sounds much more enjoyable."

"I will have a room set up for you," Falk said.

"General Tullius will wish to speak with you, Dragonborn," Rikke spoke up. Karsten didn't look pleased by the notion.

"If the general wants words, he can give them himself, legate," Karsten bit out, and Falk was taken aback by the change in his tone. "He owes me that courtesy at least. He did try to take my head."

"What?" Elisif hissed, causing Falk to grimace. She and Torryg had always had a soft spot for Karsten and learning that Tullius tried to have him killed would cause more problems than naught.

"I'm sure it was a misunderstanding," Rikke tried, but Karsten barked out a deep laugh.

"If you wish to believe that you are more than welcome to," Karsten chuckled, "but let us not play games, Legate Rikke. I will speak with your general, but I will do it on my time."

"I will… let him know," Rikke sighed. Karsten grinned at her. That part of him hadn't changed, at least.

"I have some business to complete in town," Karsten declared, "it was an honour to see you again, Jarl Elisif. I look forward to speaking with you again."

"And I you, Karsten Iron-Sides," Elisif tilted her head.

And then Karsten was gone, striding out of the palace while whistling an old soldier's song, one that Falk hadn't heard in many years.

"I must report to General Tullius," Rikke said. "Forgive me, my Jarl."

"Go on then," Elisif waved her hand, "court is dismissed for the day. Return to your homes."

Falk went to counsel her, but she quickly shot him a look that warned him against it. While he usually would have done so anyway, there was something about the gleam in her eye that told him he would regret it. He held a groan in. Karsten was barely back a half hour and already he was inspiring Elisif to rebellion.

"Remain a moment, Falk," Elisif said, "I wish to speak."

"I serve at your command, my Jarl," he answered, and waited for the others to leave.

"Karsten is much changed," she noted idly, "but then again, we were children last we saw each other. Time has changed us all. Torryg would have liked the new Karsten."

"I believe so too," Falk said softly. Torryg had been like a younger brother to him, and his death stung as deeply as any wound. "He would have made him a housecarl in a flash if he saw him right now."

"It is not a bad idea," Elisif mused. "Did you notice he kept using the word thegn, instead of thane?"

"It is Old Nordic," Falk said, "often used by the more traditional clans and holds. I hear it is growing in popularity in the holds of the Stormcloaks in particular, and that each village has elected a thegn to lead their soldiers in battle."

"Do you think he supports Ulfric, then?" Her voice was quiet, and it was not difficult to imagine why the thought might upset her. The idea upset him as well. But he did not believe it held any merit.

"I do not," he said firmly, "otherwise he would not have come her as a friend. He is Dragonborn, remember? He could Shout down our gates if he wished."

"Then it is a good thing he is here," Elisif decided, "perhaps he wishes to help us?"

"I would not count on it," Falk admitted, "there is an old term for men like him—drengr, a courageous warrior. They live for fighting, but only for those who are worthy of it. You heard him say it yourself, Tullius ordered him beheaded, though we not for what reason. He will not fight for the Imperials."

The conversation created a wriggling feeling in his brain, however. It was true, Karsten would not fight for the Imperials, but perhaps… perhaps Falk could convince him to fight for Elisif. The Jarl was lacking in talented warriors who served her alone. Bolgeir was one, but he was her bodyguard. Karsten, on the other hand, seemed like he would make a good general.

"Falk!" Elisif said loudly, and he blinked, turning to face her. "You were lost in thought. I said your name three times with no response. This only happens when you are thinking of a plan."

"Forgive me, my Jarl," he immediately apologised. "I am thinking of something, but I would not trouble you with it for now."

Elisif frowned but didn't push him. Instead, she changed the subject back to Karsten.

"He has grown, too," she noted, "I did not think he would become so… large. He looks like a bear."

"A wolf would be more realistic," Falk countered, "he has the look in his eyes of a hunter, and he almost prowled out of the throne room."

"That would be most fitting for him, wouldn't it?" Elisif smiled, "the Wolf of Solitude."

Falk grinned. It did suit him.

XXX

Falk had ordered two guards to follow Karsten once he got the chance, and when they reported to him at the end of the day, he almost laughed at the tale. He had barely been back a day and he was already endearing himself to the people of Solitude. Little Svari had found herself fascinated by the warrior who returned her uncle's amulet to her mother, and the guards reported that once he had gotten Greta's permission, he had taken to carrying the little girl on his shoulders, letting her point out places of interest in the city.

He also convinced Captain Aldis to let Angeline know the fate of her daughter, something that saddened Falk immensely. Then, he was dragged into Radiant Raiment and emerged with new clothes bundled in his arms, and then promptly resolved two men's debt issues. Falk wasn't sure how he did it, but he wasn't going to question it either.

There was a knock at his door, and when he answered, it was Erdi, one of the maids.

"The dinner is ready, my lord," she stated, "and that handsome young man is back. He is waiting for you and the Jarl."

