Ulfric had never written so many letters in his life.

Galmar had all but bitten his head off in his latest response, assuring (threatening) Ulfric that if Ice-Veins ever decided to turn up in Falkreath, he would be notified immediately. Next Ulfric had tried to contact her housecarl in Whiterun, who had been equally unhelpful.

Jarl Ulfric,

The last I heard from my thane, she was in your service, sacking my city. If you have misplaced her, that is simply not my problem. I spend my days now helping my people rebuild the devastation your soldiers have caused.

-Lydia, Housecarl of Breezehome

Just as insolent as the thane she served, apparently. Ulfric had torn the letter to shreds immediately after reading it.

For a while after there were no more letters. Ulfric had run out of leads and rocks to check under. It seemed as though Svala had completely disappeared and would only return when she wanted to. Meanwhile, the parade of whores outside Ulfric's chamber nightly continued, to the point where Wuunferth had snidely asked his Jarl if he needed any stamina or disease curing potions. Jorlief at least feigned ignorance, though Ulfric knew the man well enough to know he was concerned about this new pattern of behavior.

Then he heard about the dragon.

Ulfric had taken to drinking nightly in Candlehearth (disguised of course) in case Svala returned to her room there. Elda had left it unoccupied for her (he was to understand through crosstalk that she had left the innkeep a sizable amount of gold to do so) and the mead helped Ulfric find some sort of peace when sex could not. It was one of those occasions when he had heard some travelers from the Rift raving about how a dragon had been spotted near Riften, only when the guard assembled to fight it, it disappeared. "They found the bones in a field, completely deserted!" One of the travelers exclaimed. "Someone must have brought it down singlehandedly, but who could do such a thing?"

Ulfric's head had shot up. He knew exactly who could.

The next morn, he sent for Ralof to meet with him in the Palace of the Kings. Ralof was a good soldier, and more importantly, he had been with both Ulfric and Svala in Helgen. He would know better than anyone who she was and what she was capable of. Ralof could bring her back to him.

"Ralof," Ulfric said as the blonde Nord appeared before him. "Do you remember our...detour, in Helgen?"

Ralof nodded with a chuckle. "Of course, my Jarl. Pretty hard to forget seeing a big black dragon."

"It's not the dragon I'm interested in," Ulfric dismissed the notion with a wave of his large hand. "Do you remember the woman who was in the carriage with us? Red hair? Scarred face?"

Ralof's eyes widened with recognition. "Aye! Svala! We escaped together after we were separated, my Jarl. I took her to Riverwood to meet my sister. I even told her to come here to join our cause!"

Ulfric paused at that, scratching his chin, deep in thought. Had that been why she had been so eager to join him? Some sort of...companionship between her and Ralof? Were they lovers? His stomach dropped at the thought. "Yes, well, it seems she took your advice. She is now known as Ice-Veins, and is, at the moment, missing."

"Missing?" Ralof's face scrunched in confusion. "Is she in danger? I can't imagine Svala not being able to take care of herself, not from what I've seen her do, so I wouldn't worry my-"

"I'm not worried," Ulfric snapped. He wasn't. She was fine. She was just toying with him...wasn't she? "I just need to know that she has not fallen into enemy hands. I want you to find her, bring her back to report to me directly. Tell no one else of this, and if you do well, I will name you captain."

The Nord's eyes lit up at the mention of a promotion. If Ulfric had any doubts about Ralof following orders, they evaporated at the sight. "Yes, my Jarl!"

"Talos guide you," Ulfric dismissed him, trying to keep the gnawing jealousy at bay. No matter how hard he tried, he could not erase the image of Ralof and Svala, together, from his mind.

————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————

Svala was being followed.

She fumed, silently, while watching her tail from the corner of her eye. She had been so careful! She had left Brynjolf while he slept, leaving a note by his side and then sneaking to the Riften stables to steal a horse. She had even managed to swipe a set of elven armor, ditching her old armor in a pond, to avoid Thalmor detection. She had (albeit stupidly) assumed that if she dressed like an elf that she would be camouflaged, and had carried this false hope all the way to Falkreath. The trip took her twice as long as usual since she had to avoid all the main roads and travel the woods.

And yet they had still managed to find her.

