Svala couldn't have left Windhelm fast enough.

She threw some weapons, her Guild armor, and a few healing potions and poisons that Sofie had given her into a bag, too angry to care. Was Ulfric ashamed of her? She should've known better, she should've been able to see through his poetry to the truth within. He only wanted the Dragonborn, only wanted to secure her loyalty through any means necessary, just like any other man would. But no, give her a strong pair of arms and a dashing smile, and she apparently lost her intelligence. "Mala?"

She whirled around to see Sofie stirring in her tiny bed. She wiped her eyes before realization set in as she saw the packed bag Svala clutched in her fist. "Mala, are we leaving?"

Mala. What a ridiculous title Sofie had given her. The first time she had called her "mama" Svala had nearly vomited in panic. She had forbidden Sofie from ever calling her that again, and instead of being upset (Svala surely thought tears would follow) the girl had scrunched up her face in concentration before suggesting, "What about Mala? It's mama and your name together. And nobody else will know what it means but you and me!" And at that point, Svala knew she was lost, and had agreed.

She felt in a similar state watching poor Sofie beginning to pack herself. "Sofie...you're not coming."

The girl did not stop. "Master Wuunferth gave me some spell tomes and potion recipes so I can help heal you after your battles. Maybe I can help the other soldiers too! I think that would make Papa Ulfric happy."

Papa Ulfric?? "He's not your father," Svala snapped, instantly regretting the tone she had taken with the child. "He's Jarl, Sofie. Jarl Ulfric."

"But he loves you and you love him and if you're my Mala then he's Papa Ulfric. I know he's not my real papa," Sofie explained with an eye roll. Sometimes, Svala wondered if Sofie thought she was stupid. "And you didn't call him Jarl last night."

By the Nine, this girl was going to kill her from shame alone. Svala felt her face flush as red as her hair. Just how much had she heard? Talos, their chambers were a floor below Ulfric's. Had the whole palace heard?? Sofie was right- Svala was stupid. "That's a secret and you can't tell that to anyone else, ok?" Sofie nodded. "And I'm sorry, but you really can't come. It's too dangerous out there for you. You need to stay here and keep practicing your alchemy and your spells with Master Wuunferth so you can show me just how great you've gotten when I come back."

"You're leaving me," Sofie said softly, dropping the small bag she had started to pack and slumping onto her bed. "You're not going to come back." Svala could hear the tell tale wobble in her voice that meant she was on the verge of tears.

"Hey," she knelt so that she was eye level to the girl. Carefully, she removed the amulet of Talos from around her neck and looped it over Sofie's head. "Do you know what this is?" the girl shook her head, sniffling. "This is an amulet of Talos. He was a man, just like Jarl Ulfric, but he was born special, like me. He had dragon's blood in him too, just like I do, and was one of the only people who could kill dragons. I made this amulet from a dragon's bone- one of the bones from the very first dragon I killed in Whiterun. I've worn it ever since and it's kept me safe. I want you to hold onto it for me until I come back." Remembering the finished dagger she had made for the child as well, Svala removed it from its sheath on her thigh and placed it on Sofie's lap. "And this is not toy. It's also made from dragon bone, and it will also keep you safe, but in a different way. I'll teach you how to use it properly when-"

"When you come back," Sofie finished for her, crying silently. With a whimper, she threw her small arms around Svala's neck and hugged her tightly. Svala placed a kiss to her head feeling her heart crack. She fled as quickly as possible, wanting nothing more than to be off on a carriage to Markarth and to shove her sword through the throat of anyone that dare cross her.

Svala was nearly sprinting down the stone bridge out of Windhelm, but as she was passing the stables she heard a cry of her name. "Lady Svala! Er...I mean, Bone-Breaker! Wait!" Ulundil was chasing after her. She paused, resisting the urge to groan. She just wanted to leave, damnit. "I never got a chance to properly thank you for rescuing Arivanya."

Svala wanted to laugh. It was by sheer luck that she hadn't managed to burn the elf alive along with Calixto. Thankfully, the bosmer was still recovering and had yet to tell anyone of what she had seen. "It's nothing. I'm here to serve the sons and daughters of Skyrim."

