Calixto's book must've been fake, as enough time had passed and Svala was still very much alive and settling into a (somewhat monotonous) routine in Windhelm.

It was odd for someone like her- she wasn't used to spending too long in any place, Whiterun included. She had a house there, yes, but it was mainly to store things and stock up on supplies before her next journey. Honestly, it was more Lydia's home than it had ever been hers. But the more time she was forced to spend in Windhelm, the more the old, bleak city began to feel...comfortable to her. She wouldn't call it home, however. She only had one home, long ago, and bandits had stolen it from her. Svala knew better: nothing was permanent, nothing safe. Besides, she was too consumed with restless energy to ever truly relax; there was still Alduin and Trearil to deal with.

She spent her mornings breaking her fast in the great hall, seated at Ulfric's massive table. He had been avoiding spending any time alone with her since the last interaction they had had in her chambers. She wondered if he was angry with her for being so bold in her approach, but he seemed perfectly pleasant with her whenever they were in public. He asked how she was finding her time in the city, how she was getting along with the locals. Of course he was still Ulfric, all tied up in his war and aloof as always, but she didn't sense he was upset with her. Still it made no sense why he wouldn't just admit that he wanted her so that they could bed each other and be done with it. The tension was killing her, so she spent as much time out of the palace and wandering the city as often as she could.

She was also waiting for Calixto to make his next move.

The Imperial had been keeping a low profile, Svala noticed. He went to the market and spent the rest of the time in his little museum, nothing of note. Still, she couldn't shake the feeling that he was up to something more nefarious, that he was the one behind the murders, but alas she had no concrete proof to go on. She doubted Ulfric would take her seriously if she told him that her "dragon senses" had led her to the conclusion that Calixto was guilty. It didn't stop her from keeping a close eye on him, however.

Honestly, the more time she spent in Windhlem, the more Svala's opinions on its Jarl seemed to shift. She had given her allegiance to Ulfric believing that he only cared about the Nords (after all, the slogan "Skyrim for the Nords" was pretty decisive) keeping the Dunmer, Argonians, and Khajit secluded in different parts of the city. However, she came to learn that the Dunmer chose to live in the Grey Quarter out of preference, crafting the subsection into a small version of Morrowind. Like the Dunmer, the Argonians chose to live on the dockside since being close to a body of water helped their scaly complexions and also reminded them of the Black Marsh. And the Khjait, who she was told set up a small trading post outside of Windhelm, were never said to have stayed too long in any one place, preferring instead to travel in caravans. Perhaps Ulfric's "prejudice" was really just a carefully crafted political move. Everyone seemed happy and healthy enough, with the exception of Viola Giordino who roamed the streets handing out pamphlets emblazoned with Beware the Butcher!, sensationalizing the murders even more and helping to spread a growing sense of terror and paranoia. Before she even consciously realized it, Svala found that she honestly respected Ulfric and thought perhaps he might even make a fine king, should the Stormcloaks prevail.

Not that she would ever tell him that.

And so, other than a few drunken brawls (Rolff was just too much fun to beat only once) and an odd take on a shill job she did for the Dunner who owned the used goods store (a thief returning something was new), Svala felt incredibly bored. Even Esbern had written her and told her that he and Delphine were on their way to some sort of ancient Blades temple in order to find information about Alduin and that he would send word when he found anything of use. She ended up cooking the books at the East Empire Company (knowing fully well that Delvin used them to run stolen goods from time to time) and committing a sweep on Giordino's home, sending the items to the Guild anonymously. It was the least Svala could do for Brynjolf and the rest, and it was a way to pass the time.

She was walking back to the palace one night from the New Gnisis Corner Club (Svala found they had better mead and trusted Ulfric wouldn't spy on her there) when she saw a small girl standing by the dock gates of the city selling flowers. She was shivering in the cold, looked to be skeletal, and was as dirty as could be. Svala's heart broke for her- had she herself been younger when her parents were killed, that could've been her own fate. "What's for sale?"

"Just some flowers," the girl said sadly. "It's not much, but I hope you like them." She had some lavender and dragon's tongue, snowberries and blue mountain flower.

Svala bought them all. "Where are you parents?"

"They died," the little girl's eyes filled with tears. "So now I sell flowers out here and try to save up for a room in the inn. They wanted to send me to Honorhall, but Aventus Arentino told me how awful it was there, so I hopped out of the carriage. I heard he's even trying to kill the lady that runs it, Grelod the Kind! He's trying to summon the Dark Brotherhood and everything!" Comically, her eyes widened and she clapped a hand over her gaping mouth. "Oh no, I shouldn't have told you that."