Trearil would never let her go, she realized that now. Her fingertips traced the scar on her face as she bitterly choked down the rest of her mead. He was the only one who had always managed to be one step ahead of her, and it now, it seemed, her luck had run out. The only thing that gave her some small comfort was that Brynjolf was no where near her and would be spared.

She just wished she could see him one last time to apologize.

Standing and wiping her mouth on the back of her hand, Svala strode towards the door of the Dead Man's Drink. If she was going out, she wasn't going without a fight. If they tried to take her inside Falkreath hold, there was a chance the guard would take notice before the Thalmor succeeded. She waited on the cobblestone road outside the tavern as the man following her slipped out as well, several paces behind. Pretending to be drunk (well, drunker than she actually was), she stumbled forward into a crouch. Her shadow, taking his advantage, crept up behind her. Quick as a flash, Svala spun around and held her dagger, stained dark with dragon blood, against his throat. "Who else is with you? Tell them to come out or lose your head." She growled menacingly.

The man's face shown white in the moonlight, his cowl falling askew. "Svala, don't, it's me-"

"Ralof?" She gasped, releasing him from her hold. He crumpled to a heap in the dirt, breathing heavily. "What are you doing?!"

"Jarl Ulfric's orders," The blonde man grinned, standing up and brushing himself off. "It's good to see you again, Svala! I didn't know you joined the Stormcloaks! I thought sure I would've seen you out there by now."

Svala scowled. Of course Ulfric would send someone after her, that impatient ass. All his talk of "trust" and "good feelings" and he was sending spies after her. As if she would desert! She had taken Galmar's stupid oath to him, after all, and her word meant something. "He doesn't trust me." She muttered darkly to herself.

"No, I don't think that's it," Ralof said uncertainly, placing a friendly hand on her shoulder. "I think he was...well...worried about you, Svala. He seemed tenser than usual, and that's saying something for Ulfric."

Svala snorted at that. Ulfric worried about her? No. Perhaps he was worried about losing the Dragonborn, and what it would mean for his war, but it wasn't as if he cared about the person attached to the title. "Tell him I'm fine, Ralof. He wanted me to go to the Falkreath camp and I'm on my way now, so he can relax." Was she? She hadn't really considered where exactly she had been headed until the words came out of her mouth. Hmm. Maybe she was a deserter. But that didn't mean she would betray Ulfric or the Stormcloaks either.

Ralof shook his head. "Actually, Svala, he wants you to report directly to him now. I'm supposed to escort you. Just like old times, eh?" He was grinning at her once more. She could feel herself begin to smile, as well, reluctantly. Ralof was like a puppy; it was impossible to stay annoyed with him.

She ended up relenting and then they were on their way back to Windhelm.

Svala had always liked Ralof- he was a good part of why she was still alive. Without his help escaping Helgen, divines only knew what would have became of her. Not only had he helped to save her life, but he had brought her back with him to Riverwood, introduced him to his sister and her family, given her lodging and food and supplies for her journey to Whiterun. Kindness was so hard to come by in the world that Svala tried to repay it whenever possible. She supposed holding a blade to Ralof's neck wasn't the best start, but then again she also hadn't realized it was him. At least she hadn't stabbed him.

Ralof was animatedly describing to her his exploits in the Stormcloak army thus far, and was currently in the process of explaining a quest that Galmar had a small team embark on shortly before she enlisted, in some Nordic ruin to find a crown. "We had cleared the damn place of Imperial trash before we got to this crazy door. I thought Galmar's yelling was going to cause the whole place to cave in, but no matter what we did, the damn thing wouldn't open. We were at it for days before he finally admitted it was a loss and made us return to camp."

"Crazy door?" Svala hummed to herself. She remembered a similar door when she was asked to fetch the dragonstone from Bleak Falls Barrow. "Did he have the dragon claw to open it?"

"Dragon claw?" Ralof shook his head rapidly. "No, I would've remembered something like that. There were three holes in the smallest circle on the door though...that was probably the key to open it!"

She smirked to herself. Maybe there was a way to soften Ulfric's rage upon their reunion...maybe a peace offering she could procure for him. Even if she couldn't find the missing claw to open the door, she remembered Mercer had taught her a puzzle door's weakness. "Say Ralof, think we have time for a detour? I don't suppose you remember where this ruin was..."