Ulundil shook his head vigorously. "You don't understand, you're not like the others. Some of these Stormcloaks wouldn't even lift a finger if they knew it was a mer missing. You care about us, all of us." She wanted to shake the man, to scream at him that it shouldn't be that way, that she should be the rule not the exception. But all she could do was nod lamely at him and thank him once more. Still, however, he continued. "I want you to have our finest horse. We just got it from the stables in Riften so its coat is unique. I know you're going back out into the war, and well, I'd feel better if you were riding a good strong war horse. Please, take it, as a token of Arivanya's and my appreciation."

Svala wanted to refuse, but time was dragging on and she was running out of patience. "Fine, I'll take your horse. Now will you consider us even?"

"Only if a day comes where I can save the one you love," Ulundil retorted with a cheeky grin.

"You'll be waiting a long time then," she muttered to herself before collecting the horse (a dapple grey stallion she had yet to name) and riding hard for Markarth.

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

Svala really hated Markarth.

For one, the city was a damn maze. There were so many stairs and different levels and all the stupid buildings looked the same that she was constantly just wandering around aimlessly trying to find her way. For another, the second she entered Markarth, she was witness to a murder. Some innocent woman was stabbed to death directly in front of her while the assassin shouted out something about the Forsworn. She wanted to stay out of it, but some stupid Breton came up to her, dropped a note at her feet, and then said "Oh, I think you dropped this. Some kind of note. Looks important."

"I didn't drop a note," she told him icily, shoving the parchment back at him. "Maybe it's yours."

"My note? No that's yours," he argued with her, trying to hand it back to her. "Must've fallen out of your pocket."

"Listen," Svala growled, taking the man by the collar. "I am currently full up on quests, missions, and other high risk errands that may or may not result in my death. If you have some kind of issue in this damn Dwemmer city, you can find someone who lives here to do your dirty work for you."

The Breton turned as pale as a Nord, nodding his head rapidly. "Of-of course, my mistake. Sorry to bother you."

She ignored him, trying to figure out where exactly Understone Keep was. She didn't want to ask the guards, lest she attract more attention to herself (she was wearing her Guild armor but still, the less her presence was known in Markarth the better it would be) so she spent a while climbing up various steps and ramps until finally spotting the large golden doors flanked by guards on either side. That had to be it. She burst through the entrance, bombarded with the sounds of barking dogs, pickaxes, and the constant hum of steam-driven Dwemmer technology. Well, at least she wouldn't have to worry about being quiet.

Svala had remembered Galmar's instructions about where exactly Raerek's room was located and his warning about a guard patrolling the area. "Try not to kill anyone," he had snapped at her, still simmering with anger over her tryst with Ulfric. "And remember, if you don't find an amulet in his drawer, you plant this one. It's inscribed." It had taken all of her reserve not to roll her eyes at her commander then, because she had done enough shill jobs for Mercer to know how to pull one off correctly without being spoon fed through the process. Still, she had maintained her composure and accepted the task with a salute. However, Galmar's warning was ultimately rendered useless; the guard was fast asleep at his post. She crept by him easily, picking the lock to the steward's chamber in her first try.

Raerek was snoring lightly on his stone bed (third reason she hated Markarth- who in Tamriel could find comfort sleeping on stone??) while she unlocked his beside table. To her surprise and luck, the steward already had an amulet of Talos buried within a false bottom in the drawer, inscribed with his name. She clenched it in her fist before roughly shoving the older Nord awake.

"Recognize this?" She asked him smugly as his bleary eyes focused on her. She had to give him a bit of credit- the old man didn't seem scared, just inconvenienced.

He sighed. "I suppose you want to extort something from me, is that it? Well, what is it you want?"

Svala figured it would be better to try and play nicely...at first. "If you believe in Talos, why don't you join our cause?"

"So," disgust colored Raerek's features. "You're one of Ulfric's spies. I can't deny the man is right about a few things...but I've seen first hand what Ulfric is capable of, given the chance." Svala bristled at that; even though she had her own issues with Ulfric at present, the Thalmor were more to blame for the Markarth Incident than Ulfric was. Still, she let Raerek continue, remaining silent and swallowing down her anger. "Suffice to say, he is no friend to Markarth, and no friend of mine. My first and only loyalties are to my nephew, and this city."