"Then I'd best not keep him waiting," Falk said, closing the door behind him and locking it. When he emerged in the dining hall, Karsten was indeed waiting for him, and he had a bottle tucked under his arm. "What's this?"

"I was told that you had ordered some Stros M'Kai Rum," Karsten chuckled, "so I offered to bring it to you. I'll be honest, Fire-Beard, I never saw you as the rum type."

"This war has made a drinker of me," Falk sighed, "I am surprised it has not done the same of you, Dragonborn."

"I prefer not to drink," he said quietly. "My step-mother was fond of mead, and not of me. Those two factors did not mix well. I'd rather not talk of it, however."

"Then you need not do it, my friend," Elisif's smooth voice interrupted them as she swept into the dining hall. "Though I do have some questions for you, if you are willing to answer."

"You have taken me into your home, Jarl Elisif," Karsten answered, "you may ask of me what you wish."

They took their seats and a large roasted leg of goat was brought out.

"How is your father?" Falk asked, "we have heard nothing of him since the war broke out. Is he… supporting Ulfric?"

"No," Karsten said, a pained expression crossing his face, "he is dead. Killed by supporters of Ulfric, in fact."

"He was a thane!" Elisif exclaimed. "How could Ulfric order that?"

"He didn't, not truly," he said. "But my father refused to betray the Empire. He told Ulfric he would not commit any of our men to his cause. The Bear of Markarth didn't take too kindly to that. Only a few weeks later, a mob of armed men stormed our estate. They killed my father, his wife, and my half-brother. They almost killed me. Last I heard, one of Ulfric's landless retainers was given the estate as a reward for 'loyal service.'"

"How did you escape?"

"They left me in the snow to die," Karsten admitted, "and I think that is the only reason I didn't. We had been trading with the Orc Stronghold to the south-east of Windhelm, and when they saw the smoke from my home burning, they sent scouts to investigate. They brought me back and healed me."

"And how did you end up captured by Tullius?" Falk asked next.

"I was tracking Ulfric and his war-party," Karsten said, "I meant to challenge him to a duel to avenge my family. The Imperials didn't care why I was there, I was a Nord, I was armed, so I was a Stormcloak. They knocked me out, stripped me of my weapons and armour, and bound my hands, before sending me to be killed. Do you understand why I will not fight for either side now?"

Truthfully, Falk did understand, but he could not admit as such.

"How did this whole 'Dragonborn' business start then?" Elisif was leaning forward in her seat, food forgotten.

Karsten's eyes closed, and he took several deep breaths.

"That is another long story," he said, "but put shortly, after I escaped Helgen, I went to Whiterun to warn Jarl Balgruuf of the dragon, at the request of the locals in Riverwood. I ended up doing some favours for him, which culminated with a dragon attack just outside the city. It almost killed me, but afterwards, the body of the dragon began burning up, and I absorbed its soul. I was summoned to High Hrothgar immediately after."

"Yes, I remember hearing the Greybeards," Falk noted, "it was a great surprise to me."

"It was very exciting, too!" Elisif added, "the people were alight with gossip. I almost didn't believe the rumour that it was you until Balgruuf announced you as his thane to all the other holds."

"A clever move on his part," Falk said. Karsten chuckled.

"Who do you think advised him to do it?" He asked with a wry grin, "it was a deterrent to stop either side from trying to occupy the hold. I'll fight to defend Whiterun."

"Could you?" Falk challenged, "against the Stormcloaks or the Imperials?"

"Some of them, yes," Karsten answered honestly, "there is one way into the city that I know about, and it is protected by a drawbridge. Feasibly, I could hold it for as long as I pleased. Add to that the fact that the Whiterun city guard is one of the strongest and best trained in Skyrim, well, the city could hold out against any assault. A siege, on the other hand… well, that wouldn't end well for the besieger either."

"Enough of war!" Elisif snapped, "I have had enough of it already. Let us talk of more pleasant things."

"As you wish, my Jarl."

"And for the gods' sake, call me Elisif, like you used to!"

Falk flinched. The jarl was never so inflamed.

"Apologies, Jarl Elisif, but I cannot do that," Karsten apologised. "I still cherish our friendship deeply, and I still consider you a dear friend, but our stations are vastly different. Some things must be respected."

"Am I?" She countered, "Torryg was a 'dear' friend of yours too, if I recall, but you have not said a word about him yet!"

Karsten was silent, staring at the table, and he saw the heat leave Elisif's face. She looked like she was about to speak.

"When I heard what Ulfric had done, I went to go kill him myself, and that was before he had my family killed. My father had his huscarls prevent my escape, and when I tried to fight back, they beat me down. I was locked in the basement of my home so that I could not do anything stupid. That is where I was when Ulfric's men came." Karsten's voice was quiet. "I did not speak of Torryg because it pains me to. I did not have the relationship with him that you did, but we grew up together. He was my king, and he was going to be a great one. I imagine it is more painful for you than for me, so I did not want to sour the mood. It appears I have done so regardless. Forgive me, Jarl Elisif."