Svala laughed gently. "Don't worry, I won't tell. Though your friend shouldn't mess with the Brotherhood- they're a dangerous bunch." She remembered what Delvin had told her from his time with the Dark Brotherhood...nasty business. "What's your name?"

"Sofie," she smiled sadly at Svala. "You're nicer than the other guards. They don't pay much attention to me anymore."

Of course they didn't. They couldn't even follow a damn blood trail, Svala silently fumed to herself. "You must be hungry. Come with me, I'll get you a bath and some food to eat. Besides, it's too dangerous for you to be out here all alone."

"Really?" Sofie's eyes lit up. "Do you...do you have a place I could stay? Maybe for a little while?"

"No," she told the child gently. "But I have a friend who does."

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The next morning, Ulfric found that Svala was suspiciously absent from her place at his table, and found a child there instead.

"Jorleif," he asked quietly, taking his own seat at the head of the table. "Who is that?"

"Lady Svala's new steward," Ulfric's own steward answered happily. (Svala had forbidden anyone from calling her Bone-Breaker while she remained in Windhelm, since she "wasn't breaking any bones any time soon".) The little girl waved brightly at him, stuffing a sweet roll in her mouth. Her long brown hair was in a single braid down her back, just the way Svala wore it. "Her name is Sofie."

Ulfric nodded slowly, unsure why Svala needed a steward anyway. A steward was meant to run a homestead, and since Svala was currently residing in his palace (and it was a child in question), the story didn't seem to fit. Minutes later the child's master came strolling in with a yawn, taking the empty seat next to Sofie. "Lady Svala? Might you join me up here, if you would."

Svala raised an eyebrow at him before slowly nodding, whispering something to Sofie before taking the seat next to him. "Something wrong, my Jarl?"

"I'm just curious," Ulfric began slowly. "Why you have invited a child into my palace."

"She's my steward," Svala answered carefully. She dunked a slice of bread in honey and began eating as though the matter were settled.

Ulfric's own bushy eyebrow rose at that. "I am also curious how she can be a steward since you have no homestead for her to run, and given that she is a child."

Svala stopped chewing. "Well she's rather short to be my sworn shield, don't you think?"

His own thunderous laughter surprised him. Damn this woman, she was honestly too quick for him at times (not that he'd ever tell her that). "Svala, there is adoption for these matters."

Something dark flickered over her face and immediately all sense of levity was gone. "No. I can't adopt her." Ulfric immediately felt as though he had said the wrong thing, although he was unsure of what that was. "But I can't let her keep living on the streets either."

The child was on the streets? Why wasn't she in Honorhall if she were alone in the world? His gaze turned to Sofie once more, who was talking excitedly to Wuunferth. He had never seen his mage so...relaxed. It was an odd scene. "I was not aware she was homeless. I will arrange transport to Honorhall for her at once."

"Like hell you will," Svala hissed at him, suddenly venomous. "You do realize that there is a child within this city who is attempting to summon the damn Dark Brotherhood to kill the woman in charge of the orphanage, correct? I can't imagine that speaks to a happy or safe environment for children."

Ulfric resisted the urge to smile. It seemed that she had taken to Windhlem after all; she was beginning to know more about the daily lives of its citizens than he did. "Perhaps I should contact Riften's Jarl, have her removed from her post."

She scoffed at that, gulping down her wine. "Grelod is in Maven Black Briar's pocket, nothing would change. Honestly, death would be the only way to get her out of the way, but-" Svala stopped talking abruptly, flushing as she met Ulfric's gaze. "Not that I'd kill her. I'm just saying."

"I just didn't realize you were so familiar with Riften." Truthfully, Ulfric didn't know much about Svala. He had been keeping his distance from her, careful not to engage her alone, not since the last time in her chambers...The memory of her foot on his cock had kept him up for days afterward, and he felt it inappropriate to employ a whore while she was staying in the palace, so he was left with only his hand for comfort. It provided little. "Did you grow up there?"

Once again, Ulfric watched her face darken. "No." He resisted the urge to sigh. She truly infuriated him at times. "I have a proposition for you, then."

She peered at him suspiciously over her goblet of wine. "Go on."