"What if this were made public?"

"The Thalmor would need to make an example of me...I'd be thrown into prison, but our family's honor would be stained for generations." She knew all too well what the Thalmor would do to him if she were to expose him, and honor would be the least of Raerek's worries. "I'm the Jarl's Uncle. He, his father, and I, swore oaths to the Empire to abandon Talos as conditions to return to the city."

"Perhaps we could come to some sort of agreement, then?" She asked him sweetly. Raerek eyed her warily before nodding. "What if I told you about a large shipment of silver and weapons?"

She stifled a grin- jackpot. "Go on. I'm listening."

The steward shook his head. "Oh no, I won't tell you anything more until we have an agreement."

She wanted to point out that she very much had the upper hand, or could simply intimidate the man through force, but settled on asking him, "How much are we talking about?"

"Enough to make a significant difference in the war." Raerek answered tightly.

Svala decided to press her luck. "And...what about something for me, right now?"

"Well I...I suppose I'm not left much choice in the matter, am I?" He was eyeing her with naked hate. It was an expression she had gotten very accustomed to seeing directed at her. "Very well. I trust a hefty purse of septims will suffice?"

She accepted the coin with a smile. Raerek really was an easy mark; put a little pressure on him and he caved so nicely. If only she were still active in the Guild, she could've cleaned up here. "Alright, it's a deal. Where can I find this shipment?"

"They're taking it by wagon to Solitude. If you hurry, you'll catch them before they get far. It'll be a fairly slow moving caravan. The shipment is quite heavy, and guarded by many men. Now," He gave her one last withering glance before returning to his uncomfortable bed. "Let's pretend we never had this discussion."

"Pleasure doing business with you," She quipped, tossing his amulet back to him. She strolled out of Understone Keep whistling, her purse significantly heavier than it had been when she arrived. Svala then collected her horse from the stable and began the long ride back to the Reach camp, eager to shove her success in Galmar's face. However, hours later when she finally arrived, the general was as ill-tempered as ever and her own high spirits were quickly dwindling.

"Good, you managed to follow orders for once," He told her dismissively as she reported to him. "I've already got a scouting party out in the field near the area where that wagon should be. Go meet them and bring back the goods." At no point did he actually look at her. She had had enough.

"I am no whore," Svala had no idea she was going to speak until the words had already tumbled out of her mouth. "I am both Bone-Breaker and the Dragonborn. You will treat me with the respect I deserve."

It seemed as though Galmar couldn't settle on surprise or rage when he addressed her next. "I am your superior, whelp, and I owe you nothing. And if you don't think yourself a whore, I would suggest keeping your legs closed and not behaving like a whore does." He glowered at her for a moment before continuing his speech, "You don't realize the damage you've done, do you? You put Ulfric at risk. He needs a proper wife for the Moot, damnit, someone who can give him heirs and a stable life. And that will never happen if he's too distracted with you."

"Ulfric is a grown man," she replied through clenched teeth, resisting the urge to shout Galmar off the nearest cliff. "And he's going to be king. I'm sure that gives him the authority to fuck who he wants." The comment about a proper wife had stung her more than she wanted to admit, but she would be damned if she would let it show. "And in case you've forgotten, he's leading a war against the Empire. He's already at risk."

Galmar laughed bitterly at her. "You know exactly what I mean, wench. He genuinely cares for you, even if you're too blind to see it. And I would wager that you don't feel an ounce for him of what he does for you. Not only have I sworn my service and life to the man, but I also count him among my kin and I won't let you trifle with his emotions during this little...power play of yours."

That did it. "Fus!" She shouted and the blast knocked Galmar off his feet and into the hide of tent. The material came crashing down around him, and he floundered around on the ground as he tried to free himself, swearing at her all the while. Svala ignored him, grabbing her horse and riding hard down the road, ignoring the stunned looks and whispers of the other Stormcloaks.

At least no one would be able to see her cry as she rode.