Karsten rose and quickly escaped the room. Elisif watched him go, before letting out a cry of anger. Falk watched silently. He wanted to stay and help Elisif, but he also wanted to follow Karsten, to make sure he did not do anything stupid. His Jarl made the decision for him.

"Go after him," she waved, "ensure he does as little damage as possible, Falk, and perhaps, you can fix this mess that I have made once more."

"My jarl," he bowed his head and quickly left. When he reached the front door, two guards were standing there sheepishly.

"Lord Steward," the first one stated, "The Dragonborn has left. He, uhm, he snagged a bottle of mead from us as he went."

"I will deal with you two later," he said, "come find me tomorrow morning, if I am available."

He did not have to go far to find Karsten. It seemed Tullius had become impatient and had sent a patrol of men to find him, led by Legate Rikke.

"Please, Dragonborn, just come with us," the legate was pleading. Karsten's hand had dropped to the head of his axe, and his fingers were twitching slightly.

"I have told you that I will see Tullius on my own time," he spat, before looking at the soldiers, "unless you think these are all the men you need to take me?"

"There are ten men with me!" Rikke exclaimed.

"I know," Karsten said, "you should have brought more."

"Enough, Karsten!" Falk barked, and to his surprise, he straightened up, hand leaving his axe-head. "Rikke, leave, now. Take your soldiers back to Castle Dour and inform the General that he commands the soldiers in Skyrim, not its people. If he has an issue, he may take it up with me later."

Rikke paused, clearly struggling with her decision, but left without further incident.

"I can fight my own battles, Fire-Beard," Karsten said to him.

"That is what I was concerned about, Karsten," Falk replied, "I am certain you can fight your own battles, but the legion is not an enemy to be made lightly, especially not in this city."

"Who would stop me, Falk? The older guards who drink on shift?" He asked, waving the mead bottle in his hand, "or the boys who have been drafted to keep up numbers? You don't have a city guard; you have a mob."

"I am aware," Falk snapped back, "but Elisif wants this war over, and to ensure that, she has given the general permission to take the veterans from our guards. They fight in the legion now. This war is ruining us, Karsten!"

"If this is where you ask me to fight for Elisif, I cannot," Karsten said. "I have a much more important war to fight, Fire-Beard, and it is one that may kill me. This war will only get in the way of that."

"Then why would you come here, Karsten? The death of a dragon could not be the only reason?"

"I have missed Solitude," his voice was deceptively soft, "I missed Elisif, and I missed you. You were like an uncle; you raised me alongside Torryg, and I loved you for it. But I am a man now, and I must do some things for myself. Give Jarl Elisif my apologies. Perhaps when I have dealt with the Dragons, I will return here."

"Tullius will not let you leave," Falk sighed, "you know that."

"I know. I plan on having some words with him before I go," Karsten replied. "I will make my position clear to him."

"Just… don't kill anyone," Falk said. Karsten grinned at him.

"I would never." He said, before turning and marching towards Castle Dour.

Falk didn't fail to notice that the gate was lowered. Karsten wouldn't have failed to notice it either. What was he—

"Fus Ro Dah!" A wave of blue energy burst from his mouth and slammed into the portcullis, shattering the wooden beams on it. Falk swore under his breath but couldn't hide the small grin that graced his features.

Karsten always liked making a statement. That hadn't changed, at least.

MMXXI

Round three baby. I've already posted and deleted this story twice, and once was only on AO3, but I desperately need a break from writing PJO, and I like this story a lot, so we're giving it another whirl. I've done some minor editing for this chapter and the prologue, and I'll edit the other chapters as I go along. In total, there's ten chapters written already. I'm going to post this chapter and the prologue together, and then it'll be a new chapter once per week, so that way I have time to write the future chapters without worrying about taking too long to get them out. The chapters now are relatively short, as most of my earlier works are, but as we get further along, they'll likely get longer as well.

Now, this story is Skyrim, obviously, but I take a lot of liberty with characters and the setting. Skyrim, now more than ever, is going to be heavily influenced by Early Medieval/Middle Ages Scandinavia, so we'll see a lot of terms like 'thegn' instead of 'Thane' and other Norse words. I do have explanations for it all, and they'll be used both explicitly and contextually, so no need to worry about that. There's also the size/population factor of Skyrim and Tamriel as a whole. There are a lot of different theories for how big Skyrim is, but I use a post on Reddit that did some math using Elder Scroll Arena's manual stating Tamriel is 12 million square miles and sized Skyrim at roughly 1.5 Million square miles, or around the size of Mongolia. As for population, I don't have any particular number in mind, so we'll just wing it as the plot demands, lol.

I know quite a few of you are probably going to be disappointed that this isn't any of the stories I've said I'm working on, but I really, really need to take a step away from PJO/HoO. I've been writing stories for the fandom since like, 2016. I need some variety in my life, so please forgive me for that.

As always, leave a review or send me a PM letting me know what you think.

Cheers, CombatTombat