"I will allow you to keep Sofie within your chambers if you tell me more about yourself. And no lies, I will know." Surprise illuminated her face, but just as quickly as it came, it vanished, leaving only more suspicion in its wake. "This is no trick, Svala. I am just curious about you."

"Why?" She blurted at him. "Because I'm the Dragonborn? Because I'm your 'friend'? Why?"

"Because you interest me," Ulfric told her simply, resisting the urge to take her hand once more. Touching her would only lead to dangerous territory, and he could not rise from his own table with a raging erection. "And as I've already told you, I'm curious."

For a second, she was quiet, her gaze locked upon him. When she finally spoke, her voice was softer than he had ever heard it. "My mother's name was Helgi. My father was Radvar. They owned a small farm outside of Rorikstead before a group of bandits came and burned it to the ground. They killed my mother in front of my father and I, offered to spare his life if he'd sell me to them as a slave. He accepted, sold me for 100 septims. They killed him anyway."

Ulfric felt sick. "Svala...I'm so sorry."

Svala stood abruptly, her eyes blank and her face cold. "Have a bed and new clothes for Sofie delivered to my rooms, and I'll tell you whatever else you like later. For a price."

He nodded once and then she was gone. He could smell the faint scent of snowberries and lavender in her wake.

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Ulfric had noticed she never spent too long within the palace walls, though he was too preoccupied with waging a war and running Windhelm to find out about Svala's whereabouts. He only hoped she hadn't heard about "The Butcher" and was keeping herself out of trouble. It was an odd feeling for him, to want to be so protective over one of his own soldiers. He couldn't say he minded it, especially the more time he spent watching Svala with Sofie. She was gentle with the child, always sneaking her treats and gifts. It was plain to anyone that Sofie adored the Dragonborn and had began to look up to her as a surrogate mother, but no one was stupid enough to tell that to Svala's face. She was still operating under the guise that Sofie was her "steward".

If anything, the child was becoming Wuunferth's apprentice. While Svala spent her days in the city, Sofie would learn from the court mage. Her knowledge of local flora and their medicinal properties was actually quite advanced for someone of her age, and more than once Wuunferth had told Ulfric that she was on her way to becoming a fine alchemist. He had built an alchemy table within Svala's chambers immediately after that conversation, and while Svala was initially confused, she offered him a genuine smile when she saw Sofie's excitement and told him about her time with the Thieves Guild over that night's supper.

He would've never pegged her for a thief- she was too mouthy. Still, she told him she had spent 8 years in the Guild, training under its current Guildmaster (whose name she wouldn't give him, no matter how hard he pressed) and had even begun stealing small trinkets and books out of his chambers only to return them in the morning at first meal to prove her skills. Ulfric always wondered if she kept a few items for herself, but he never questioned her. He would give her anything she desired, really, anything at all. He was becoming quite enamored with the Dragonborn.

That was a problem.

For one, he knew he would eventually have to send her back out into the field. He hadn't informed Galmar that she had been recovered by Ralof, and knew that soon the old bear would begin to grow suspicious and come sniffing himself. For another, there was the Moot to consider. He would need a noble wife if he had any hope to gain the support needed to secure his place as Skyrim's high king. While he toyed with the fantasy (idea) of courting Svala and marrying her proper, he had reservations on how she would take to a life of politics and galas. She was a warrior, not unlike himself, and needed space to roam like the dragon she was. And truthfully, he did not know if she was even available for marriage- she did not wear an Amulet of Mara, nor a wedding band. She did not speak of any men to him, but then again, it was hard enough to get her to speak about her past at all. Besides, Ulfric was significantly older than her, and doubted she would take genuine interest in him. She toyed with him, yes, flirted with him on occasion, but he supposed that his power was what she (and most women) found most attractive about him. She would want a young, strapping husband who could accompany her out in the wilds of Skyrim, not a stuffy older Jarl sitting on a throne.

Ulfric groaned, unable to sleep. All he could think about was the damn Dragonborn and her stupid auburn hair and mischievous green eyes. He rose from his chambers, leaving his chest bare, and walked to the throne room. He was surprised to see the object of his thoughts seated at the large table of the main hall, carving something. "What are you doing?"

She startled easily, apparently lost within her craft. For a moment, she whirled to face him, pointing the dagger at him before realizing who he was. "You scared me," she said in lieu of an apology before holding up a roughly carved blade made out of bone. "It's for Sofie. It's dragon bone- I'm going to make a grip out of wood and then give it to her so she can start to train with it. She needs to know how to defend herself."

Ulfric smiled taking a seat next to her. "She's perfectly safe here, you know. And Wuunferth is teaching her some defensive magic that she's taken rather quickly to, so I don't think you need to worry about her too much."

"She won't be here forever though," Svala answered moodily, shaping the bone with the blade of her dagger. "And she should know multiple styles of fighting in case she's ever in a position where she can't use her magic."

He hummed in response, touched by her protective streak over the child. For a moment, Ulfric had a vision of her in the training yard with Sofie and their child, a wild youth with blue eyes and auburn hair, teaching them how to fight...No. "You mentioned to me once you were captured by the Thalmor. Do you know why they were looking for you?"

She stiffened and he half expected her to flee. Instead, she fixed a steely gaze upon him and said, "I have no idea. Mercer sold me out and they picked me up out of Riften and shipped me to Cyrodiil for 3 years. They tortured me daily, asking me about dragons, about my family, until finally they got tired of me and sent me back to Helgen where I was supposed to be killed- as you might remember."

Ulfric nodded. "I remember." Had the Thalmor suspected she was the Dragonborn? It seemed they had a way of knowing before Svala herself did...the notion unsettled him greatly. "They are a ruthless bunch, despicable creatures. I have also had the misfortune to suffer their cruelty, as I'm sure you know."

"Did they rape you?" Her eyes grew brighter with tears and her sharp voice became unsteady. "Did they defile you in every way they could think of? Do they still hunt after you? No?" He remained silent. "Then we're not the same."

He felt his blood run cold. After he won the war, he would destroy the Altmer bastards, wipe them from existence, by Talos he swore he would. Wordlessly, Ulfric took her hand and carefully pressed it against his chest, allowing her fingers to trace over the various scars he had there. "This? Was all the work of my time with the Thalmor after the Markarth incident. They wanted to flay me, they told me, so they could hang 'the Great Bear's pelt upon their mantle'. Eventually, I could not withstand their torture any longer, so I betrayed my own people."

"You didn't," she said softly, running her fingertips around his chest in little swirls, tickling the fine hairs on his chest. Had their conversation not been so dark he would've surely been hard by now. "The city had fallen before you broke."

Ulfric froze. "And how would you know that?"

She grinned sheepishly at him. "I may have broken into the Embassy in Solitude and stolen a dossier about you?" Ulfric's stormy expression must've made her nervous because she quickly added, "I haven't shown anyone or told anybody a thing! Honestly, the book is in my chambers. You can have it."

He could feel himself soften. He wasn't angry with her, he truly wasn't. The weight of her words was settling in, both stoking his rage and also giving him a sense of relief that he hadn't allowed himself to feel in years. The guilt, the shame he had carried with him since the Markarth incident was finally lifted from him and it was a dizzying sensation.

And then he remembered that she was touching his chest.

Ulfric flooded with heat, suddenly highly sensitive and aware to each brush of her fingers. He stared at her face, and she seemed to have forgotten her hand was still in place, she was so lost in thought. She seemed so sad, so weary...the weight of her experiences was written so clearly on her face, clearer than any scar she could've worn. "You are the bravest person I've ever known," he blurted out, watching her face soften and her frown disappear. He didn't know what came over him, he just needed her to know. Needed her to see how much she was beginning to mean to him... "Truly. You have survived so much and you...you are just remarkable to me."

Svala's eyes swam with tears once more. "Stop," she told him without any malice and then pressed her lips to his.

Her lips were so soft and perfect against his own, by Mara, it was everything he could do not to devour her. The weight of his want for her startled even him and he couldn't help but bring a large hand to the back of her neck and drag her closer, slipping his tongue inside her mouth and tasting just how sweet she was. When Svala gasped against him and pressed herself closer to him, raking her fingernails across one of his sensitive nipples, he groaned and kissed her more fiercely, biting her bottom lip and drinking her moans that it caused.

And then it was over.

Svala pulled away from him suddenly, eyes wide and lips swollen. He could see the irritation his beard had caused on her delicate skin and it left him with a vague sense of pride. "I'm...I must go," she spluttered, rising in haste. Ulfric was still trying to keep his wits about him, to prevent himself from grabbing her by the waist and pulling her onto his lap and continuing exactly where they had left off, so he remained silent.

He watched her leave the palace with the feeling of her lips still fresh on his own and the taste of her mouth on his tongue.